Who: Waver Velvet & whoever When: throughout September Where: Dorchacht (beginning to mid-Sept... ignore the headers) & Aefenglom (late Sept) What: trouble in Dorch, recovering in Aefenglom Warnings: drug use, auction and monster slavery stuff
His name called in a familiar voice breaks through the threat of animal panic clouding his mind, giving Waver something to orient him. He stumbles a little, bumped by the fleeing crowd, but now that he sees Ozymandias, he quickly reaches out in return-- this time without trying to use his claws, thankfully.
His big cloak is an impediment. He tries to gather it closer around his body so it doesn't keep getting snagged, but the whole point of it was to hide, and it's not doing much anymore. Not that anyone is really stopping in the street for an uncollared turnskin in the middle of everything else going on.
Waver tries to grab Ozymandias's wrist to keep from getting separated.
"What- what happened? We should get out of--"
An otherworldly wail from the booth behind them drowns him out. The merrow is trapped, abandoned by her owner and unable to leave the water without being shocked. If whoever set the blasts meant to help these Monsters escape, they've either gotten detained or haven't gotten here yet.
The sound of the merrow's wails is painful to be sure, her own panic and pain becoming almost palpable with such a horrid sound. Ozymandias can't help but glance in her direction, to see if there's anyone helping her. Not yet. Or, at least, Ozymandias hopes it's yet. His brow furrows as his attention snaps back to Waver. Unfortunately, there's nothing he can do for her. Not right now when Waver is just within reach, but also close to being pulled away.
Ozymandias pushes further into the ground and finally manages to get a hold of Waver's hand. Someone bumps into Ozymandias' back, pushing him further into the building stream of people trying to escape the chaos. Not exactly the direction he wanted to move in, but it at least closes some of the distance he has to pull Waver towards himself. Not all that far away, beneath the noise of the panic yells, is the solid thunk of someone hitting the ground and several people subsequently tripping.
"Even if you have to use your claws, don't let go!"
Waver shrinks from the noise, his sharper senses overwhelmed on all fronts, buffeted by the crowds and the shouting, the explosions and the smell of smoke and spilled food and potions-- and, increasingly, blood. The acrid scent of singed flesh.
A young woman carrying a toddler bowls past them, knocking Waver's hand aside momentarily, but he manages to grab onto Ozymandias's wrist right after with only a smarting bruise that won't become apparent until later. Behind him, the shrieking continues. There's smoke rising on the horizon.
His claws lengthen even as Ozymandias tries to shout over the chaos and panic all around them; Waver's grip tightens, fingers curling viciously, digging in as he drags himself closer. The smoke is in his lungs, the blood-scent in his nose, and that persistent, awful screaming--
Waver reaches up with his free hand, using his claws to slash the ties around his throat that keep dragging him back and choking him, letting the cloak fall where it will. It helps. With a solid grip on Ozymandias now and less to impede him, he closes the gap and grabs onto Ozymandias's shirt with his other hand, gripping the hem urgently.
"We have to do something!" The words are nearly garbled by the snarl with which they're delivered, visibly lengthening fangs filling Waver's mouth, his eyes so dark the whites are nearly gone.
He doesn't know what to do. He can't think. He wants to run, claw his way free of all these people, but--
He has too much of a conscience for a mage. Maybe it's part of why he was so bad at it.
Waver shoves his weight forward, pushing Ozymandias backward toward the booth where some monsters are still tied and trapped, and the merrow's screams are waning.
Waver's grip on him as he's trying to reel himself in closer is uncomfortable, to say the least, but Ozymandias grits his teeth and endures it without complaint. Before he can even suggest that Waver rid him of the cloak that's weighing him down, Waver is already in the process of clawing himself free of it. Good, Ozymandias thinks. It's a sensible thing to do.
What's less sensible is Waver giving in to compassion and wanting to save the other Monsters that find themselves still trapped within the booth. Ozymandias tries to dig his heels in to prevent being moved in that direction, but with Waver's turnskin strength in the moment, he can really only at most is maintaining balance as they come to a stop once more. Ozymandias looks over his shoulder at the poor creatures. Even in their own frenzied states of panic, they are sad to bear witness to; not a single one is whole and the malnourishment and mistreatment is marked all along their bodies. But there is little that Waver and Ozymandias can do for them. Looking down at Waver, he doesn't know if he's simply forgotten that or never knew it to begin with. It seems in some ways, the fanciful and romantic notions of childhood have not fully left him.
