2020.03.26 - Bear in the Cozy Wood House
The plan was simple enough. Otis and Ciaran would take a look out in the woods near Queen's Cove and see if any of the signs of the abomination Tenebris had spoken of were evident. Otis didn't recall seeing any, but then he hasn't really roamed the woods in a while. So, dressed in jeans and a work shirt and driving his battered old pick-up truck, Otis drove Ciaran out. Unsurprisingly, it was a pretty quiet trip.
It probably -is- a surprise, then, when the big man pulls his truck down a small, unmarked road, bumping and rolling for five minutes or so before it opens into a clearing. In the clearing, a small, sturdy house clearly built for a person of Otis' size, sits invitingly. There are curtains in the window, and on the small porch there's a bench, heavy and well-made, facing out towards the woods. A building about the same size sits behind the house, a heavy padlock on the door. Dear god, there's even a coop with three fat chickens and a sleepy-looking rooster in a small yard between the buildings. It's remarkably...-homey-looking-.
Otis shuts off the truck, then, and climbs out, slamming the door and beckoning through the open window with a grunt. Then he's moving towards the house, stopping on the way to pick up some sticks in the yard and chuck them into the tree line. Then, he looks back at the truck and motions again.
Ciaran is dressed in a comfortable, short-sleeved beige button up which he's left open over a white wife beater. He's also wearing a pair of jeans, although his seem tighter on him - probably because they're Jesse's, like half of all the clothes Ciaran wears. He apparently can't be bothered to go get his own. As the pair pull up to the house, Ciaran looks around through the windshield. "Huh," he says thoughtfully.
Ciaran sits a moment in the truck as Otis gets out, watching the other man as he approaches the house. Shrugging, he opens his door and slams it shut, following after Otis with curiosity. He smiles faintly at the sight of the hens and rooster. "Do you like your eggs fresh, Otis?" he asks playfully as he catches up with the other man.
Otis grunts in amusement at the tease, his eyes crinkling as he reaches out to tousle the younger man's hair. He shrugs, though, and looks over at the coop fondly. He smiles a bit at Ciaran, then, and steps up on the porch, where he's immediately met by a fat raccoon with three legs. It waddles up, chittering at Otis while watching the Fae carefully. It must be a request, because Otis fishes in a pocket and comes up with a Brazil nut, of all things, which he hands over to the raccoon, who immediately begins gnawing at the tough shell. "Rocco," Otis introduces the trash panda to Ciaran almost formally, as if he were presenting the animal for approval. Not that he waits for it, unlocking the door to the house and pushing inside.
Inside, the house is even homier. All the furniture is clearly custom-made to Otis' size, each piece exquisitely hand-crafted. A big sofa dominates much of the living space, a couple of cozy afghans tossed over the back. A wingbacked chair sits near the sofa, creating (maybe ironically) a conversation area with a wooden cocktail table. A replica 40s-era radio is the only entertainment source in the entirety of the house, sitting on the mantle of the squat-looking fireplace. The kitchen is likewise 'adorable', with vintage-era appliances that seem new, and countertop appliances that are -clearly- new. There's only one room that's walled off, and it's clearly the bathroom, as Otis' giant bed is visible at the back of the house where there are no windows, piled high with homemade quilts.
Otis drops his keys on the counter as he enters, holding the door open so that first Rocco, then Ciaran, can enter, motioning for the latter to take a seat. The former climbs up on the kitchen counter, clearly not in need of an invitation.
Ciaran notices the raccoon immediately, watching it with a curious expression as Otis interacts with it. As Otis tells him the creature's name, he bursts into a smile. "I never would have pegged you for having a pet raccoon. Well, as much as one could consider them pets." As he follows after Otis, he looks around and takes in the house's furnishings. "Wow. You know, a lot of this isn't your standard mass-produced stuff. I can tell just from looking at the pieces." As he walks over to one of the hand-carved pieces, he runs his hand over the wood gently. "This wasn't machine-made at all. Huh."
Walking over to the sitting area, he takes a seat on one end of the sofa and looks over to where Rocco climbs up onto the counter. A small smile comes to his lips as he turns to regard Otis carefully. "There's a great big heart inside that great big body. I don't doubt it for a moment." He makes himself more comfortable, glancing around again. "Are we here to pick something up? I thought we were going to go exploring."
Otis snorts at the idea that Rocco is a pet, even as he's opening a cabinet and getting out a small bowl that says 'Rocco' on it. A bowl that he fills with oat cereal from a glass container. Scratching the raccoon between the ears, he opens the fridge, retrieving two bottles of beer labeled with a local IPA. He pops the top off both with a thick thumb, and walks into the sitting area, where he offers one to Ciaran. He seems a bit proud when Ciaran notes the furniture's not mass-produced, and he taps his chest with the neck of his beer. The question gets a lift of the bear's eyebrows, and he nods, moving into the bedroom and retrieving a piece of wood roughly the size of a poster. On it, a map has been carefully carved, from the coast to the edge of town. Otis taps it, twirling his bottle around himself, indicating the woods they're in.
