#rivervale_lodge

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It is a sunny, lovely day in Rivervale, or at least as lovely as a day can be when it involves sitting in school all afternoon. Fortunately, school is over, and Amity can forget about the worksheet currently sitting in her backpack, or at least pretend for a little while that it does not exist.

As she heads home from the bus stop, she notices something odd in the sky. There is a large, fluffy cloud drifting over the treetops, except it does not seem to be drifting in quite the right direction. The breeze is carrying the other clouds one way, while this one is slowly moving in the opposite direction.

She stops, craning her head back, back, back....

The cloud continues on its peculiar course, slowly passing over the treetops against the breeze. From where Amity is standing, it looks just like a cloud, although the longer she stares, the harder it is to shake the feeling that there is something slightly... off about it.

It's not moving as it should, and it's... lumps and bumps are not correctly bumpy and lumpy?

VERY odd.

Surely... well...

The girl stashes her backpack in a bush, for safekeeping, and it's a bird which emerges.

Coincidentally, no one else is around. The other kids that got off at her same stop wandered on their way without noticing - the muggles, that is, and Egon and Les ran off towards the general store where the Troll proprietor seems to have a soft touch and a generous scoop when it comes to the bulk candy bin.

Pidge is perfectly capable of solo adventures! No need for brothers!

STINKY brothers!

She wings straight up into the air with a powerful burst and a clap of feathers.

(So stinky, yes.)

As Amity gets higher, the cloud begins to look even stranger. The lumps and bumps that seemed merely wrong from the ground are starting to look almost deliberate, with edges and angles that clouds really ought not to have. And there, just ahead of her, something seems to be sticking out of the white mass.

It is difficult to tell what it is from this distance. A chimney? A tower? A particularly ambitious cloud formation?

Whatever it is, it definitely wasn't visible from the ground.

Aethership? Ma's talked about those....

As Amity draws closer, the strange shapes resolve into something unmistakable. It is a castle, but one made entirely from the cloud itself, with billowing towers, soft-edged battlements, and great cloudy balconies rising from the mist. The whole impossible castle drifts steadily against the wind.

Then, from one of the nearer balconies, a small figure appears. A young boy in rumpled finery spots the approaching pigeon and immediately straightens, looking considerably more pleased with himself than the situation seems to warrant.

"You there! Pooka!" he calls imperiously. "Attend to me!"

Regardless, it's INTERESTING and this is clearly her turf now, so hers to investigate. Silly trolls can't fly, after all.

Oh!

Oh, hahahha. Who is this? The pigeon circles closer, and her warble sounds almost like laughter.

As she gets nearer, she sees, as one might expect, the graceful curves on the pointed tips of his, shall we say, haughty ears.

SO haughty

Is he... yes, he seems to be snapping his fingers.

Amity... wheels and whistles a mocking song.

Is it just the sidhe boy? Any signs of others?

The boy gives her a rather severe look as she circles closer, apparently unimpressed by the laughter.

"Yes, well. Since you are here, you may as well be useful." His chin lifts a little higher. "I require assistance."

No one else, oddly enough, as this boy, Childling though he may be (no mere human child, so of vastly greater Intellect and Ma-TOOR-ity as all know) appears to be on his own.

How old does he appear to be? Her age? Younger?

It seems very strange that he is alone. Most parents are not so sensible as Amity's.

The boy looks younger than Amity, perhaps six or seven, though the elaborate clothes and pointed ears give him a rather grand appearance for such a... SMALL child. His finery has clearly seen better days, with a few wrinkles and bits of cloud clinging to it, but he still carries himself with the solemn dignity of someone who is quite certain he is Important.

He watches the pigeon circle closer, one eyebrow lifting slightly as though he is waiting for her to stop gawking and get on with whatever it is she intends to do.

His aplomb suffers a small but unmistakable setback as the cloud castle drifts through a particularly saturated patch of cloud. The damp mass smacks him lightly in the face like a wet towel, leaving his carefully arranged hair plastered against his forehead.

