A cottage on a hill

Wesley was not in his armor unlike last time. In his boots, tunic, and pants he was mending a fence. He picked up a massive stone and began to clear were the fence had toppled over. He had been away for a long time and he had missed home. Then, he began to began the slow process of building the fence back up. Even though it was in the coolish evening weather it was sweaty work and hopelessly boring compared to the adventure he had had in Lapidem. The milk cow meandered over and mooed softly, licking his arm.
"Hey," He said itching her head. "How's cow life?"
The cow mooed again and he cracked a smile. The emotions let off by the cow were quiet simple, calm contentment unlike the turmoil mortals put off.

Wesley was pushing the final stones on the fence into place when he felt a trickle of fear tickle his senses. He glanced up at the cow, to the coop of chickens in his neighbor's yard, to the dog laying on his porch. When the dog noticed Wesley looking at him, he wagged his frayed tail, stood and trotted off. After honing in on the emotion he made the decision that it was human. Fear... fear of what? Judgement. Wesley stood back to admire his handy work on the fence.
"Not my best job but it will do," He muttered to himself itching his jaw. He realized he had stubble on his face. He pulled a face, his hair had gotten slightly longer too. Long enough to pull into a small ponytail, not that he would want too.
He walked down the path searching for the source of the human emotions. Then he spotted a small form curled up on a hill watching him with wide eyes.
"Lyssa?" He asked, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

The dog came over to investigate, he wagged his frayed tail as he trotted over. Wesley put his hand on his head, scratching him behind the ears.
"Whoa, relax." He winced as he was bombarded by the onslaught of emotion from Lyssa. "I can't think strait when your panicking... Of course you can stay, no need to pay. This is Moose."
Moose wagged his tail and sniffed Lyssa before licking her arm showing his approval. "Come inside," He said walking up the path.

((Sorry, pathetic post. I ran out of time. ))

"Yeah, it's fine. I don't get many visitors. " Wesley answered watching Moose gamboling about. The mutt wiggled all over and dashed up the way, slipping on the dirt path as he went. Wesley smiled at the sight. The cow reached over and attempted to eat his shirt again. He danced out of the way.
"No you don't. That will be the third time this week you've slimed up my tunic."
The cow meandered off to the middle of the pasture, to were a goat was grazing. The goat bleated and bounced off and up a tree that was slightly crooked, hopping from branch to branch. Wesley pushed open the door, the cottage was a simple three rooms. One was for sleeping, the main area for sitting and eating with a fireplace, and the last room was also for sleeping.

"No problem," he answered throwing another log onto the fire. The stack was getting low, he'd have to go cut some more in the morning. He felt the stab of worry and fear again and he winced.
"You okay?" He asked looking at her with his stormy colored eyes, concerned. He opened the closed bedroom door. "You can stay in here."
The window was on the west side so who ever stayed in there could see the sunset, much like the one that was going to happen within the next hour or so. A bed was positioned built into the wall and there was a trunk at its bottom. It was empty so who ever stayed in there could store their stuff and there was a stand in the corner with a wash basin and a pitcher.
"If you need water," he said walking over to a corner in the main room. There was a hidden handle in the floor boards and his finders hooked around it, puling it up he relieved a well. There was a rope and bucket sitting a few paces away. "Any other questions?" he asked gently. If Lyssa had been paying attention to Wesley at all she would have realized Wesley was a rather quiet person who was kind and willing to help just about anybody.

"Yeah, I am fine." He said quietly. Her fear was replaced for concern for him and he smiled as the little puppy Moose had adopted came scampering across the floor, she skidded and slammed into Lyssa ankles. The puppy was barking at Wesley with all of her might. When Wesley moved forward to pick her up, she hid behind Lyssa's legs and resumed barking at him. It was a hysterical sight, a rolly poly grey puppy barking at a massive six foot five inch man.
"Oh really, why don't you like me?" He muttered crouching down, " Is it because I'm different?" He asked in a quieter tone. But the puppy would have nothing to do with him.

