07.24.08 - Turmal Returns to Redwall

Characters involved: Madison, Barkus, Martha, Turmal, Layne, Turner

Turmal returns to the abbey after years of traveling. He meets several of the inhabitants, and catches up on things.

Redwall Abbey: Great Hall

Madison takes it open herself to open another of the tomes, and produce a well-used parchment and charcoal pencil. "You're right there." she murmurs under her breath.

Turmal is in awe of the surroundings... but not an unfamiliar awe; his expression is a subtle one, but it broadcasts the nostalgia he feels. He wanders over to a chair and sits, staring at the fireplace.

Barkus another glance to Madison and her parchment briefly before he's back to soup "It still doesn't seem worth the bother for a little pain" the arrival of Turmal makes him look over briefly but he's not getting up, watching the mouse to his seat idly.

Martha enters the Great Hall, very late for lunch. She's salvaged, from the kitchens, some food that was left over, and carries a small wooden plate upon which is a chunk of bread, smeared with a little jam, and a hard piece of cheese beside it. Her other paw carries a wooden cup of some cordial; smells like blackcurrant. The hedgehog picks her through the hall, to find herself a free seat, concentrating on this task, she is too engaged, at first, to aknowledge the others until she is sat.

Turmal's gaze is interrupted by the hedgehog's appearance with her lunch. He smiles over at the busy hedgemaid, but this gesture seems to go unnoticed at first. He watches her sit and averts his gaze back to the flames and the all-too familiar tapestry.

Barkus is about to switch back to his reading glasses and work when the other hedgehog turns up. He offers a nod but it seems to go unnoticed, can't have that so he tries the slightly more direct route "Hello"

Martha settles and looks up to smile and nod greetings to those around the room, she perks her head to Barkus's 'hello' and turns her attention that way, responding with a smile and a "Hello there." towards the other hedgehog. Her paws linger over her cheese.

Turmal also looks up and back at the hedgehog's greeting, but only briefly... He looks back at the other who is about to eat, and looks as if he wants to say something, but lets a sigh out under his breath before looking at the floor and back up at the tapestry.

Barkus tilts his head slightly "So...er, you're a hedgehog" well it's a rare thing. His ear twitches to the sound of a sigh and he looks back round to the mouse, frown settling in "Somethin' wrong with that?"

Martha also takes an interest at the sigh, though she retorts with a bemused "Well... Um, I seem to be. And so are you, by the way." to Barkus, before showing her interest, looking with curiosity at the mouse. "Are you, um, alright?"

Turmal, at first, has no idea he is being spoken to... When he realizes the maid addresses him, he quickly looks over, "Oh, me? I guess you can say alright", he pauses, "although I am having a bit of a flashback just now... Was sitting in this same chair a while ago, seems like forever ago actually."

Turmal adds, coming back to reality slowly, "How is that lunch, looks absolutely delicious..."

Barkus still frowns at the mouse for a minute, a brow slowly raising "Uh huh and I crawled underneath it" he sounds sarcastic but it's actually true. He turns back to the table with a wave towards the kitchen "There'll be more food left if ye ask for it" a quick glance to Martha and he pauses, trying to think of something to say, finally shaking his head and going back to his soup "Never mind"

Martha picks at her cheese and smiles at the mouse. "The food is good, yes." She gives Barkus a bit of a puzzled frown as he says 'Never mind' without seeming to put too much of relevance in front of it. "Um, sorry..." She offers. When in doubt of something, apologise. It's usually a good ploy.

Turmal is oblivious to any sarcasm at the moment and kneels up on the seat of the chair, leaning on the back. He smiles at the hedgehog eating soup, "Well thank you sir, I shall make a note of that... and of your... endeavors under the furniture." He looks back at the maid, still kneeling up on the chair, "Well I believe it! Redwall always had good food... I'm Turmal by the way, and I apologize for being somewhat anti-social before..."

Barkus looks a little confused at Martha apologises "What for?" another glance round to Turmal as the mouse speaks again "Barkus. Now go ask the kitchen for food and come sit down and eat it before I loose my glasses from constantly looking round" they are only balanced on his nose after all.

Turmal looks, still with a smile, between the two hedgehogs... not really knowing what is going on between them. He addresses Barkus, "Well, nice to meet you as well, Barkus, and I think I shall and leave you two for a moment to discuss... right. To discuss, things." He gets up energetically and walks at a fairly faster pace than usually along towards the kitchen, blade and various other objects clanging and making noise.

Turmal is walking around, while the others talk.

