Roleplay: Lettie x Morgane x Rory x Spizzzo

Dated: September 17, 2026

The Watch Tower

Rory has returned to the watchtower like a stray dog wandering back to its initial haunt. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his brown coat, and he doesn't really look any worse for wear than previously. Maybe a bit more unshaven.

Spizzzo has cleaned up, and has some wet fabrics hanging on a crude branch-based drying rack near a low fire. He's quietly deboning a rat and adding the meat to a scavenged pot.

Rory 's face and posture show no disagreement. "What sort of herbs you find? I found a couple of blackberry bushes down by the water tower." He holds out his hands, which are only barely peppered with speckles of injury at this point. "That conjured stuff doesn't really taste like anything after awhile. Want a smoke?" He retrieves the beaten blue box of Mayfairs, which is still full of cigarettes.

Spizzzo smiles brightly to Rory, not getting up or shaking hands at this exact moment since he's been skinning and butchering rats for a while now, but makes firm eye contact. "Friend Rory! So good to see you again. On the contrary, nature has provided a bounty. Game meat, wild herbs, why that's a fine stew!" He finishes his current rat and hangs the pot from a tripod of stout branches by a broken length of chain, and stokes the fire beneath it.

Rory 's face and posture show no disagreement. "What sort of herbs you find? I found a couple of blackberry bushes down by the water tower." He holds out his hands, which are only barely peppered with speckles of injury at this point. "That conjured stuff doesn't really taste like anything after awhile. Want a smoke?" He retrieves the beaten blue box of Mayfairs, which is still full of cigarettes.

Spizzzo shrugs broadly, "Not sure. They tasted spicy and lightly peppery, and I neither died nor had major intestinal distress after ingesting them." The half-elf grins again and waves off the cigarettes, gesturing to the fire, "Quite enough smoke for me already. The firewood still isn't properly seasoned, but we use what we have. How are you doing? What would you be doing in Lahndahn now?"

Rory nods a little. "I guess both of those are real concerns now." He takes a seat on the floor on the opposite side of the pot from where Spizzzo is butchering rats. "You done this before? Were you some kind of meat-finding prodigy before you got here? If I tried that I'd just make a mess." The thought makes his stomach turn a little, all that cutting and pulling and blood, dear God, even of small things. "Ah, let's see." He looks down at his wrist, where there is a beat-up old watch on a scuffed leather band. The clock seems to be running backwards. "I'd probably be at work. I had a job as a custodian--that's one of the guys that cleans toilets and stuff, for the Guard of Magic, those are the government blokes that make sure no one uses their powers to blow up a city block or turn ordinary people into rats, stuff like that. Guess even wizards need their loos cleaned. Had another job in a grocery shop. So one of those."

Spizzzo goes back to whittling a long spoon from another branch, sitting beside the fire, waiting for his rat stew to come to a boil as he listens to the glorious tales of London. "I might have been! Spizzzo Spizzzoson: Rat Butcher. It's fun to speculate." He nods along with the story of blokes, wizards, custodians, and other mythical heroes of legend. He even recognizes most of those words, if not necessarily in that order. "Mmm, so you were a very important man. I can see why you'd be eager to go back."

Lettie caught the scent of something in the air that didn't quiet belong or wasn't here the last time she came wandering the new lands; rats stew. Her booted steps cautious tough the laces were still undone and flapping about as she walked. Clothes had been found, a pair of too big overalls whose legs were rolled up over her black sweater. Falling off a shoulder it exposed the long gash down her collarbone, cleaned up recently as was the bandaged wound about the palm of her right hand. The fuzzy lynx ears atop her head twitched hearing a voice she'd heard before Utitty man. She stopped near, curiosity winning as she watched them with mismatched eyes, not bothered that she appeared eavesdropping or stalking like.

Rory breathes in a bit through his nose. Maybe it's the smoke, but he looks sidelong at Lettie when she appears. "Heeey, not-Mildred. How's it going?" He doesn't correct Spizzzo; maybe where that guy comes from toilet cleaners perform a vital societal role. "Well I miss the indoor plumbing, and the rum. I've not found anything decent to drink around here."

