#anywhere

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Dagmar tromps along the path, chewing on a purloined roll from the lodge kitchen.

Stories often begin with grand proclamations, such as "It was a dark and stormy night" or "Now is the winter of discontent made glorious summer...." "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." and then sometimes, a tale begins a bit smaller, a bit more personal. The beginning is more of a thread in the tapestry than a tapestry. "Marley was Dead to begin with" for example, or in this case... "Dag is back in the woods. Unsupervised"

Dagmar takes not just comfort in her food. this stuff is freaking delicious. Kerri the Hearth is a fantastic cook

She appreciates it, and it is not long before it is devoured. Certainly, it's eaten before she considers herself deep enough in the trees to feel "alone."

Had it not been for the trolls at Rivervale, this area would have been a subdued surburban spot. Instead, the wild is allowed to hold out.

And the trees , under dreaming's mark, seem to have character, even personality.

She looks back over her shoulder - nope, alone - and she takes a deep breath. "Hello!" A shout!

And her voice carries, and when it gets over one hill, her own voice echoes! "Hello!" "hello..." 'hello."

For a city girl, this is... kind of magical all in itself

She grins to herself, baring her wolfish teeth.

Back to tromping, enjoying just being out and about in the spring sunshine.

Then she hears a voice singing, lovely, adult she thinks

She stops... listening for a moment. Dagmar draws her halberd before creeping closer. She's not sluagh, but she makes an effort to move quietly.

"There's a ship lies rigged and ready in the harbor
Tomorrow for old England she sails
Far away from your land of endless sunshine
To my land full of rainy skies and gales
And I shall be aboard that ship tomorrow
Though my heart is full of tears at this farewell"

"For you are beautiful
And I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful
And I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell"

A woman's voice all right, grown, strong, trained well.

She gets as close as she dares, golden eyes looking for the woman through the brush.

"I've heard there's a wicked war a-blazing
And the taste of war I know so very well
Even now I see the foreign flag a-raising
Their guns on fire as we sail into hell
I have no fear of death, it brings no sorrow
But how bitter will be this last farewell" Strumming , sounds kind of like a guitar?

She sees the woman, near her twenties, older than Siv, younger than Vali.

"For you are beautiful
And I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful
And I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell"

Quiet - the halberd in hand, but not readied.

"Though death and darkness gather all about me
And my ship be torn apart upon the sea
I shall smell again the fragrance of these islands
In the heaving waves that brought me once to thee
And should I return safe home again to England
I shall watch the English mist roll through the dale"

"For you are beautiful" the tempo slows
"And I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful
And I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell"

The music ends and the woman smiles "Not bad,Tove, not bad at all"

She backs off, halberd shifting to both hands.

At that noise, she turns "Colton? Geez" She lowers her hand to a throwing axe at her belt, then stops, "OK. You scared the life out of me"

She freezes, eyes wide.

"Pardon there I'm Tove" the hand that had reached for the axe extends to shake intead "Don't recall you, I'm new."

"Dagmar." She eyes the offered hand, both of hers still on the halberd. "They said there were lots of new trolls here. From the Dreaming right?"

"Right you are, I and my father have moved into the area," She eyes the hands on the halberd, "If you're taking me prisoner I'd like to a chance to get snacks first?"

She tightens her grip, jaw firming from uncertain to bellicose.

"I'm not."

"Good, and here now, have I offended all so much as that? " Her accent is hard to place, kind of nordic..kind of.

"No." Dagmar shifts her weight uneasily - while she doesn't back down, there's no solidity in her defensive stance.

"Well, if I have, I'm sorry. I'm still new to Concordia and on Thyle, I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder." She admits, then smiles, "I'm happier here. Cold as it is at times.' A look around "Just look at these woods, every tree a memory"

"What's Concordia?"

"Or Thyle?"

"Con..Concordia is..well, there's a set of Kingdoms , Kingdom of Apples is the one we're in, Kingdom of Willows is the South East area... so I'm told, to the north in Canada I think it's called the Kingdom of Frozen Ice and.. those are all I know but there are at least two more. Anyway, those kingdoms are all bound under the same high king, and the whole land is called Concordia. I guess to mortals Concordia would just be North America ?

'

"Thyle is an island in the dreaming where sidhe do not rule, trolls do. And it was a worthy effort that went sour fast."

A narrow look, processing.

"This is New Jersey."

"So you know."

"The Duchy of Gardens" She smiles

"But also New Jersey. It's like us, part mortal, part magic."

She nods, chewing on her lower lip. The halberd drops a hair. "Yeah."

"It tends to follow state lines I'm told, but you'd probably know the state lines better than I" She admits, "i'm studying hard to keep up. But there are exceptions. Some states are split, some are merged..last seems a bit of a cheat to me."

"Well, I mean, nobody would think Rhode Island would be a whole duchy. It's the size of a county."

"And I think there's only like five people in all of Vermont."