5: Blayne Leowyn of Draëll

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He watched the (human?) man stride into the edges of the ring of light provided by the fire with nary a care in the world, as if he hadn't traversed across an expanse of forest riddled with fae beasts who would not have hesitated to shred the skin from his back were it not for Blayne's machinations.

"You are either incredibly stupid," he remarked wryly, one hand lingering near the dagger sheathed at his hip, "or incredibly self-assured of your own abilities to ward off the beasts."

The man crooked an almost mischievous smile at that and came to a halt before the pit where the flames of the fire were contained. There was an air of nonchalance and mystery about him, and Blayne could not quite deduce if he were indeed human or not. The lateness of the hour, the ease with which he had entered the small property so deeply set within the forest, all suggested that perhaps this male was anything but, though Blayne had not met him before. Therefore, he was wary of the stranger.

Human or Other, a threat was a threat.

"You are remarkably difficult to find," the man said idly. "Been circling these woods for hours yet. Actually, that reminds me- my mount-"

"Your horse is safe," Blayne snorted. "My wards ensure it."

He nodded at that before implanting his hands deep into his pockets, staring into the flames before him impassively. "Blayne, is it? Or do you prefer your human name?"

"What do you think?"

The man's brows raised at that, a rueful grin on his face. Legally, he was known as James Woode. The documentation and bureaucratic paperwork this damn world seemed so intent to drown themselves with all stated as such. It had been a point of contention among his kind to be given humanised and remarkably Western names, as if the eradication of the namesake of his birth would make him more human, more like them. At the time, it had been classed as an action to transition the Others into human society more smoothly, but even as a child Blayne knew it for it was.

By taking away his name, a piece of his identity would be lost. The more of his identity he lost, the less connection he had to what he truly was, to where he belonged, and with all things lost, so were the bonds to his people. The more broken sense of self one had, the easier they were to control, manipulate, manoeuvre into a position that was acceptable.

He had little recollection of Draëll, the world from which he had been snatched from. The Reveal occurred suddenly, ripping him from his plane of existence when he was but a child, displacing him and so many others into an environment that did not welcome the newness and strangeness of the Other into their midst.

"Blayne it is, then," the man said, drawing him from recollections of his youth that were far from pleasant.

Instead, he tilted his head to the side slightly and considered the other man. The hour was late and his presence was unannounced. Were it not for the incessant chirping of the pixies that lingered near the edges of wooden walkway he had constructed around the peripherals of his territory, he would not have known of the man's presence until he had been within the bounds of the property. Suspicion lurked heavily under Blayne's skin, his distrust of most humans, and even faeborn, rooted deeply from his experience. "State your business," he demanded succinctly. "Then leave."

If the other man was perturbed by Blayne's bluntness, he hardly showed it. Rather he rocked back and forth on his heels a bit before procuring a pointed toothpick from his pocket and clamping it between his teeth. This he rolled about absently, as if distracted by his deep ponderings, then he studied Blayne with an almost amused expression on his face. "Allow me to introduce myself, my good man," he began cheerfully. "Name's Finnegan Holt, a representative on behalf of your subscription to Mrs Addilyn's Anxious Hearts Society matchmaking service-"

"What?"

"Of course, you weren't expecting me, but as I am sure you are aware by now, you have made a connection-"

"A WHAT?"

Finnegan Holt blinked owlishly in his direction. "A connection," he pressed. "A match, with one of our female profiles currently in Addy's service."

"You speak as if I know what the devil you're about," Blayne snapped. Society of Anxious Hearts? Of all the nonsensical human notions-

"By any chance," Mr Holt hedged cautiously, his flippantly cheerful expression now considerably wary and suspect, "may I see your tablet?"

"Tablet?" Blayne thought the idiot quite mad. "Look, I am going to politely ask you-" Something heavy and flat slapped into the dust by his feet quite suddenly, followed by the excited chirps and whirrs of the pixies as they flitted away. He cast them a furious glare as they skirted far from his reach, the trio of pint-sized imps snickering at him from the safety of a shadowed tree branch. "Fucking pixies," he muttered as he bent to pick up the tablet they had deposited emphatically before him. Flicking off the dust, he tossed it to Finnegan. The man caught it effortlessly. "I had no part in this, whatever it was," Blayne clipped, casting another glower at the excitable beings. "The pixies-"

"I know of pixies," Holt murmured, his gaze riveted to the contents before him. He flipped over the page and studied something on the wood for a moment before he raised his eyes, expression unreadable, back to Blayne. "You've only made one connection and it correlates with what I thought."

