PM to join [Ornery Orphanage] Gone where?

[Kahll]

OOCI skipped stamping the thread, since it makes no difference to me at this point, so you go ahead and pick out a stamp that suits you. We'll readjust later if the need arises. The Sight was turbulent. It would not always show you what you were looking for. Even when it did, you would not always understand the part shown. Over the years, Kahll grew accustomed to the feeling of general confusion that came from divining the past. It was no longer frustrating for the most part, but the aimlessness remained. It was hard to find purpose in these things, but he kept trying. Sometimes you would see a man you well liked having done a very bad thing in the past. Other times, you would find something comparably adorable in the darkest of individuals. Then there were times when you learned something entirely inconsequential. This time however, the memory he saw belonged to M’alla. This prompted an unhealthy interest in the images shown. She was conversing with a very old woman that Kahll did not personally know. There were children loitering around the edge of his vision, afraid of something. These small ones kept fidgeting back at any real movement from the old figure. They looked a bit depressing to him, but it was hard to pinpoint why exactly. He could not gather any real information from the vision. They spoke about mundane things, as if they were acquainted, but none of it had any real substance. After a few more lines, the Konti bid her farewell and left the room. Once outside, he could easily pick out that the memory itself had happened in Alvadas. He knew the city well enough to tell it at a glance. As she was leaving, M’alla turned back to wave at the old crone, and that is when Kahll finally realized what he was seeing. It was the city’s orphanage. It took him a few days to balance his work duties enough so that he could make a relaxed visit during the day. Time was not much of a concept in Alvadas, but he still figured people slept, so he did his best to arrive before nightfall. As he searched for the building, he felt Alvadas guiding his steps. It was almost as if he had already been there, and his feet knew the way even if his mind had forgotten it. Soon enough, he found himself staring at the ugly building. He noticed that it was not exactly the same as it had once been, but was instead a much larger venue. Apparently, the need to house the growing orphan population of Alvadas had sprung a few more addendum structures. As he neared the heavy gate, he wondered what he would say if someone asked him about why he came. His lips pursed as he knocked on iron and hoped that whoever opened it was not as sullen as the woman from his vision was.

[Lrel]

Cosimia loved the children, and would have stayed all hours at the orphanage had she been allowed. She loved folding laundry alongside the little ones, guiding their hands when they didn't know how to do it. She wanted to cook for them every day, and watch their faces light up when she gave them good food, and their eyes dance when she patted their shoulders. Most of all, she wished she could tuck each one in at night, and softly kiss their foreheads with the reassurance that they would be together in the morning.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Holt hadn't permitted her to put the children down for sleep since the "storytime" incident.

But tonight, when her employer grumbled something about dinner and hobbled upstairs, Cosimia felt she had been given a second chance. She scurried to the kitchen, throwing together all that she could round up- a loaf of bread, some hard cheese, and a hunk of meat that had long ago fallen off the bone. She had no spices (too expensive) and no good tools (unnecessary), but she was ready to give it her best shot.

She had melted the cheese with some water in a pot over the hearth and had just begun to tear the meat to be added to the soup when she heard the knock at the gate. Cosimia paused in her work, listening intently for the sounds of harsh, staggering footsteps going to the front door, but heard nothing. There was only the soft murmuring of the children as they worked.

Knowing that Mrs. Holt would have her hide if a guest was missed, Cosimia moved the pot away from the fire, dusted off her hands, and moved to answer the knock.

She opened the great gothic door cautiously, peering out as if she were spying on the guest. The man outside seemed tall, though upon consideration she deemed him not tall, but stately. He stood straight, proud, his lips pursed and eyes dark. He wore a sparkle in his features though, and the faint wrinkles from smiling betrayed his friendly demeanor.

Once he had been deemed safe enough, Cosimia opened the door fully and grinned, tossing her strawberry-blond hair over her shoulder.

"Welcome to the Ornery Orphanage!" She chirped. Her fingers found the moon-shaped pendant hanging around her neck and fiddled with it habitually.

"May I help you? Or are you here for an appointment with Mrs. Holt?"

[Kahll]

OOCI just figured out that I forgot to put in height and weight for my character, so I just went with my country’s average height. That should be around 6’1’’. This also happens to fit with the actor IRL, so that is awesome. It was not a long wait before the door opened. He was stuck mid thought as they did, and could not fully contain his surprise at seeing a much younger woman than the crone that he remembered running the orphanage all those years ago. This was not the woman of his vision, but maybe that was not a bad thing. He had no idea what to tell this Mrs. Holt, but perhaps this one would be more pliable to his charm. It would be nice to try to see what M’alla saw in this place. She seemed content in the vision, almost happily conversing with the grandma looking creature. His mind puzzled together what it could “Thank you… I don’t believe I know your name” He gave off his best smile as he tapped his chest slowly “I’m Kahll, and I feel welcome already” he would look in her direction and try to take her measure. She seemed pretty. People like her usually wilted in places like these, unhappy places. It was interesting to see her still running. This meant one of two things for Kahll – she was very new to her position, or she was resilient. Both would prove interesting, but novelty would probably prove less useful. “My stepmother used to volunteer” he gestured to the building she was sticking out of “It was much smaller then though” then he slapped his hands together enthusiastically and pushed his idea “I was wondering if I could continue in her footsteps somehow? I know it might seem like a strange request, but over the years, we’ve lost contact. She’s all the way in Riverfall now, and this feels like one of the last pieces of her I have left around” it might have been true for all he knew, so making himself believe was not too much of a stretch. The thought tasted convincing in his mouth and therefore it was convincing. “I hope you understand” he looked at her hopefully. It was not as if he was pursuing a lead anywhere in particular so he restrained himself from investing into this notion further. He simply enjoyed the thought of seeing where M’alla used to dwell all those years ago and trying to see a reason behind it. Kahll hoped the woman before him was a sentimental mush; it would make it much easier for her to relate to his words. As he waited, he focused his thoughts on work projects, steadying himself fully.