Welcome at the Witch House

[Kray]

Saber Sloth Ellaria Undertow

Having recently reopened from its move out of Funderland Edna's boarding house now resides looming at the end of a short avenue of recently transplanted apple trees, branches bare waiting through the winter. Dim light escapes a few windows of the multi storied budling, tenants most likely las not burning the midnight oil.

Around the back of the shadowy building far enough that they would not be over heard among more varied fruit trees and thorny berry bushes a brazier burns warm and flickering. Past this a table and two arm chairs had been carried out and set for two. The spread for tonight: Suspended from a branch and dangling alongside the table a full side of beef bloody red and dripping gives of a little smoke from its recent searing; a slow cooker of bone marrow broth, lamb garlic and cloves still simmers; while a leek, mushroom and chestnut pie steams to one side. An expensive bottle of brandy sits in a bucket of ice not that night really needed much in the way of cooling.

The great ogre himself king of autumn sits waiting an elbow on a knee and his terrible jaw resting on his hand. Wondering what manner of changeling has been swept his way on this occasion with a certain thrill found in the not knowing and the anticipation not contained. Shoes shined black tap on the solid earth and his heavy long coat catch in brief bluster of wind that makes the shadowed branches above creak. Hedgespun Fedora pulled low to cast his eyes in darkness against the glare of the nearby flames he watches the dark waiting to see what, who emerges to join him at the table.

[Kray]

Bookkeeping

[Ellaria Undertow]

It takes Ellaria a moment more than she would like to navigate through the river city, the last place she'd gone through was less twisty - and well, smaller. When she'd stopped for directions someone told her to go to an amusement park for the witch house, but those were not the direction given by Sacramento's Autumn King.

Curious.

She rechecks the text she'd received, briefly squinting at the small, dim screen, flips it closed, nodding to her self. The correct street. When she draws closer to the witch house itself, she fixes the fall of her hair in a car window's reflection, slim fingers fluttering, nerves. She swallows. Straightens the cuffs of her thick, but obviously thrifted jacket, and makes her way forward.

She sees the house first, it looked beautiful, and worn. Imposing, for a house. Though it just be the name King Kray had given her for it, and was certainly storied to come with such a name.

She sees the steps, the porch and the door knocker and almost goes to the front door, before remembering around the back. So she adjusts her path, and hopes that to anyone watching it looked a natural move and not spastic mistake.

Before she makes the turn from going to, and in the back she smells it. Her eyelids flutter closed, she takes a deep breath, swallows involuntarily. The empty, ever hungry pit in her stomach growls, like a warning. Like a threat. A hand comes to rest upon it. 'he promised dinner and a chat. i'll get fed' She breathes. 'but will it be enough?' She doesn't know. Most didn't supply enough for her when they offer.

With her thoughts rolling, her stomach growling, she takes the turn and comes to see Autumn's King for the first time.

His Mantle, draws him in a curious chiaroscuro, making the monstrous and frankly, quite ugly man, something still monstrous but attractively striking. Those terrible teeth, make her relax. She knows teeth like that. For a long time in her blurry memory, teeth like that meant community...until. She needs to actively remind herself not to allow her body to tense, to keep her shoulders from hunching around her ears.

It's almost an afterthought that she notices the hedgespun fedora, which makes her think of hunting the area for ingredients for herself, or maybe using the need of something crafted as an inroad to whomever crafted the King's.

She nods, more to herself, then anything really as her eyes sweep the area, looking for more guests than she'd been expecting, looking for nosey neighbours. Lingering on the food.

"...hello, I...assume I'm in the right place...?" She's beautiful, a Fairest, certainly. But when she speaks, her smile - those teeth. Something dangerous, something hungry lives behind her wide doe eyes.

[Kray]

It had taken a lot to not just start on the food as soon as he had laid it out and so the sound of someone approaching the table through the dark elicits his toothy grin the sharp and curved shards catching in the fire light. A light that then reveals Ellaria as it does one the illusory flames of the giants own mantle hisses faintly casting sparks that to a discerning eye look like flower petals, cherry blossoms to those in the know. An involuntary reaction. She had inevitably brought to mind the last beautiful aquatic fairest he had known, if only by how strong of an impression the former had left. But no that wasn't right, this one hadn't done anything of the sort to him yet. And this one looked different, there was something more ethereal about her. And then when she speaks, the voice is not the same. Neither is the scent that comes with this new arrival of something damp and musty that it takes him a moment to place. Books. No stranger to less then pleasant smells it helps pull him back to focus on who was actually before him.

