#baronyofthesilverwolf

"I guess that makes sense....." reluctantly.

"I know you can't judge by kiths, but as a rule we trolls aren't really good at mean girl games if that's what your'e worried about"

A munch of her cookie

Slurp. "Really? Never met a troll before, wouldn't know."

"Never? Wow. Well, that's humbling. I thought we were pretty common. Maybe it's just up here. Then again, I don't know many nockers."

Willy levels Gwen with a look that reads: DUMBASS

"What?" At the look

"I'm a friggin' blacksmith, what do YOU think?" mutters "Never met a troll......" (it read better in my head so.....editing)

Brow. "Did you know everything about changeling demographics when you were a fledge?"

"Nope, but I could add."

"Sorry, my telepathy allowing me to read into your mind and see all the trolls you ever met so I could start counting seems to be on the fritz" Dryly "Look, one moment you're suspicious because I'm doing you a solid, now you're giving me grief because I missed your sarcasm so you treat me like I'm stupid? Cut me some slack."

A hoarse bark of laughter "You met a nocker yet, Eggshell?"

"One, older guy... but obviously one wasn't enough." The teenager sets her cup down "Okay. So tell me about nockers."

Slurp. "Best kith; everything'd fall apart without us. Dreams of crafting, creation, invention."

"So I'm guessing as a generalization your kith aren't big on emotional intelligence or social interaction? "

"Not saying trolls are charmers either" She says in case the nocker gets offended

"HEY, we're PLENTY intelligent! Smarter 'in other kiths! With a few individual exceptions." she has to grudgingly admit.

"And we can be social, if the society don't suck." Slurp.

"Mostly, it sucks. Who'd want to waste time on that shit when you could be creating?"

Oh, they're like Tech Support people without the customer service training She realizes

The sound of soft conversation in the hallway, Marigold with a lower, male voice.

It explains a lot and she says "Beauty is life and it must be nice to make something beautiful" A nod

"It's a living." modestly, and she takes a slurp of coffee.

In walks the lord of the Manor. The Ailil Baron is beautiful, as all sidhe, tall and slender, fair of skin and with dark, flowing locks tied back from his face, though wisps do pull free and dance around cheekbones sculpted of pure marble. Piercing blue eyes check the room, and his gaze softens a touch on Gwen, before giving Willy a critical looking over. His voile is hunting leathers, soft and supple black suedes with silver accents, finely made but showing use.

"Gwen, good morning. I understand we have a guest?" No Bluebell here to (mis) introduce the visitor or Briar to scream out her name, so it must fall to the fledge!

The guest drops her mug on the table and stands up, wiping her hand on her denim overalls.

Gwen bows "Yes, this is Willy"

Willy bows as well.

"Willy, this is the Baron Aiden, Lord of Silverwolf"

"Lord." she mumbles before straightening.

Lord Aiden is less than pristine at the moment - a scatter of fine animal hairs mar his clothing, and a smear of some sort of whitish slime along one arm that he seems not to have noticed - the sign of a friendly horse lipping a sleeve, if one might recognize. "Willy, mmm?" He nods to her.

He nods in acknowledgement to Gwen as she introduces him, pleased that she remembered. She learns well! "You are welcome here if you come in peace and fair intentions and seek safe haven."

"Willy also is a farrier, and does other crafts in some metals and leathers" She looks to Willy "She can explain in full her talents better than I"

"Er, yeah. Yes, Lord. That... that's what I'm here for."

He contemplates this for a moment, and takes a seat. Gesturing for her to be seated as well, if she doesn't move to do so.

"It is true that we could use a talented farrier. However, we are somewhat far from the mainstream of society. If you seek a hold that is on the pulse of balls and courtly gatherings, you may be dismayed. We are more centered here around our own crafts and specialties, than hosting fetes and entertainment for it's own sake."

Gwen impersonaes Marigold by starting to prepare a drink for the Baron. She wears gloves for the ask. It doesn't always happen, but sometimes bits of rock like substance flecks. And who needs that?

Willy sits. Aiden might note that she does not appear to be looking at him directly, but rather at an eartip or his chin.

A nod of approval as Gwen makes his tea just how he likes it - a bit of cream and sugar, brewed strong. She'll notice the small lift of a corner of his mouth - small gestures unseen by those who do not know him as well, but he is pleased.

He sips the tea and waits for her to respond.

"Nah, no, not looking for that bull.... er, not looking for a busy court, Lord. Just somewhere to work."

"Can you show me some examples of your work?" Eyeing that large pack. "Did you travel far?"

Gwen does what trolls do being near if she is needed, but quiet. Observing without intruding. The thanes might be proud of her.

"Yes, Lord, I guess so. From Duchy of Blue Grasses, but not in a straight line, like. I got samples but ... I mean, I do -work- not fancy frilly stuff. What I make, you can -use.-"

"Ah." He sounds interested. "There are many good breeders of both hounds and steeds there." He nods, familiarity with the area. "I've worked with a few. Did you have a prior patron that could vouch for your skill? Or does your work speak for itself?"

"Speaks for itself, Lord." her chin juts a little, proudly and defiant.

He nods. "The Duke of Blue Grass is a fine horseman and breeder. I've generally done business with him via proxy, though. A fine horseman, even if he had to be Gwydion." A soft sigh, the dreaming is not as kind to all sidhe.

"Show me your work, then." He sets his cup aside and leans forward, interested.

Willy stands and goes to her pack, wrestling to loosen the ties and then going through it.

Seems her laundry was on top... some toiletries.... well-used sneakers.... then, a sizable canvas roll of bulk and weight emerges.

She cradles this in her arms and turns, looking for somewhere.... ah, a table. She goes and unties it, unrolling it carefully.

The pack stands forlornly, half-deflated, in the rubble of day-to-day uses.

He moves over to the table and gestures for Gwen to join as well.

Gwen does join