#anywhere

“Uh, hi.” He says, then adds, realizing it sounded rather dumb, “Thistle. Er. Can you, um. That is… Maybe you can help me out with a predicament?”

In the pause for her to answer, she hears him say, “Come on now, stop that!” The voice is a bit muted, indicating he is speaking away from the phone for that last.

"Predicament? The'furk you get yourself into? I mean, yeah, of course, I'm gonna help but can I get the down low first?"

“Well, um. Maybe you… better come see for yourself. I’m over by the trod. Um, don’t tell anyone, okay?”

"I... sure? Let me get this mud off my hands. Be there soon."

"Citrine, can you zip ahead and check on Art? You know he usually has Skittles." The nocker wipes her clay-cakeked hands on her apron - emergencies are emergencies, but one doesn't just leave a project half-dash.

Citrine chimes in acquiescence and zips ahead!

Thistle is soon on her way as well - sans apron, but otherwise still in her Clay Clothes.

Citrine does NOT, after all, get distracted along the way.

Though by the time Thistle approaches the wooded trod, she has attracted two more Neverlanders, an evergreen and a bright red. She hears a voice, Art’s speaking quietly from within a small copse, just out of view. And… a whicker?

"Yeah, I hear him too."

“Thistle?” Hearing her voice, Art steps out. His voile is in disarray, hair mussed, and the white of his shirt is stained red with blood. Of course, the sidhe manages to make this look good.

“That was fast!” Art gives her a grateful smile.

"My studio ain't that far... (*^^%^&!! You're bleeding? The fuck?"

“I did not know if you were at home.” He says, his voice calm and steady.

“Wha- oh!” He looks at his shirt, and touches it, as though surprised. Unbuttoning, he checks his chest (alas, not broad and thewed, though his shoulders HAVE developed a bit…)

No sign of any wounds! Pristine skin, pale as fine porcelain and practically glittering like a Twilight vampire.

“Sorry- you see, I was coming back from a swordplay lesson at EarthRunes, and… I don’t quite recall, but I think I ran into trouble on the trod…”

"Trods have a way of that..."

At this, another creature emerges from the copse. Citrine gives a chime of surprise! The size of a small horse, or perhaps a large pony, but finer boned and delicate looking, though with a sense of inter strength. A mane the color of spun moonlight on top of a coat of purest snow, hooves cloven, a fine goatee of silken strands… one barely needs to see the spiral horn to know what this creature is. A touch of deep red stains the tip of the horn, though there is no sense of malice.

"Hoooo-leeee-wah." She gapes.

The unicorn moves over and nuzzles at Art in a familiar and fond manner.

He blushes. “When I exited the trod, My sword was stained with black blood- I don’t know what I fought?” Thistle now sees traces of dark smears on some of Art’s clothes as well.

“I cleaned the blade- but Um, see- he, this guy, seems to have followed me home.”

"Maybe you protected it?"

“Maybe?” He takes a step away, and makes a ‘shooing’ motion in the direction of the trod. “Go on then, go home.”

The unicorn steps forward again and gazes at Art with adoring eyes the color of twilight seas.

“Thistle, you’re good with Chimera. Can you help, um.. encourage him?” Art’s cheeks are pink.

"I'm not sure if it's so much 'good' with chimera, Art..."

"Maybe he owes you? He's pretty."

"We could probably find a place for him to stay the night. Good sleep, some food, and then he'd be up to go on his way?"

“I wasn’t sure if I should take him to the hold. I worried, um… well. The Baron IS in the height of his unseelie time. He might decide that unicorn bloodlines might improve his lines, or that it’s a good time for a hunt. With all respect to our Lord.” He adds on quickly, “It might be best if the little guy moves on.”

"You can't hunt a Unicorn!"

"That's... like, that has to be illegal, right?"

“It’s actually quite the sport in some areas. Unicorns being, of course, mighty beasts of legend, they are reported to make fine quarry- hey!” A laugh as the delicate stallion butts him lightly - with the side of his forehead, not the horn. Which Citrine is trying to perch on. A shake of his head, and the Unicorn sends the Never flying (she laughs!).

"Well, it should be illegal."

"We could try heading back to the trod?"

There are footsteps, heavy, familiar

Art is blushing quite a bit now, noticeably. “Yes, let’s try that…” But now the footsteps are between them and the trod

"Art? C'mon, I know how it is to get a chimerical tagalong. Look at that little yeller idjit as example A. It happens."

Dame Gladiola comes into view

She seems a bit distracted.

And for once, dogless

A high pitched whinny, and the unicorn prances a step back.

"Shhh, hey." Thistle places a reassuring hand on the colt.

The unicorn calms under Thistle’s touch.

Gwen stops, then blinks and gapes "Oh..wow"

A warning snort, and his head lowers a touch towards the Troll. Not threatening, but defensive, it seems.

"Rocky's okay."

"Peace, One horn," Gwen offers an open palm to show she is not holding a weapon, "I would no more hurt you than I would shatter a sunrise"

Indeed, she has A wistful admiration

“Gwen! That is, Dame Gladiola!” Art bows a touch in greeting, though clearly distracted as he tries to coax the unicorn back.

The Unicorn shakes his head and sends Citrine flying from her perch! Though, the Never finds this a glorious game.

The unicorn’s ears have flattened back and delicate lips lift showing teeth.

"Ninny, leave the glamour rhino alone."

Chime! Indignant, as Citrine flits back to sit on the unicorn’s back, a safer perch perhaps.

"Should I... leave?" Unsure if the unicorn is baring teeth at her as well as Citrine?

“No, it’s just… it’s not you, per se.” Art says, now his ears pink-red as well in embarrassment. “but Unicorns, you see… are… erm… they are partial to, uh. Maidens…” Oh, he is red.

"Oh, fer..."