Spizzzo follows Rory's gaze to Lettie, to whom he smiles and waves, featuring her closer to the fire. "Hello friend! How is your mother? I have some rat stew cooking, it will be ready soon!" As proof, he blows wood shavings off his spoon and stirs the stew pot.

Lettie wanders in closer at the invite from Spizzzo with a lopsided smile, returning the wave to him. A glance to Rory, "Am Mildred. Hi Rawrry. Hi Mister Spizzyo. Mom is alright, just in shock of being spitted out by the lake alone. How is you boths?"

Rory dismisses Lettie's assertion with a casual wave of his hand. "Bollocks." He pulls out a cigarette, lights it, takes a drag, and then offers one to Lettie. He might not buy that her name is Mildred, but if she says she's not a kid, who is he to question? Short people do exist, after all. "Want a light?" A moment of silence. "Found your mum, eh? That's good. Don't suppose mine is here too. That'd be some weird mum-child reunion thing."

Spizzzo quietly tends to the fire and nods. "I've been doing well, Mildred. I thought I'd start a fire here, if anyone else needed to dry off after coming out of the lake. Have a bite to eat. Hopefully someone can catch something better than rat soon."

Lettie takes a seat, not too close to either man. She shakes her head at Rory when he offers, "Those taste terrible." She'd tried them once and it went horribly. She looked then to the other with a smile, "I could try to shift and go for a hunt. Bring back something from the woods. Not sure mom would be as excited about that idea, but people need to eat, yeah?"

Rory offers Spizzzo a smoke too, should he like one, and then will either hand the mustached man a cigarette or put the box away. "I've got some biscuits." He lowers the bag down from his shoulder that contains what few possessiosn are visible, and retrieves a tin of biscuits, which are actually cookies. They're chocolate chip, and for every one he takes out, another one appears. "Not the best pairing with rat, but it'll do." He sets the tin down near the pot, so whoever wants one can have one. "You're not supposed to eat 'em," he adds idly to Lettie. Briefly he looks like he wants to say more, but keeps his trap shut.

Lettie says [to Rory] : Does your tongue not work? Can you not taste it when you suck it? Blaghk. Gross.

Rory says [to Lettie] : You get used to it. Does a lot for the nerves.

Rory says [to Lettie] : I was more of a...casual smoker before here.

Spizzzo watches Rory smoke and realizes what the sticks are for, smiling but still politely declines. He spoons out a bit of stew, blows on it, and has a taste. Smiling he offers another spoonful to the others. "Rat Stew, get it while it's rat." He looks to Lettie, accepting that she can shift and hunt with no follow-up questions. "Only if your mother says it's okay."

Lettie scrunches her freckled nose at Rory, "Chew on mint, it is better." She did accept the spoonful when it was offered her way and passed it back. "Not bad work, Spizzy." She smiled towards him as she shrugged, "I'm eightteen, just a bit on the clumsy prone? She just worries I'll come back missing a finger and need one sewn back on, again. That is all."

Rory takes a deeper drag of his cigarette and then exhales and views Spizzzo and Lettie through a faint haze of smoke. Eighteen. Shapeshifter. Loses body parts. He files those things away for later analysis. "Has anyone tried the lake yet? If we came through there, maybe some fish did too, or something to cook on besides that pot, or this." He reaches into the bag and retrieves a heavy, cast-iron skillet. The rest of this world might be a mess, but Granny's cookware is spotless.

Spizzzo says [to Rory] : I'm not a strong swimmer.

Rory says [to Spizzzo] : Me either. About drowned when I was twelve.

Lettie watches with wide eyes as Rory pulls a pan thingy out of his bag. Weird contraption that thing is and she eyes it warily. "I have not tried the lake again. I can swim better as a cat, but I don't really like the water in my fur. Hunting is easier."

Rory replaces the cast iron skillet back in the bag; he definitely scavenged that masterpiece from somewhere. "I might be able to transfigure something into a net, or rig up some sort of fishing rod. No hunting for me. I was a city lad."

Lettie says [to Rory] : What does transfigure mean? City lad?