Barkus watches the mouse go with a raised brow before he looks back to Martha "Hm? Oh. I couldn't really think of anything to say...you're actually the first hedgehog I've seen since I left the family"

Martha blinks and watches the mouse clanging away to the kitchen. "Um, g'bye..." She offers to his retreating back. She smiles again, turning back to Barkus, looking a bit relieved. "Oh good, I was afraid I put you off somehow. Um, yes, we aren't very high in numbers... At least, not here..."

Turmal comes back before long, balancing three plates which he has loaded with various veggies and pieces of scone, something with blackberry and a quarter loaf of bread with some of the same cheese as the hedgemaid had picked up. The arrangement really looks like a mess on the plates, but he is seemingly content with it all. Still, to Barkus, "This is all I could manage for now, but thanks for the tip, friend." He sits and remarks between mouthfuls of bread and cheese, to Martha, "By the way, I saw two young mice through the window out in the kitchen garden... do you happen to know them? I must say, I am disoriented among all the strange faces around here... I have yet to meet anyone I remember."

Barkus pauses with soupy bread halfway to his mouth "You reckon somewhere there's an entire land made up of hedgehogs?" he muses before Turmal returns and he glances to the mouse once more "Oh 'ello, he's back again" and louder for Turmal to hear "Kitchen always has some food"

The hedgemaid considers it and offers a shrug. "Maybe... That might be why there aren't so many here? They're all somewhere else?" She sort of shakes her head slowly as the mouse asks "Um, I wouldn't know... There are quite a few mice here, Turmal..."

Turmal answers Martha, "Oh, I see... I thought maybe you had seen them when you were in the kitchen before..." He scoffs, "I remember there being more vermin here than mice when I was last at Redwall." He seems almost to go into that trance again, but resists just a moment to answer the other, "A place of hedgehogs? Of course! I've seen it, y'know... and I've been travelling a lot over the past seasons."

Barkus frowns at the mouse's mention of vermin "Just how long ago was this?" he seems to perk a bit at the idea of a hedgehog place though "Where? When even? I just thought we must be rare"

Martha shakes her head. "Um, no, but... I wasn't really looking out of windows while I was out there. Just lingered long enough to gather my food... More vermin than mice..? Um, I think there's some around, but I don't think they quite rival the mice yet..." She too, seems quite pleased by the hedgehog kingdom revelation; her idea about all the hedgehogs 'being somewhere else' seems to have gotten just a little more likely, at least, in her mind.

Turmal realizes he should be more realistic towards the hedgehogs, "Well... I mean I was there a very long time ago, but I remember more than a few families of hedgehogs calling the place home. It was very near Mapleleaf, where I used to live, back up in the North. We had even rescued one of the families from a fortress called Ruingate, savage place... and another escaped from the lizards that later plagued our town. I was even shot by one of those filthy crawling beasts." He shakes his head, "Anyway, they may have migrated elsewhere... I only remember the vicinity getting worse and worse with the infestations of vermin."

Barkus starts to look unhappy the moment he hears mention of Mapleleaf. Closing his eyes and growing more and more irritated with the mention of Ruingate and the lizards before his head finally hits the table with a dull thud. No harm done though he narrowly misses his soup bowl, he's just annoyed "My whole family was in Mapleleaf" he grinds out, starting to assume he might already know these hedgehogs and be related.

Martha shakes her head. "I used to hear stories about those places when I was little..." She remarks, before Barkus's reaction makes her stare at him a little. On a side note, at some point the hedgemaid finished her meal, though she doesn't remember finishing it.

Turmal nods, startled a little by the reaction of Barkus, "I'm sorry, may I ask what happened to them? I left some time before I heard most everybody else moved out... At the time, Matrim was the leader, but he was very sick and the lizards almost killed him." He looked over at Martha with a grave look, "I even had the pleasure of meeting Merdez, who planned to take over Mapleleaf. I recall he visited Redwall, and I happened to be here during his visit." Turmal scoffs again, "He was even more welcomed than I had been... it sickened me."

Turmal adds, "I suppose he was here recruiting all the vermin... you should be glad most of them obliged."

Barkus is purely just annoyed by probably already knowing the hedgehogs, a deep breath and he's sitting up again, replacing his glasses once more though he still looks angry, particularly at mention of Merdez "They're fine. We left during the attack, they're all in Halyard now. Merdez not only planned to take over Mapleleaf, he succeeded and burnt it to the ground. There is no Mapleleaf anymore"

Turmal is shocked. He gets up and walks over to the fireplace.

Martha decides to excuse herself quietly. The stories she's been told did not quite cover up to that point, and this is news to her... She has her own reasons for some upset, but keeps them to herself and pads towards the kitchen, to return the cup and plate. She doesn't re-enter the hall, apparently quitting to another part of the abbey from the kitchen.

