EVENT - THE BLACK CITY

[faileas]

Event Log: August, The Black City

A STARLESS SKY You feel like you're floating. Around you, colors and sounds and smells swirl as if trapped in a whirlpool, vibrancy and hue ever shifting. The more you watch them, the less solid they are; they only become clear out of the corner of your eye. The area around you begins to feel more solid as well, until your feet are on the ground, the taste of smog and fog heavy in your lungs - and you know one thing, and one thing alone: this is a dream, and an incredibly realistic one at that. Unlike the last time this shared dream happened, only familiar faces of your fellow mirrorbound appear around you; and unlike the last time that flavor of dream happened, those native to the city of Aefenglom are nowhere to be found. Instead, an impossibly tall wall raises in front of you; along it run small windows with people peering from the edges, arrows shimmering with the tell-tale glitter of magic peeking from the darkness, with more figures standing guard or patrolling the top of it. The wall itself is made of a dark, onyx-like stone - it's reflective in the smoothness of its bricks, painting all who look into it in clear darkness, and the effect is similarly found in the wide moat that surrounds the city, the faint sound of a river feeding into it the only thing to hear in the tense silence. Only one massive door stands as the entrance to the city, chains hanging across it with the protective runes of a barrier some of you might be familiar with by now. With a groan the chains begin to pull away, the door lowering across the moat as a bridge, and a party of Witches - for they must be Witches, the pins on their cloaks the same as those found in the Coven in Aefenglom - urges the group inside. Monsters find it easier to obey the orders - compelled to, even - but perhaps that's the safety of the city calling out to you, and nothing more.