With the relative safety of the booth and proximity to the monsters diverting most of the crowd, Ozymandias separates himself some from Waver, turning his chin up to look at him instead of the trapped and restrained monsters. Leaning a little closer, Ozymandias scrutinizes Waver's face. Something in Ozymandias' own expression softens after a moment.
"Leave them," he concludes, speaking loud enough to be heard. His voice is not cold, but it is calm. He releases Waver's chin and straightens back up. How unfortunate is it that this boy continues to find himself trapped amid such ugliness that he is simply not meant to be part of? Were there a different sort of look in his eyes, Ozymandias might have pushed him to discover his own means of summoning up courage to truly release them from their suffering. But he hasn't the stomach for it and likely never will; Ozymandias neither faults nor pities him for it. It simply is not who he is meant to be.
But even so, Ozymandaias doesn't offer him false hope with a pretty promise that the Resistance will care for those restrained and trapped at this booth. There is no guarantee of that and looking out over the chaos in the pathways of the bazaar, it seems entirely unlikely. They will be more than likely forgotten by everyone until the chaos clears. And then their lives will be as they've ever been.
Ozymandias is perhaps lucky that Waver is small, and his turnskin abilities still not fully manifested. He's much stronger than he's ever been before, but unless he really puts his back -- and claws -- into it, he probably can't overpower Ozymandias when it comes down to it. Not that he's easy to hold back, though.
Waver bares his fangs when he's grabbed by the chin, ears pinned, trying to pull free. He's frantic, nearly feral, terrified and furious.
When Ozymandias starts pulling him away, the pharaoh is met with wordless snarling at first, then half-formed protestations.
"Stop! They're... they'll--"
Be killed? Be captured again? Or maybe they really will be rescued, maybe whoever set this awful commotion to begin with did it for a good reason, but--
There's a rising surge of yelling voices nearby, some sort of monstrous roar and a burst of magical flares above cutting through the crowds. The words are difficult to make out, but the gist of it is quickly becoming clear: the military is moving in to restore the peace, and even in his state, Waver understands enough about this place to know that won't be pretty.
The reality of the situation crashes down on Waver like a blow, brutal and inescapable: there's nothing they can do. Even if Ozymandias agrees to work with him and the two of them manage to free all the Monsters before the military arrives, many of them are injured or drugged, clearly traumatized, possibly violent. And it's not like it's as simple as cutting their bonds. All of them will need to be led somewhere safe, or they'll be even more likely to get hurt or killed when someone inevitably tries to capture them again. Unless some of them choose to do so first.
Whatever meager help Waver can try to provide now would serve little other purpose aside from assuaging his own pained conscience. And possibly getting himself hurt too.
Ozymandias is right. Gritting his teeth, Waver turns away, his hand still wrapped tight around Ozymandias's wrist trembling. His breathing is catching and uneven, every muscle tense to aching.
Ozymandias didn't expect that it would be easy to pull Waver away from the Monsters behind the booth, which is why he generally ignores all the initial protests both those that come in growls and snarls, and those that come in near-unintelligible speech. He simply keeps them moving as Waver slowly comes to his own conclusions and understanding finally breaks through whatever emotional turmoil is raging inside him. Were there more time, Ozymandias might use it to calm Waver down a little further, but it simply doesn't exist.
Wordlessly, Ozymandias leads them in the opposite direction of the military as it brutally begins restoring the peace. While freedom from the chaos most obviously exists behind their line, it would require crossing said line to get to it. Ozymandias doesn't know how much to trust Waver right now in his near-feral state (never mind how the military themselves might interpret the pair of them making their escape in their absolute response to this chaos), but that seems too high a risk to take right now.
Moving along behind the booths makes things a little simpler. There's at least some space between the front of the stalls and the wares for some semblance of a path, and fewer people attempting to make their way through. But it doesn't last long. Both Resistance's strike and the ensuing panic has destroyed much of the stalls that lay ahead. It would be difficult enough to clamber over by one's self, never mind trying for both of them. He doesn't turn them straight into the crowd, however, stopping at just the edge and looking at Waver.
"It's only one more block if the space between the stalls isn't blocked."
