Username: Mathcat (Kyra)
Occupation: Wanderer
PetsTraveling Companions:
Claude Mister Quackers (The picture is several decades out of date. She hasn't been a teenager in, well, quite a few years.)
Kyra pulled her cloak more tightly around herself, shivering. Normally, she didn't really notice the cold, to the occasional dismay and bemusement of her infrequent human traveling companions, but this year was different. She couldn't remember a winter quite this cold in, well, years. Longer, perhaps. Certainly not in the decades that she'd been wandering Eldemore, if her increasingly unreliable memories were to be trusted. This winter also seemed to have lasted an eternity, not that her sense of time was all that accurate anymore. She could have been on the road for days, weeks, or even months since the last town.
Normally, Kyra wouldn't have considered taking refuge in the mansion she now saw before her. Places like that normally didn't tend to look too kindly on people as travel-worn and, well, slightly disreputable-looking as she was these days. Even now, she was perfectly willing to put up with the cold a little longer, thundersnow or no thundersnow, and seek shelter elsewhere, but Claude had other ideas. The liger was nudging at the backs of her legs, knowing from long experience where to push and how hard to get Kyra to move forwards. Claude was normally reliable - frequently more so than Kyra's few human traveling companions, in fact - and she'd never had reason to question his judgement before now. Kyra looked down at him and sighed. "First time for everything, you know." She thought Claude might have rolled his eyes at that.
Kyra then turned her head to glance at Mister Quackers, who was still riding on her shoulder despite the weather, though he'd burrowed under her cloak. For all that he looked like someone's escaped bath toy, his judgement was usually as sound as Claude's was. "Claude says go in. I say go on. You?"
Mister Quackers' quiet "Queh" didn't really tell her anything, but his bill was pointed toward the mansion. Kyra sighed. Two to one, then.
The mansion looked like the sort of place that ought to harbor a few ghosts. If she had been feeling more herself, Kyra might have considered trading stories with whoever owned it. A good ghost story or two was usually worth a meal at one of the more welcoming inns.
The individual who opened the door did nothing to alleviate Kyra's concerns. Tell ghost stories? He looked like he
was the ghost story. Well, not that Kyra was one to talk. Between her black cloak, black hair, and pale skin, made paler by the cold, she looked rather uncanny herself. Even under more favorable circumstances, she looked like the fairy godmother that wouldn't be invited to the christening. Kyra had played the role of mysterious elder before, when circumstances called for it, and even having Mr. Quackers clinging to her shoulder hadn't spoiled the effect.
The man was saying something. Kyra gave herself a mental shake and tried to focus. Something about how the others were all waiting for her. Well,
that wasn't at all ominous. Still, even if Kyra had wanted to turn back to face the cold again, Claude was still pushing her inward. Best to follow along and pretend she was in control of the situation.
Kyra hadn't really expected much in the way of hospitality. A chance to warm up, perhaps, and maybe a mug of indifferent tea or a plate of whatever could be spared. She apparently wasn't even going to get the chance to recover from the cold for a few minutes, as the man led her through the manor without even slowing down. As Kyra had to save her breath for walking, there was no chance to even ask the man what was going on, or even to get much of a chance to look around.
The man did finally stop in front of a library, but only for long enough to give Kyra a chance to catch up. Then, he was gone again, leaving Kyra standing at the entrance and facing a mixed group of humans, creatures (including, unless the cold had her seeing things, a slepnir), and, Seraphina preserve her, an Ancient. The strange creature could be nothing else. Her few brief encounters with Ancients had taught her that they were entities best left alone, and this one wasn’t even bothering to be human-shaped. Kyra would have fled, even knowing that she didn't have a chance of finding her way back outside without help, except that Claude had positioned himself behind her and was, yet again, pushing her forward. With considerable effort, she steered herself away from the Ancient and toward one of the humans.
(Apologies for the long post. I usually don't get quite this long-winded, but I wanted to get Kyra to where the others were in one go.)