And so the ogre stands to full towering height cracking his thick neck as he does so. "Hm. Well pretty lady with the musical voice and cool hair if your here to dine with The Cannibal King Kray, Dreadlord of the ashen court, and Notary of Sacramento Freehold. Then yes your in the right place." Extending one great grey hand down and across the table offering to shake. Dangerous with an unknown changeling who could be anybody. More so with an unknown gristlegrinder who only needed to get a grip to take chucks out of you. But the flint pupils in bulbous yellow eyes without iris have no left the woman before him, holding in moments on weak place his jaw could find, a look she no doubt would know, the thought has crossed his mind. How would he go about eating her if the mood took him. "Oh. Pretty no doubt, but there's something I know in there to isn't there." Said quitter well as quite as the baritone voice is likely to get, and more curious, maybe he hadn't meant for that to slip out at all. But the nasty toothy grin is back. And so is the more conversational volume. "Ha. I hope you like your beef rare we half a cow and some to get through." Maybe he should have brought the entire cow, well there was always more food in the kitchen.

[Ellaria Undertow]

The illusory Mantle-lights flicker, changing too quickly for Ellaria to catch out of the corner of her eyes, her focus on the King’s face. His teeth. Part of her wonders how they would feel. Would they slice clean? Or tear ragged like hers?

He stands, Ellaria’s head tilts to keep his teeth in viewmaintain eye contact, reaches out a meaty fist for a handshake, Ellaria takes it. He’s indubitably stronger than her. But if he drags her in, she’ll be close enough to rip and tear too. The mutually of damage, she doesn’t begin to deceive herself that it would be destruction, calms her.

“He of many titles. King, Dread Lord, Notary,” a breath, hunger.want “Cannibal. Then yes indeed I am in the correct place. I am called Ellaria Undertow, Ashen Courtier.” offering him a small curtsy, more of a bend of her knees than anything else. Her hair, having previously set to lay just moments before, floats behind her in an elegant arch.

As she rises, she doesn’t verbally address the King’s softer, (though hardly quiet words!) only offering him a pleasant, polished, smile. Less than a heartbeat after, she pulls her lips from her teeth and offers her kith-kin (for what else could he be with teeth like that?) a real smile. Followed by a laugh of her own, “Charred black or still brea-bleeding, I’ll eat anything.”

[Kray]

His shake is strong and not much in the way on controlled, just enough to break bones. Withdrawing after the shake that they both still have the same number of fingers they started with seems like a very good sign. Sitting down heavy into his armchair, which groans and creaks in complaint from the massive weight of the ogre, gesturing loosely with one large hand to the other for her to sit as a short deep laugh is brought forth. "Ha. yes I have wracked up a few haven't I." Some given, if by lack of choice, others claimed Sacramento had done a lot to make the full array quite the mouthful. "Hm. Well that's good. Because if you weren't I've said enough that I'd have to eat you instead." The jest is an attempt at a good natured jest, but those are to his strong suit and when said by a self confessed cannibal then well.

Her name is focused on, names were important. And then her hair gets much cooler then it already was. "Huh. Now that's rather neat isn't it." But the same great hand waves the courtesy away. "Ah. I don't go in for all that. Titles when appropriate yes. But the rest of the pageantry is down to you." People were short enough without all the bowing and bobbing. "So. Ellaria Undertow welcome to Sacramento. What brings you to the river city?" Starting off with an easy one, but always curious to see how it's answered.

But it seems she might be a lost after his own heart, or well stomach. As grin is met with grin. "Oh. Breathing, bleeding or begging right. If it's on the menu none of it matters." The whistle of wind in the trees makes the hanging half carcass sway and the king of Autumn hefts himself once again grabbing it by the dangling hoof as he does and with ease pulls it up until the joint where hip meets thigh is exposed and severed in a brutish brutal bite followed by a sharp strong tug to rip the remaining gristle and tendons, leaving the giant with the charred cows legs in one hand and a red bloody mess across his mouth. "Hm. Since that's the case. Eat up. I promised dinner after all." And he did take his promises quite seriously.