I. THE CITY ITSELF While Aefenglom is known for its dusk-hued skies, made of lustrous pinks and purples and blues, this city is dreary to the core. The streets are covered in a perpetual fog, not unlike the city you hail from, but thicker, denser, tinged with the flavor of industrial smog from the factories whose spires you can see in the distance. Magitech lights - lanterns above doors, street posts, flickering in the windows you pass - illuminate everything throughout the entire day, as if the sunshine can't reach through the foreboding fog nor the onyx walls. Even the windows are barred, offering a paranoid protection against the outside world. Doors seem hardier, and each building is reinforced and protected in a way that may feel familiar to those that have encountered the protective magic wards. They're heavier, leaving an almost ominous presence that causes unease to hang just as heavy in the air as the smog. The people of this city are just as dreary as the streets, though they do mill about with the same frequency as any city. Unlike the citizens of the dead Aefenglom that were encountered just the month before, however, these are real, living people. They can be spoken to. They can be touched. They interact with wariness and caution towards the strangers that have been heralded into their walled in world, especially those that show what they presume to be monstrous traits. Because it becomes quickly obvious that the majority of the citizens that answer a call, a question, a touch to gain their attention... They're human. a. OBEY AND SUBMIT Monsters that can be seen on the streets aren't few and far between, however. Their presence is subtle, in the fog and amidst the passing crowds of passing faces, but they're there. On a surface level, most of them seem to be fairly at ease. Passive and unfazed by anyone that tries to interact with them, as if they're disinterested by their mere presence in a way that isn't reflected by their human counterparts. A closer look shows a strained pinch to their faces, a tenseness to their bodies, a glazed look just at the surface of their eyes. Too many attempts to interact with them will cause some humans to emerge from shops, or ask that you leave their business; these are the ones that are... employed, most often seen in the shopping and industrial districts. But their movements are almost robotic in repetition, and they never speak to anyone even when addressed - even when a keen eye might take note of the sturdy leather collars around their necks, reinforced by metal and with visible places to attach a leash. Some in the industrial district can be seen with these leashes, powerful chains to keep them attached to carts, to keep them from swimming down the river, from flying away and out of the black walls of the city. All Monsters present in the city are clothed, though it's the ones on the clearly decorative leashes with the more delicate collars that are the best dressed. They accompany humans throughout the city, the same placid blankness present much like their busier counterparts. These are the aristocrats and their so-called "Bonded," though implying the same tone one would take in Aefenglom here will net a deep set of disgust. Attempting to rouse these Monsters does very little, and may even result in them jerking away and cowering behind their human company. b. GOING ONCE, GOING TWICE At one end of the city is a massive pavilion, one made of the same stone as the wall, giving off the same oppressive foreboding. Humans come and go from this peculiar town square with a casual air, an intent the same as a stroll through the stalls on the market street. Because that's, essentially, what they're doing. Monsters young and old put on display to show their abilities and strengths, tasks that range from the physically demanding to performances of artistic abilities. Some seem to be just at the surface of awareness, their glazed expressions refocusing at times with a sort of strained fear that's visible even at a glance. Many don't even react outside of doing the tasks they're ordered to do, going through the motions as a barker speaks at length about them, their abilities, how much their labor goes for and what they cost. These Monsters are purchased by the humans of the city at each display, many of them never wearing more than their basic clothes and the customary collar, a chain to keep them tied to their station with a generous enough reach. Most come and go with very little struggle, but some... it becomes obvious that they've broken through the surface and are coming up for air for the first time in a long time. Wooden posts where the chains are connected can be heard splintering with the force of their struggle, metal bending under pressure, the anxious energy of something about to happen. But the fights never last long, as attendants wearing Coven pins on their cloaks swoop in to attend to the situation - and many dreamers might notice a familiar Witch filtering in and out of the events, speaking to the auctioneers before departing for another selling. It's difficult to recall their face later, no matter how clearly one saw it before, but one thing is certain: while not necessarily prim and proper, this person is someone with a steel spine and a sharp eye. And they saw you, just the same as you saw them. c. AT BECK AND CALL With enough observation, or perhaps even experience, it becomes apparently how this is happening: any command or order issued to a Monster is taken to the most literal, and Monsters have no choice but to obey. Many Monsters employed as workers are so deep in the compulsion that they won't obey any additional commands, unless it comes from the person they have this most warped "Bond" with. Others will accept commands from anyone, even the mirrorbound Witches that have come into their city. Even the most asinine command is one that they'd obey, and one that maybe even you'll obey, too. Having a friend playfully tell them to shut up? They're forced into silence until told that they can speak again. Told to jump off a bridge? Best make sure you specify that you don't want them to jump off of a very high one, if you really want them gone that badly. Handstands, cartwheels, jumping jacks - but also, hurting someone, hurting themselves... one has to hope the Monster in question has a strong willpower, or it's a command that goes against one that's already been issued to them. But something of note is that mirrorbound Monsters of Aefenglom will find that they're also effected by this, though they're better able to fight the compulsion. Those with weaker constitutions may need help snapping out of the command, especially as a powerful command will be painful to fight against, and Witches will have to watch their words. Take care that your friends, your peers, the strangers you've arrived with, don't find themselves attending the auction block - it's a very real possibility in this place, with an unknown Monster unattended and uncollared. It should all be harmless, though. After all, this is only a dream... isn't it? No NPCs are available for this log - unlike with the midsummer dream, they're nowhere to be seen. No Nessie, no Mhairi, no one. Which means that there's no one to counsel them as they find themselves exploring the setting, and discovering that they're just as susceptible as the people in the dream...