Turmal sniffs, turns around "I suppose I should have known about Mapleleaf... it was on the way down even when I left. I almost went back, too..." He paws at the acorn around his neck, and has to move as part of his cloak singes near the fire. "Is Kevarr still here? I heard on the road that Josiah has been made abbot."

Turmal mutters, under his breath, "What kind of a monster would burn such a helpless town..."

Barkus is sadly a dramatic, grumpy, somewhat angry beast when this sort of thing comes up and his first thought is what right do they have to be upset? They weren't there! It's silly of course but Barkus is like that. He controls his temper in front of the other hedgehog, waiting a minute once she's out of the room before he stands with a scrape of the chair. It's only as Turmal speaks that he stops, not quite to the point of storming off "Nothing to go back to now" at the questions about various beasts of the abbey he turns his head back to the mouse "I don't know! Yes some mouse called Josiah is Abbot but I don't know any Kevarr" the last mutter does not help his already bad temper, he really is trying to control it though.

Turmal notices the restrained feelings on Barkus' face, "I am sorry about bringing up such a sensitive subject, friend... I had no idea that you already knew the answer to the question about the hedgehogs up North... I might as well throw this food out, I am no longer hungry." Despite this he does not move towards the heaped plates of food he now sees as a pitiful self-indulgence. He sighs and looks back at the tapestry. Why?

Barkus closes his eyes, breathing slowly, what he hopes is calmly "Don't bother. Some beast will be hungry or you'll feel like it later" hate to see food go to waste. He does manage to calm himself down a bit, finally picking up his stuff from the table, he seems to have missed the tapestry staring.

Turmal nods, "You are right, the greater indulgence is putting this all to waste." This makes him feel somewhat less selfish and he goes back to the food, picking at a piece of celery. "Are you taking your leave as well?"

Barkus glances down to his book, starting to head for the kitchen "I have work I should be doing" he's more likely to go be grumpy, either way, he's going to disappear into the cellars.

Turmal nods, "Nice meeting you, Barkus, albeit under the weight of the sad news... Good luck with your work." He paws at his scabbard.

RW Abbey: Kitchen

Turmal walks into the kitchen, fully expecting no one to be in there this late... he takes his three empty plates from his last meal in the direction of the scullery to clean them and hears a noise.

The noise is unlikely to be Layne, just returning from the kitchen gardens with a basket of wilted chives and too much sun. Her hat clutched in one paw, she idly fans herself as she shuffles listlessly into the room. There's been baking going on, and the kitchen is still scorching even hours later. Iron stoves and open hearths.

Turmal pauses to look around, and hasn't quite made conclusions about the phantom noise when he sees the darkly-furred mousemaid in front of him, coming in from the gardens. "Oh, hello... I didn't see you, I mean I saw you earlier out there, but I didn't think to say hello... just returning my food from earlier." He mentally cuffs himself for such useless gabbing. "Hi, I mean, I didn't mean to say all that."

Layne pauses in the door frame, weaving slightly. She blinks. "I... don't think an'one's returned food, before. Did you think they're going to, uh, reuse it?" She drops the basket on the counter, too worn out to even bother putting the herbs away for the moment. Looping the cord for her hat back around her neck, she lets it dangle at her back.

Turmal blinks and doesn't think about the error in his statement... "Er, Oh! Plates, just returning the plates... haha... did I say food? I mean I was going to throw it out, but I ended up eating it. Long story..." He notices her weariness, "Is there anything I can help you with?" He's only seen one black mouse before, and the fur of the mousemaid continues to captivate him.

Layne, were she alert enough to notice the extra attention, might well find it unnerving. She's never been comfortable with her looks. Nodding absently, she finally dumps the chives on the counter, and hangs the basket back on a hook. She seems to know where most of the kitchen things are, in spite of not having the traditional attire of a member of the order. "Yes, you ate food. How original a choice. Few would've thought of it..." her tone is fairly deadpan, which is usually a sign she's joking, though of course the mouse would hardly know that about her from a first meeting. She jerks a thumb over her shoulder at the scullery. "Plates'go in there. I'll wash th'm later."

Turmal almost forgets he still has the plates, and wonders why he is balancing them side-by-side. He stacks them up, and sets them down a minute. "I know it sounds stupid, but I thought I had lost my appetite, and it was over something very disturbing. I hope you understand..." He walks over and adjusts the acorn at the junction of his cloak, "Boy, it did get pretty hot in here... anyhows, I can wash my plates if it saves you time, I'm always used to doing it. You sure there's nothing I can do to speed up your chores?"

