| Logs |
2011 December 11
| Neverneverwhere |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Taps Logs |
Howlin' Around Your Kitchen Door
Not long after the caravan has settled for the night, the guards around the encampment start to notice the first signs that the camp is being watched. This in itself isn't all that unusual. In many small towns, the youngsters and the occasional adventuresome (or misguided) adult will slip off after dinnertime to come explore the caravan. Some come just because they're fascinated, some come expecting fortune telling (which Sabrina will sometimes provide), or prostitutes of a different sort than Hetaerae. What is a bit different is the way the villagers stay out of sight so carefully at first -- and when they do begin to let themselves be seen, the caravan guards can see that several of the villagers are accompanied by what seem to be some very large dogs.
Chanticleer's concern ratchets up immediately. For starters, there had been no sign of dogs during the day. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but the same part of the world as the ljossalfar also had the werewolf. Besides... wolves and roosters never got along too well. He tries to put on a pleasant face, though. So far this is nothing new, and the villagers aren't doing anything untoward... but then there are those dogs... he'll apologize for interrupting Sulochana's sleep, but she should be awake for this. He makes one quick round to make sure all the guards are paired up and within sight of at least two other pairs, before going to Sulochana's wagon.
Suraksha and Rattler are just straightening up and collecting teacups, folding the big furred blanket they'd cuddled under as they had their nightly cuppa on the porch (to give the girls time to fall asleep) before heading to bed. The small woman looks up interestedly at sight of the sidhe, murmuring softly, "Chanti? What's up, dear?"
Chanticleer says quietly, "The villagers are starting to drift by, like they usually do... but they have a lot of very big dogs with them. I don't remember dogs of any size today. None of them have approached yet, and they were almost hiding at first." His gaze goes to the small, carefully-enumerated pile of the take. The word 'werewolf' is going through his mind and eventually pounces on the word 'silver' -- or rather, lack thereof. He blinks, then swears softly. "We didn't have any silver in the take, did we? Do you remember seeing them wearing any silver jewelry?"
Suraksha tilts her head perplexedly, casting back in memory for any dogs... then she blinks at Chanti, "Umm, no, actually! It was all pretty gold settings. Rattler and I were just speculating earlier that there might be a goldmine nearby, in fact." She frowns thoughtfully, then nods decisively, "There were no dogs whatsoever today in town, true." To Rattler she murmurs, "Sweetheart, find Sna'tha and Ohkwa, would you, please? Let them know our suspicions, so Godsmama can be appropriately armed. I'd like to talk to Ohkwa, though -- maybe there are native wolf beings he knows of?" She steps down from her gaily-decorated wagon's tiny porch, and waves a hand to Chanti to lead on, "Show me where they are, please?" Rattler, who has dealt with one werewolf before, nods and slips out of the wagon to go find the sidhe and the manitou. He's also wondering if Buddy might have anything that might work as a ward against them.
Chanticleer nods quietly, "This way is where I last saw the most of them. I wouldn't say they're surrounding the caravan just yet, but I wouldn't consider it unlikely." In the meantime, a group of the townie youngsters have gotten close enough for the guards to easily see their faces. They haven't said anything yet and they are smiling sort of tentatively, with their lips pressed together.
Suraksha stands with Chanti back in the shadows of one of the wagons, her eyes narrowed and her arms folded. She finally whispers to Chanticleer "Hmm. They don't seem hostile. More just... tentative? Is that how it seems to you too?" As one of the big canids leans in toward the caravan, sniffing busily, and ends up taking a few steps forward, Suraksha gets a faintly amused look, "Looks like we're going to be hip-deep in them soon if we don't do something!"
None of the townies that are creeping forward look to be any older than perhaps sixteen. While Suraksha and Chanti are watching, Ohkwa and Sna'tha join them. Ohkwari's brow is furrowed and he's barefoot, as is often the case when he's trying to get a really good connection with the area around him. Chanticleer makes a quiet sound. "Young ones," he murmurs in agreement with Suraksha. He relaxes a little. "Probably curious. Any idea when the last caravan came through these parts?"
Suraksha glances up and over her shoulder at Ohkwa, then smiles at Sna'tha when the sidhe silently hands Sura four pale, gleaming daggers shaped like short knitting needles. The smaller woman neatly tucks them away, murmuring to Chanti, "At least a decade, from what the children say." She looks expectantly at Ohkwa again, waiting for him to verify (or not) what they're all thinking right now.
