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

[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.]

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias doesn't glance back at her to be sure she's following. It's less confidence in the compulsion (as he's barely even cognizant of it being a factor of her trailing behind him) and more in that most do not tend to disobey him by virtue of the fact he is the King of Kings. Especially when they have asked for his help, which he does not always give freely.]

[But he knows her, somehow, and she is a fighter. It's enough that he's willing to lend his help at least for a time until she is able to manage herself.]

[That confidence in himself, however, is what keeps most from asking too many questions about why exactly the turnskin trailing behind him is off-leash and growling even if they still gawk when they catch the sound of the low, angry rumbling. Because he does not seem to question her behavior, they think it best to leave it be.]

[It doesn't take long to reach the edges of the market, but it becomes immediately apparent when they've left as it's nearly tangible how much quieter it is on the adjoining streets compared to the heart of the market. Ozymandias leads her down one of the more narrow alleys before coming to a stop.]

This should do...

[Ozymandias doesn't ask for her opinion out loud, but looks down at her expectantly.]

[belligerentwarrior]

[She quietly sits once they're hidden within the reclusive little alley in the mist. It might have been just because Fang was all sorts of irritable for a million different reasons, but something about that expectant look makes her bristle a little, green eyes staring up defiantly.]

[Fang tilts her chin up, offering her neck, cautious to avoid stretching the wounded area any more than necessary. It was a silver wound, so it wouldn't respond well to whatever Ozymandias planned to do... but even taking the edge off would be welcome.]

[fulgency]

[Although he sees the look in her eyes, Ozymandias remains unfazed by it as he crouches in front of her again.]

The healing arts are not my forte, [he warns before he proceeds.]

[Even within a dream like this, it's still not his preferred class of magic. But he holds his hands over the line of raw and burnt skin and muscle, hovering just a hair's breadth above it. As she anticipated, Ozymandias isn't able to do much for the more severe burns, only numbing them after a few seconds of concentration. Parts where the silver managed to only graze in contact with skin, however, are able to heal and stop threatening to crack and tear further with every movement.]

[With that done, Ozymandias lowers his hands and with great reluctance, he admits,]

That's the most I can do for you magic-wise.

[He tilts his head to look once more at the injuries before unhooking and removing his cape. With one swift motion, he tears a strip of cloth from it and lets the rest of it drop to the ground. He wraps it around her neck, needing to make a few loops to use up the whole of the strip. As he's wrapping it, it's likely she's catching both his scent and the scent of sands from a far-off desert on the cloth. He makes it just tight enough to keep her injuries concealed and avoiding any further exposure without putting too much pressure on them either in case the magic wears off any time soon.]

How's that? Too tight or loose?

[belligerentwarrior]

[A desert. It's a scent she knows well, if one different from hers.]

[Honestly, she expected the numbing to be the end of it. Her ears shift slightly forward in surprise when he starts to wrap the injury. The bright fabric's a stark contrast on her dark fur, and it hurts, but... the air also stung the sensitive wound, so Fang disregarded it.]

[Carefully, the jaguar rolls her head to the side, then the other. She barks a chuffing sort of noise—and her ears roll back again in irritation at her failed speech. She didn't hate this form, like some Monsters did; there were times this form felt free and right, but now, with it barring her from words because she couldn't remain calm enough...]

[Fang shakes her head to the question.]

Th—an...k. [It cost her considerable concentration to even manage that, and with mangled sounds, at that. Like this, Fang's voice was lower than it had been at their last meeting, and with a gravelly sort of quality to it. Still, a word was progress.]

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias smiles at her attempt at speech, pleased with his work, being thanked, and that she was trying so hard and fighting through so much even to utter a single word. The voice was different, but there was something of the accent that sounded vaguely familiar to him. Without any doubt, he knows he's crossed paths with this turnskin before.]

Don't thank me too much, [he says, standing back up, giving her a light noogie on the top of her head.] If this weren't a dream, you would owe me a new cape.

[belligerentwarrior]

[She huffs through her nose, rolling her eyes. Fang had plenty of words in response to that, but words were... inconvenient.]

Pr't--y, boy. [She manages, those sounds mangled as well. It's the best she could do as far as making a smart comment about his vanity.]

[fulgency]

[It takes only a second for him to piece together what she's trying to say. Pretty boy.]

[Pretty boy...]

[The words themselves may be mangled, her voice may be a little wrong, but there's only one person who's called him 'pretty boy.' He blinks just once and there's a look of recognition on his face that's almost delighted. Actually, it is a delighted expression as he's somewhat relieved to have finally pieced it together.]

Ah, I know who you are! You're that woman who approached me during that wedding reception, aren't you? [He realizes that may be a little non-specific since there were plenty who approached him, so he waves a hand quickly.] The one who brought me the drink.

[He laughs a little.]

That explains why you were able to fight so fiercely against that man's command. My apologies. I should have recognized you for that alone much sooner.

[belligerentwarrior]

[She nods a confirmation as she lays down, turning slightly to face the mouth of the alley. Simply because it was safer here didn't mean it was safe. And, honestly, between her shifting and the pain she was in and her fading adrenaline, Fang was exhausted.]

