Anna Weatherhill

Finally – Light, finally – spring is here. The weather, while not Westfall warm, is tolerable. The sun is out, the streets are cleared, and that pest of a winter spirit is gone. Thank fuck for that, Lawrence thinks as he wanders down the streets of the Nexus with Tamminy at his side and a dirty little pig pokémon scuttling ahead of him.

This part of town isn't an overly-foreign urban hellscape like the inner parts, but modeled after a pleasant countryside that he would describe as Goldshire-esque. Shallow little hills, cobblestone paths and stone cottages to match, blooming flower baskets hanging from windows, and pleasant townsfolk caring for all of it. So what if the people who live here look vaguely demonic? They're harmless, he's pretty sure, so might as well let them be. It's their village, after all.

His strides are small while Tamminy walks beside him, but she's still taking two steps for every one of his. She stands on his right, as if she were tall enough to obscure the fact that Lawrence's arm abruptly ends at the elbow as a red and aggravated stump with parts of his mechanical arm's damaged dock still clinging to his flesh.

But while Tamminy and Lawrence enjoy their relatively slow pace, Lil' Buddy the swinub is antsy to run. He hurries ahead of them on tick-a-tacking little hooves, turns, grunts, runs back, and repeats the process over and over. He's full of energy, people, can't you tell? He wants to play! He wants to run! So hurry up!

Certain things have changed on Naugus’ grounds since the last time Viatorus paid the Ixis a visit. A few structures have been built in the chao garden to give them refuge from the cold during the winter, wooden lean-tos and tiny mock homes complete with mini doors and chao-height windows with tiny shutters to close them. The largest body of water has been made safer with a low bridge to cross it. And now that spring is arriving and the ground is warming slightly it seems that a few furrows of ground have been prepared for later planting. In fact, all around the castle the ground has been disturbed or cordoned off with low fences to mark future sites of gardens to be.

And of course the greatest change of all must be the dozen Overlanders taking up residence on the grounds. Each of them is busy, not paying mind to the time or to the inevitability of guests arriving but working on their future gardens or mending clothes or ensuring the stability of the chao homes. Each of them is dressed in plain beiges, browns, and reds, and they all look like they’ve stepped directly out of the 1930s with their suspenders and cabbie hats, though their overly-thick gloves and heavy boots should be familiar to Isidor as Azerothian vogue. Evidently they live inside the tower, as no human structures have been built for them to stay, though they have added a few comforts for themselves. The most obvious is a massive, U-shaped outdoor benched table designed to comfortably sit the entire family and potential friends. And right now, that table has been set for a meal.

It seems all the dishes and utensils are made of the green crystals Naugus is known to conjure, which makes the whole affair of eating at an oversized park bench uncharacteristically classy. No food is set out yet, but someone is already sitting at the table. Someone perhaps not quite human. She can’t be more than three feet tall, though her seat on the bench has been specially designed to rise her up to a comfortable level. Her arms are long, her legs short, and her head, with its pixie cut, naturally pink hair, is disproportionally large compared to her body. Frankly, she’s got the proportions of a human baby with the face of a woman in her thirties. Isidor might recognize her as a gnome, and like any good gnome she’s busying herself with a stack of schematics and calculations spread across her plate (and the neighboring ones as well.) Now and then she looks up from her writing to check the path to the tower in hopes of catching sight of the promised guests.

When she finally sees them she hurries to weigh her papers down with her plate. She leaves the bench in a hurry and scuttles over to them before they get too far onto the property. Rather than extend a hand for a shake or even bother to greet them she puts one hand on her hip and holds the other palm up to stop them.

“Before you two sit down, listen: Harrowheart isn’t going to be here. He stopped by earlier to say they’re extending his shift in Acherus, so he’s out there…” she waves her hand and flippantly guesses, “Eating souls? I thought it was only right to tell you before they noticed you, in the event you wanted to leave. Which I hope you don’t, if I might be so bold? Some of them really want to meet you. Especially Odilia, and I hate disappointing her.”