Ciaran lets out a faint chuckle as Otis gives the raccoon some food. "Too cute," he mutters under his breath. Otis is sure to hear it, but he doesn't care if the other man hears him being called 'cute' because it's true. As he accepts the beer, he brings it to his lips and takes a sip. Otis taking credit for the furniture causes Ciaran to tilt his head to the side. "Wait, you made all this?" He runs a hand over the arm of the sofa with that same reverent touch as before. "I didn't know you could carve wood. Sheesh, forget carving. This goes way beyond that." Turning his head to look at Otis, he smiles mysteriously. "I supposed I shouldn't be surprised, though. It's very... you." What he means by that is anyone's guess.
As he watches Otis retreat into the bedroom area before returning with the map, he nods and looks over it. Pointing to a spot on it, he says "There's the park. And we are..." he trails off, unable to pinpoint exactly where the house is in comparison to the rest of the woods.
Otis grins a bit at Ciaran's reaction to his craftmanship, and he points in the direction of the outbuilding. Or maybe it's the chickens. His expression turns a bit warm when Ciaran compliments him, though, and he turns his attention to the map. He nods as Ciaran identifies the areas, and when he asks about the house, the bear lands a big finger in the correct spot, about the halfway point. Then he drags a finger to another area, and circles his finger. "Wolves," he says authoritatively. Then he drags his finger to another point. "Witches." He wrinkles his nose, considering, and amends, see-sawing a hand in the air. The rest of the map gets an unconcerned look, and a gesture at his own broad chest. Everybody has their territory, it seems.
Ciaran nods thoughtfully as Otis points out different areas of the map and who frequents them. "I didn't know there were so many other types of people here in this area, but I guess it makes sense. Noah mentioned other witches, so of course there would be others. A coven perhaps? Wolves... you mean werewolves?" He tilts his head curiously. "That would make sense, given the level of other supernatural activity." Tapping the spot of the park, he draws a line deeper into the forest. "This is the path the magic took. I traced it back and I can remember it clearly." Tapping the spot twice with his finger, he adds "That's the best place to start, with nothing else to go on."
Leaning back, Ciaran takes another sip of his beer and looks around. "So this is your place? It's really nice. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I have to say this isn't it." Smiling and patting the wood, he adds "I like it. I kind of waver between being a fan of wooden furniture and hating it because it means trees had to die for it. But I like what you've done here. It really speaks to the naturalist in me."
Otis nods at the question about the wolves, and holds up two fingers. Raising one, he circles it around the map several times. Then, he holds his fist in front of the map, and opens it in a burst-like movement that morphs into the two fingers again. He nods as Ciaran traces the magic, and sets the map aside, leaning it against the wingback chair. Dropping onto the sofa, he rests his beer on his knee, and nods at the correct assumption. He taps the arm of the sofa, and winks, leaning a bit closer to Ciaran. "Deadfall."
Ciaran watches the gesture over the map, pursing his lips thoughtfully. A sideways glance is aimed at Otis. "I'm doing my best, big guy, but you know even you can be confusing sometimes. But it's okay, I get the gist." As Otis sits next to him and leans in close, Ciaran's mouth turns into a tiny O of understanding. "Wow, you're really good if you can get all of this from deadfall. I've seen some smaller carvings, but way too often the pieces just aren't big enough." Tapping his lower lip thoughtfully, he adds "But then again you're in the heart of a huge forest so I guess I shouldn't be /too/ surprised," he adds with a grin. Taking another sip of beer, he leans his head back and rests it for a moment. "Still can't believe what I felt that day. It felt toxic, y'know?" He gives a one-shouldered shrug. "We'll stop it, though."
Otis nods, tipping his beer to his lips and taking a swig before he makes a circle in the air with the bottle, indicating the huge forest. He leans back when Ciaran does, turning his head to watch the younger man as he talks. He doesn't have much to offer in advice, but his large hand finds the Fae's knee and gives it a firm squeeze of encouragement. Then he indicates Rocco, who's making quite the mess of his meal, but who looks happy enough. He grunts, his expression dark as he considers. His hand tightens again on Ciaran's knee, and he releases it as he drains his beer. "Twisted," he chuffs, offering his own perspective. He even makes a show of holding his nose, although there's nothing cute about it.
Ciaran nods thoughtfully, resting his own hand over Otis' on his knee before the big man pulls away to touch his nose. "Twisted, I agree," he adds thoughtfully. "So many words we can use, but the bottom line is whatever happened in the forest... and could still be happening... is beyond unnatural." A full-body shudder courses through Ciaran at the thought. "Anyways. I'm not too keen on going back there, but I don't think we're going to have a choice. Unless we wander into something else that's a byproduct of that magic... which, after last time, I'm not in much of a mood to do." He frowns at the thought.
Otis feels the shudder in the bones of the sofa, and he instinctively reaches out to pull Ciaran into his warmth, wrapping a massive arm around him and snugging him tight. Up close, his scent is strong and tinged with the scent of the beer he just finished. He raises his hand to pat the younger man on the head in what is probably meant to be a comforting manner, but is really more like the patting of a beloved pet. There's a little stroking, but otherwise, the bear is just...there. Strong and sturdy and present for those who need it.