When Death's Hounds Fly
6th of February 2007 A.D.
The great hall— you had taken to calling it that even though you are not entirely sure what it might have once been in the days when Arawn ruled here—is alive once more with the sound of barking as white coated red-eyed hounds goof about in that way that only really big dogs pretending to be puppies can. The fact that they are also all excitedly chattering to each other and not all in the same language only adds to the surreal air.
"We don't need a leash as long as we aren't on public land or king's land...."
"No, no, we have to watch up for conkers, they'll think we're going to eat them and get poisoned. Do you know how many dogs get poisoned by conkers?"
"It's February outside Croix, February!"
"
Februa, the rite of purification? Do we have to get washed? I don't think I wanna get washed in a mortal stream those have coal dust in them, it would streak my coat all black."
"Wait isn't that Lupercalia? That is about us," the one who'd been talking about conkers puffs up his chest which sends one of the stools tumbling.
"That's not about us, it's about
wolves, the she-wolf of Rome," a dog with a particularly fearsome wolf-like face somewhat at odds with the vigorous tail wagging that has probably cleaned several centuries of dust just in the last few minutes.
"I wager
I could raise babies better than any old Roman Wolf. What do you think my lady? Would we be good at raising babies? I could heal them right up of all their bumps and bruises and then breathe magic on them..."
"What would be...?"
"Friends, companions!" Lydia half-shouts to be heard. "I'm sure we'll all be fine as long as you remember some simple rules, no talking and no acting undog-like."
Six canine heads bounce up in unison to look at her and nod deliberately in uncanny synchronicity.
"Maybe you could claim they were all trained for the circus," Daniel offers, manfully trying to keep from laughing at his girlfriend's expression. Really, the hounds of Arawn are probably wiser than all of you here put together. They are just glad to at last be free to explore the world once more, to have a huntsman to lead them again, no matter how odd the hunt. Even of those that want to go, two dozen in all only some can benefit from Lydia's blessing, seven to be exact and Midnight makes eight, but they should be a welcome addition to the defense of Chicago against spookier perils while also giving Lydia her own eyes and ears in the city that are not dependent on the moods of flighty ghosts.
***
The sight of a slight sixteen year old girl leading a pair of large red-eyed dogs down the road and over the bridge in Cardigan draws a few eyes, even as late at night as you are. Presumably you look a little less like a potential source of canine chaos with your pair and Daniel least of all with his leads, but still you get the feeling that if anyone around here has access to a phone camera they will be using it.
"Maybe we should have brought Tiffany," Olivia offers, only leading the one hound.
"Her and the... foreign gentlemen who don't speak the language." You shake your head. "Better to avoid any cultural shocks until they can at least talk things through." The image of Sir Gwair solving his problems
non-verbally on UK streets is enough to give you nightmares. It would probably draw half the White Council's standing reserve.
"How are we going to get all of them on the plane?" Daniel draws you back to the here and now.
"Ever here that old quandary about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" Lydia answers. "Well..."
***
7th of February 2007 A.D.
As it happens the answer to the question of how many spirit hounds can fit in six inch square lead box is 'more than seven', though there is the odd shuffle from Lydia's carry on you learn on landing that it wasn't anyone being uncomfortable. One of them really wanted to see what the outside of the plane was like, having
heard of aviation from the dead they shepherded, but never experienced it. Thankfully cooler heads reminded the would be aerial explorer that even though the lack of air would not harm a spirit he also couldn't keep up with the plane.
"Huh... so that's what's West of Western Shore to the living world a-keeping," a very soft voice piped up as you got off the plane at O'Hare. "New plains to roam, new forests to hunt, more souls to shepherd than all our kind who ever were could ever manage."
Who if anyone do you share tales of your... late-Arthurian adventures and how much do you share?
[] Your parents: Dad would probably want to know what you are conspiring against the Denarians, though he might not see the proposed methods in the best light
-[] Write in
[] Harry: It's likely Tiffany when she gets back from teaching English and modern culture, but you have no idea what
-[] Write in
[] No one
[] Write in
OOC: Cutting this off here because we already jumped around a lot in this update and I do not want to shove Porter or the Jade Dogs in the back half of an update, squeezed for screen time. In any case I think we are moving faster than last month. No rolls for this one. 