Layne smirks slightly. There's a pail of water close to the counter, and she dunks the chives in them a few times, perhaps trying to wake them up. They don't look any less wilted for now. "Don't hav' chores. I'm... uh... freel'nce." She seems amused at the thought, nodding towards the scullery. "If you /want/ to wash'em I'm not going to stop you... wash anything you'd like. Alway's gets hot in here when they bake. Usually try and escape to the cellar, maybe the orch'rds. Must be nice in the winter, though."

Turmal chuckles, "Freelance, hmmm? I don't suppose there are a whole lot of other places around to work in kitchens besides Redwall..." He leans against the counter adjacent to where the other mouse is busy at work, and tries to make idle conversation, "It is very nice in the winter, in fact it was winter when I was last here... Y'see, I'm a bit of a freelance too... I do art here and there, for whoever is willing to pay. Do they pay you here?"

Turmal adds, "Oh, Turmal by the way... Turmal freelancer extraordinare!"

Layne eyenarrows, suddenly looking a little peeved. "'m not kitch'n help. I just..." She rubs the back of her paw over her nose, and the irritation seems to give way to resignation. "...'kay, maybe I am. When I /want/ to be. Nobody pays me, but I'd rath'r not just eat their food and sleep in their beds without, y'know, doing something. Don't want to just be the houseguest who never leaves. Layne." She finishes off with her name, flatly, almost an afterthought. "Y'r parents didn't actually name you 'freelancer extraordinare', I hope?"

Turmal breaks into laughing at the last part of her comment, "No, no, but they might as well have... my surname is too literal for my liking..." He extends a paw, "Nice to meet you Layne, wonderful name, much better than mine." He thinks about the other things he said, "Sorry, didn't mean to imply you were a kitchen hand, just wondering what one would do as a freelance dishcleaner.. You're right to help out around here, but personally, I've never stayed long enough to be of any use to anybody, it seems."

Layne watches the paw for a second before taking it, a cautious shake. Her paw is still a little damp from the pail of water. Finding a knife, she starts to cut the dirty roots from the chives, though only just the ends. "Story of my life," she muffles, barely audible. "No use to an'body. Tire'd of it." She continues with the chives, letting the other mouse do much of the talking for now.

Turmal tilts his head at the mumble, smiling in a sort of intrigued way. He inches back slightly when the knive comes out, not wanting to tick the mousemaid off now. He plays with a button on his smock, "Yes... but it is nice to be in a place where you recognize everybody... just wish I was there right now. Unfortunately, there is no such place anymore." He pauses, looking down at the ground, "But that's past us, time to move on. What else do you do on the grounds besides all of this?"

Layne applies the knife liberally to the chives, not so much to Turmal. She's more inclined to throw hard objects, anyhow. :p She gestures vaguely out the way she came in. "Help out in the gard'ns, weed... pick things... demoralize the plants... keep track of things in the storerooms..." her eyes flick up for a moment, meeting the other mouse's. "Keep bees." She finishes the last of the chives, and wiping the knife on a dishrag, it goes back where it came from. She scrapes the rough ends of the roots off into a pail of rubbish.

Turmal's brow raises at the mention of bees, but he sees the pretty mouse's eyes for the first time and they completely lock for a fraction of a second, before he shys and looks away, "You must be incredibly brave to keep those big angry bees at bay... I myself am, er, allergic." He coughs while letting this embarrassing fact slip, but it really only draws more attention to his shame. "That's a lot of work for one small mouse, you're very productive and good at managing your time, I bet." He looks back at you, hoping and at the same time afraid to catch your gaze again.

Layne looks mildly uncomfortable at the references to her size, and 'small mouse' causes the insides of her ears to color very slightly. She steers the subject slightly, finding a bowl for the chives and putting a little water in the bottom of it to keep them fresh. Amphibious chives. "Most people who /think/ they're allergic to bees really aren't..." she shrugs a bit. "They're not angry. They just want some nice gardens and peace n' quiet. Can't say they're not smart." She doesn't add that she only does those things piecemeal, one at a time. She helps out when the people who are supposed to be doing those jobs get tied up or late.

Turmal nods, "It has been a while, I was only stung once, as a dibbun..." He listens as she pampers the chives and explains, "You seem to understand the bees a great deal. I wish somebody could help me understand the inner workings of vermin as much. Those are beasts I don't really get at all..." He maintains his gaze just long enough until it stops being comfortable, and looks at the chives, adjusting his cloak again.

Layne hasn't really noticed the fidgeting; she does plenty of it herself. "Verm'n as in... fleas n' cockroaches? Or you mean mean people who try'n stab you in the face?" She's unaware that the other mouse was apprehensive of her doing the very same thing a little while ago. Layne's not one of those people who always seem to need to be working, and with the chives shoved to one side, she leans against the counter and becomes an unlicensed layabout.

