the most miserably solitary existence imaginable.

[victoryof]

In Soviet Russia one does not stumble upon Tharkay. Tharkay stumbles upon you. Or, he would, if he stumbled.

Tharkay is a man of occasional caution and constant calm-- a habitual survivor. Finding himself in unknown territory that he is pretty sure, even with his limited knowledge of the continent, is not Australia, his first response is to

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[cptlaurence]

Meanwhile, in the day that he has been there Temeraire has discovered the lake. After a good deal of splashing and fish catching he is now just lazily swimming in circles with a lightly dozing Laurence laid out on his back. Temeraire supposes he deserves the rest since he was up half the night trying to figure out where they are, but it would still be nice if he hadn't drifted off in the middle of a conversation. Just swimming with no one to talk to is getting a bit boring.

[This oughtta be interesting since Mr Laurence here is pre-Victory and thus pre-Australia.]

[victoryof]

It's only so long that one can not notice a twenty-ton dragon splashing around in a lake. The bird calls out once, twice, and a whistle is heard off in the distance. The kestrel circles back into the trees, disappearing.

A minute or so later, Tharkay emerges, bird on his arm, to stand on the edge of the water. He looks a bit careworn. He looks a bit relieved to see a familiar face, and their familiar faces, no less, but like all of Tharkay's emotions, it's restrained and hidden as best he can.

He nods his head. "Temeraire." And then, with cool amusement on his face, he spots the sleeping captain. He addresses him anyway, just for the hell of it. "Captain."

Ooooh, should be fun, yessu.

[cptlaurence]

"Hello," Temeraire says, swimming closer to where the other man is. "Have you been here this whole time without telling us?" He is as relieved to see a familiar face as Tharkay is, though he probably shows it better. "You should have said something earlier."

Laurence wakes up when he is called, but, since Temeraire has turned to face Tharkay, he can't see anything but an expanse of lake. With a sigh he closes his eyes and begins drifting off again.

[victoryof]

Tharkay's amused expression gets possibly more amused. "I am arrived much more recently; you will have to forgive my ill manners for being so late."

He sees Laurence stir, but the man does look tired, and let's sleeping dogs lie, as it were. Instead, Tharkay takes a moment to release his bird again; it's hungry and needs something to eat, now that it's done scouting.

[rob_fellows]

How does the watcher feel about being watched? Because there's a puck who likes to do that, and as he's been watching a vampire of his lately, he certainly doesn't mind a change in scenery.

Hence the presence of a very lazily reclining puck, up in an apple tree. He may or may not be aware of Tharkay's presence.

For all we know, he's probably just sunbathing (but with his clothes).

[victoryof]

Sunbathing with clothes? How scandalous, Robin.

Eventually, Tharkay appears, probably dropped down from some shrubbery he was hiding in. The kestrel drops from the sky with a whistle, and he catches it, pausing to do something unprecedented in any company but his own: pet the bird with a measure of affection, even mumbling its name.

[rob_fellows]

Robin doesn't want to scare Elia away, should she ever come out. ^^

He glances over, and throws a lazy greeting, without moving from his position (what? it's comfortable!)

"Nice way to make an entrance," he comments, nonchalantly.

[victoryof]

With that attitude, Elia will become a Septa just to spite you, Robin.

The ghost of a genuine smile on Tharkay's face rapidly disappears as soon as he notices he's been watched. Mentally, he upbraids himself for not noticing the dude in the apple tree before sending his bird off again with a notable lack of the affection he had for it moments ago.

He shifts his posture. "It is not my best, no, but I had to leave the entourage of twenty dragons in England." Bragging? Maybe. But it's okay, because that was annoying.

[abitofboth]

Childermass is out for a walk, looking perhaps a bit idle, though Childermass is seldom truly so. He's tall, a bit stormy looking, but certainly makes up for in sharpness of observation what he lacks in apparent respectability.

[victoryof]

He may see Tharkay look over, kestrel on his arm, staring impassively out into the forest. He turns back to look back at Childermass with a bit of curiosity, mostly noting his uniform. An Englishman, then? His tone reflects the assumption, saying, "A good day to you, sir."

[abitofboth]

Childermass gives him a slight nod. "And to you." The accent probably confirms Tharkay's suspicions, placing him as a Yorkshire man. "You have the air of a man waiting for something."

[victoryof]

Tharkay's shoulder shifts, and the bird on his arm takes flight once more, still searching.

Something people (especially Englishmen) meeting Tharkay for the first time may notice, his smile. It's subtle, ever-present, and gives the distinct impression that he is mocking whomever he's talking to.

He says, with that same smile still on his lips, "Really? I should not like to be so transparent."

[cyranosavignien]

Cyrano has been -- solitary, lately. He's walking out of the mansion to go fishing, fishing rod over his shoulder and plumed hat well in place.

He probably is a rather unexpected sight.

[victoryof]

Cyrano may see the bird swoop once, twice, before disappearing. Soon after, Tharkay appears, kestrel on his arm.

He tries English first, at the last minute deciding not to go with the accent favored by high society. "Sir?" He calls after.

[cyranosavignien]

Cyrano turns around, and examines the -- new fellow? unknown fellow, at any rate.

"Monsieur?" What with the Mansion's universal translator, there's non worries with languages, but it does glitch on occasion. (Must be all the funky elven languages).

[victoryof]

Tharkay, knowing quite possibly most of the languages he will encounter here (except for the elven languages) bypasses something, we assume. Regardless, he breaks into easy French, with little if any accent. "A pleasure, Monsieur. May I trouble you with some questions?"