Having finally accepted the reality of the situation, Waver allows Ozymandias to pull him along, maintaining the rough grip on his wrist as they weave through the crowds and away from the sounds of the military Witches and their horrible weaponized Monsters taking over the street behind them. Undoubtedly, they're looking for signs of whoever is responsible for this too-- though of course the general knowledge that it's 'the Resistance' is inescapable. Catching them has clearly been the hard part, and each time something like this happens, it's a new chance for any of their members to be caught and taken care of.
Waver and Ozymandias are pseudo-dignitaries with the proper paperwork, sure, but it likely won't look great for them to be caught up in this. And more than that, Waver is painfully aware how close he is to losing control; that's the opposite of what they're supposed to be modeling here.
So he shuts up, puts up, and focuses inward. With Ozymandias leading, all he has to worry about is keeping enough of a check on his emotions to keep himself from slipping. It's alarmingly difficult, especially without either of his Bonded nearby. Maybe it's the many spells woven into the wall, something about Dorchacht itself or maybe just the distance, but his Bonds don't feel quite as firm and clear as they should. Or, quite possibly, he's just that upset.
Waver looks up when Ozymandias stops them, then out over the mess of broken stalls and spilled goods. He nods. They can make their way through. And, hopefully, they can make it out from that side without having to encounter any of the militarized Monsters stopping people in the street.
Ozymandias takes this next part with Waver a little slower than what preceded it. Although the sense of urgency has not at all lessened, there's really no telling what has been released with the spilling and breaking of various goods. It seems better and wiser to tread a little slower and carefully. He's also being mindful of Waver, too. He's quiet now and he's cooperating, but that doesn't mean much as far as avoiding a slip as far as Ozymandias is concerned. The less Waver has to do or think right now, he assumes it to be for the better. Ozymandias moves ahead to test the way forward, trying to take account the differences in their stride and size as much as possible.
After enough clambering around, they make it through the ruined booths. Just as before the explosion, there are crates taller than Ozymandias, but their stacks have since been toppled. Lower crates merely lay on their sides, but those higher up smashed into one another and topped on either side of the barricade created by the magical gusts. Ozymandias finds a space with a little less broken glass and no sign of unknown liquids or unidentifiable bits. Looking at the crates, he might be able to get up by himself if he can get enough of a grip on the edge of one. What's less of a question is whether or not Waver will be able to.
He decides very quickly that if unable to get up there on his own, he will simply have to seek another path out of the market. But Waver should not pass up on this opportunity to put distance between himself and this place when one is so easily within reach.
"I'll give you a boost," he says, beginning to tug in a nonverbal cue for Waver to release his wrist finally.
It seems Waver has calmed a little, at least enough to know he shouldn't fight back anymore, and that they need to get out of here as quickly and discreetly as possible. He follows without argument and though he retains his grip on Ozymandias firmly enough to keep from getting separated, his claws aren't digging in anymore. The scents of blood and fire already mix in the air. Adding to that sparks a pang of guilt, but there's no point in worrying about Ozymandias's scratches now.
Waver lets go when his witch companion tugs, unfurling his bloody fingers and reaching for a sturdy-looking piece of wood jutting out of a splintered overhang above.
"Will you be able to climb up on your own?" Waver makes sure, though he's already moving to accept Ozymandias's help up.
It's not really answering the question Waver asked, but it's no less honest. Whether or not he's able to climb up after Waver doesn't particularly matter. He will find his own way out of this if need be; it's more important that Waver makes it out. He leaves little room for Waver to attempt clarification or argument, however, and gives him the needed boost to get up himself. Ozymandias stays put and close by in case Waver slips while hauling himself up the rest of the way. Once he's securely up, Ozymandias moves a little further down to find something that should be capable of handling his own weight as he climbs up. He doesn't, however, want to keep Waver waiting or hanging back.
With a grunt, Waver hauls himself up as Ozymandias lifts him, claws hooking onto scraps of junk and some tarp from what used to be the makeshift roof above a merchant's booth. His enhanced strength helps him, considering he generally has no upper body strength to speak of, but it's a bit of a scramble still.
He makes it, though, without too much trouble. Waver looks back, hesitating at the top.
"...okay." He doesn't look happy about it, but Waver nods and doesn't try to argue in this case.