Okhwa looks out and then slips back into the circle of the wagons. When he returns he's carrying a small robber's lantern. He holds it up and moves the slide so just a bare beam of light emerges. This, he sweeps slowly over the people and canids. Their eyes flash momentarily scarlet as the light moves over them. Perhaps more unnerving, there are also several flashes from the brush at the edge of the clearing. Altogether, they can see maybe five of the big canids. Ohkwa murmurs, "These are not manitou."
Suraksha nods at that, "But are they all... well, wolves -- or at least canids?"
Okhwa closes the lantern and murmurs, "They are wolves. At least the canid ones are. The others..." His nostrils flare. As a bear-natured manitou, he has an excellent sense of smell, "They smell..." He rocks his hand back and forth. The flash of the lantern has made one of the big wolves curious and it has stepped several paces forward, ears pricked.
Suraksha nods slowly, "Not hostile?"
Chanticleer frowns a little at Ohkwa's pause. "The others? What's wrong?"
Okhwa shakes his head slowly, "No hackles..." The bravery of the one wolf has encouraged the others, and several of the humans have moved in closer, including some that had been still hiding. The manitou says, "They don't smell entirely human."
Suraksha unfolds her arms, rolling her shoulders to loosen them and studying the various entities pressing slowly inwards towards the caravan. "Yes, we knew that. Still, they all seem... almost... shy? I think... I think I know this body language." She takes a deep breath and straightens, putting her hands on her hips and aggressively broadening her stance. Her voice is a soft whisper, "All right. Cover me, but unless they attack, please stay out of sight." With that she nods firmly once to herself, then strides -- nearly stomps -- out of the circle of wagons towards the humans and wolves. As she heads towards them she claps her hands together sharply and shouts a firm, aggressive, "NO!" the way she knows you do with bad dogs. Chanticleer half-reaches for his bow as he watches, then chides himself and forces himself not to telegraph such a blatantly hostile move.
The wolf that had made the most headway startles and stops with its most forward front paw lifted. The inward creep stops, but no one has backed off yet. Looks are being exchanged by the humans, mostly seeming unsure what to do. Suraksha is inwardly worried at the stillness -- will they back off or attack? She doesn't show that worry at all, though, as she looks around with her fists on her hips and snaps, "Back! We may just borrow it as guests -- but this is our pack's territory for now!" The wolves scatter when Suraksha snaps, and the young townsfolk with them. Most of them retreat back to the tree line, but a couple of the more bold start creeping forward again after a moment.
Suraksha is relieved to see the young folk pull back, but she frowns as she sees them starting to creep forward again. Shouting at them won't work all night, she knows. Without breaking her fierce, forbidding glare at anyone who gets too close, she calls over her shoulder, "Chanti, organize folks to set up tiki torches in the ground halfway between the wagons and the edges of the field." She thinks... what will keep wolves back? -then she grins, adding, "Ohkwa, bring our biggest empty barrel that you can carry, that will hold liquids. I'll stay here for now." Chanticleer nods to Suraksha, and goes to make the organization for a lot more illumination than they usually put out. Maybe it will make the wolves a lot less... curious.
As the sidhe and the manitou move to their appointed tasks there's the sound of a full-throated howl from somewhere over in the village itself. All of the encroaching townies pause and raise their heads as one, listening. The howl dies off and then is followed by another -- this one rising higher and sustaining longer. By the time the second one has faded away, all of the townsfolk -- both two and four-legged -- have faded back into the shadows or into the trees.
Suraksha sighs in relief, relaxing her aggressive posture, "Thank goodness!" She whirls and strides towards the caravan's encircled wagons, "All right, we've gotten a break here, folks -- let's not waste it! Chanti, any guard with a dog, that's not busy -- have them lead the dogs along the edge of the field, and try to persuade the dogs to mark any boulders or trees with pee! Sna'tha, ask Fantine and Buddy to start a huge urn of tea, and everyone should have some -- we're going to circle this field with our scent marks, to declare this our territory -- and to avoid having to fight for it, I pray!" She's already shedding her clothing on the small porch of her wagon, preparatory to changing form, and she grins at Ohkwa, "Bear should work well here too, yes, old friend?"
Chanticleer tensed and reached for his sword the instant he heard the first howl. But as the second howl sounded and all the townsfolk faded away, he relaxes a little. He nods to Suraksha, "Yes, let's. Though I imagine we may not have to fight tonight, and will be getting answers tomorrow morning, it's a good idea to not squander this time." He goes to make preparations for both the tiki lamps and for the dogs.