"I tripped over her once," Wesley complained trying to bait the puppy to come out. There was the sound of large paws scratching at the door. Wesley decided to ignore the puppy and opened the door for Moose to come in. The puppy ran over to the large mutt and desperately tried to lick his face. The older dog walked over to the fire place, flopped down, and let the puppy burrow in between his two front legs.
With that Wesley opened the cellar door and went down the ladder for the potatoes and meat. He came back up twice. Unwrapping the chunk of dried meat he put it in the pot along with a half-bucket of water. Then he put it over the fire and started scrubbing the potatoes.

Wesley scrubbed the potatoes with vigor and his lips twitched in amusement at her curiosity.
"Come now, it is quite normal for a man living alone to prepare a meal for himself and his guest. But if you insist, wash you hands in the basin in your room and you can help me with the potatoes."
He went back to removing the dirt from them and when Lyssa came back he handed her a small, clean knife to cut potatoes with. He studied each potato with an unusual intensity in his stormy eyes. Occasionally, he would run his thumb over the scar on the right side of his face that traveled the jaw line. It was small and barely noticeable unless you were close to his face. He did this often when he was thinking.

Wesley was jerked out of his thoughts by Lyssa.
"Is this good?"
He looked at the chunks of potato on the board and smiled, "Yep. Could you make a stack of them right there while the meat simmers?"
He indicated a spot on the well worn table. Wesley finished scrubbing the potatoes and checked the meat, then he began pulling it apart with a couple roasting stick.

After Wesley finished pulling the meat apart he stood and washed his hands in the basin. Removing all of the potato dirt from underneath his fingernails and scrubbed up to his elbows. When Lyssa cut her hand Wesley watched with his stormy eyes.
"You alright?" He asked catching the cut hand in his callused ones. He studied the tiny cut. He ran a clean thumb over the cut. Were he touched the wound closed up and a expanse of pale pink flesh was there, brand new baby skin.
"All fixed."

Lyssa stares at her finger, then to Wes. Her eyes showing both fear and curiosity. How did he do that? Was he really a magic user? He didn't see him being one, for they usually looked old and dark. Wes was the total opposite. He was something. Lyssa didn't know how to respond to him. He just healed her finger without so much as a bat of an eye.

'You . . . you aren't human, are you? No human can have the power to heal, without being magic practicers, and you, you do not look like a magic user.' Lyssa questions him, afraid he might respond harshly. He could be anything. Any monster, any divine creature. Anything. Lyssa cowers back from him slowly as she waits for Wes' reply. She didn't know what he would do, but she was scared.

Wesley detected Lyssa's fear and backed up a few steps.
"Sorry." Wesley listened to her question before answering with a question. Bad thing about Nephilim is they love to answer questions with riddles.
"What does a magic user look like then? If I wasn't mortal why would you be scared of me? Have I done something to cause distrust. You already know I could heal after I saved Katherine from Iron poisoning. Why freak out now?"
Wesley put the potatoes in the stem and then started picking up the table. Watching her with intelligent blue grey eyes.

Wesley sat down in a chair but stood up abruptly as soon as she started crying and the emotion started of fear started rolling off her in torrents.
"Whoa there lass," Wesley murmured enfolding her in his arms. The fallen angel dwarfed the small Legacy. "Why would I want to hurt you? You have only been kind to me. It's okay you don't remember that happens to living things."
He stroked the back of her glossy hair and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Wesley was coping quite well for someone to little to no experience with actual girls. Katherine didn't count because she was a pirate and... well... Katherine. He was in fact panicking slightly but he didn't let it show.

Wesley chuckled slightly, "We all have messy moments all the time."
He sighed deeply and read her emotions some more. Then he could smell the soup and he disentangled himself from Lyssa. He moved over and stirred it and looked back at her.
"I am not angry at you despite what you may believe or feel Lyssa."
He pulled some wooden bowls down from a shelf and he filled them balancing them on his arm. Then he removed the pot from over the fire and moved the bowls onto the table. Wesley then put the on the table.