Owner	Pose
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan had been serious about offering for Desmond to move in. Maybe it was a little sudden...maybe she wasn't sure entirely what she'd gotten herself into, but the fact was he had ten years. Maybe eventually he'd get bored and go find someone else, until then, she was happy to share space and to see where things might go. Because while she'd had bad experiences the last few times when she tried to date, there wasn't a reason to swear it off completely. Maybe if this fell through she would. Morrigan had offered to help him move his things in if he wanted to move everything. She's made room for his things. Not just half a sock drawer, but there is goodly amounts for whatever clothing and belongings he has.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna appears at the end of the walk, carrying what looks like, of all things, an ancient oaken chest. The thing looks like it should be carried by a Keebler elf. It's green, edged with gold filigree, and secured with an ornate-looking lock made of brass and silver. Of note, there appears to be no iron used in this work of art's construction. Entering, he looks around the place again, as if for the first time, taking in his bearings and, perhaps, reflecting on the change of status of this space. Finally, his gaze shifts to Morrigan. "Well. Looks like I'm finally home."
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan had offered to port things if needed, but she was sure he wouldn't forget important things. The chest is looked at with a curious gaze, "Does that need to go up into the tower below the Widow's Walk or down into the lab to be secure?" she asks him. She doesn't ask what is in the chest. And she wasn't going to unless it started hissing or tried to eat Occam. "Home for the time being at least. You are free to leave if you wish in the future." she tells him with a soft smile. "I figure that you are going to keep your PI business and things." she points out.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna carries the probably very heavy chest with remarkable ease, even given his size and strength. It seems, frankly, lighter than it should be, even if it were empty. "This...? Oh!" He shakes his head. "This was my birthday present from Lady Aoife on the occasion of my 100th natal day." His thick, archaic lilt is in full force now. He sets the chest down with ease, and reaches around to his back, withdrawing a blade from a sheathe concealed in the small of his back. The vaguely rainbow-hued metal is unlike anything Morrigan has likely seen. He touches the foot-long weapon to the lock, and it unravels with a complex mechanical pattern of motions. The blade is slid away. "Now you know how to get into my stuff." He meets her eyes, and offers a brief, pleased smile. The lid is opened...and inside is something that makes little sense. The area inside the chest is roughly that of a large walk-in closet. It appears to be filled with the man's stuff. Clothes. There's what appears to be an honest-to-god /lute/ in there, and a mandolin. A silver flute. A target dummy. Various knickknacks.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan lofts one of her elegant brows when he says that it is a present from the woman who has it on contract. "So...how close are the two of you?" she asks him. "Is it like a bag of holding?" she asks as she looks at the space inside. "'m not sure how that works honestly. I'm sure I could make one." she ponders as she watches him. "Is there a kitchen sink in there?" she teases him gently. "I shouldn't be in your stuff...unless you go missing." she points out.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna nods, seemingly in complete seriousness. "Yes, love. Right there. Past the motorbike and the sturgeon." His tone is amused, a low drawl of humor. "Me and Lady Aoife?" He looks over. "I....was given to her before my first birthday. She educated me. Clothed me. Fed me. She was my mistress, my liege lord, and my first lover -- she took it as her right. I am her champion. I have been in her service for four centuries." His lilting recitation slows, then stops. "I barely know her. I couldn't tell you what she's thinking. It's much like being owned by a large, particularly vicious cat who happens to like you, or at least like to own pretty things." "And yes. I like boundaries, too. I will not enter anything you do not want me to enter." He looks to her, then, with a sparkling smirk.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan shakes her head at that, "I should have figured there was one in there." she chuckles to that. Though her face grows a bit more serious when he speaks on Aoife. "Well...I do seem to have a type." she states to that. Men that belonged to other things. "I don't want to know what she's thinking. I just wanted to see what your relationship was like. And whether she's going to try to run me through with something should she find out you're living here." she muses. "I've got the lab in the basement. It's where I go when I'm working, but I don't mind you being down there. Just...if you catch me drinking blood don't get too weird on me." she chuckles.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna shrugs to her. "Mo? I lived in the palace of a fairie warlord for four hundred years. I've seen far stranger sights." He sets the box down, stepping to her. A hand lays lightly on her arm. "The terms of my deal were clear. I am released from my service to her for the duration of the decade of parole. Though.....we can of course make side deals for things. She is Fae, after all." He considers. "I can introduce you, if you like."