Turmal enjoys now being shown more attention than a pile of greens, and grins, even with the grim subject now on the table, "Vermin, of course, as in foxes, stoats, weasels, the like. They used to infest these walls, at least when I was here last." His expression turns sour, "Can't tell you how many times I had bad run-ins with the creatures... and how much they've ruined everything dear in my life. Dreadful..." He shifts his legs and puts the other in front, fixing his tail behind him.

Layne frowns slightly, and ticks off on her fingers as she lists... "Broth'r Sharpclaw, fox, Edgar, cat, Broth'r Sinway... Sister, uh... Sister Caina, ferret..." One eyebrow tilts, vanishing under her bangs. It reappears when she pushes the bangs back with her paw. "'Bout half the folks I've met since comin' here are... 'verm'n'? And so far the worst of the lot has been a /squirrel/." She tilts her head, hoping she won't have to point out the obvious to the other mouse.

Turmal brow raises again, "Would you be referring to Cassite? I don't know, I think I trust him more than any of the vermin here..." He sighs, "A while back, the leader of Ruingate, a murdering fox named Merdez, came here in search of /recruits/. What does that say to you? The place is infested, and all I remember when he came was how manipulative he was and how every vermin here was lenient and even benevolent towards the scumbag." He sighs loudly, clearly distressed in talking about all of this. "Anyway, I think there aren't a whole lot of creatures around here that get /me/, so I can't say that I blame you." Turmal seems to shrink where he stands, and lacks the upright posture he had before.

Layne hasn't met anyone names Cassite, and just shakes her head blankly at the name, her mouth working in a silent, 'no'. She thinks she 'gets' Turmal well enough. Doesn't think she cares for it, since from her view it doesn't look like much more than bigotry. Perhaps that's unfair of her, not knowing his history, and the fact that the worst she can say about any encounter with 'vermin' has been a mild fright. In any event none of the events he mentions show the slightest recognition on her features. Ruingate is a name she may never have heard before; Merdez definitely is. But hearing 'vermin' and 'infested' and 'scumbag' doesn't make for a good image, to her, at least at the moment, and when she peers up at Turmal from under her bangs it's with a touch of exasperation.

Turmal looks down ashamedly, nodding, "I know, I know how I sound... and I do judge them, perhaps unfairly... it's my greatest vice as a mouse, anybody can tell you that. I just don't know how to treat them with the same respect, in the experiences I've had, and even how to consider 'them' the same as anybody else. I don't expect you or anybody else to understand, and it's my problem. I have learned to keep it that way, and I haven't really caused any trouble since I've realized that." He looks up and finally catches the look in your eyes again, but it's exactly what he expected to see. He chuckles, "Look at you, tired as it is, and here I am frustrating you more. I suppose I haven't helped you at all, only impeded your work."

Layne shrugs slightly. "Well, I know the dishes 'r still unwashed. Though if you wait long enough the ants will take care of that." She wipes her hands on the dishrag, still looking uncomfortable at the other mouse's monologue. She's not going to pretend Brother Sharpclaw isn't disturbing, but that's only because he's as cheerful as Mary Poppins on a caffeine binge. And that's just not natural. Hardly cause to fear him attacking her, though.

Turmal turns around, "Ah, look at that, I forgot... what a pig I am. Perhaps I should take care of that and let you finish? Would you be busy after that? I'd like to bring our conversation out of all of this doom and gloom, if you'll give me a chance." He heads over to the opposite end of the kitchen to retrieve the plates.

Layne glances out the window. Not likely to be doing a lot of gardening at this late hour, and the bees will all be in their skep and as close to asleep as they ever get. She weighs conversation against finding some mindless kitchen activity to do until it's too dark to continue, and conversation wins. "Guess so." She's about to add a caution about breaking anything, but figures if he does at least she won't get blamed for it this time.

Turmal goes into the scullery for a time to wash the dishes, and although there is some clatter and splashing to be heard from outside, he comes back into the kitchen, paws wrinkled, grinning ear to ear. "Right, I'd like to get out of here soon... I may bake just as nicely with the bread!" He waits patiently for any more work you have to do, and inquires where may be a good place to resume the conversation?

Layne, as mentioned, is somewhat 'freelance'. Most of the time nobody assigns the work to her, she just asks what still has to be done and goes to do it. If there's nobody to ask, there's not much she usually does unless an idea occurs to her. As for another, cooler place, she headnods in the direction of the Cavern Hole, then begins that way, snagging a small farl of leftover bread to pick at on her way out of the kitchen.

