#baronyofthesilverwolf

Dubious "Seems okay the way it is"

Then in fairneess "But you think your step idea would be useful for the less long legged?"

"Exactly! Like.... Marigold."

THat gets her "You could make this easier on mom's knees?"

"Totally!"

Well, that certainly turns a no into a maybe "Well... you should work on your own car first, but... I think I'd like it being easier on mom"

"Exactly. I mean, surely you'd want to drive her around."

A look at Thistle. "It's not exactly your niche, but you did a pretty good job with Gertrude" She admits "But it would help mom. AND I keep telling you you're better than you think you are so maybe I should so you I trust you. Okay. But not right away? I want to drive it around before it goes into upgrades and however long that takes?"

"I'll make a plan and get stuff, and that takes time..."

"And really, tinkering around is like breathing."

The door opens at precisely the time of their meeting. It's not clear who pushed or pulled it, as Mister Elias Aberdeen is seated behind his desk, on the far side of the office. A thin, toothless smile, and he gestures for them to come in.

"Mister Aberdeen, thank you for seeing us." Dame Gladiola says "I am not sure if you recall our Fledge Thistle? THistle, this is Mr. elias Aberdeen, town historian, and respected citizen"

Thistle raises a hand. "Hey. We brought tea."

"Oh yes, my mother sends her regards" and she nods to the gift

"Do come in, and be welcome in my humble office." A raised brow at the brightly colored and high-pitched nevers circling Thistle. "I did not realize you would be bringing an.. ah. Entourage?" He considers, "Though, it is not entirely unexpected. I have, of course, heard of your attractive nature to the lesser dreams."

He rises to greet them, suit hanging on him like a scarecrow, and accepts the gift politely in nearly skeletal fingers.

"They're not an entourage. They're pretty useless. But pretty!"

"Oh, an entourage is not always useful. But they do add to your consequence, I suppose, indeed. Sit, I will have refreshments brought." He taps a button on his desk, and there is a static crackle of an old intercom, and a faint buzzing. He whispers something, and though they cannot make it out, there is a return hiss of sound, and he inclines his head, sitting back.

"I understand you wished to consult with me on a manner of some inquiry?"

Thistle finds that she needs to focus to hear him well. If it were a show, she might have turned on subtitles.

Much like kenning, close listening also involves a squinty-face.

"Yes, Sir" SHe says "Art and THistle uncovered a most unusual creature"

"And sluagh are supposed to be good for knowing all kinds of things. Art's going to go find the Librarian at this other freehold, but we have a sluagh right here, that being you."

"Living creatures are seldom my area of expertise, but I have been around for... a fair while, and seen many things. I would be interested in your find, yes."

"Please, I am no sir, merely a common working man." An inclined nod to the Dame.

"My apologies, Mr Aberdeen. Habit of school and teachers"

"Well, he's chimerical?"

"I understand that a school was the location of your find. A nasty sort, that Blaine." He shakes his head.

"And maybe not a he, I've just been using 'he' because it's easier." She plucks Fornax from her pocket.

A brief grimace. "Yeah. And Fornax's egg was in his room, so I'm pretty sure all the cold there might have hurt him before he could hatch."

Elias leans forward, an interested spark in his sunken eyes. Carefully sliding aside some paperwork and a few notebooks, he clears a spot on his desk. "If you would place him that I may take a closer look?" Exchanging his slim spectacles for a larger monocle with a magnifier.

"It's colder than a witch's tit in Buffalo in that man's mausoleum. The Nevers won't even enter the school."

A chorus of chimes in agreement!

Thistle gently sets Fornax down.

GLadiola looks thoughtful as Blaine is spoken of . She has failed to oust him. yet. it feels on her

Fornax sits, and then tips over gently. His color is a bit greyish, like clay that has been drying out, and his eyes half-lid over as he sprawls onto the desk.

"Most fascinating." Murmurs the elder as he carefully looks over the creature.

"Why, it's splendidly malformed. Shall it die soon? I could find a jar! It would look so lovely in a jar." Whispers a voice from behind Thistle's pointed right ear! Citrine chimes in surprise, startled, and zips to the other side of Gwen!

Her hands are ugly things - nocker hands tend to be - with gnarled, knobby fingers and grease and paint stuck to her cuticles. Despite this, only a piskie or sluagh might rival their facility. When the uneven little dragon tips, she rights him with delicate care.

"We would prefer it get healthy, alive, Lizbet" she says surprisingly unsurprised

"He ain't gonna die! I'm feeding it."

A slender youth who would make Wednesday Addams look plump and cheerful, accompanied by an antique serving cart with cups and steaming hot water.

"I believe you may remember my niece, Dame Gladiola? Miss Thistle, please meet Miss Lizbet." Elias nods towards the girl. "Who is quite ahead of herself, and daresay, bordering on rude."

The Sluagh wildling, on the cusp of her next step towards proper teenagerhood, has the decency to look a touch embarrassed.

Gwen smiles at lizbet "I hope you're doing well"

"Tell me about his hatching, and the care you have been providing." He inquires, as he gives the tiny beast a careful going over. "He does seem rather sickly. Pray, I do not cast aspersions on your care, but to understand what attempts have been made." He adds smoothly before Thistle has a chance to bristle.

Lizbet gives a curtsy and a wan smile. "I have been taking gift baskets to those afflicted with the dread virus. Alas, none have yet perished, but it is most interesting to watch the stages of their infliction. Perhaps the winter will bring a stronger strain for me to observe."

"Just dont catch it yourself, Lizbet. Cronehood for you one day" Geniune concern

"Well, he hatched in my kiln. Art gave him some glamour. I've been feeding him milk with butter, and these little meatballs.. and.. uh.. skittles..."

"Muppet watches him when I'm at school. I figured the freehold would be best, since it's warm there?"

"Muppet's a dog."

"Not a mutt, even though he looks like one."

"A Glen of Imaal, fasinating breed" Gwen says

"Right - not a mutt."

"To die in the cusp of my youth would be quite pleasant, I think. It would be a tragedy far beyond that of expiration after a life fully lived." Lizbet looks yearnful for a moment. "Alas, I am plagued by a quite robust constitution." She sighs sadly. "Not the faintest hint of choler nor tuberculosis."