II. THE COVEN Unlike with Aefenglom, there isn't a proper Parliament. A little investigation will lead to the discovery that the Coven of this city is the main governing body, which may explain a great deal about why there's such a massive presence of magic here. Located at the center of town - all roads lead to the Coven, a massive stone building with sharp looking spires - the grounds are notable in that there's nothing even remotely similar to the Looking-Glass House that everyone has come to know, despite its secrets. Should one gain entry to the main building of the Coven itself, they'll find that all the mirrors are within. Their main focuses of magic, rather than the more broad spectrum/free-to-study policy that Miss Nessie encourages, are enchantment and abjuration - for control, primarily. They're also heavy studiers of runes, visible across the city and with an even heavier influence in the wards of the Coven itself. They are, regardless, fairly welcoming to eager young minds wanting to learn. So long as the Monsters are left behind. But who's to say that you can't disguise a Monster? a. STUDY TIME Those curious about the Coven's library are welcome to investigate it for themselves, the Witches all smiling faces as they usher their visitors in. But they'll soon find that they aren't really left to their own devices; a member of this Coven branch is practically around every corner, and while they try to be subtle about their observation it becomes quickly obvious that they're not there for their own studies. They're stationed around the library to ensure that their guests don't make off with any of their resources, or try to get into any forbidden sections of the expansive library. Where the Coven library of Aefenglom - as well as the Undermael College's library - plays devil's advocate, with accounts and studies conducted from both sides of the anti-Monster sentiment and attempt to expand upon outdated knowledge... these ones have a decidedly anti-Monster lean in every regard. Any attempts to find otherwise will be met with bemused amusement by the Coven members, and a note that they don't carry such things here. After all, they're certainly not Aefenglom. They would never carry anything that could put their citizens at risk in such a way. Nevermind those horrid Bonds that Bell goes on and on about - it's no wonder that they're always at odds with their government. If only they'd wisen up, hm? Perhaps these new arrivals would like to transfer to their branch, instead, to better guarantee their growth. b. THROUGH THESE HALLS If one manages to slip away from the library without having somebody tailing them, they'll soon discover that the chilled atmosphere doesn't simply linger in the city itself. The halls are cold, the runes unwelcoming unlike the homey feel that Nerissa Bell's charms offer. Certainly home isn't perfect - and there's no denying that the sentiment is shared by many - but the smiling faces of the Black City's branch are at odds with the feel of their magic, the caged in weight pressing down on everything, including your shoulders. The halls are dimly lit by flickering lights, enchanted lanterns with a constantly burning yellow-white fire. Plenty of nooks and dark corners afford even large Monsters the ability to sneak through the halls, should they be snuck in for better investigation with their peers. Take care, however; there are Witches coming and going constantly. An empty room might lead to a study, a classroom, a bedroom. Locked doors don't yield easily, even in a dream, and may need to be abandoned. But a terrible, foreboding feeling emanates from large double doors that are rigidly locked. Hushed voices speak from the other side, and it's almost like the cold feeling that spreads throughout the Coven itself finds its source behind those doors. Periodically, sounds of pain escape from within - but they die out to whimpers, then silence, before they can ever get too loud. A crisp voice speaks only one word, clear even through the wood and the magic: "Again."

III. THE DARK UNDERBELLY There's always more to a city than the streets that you can see at the surface level. If you're looking, it's not hard to spot the signs. There are runes that mark walls and cobblestone streets like graffiti, and a studied eye might realize that they're not the same sort that have subjugated the more monstrously inclined of the Black City. These are intended to dispel magic, and the moment that a member of the Coven notices it - it's swept up as soon as possible, scrubbed clean or scorched off with magic. People take to the streets in small groups, standing their ground and raising their voices above the muffled din of a foggy city. They carry chains and collars that have been broken, but many of them are undeniably human as they confront something that has so obviously become the norm. Break the chains! they demand. Break the spell! Monsters go missing from the auctions with a well-placed distraction - perhaps you're one of the individuals being freed from the pavilion, or someone that's realized that there are people coming and going through the crowds, wearing the same cloaks as the Coven but without their iconic pins, dressed as aristocracy, from all walks of life... smuggling the Monsters away at the first chance. a. PARTY TO PROTEST Not every uprising can be swept under the rug at first sign, however. Witches take to the streets, looking surprised to see the mirrorbound arrivals from Aefenglom - and it's not the same wariness that most would give them. This is the calculating eye of someone assessing whether the person they've met will help or hinder, and some of them decided that you're to be help. Enchanted slips of paper are pushed into hands, runes are taught as quickly as possible in a hushed whisper and explanation, locations given out to Witch and Monster alike with a word of caution. Use the paper on a surface, any surface, and you'll see. Use the runes to break the compulsion - you might have to do it twice, thrice, however many times it takes to dispel the magic. Don't be caught. Using the enchantment as instructed - pressing the paper against a wall, the ground, a post, anything - will result in glowing runes overtaking the surface. It's the same as the runes that are taught to Witches, used to ward against the magic in place just as much as it is to create a statement of protest. If one goes to a location that is whispered to them, they'll find that they've joined an organized protest. It's small in size, a mixture of Witches and unleashed Monsters. Due to the size and frequency it's easy enough to find them, but the guards are very quick in putting them down or hiding any traces of them from the public eye, despite the protesters' best attempts. There's nothing amiss in the city, and nothing for citizens to worry about. b. REST AND REGROUP But they can't find every source of the resistance. It isn't hard for dreamgoers to find themselves swept up by these protesters. Any help is welcome, and those that show an inclination towards helping the Monsters of the city - or their Monsters that they know, regardless people that shouldn't suffer this way - will be taken into the fold. Entrances to their secret routes can be found in places that are hidden in plain sight. A storefront tended to by a Monster with eyes in sharp clarity when they look up from their robotic work welcomes a group of people in and behind the counter, to where a hatch door is hidden in the floor. A manhole cover is pried up, where people are smuggled down below. A portal is prepared, a different and darker destination on the other side. They all lead to the same location. The sewers are vast beneath this city. Much like the labyrinth that many faced in the Midsummer nightmare, it almost seems winding, endless, and the water is cold when it's crossed. But even with the stank of the runoff, the musty and moldy air, there's never the sense of dread, of death. Instead, there are signs of when you're going the right way - runes that shimmer only when looking at them out of the corner of your eye, or when you know what to look for. Three stars together - sometimes overlapping, sometimes circling each other, but always three, and always five points. While they appreciate the help, the mirrorbound aren't invited in by the revolutionaries to the main hideout. But it becomes obvious by charm bracelets, necklaces, piercings, tattoos, embroidery and stitching on shirts; this symbol, and its presence, is integral to their world beneath the city. But many are welcome to mingle throughout their circle. In the sewers, the shops, the small park where a rune gives secret announcements to those who know where to look for it on the third bench, even the homes of people that certainly don't look like revolutionaries, let alone anyone that would be a protector.