[He should have recognized her? Huh. She certainly didn't blame him, but she also didn't see much spirit in bringing someone a cup of punch. It's frustrating, not being able to say as much.]

[That man. The feline's ears sullenly folded back again, tail angrily thumping once against the alley wall. The weariness settling into her is doing well to hold back the blinding rage that the twin moons were feeding.]

[Fang glances back at Ozymandias with a curious look and chirp, doing her damnedest to ask, "What'll you do now?"]

[fulgency]

[Most of Fang's body language is fairly transparent. Much as she had been at the party, she continues to be watchful of her surroundings, staying mindful of who might be coming and going by the mouth of the alley. And her anger towards the other man was also not easily mistaken for anything else. But the chirp is a little more ambiguous.]

You would think with as much time as I have spent in command of sphinxes, I would have a better understanding of feline forms of communication, [he says with a slight laugh. Ozymandias does give the situation a thought for a moment before he thinks out loud more than answers her attempt at a question.] I suppose we should probably stay together at least for a little while. It will be difficult for you to move around the city without running into trouble.

[Whether she's actively inviting it or not.]

Though I suppose if we were to find a collar for you and if you thought you could put on a good enough show, you might have a little more freedom to move on your own without me or another Witch.

[belligerentwarrior]

[Her lip peels back to show a sliver of teeth at the mention of a collar, although Fang's keenly aware of how necessary it was. She'd hated them before, but could tolerate it; now, she could only associate them with her silver-laced one.]

[She'd thought she adapted well to this whole Monster thing, up until this dream. Being a turnskin was hindering her at every possible turn.]

[The jaguar huffs a sigh, a faint growl on the exhale. She considers both of Ozymandias' musings for a moment. Between her exhaustion and the company of an ally, at least, she was calming a little.]

[A paw-hand reaches up to the improvised bandage around her neck.] Show, nnnot. Issue. [The sounds were less mangled, now, if still slow. She lifts her gaze up to the sky; the perpetual fog and dimness obscured the freshly waning twin moons, but Fang knew exactly where they sat.] Moons. Can't... keep calm.

[She'd probably try to tear the throat out of the next handler she saw, regardless of whether it was hers or not. Gods knew she wanted to. Even as angry as she got in the past, it'd hardly been an issue controlling it. But as a Monster...]

St—ay. [Stay together, she means. Green eyes flick back to the mirrobound Witch.] Can stop, me.

[She'd hate it, if it came to that. Fang was never good at being told what to do. It was better than being caught and chained again.]

[fulgency]

You would want me to do that?

[Ozymandias' tone is one less of surprise and more seeking confirmation. Not that it isn't surprising to hear her give consent given how fiercely she fought against her previous handler and the simple fact that is a significant amount of trust to place in someone who is virtually a stranger, but he understands the logic. As gratifying as it might be in the moment both due to the call of the moons and likely her own personal desire for revenge, it would create more problems than it would solve for her. Ozymandias doesn't doubt for a moment that her previous handler meant quite sincerely that he would put her down if he wasn't able to make her someone else's "problem."]

[belligerentwarrior]

[That chuff again, but intentional this time--the note of a bitter laugh. ]

I have, choice? [The jaguar's gaze tilts back to where the moons sat, behind the fog. Her ears flick back and tail lashes. ]

Cannn't hide. [Not since she shifted.] No... where safe. Tired. Hurt. Can't fight.

[Not successfully, anyway. She could resist a strong command for a few seconds before it overwhelmed her, and that's usually all she needed... Until they got restraints on her. As much as she hated to say it...]

Need Witch. [Survival first.]

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias has never been uncomfortable with issuing commands. As one might expect, even before he was named his father's heir, commands were something that came quite naturally and easily to him. Especially when it was always anticipated that his word would be obeyed. But the magic at work here that robs others of their will creates a small amount of discomfort. Ozymandias believes he should be obeyed because of his divine authority, not because of some spell.]

[Knowing how particularly willful she is, how much control over her own life she's had stripped from her already that's led to suffering and great unhappiness... Well, his discomfort is increased by that. Enough that it's given him reason to pause and see if she's truly consenting to him stopping her if she's unable to do so herself. With her consent, however, it lessens. If that is her will, so be it.]

Very well! I will see to it that you don't tear anyone's throats out, but I will not issue any other commands to you.

[Or what he really means is try not to command her in any other way. The longer he's been here, the more careful Ozymandias has become in the way he speaks, but even he cannot monitor his speech endlessly.]

[belligerentwarrior]

[Fang looks to him again, simply... watching. It was her idea, and she knew how necessary it was, so she shouldn't be hesitating. Still, there was a great deal of trust at play here; even if Ozymandias had shown her only good will, freeing her and tending to her silver burn and sheltering her to a degree, Fang had little to reassure herself with, other than "he hasn't betrayed her yet" and "Ursula trusted him." Being virtually powerless was endlessly frustrating.]

[Time to put to the test his claims of being a man of his word, she supposed. The feline inhales and nods, feeling as if she'd just sealed some sort of deal.]

[An ear flicks idly to the side, tracking a distant sound. A bird of some sort, most likely; it did nothing to distract her from Ozymandias.]

What, now? [Fang was at his mercy to move about the city, after all.]