For the next almost-an-hour, the encampment is frantically busy, with every adult working in teams. People are either drinking tea and trying to 'contribute' to the sloshing contents of the big barrel Ohkwa turns up with, or working with animals to try and encourage them to do the same, or carefully lugging the barrel around the field's edge and making small, liquid splashes in a steady, continuous circle around the entire edge of the field. The big bear, the elephant, the minotaur, and the tiger all do their best to clearly mark any trees or boulders as well. It is a tense, but also giggly and almost festive, hour. Rattler puts it best when he mutters, "The things I do fer this caravan!" That causes a burst of laughter, and people start to relax a bit.
Towards the end, when Chanticleer has made sure all the torches are set, and Buddy is silently handing out steaming hot chocolate, people are tired but pleased -- the field's border has been completely covered, along with the far side of the little stream that forms one side of the fallow field. Sura thanks everyone once she's shifted back to human form and dressed again, then shoos those not on guard duty off to bed. She grins tiredly at Chanticleer, murmuring, "Well, this should hopefully hold them back, if they return tonight. If it doesn't, though, feel free to call me right away, please?"
Chanticleer nods wryly. "If this doesn't stop them, I'm hoping I'll at least be the first to know. I'll let you know if that happens, Lady."
Suraksha laughs at that, giving Chanticleer a quick hug, "Thank you, dear!" She yawns hugely, then blinks and looks startled. "Goodness! I'm sleepier than I thought." She half-laughs, half-sighs, then smiles as Rattler slips an arm about her waist so the two of them can head towards her wagon.
Perhaps a quarter of an hour after the caravan have concluded their preparations, the first couple of wolves arrive again. They seem bulkier than the ones that were there before and they move with more confidence -- until they reach the boundary that has been marked by the caravan folk. Then their noses go to the ground and they begin to sniff along. They're soon joined by some of the townsfolk in human form, but the bipedal folk stay back as the wolves search out the scent marks. The canids are bristling a little at the unfamiliar scents they encounter, and a low growl escapes one at the scent of the tiger.
Chanticleer doesn't seem to breathe again until he's reasonably sure the wolves are stymied by the marking. He also takes note: these are probably older and smarter, cannier werewolves. He feels irritation building in him. The caravan doesn't have to come by and entertain them and provide them news of the outside world and trade things they might need for things they don't need. Caravanning is not easy, especially after the Event -- but if it weren't for the caravans, every city would be a little beacon, and little towns and hamlets like these would be erased by the first sufficiently large bandit... or sufficiently terrifying monster. While he remains within the perimeter, his irritation gives way to some genuine anger. He plants his hands on his hips, glaring at the growling wolf close to the perimeter. "All right," he says. "This has gone on for long enough. What's going on. What, the dancing wasn't to your taste?"
The wolf startles, as if it didn't realize it was growling. The others have scattered. The large triangular ears flicker and then the creature disappears back into the shadows. Moments later, the largest wolf they've seen appears. His coat is silvery to the point of being largely white and his eyes are tawny. With his head upraised, he scents the air, but doesn't cross over the perimeter marked by the scents of the combined caravan. Chanticleer lets out a slow breath of realization. "Honorable Malachai," he says by way of greeting. "Give me a moment to get the Lady." The big wolf settles to his haunches at Chanticleer's words. A couple of human townsfolk appear from the shadows as well. There were a lot of folks there, but Rachel at least is recognizable.
Chanticleer resists the urge to greet Rachael by going 'woof.' "Hello, Rachael. As I said: one moment and I'll have the Lady here." He murmurs instructions to the guards: if any of the wolves or humans move closer, don't be too shy nor proud -- scream like hell and make enough noise to wake the dead. Then he goes -- again -- to wake up Suraksha.
Suraksha wakes up quickly at Chanti's quiet knock, not yet really deeply asleep. She raises her head from Rattler's chest, murmuring softly, "Moment, please!" A quick kiss to her beloved as she slides carefully out of bed, then she pulls the thick, furred blanket about her shoulders and opens the wagon door. She steps outside, carefully closing the door behind her so the children aren't awakened and looks up worriedly at the taller sidhe, "What's up, dear?"
Chanticleer says, "Judging by the size, color, and eyes of this particular wolf, I'd say Malachai has arrived. Rachael and some others are with him."
Suraksha blinks at that, her golden eyes wide, "He -- they all just turned up in wolf shape?! Goodness!" She glances towards the closest edge of the field, worrying absently at her lower lip. "This... concerns me. Are they honoring the field's edge?"