Morgane 's emerald green, crushed velvet evening gown is sopping wet. Her black hair is damp too, clinging to her back and curling about her face in the mist as she trudges out of the Lake and toward the tower, her skirts held out of the mud with her hands. "Hello! Is anyone there?!" she cries out, as she approaches. Here's the thing, though, about Morgane spawning in the lake: ... so, she didn't. But you wouldn't know it from looking at her. Because she looks like a lone human woman who spawned in the Lake, just like everyone else. She certainly does not look or seem in any way like a faerie woman who existed in this land before everyone else's arrival. Oh no, not at all. And you wouldn't know such things unless she told you, which she wouldn't. No ... she is just a lone human woman who spawned in the Lake, seemingly a damsel in distress as it were. Look how wet she is from having spawned in the Lake, she must have half drowned. "Hello!" she shouts, releasing her skirts to wave an arm at everyone by the tower. "I just appeared in this ... this lake!"

Rory pulls out his wand, and is about to demonstrate what transfigure means when the sound of Morgane's voice reaches his ears. He makes no move to stand, no move at all really, but side-eyes the approaching person. "I lived in the city. Does your home world have those? Lots of people, roads, shops?" He is not going to be the first to call out to a stranger.

Lettie 's ears twitched atop her head at the sound of footfalls incoming. New ones, she'd not heard this stepping pattern before. Lifting her mismatched green-blue gaze up the werelynx looked at soaking wet lost human woman. No reason not to believe she just spawned in the lake with how soaked she looked, though a little less frantic than some upon arriving. Tilting her head to the side, tri-colored locks falling partly into her face, she studied her from soaked hair to the way carried her damp skirts up and out of the mud. "Another? Seems the lake has a most upset stomach. Keeps barfing out various people onto the shore. Have sits by fire? Not sure if one can catch them coldbugs in this place."

Morgane continues to bridge the distance between the lakeshore of her 'appearance' and the watchtower, and in so doing feels a wee little thrill inside her wee little fae heart. Oh, she is going to have so much fun with these newcomers. On the outside, though, she looks breathless and pale. "What is this place?" she asks, drawing up by the fire and hugging her body to warm herself. "Thank you," she says earnestly to Lettie, as if the young woman had just saved her life. This is an Oscar winning performance. And Morgane is an old hand at playing this particular role. It's her favorite. "I think I almost drowned, but the most curious thing ... I don't remember coming here, I don't remember anything." She glances to the others gathered here, who do not look in the slightest surprised by her appearance, as if it had happened before. "My name is Morgane, that's all I remember..."

Lettie watches Morgane with a curious look as she continues to come to sit down by the fire Spizzzo had made to cook the rat stew. Something doesn't seem right yet the cat cannot place exactly what it is. "I am not sure, not Purgatory says Dad. There is dancing letters that flip-flop the same here and there if you explore the once town. I would wager that is the name of the place." She cannot read, that has not changed for the young adult werelynx. A brow raises, skeptical on the almost drowning part, she doesn't look exactly coming to them in that much kind of distress. She does however offer over a hand that is wrapped in bandages around the palm, "Mildred, pleasure to meet you Morgane." She still kept her name to herself, going with the one that she'd given Rory when meeting him. Her father said names were special things, holding meaning to them and not everyone uses them properly. She didn't know if that worked the same way in the new world, best to play it safe. See, dad two or was it three, the lynx child of yours can operate with some self preservation.

Rory plucks a cookie from the tin and shoves it into his mouth after passing the lit cigarette into his hand. Morgane in a lake hadn't he read that in a book somewhere? His recollection of that exact work of literature is blurry at best. He tries not to think about it very hard; this place is a head trip already. He should say something. It's rude not to try and comfort a distressed woman isn't it especially one as pretty as that. But his ass is glued to the ground. "Well we have cigarettes biscuits and rat stew if you'd like any."

Morgane is wringing lake water out of her gown and stares with confusion as Lettie offers her a bandaged hand. She doesn't take it, although it doesn't appear that it's an intentional snub, more a confusion of culture. "Nice to meet you, Mildred," she says, and bends in a curtsy to both of them. "And thank you," she says to Rory. "Nice to meet you as well, Sir...?" She resumes squeezing water out of her dress. "Might I trouble you for a cigarette? I would very much like one, all things considered, I believe what's happened to me, which I still don't quite know, qualifies as a bad day."