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan gives a smile to him, "I mean, that's fair." she points out to him. "So basically whatever she says you have to do?" she asks him. "I figure that's the gist of it, but...it's better to know." she asks him. "I'm not making any deals." she muses to that. "No thank you. I don't need to meet her." she shakes her head to that.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna nods. "Then you are wise. The deals never favor mortals. The balance of the scales always tilts, however little or great, in the direction of the Fae." He considers his answer, very carefully. "We have the bond of vassal to lord. She has as many responsibilities to me as I to her. Yes, she can spend my life at her whim, but frankly? I am a good champion, and she is miserly. She will not waste me." He looks down, then, to her feet. "Yet I also hold the debt of a foolish woman. I do not know what the Lady Aoife's plan for her was. Death? Servitude?" He shrugs. "Maybe I can make some other deal or win some bet, or win a contest and take something of value to trade. My destiny is not truly writ. But even if it is? I did the right thing." He nods, once. "You don't like her. Why?"
Morrigan MacIntyre	"Well thankfully I'm not Mortal." Morrigan grins to that. "But still, I don't need any contracts. I've always been told stories to stay away from the Fae." she muses a bit softly. "So you two aren't sleeping together any more?" she asks him. "I'm sure you make a fantastic champion. She picked well in that." she nods to him. "Sadly I don't think we can go back and change the past on what you did for the woman. And obviously if Aoife still has her working then she got two for the price of one? I don't know." she admits. Then there is a quirk of an eyebrow at him, "I just don't want to meet the woman who can basically make you do anything she wants at a whim? I doubt we'd make great friends." she points out gently.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna blinks. "No. It was her right to take my virginity. It was simply the one time. I......was only 13. I do not think she was much impressed. And after, in formal events in the court, of course. There are expectations and duties. But those passed to her new consort, oh, 200 years ago." He head-tilts. "You.....understand, I am not...with her, yes?"
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan's face screws up a bit at the mention of it being a right. "Sounds like Prima Nocta in a way." she breathes out. "I shouldn't have asked. But my brain is just like 'here ask him these thousands of questions!'." she grumps at herself. "Oh well if she has a consort then that's good." she nods to this. His head-tilt makes her give him a soft smile, "I think that is what I was trying to find out and doing horribly at it. But if she said Desmond you have to sleep with me you couldn't refuse her, could you?" she asks him.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna's mouth opens at that. He clearly doesn't want the answer to be what it is, but he also doesn't seem like he's capable of saying anything other than what he says. "I....don't think she'd pus the issue. I'm not all that, you know." He smirks. "Have you seen the Fae? The are beautiful. I am like...a like of ugly clay, half-formed by an inept potter in comparison."
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan looks at him. It might feel like eternity, but it is just a moment. Deciding something it might be. She steps closer and reaches out to take one of Desmond's hands, "You are literally one of the most beautiful things that I've ever seen." she tells him. "Will you forgive me for the slight interregation and let me cook you dinner?" she asks him with a soft smile.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna's mouth opens, a retort seemingly half out before he can stop it. But stop it he does. He looks struck by her words. Truly. In that moment he looks moved, vulnerable, and a little rocked back on his heels. "You calling me beautiful is the swan calling the pelican graceful. But that is one of the warmest and nicest things anyone has ever said to me." He leans to her, arms going around her body. He pulls her to him, the embrace light and soft. "Yes. But afterwards? Let me take you to your bed. For dessert."