As Waver jumps down to the other side, Ozymandias sighs in quiet relief. Given Waver's reaction to the restrained Monsters, he was prepared for an argument. Hence his continued pushing Waver right along rather than giving him room to think at any great length about what he was being told to do.
Sparing no glance in the direction of the approaching shouts and the wails and shrieks of Monsters, Ozymandias finds a spot and takes a few steps back. With a bit of a running start, he's able to pull himself up in more or less a smooth motion. The only falter is when he has to put some weight into his bruised wrist. For the most part, the throbs of pain from Waver's grip and claws are relatively easy to ignore with something else to focus on. But needing to use it takes the throb and brings it into sharp focus. There's no time to worry about it, however, and he's quick to get to his feet, spot a safe place to jump down, and make it back down onto the ground.
Despite his emotional outbursts when things bubble over, and in spite of his current form, Waver is still a mage. He tries to be practical. He isn't that reckless and stupid -- not in general, at least. He understands there's nothing they can do. He understands that focusing on that to the point of upsetting himself into losing control of his animal instincts would be a mistake they can't afford right now.
It doesn't make it easier.
Listening to the sounds of Ozymandias scrambling over the blockade as the screams and shouts draw closer, Waver waits anxiously on the other side, watching the way splintered wood and lopsided crates shift under Ozymandias's weight to gauge his progress. When he finally jumps down to join Waver, the turnskin instinctively rushes back over to his side, ears down and jaw tight. When he looks up searchingly, it's clear he's relying on Ozymandias to keep leading; they're safer, but not clear.
Ozymandias had hoped that Waver would have continued on without him, but he's not actually all that surprised to find the turnskin still lingering nearby and waiting for him to truly follow. He imagines it's far easier to expend whatever energy necessary to keep himself calm with someone else nearby he can trust just enough to lead him to safety. If there truly is any safety to be found in this city at any rate.
He places a hand briefly on Waver's shoulder before taking the lead again and trusting him to follow. The side street is a straight shot before it meets up with a typically busier street. Typically because the moment all the nearby commotion started, people started to clear out this street just as quickly though with significantly less panic than those in the market proper. When they get to the mouth of the alley, Ozymandias pauses, holding an arm out at chest level for Waver to similarly pause. It seems the military is relying on a pincer to trap the Resistance in the middle of the market with more forces beginning to funnel into the end opposite where they've already started attempting to regain control of the situation. They are still, however, a ways off from Ozymandias and Waver, and so, he begins leading Waver out of the alley and across the street to move to the next alleyway. He places a hand at Waver's back, keeping him moving at a quick pace and moving straight ahead, judging it better to not move further up the street.
The touch, though brief, reassures him. Ozymandias's thinking is correct, though Waver hasn't had the chance to examine it in his own mind: it's a relief to be able to rely on him, to only have to keep track of him and follow rather than having to navigate all this on his own, with the overwhelming sounds and smells and worry. His instincts tell him to run or fight, but there is also the instinct to follow. Protect. Not that he's doing much protecting right now, but in a way it's easier, with the beast snarling inside his head, to lean into the feeling. It's not a conscious decision.
Waver pauses when Ozymandias does and makes no attempt to keep running, no argument. He's not even looking out onto the street; after getting a look at why they stopped, he turns his face back up, watching Ozymandias.
And then they're moving again. He keeps up, though he has to move faster at his stature, focus narrowing on Ozymandias's hand on his back leading him along.
They're easily caught up in the crowd vacating the street, thinning though it is. Like this, they look like they 'fit in' too -- a Witch with his pet, perhaps, and no one pays attention to them long enough to notice any inconsistencies in the immediate likely assumption.
With everyone focused on clearing out and no obvious suspicions about who might be leaving the streets closest to the market, they're able to put a fair amount of distance behind them relatively quick. The further they get, the slower Ozymandias allows their pace to become until he feels it's safe to stop both in terms of the military presence and Waver's grip on the rational portion of his mind.
The distance is a relief, and when Ozymandias finally slows them down, Waver's heartbeat slows too. He still looks on high alert, ears up and tail rigid, fangs longer than they should have been, but his eyes are clear. Just faintly... haunted.
He shakes his head.
"No." Not really. A few bruises, one already forming around his pale throat where the cloak had dragged and pulled across it, but no real damage. He cut it before it could actually bruise deeper, too, so he's perfectly all right physically. Shaken, but not injured.
"But..."