Rory mostly keeps mum. He offers Morgane a cigarette. As soon as it is out of the box, another one replaces it inside. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Lettie slowly took her hand back as the woman the woman offered her a curtsy instead. She was one of those folk types, perhaps that explained the slight unease the lynx had from her. Too many strangers popping out of the water from various places unknown. Stranger danger and all that, though she ignored the tingle of internal warning. She seemed nice enough, polite enough, just fresh out of the lake enough. "Rory, does your Eagleland people do the waisty bends greeting?" She asked of the other, trying to help the poor lake woman out with finding her place of before here. "I think we all have recently undergone some bad days. Spitted outta a lake and nearly water-deathed counts as a not good day."

Spizzzo quietly tends his fire and stirs his pot of rat stew. Rat Stew: It's Better Than Nothing! He smiles a warm and welcoming smile toward Morgane at her appearance, and has never believed anyone as completely as he believes that she has recently emerged from the lake. "Miss Morgane!" He bellows a jovial greeting, throwing his arms wide to encompass all of the vast amenities he has to offer. Rat Stew. A Smoky Fire. Some Branches that can hold clothes to dry. "Please, warm yourself! I am Spizzzo Spizzzoson, and I am delighted to offer you what hospitality I am able. Would you care for rat stew? The rats are fresh."

Morgane for the record had curtsied to Spizzzo as well. In the meantime, however, she accepts the cigarette from Rory with a certain amount of marvel, finding it a sleeker smoke than the rollups she's used to. Again, that little fae thrill races through her body. Newcomers always bring such funny little treats. She bends close to the fire to catch a light and then inhales with great pleasure. "Oh, that's just beautiful," she says, to no one in particular before addressing Rory, "Thank you." She politely inclines her head to the negative when offered rat soup from Spizzzo. "My nerves won't let me eat, I ..." she bites her lip. "I'm afraid I'm also having a hard time accepting that I'm in a place where I eat rat stew, I suppose, although it's embarrassing to admit I still don't know who I am, besides just Morgane, a woman who appeared in the lake."

Rory has a more difficult time than Lettie ignoring that instinctual unease. There is this prickling behind his eyes that won't go away; the smell of lake water and cigarette smoke and rat viscera. It's areal shame these instincts pop in now, and not when he's smashed out of his mind at a party and about to do something very stupid, like jump into a lake. "Yeah." Lettie's voice breaks him from that momentary thought. "We shake hands in England. Our languages don't seem so different either. Everyone's speaking English, just...some of us more rightly than others."

Rory says [to Morgane] : Try a biscuit. Chocolate chip.

Morgane pats her head where Lettie's ears are and does, indeed, take a biscuit. She will eat a cookie and have a cigarette, thank you. "You aren't a human," she marvels to Lettie, as if this were blowing her mind. (It's not, but Morgane is a beautiful liar.)

Spizzzo snaps his fingers and points from Morgane to Lettie, "I knew there was something about the ears."

Lettie went crossed eyed a moment as she tried to look up at her auburn lynx ears atop her noggin as Morgane made the comment about her not being human. She cannot see them, but she knows they are there. A hand lifts up to scratch behind one of the ears, "I am not human. I am a lynx shifter," she added quietly. Lowering her hand back down to her lap the the werelynx allowed her partly shifted feline ears to fade away, replaced by almost human looking ears that had just a slight taper to them, almost fae like or short ear elf. In that moment, her eyes also changed colors two a matching set of pretty blue eyes. She could pull off that normal look, "Does that make you more comfortable?" She asked of Morgane, having mistaken the call out as discomfort. She glanced to Rory then, "I don't comes from people that do the waisty bend greets. The shake hands, yeah. Or well, I don't remember any waistybenders. Were I come from we call it common tongue. Never heard of this English stuff."