Welcome to the Black City! As a reminder, this takes place on August 18th - or rather, 3AM on the August 19th, much like the midsummer nightmare. If you have any questions or need any clarifications, you can ask them here! And as always, while we do encourage you to use this log, you can feel free to thread things out on your own log or elsewhere. Characters are allowed to try and start fights in the city, create prompts based on the information given instead of using the ones given exactly, and poke their noses where they don't belong - we encourage it, actually. But regardless of what you choose, we hope you have a good time!

And as a final parting note: If a character dies in the dream, they'll simply reappear at the beginning rather than waking up like normal.

Comments

Fang | Monster (Turnskin)

[belligerentwarrior]

1. Vicious thoughts are stirring [Coven]

[Fang's minimal physical Monster traits continued to be a blessing. Slipping away from the watchful eyes of the people in the wall was a little tricky, but stealing a Witch's robes wasn't. Covered from the neck down, it was easy to pass as a human, as long as Fang carefully kept from exposing her sharp teeth and avoiding as many humans as she could.]

[Sneaking into the Coven, as an uncollared Monster, was probably insane. She never was good at making sound life choices. Stealth, however, she could do, and only became better at it with every full moon.]

This way. [She hissed to any mirrorbound she happened across in the oppressive halls. Mirrorbound could be trusted, couldn't they?] You can feel it, can't you? Like something cold, tryin' to push you the other direction.

[Staying calm in this twisted nightmare was a challenge. The sight of the collared Monsters infuriated her; the freshly waning twin moons, even in the dream, sung of blood in her ears. Her tightly restrained rage pressed against her Monster's instincts in turn, and Fang felt a need to shift building, a need to shrug out of her human-like flesh into what currently felt like her true form—to indulge her fury and seek out lifeblood. But now was not the time. It couldn't be, for her own sake. There were more important things to learn.]

2. And I hunger for their power [Market]

[Eventually, a shifted turnskin wound up in the market, the Monster's limbs a little too long and forepaws a little too hand-like to be a true jaguar. Snarls and growls rose up intermittently before briefly falling silent under the weight of the compulsion. The feline mostly laid still, head bowed, violently twitching against a similar compulsion to stay down; sometimes, she managed to jerkily rise to a quadrupedal stance before collapsing again. The Monster's neck constantly twitched around, trying to instinctively get away from the thin silver wire set into the edge of the leather collar.]

[Lucidity's missing from this one's eyes, too—but instead of glazed, the Monster's eyes are full of the borderline feral rage of a turnskin driven to shifting by fierce emotion. It occasionally subsides—but between the pain of fighting the compulsion while beginning to go feral, and the howl of the nearly-full moons and the pain of the silver wire breaking her concentration while lucid, Fang's unable to calm herself; the cycle starts again, like a torturous loop.]

[The handler presiding over her heaved a sigh. His arm bore a set of scratches, from when she managed to fight the commands long enough to lash out.]

This one ain't worth the money. [He held a small syringe above his head—a diluted nightshade mixture.] Half price if you sedate it yourself! Might just put it down, otherwise.

3. Wildcard

[Throw something at me and I'll roll with it, or I can write a new prompt! I'm down with everything about this event.]

2

[beariot]

I'll try my hand at it.