Chanticleer says, "No, Rachael and the others aren't in wolf form. They're on the edge of the perimeter, just waiting. I said I would get you."
Suraksha sighs in relief, then thinks a moment. Finally she nods once, "All right." She looks to the big cushion where Alg always sleeps on her porch, murmuring, "Alg, sweetie, can you ask Buddy to be ready to produce tea if necessary? Tell Fantine I might need her too, after she's finished feeding, please?" The goblin grunts, rolling off the porch and vanishing under the wagon. Sura looks up at Chanti, taking a breath and straightening, "All right. Dignity, grace, confidence. I can do this. Escort me, please, dear?" She rests a small hand lightly on his arm, and he can almost see her pull on the demeanor of the Hetaera. She also silently and surreptitiously passes a needle-thin silver dagger to Chanti as she steps down from her wagon and takes his arm.
Chanticleer nods and walks at a stately pace with Sulochana toward where Malachai is waiting. Rattler is buttoning his jeans and standing in the doorway as 'Chana moves off with Chanti. He knows he wouldn't be the best to do this, since he's feeling quite irritated by the townies, himself. Sulochana blows a quick kiss to Rattler over her shoulder, whispering, "When Fantine gets here, lover, ask her if she can set up the little tea table, please?" Then she heads off with Chanti.
By the time Chanti returns with Sulochana, Malachai is in human form and shrugging into a shirt. His jacket, hat, and shoes are held by Rachel. The town elder's snowy hair is unbound and he pulls it out of the collar of his shirt with one hand. The elder/alpha's torso is solidly muscled and there are a couple of visible scars before he starts buttoning the shirt.
The Hetaera is wrapped in just a fur blanket, her small feet bare but for a few twinkling toe rings. Her golden-green eyes are large and lambent; her dark hair is still richly tumbled from sleep, rippling and gleaming in the dancing firelight. Despite this she somehow still exudes the confident dignity of a queen. Sulochana pauses just past the tiki torches, still standing next to Chanti so the townsfolk are looking into bright lights, while she and Chanti have the light behind them. "It is quite late, elder, for there to be wolves at our door. Is something wrong?"
Malachai doesn't speak until he has his shirt, jacket, and boots back on. "Please forgive my folk if we have startled or offended." His nostrils flare a little, taking in the scents on the air of the unfamiliar animals before he speaks again, "We were having a town meeting and some of the youngsters mentioned that you shooed them off. Two of us came to check things out and told me there were some unusual scents, so I wished to check them out." The Hetaera nods once, graciously, then waits. Clearly he's here for more than that, if he made the effort to shift back to human shape.
Rachel and several others are gathered around and behind Malachai; not all of them are in human form. None of them are further forward than the white-haired elder, though some of them are pacing. Malachai says, "We understand why you marked this out as your territory, and since you were invited you have guest-right to use it that way. May we... may I enter?"
Sulochana studies the humans and wolves behind Malachai, then nods slowly, her eyes grave, "Malachai of Friendsville, you are welcome tonight to peacefully enter our territory, as temporarily granted by you." She watches him silently as he steps forward, adding, "I am curious, however. What is it you wish to discuss at this hour?" The Hetaera is careful both to limit who can enter and how long, as well as graciously acknowledge their hosts.
Malachai steps forward and some of the others move as if to follow him. He raises his hand and they stop. He speaks without turning his head, "Rachel, please make sure we do not encroach on this territory without permission." The young woman nods and puts her hand on the head of the large gray wolf at her side. The rest of the townsfolk and wolves (townswolves?) stay beyond the scent-marked boundary. Malachai says, "We are a nocturnal lot and I had hoped you might still be stirring." His eyes slip over her and his nostrils flare a bit. The sight of her wrapped in the fur and barefoot is a lovely one, "Were you called from your bed?"
The Hetaera smiles and shakes her head, "Please do not concern yourself; we are awake now." She suppresses a yawn and makes a mental note to sleep late tomorrow, then turns with Chanti -- the two of them have worked together for enough decades that it looks like he's courteously leading her -- and heads slowly for the center of the wagon circle. She knows Fantine will have a nice little sitting area and tea waiting for them there. "Come this way, please. We will discuss what it is that concerns you over tea." Malachai follows after them.