"As far as I am concerned, I have made no connection."

"Well, I suppose the connection has been made on your behalf. Regardless, I am here to confirm your attendance to the first round of socials, and if the initial introduction transpires well enough, you will be invited to return for the second, and then the third- as these things go."

Blayne pointed his finger at the other man, raising his brows significantly. "You may take that tablet and show it up your arse. I am not interested. Understand that my so-called subscription to such services was under the pretence of a lark on behalf of some soon to be demised pixies."

Holt glanced up at the aforementioned beings, who twittered eagerly at his perusal. No doubt they would be shining brightly and preening under his scrutiny. His gaze returned to Blayne once more, an amused smile pulling at his lips. "Are you certain?" he pressed. "She is quite... beautiful."

"Beauty can be rather mundane if the wearer is of little substance," he said pointedly. "And such a girl would hardly need the services of a matchmaker, surely?"

Holt snorted. "I am surprised at your prejudice. We are all borne of circumstance and substance, you should know this better than anyone. Have you not been actively working for years to change the prejudice of human minds against the very nature of the beasts you tame?"

"There is no taming here." Blayne folded his arms across his chest, rather impatient and bristling at the thread of this conversation. His efforts were the combined result of balance and the relentless urgings of his other companions, friends displaced from Draëll who had developed into brothers. It was not up to him to change the nature of displaced beasts who were not welcome and feared in large proportions in this world, though he had the power to temper their instinctual nature, to craft tentative balances in an ever increasing battle of give and take. His ability to calm and, at times, restrain even the most wicked creature is what had ultimately saved them all from extinction.

Holt sighed, the sound fringed with a mild frustration. It was clear that although he came off as an inordinately patient and mild-mannered gentleman, his patience appeared to be wearing thin. "Look," he began, his tone succinct and frank, "I would not have agreed to seek you out and implore you to consider meeting the woman if I didn't think what was occurring here bore some significance to... your kind. Your involvement has been forced by meddlesome pixies and I understand your hesitancy but..." His eyes caught the gilded flames of the fire he stood before and if Blayne did not know any better he rather thought they began to glow and burn with a lambent haze, shining golden and lucid under Holt's serious brow. "This is of import, Blayne Leowyn. She is... special." His hand flipped from his pocket and he procured a tiny white card which he extended to the other man. "The address. Proceedings commence at noon. Just... think about it. It can't hurt to meet her, can it?"

He hesitated, but in the end he accepted the card from Holt's grasp. The other man nodded once as if to assure himself of something. Before he took his leave, he placed the tablet he had scrutinized earlier on an upturned log that served as a makeshift seat before the fire. "I have procured her file for you, should you wish to look at it," he told Blayne, and then he merged into the shadows and disappeared into the night.

The pixies were dancing ebulliently above him, their chirps and murmurings almost too loud over the bristling cracks of the fire. Blayne turned, intending to return to the confines of his cottage, but a gentle urging- a persistent tug- almost insisted he move to the tablet instead. The feeling was strange, tangible and impossible to ignore. It caused him to still and consider it, not immune to instinctual flares that normally guided most of his actions, especially when he encountered situations that were unstable and volatile in nature. He moved the other way slowly instead as he pocketed the card and retrieved the wooden tablet left by Holt.

There was a wildly cartoonish caricature of her depicted in a corner and distinguishable human characteristics could be determined from it. A pointed nose, large eyes, exaggeratedly huge lashes and arching brows- nothing that would immediately hint at her true identity.

The rest was more revealing.

Species: Human

Height: 5'7

Appearance: blue eyes, ash brown hair, tall

Client's note: "For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought."

He tossed it aside with an inarticulate growl, casting an irked glare up at the pixies before marching inside. Though useful, their presence could be a bothersome chore. A pixie's nature adhered to meddling and light-hearted trickery. They were observant of him, following his movements throughout each day and most nights with keen avidness and scrutiny, and it became apparent that they thought he was lonely. Societal papers had started appearing on his stoop, his breakfast table, folded into the saddle of his mount, and all contained what he now recognised as a matchmaking service- though at the time he had thought nothing of it other than them being a fickle nuisance, as usual.

The aching, gnawing feeling in his chest pangedand grew with quiet ardency, the door a potent barrier between him and the tabletthat harboured something that stoked dormant embers deep within him, and thoughhe endeavoured to ignore it... he knew that he could not.

Before he retired for the evening, he returned outside to retrieve the errant tablet and simultaneously toss a boot at the pixies nestling in the high branches of a tree- the other boot had been lost days prior due to their playful trickery.