Layne moves off into the Cavern Hole..

RW Abbey: Cavern Hole

Turmal gives an audible sigh of relief as the cool air hits his face; the two make their way to cavern hole and find someplace to sit. Turmal makes himself semi-comfortable, although he leans to talk, "This is muuuch better, this has got to be the coolest place in the entire abbey, aside from Martin's grave." He asks, "Have you ever been down there?"

Layne's eyebrows beetle, her expression frozen between incredulous and gnawing, as there's chunk of bread in her mouth. She bites off and hastily chews. "Numph... domph..." Swallowing, she tries again. "Uh, no, I don't gen'rally go touring around people's graves." She fixes him with a peculiar look, sidelong from under her bangs, as she draws her legs up onto the chair and curls a little.

Turmal ehs, and shrugs, "I'd sure like to see it... I heard that waaay back a very long time before anyone who's alive today was a dibbun, before their great grandfather's probably... somebody found it. Underneath the abbey somewhere, probably. I've heard a lot of things, but some say he's right underneath where we are now." He leans down and puts his ear to the floor, knocking on the stones, "Anybody down there? Hellooooo?"

Layne's peculiar look goes up a notch, watching him knocking on the stones and generally acting like your average streetcorner lunatic. "Uh. Even if there's a tomb down there, do you really want an answer?" She shakes her head. Oddly, his behavior is more worrying to her than the thought of a tomb, even given the legend that Martin's ghost is supposed to haunt the abbey.

Turmal chuckles, "Oh don't look so stiff... I'm just playing with the theory, I don't think Martin is buried anywhere near here... I heard another story that he died in the middle of winter up North. Nothing is consistent with anything else, it was such a long time ago." He sits back in the chair, and looks at the fireplace, being silent for a change. He takes off his hat and puts it on a small table next to the chair. Takes the cloak off, too, incredibly baggy and cumbersome thing.

Layne eyerolls, her tail stopping the relentless left, right, left, flicking that she was almost certainly unaware of. Her tail seldom does as it's told. "Just rather not go grave-robbing, if it's all the same to you." She eyes the cloak. She's always wanted an excuse to wear a cloak. Privately, she wonders if she can find one someplace before autumn, when the weather will (hopefully) start getting cooler. She slowly dissects the farl of bread, tugging out smaller bits of the softer insides and leaving the exoske-- uh, crust-- mostly alone for now.

Turmal notices her glancing over at the object, "Got this from a friend, a squirrel... hence the acorn in the middle. Another long story, good friend." He watches your peculiar behavior with the crust of the bread... "Turning that thing into quite the doughnut, aren't we?" He smirks and asks, "You gonna eat the crust of it?" He takes the sheath of the short sword out of his belt with a grunt lying it in plain view on the table between them.

Layne scowls good-naturedly at the other mouse. "'ventually. Can't eat it until 'm sure it's dead, now, can'I?" She doesn't give the sword much more than a glance-- she's not a member of the order, and she may not even be aware of the rule against weapons. If she is, she's not in charge of enforcing it. She's just mostly hoping he's done with disrobing, or she's going to have to flee the premises. :p

Turmal nods, "Understandable... but very cruel I must say... you'd be a much feared warlord where I'm from." He's not /quite/ done disrobing, though, and stretches out, kicking off his boots and relaxing his feet on another piece of furniture in front of the chair. "So where are you from originally? I've practically given you every clue about myself, time to reciprocate I'm thinking..."

Layne's gaze flicks up, peering out from under her bangs. Then it flicks away. "Wasn't 'ware conversation operated on a barter syst'm. Last place I lived for any length of time was call'd Woodhollow. Don't ask me where it was, 'cause I can't really tell you. Then one day I wander'd off, got lost in the woods, and bumped into the abbey." She won't add that she means the last part literally, and almost broke her nose. She crumbles a little of the bread, playing with it rather than eating it, and tries to change the subject again. "Get a lot of invad'ng baked goods where you're from, huh?"

Turmal listens with mock intensity, exaggerating each nod, "Bumped, you say? Must have been painful! The abbey has a great big wall, you must not have been wearing your glasses..." He bites his lip and apologizes, "Sorry, just trying to keep things light, y'know... I'm sorry you can't find your way back to where it was you came from, but places from the past have a way of popping up, and I would know." He chuckles at the thought of baked goods ravaging towns, "Nah, baked goods are still good for eating where I'm from, we don't usually fight our edibles... or make them into doughnuts." He looks up at her again, hoping for more eye contact, "I come from the lands west of here, along the ford, a place that used to be called Ferravale."