By the time they get to the wagon, Rattler is nowhere in sight and Alg is back in his little bed on the porch. The bebes have been moved to Sna'tha's wagon, and the king-in-hiding is off elsewhere in the encampment, not trusting himself to behave in any way except like a jealous lover. His temper, never the best, is a little frayed from all the strangeness and the long day. The tea, however, is fragrant and steaming in the night air, and Fantine has pulled her skin back on. Despite the hurried summons, she is neat and tidy.
Sulochana smiles gratefully at Fantine, settling into her chair and wrapping the fur more securely about herself. She tucks her small feet, and all but one hand, under the rich warmth; it's a cool Fall night, after all. Once Fantine has poured, the Hetaera accepts her cup and has a slow, appreciative sip of the warm, sweet liquid. She's giving herself as much time as she can to both wake up a bit more, and to seem unruffled and unworried -- to seem someone who would lead a caravan that is a force to reckon with.
Chanticleer remains close by Sulochana, wishing the standard materiel for sidhe swords was silver instead of bronze. Well, there's probably some sidhe who are as deathly allergic to silver as they are to cold iron, so there's no helping that. Besides, it would probably be considered improper. He does make a mental note to get hold of a silver blade of his own someday. He remains close by Sulochana throughout the palaver, though. He takes his cues from her as well, appearing (now there's no problem or immediate threat) to be unperturbed.
Malachai's eyes are everywhere as he follows them and his nostrils flare from time to time. His body language is slightly different as well. He moved with economy and surety before, but there's a different sort of grace about him now, as if something of the wolf is still clinging. He waits for 'Chana to be seated and then takes the chair offered to him by Fantine. When she offers him the teacup, he says something in the language they've all heard from the townsfolk, then seems to catch himself and says, "Thank you." He bends his head over the cup and murmurs something before taking a sip.
Sulochana nods pleasantly to him, waiting until he has swallowed and had a moment to appreciate the tea before she murmurs, "So. How may we help you, elder?" The silent warmth of Chanti behind her, and the invisible eyes of her people watchfully surrounding her makes her feel calmer and more grounded -- even more than the tea does.
Malachai holds the teacup in both hands, cupping it carefully from the bottom rather than using his fingers on the handle, "I come to negotiate." His nostrils flare again and his head tips slightly to the side, a question in his eyes. Sulochana is a professional, so no surprise is reflected in her eyes. Instead she simply nods slowly, indicating he should continue. Internally, though, she's somewhat flummoxed! She'd been so sure he'd decline. What could he possibly have rustled up to pay her with? Chanticleer, for his part, does not like what Malachai says. There's a reason why the wolves wanted to get closer to the caravan. He does not suspect it was a good reason. He braces himself for the explanation of what Malachai wants to 'negotiate.'
Malachai doesn't look tentative exactly, but as if he's unsure of the etiquette; if there is one thing that is important to any pack animal, especially one with a hierarchy as enforced a wolf pack, it is etiquette. Finally he speaks, "We do not often use money. Barter is, for the most part, how we deal with the few outside merchants that take our crops. Our artisans are paid in the same way. So we cannot truly offer money. But we can offer other things. First, I offer all the provisions your people need while you stay within our territory. Any ironwork your people need as well. We noticed you need some repairs when we were here before." As before, Malachai tends to speak in the plural; then he adds, "From my own stores I offer two bars of gold and five bolts of silk cloth."
Sulochana raises a mental eyebrow, internally shocked -- silk?! Due to silkworms not doing well on this continent, good silk is breathtakingly rare, except in antique clothing. 'Chana made a killing off the silk she was able to finagle down in Baton Rouge. To find it here is... quite startling! Her voice is pleasantly low and steady, however, after another sip of tea before she murmurs, "That is... an interesting offer. You would be amenable to my inspecting the goods first, I hope?" The Hetaera is swiftly doing estimates in her head. Since everyone contributes a percentage of their earnings to the caravan, she could call any repairs and provisions her percentage... hmm. It's going to be close. She's curious as to the size of the gold and the silk -- that will definitely tip the balance one way or the other. She adds politely, "Might you be able to give a rough indicator of the size of the objects you refer to?" Maybe that will give her an idea of possible worth on the silk and gold.
Malachai inclines his head, "Of course. The bars are smallish bars -- four ounces each. The bolts of cloth are eight yards apiece. Enough to make several lovely gowns for a lovely lady such as yourself." He waits, seeing what her response will be.