Waver looks down guiltily at Ozymandias's wrist. His fingers curl into loose fists as if to hide his claws.
Because Waver looks so pointedly at his wrist, Ozymandias lifts the injured wrist and spares it a passing glance. It's beginning to ache somewhat now with less to distract from it, but he's suffered far worse injuries than this. Thus, it is only a glance rather than any sort of inspection of just how deeply Waver's claws managed to dig.
He shakes his head, dismissing the apology altogether.
"You did well to do as I commanded without question." Looking Waver over for a moment longer just to be sure there are really no injuries he's attempting to hide from Ozymandias... He wraps his uninjured arm tightly around Waver's shoulders with a quiet sigh. "You are not my vassal, but I would not have any harm befall you. I am glad you are unharmed."
Waver's too distraught and emotionally exhausted to even pretend he doesn't want the hug. He stays there, when Ozymandias wraps an arm around him, leaning into his chest and pressing close for a few moments.
"I'm fine," he repeats flatly, and doesn't mean it. Physically, it's true enough. It could have been much worse.
But his thoughts linger on the Monsters they'd left behind, trapped and tied up at the mercy of falling debris or fire or worse. He feels sick.
Ozymandias doesn't really believe Waver when he says he's fine, at least not beyond the physical sense of it, but he doesn't challenge the claim.
"I know."
Ozymandias speaks quietly to acknowledge what Waver is likely thinking but not saying, rubbing at Waver's arm a little. It doesn't need to be said for Ozymandias to take a guess; the former mage's heart is simply far too gentle for certain ugly realities.
He feels like an idiot. Logically, Waver knows there really was no other option, and they only would have gotten hurt or further caught up in the mess of the riot. He knows they weren't equipped to help those people, if they even could have figured out how to free them from the bonds that very likely had enchantments attached. He knows all that, but it still makes his stomach twist in on itself, brings a bad taste to the back of his tongue.
He sighs, gently pulling back from Ozymandias after a few more moments of indulging in the comfort of his warmth.
Ozymandias allows Waver to pull away when he's ready, letting his arm drift down his back and then away. He passes no judgment on him for seeking out the warmth or for his discomfort with the decision that had to be made.
"I would not have said it if it weren't true," he says with a nod, his attention turning back to the injuries at his wrist. By now, the claw marks have stopped bleeding, leaving behind dried streaks on his arm. "It looks worse than it is, I assure you, but I will see to it that it is tended to."
Waver just stands there awkwardly for another moment, looking absolutely miserable, but there's nothing to be done. He already apologized. He already accepted (or, rather, is trying to accept) that running was the best and only actually sound decision. What else is there to do?
His ears swivel, tracking the sounds of shouts in the distance. He swallows.
"...let's head back to the Coven, then."
To get Ozymandias taken care of, presumably. Waver just doesn't want to walk alone.
If there was something Ozymandias might be able to do that would ease Waver's heart, he thinks that he would do it. But there is simply nothing that can be done. Waver must find a way to set aside whatever guilt he is carrying with him and focus his attention on the present. Or perhaps the future. With the way Waver's ear swivels in the direction of the riot, Ozymandias tries to keep his attention here with him by placing a hand on top of his head. No roughhousing or petting as he otherwise might. Just a quiet reminder that he is here and he is not alone.
"And then let us find Iskandar. I am sure he will be relieved to see you for himself by the time word about the market reaches him."
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His big cloak is an impediment. He tries to gather it closer around his body so it doesn't keep getting snagged, but the whole point of it was to hide, and it's not doing much anymore. Not that anyone is really stopping in the street for an uncollared turnskin in the middle of everything else going on.
Waver tries to grab Ozymandias's wrist to keep from getting separated.
"What- what happened? We should get out of--"
An otherworldly wail from the booth behind them drowns him out. The merrow is trapped, abandoned by her owner and unable to leave the water without being shocked. If whoever set the blasts meant to help these Monsters escape, they've either gotten detained or haven't gotten here yet.
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Ozymandias pushes further into the ground and finally manages to get a hold of Waver's hand. Someone bumps into Ozymandias' back, pushing him further into the building stream of people trying to escape the chaos. Not exactly the direction he wanted to move in, but it at least closes some of the distance he has to pull Waver towards himself. Not all that far away, beneath the noise of the panic yells, is the solid thunk of someone hitting the ground and several people subsequently tripping.