Morgane watches as Lettie's ears change before her very eyes. "Amazing, I could never have imagined such things," she says, and this time it's not a lie, although you probably couldn't clock it if it were. Faerie things. Newcomers: always making Morgane so wiggly! "Thank you," she says to Lettie, blowing smoke away from everyone. Her brow furrows as she grasps the meaning of what Lettie is saying, about curtseying and shaking hands. "I apologize if I offended you earlier, with my greeting. As you guessed, we curtsy in my culture." A small pause here. "I feel as if it was very unsurprising to you that I appeared from the lake."

Spizzzo clocks additional information, sorting it into his mental files, and continues smiling brightly. "Miss Morgane, it appears you and I are so far the only ones I've met who don't remember their lives before the lake." He stirs the rat stew with his freshly whittled wooden spoon, and has another sip.

Rory continues through a mouthful of cookie. "I remember mine just fine. Maybe not the night before I arrived, but the ressht. Just fine." More eating.

Lettie rubs the top of her head. It feels so weird without her ears there, but she didn't wish to make the new lady feel uncomfortable around a cat person. Head tilted, "Not offended any. Was trying to help you. See if you are from Eagleland with Rawrry there or perhaps from lands of Mildred. Not enough known on Mister Spizzy to determine if maybe you come from his world. Perhaps, the no memories you both have does mean you came from same place though." She offered a lopsided smile. Not much help it seems, no answers solved. "No, it seems the lake is the common landing zone. If you said you came from the spot with the shiny ground bumps, that would be surprising.

Spizzzo asks [to Lettie] : Shiny ground bumps? The iron dragon's tracks?

Morgane is an elegant smoker, lifting a slim plume to the skies. Her brow is furrowed and she looks pensive, like she is processing a lot. Worlds. They have all collided. Her mind should be blown. (But it is not, as you all know. Morgane is an excellent faker.) "Oh ..." she murmurs, and slowly lowers herself to sit on some large boulders that had fallen from the tower. She looks troubled, and like she might burst into tears. (She is not troubled, and any tears ... would be crocodile tears.) "I don't know where I am, or who I am ..."

Rory says: Train tracks. They're for trains.

Spizzzo says [to Rory] : Big long thing made of metal spouting smoke and roaring down the trail it's laid?

Lettie gets up and very slowly moves over towards Morgane who looks as if she might burst crying. Her bandaged hand reaching out to gentle pat her shoulder if allowed, "Hey, it is okay, no need to have a face water session. Surely, you will remember in time. You know yous name at least. That is a good start."

Lettie says [to Spizzzo] : I haven't a clue, never seen anything like them before. Bumps in the ground that are shiny and go for ways and ways off into the distance.

Morgane reaches to touch Lettie's hand with her own, allowing herself to receive this comfort that she doesn't need at all. No doubt about it, the fae is privately relishing her role here. She sniffs and covers her mouth to choke back a sob as Lettie tells her that she will remember it all in time. Oh, thinks Morgane, this time, is going to be a good time.

Spizzzo reaches over to pat Morgane on the shoulder. Two light pats. "There, there." That should solve it. He smiles again and dries off his stew spoon on his pants. "We're all here together, and that's what matters. Good company and reliable friends can see you through any hardship. As far as I can remember." With a memory stretching nearly, what, four days by now, that's saying something. He quietly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small tin of Dapper Donovan's Moustache Wax: For The Distinguished Gent, and warms just a dab between his fingers. He applies it to the ends of his stache, twirling the tips up around his fingers. Then, with a clever realization, warms some more oil to seal his wooden spoon.

Rory says [to Spizzzo] : Yeah, that's right!

Spizzzo says [to Rory] : So a train is a type of dragon.

Morgane offers Spizzzo a rueful smile, one that says: I am but a tender flower at the mercy of the world here, only you understand my plight, we are both marooned from ourselves.

Rory says [to Spizzzo] : No, dragons are alive. A train is a type of machine.

Spizzzo says [to Rory] : Like a spoon, or an orrery?

Lettie standing close enough now that she had given gentle comforting pats to Morgane can smell her and she stinks, to the nose of the lynx. Most likely it is the fact she is covered in lake water that they all came from and not because she is something new for her lynx nose. She doesn't say anything, that would be rude when she has no other choice yet but to stink of the lake she appeared in. Another comforting pat, "Oh, no, no face waters. Please don't shed eyeball rains. You are alright."

