Give the Dog a Bone

[Woe]

A few days past,

Lobo Cinzento

set out from Egilrun to check on his state of affairs at Almund. He wondered if Balthazar had made good use of and secured the Bones, or if he'd let it fall by the wayside, never checking his mail. Perhaps Lobo had been foolhardy entrusting it to another, even if that other happened to be reliable for protection. Yet as he approached the alley, he saw no patrols of Black Cats, at least none that he could see.

He proceeded in his

shadow-merged

wolf totem, retracting the wings and horns of Kuvarakh's effigy, so that he would just look like another dark-furred mongrel wandering the streets for scraps. His fur was clearly matted and sickly. Woe cast an

illusion

upon the shadow that covered his form to make it appear so. People were far less likely to approach a large hound with obvious defects and illness. The

poison blood

running through his veins further sold the sickly appearance, as he half-limped as he approached the street where his old haunt was.

They weren't far from the Widow's Lament mercenary company's old haunt of Bel Alley. Lobo specifically chose it for the proximity to Gulliver's old troupe, as it was a convenient cover to engage in mercenary work under an assumed identity, back when things were a little more simple. Before he was made Egg, and saddled with responsibilities official over those that were self-imposed. The wolf crept up upon the corner of Bel Alley and the unnamed street which the Bones sank into. The entrance to the catacombs was still nearby, but Lobo didn't wish to delve that way. He wanted to see what was happening at the Bones, if it still ran as a business, and moreover how

Lacrima

was getting along.

He crept across the threshold, and peered inside, cloaking himself in shadow as he watched Lacrima giving a reading to some man.

The brute spoke in broken common, Scalveen likely being his main language. "Whatcher mean there's nothing else! I'm lookin fer answers, Lady!"

Lacrima murmured something, that even Lobo could scarcely catch with his sharp ears. Perhaps it was just incomprehensible? He couldn't understand what she'd said.

"Speak up!" The man demanded, and Lobo couldn't help the snarl that brought to his lips.

Lobo by then was already on his haunches, and ready to spring into action to bring a bit of humility to this man. Breen lingered nearby, emerging from the Beneath to speak to the wolf. Egil alighted to a nearby terrace, squawking at nothing in particular as he landed. Breen warned Lobo, "I feel a sad man following you." This gave Lobo pause, as he perked his ears back, listening for any approach in that direction.

[Balthazar Black]

65 Ymiden 724

Balthazar never set out to become a part of the fortune telling business but an old friend had forced him into such a role. Friend. It was an odd word in relation to Woe. How often did they find themselves at odds on personal moral matters? Maybe more importantly, how often did they find themselves on the same side when it came to saving the many? Balthazar felt Woe defied the perception of a friend. Their bond was something else. Something more or less. Brotherhood? No. Perhaps not. Balthazar couldn't know something he'd never had before.

Regardless of where their alliance stood, Balthazar took the stewardship of The Bones seriously. He'd uncovered great horrors a season prior and he didn't intend to allow Woe's family to befall a similar fate. As Officer of Bars, he had reason on his side if he ever had to justify leaving an extra Black Cat or two around to protect Woe's abandoned investment and... the woman. Beyond securing those who worked there, Balthazar had left the fortune teller to her own business as much as he could. One or two visits every ten-trials helped him feel like he was doing enough to protect her. Whether Woe felt the same or not, Balthazar sought to avoid letting anyone feel the pain he had when Elisabeth disappeared... and the pain that followed every morning after.

On the trial that Lobo came around there were no clear Black Cat patrols because Balthazar himself was on the way to visit The Bones again. He never left patrols where he would be. Their organization was small in number and their focus was better used on other things if Balthazar could be present.

The mage wore his paradigm ring to stifle the magic within himself. His natural senses would be more than enough for him in this place and the ring provided a unique advantage which most didn't consider. With his mutations and witch marks washed away, Balthazar Black did not look a lot like the Balthazar Black that most people would have heard stories about. It let him pass through Bel Alley without drawing any attention.

