#rivervale_lodge

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Brekke frowns, hunched over a manila envelope that arrived in the mail and its contents, several smaller envelopes, already opened. She has gone through the contents of each, and the note that accompanied them all.

She shakes her head, puts all the pieces back in the big envelope except for the note. Then she takes it all and goes to the phone closet, dialing the number on the note.

It rings, and rings, several times - she might be near ready to hang up, as it doesn't seem to go to voicemail, when it is finally answered. The slight clatter of sound indicates an old-school handset, no cellular touch screen here. "Uh, yes, hello. Larssen here. If you're calling about the cable, I already said I'm not interested." The voice is tired.

She herself is calling from an old-school handset, and the phone itself is rotary. "Matthias. This is Brekke."

"Hmm? Oh, Mmm. Moment, please." Will wonders never cease? Two old world warriors of the same cloth. There is a brief delay, and when he returns, he sounds a little... brighter, his voice a bit stronger. "Chieftain, thank you for your call. My apologies. Every day, it seems, gets a little harder." A sigh.

"I suppose you're calling about Connor. I -am- sorry that this mess has come to your doorstep, and that I'm the one to have left it there."

After he sighs, she says, "Matthias, if there is anything I can do to help you, I would do it. You must tell me."

"And yes. I...can you explain this to me better?"

A few moments, gathering thoughts, and then he rembles, "Forgive me if this is something we already discussed, or that we SHOULD have, long since. I hate to blame my failings on age, but I have no other excuse, as daily Matthew Larssen consumes more of me that I like to admit, and he ages as well. I would that I could have come to discuss in person, but.. I can no longer leave the Glade and hold myself together, and even here, I feel... old." He clears his throat, and refocuses.

"You recall that Connor was earlier a ward of the a children's home for, ahem, wayward youth? Before he came into my care. He was placed there because his own sire, Aidenn Lowell ap Ailil, chose to bequeath his care for others to handle. The boy could not remain with his mortal mother after his Chrysalis revealed his features as a danger to the Escheat, and his sire was not willing to take him into his own keeping.

It is my failing that I didn't tell them earlier that I had asked you to take over the lad's care, but I didn't wish to bring their attention to Rivervale. I know you have your own concerns to deal with. But, I was only able to forestall so long, and now they are aware. I do think this will just be a cursory check in, as I highly doubt things have changed and that Lord Lowell suddenly is feeling paternal instincts blossoming."

"Hm. Ailil. I imagine that it is more a matter of balancing accounts." A pause. "I believe they will expect to check on Connor's instruction...which means risking exposure of his teachers' location. That...is difficult." Another pause. "You think I should cash these checks?"

"They are for Connor's care and education, which I am confident you have done a fine job with. It is a pittance to a wealthy man such as Lowell, and if nothing else, a portion could be set aside for the lad's care in the future... as he may never be able to hold a common mortal employment." A thoughtful pause. "THough, I suppose with these... computer jobs... these days. Well, that's neither here not there. The funds are for his care, and I would advise you to use them as you see fit. I'm sure he receives ample education at the Lodge itself, that you needn't detail any OTHER locale he may also visit."

"I agree. I am just trying to think through the potential questions that may arise."

An approving sound. "Indeed, I'll send over details to have your name added as trustee onto the bank account I had set up earlier. We live a simple life here so I'd scarcely needed to touch the funds provided save for necessities. He still hasn't outgrown the clothes he came to me with, but he does run hard on them and there's only so much mending one can do." A fondness in his tone.

Brekke frowns a bit as Mattias's voice drifts. "Mattias...is there a time where I could bring him to visit you?"

A long pause, and a sigh. "Would you think poorly of me, if I do not wish him to see me like this? Rather, he remembers a strong warrior, and not the... doddering old man I have become. I do not know how much time the dreaming has left me. Even living within a glade, I struggle to find myself more and more as each day passes."

A deep breath. "I understand. Perhaps it would benefit him to know, but I understand your reluctance." A pause. "I will have him write to you today. Something you will be able to see often."

"Thank you, Chieftain. It means more than I can say to know that you are watching over him." Another long pause, and he says, "I've made arrangements, for care of my small glade in my... absence. There is a local, ah... tribe, I suppose it would be, of Prodigals. Their ways are not our own, but they revere this bit of dreaming as a holy place of Mother Earth, and will care for it well. Connor knows the way as well, and they remember him, should he wish to visit in the future, and possibly re-awaken it to the dream at that time. But better that it sleep now, than possibly some others find it who may just ravage it for the quick glamour they might reap."

"Perhaps, after his togail... when he is a wilder, and more mature. For a pooka, that is." A soft, fond chuckle.

"Matthais, what is the name of the Caern for those Prodigals? There is a Caern here, and I have something of a connection to it...perhaps they might support each other, or at least prove helpful to Connor at that time."

"They are of the clan called Forest Walkers, and they call this area, hmmm... it was, Caern of the Maple Glen. Their Chietain is Grandmother Ursula Mother's-Tongue. They are not wolves - and take not kindly to them, so I caution you to tread softly. I feel there is bad blood in the history there. Connor knows some of their stories, if you can get them from out from under his storytelling..."

"I will try, yes. Grandmother Ursula....bear-folk?"

Then a tone of revelation, "Ahhhh, yes...yes, that makes sense, now."

The crinkling of his face into a smile is audible in his tone. "Indeed. The world still yet holds more wonders than many know."

"It does, indeed, and will hold more for much longer because of the good work done by those like you, Matthias."

A chuckle. "Not so much as you, Shackle-Breaker, even now I hear tales of your good work. Perhaps, in another two or three lives, I can hope to live up to your example."

"Well, may we cross paths often in that time." A pause. "I think Connor is nearby...would you wish to speak with him?"

"That would be appreciated, if it's not inconvenient."

"Hold on, please." She carefully sets the receiver on a shelf, squeezes her way back out of the phone closet, then calls out, "Connor? Are you here?"

"I'm not ruining my lunch! I'm just kickstarting dinner!" Is the call back from somewhere pantry-wards.

She suppresses a chuckle. "Come here, please."

He emerges, licking something off his fingers, and offers a cookie to Brekke. "I thought you sounded hungry so I was in there to get you a cookie. It's Peanut Butter, your favorite."

An eyebrow. "Thank you, but I will decline. You had better eat it for me. Connor, I was just speaking to Matthias on the phone. He would like to speak with you." She nods him towards the phone closet.

"Oh!" And he sets the cookie aside, wipes his hands on his trousers a few times, and scrambles into the closet. "Matti! It's been years and years!" His voice exclaims. And conversation ensues - a fairly long chat, interspersed with Connor's gleeful storytelling, and then quieting down to occasional, "Yes... uh-huh. But.... Oh." ... "Okay. I understand." "No, it's okay. I'll talk to you again soon, and I'll ask Boss-Chief to send some of my homework for you to put on your ice box. It's all A-plusses, even if they wrote the wrong letters on the top. " After a while, he hangs up. And is rather contemplative looking when he emerges, if Brekke still awaits outside the closet.

During the conversation, Brekke has gone off on patrol, giving Connor some amount of privacy.

He looks around, finding himself alone, and takes up the cookie he had set aside. He regards it, then puts it in his pocket for later, and instead heads over to one of the chests that holds crafting materials, and is later found hard at work, creating a masterpiece in the medium of crayon, paint, and construction paper. And only a -little- of the paint is on the hard wood floors, and wisely, it's all water soluble anyways.

If asked, the floor was ALWAYS that color, but he'll help wipe it back to plain ol' wood if they INSIST.

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