#baronyofthesilverwolf

Pooka, Gwen has been warned - or gently advised - should be taken with a grain of salt. Some are fine jesters, others play pranks, but they are tend somewhat towards the silly or the absurd. But stopping by her room to pick up her forgotten riding boots and finding what appears to be a giant net being strung from the ceiling beams? What trickery is this? The doe-eyed pooka with long chocolatey velvet rabbit ears seems just as surprised to see Gwen, as Gwen is to see her.

"Ah, Bluebell? I'm gonna walk right through that if you're hoping to capture me" A look "At least I think I might."

Her nose twitches, and slowly she relaxes from where she had frozen in place like started prey. "I'll throw a net into the night and catch a star to guide me, the sweetest dreams of cakes and creams, and a star to rock beside me?"

Giving the net a shake and it falls to hang slack. The ropes actually look pretty sturdy - strong vinyl cord, but wrapped with soft fabric ribbons that have been wound pain-stakingly through each section, around each strand, and leaving the holes open - it almost looks like... ah! One thinks of a warm summer breeze, relaxing strung between two trees... a glass of lemonade and a book perhaps? It's a hammock!

Has her Bed gone missing? She looks about, or does she, she wonder, have room mate?

Her bed is still there - oh, it must have been work to shove to to one side.

"A story is told of a princess, meek and sweet and gentle, graced by a fairy so that when she spoke, roses and precious gems would fall from her lips." Bluebell steps back from the hammock, giving it a final shake to fall into place. "What a gift, to talk in one's sleep and wake up rolling upon thorns and rocks!"

Indeed, it DOES looks like it may support her weight - maybe with a little more buttressing at the top... and allow any stray bits of rock from her skin to fall through the holes rather than accumulating in bed.

"Oh I worry I'll break it" she says, but does move over to look at it running her fingers over it. "For a moment I thought you were my new roomie and not sure that's fair to you. For all I know, I might snore"

A giggle hidden behind her hand, and she reaches out to softly trail a finger along the edge of the hammock - at closer look, the hammock is woven into a design reminiscent of a dream catcher. "Fine cords of mithril wrought, and yet..." Looking over Gwen. "If worries fill your teacup, a thane may look upon the net, and grant it with strength of boughs of oak, bending yet unyielding."

"It's a dream catcher, awww you guys, appropriating my culture with love" The Native American girl grins "Kidding. This is great." She's impressed "This is really good work"

She curtsies before Gwen. "Some find fancies lead to witching, spells cast with cackles and fingers twitching, I find mine a simpler kind, with yarn and a touch of stitching." It looks like the sticks holding the pooka's hair in place into a bun are actually... crochet needles!

She covers her mouth in surprise and dlight, then says "You're great, Bluebell. Ah.. spells? That gets me thinkking, when do I learn the magic and the zapping and..stuff?"

A finger lightly taps on her chin, thoughtfully. "What path do dreams take when you close your eyes? Are you Doctor Doolittle, or a Lorax speaking to trees? A Fantastic hero who holds flame in your palm, or lightning arcs from your spear? Does fate whisper in your ears about which steps lead to fortune and which fall short of a cliff? Shall you walk through a crowd unheard and unseen?" A small smile. "A stream flows within you, and you may try to direct it's course - that does work, often and true - but if not, it will find a way to spring free, and the results may surprise you."

"Wait, all that can be done? " Once more, she's staggered by the breadth of it all "WOW. I .. uhm" She asks "What does the hold need you think? I mean... I want to help"

"Need? What need may we have? One can clearly see that all ones needs are provided. No one hungers or thirsts, or lacks for anything money can buy. Look around you, 'tis a perfect paradise." A smile, soft and forlorn. "You bring life, and perhaps that shall be enough?"

"It does sometimes seem sad here. Linnae said there are things I'm not supposed to ask the Baron about, but he seems really sad. You know? And the flower names, there's a story there too"

"Is there? Oh, I do so like stories. When you find it, pray, you can share. Do you hear? The kettle sings, I am off to my duties...." Gwen doesn't seem to hear any call... Bluebell slips towards the door, pausing there, and a long ear twitches. "And do not worry about the snoring - I hear not a thing."

A light blush at the idea maybe she does snore, but with a straight face "Silly Rabbit, You trick and you kid" as she semi quotes a commercial

A wink, and she vanishes out the door - off to do whatever duties Pooka do. Which so far seems to be light maid work, serving and general helping out around the hold. And, apparently, crocheting hammocks.

She looks at the hammock "It could be a trick" she says , then ponders "But just because they like to prank doesn't mean everything is. Oh well, worse thing is I'll go throguh the floor boards when it snaps" Cautiously, she tries it out

Creak... creak... but... it holds! And when her weight settles in, something pops! above, and flower petals drift down around her! Hopefully she has no allergies, as the fragrant petals drift and settle on her hair and fall through the hammock to the floor - pretty... Alas, until you have to clean them up!

and.. WIDE eyes, blocking then realizing WHAT they are, and then.. well? Laughter

Somewhere, deep within the hold, a banked and glowing balefire flickers a touch brighter at the sound.

_____________

Elsewhere, Head Steward Marigold is not sitting idly by - she works at punching, folding, and man-handling dough, even as she speaks to Thane Danica.

"Oh, I understand that she's not wanting to return home, but for her sake as well as our own, we should look into her situation."

Danica, holding a teacup that looks rather minuscule in her hands, nods. "I'll check for missing persons or runaway reports, or any other history we should be aware of from the mortal end of things. Juvenile detention records, or any history of domestic abuse or anything from the Locklear family. If it's on file, I should be able to find it. She'll need to go to school, and we'll either need to reasonably move her records over, or create a believable record of her as a Carthage resident. Online classes should make things a bit easier."

Smoothing the ball of dough and setting it in a bowl to rise, "Thank you, Dani. I think she's had a rough go of things, so let's do our best to provide a smooth road for the future. She's ours for at least a year and a day."

The Troll Thane nods, and on her next visit to the station, Sergeant Marshall checks records to see what there is to be found on Miss Gwen Locklear, or her family.

Contact with Sir Ivory may short cut them to what they need to know. What a legal mess. Two people meet at a Native American gather , different degrees of blood, different tribes.They hit it off. Marry. And she moves with him to another part of the country. Relationship becomes abusive while Gwen is still a small child. Mother flees, sure that the reservation authorities won't side with her, take the girl with her. Hides for a year or two succesfully but appears too ashamed to head back to her own folks. Angry Ex hunts them down. Kills mtoher. Father goes to jail. Daughter escapes to the streets as a young teen

Complicating matters, one cannot just 'adopt' or even foster a Native American easily. Laws meant to keep tribes from being robbed of their young until they cease to exist are usually good things, but in this case it makes it harder to handle

Bit of research does indicate that , on her mother's side, Gwen might be a Mohawk, the people, not the hairstyle