He noticed the dark mongrel as he approached the Bones but thought little of it. Without his attunement spark to prod and pry, the beast seemed to be mundane. Balthazar didn't pay enough attention to pluck out the small details betraying the beast's true identity. Breen might have been a fairly clear indicator though. In the doorway, Balthazar could hear the commotion further inside where Lacrima was giving a reading. He clapped his hands together, creating as loud a noise as he could without a little magic.

"Mind yourself!" Balthazar shouted into the building. "Reading the future is not easy on the mind or body. You do yourself no credit by becoming enraged."

[Woe]

As his ears flipped back, he heard footfalls in a familiar pattern falling on the cobbles leading up to the Bones. The dog slipped inside, and as Lacrima began to have tremors in her hand, The wolf that referred to himself as Master Gray, sidled up next to her as a favored canine might to their master. He sent a short hello to Lacrima to inform her that it was indeed who he was.

Comforted by his presence, she laid a hand on his head. This contact was all that was needed to impart her with courage, whilst he beggan conuring the aesthete needed for his follow-up gambit. He wanted this man gone but not necessarily by shredding his body. Although that would've satisfied his bloodlust as a wolf, certainly.

The man insisted, and then Balthazar, of all the people Master Gray was expecting, it hadn't been him. He sent a message to Balthazar through a wink of the wolf's eye, You may want to hold our breath a moment. He said to warn the paradigmed mage. Of course, Woe thought he'd seen him paradigmed before, from when he'd caught glimpses of the mage during his trial so many arcs ago, when Woe was rendering his own testiomony to investigators.

Master Gray waited on his haunches, Lacrima's hand on his head, drawing courage from him, while Breen crept near to the threshold, by Balthazar.The mage, being marked by the Immortal of Sorrow, would recognize the sorrow spirit for who and what it was.

Breen spoke to Balthazar's through their mutual connection to Sorrow, Hello there. Or perhaps he'd always been able to speak to those who are marked. Either way, the words were sent.

Breen did a lean on Balthazar's leg, to eiher calm or discourage him from moving further. He also drank in the sorrow, taking away some of the mage's ambient sadness. It made Breen feel stronger. So intensifying the lean.

Master Gray, meanwhile, began huffing and puffing, as the patron wasn't getting any less agitated by the appearance of Balthazar. In fact, the intimidation made him even more off balancecd. Yet that could be turned to either Master Gray or Balthazar's advantage. The brutish patron wasn't taking well to the mutual intimidation of the wolf or the mercenary.

Finally, Gray let out his breath in a terrifying mist which caused those caught in it to experience their worst fears. Balthazar was spared from it, as Gray had absolute control of where the mist spread, and he didn't want to know how the mage would react to being exposed to his deepest held fears.

The brute, meanwhile, seemed to think he was cornered. This was not the intended outcome for Gray, and a cornered opponent would often lash out as this one attempted to do, turning around and throwing a punch at the paradigmed mage.

Master Gray stepped in at that point, latching his jaws around the brute's ankle, pinning him in place. Breen meanwhile waited for Balthazar to make a move before performing his own, whining at the doorway as the violence ensued.

[Balthazar Black]

65 Ymiden 724

Breen. That was a familiar spirit. Balthazar knew now that the second wolf Lacrima had at her side was not entirely what it seemed but he made no accusations or indications of such. The spirit seemed more able to communicate with Balthazar than he recalled but he didn't mind. He looked down at Breen and gave a small nod to indicate that he wouldn't move further... yet. He wouldn't stand by if harm was caused. He wouldn't wait till someone's life was on the line. He could move faster than almost anyone he knew. If he could stop bloodshed, he would. All bloodshed, not just Lacrima's.