Sulochana's lips curve up slightly at the corners in a small smile as she studies the elegant arabesques of steam rising from her teacup. She doesn't mention that the silk is far more likely to be sold for a tidy profit, rather than wasted on yet more clothing for her. She considers silently for a few heartbeats, then nods slowly once, "That is an acceptable offer, sir, and thank you. For that I would be happy to spend an evening with you." She raises her golden-eyed gaze to him as she adds with that same faint touch of humor, "That is, if you can assure me of your... complete control over your ability to, ahh... change shape?" Chanticleer lets out a mental breath. That's not what he had feared, and better than what he had expected! On the other hand... he holds his breath again. If the elder is just negotiating for the services of the Hetaera, then all should be well -- but why all this, and what changed his mind, and... why would he want to?
Malachai nods, considering 'Chana's words as she speaks, and looking down at his cup as if he is thinking carefully. At the last he says, "It is done." The corners of his lips lift slightly, "The way of signifying such among us is probably not what is customary outside our town. I believe a handshake is considered polite?"
Sulochana smiles at that, setting down her teacup as she murmurs, "I take it that was a 'yes, I do have complete control over my change,' then?"
Malachai's eyes gleam for a moment, "Yes, I have control over the change. I have been doing this for a long time." He offers his hand across the table, after setting down his teacup.
Sulochana nods, reassured, and solemnly shakes hands with the... man. Werewolf? Entity. "Tomorrow night, then?" Chanticleer lets out a breath for real this time. He's relieved that it really is simply that. But why all the... well, perceived intimidation? Why not just negotiate discreetly? Why get the whole town- er, pack -- involved?
Malachai nods and shakes 'Chana's hand carefully. "We would also like to invite your people to celebrate with us tomorrow. There will be food, singing, dancing, storytelling. We would like to meet all of your people. Your... family."
Sulochana raises an eyebrow, "A... celebration?" She thinks a moment, then asks carefully, "Is this... like a barn-raising or something? A shindig for some reason? Will we be able to talk to the carter and the blacksmith even though there is partying?" Her eyes narrow slightly; has he realized she has children? Hmm... are children invited? She checks that too, "By family, you mean both the extended family of the caravan, and my immediate family, yes?"
Malachai says, "It is a general celebration. We do not often have visitors. It has unsettled and excited the youngsters, so we have declared tomorrow a general holiday. The carter and blacksmith will be available to talk business with you, but may not be able to do the work tomorrow." He inclines his head slightly, but does not take his eyes off 'Chana's face, "Yes, that is what I mean. Everyone you brought with you into the circle of our territory."
Sulochana smiles at that, relaxing a little as her gaze goes far-away, "A general celebration... that would be nice. I think we'd all enjoy that." She glances at Malachai, adding quietly, "During the day, yes? Hmm... if it is not rude to ask..." she pauses, trying to think how to phrase it, then says carefully, "will there be wolves about during the daytime?" She hopes not; if the answer is yes then she's not sure this would be a good idea. Chanticleer is a little more unsettled by this sudden change. Well, it's in keeping with how the townsfolk were during the day, but the whole wolf thing kind of put a different tone on it all.
Malachai doesn't actually chuckle, but there is an amused gleam in his eyes for a moment; it seems a bit odd against his normally staid demeanor, "Some few of us do prefer that form, but it is very few. Would the presence of wolves make the people that travel with what smells like a very, very large cat that uncomfortable?"
Sulochana's eyes flash scarlet for just an instant as she turns her head, but by the time she looks back at Malachai they are golden again. Her face is very still as she enunciates carefully, "Yes. We are... extremely protective of our children."
Malachai nods, "Then we will walk on two legs while we celebrate." He seems to have relaxed subtly.
Sulochana nods calmly, her steady gaze no longer confrontational, "Thank you."
The elder/alpha takes a final sip of his tea and then stands, "Until tomorrow, then?" He turns to Chanticleer, "Do you wish one of your outrunners to escort me to your border?"
'Chana also rises, carefully making sure the fur does not slip and reveal more than she wishes. "Until tomorrow." She nods to Chanti -- best if it is him escorting Malachai. The Hetaera carefully slides one pale arm free and pushes back her hair, then nods graciously to the elder. "A good evening to you, sir." She glances over at Alg, tilting her head an infinitesimal amount towards Chanti. The goblin blinks his faintly glowing eyes once, then silently slips over the side of the wagon's porch. 'Chana nods, satisfied; Chanti will have back-up now.
Chanticleer considers, then: "I'll walk with you," he says simply. Malachai nods and then turns to follow Chanticleer, though it obviously takes a moment for him to remind himself not to take the lead.
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