[ Fang could feel it before she even turned her eyes to see it. The calming aura of her bonded, the woman who loved her, approaching the handler with her brim pulled low over her eyes, exposing her full expression save for the stoic line of her mouth, betraying little emotion outwardly, and her voice was a matching cold.

But Fang could tell what was truly going on in Chariot's heart. She could feel the anger, the longing, the hurt in seeing Fang like this. But there was a confidence there as well as Ursula turned her attention to the handler again.

She had a plan. ]

Hand my the syringe, please.

[belligerentwarrior]

[That aura might as well have been a balm. That familiar promise of shelter coaxed Fang's mind back towards conscious thought, that steadiness in the calm and confidence giving her a foothold among her turmoil.]

[The scream of the moons against her raw nerves, and the horrid silver wire flush against her neck kept trying to pull her back under. That flicker of recognition faded when she started to thrash and snarl again; then the feline grew tense and still, growling lowly, as the pull of Chariot's heart tugged Fang back to the reality for a few fleeting heartbeats. Back and forth, back and forth... but Fang was holding on for longer, and more frequently, with her partner's appearance.]

Careful, [the handler cautioned as he handed over the needle.] It's a willful one.

[beariot]

I can tell... [ Ursula took the needle... and while his eyes missed it, even Fang's unfocused gaze would catch what happened next, the nightshade filled vial quickly being switched out for a different one, one that quickly took on a shape identical to the first, with its contents becoming the same color and consistency. ]

But I intend to provide a home for her. I made a promise, after all.

[ And just like that, she rushed to the handler, jabbing the sedative filled syringe into to handler's back in one swift, easily missed motion that no one passing by in the market would even notice, her other arm quickly rising to support his chest for when consciousness slipped away from him, as water in a drain. ]

[belligerentwarrior]

The hell are you—[The handler's words quickly slid to a stop, the last sound slurred and plunging in volume. He sagged, swayed, then fell bonelessly into Chariot's support.]

[The swift motion of the rush stirred Fang's mind, both human and predator, to focus. Fierce pride and affection—and courtesy of the moons, possessiveness—surged through the Bond. Chariot's words, her promise, her determination anchored itself in Fang's heart, and gave her consciousness something to return to.]

[The slumping handler, on the other hand, focused something else. The turnskin's fury, spurred on by the sight of her captor's weakness, condensed into keen, murderous intent. She would enjoy tearing his throat out.]

[She struggled to her feet again against the commands weighing on her shoulders, stalking a step forward. The ache of resistance grew quickly into pins and needles, then knives, and had it been just the pain, Fang might've been able to close the distance. But when the dizziness hit, she stumbled, and the following nausea sapped away the strength she'd mustered. The feline collapsed low to the ground again, head bowed, but intent still burning in her heart.]

[beariot]

[ Chariot gently set the handler down near some crates, away from the public eye, but she hadn't missed that deep, chilling murderous intention flashing over the bond either, trying her best to suppress it with a calming aura of her own, thought it was faint. Something comforting for Fang to hold onto, warm and welcoming, but not foster her anger or hate for the man. He may not have deserved her mercy, but...

She turned her attention to Fang, pulling out her want to give a few flicks, peeling away the collar gently and slowly, as much as she could, before gathering Fang up in her arms, holding her close and just letting her soak in the physical contact of the bond, the magic therein, but more importantly the relief from Chariot that Fang was still alive, that she was relatively unharmed, and once more safe in Chariot's arms. ]

I know a way out... But we need to find Kaede, too...

[belligerentwarrior]

[Fang keened quietly in relief as the collar came off, or as close to it as her gravelly shifted voice could. The silver wire set into one edge of the collar left behind a horrible line of charred flesh, like it'd been a red-hot metal instead of a precious one. Fang's weight leaned hard into that embrace, that warmth that was the antithesis of this awful place, momentarily overwhelmed by the raw relief of it all.]

[It was difficult to tell on her dark mottled fur, but there were other scorch marks, as well; thin burn lines, all superficial, and subtly different enough from the silver wound that it implied fire magic.]

[...Kaede. That's right. Fang'd lost her, in the madness. She had to make sure she was safe. The new task was enough to focus her away from her bloodlust, giving her monstrous instincts something else to fixate on. The feline made a chuffing noise—a failed attempt at speech. Fang was still too worked up to manage words.]

[So she settled for lifting her head (a struggle, it looked like) to nuzzle Chariot's shoulder. Gratitude, plain and simple. Her head dropped down to a bowed position again after.]

