There was a small, two story farm cottage on the Institute property left over from Malcolm Ashford’s acquisition of the land. Tucked away in an alcove of shade trees, it was almost unnoticeable behind the main dorms and administration building. Rather than having the old structure demolished with the new construction, Ashford had instead renovated and modernized, turning the house partly into his personal residence, office, and with the various bedrooms, a resting place for important guests or even potential students. The rooms were small, left in the style of early 1900s architecture while the decor was finely furnished in a similar manner with traditional dark hardwood themes and exquisitely crafted furniture that matched the time period. Steps inside the residence seemed to move and reverberate as the building welcomed people with bright white paint and soft lighting that showed warmly over paintings and novelties from around the world.
Ashford’s office was by far the largest room. Converted from what once appeared to have been a parlor, the dark oak furnishings carried over to his large desk and leather chair. It was much dimmer than the rest of the house, but with a touch of modernity in flush ceiling lights around a textured skylight just above the desk. The walls were lined with books placed in recessed shelves that had a studious archway flourish that ran along the ceiling save for the fireplace and the windows just behind his desk while the furnishings were much more personal and the workplace slightly disheveled from regular use. The smell was something like old parchment, aged leather and the cleanliness of atmosphere that came through central air.
A dark haired woman sat in the window seat behind the desk glancing out through the blind; unimpressed with the Dean’s office. She had seen it many times before. Her sharp complexion and superbly tailored clothing presented nothing short but an air of the highest echelons of Los Angeles society. She turned her gaze to the man sitting across the desk from her on a deep red Victorian sofa.
“So this is an… ‘office’?” He asked in a deep baritone.
“Yes,” She answered. “This is how they conduct their business, usually in these settings.”
He nodded slowly, his face showing the pitiful novelty he found in the setting. Like her, his clothing was also expertly fitted, though he mostly preferred black. He sat with one leg propped broad on the other and an arm stretched out over the top of the sofa. Even sitting, it was evident he was tall, well over six feet and built firmly like a workman.
“You look nice.” She said with a tiny smirk.
The man grinned back at the comment and ran a hand along the side of his head, feeling the converging scars of an ancient marking that continued around the back of his neck. He continued to look around the room before the door opened, bringing his eyes back to her briefly as two men entered.
Pierce and Ashford entered the room. The woman in the window seat watched them carefully, studying their expressions and mannerisms with only the faintest hint of a smirk. The man on the sofa did not turn his head, only letting them come into his view as they stood between the pair at the desk, neither taking a seat.
“Well, I have to give you credit already Dr. Ashford,” The man said. “You’ve accomplished what very few have ever done, made me wait.”
“You’re Finvarra.” Pierce said. The statement was neither accusatory or defensive, but carried a tiny sliver of apprehension that even Pierce had not intended.
“I am,” The man replied with a small nod, looking back steadily at the young professor. “And you are…?”
“A pet,” The woman chimed in.
“
Pet?”
Pierce glared back at the woman who no longer made any attempt to hide a grin. Ashford motioned calmly with one hand to clear the air. “This is Professor Adam Pierce, he serves as my Director of Training here at the Institute and my closest confidant.”
Finvarra looked back slightly quizzically at the woman. “I thought you said his second in command was a woman?”
“She is, but she’s only in charge in as much as she knows about.” The woman replied. “Dr. Ashford doesn’t trust her with the truth. He keeps mister Pierce around because he’s loyal,
like a dog.”
“Why don’t we get down to business,” Ashford said, placing the same calming hand on Pierce who crossed his arms and leaned against the bookshelf behind him. “And leave the critical review of my staff members to me.”
“Where is Una?” Finvarra interjected nearly as soon as Ashford had finished speaking. His dark eyes trained heavily on the Dean.
“Here in our training center, just across the courtyard,” Ashford said. “I’m sure you will be taking her back today?”
“No, I will not, I have things to attend to in Avalon that could put her in danger, so unfortunately my stay here will be brief this time, but I will see her before I go.”
“Of course,” Ashford replied with some hesitancy.
“Don’t worry doctor,” Finvarra gestured dismissively. “I won’t upset the balance of what you have contrived here, just yet. Sena tells me you have several potential candidates to continue your work?”
Ashford raised one hand to his chin in contemplation and crossed the other over his chest. “Yes, several of them have displayed a very high level of potential, but even from that small group, we have some stand out candidates, particularly from the events last night.”
Finvarra nodded slowly, but gave a distant glance before his eyes drifted briefly back towards Sena, looking over her figure and again to Ashford. His fingertips drummed slowly on the top of the sofa. “I also understand the medicines we have provided are becoming less effective?”
Ashford gave a slight sigh, “Yes, it seems I am slowly building an immunity to its effects. It’s a problem that I have not been able to fully understand given the circumstances, but I am confident our work will be completed well before I am unable to continue in this arrangement.”
Finvarra smirked and shook his head. Watching him, Sena smiled slyly from the window seat seeing the familiar look of distaste across the man’s face. “There’s also the issue of the other one you’ve invited on your staff. He is not from this realm. How is that possible?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be coy with me, doctor.”
“What is he talking about?” Pierce piped in.
“He’s talking about your new security officer.” Sena said darkly. “He’s not from this reality and he’s not from ours either. So how did he get here when you control the only gateway?”
Pierce looked on dumbfounded as confusion overcame his obvious disdain for the person in question.
Ashford shook his head. “I… I don’t know,” He said finally, clearly disappointed in still be perplexed by the question in spite of the time that had passed.
“That’s the wrong answer.” Sena chirped.
Ashford turned his eyes hard at the woman who merely responded by tilting her head and glaring back nearly as a challenge. “I could sense the rift that brought him here when it happened and it was as if he was simply drawn towards us steadily, whether it was somehow by me or perhaps one of the students. I thought we could gain more knowledge by fostering a relationship and bringing him close enough to study.”
“You have someone in this work right now?” Finvarra asked.
“He does, but she just doesn’t know it yet.” Sena replied, keeping a slight smile, turning her gaze back through the window blind.
]