"Even if you have to use your claws, don't let go!"
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A young woman carrying a toddler bowls past them, knocking Waver's hand aside momentarily, but he manages to grab onto Ozymandias's wrist right after with only a smarting bruise that won't become apparent until later. Behind him, the shrieking continues. There's smoke rising on the horizon.
His claws lengthen even as Ozymandias tries to shout over the chaos and panic all around them; Waver's grip tightens, fingers curling viciously, digging in as he drags himself closer. The smoke is in his lungs, the blood-scent in his nose, and that persistent, awful screaming--
Waver reaches up with his free hand, using his claws to slash the ties around his throat that keep dragging him back and choking him, letting the cloak fall where it will. It helps. With a solid grip on Ozymandias now and less to impede him, he closes the gap and grabs onto Ozymandias's shirt with his other hand, gripping the hem urgently.
"We have to do something!" The words are nearly garbled by the snarl with which they're delivered, visibly lengthening fangs filling Waver's mouth, his eyes so dark the whites are nearly gone.
He doesn't know what to do. He can't think. He wants to run, claw his way free of all these people, but--
He has too much of a conscience for a mage. Maybe it's part of why he was so bad at it.
Waver shoves his weight forward, pushing Ozymandias backward toward the booth where some monsters are still tied and trapped, and the merrow's screams are waning.
What the hell is the Resistance doing?
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What's less sensible is Waver giving in to compassion and wanting to save the other Monsters that find themselves still trapped within the booth. Ozymandias tries to dig his heels in to prevent being moved in that direction, but with Waver's turnskin strength in the moment, he can really only at most is maintaining balance as they come to a stop once more. Ozymandias looks over his shoulder at the poor creatures. Even in their own frenzied states of panic, they are sad to bear witness to; not a single one is whole and the malnourishment and mistreatment is marked all along their bodies. But there is little that Waver and Ozymandias can do for them. Looking down at Waver, he doesn't know if he's simply forgotten that or never knew it to begin with. It seems in some ways, the fanciful and romantic notions of childhood have not fully left him.
With the relative safety of the booth and proximity to the monsters diverting most of the crowd, Ozymandias separates himself some from Waver, turning his chin up to look at him instead of the trapped and restrained monsters. Leaning a little closer, Ozymandias scrutinizes Waver's face. Something in Ozymandias' own expression softens after a moment.
"Leave them," he concludes, speaking loud enough to be heard. His voice is not cold, but it is calm. He releases Waver's chin and straightens back up. How unfortunate is it that this boy continues to find himself trapped amid such ugliness that he is simply not meant to be part of? Were there a different sort of look in his eyes, Ozymandias might have pushed him to discover his own means of summoning up courage to truly release them from their suffering. But he hasn't the stomach for it and likely never will; Ozymandias neither faults nor pities him for it. It simply is not who he is meant to be.
But even so, Ozymandaias doesn't offer him false hope with a pretty promise that the Resistance will care for those restrained and trapped at this booth. There is no guarantee of that and looking out over the chaos in the pathways of the bazaar, it seems entirely unlikely. They will be more than likely forgotten by everyone until the chaos clears. And then their lives will be as they've ever been.
He begins pulling Waver away.
"We need to go!"
no subject
Waver bares his fangs when he's grabbed by the chin, ears pinned, trying to pull free. He's frantic, nearly feral, terrified and furious.
When Ozymandias starts pulling him away, the pharaoh is met with wordless snarling at first, then half-formed protestations.
"Stop! They're... they'll--"
Be killed? Be captured again? Or maybe they really will be rescued, maybe whoever set this awful commotion to begin with did it for a good reason, but--
There's a rising surge of yelling voices nearby, some sort of monstrous roar and a burst of magical flares above cutting through the crowds. The words are difficult to make out, but the gist of it is quickly becoming clear: the military is moving in to restore the peace, and even in his state, Waver understands enough about this place to know that won't be pretty.
The reality of the situation crashes down on Waver like a blow, brutal and inescapable: there's nothing they can do. Even if Ozymandias agrees to work with him and the two of them manage to free all the Monsters before the military arrives, many of them are injured or drugged, clearly traumatized, possibly violent. And it's not like it's as simple as cutting their bonds. All of them will need to be led somewhere safe, or they'll be even more likely to get hurt or killed when someone inevitably tries to capture them again. Unless some of them choose to do so first.