[beariot]

[ Chariot's hands traced over those marks as she felt them, each one rending her heart, finding herself unable to feel much but shame and guilt in her inability to protect Fang from what had wounded her. They were together now, though... that was what mattered. They could find Kaede and escape this terrible reflection of the city's dark history. They could find some peace for themselves...

Chariot broke the embrace just briefly to pick the collar back up again, carefully using her wand to peel away the silver without touching it or getting any residue on her fingertips. ]

I'm going to have to put this back on you... It's the only way to assure people will think you... belong [ said with a measure of restrained disgust ] to me. That way we can look for Kaede more freely.

She gestured at the handler. By the time he wakes up, he won't even remember you, or me. So we don't have to worry about that, either.

[belligerentwarrior]

[This woman and her unending thoughtfulness. Fang adored it, watching her remove the silver cautiously, and she knew where the Witch was going with the thought before she even said it. It was logical. Smartest move they could make, really. Fang would've suggested it herself, had she been steadier.]

[But Fang was more reactionary beast than she wanted to be in this moment, her ears pinning back and tail lashing. A quiet growl rumbled in her chest; she accepted the idea, but her wounds too fresh to not hate even feigning being collared.]

[But she trusted Chariot, completely. The compulsion left by the handler was quickly fading with his unconsciousness, and Fang lifted her head to offer her neck.]

[beariot]

I... I know... I know... And you know I'd never ask this of you if it wasn't to assure your safety. [ Chariot's hands trembled over the collar, not yet placing it back on Fang's neck. There was also notably hadn't made any commands. But Fang was lifting her head regardless, and the weight of the decision to do this suddenly felt that much heavier. ]

When we're all together again, away from this place... I'll make it up to you. I promise.

[ Slowly, hands still unsteady, she slipped the collar back over her bonded's neck, barely able to look at what she was doing, her guilt pounding in her heart. ]

[belligerentwarrior]

[She hated watching her partner's hands tremble like that. She hated feeling the steady confidence from before crushed by guilt. The collar hurt, where it pressed against that ring of damaged flesh, but it was at least a regular kind of hurt—a tolerable kind of pain, not the agony of silver.]

[Fury still burned in her heart with her hatred of this place, mixing freely with the bloodlust that never subsided. But that was the problem, wasn't it? It was what blew Fang's cover in the first place, forced her to shift, and kept swatting aside any logic that arose in her mind. She'd probably be able to play her part with Chariot there... but for how long, before the rage seized her again? Back in her world, Fang would've been able to keep those roiling emotions in check. But as a Monster under the moons...]

[Fang utterly hated what she was about to suggest, and her tail lashed harder. Her growled rose, then faded, as she tried to speak.]

Or... der, me. Stay calm. [She hoped the mangled sounds were intelligible. If Fang couldn't keep herself in check, Chariot could. They could use the rules of this place against it. Fang needed to play it smart, for both their sakes. She couldn't do that at the beck and call of the moons.]

[beariot]

[ Chariot's eyes widened, unable to do much but stare in shock at the suggestion for a moment before aggressively shaking her head. ]

N-no! I could never do that! [ Even if it was for Fang's own sake, for keeping them both safe, she could never live with herself for taking any advantage of that magic, the very idea of it poison to her, turning her stomach.

Even if... even if she knew Fang was right, and that she may not have a choice... ]

[belligerentwarrior]

[Damn it. She hated asking Chariot to do this, her horror and revulsion clear in the Bond.]

[But they had to find Kaede. She couldn't let Chariot be discovered as a sympathizer. As long as Fang's fury threatened to blaze out of her control, it was almost as much of a threat to her agency as the compulsions were.]

My per... perm—[damn it all, why did all the words she knew for permission have so many syllables?] ...okay. It's, okay. Need clear... [The chuffing noise again, instead of a word. Fang tries again.] head.

[She was so, so sorry.]

Pl...ease. For me.

2

[fulgency]

[Scenes like this are not as entirely commonplace as one might anticipate. Too many of the Monsters are lost under the thrall of enchantment, listless and carrying out their tasks over and over and over and over again until directed otherwise while others prance about behind their masters with no genuine enthusiasm. So, the commotion of this turnskin fighting against both bond and command catches Ozymandias' attention for just a moment. But in that barest of moments, he notices jewelry he knows without a doubt he's seen before in the waking world though the context and its owner is lost upon him.]

