#rivervale_lodge

"You aren't a bad guy, I don't think. You seem okay."

He swallows, the food going down in a lump, and he snickers a little. "I grabbed a hotdog off the rotisserie at 7-11 once. Almost burned myself, but it was worth it to see the vallygirl spill her frappuchino." A grin up at her. "You don't seem half-bad either. And if you end up seelie, I won't suddenly expect you to white-knight around, prance and pose and save princesses. And if you end up unseelie I won't be looking for you under bridges. Although it IS nice and damp down there sometimes. Deal?" Offering a slender hand.

A grin cracks her stony features, revealing teeth that are bright and surprisingly wolflike. "Deal." A firm shake, but not crushing.

Firm back - it feels, oddly, like his bones might shift and bend before they snapped, if she did apply the pressure. His skin a bit clammy, but not slimy as one might have expected. And, the bell. A flinch - he didn't seem to like the sudden noise.

"Aw, damn. See you in English?" She downs the third milk in a single gulp before rising with her tray in hand.

"Yeah, see ya." He rises as well, shouldering his bag and giving her a bit of a wave before heading off.
((Thanks!))

The apple is shoved into her backpack before she, too, heads off to class.

(and scene)

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Tromp tromp tromp through the woods - it's growing dim, but the days are noticeably longer now, at the cusp of May.

A sharpening sound, stone against steel.

She pauses, listening for a moment. Curiosity turns her path, and she heads towards the scraping sound.

Perhaps she's never seen a Claymore before, a huge two handed blade of Scottish design, but she's looking at one now. It's in a pair of large blue hands- a fact that would have surprised her not so long ago. But she's only seen this troll once or twice.

She hangs back, watching - he's done patrols, she thinks. She hasn't gone on patrol yet, but she's spotted them - the thanes? Something like that...

"It's just a whetstone" He grunts, whoever he is. Blonde, he looks a bit like Frank.

"I know what a whetstone is."

"Fine" He scrapes.

She drifts a few steps closer, watching.

Smooth, even strokes. The Claymore isn't fancy, it's a no nonsense weapon, yet that edge contrasts with the darker gray of the rest of it, almost a silver edge.

"Dagmar, right?" He says after a moment.

Wary. "Yeah."

One hand reaches to her shoulder, fingertips brushing the haft of her halberd - reassuring herself of its presence.

"Run into trouble that needs that recently?" Scrape scrape Scrape.

"No. Don't really... " A pause. "You use that sword a lot?"

A pause, "this old thing?"

"Yeah?"

"This blade is new actually." He says, "I took some of the shackles we had in Thyle, the collars, melted down, and made, crafted into it. I ..had a Claymore once, I lost it. But it looked like this. I told the smith I wanted another like it. He wanted to put a fancy spot for a gemstone in the hilt, gold here and there... I told him no thanks."

A snort. "Gems don't make it cut better. You one of the Narnia trolls, then? Like Tove and Siv?"

A snort, "Narnia? OH the folksof Thyle would hate that comparison." A cchuckle, "Which would make it funny. No, originally I'm from Concordia same as you. Though I spent way too much time in 'Narnia' as you call it.."

"You didn't go crazy? Frank says you go crazy after too long there."

"Frank is wise, but Frank doesn't know everything. Thyle had a ..pocket of sorts a safe haven quality perhaps? Or maybe they did go mad and can use that get a pass for Gildergrain."

"What's a Gildergrain?" She hooks an arm around a tree, leaning insouciantly.

"A tyrant, a villain, a quisling"

"Don't have to be crazy to be an asshole, though."

"Oh no, there are some very sane assholes in the world." He agrees, finished sharpening, he puts the whetstone away, and takes a test swing through the air. The darn thing almost whistles.

Dagmar does. "Sweet!"

"Good work by that weaponsmith" he says with a nod, "Bet I could cut a clear smooth with this, not that I would."

"Why not? What if it was a monster?"

"Pardon, I meant to say a Pine clear through... and as the tree's done nothing to me, seems a bit unsporting don't you think? Besides that would make me the pine's monster" A grunt, "not that I haven't been someone's monster before, but I prefer to not be one if I have a choice about it."

"I almost knocked a tree down." A pause. "Didn't really mean to."

A nod, "It's tricky getting used to the power of being a troll. I remember when it came on me, I pulled someone to safety, and also dislocated their shoulder- All at the same time."

"Yeah. Easy to hurt somebody, I'd bet. Surprised I've not broken more shit, really."

"Fortunately strength is only part of the trollish gift. Some might even say it's the Lesser part." he says and takes another wide arc with the claymore, "When a matter of duty or dedication, or oath sworn comes to play, Trolls find great resolves of will. We're not immune to temptation or fear, but our normal stubbornness goes to 11."

A snort.

"You prefer the term 'steadfastness'?"

"Sounds like a scam. OoooOooo, swear an oath and get this shiny shit." She hitches her baldric up on her shoulder, adjusting the weight. "Except when you fail, you're gonna get sick and weak and everyone will hate you."

"It doesn't have to be Oath related," he says, "but it often is." A curious look, "You get scamed before?"

"I've not made any oaths. Was warned about that right off."

"Smart." A nod, "Shouldn't do it until well after your saining. If ever."

"If ever."