Whatever meager help Waver can try to provide now would serve little other purpose aside from assuaging his own pained conscience. And possibly getting himself hurt too.
Ozymandias is right. Gritting his teeth, Waver turns away, his hand still wrapped tight around Ozymandias's wrist trembling. His breathing is catching and uneven, every muscle tense to aching.
"...fine."
It's time to leave. And fast.
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Wordlessly, Ozymandias leads them in the opposite direction of the military as it brutally begins restoring the peace. While freedom from the chaos most obviously exists behind their line, it would require crossing said line to get to it. Ozymandias doesn't know how much to trust Waver right now in his near-feral state (never mind how the military themselves might interpret the pair of them making their escape in their absolute response to this chaos), but that seems too high a risk to take right now.
Moving along behind the booths makes things a little simpler. There's at least some space between the front of the stalls and the wares for some semblance of a path, and fewer people attempting to make their way through. But it doesn't last long. Both Resistance's strike and the ensuing panic has destroyed much of the stalls that lay ahead. It would be difficult enough to clamber over by one's self, never mind trying for both of them. He doesn't turn them straight into the crowd, however, stopping at just the edge and looking at Waver.
"It's only one more block if the space between the stalls isn't blocked."
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Waver and Ozymandias are pseudo-dignitaries with the proper paperwork, sure, but it likely won't look great for them to be caught up in this. And more than that, Waver is painfully aware how close he is to losing control; that's the opposite of what they're supposed to be modeling here.
So he shuts up, puts up, and focuses inward. With Ozymandias leading, all he has to worry about is keeping enough of a check on his emotions to keep himself from slipping. It's alarmingly difficult, especially without either of his Bonded nearby. Maybe it's the many spells woven into the wall, something about Dorchacht itself or maybe just the distance, but his Bonds don't feel quite as firm and clear as they should. Or, quite possibly, he's just that upset.
Waver looks up when Ozymandias stops them, then out over the mess of broken stalls and spilled goods. He nods. They can make their way through. And, hopefully, they can make it out from that side without having to encounter any of the militarized Monsters stopping people in the street.
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After enough clambering around, they make it through the ruined booths. Just as before the explosion, there are crates taller than Ozymandias, but their stacks have since been toppled. Lower crates merely lay on their sides, but those higher up smashed into one another and topped on either side of the barricade created by the magical gusts. Ozymandias finds a space with a little less broken glass and no sign of unknown liquids or unidentifiable bits. Looking at the crates, he might be able to get up by himself if he can get enough of a grip on the edge of one. What's less of a question is whether or not Waver will be able to.
He decides very quickly that if unable to get up there on his own, he will simply have to seek another path out of the market. But Waver should not pass up on this opportunity to put distance between himself and this place when one is so easily within reach.
"I'll give you a boost," he says, beginning to tug in a nonverbal cue for Waver to release his wrist finally.
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Waver lets go when his witch companion tugs, unfurling his bloody fingers and reaching for a sturdy-looking piece of wood jutting out of a splintered overhang above.
"Will you be able to climb up on your own?" Waver makes sure, though he's already moving to accept Ozymandias's help up.
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It's not really answering the question Waver asked, but it's no less honest. Whether or not he's able to climb up after Waver doesn't particularly matter. He will find his own way out of this if need be; it's more important that Waver makes it out. He leaves little room for Waver to attempt clarification or argument, however, and gives him the needed boost to get up himself. Ozymandias stays put and close by in case Waver slips while hauling himself up the rest of the way. Once he's securely up, Ozymandias moves a little further down to find something that should be capable of handling his own weight as he climbs up. He doesn't, however, want to keep Waver waiting or hanging back.
"Go, I'll be right behind you."
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He makes it, though, without too much trouble. Waver looks back, hesitating at the top.
"...okay." He doesn't look happy about it, but Waver nods and doesn't try to argue in this case.
He can hear the shouts getting closer. He jumps.
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Sparing no glance in the direction of the approaching shouts and the wails and shrieks of Monsters, Ozymandias finds a spot and takes a few steps back. With a bit of a running start, he's able to pull himself up in more or less a smooth motion. The only falter is when he has to put some weight into his bruised wrist. For the most part, the throbs of pain from Waver's grip and claws are relatively easy to ignore with something else to focus on. But needing to use it takes the throb and brings it into sharp focus. There's no time to worry about it, however, and he's quick to get to his feet, spot a safe place to jump down, and make it back down onto the ground.