[Ellaria Undertow]

With more caution Ellaria eases into her own seat, breathing out a started sort of laugh, "If you did, I'd try to get a few mouthfuls in myself." Perhaps a tad blithely to be speaking so to the Cannibal King, but, well. He started it.

A nod, hair floating gently at the motion, "If you can believe it, hours of practice." Her lips pull up into a wry sort of smile. "Alright then, Kray." A risk. Slight. Deliberate. "Ellaria it is, when we're not standing on ceremony."

She adjusts how she's sitting, hand unconsciously reaching for the buffet laid out before her. Her fingers curl against her palm, as she deliberately relaxes herself, setting one hand to her lap, and the other to curl a wayward floating strand behind her ear. She hadn't yet been invited to partake.

"I thank you for my welcome." though there wasn't yet an Oath or an equivalent between them, "I've been something of nomad for some time now, lingering for months, or years. Sacramento is simply the next stop for me."

As Kray heaves himself up, Ellaria can't help but murmur, "Fear just gives the meat a certain, spice hm?"

Watching the lay of blood across Kray's mouth, of how quickly, easily he severed the leg, she smiles, all teeth, fascinated.

Before the final syllable leaves Kray's terrible jaw, Ellaria's up and building her own plate, (and bowl - the bone marrow broth smelled heavenly. And honestly with this feast before her, she will need something of a nice complement to wet and wash it all down. (it's almost as if she completely misses the brandy, focus pined and primed elsewhere)) And just this once in company forgoes utensils, and goes at the meat, all fingers and teeth.

[Kray]

The heavy leg of red rare meat is longer then the table is across never mind the ogres plate, clearly he plans to be feasting upon it for some time. One great hand finding purchase and tearing a bloody strip of haunch for him to chew his way through as they talked. Taking chunks swift and powerfully, managing two bites to the one of most people. And making quite the mess as he does so.

What self respecting lost wouldn't try, especially one so well equipped for the task, but it was the normally for the massive ogre. "Oh. I don't doubt you would. Probably get a chunk or two of me as a consolation prize." The way he fought did usually result in sustaining injuries. "Hm. But only the loser gets eaten." And this ashen fairest would need to be formidable indeed to come out victorious. But the king seems to have taken the vivacious retort well enough.

At mention of time and practice one of the sparking candle flames of the giants mantles flares briefly into a hourglass of the same illusory flame spinning end over end before guttering down to its original candle flame state again. "Huh. You know I can imagine that." His own talents, plans measured in years and required a slow burning patience that often felt throttling. But then bulbous yellow eyes narrow, in either annoyance or playfulness. "Oh. So. By your reckoning this is not a time that calls for titles, is that right Ellaria?" His trollish temperament for word play coming to the fore. Had he set a trap or was he continuing the so far good natured jesting.

Well that was little enough to go and of course snares his curiosity a little. Reaching for the bottle of brandy with the hand that isn't tearing ribbons of beef from the bones in front of him, as he continues. "Ah. A nomad hey. By choice or necessity?" A rather important distinction, he knew all to well that not every freehold was happy or even willing to host cannibals, they tended to bring attention where it was not wanted. "Uh. And why then Sacramento?" Pausing his decadent consumption of the cows flesh to open the brandy bottle leaving red bloody smears all around the rim.

Shaking his head slowly. "Ah. No I eat because I am hungry. We all need to eat. I promote fear for entirely other reasons." Pausing to throw his head back and pour a healthy measure of brandy down his gullet. Then offering the bottle across the table. "Oh. I am am of no doubt they are scared when the realise what's happening, after the first bite or two. Everything fears being slaughtered when its happening to them." A wonderful and monstruous hypocrisy given what human kind did to animals on mass everyday, they felt the fear of death, the fear of being eaten.

But it would seem that his dinner guest had no fear or illusion of what she was, the gusto of her gorging was one he knows all to well himself. To witness it , another so unashamed was a soothing balm the giant is unsure he has ever truly experienced. Not that eh can remember anyway.