Rory is starting to look a bit starey-eyed. "No no, not like a spoon. So..." He looks at Not-Mildred, because she seems to remember the most. "They have wagons and stuff pulled by animals in your land, right? Box on wheels, horse or ox or dog or dragon to pull it?"

Morgane cries, very beautifully and silently at first, and then in a manner so ugly that she hides her face in her skirts. When no one can see, she secretly smiles.

Rory shifts his weight away from Morgane, increasingly uncomfortable with the woman's distress, and focuses on the explanation at hand.

Spizzzo murmurs quietly as he oils his spoon, but doesn't intrude again on Morgane's personal space, "Oh, Miss, all will be well. New things are just an opportunity for fresh adventure, and with true friends at your side you can never be too lost."

Lettie looks to Rory and nods, "Horses and wagons, yeah. I've seen those before. Ridden in one and it was scary as heck." She paused, now that woman from the lake was truly crying. Her face a mess of eyeball rains all down her cheeks. Silent then into the sob sounds that made her pull her hand back. What her her mom do? The lynx isn't about to wipe them away after licking her thumb, nope. A hmpt noise followed by the subtle cracking and popping of bones as she let herself meld into a shift from two legged woman to feline. Except, it wasn't quiet right. The feline was lynx shaped but her fur was black, misting around her like wisps of shadows. Ah, she couldn't see her wrongness though. The now shadow-lynx moving to bump her head against the Morgane for pets. Surely, petting an adorable feline would make her stop crying.

Rory nods to Not-Mildred. "Right, so a train is a sort of evolution of that. People built this thing called an engine, and when it burns fuel, it powers a different sort of box on wheels to be driven very quickly down a set of tracks. The smoke is the fuel burning." He shuts his eyes against the cracking and popping of bone, and opens them to see the shadow creature. She looks like something out of a bestiary. Egads.

Spizzzo says [to Rory] : So it is a tool that can do a task more efficiently than manual labor. Essentially the same principle as a spoon.

Morgane finds her hand nudged so gently by something furry, and the woman peeks out from her skirts to see that Lettie has shifted into a large cat. Morgane's face is pink from crying, but on the inside she is all delight. "Oh," she swallows a sob and strokes the beautiful cat before her. "What is this place," she murmurs, sniffing to carefully contain her tears. She wiggles her finger under the cat's chin. "Mildred, you have comforted me," she says to the creature. "Thank you. I will remember this." She sniffs again, steadying her demeanor. "I must lie down and rest I think, or see a doctor," she says to the group, with the helpless look of someone who knows she is just asking for things that aren't really possible in the way that they were before. "Perhaps I will go forage for something else to eat. Perhaps, doing that, will cause me to wake up." She looks tearfully at Lettie, whose chin she is still scratching. "From this place."

Rory looks a Spizzzo. "I guess?" he chances another side long look at Morgane now that she has finished crying. "Be careful out there."

Spizzzo says [to Morgane] : The fire will be here if your initial plan is unsuccessful.

Lettie nuzzles her fuzzy shadow fur covered head into the hand of the woman before allowing her to scratch under her chin. She cannot help the very faint rumbles of a tiny purr that starts up, tail swaying behind her. The look the feline gives it skeptical that she will find a doctor, though there is places one can find to rest if she ventured far enough towards the village. Leaning up the lynx creature attempts to lick away the tears before she could depart. All comforted and no longer crying, won't her momma be so proud of her. She'd reply something if she could so it is just a oddly high pitched meow like noise that Morgane gets from the large cat.

Morgane allows the cat to lick the salty tears from her face. "You are a dear," she says to Mildred, before gently rising, her shoes making a squish sound in the process. "I am heading into the village over there," she announces to everyone, and then she does.

Rory slumps forward somewhat, puts his cigarette out and has another cookie. His player has to go so he will sit there for a while lost in thought.

Lettie looks to both men, those strange feline eyes surrounded by dancing shadow made furs. A flick of the tail in a wave before the feline bolts off.

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