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It doesn't make it easier.
Listening to the sounds of Ozymandias scrambling over the blockade as the screams and shouts draw closer, Waver waits anxiously on the other side, watching the way splintered wood and lopsided crates shift under Ozymandias's weight to gauge his progress. When he finally jumps down to join Waver, the turnskin instinctively rushes back over to his side, ears down and jaw tight. When he looks up searchingly, it's clear he's relying on Ozymandias to keep leading; they're safer, but not clear.
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He places a hand briefly on Waver's shoulder before taking the lead again and trusting him to follow. The side street is a straight shot before it meets up with a typically busier street. Typically because the moment all the nearby commotion started, people started to clear out this street just as quickly though with significantly less panic than those in the market proper. When they get to the mouth of the alley, Ozymandias pauses, holding an arm out at chest level for Waver to similarly pause. It seems the military is relying on a pincer to trap the Resistance in the middle of the market with more forces beginning to funnel into the end opposite where they've already started attempting to regain control of the situation. They are still, however, a ways off from Ozymandias and Waver, and so, he begins leading Waver out of the alley and across the street to move to the next alleyway. He places a hand at Waver's back, keeping him moving at a quick pace and moving straight ahead, judging it better to not move further up the street.
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Waver pauses when Ozymandias does and makes no attempt to keep running, no argument. He's not even looking out onto the street; after getting a look at why they stopped, he turns his face back up, watching Ozymandias.
And then they're moving again. He keeps up, though he has to move faster at his stature, focus narrowing on Ozymandias's hand on his back leading him along.
They're easily caught up in the crowd vacating the street, thinning though it is. Like this, they look like they 'fit in' too -- a Witch with his pet, perhaps, and no one pays attention to them long enough to notice any inconsistencies in the immediate likely assumption.
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"Are you hurt?"
The crowd wasn't exactly gentle with Waver.
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He shakes his head.
"No." Not really. A few bruises, one already forming around his pale throat where the cloak had dragged and pulled across it, but no real damage. He cut it before it could actually bruise deeper, too, so he's perfectly all right physically. Shaken, but not injured.
"But..."
Waver looks down guiltily at Ozymandias's wrist. His fingers curl into loose fists as if to hide his claws.
"Sorry."
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He shakes his head, dismissing the apology altogether.
"You did well to do as I commanded without question." Looking Waver over for a moment longer just to be sure there are really no injuries he's attempting to hide from Ozymandias... He wraps his uninjured arm tightly around Waver's shoulders with a quiet sigh. "You are not my vassal, but I would not have any harm befall you. I am glad you are unharmed."
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"I'm fine," he repeats flatly, and doesn't mean it. Physically, it's true enough. It could have been much worse.
But his thoughts linger on the Monsters they'd left behind, trapped and tied up at the mercy of falling debris or fire or worse. He feels sick.
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"I know."
Ozymandias speaks quietly to acknowledge what Waver is likely thinking but not saying, rubbing at Waver's arm a little. It doesn't need to be said for Ozymandias to take a guess; the former mage's heart is simply far too gentle for certain ugly realities.
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He sighs, gently pulling back from Ozymandias after a few more moments of indulging in the comfort of his warmth.
"You sure your hand's okay?"
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"I would not have said it if it weren't true," he says with a nod, his attention turning back to the injuries at his wrist. By now, the claw marks have stopped bleeding, leaving behind dried streaks on his arm. "It looks worse than it is, I assure you, but I will see to it that it is tended to."
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Waver just stands there awkwardly for another moment, looking absolutely miserable, but there's nothing to be done. He already apologized. He already accepted (or, rather, is trying to accept) that running was the best and only actually sound decision. What else is there to do?
His ears swivel, tracking the sounds of shouts in the distance. He swallows.
"...let's head back to the Coven, then."
To get Ozymandias taken care of, presumably. Waver just doesn't want to walk alone.
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"And then let us find Iskandar. I am sure he will be relieved to see you for himself by the time word about the market reaches him."
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"Yeah. That sounds good."
A pause, his gaze dropping away again uncomfortably.
"...thanks."
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