He could feel Breen draining the sorrow from him but like the cursed man on the mountain, Balthazar was almost an endless fountain of sorrow. Even with the few steps he'd made towards remedying the feeling. Elisabeth was still gone. Advice felt like words. He was still alone... apart from the family of Black Cats he had built and would continue to build.

Balthazar saw the mist began to spread and in anticipation of if coming towards him, because he couldn't know that Master Gray had control over where it spread, Balthazar reached into his bag and put on a necklace comprised of various glass beads. He tapped one and a bubble of clean air appeared around his head to protect him from the mist while still allowing him to breathe freely. He wasn't sure what the mist was but he saw where it came from and he knew better than to breathe it in. The angry patron didn't have that same wisdom. Feeling cornered, he turned and took a swing at Balthazar.

Ha.

And that was where it all went wrong. Balthazar assumed he wouldn't be affected by the mist because he had a bubble of air around his head. He'd walked under water with it, how bad could mist have been? However the mist wasn't something that needed to be inhaled. It was something that took effect as soon as it touched you. It seemed to dig beneath your skin and burrow there where it could hurt your mind the most.

Balthazar knew fear. He wouldn't consider anyone who didn't know fear to be even remotely brave. The problem was that his life had exposed him to so much that it was difficult for a single fear to rise above the rest. He was certain if he spent long enough in the mist, he'd see Elisabeth. Something about her. He wasn't sure what but he knew his fears about what might have happened to her were eventually going to take over. Little things like death and pain were not what scared him... but his body didn't know that.

In the moment, all of his fears manifested physically. His body tensed. His eyes widened. His heart quickened. He did what he always did when he was afraid. He did what many people did when they were afraid. He did what the loud patron had done. He attacked. His arm first shot out to strike a specter from his past that only he could see. It caught wind and nothing else. His second shot took the patron to the floor.

Balthazar wouldn't consider it a fight. It was more like putting an angry child in time out. The sealed spark mage caught the incoming fist with his own hand and gave the wild look. He didn't seem to be a man in the moment. He was a monster. A memory. A pain withheld that was now exposed. He followed up with two strikes at an almost imperceptible speed. The first hit the patron on his extended arm's tricep and Balthazar released the fist he was holding after. The arm began to fall, entirely limp. The second strike was more of a sharp prod and it hit the man on the side of his head, knocking him to the floor and rendering him entirely unconscious.

Balthazar looked down at the fallen foe for a moment before backing out of the mist and looking to Lacrima and Master Gray. "What is that?" Balthazar demanded. He didn't ask. He wanted to know what had breached his fairly reliable defenses. His hands were still raised. He might lash out again if the effect didn't pass. "What is it!"

[Woe]

It's nothing. Balthazar would feel the meaning of the words, filter in through his subconscious, as Gray let the mist retract from Balthazar's form, and that of the fallen customer. Thus the fear was no longer having sway, and would be dispelled. Meanwhile, Lacrima was absolutely serene, gifted fearlessness of Kuvarakh by the touch of Gray's snoot. It's just fear, let it go, friend.

This said, Breen began rubbing up against Balthazar's leg, trying to soothe him with his own spiritual gifts of emotional healing, to absorb his sorrow fear or whatever else came out of the aftermath of his sudden terror.

Thank you for being here. It might not have gone as smoothly if I'd been forced to clamp teeth on his ankle. Gray sent the thought sincerely. It would feel perhaps strange to Balthazar, recognizing the meaning of words without hearing them, either in his head or on the air. Just the pure meaning transferred from being to being.

Gray had not yet mastered the becoming technique of echo, and so relied heavily on his ability to communicate without speaking. I am Gray. The dog sent to him. As Lacrima continued to pat him between the ears.

Why did you come here? Checking in, or do you have business with my friends?

The charade was a bit tiring, and perhaps Balthazar would see through it soon if he didn't already. Gray was used to putting people through such social and ethical puzzles, and he couldn't resist the urge here either. He'd wait for Balthazar to make the first gesture of outreach, however, toward understanding.