He splutters, blinking furiously as he wipes his face with one sleeve, and for a moment the imperious young lord is considerably less impressive than he was a few seconds ago.

"Pbbbppppt! Ack!"

As Amity draws closer, the castle resolves into a proper little palace, all of it made from billowing white cloud!

Rounded towers rise above soft battlements, with a central keep and cloudy walls connecting them.

Several broad balconies and terraces jut from the palace, their surfaces flattened enough to make comfortable landing spots, while smaller ledges curl beneath the towers.

Even as it drifts through the sky, the whole thing subtly billows and reshapes around the edges.

As the boy is distracted with wiping off his face, she lands, and is a girl once more. Warbles become laughter!

"I am Peregrine," he announces, with the unmistakable air of someone expecting the name to mean something. "Peregrine, of House Fiona." His expression grows distinctly petulant.

"I have been forbidden from using my full titles as Sir Peregrine Ashcombe ap Fiona as a completely unjust punishment."

He huffs, then adds with considerable certainty, "They are very great and ponderous titles when I am finally permitted to have them back. As is proper for a Very Fine Noble."

Head-tilt, all bird. "Why were you punished, lordling?"

Peregrine's expression immediately becomes aggrieved. "I was caught sneaking out after I had been expressly forbidden to leave the palace without my Lord or Lady. I merely wished to explore a little, and I was perfectly capable of doing so safely."

He folds his arms, his damp sleeves still dripping onto the cloudy floor. "So they grounded me. For an entire week!" His nose wrinkles at the injustice of it all! "And then they forbade me from leaving the palace at all, which was rather excessive."

He pauses, apparently deciding how much to confess, but then relents and answers, "So I left anyway. I simply took the palace with me."

She hums softly, considering. "And thus, very clearly grounded."

She stomps a foot, for emphasis.

Peregrine cracks a grin at that, apparently unable to argue with the impeccable logic. The smile fades, however, as he glances out over the edge of the cloudy balcony and watches the landscape drifting by below, turning worried.

"Yes, well..." He looks back at her. "There is a small difficulty." His eyes flick toward the palace around them. "I don't actually know how to steer it. Or get it to go back."

"Uh-oh." A whistle.

Peregrine gives her an appraising look.

"I have no court with me," he admits, with some reluctance. "But you will do as my retainer for the moment." He gestures grandly toward the palace. "So, fix it."

Meanwhile, the palace continues to float placidly, hey, she can see her house from here! There appears to be some wards present, as Mrs. McGillicuddy, peeping out her window for something to complain about, doesn't notice a thing.

They are rather high up, but Amity DOES have keen eyesight, of course.

Another laugh.

Peregrine fidgets. "I fail to see the humor in the situation." His lip verging on a pout.

And a growl... OMINOUS? No, Peregrine quickly looks the other way and pretends that was not his stomach.

"What's the magic word?"

She digs around in her pockets, producing a pouch of sour patch kids. She wordlessly offers them over.

Peregrine looks genuinely perplexed by the question as he considers it. "I only know how to open the doors and stand grandly on the balcony and wave down at the peasants. What more is there to know? I have people to run things."

He gestures vaguely around as though this is self-evident.

The Lordlings eyes widen and he takes the packet enthusiastically! "Thank you!" He says, as if forgetting this is his Just Due and retainers need not be thanked.

"It makes cotton candy." He looks toward one of the towers. "Only cotton candy, unfortunately.
I am rather tired of it." He glances back at Amity, as he swallows the sour treat. "You may have some, if you wish."

"All my people are at the grand fete." There is a brief, wistful pause before he straightens and clears his throat, apparently determined to move past that particular subject. "Where I was not permitted to go. Not that I care." He says, OBVIOUSLY.

Peregrine looks faintly embarrassed as he admits, "I tried saying, 'Forward! Onward! Attend to me!' and several other suitably commanding things, but it just keeps drifting."