Layne nods absently, wondering if she somehow mumbled the part about hitting the abbey wall without realizing it. She's never heard of the place, and her expression shows it, as she finally gnaws at the crust a little as a means of covering what appears to be personal insecurity. Her eyes rarely make contact, mostly alternating between various spots on the floor, her lap, and sometimes the fireplace.

Turmal can see she is uncomfortable with something, but doesn't know what, "Oh, I'm sorry... was it something I said? I have an incredible way of being insensitive, it really is my fault. You look nice." This last part came right out of the blue, and he doesn't even know why he said it, and he fidgets a bit in his chair, not sure what explanation he can give for the impulsive statement other than, "I mean, you don't look clumsy, like you'd literally bump into Redwall or anything. That's what I meant. I think."

Layne looks up at that, a slight moue skewing her muzzle. "You need to pay bett'r attention. Almost tripped twice on the way in from the kitchen." She can, in fact, be startlingly clumsy at times, ironically when she's paying the most attention. When she lets herself relax she seems to move more naturally, though she's not what you'd call graceful. This is not a girl who 'floats'. The compliment about her looks-- if it was one-- gets a pass. She's not going to comment on that.

Turmal succeeds in saying the exact opposite of what she knows to be true, and he knows it too, "Well, we can all be clumsy, right? I trip on that old red wool thing on my back all the time, I really should get rid of it... anyway, you don't seem to be really relaxed, so I thought there must be something bothering you? I don't know, maybe I assumed too much." He reaches over and picks the cloak up by the acorn, running his paw over it. Stares into it.

Layne hunches her shoulders a little, finishing last of the crust. She stares at the crumbs on her paws before she dusts them against each other. "Just don't see any point in dwell'ng on the past, is all," she muffles, her voice dropping back to that skittery mumble. "Past is gone. I'm not /there/, I'm /here/. Doing new things." Her voice doesn't -quite- quaver, though it's thick with emotion. She swallows and continues in a stronger voice. "I like /here/, 'kay?"

Turmal instantly picks up on the hint of avoidance, and decides it better to leave the questions to ones in the present tense. "You know, we may have that in common... I'm always looking for new things, new faces... I just came back here because..." He trails and realizes he's asking himself, "I guess because I wanted to see /some/ old faces... but I've already found lots of new and interesting things, among the most interesting a girl who eats through the inside of her bread. And I wouldn't really have anything important to say to those I've known for a long time."

Layne sniffs a little, rubbing her nose with a paw. "Y'need to get out more often if my eating habits are the best thing you've seen since getting here. Old faces? Just the faces, or were you hoping to have, y'know, bodies attach'd to them?" She crosses her arms, no longer having to hold the bread, and assumes the sort of posture that generally only young women and boneless fish-filets can manage, looking like a small black-furred question mark.

Turmal asks, "Eh? Oh, yea, well faces /with/ bodies are preferable, of course. I don't know how distressed I'd be if I saw old Kevy's head without her body, though." He chuckles, "We had some fallings-out the last time I was here, she was a real pain to me." He looks over at you, as you shift position, and asks, "Hey, what's the most fun you've had around here? I need to forget my less-than-perfect history here and do something fun. Any celebrations, events coming up? I'd like to burst out of a cake and surprise everybody all at once!" He chuckles at the image, and most of all the groans from certain nameless abbey-dwellers."

Layne looks slightly blank. "Uh. Don't... um, be inside the cake when they're baking it." She slowly unkinks and stands. "Really don't know if they're planning anything... wasn't any celebration when they, uh... crowned the new abbot." She knows 'crowned' isn't really the proper word, but she's not really sure what is. "Think I should, shou'd head to bed now. Guess you know y'r way around the place." She starts for the stairs.

Turmal nods, "That's the only kink in the works, isn't it... I'll have to eat my way inside from the bottom!" He smiles and can't help looking as you wind yourself out of the chair and stand up. He makes sure when you finally look he is looking at the fireplace, then looks back at you, "Well, that was news to me, I'm hoping I can congratulate Josiah soon... hey, it was nice talking to you, I'm glad I met you today! I have a feeling there will be a lot of new faces in the next few days, all with bodies attached." He smiles and gets up, collecting his things.

Layne doesn't even recall if she's ever spoken to the abbot, and from her expression might well want to keep it that way. She nods and is already vanishing into the darkness of the stairwell as Turmal gathers his belongings.

Layne wanders off into the Great Hall..

RW Abbey: Western Ramparts

Turmal is up on the ramparts, leaning against the masonry and looking out across the western plain. The cool night air is blowing past in the opposite direction and Turmal finally has a chance to think to himself, but only for a short while... He secretly wishes something would happen, anything, that might call for him to take action and command his imaginary army to fight back. No such thing happens, and he continues staring out into the night.