[Ozymandias more or less ignores the handler as he speaks, studying the turnskin before him for a moment. He's combing through his memory, trying to place the jewelry with a name. Or perhaps a face. If he could just remember something about their identity, it might allow him to break through some of the obvious storm happening within the mind of this turnskin. But try as he might, he can't place it.]

[He crouches down, trying to get a better look at it.]

That won't be necessary, [he says of the syringe, the only attention he's willing to pay to the handler at least for now. To the turnskin before him, he continues,] I believe our paths have crossed with one another once before, but I cannot say for certain. Perhaps you remember me?

[belligerentwarrior]

[She recognized up on his scent before he even started speaking. It was a struggle to raise her head from where it was compulsively bowed, snarling against the pain, but there was a flicker of recognition in the feline's green eyes. Fang gives a jerky nod, but the movement against the silver-edged collar causes her hiss and drop her head low again, growling.]

[Her claws dig into the cobbles underneath. Apprehension joined her fury, in the moments she was lucid enough to think of things other than blood.]

[The handler simply crosses his arms, frowning.]

[fulgency]

[The recognition is for only a moment, but it's just long enough for Ozymandias to know that even if he cannot place a name or face, he knows this turnskin. He stands up just enough that he can move closer at the hiss of pain, crouching beside her and placing a hand on her head. He knows it's not much to soothe the pain of silver against her neck or in fighting against the command this handler has placed, but he sees that she is suffering. Considering the scratches on the handler, Ozymandias deems them to be hardly fair in an exchange of pain.]

[He looks up at the handler.]

It seems a shame to me that such a creature should be destroyed. [He begins petting her with both hands, the first hand slipping to the buckle of the collar. Subtly, he begins pulling the strap loose. He tries to be as mindful as possible of the silver's contact with her skin, but with as tight as it is, it's difficult to avoid it altogether.] Did you say half price?

[Once he has the strap loose, Ozymandias holds it carefully in his hand to give the appearance that it is still secured. He can't take the collar off just yet, but a little looser so that every subtle movement doesn't bring her into further contact with the silver should prove at least a small reprieve.]

[belligerentwarrior]

[The growling intensifies into something low and dangerous, and in her haze Fang isn't sure if it's more the beast part of her being indignant at being pet by this near-stranger, or the silver rubbing further into her ruined flesh. The jaguar's paw-hand lashes out at Ozymandias' leg, but Fang has just enough presence of mind to pull it so it falls short.]

[Beyond that, though, the feline remains still—especially after the silver's torturous touch slackens.]

Yeah. Your responsibility if it turns out to be a maneater. [He holds up the syringe again, giving it a little wiggle.] Sure you don't want the insurance?

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias spares a glance down at her when she makes a motion towards his leg, but he doesn't flinch or draw away from her. It's not as though he would simply shrug it off if she were to claw at him, but he is not one to allow for such weakness within himself as to be afraid of her lashing out at him. He cannot particularly hold it against her anyway.]

I said once before that it is unnecessary.

[Ozymandias' tone blatantly shows that he is not one accustomed to repeating himself. Cold irritation arises easily as a result. He stops petting the turnskin at his side to pull free a coin purse at his hip. He tosses in the handler's direction without any further ado.]

That's more than you're asking for. Take it, release "it" from your command, and go.

[Ozymandias' hand pulls the strap completely free from the collar. The only thing holding it still around her neck is his hand...]

[...And the moment she's released, he intends to let it drop.]

[belligerentwarrior]

[The handler's frown deepens as he catches the generous sum, eyes flicking from this odd Witch to the dangerous turnskin that'd been fighting so much harder just moments ago—and actually clawed him, not whatever that half-assed swipe was.]

[Either way, the best situation was to walk away, even if it was his stall. He hefts the pouch in his hand and moves on.]

Do it yourself. Not my problem anymore. [There's a quickness to the handler's step as he retreats into the rest of the market, like he could feel Fang's burning need to gut him. Her growl changes in pitch again and she coils under Ozymandias' hand like a too-tight spring, claws scratching into the cobbles and tail lashing wildly. The twin moons scream for blood in her ears.]

[fulgency]

Understand that I agree with you, [Ozymandias says as he releases the collar. He catches the free end in his other hand, guiding it around her to avoid any further burns. He crinkles his nose at the sight of the flesh and its accompanying scent beneath the collar] What you did to him is less than he deserves, but he is protected.

