IC - Village of Limm

From behind the Guardians, Danill clears his throat and positions himself to be seen. Relief, slightly, in his voice. "G'morrow Ciara. It's me, Danill. They have your harp, but I led them here. To you. To return your harp and ensure you were safe. I wanted to make sure you're safe. And give you your harp. They'll give you you're harp, but I'll make sure you're safe."

He smiles, his missing teeth conspicuous.

"Your harp and sad tidings, I'm afraid," Quintus Quail amends. "Miss, it pains me to tell you that young Tiyem of Limm has passed. We found him, or rather, what remained of him..." The bearded man pauses as he imagines, with a grimace, the cavity and the mess where the bulk of Tiyem's innards had been. "Mm. I mean to say that we recovered your instrument nearby."

So saying, he pays close attention to the maid's reaction. Is she surprised? Dismayed? Trying to appear so, one or both?

Danill shoots Quintus a glare that could drive nails--inconspicuously.

Sad tidings my ass... he thinks.

"We hoped you could tell us, Miss Ciara. Might we come inside?" Damir manages a friendly look without completely forgoing the authority that comes with his profession. "Let's talk in private. The need for answers just cannot be denied." He includes Quintus and himself in this. Ciara, he reckons, will speak more openly to outsiders than lovesick new residents.

Danill opens his mouth to interject, to force his way into the cottage as well, but closes it and looks on grim.

"No harm will come to you, while you're in our care." Damir calms the girl with a soft, but confident voice.
He lends her some of his strength by looking at the young woman with kindness and waits for her to settle down a bit.

Then he continues:

"Anything you can report,
anything you have seen,
anything you have perceived otherwise - a feeling, a smell - however small
can help us protect you and yours from whatever's out there."

Damir lets her consider his words.

Outside the cottage, Danill looks down the lane and sees no one. He quickly creeps to the cottages shuttered window, his lanky frame bent low.

He rests his back against the river-rock wall and strains to eavesdrop on the conversation inside.

Damir nods. "Understandable. Have you been at this spot before - at night? Did you meet the young man in secret? Did anybody else use the site? The man waits for her answer, then asks whether she knows of any predators around - human or otherwise, who might have had reason to single out Tiyem or herself. Damir also asks, why she did not tell anyone about what had happened when she returned.

The Guardian looks at Quintus. Does he have any questions that need to be asked?

Quintus glances at Damir, raises his eyebrows, then returns his attention to the village girl and avidly awaits her reply. All good questions! Particularly the one about her disinclination to report Tiyem's death in Limm. Perhaps the two of them meant to play at more than music beside the forest pool.

With a bag of mirror-wolf pelts in the bag, Ognimir makes his way to the village. Those bites on Maple do not look too serious, yet-- but he best get them taken care of.

He heads to the village with an eye for the stables-- and someone with more animal husbandry than an old warf-rat like himself.

Danill's scowl deepens from what he hears while eavesdropping on the conversation. Nice?! I was all an act!, he thinks.

Quintus Quail's blue eyes darken with sympathy to the hue of sapphires.

"We would never presume to meddle in the affairs of a young lady's heart," he assures Ciara. "Although I will simply say that while young men are often sweet, they are seldom sweet for long, while fathers..."

Quintus breaks off as a thought strikes him with sufficient force to stiffen him in his seat. He glances at the cottage door, then back at the girl once more.

"If we may ask, miss, and without entering upon any private details... have you had, let us say, other suitors for your attention? Any who might have been aware of your interest in Tiyem?"