Ahh, nighttime. Turner's favourite time. Seems he's in the mood for painting, as he's got an easel and canvas under one arm, the other paw holding an oil lantern, not yet lit. When he reaches the walltop, he raises an eyebrow slightly towards the other beast, not expecting another beast out at this time. The hare takes his time setting up the easel, slowly walking along the wall until he finds an ideal angle to look out over the plains. He sets the lantern on the stone at his feet, then sits down, breathing deeply. After another pause, he lights the lantern and stands up, leaning on a battlement and gazing out into the night.

Turmal bats an eye in the direction of the other late-night wanderer, and smiles as he sees the very familiar tools of an artist being set up right next to him! He finds this extremely coincidental, but doesn't say anything for the moment - he doesn't want to disturb the peace of the nighttime atmosphere, and a fellow artist is no doubt 'in the zone'. This picture of an artist with his easel brings a strong wave of nostalgia over the mouse and he sighs, a paw going to the bag at his side... tools which haven't seen the light of day in more than a few seasons.

Turner shuts his eyes, stepping behind the canvas and letting his paws slide across it, feeling every tiny indentation as they pass over it. It seems almost ritualistic, the way the beast goes about it. He continues this for a moment more, then removes his own tools from his bag, setting those carefully on the battlement to his front. After doing this, he looks out over the landscape for another several minutes, seeming to memorize every tree, every rock that is visible to him. 'Out late, are you?' He says quietly, his eyes staying fixed on the horizon now.

Turmal pretends he hasn't noticed the beast for a while already, and looks over quickly, "Oh, hello... Yes, just out here enjoying a view I haven't seen in forever... But trust me, I'd be doing exactly what you're doing right now, if I had an easel and a canvas." He keeps an elbow on the low part of the crenulated battlement, and turns his body to face the other artist, "Beautiful out there at this time, isn't it? Nothing moving except the trees." He's noticed the odd stature of the hare, but doesn't comment on this. "Have you been doing artwork for the abbey for long?"

Turner slowly shakes his head, looking at the other beast a first time. 'No, I haven't.' He says, the quiet words nearly getting lost in the soft sound of the nighttime breeze. His voice strengthens a bit, now clearly audible. 'I haven't been at the Abbey for long.' He pauses, letting a smile slowly paint itself across his face. 'But yes...' He sighs, filling his lungs with the cool air, 'It is quite beautiful.'

Turmal looks back out and plays back a scene from the past in his mind... creatures advancing, using the ditch for shelter as the arrows fly thick above the walls, stretcher-bearers taking away the bodies of the deceased... all this racing though the mind of the artist while in reality, nothing but crickets inhabit the near plains. He tries to enjoy the surrounding landscape, but these images keep coming back, and a loud sigh emits from the mouse as he rubs his eyes and yawns. "Well, I'm back after a lengthy leave of absence... we artists tend to wander around, don't you think? I can't remember the number of places I've been... lots of sacrificed friendships."

Turner lets his head bob slightly in a small nod, his gaze moving out across the plain, then up to the sliver of moon visible from behind a cloud. 'Aye... that is very true.' He sighs as well, remembering the many friendships /he/ has made... and lost. 'Now, I think...' He murmurs, voice barely audible again. 'I'd like to stay in this one place.' Another lengthy pause, his eyes going to the other beast once again. 'I don't want to say goodbye as soon as I've said hello.'

Turmal sits up and seems temporarily re-energized, but in fact he is getting ready to retire; he walks over, "I hate to embody that very point, but it looks like I'll have to be saying goodbye as soon as I've said hello. I won't leave you without my name, though, and that is Turmal. It's nice to know there are creatures at Redwall that I can relate to... before when I was here, that seemed all too rare. It was nice to meet you." He extends a paw and adds, "Good luck with your portrait, I should like to see it soon when it is completed."

Turner nods, taking the offered paw in his own and giving it one firm shake. 'I will give you my name as well, then. It is Turner.' Again, a smile flits onto the hare's features. 'I will remember yours, and be sure that I give you the chance to see the painting when it is completed.' He turns back to his empty canvas, finally picking up a brush and carefully examining the bristles, as a jeweler would inspect a gem to be sold. 'Good night, then, Turmal... May your dreams be pleasant.'

Turmal walks slowly, deliberately, down the stairs to the grounds below, "And yours, as well. Take care." He seems to cross the grounds slowly, not at all eager to relinquish the experience of the cool nighttime outside for the musty dorms inside. Still, so tired... He finally enters the abbey and disappears.