[Ozymandias sets the collar down on the cobblestone beside them. He interrupts what he is saying for just a brief moment to tell her,]

I'm merely looking at the extent of what the collar did. If it brings you more pain, I apologize. [To his credit, he does try to be gentle in pushing back some of her fur and in nudging her head to angle it in another direction to get a better look. Ozymandias will stop if there's any sign of aggression in his direction, however, choosing to interpret that as a sign that she's had enough. Regardless, he continues,] Maiming or killing him here and now will hold more consequences for you than this.

[If she hasn't given him a warning to stop by now, he takes his hands back, resting his rests on his knees.]

I'll release you in a moment. He needs to be a little further away for my command to override his. What you do from that point forward is your own choice as far as I'm concerned, but if you would like me to treat your neck, I would be willing to do that much for you.

[belligerentwarrior]

[She does snarl, but that's no surprise considering how bad it is. The skin and muscle beneath is severely charred and cracked in a thin ring, as if the metal had been red-hot—it's a bit of a miracle it hadn't burned into any of the delicate vital parts of the neck. It's agonizing despite his caution, but it's also agonizing when he does nothing.]

[Reason was not Fang's strong suit right now. She could hear what Ozymandias was saying. Cognitively, she knew he was right. She didn't know if she could stop herself when that counter-command came.]

[With no small amount of effort, a paw-hand flies up to grasp his wrist. The feline lifts her head, as well, to meet Ozymandias' eyes. Fang makes a quiet rowling sound in an attempt to speak; there's lucidity in her gaze, briefly, as if trying to convey some sort of message before something far more wild chases it out. The paw-hand trembles as the pain and nausea becomes too great, dropping back to the street as her head bows again.]

[Fang knows she needs to be somewhere safer than this crowded pavilion. She also knows she can't get there alone, not while she can barely control herself. Conveying that without words was... difficult.]

[fulgency]

[His eyebrows raise as she places her paw-hand on his wrist, but he understands quite quickly that she is trying to convey something to him. He just can't tell quite what that message is immediately. Taking a moment to try and parse it out, he places his hand on her shoulder. Ozymandias doesn't pet her this time, merely letting her know that he is still close by and making an effort to understand.]

Do you wish for me to stay with you?

[It seems a safe assumption based upon how quickly she grabbed at his wrist, abandoning (at least for the moment) her murderous intent for the man who sold her. He glances in the direction of where the handler went. He should be far enough away by now.]

Stand back up, if you're able.

[belligerentwarrior]

[It's infuriating, needing that order to be able to do so. Still, she rises easily to a quadrupedal stance, and after a moment, nods reluctantly. Pride did not matter right now; survival mattered. Fang didn't trust herself to not be overtaken by the bloodlust.]

[Keeping a Witch nearby would dissuade (she hoped) other collaring attempts, and Ozymandias could keep her from bringing more trouble onto herself (she hoped, as well). Even now, her eyes flick out to the others milling about through the "market", fury leaving her tense, teeth bared.]

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias sighs a little as he takes his hand off her shoulder, running it through his hair for a moment. He really only intended to free her from the situation and let that be that, but he's realizing now that was perhaps a foolish notion that it would end there. She lacks the freedom of moving about freely the way he can here, and there is no telling if another would not attempt to make a profit off her again. He lowers his hand back to his knee.]

Alright... [He murmurs, grabbing the collar from the cobblestone and rising to his feet. Ozymandias turns it over in his hands a moment. He would prefer not to leave it here, not for the purposes of insurance so much as he knows it will be used again. He considers it a moment before,] Let's go somewhere quieter. I'll tend to your neck there.

[He walks past her, anticipating that she will follow on her own. As Ozymandias goes, he sets the collar aflame with fire hot enough to also melt the silver, casually tossing in the direction of the man's stall.]

[belligerentwarrior]

[She does follow, less of her own will than she'd like, and Fang utter hates how necessary it is. Her agitation only fuels that wild thirst for violence in her mind, but the compulsion, the imposed need to go somewhere else with this Witch, helped to contain it.]

[Kind of. Ears back, tail whipping, Fang keeps her head low in an attempt to look subdued, but it's undermined by the fact that she can't stop growling.]

[Watching the collar burn, however, is satisfying to no end.]