Battle Symphony

[TakodaVega]

A woman crouched to the ground as she examined the dirt with her fingers. If the woman had been a betting woman she would say that she had almost caught up to the caravan that had been rather allusive the last few days. Why she had taken up this bounty she was still questioning to a degree, but then again any information that gave her the whereabouts to her enemies was a blessing in itself. That was what she had been promised as well as a rather hefty upfront fee for her skills and services. She had been asked to make sure when she was done to dump the body in a place where it could be found. Not her usual forte but when it boiled down to it she hadn't gotten a choice in the matter.

She carefully stood and pulled her hood back to reveal defined features, long lashed eyes framed silver hues that peered through the lowlight of the morning. She still had some debts to pay and a Rat to kill. The idea of finding the Rat and strangling him or at least having experience the very tortures he had put her through was an idea she savored. Yet she suspect she had been down this road before, which made her eyes narrow very slightly as she pulled herself up onto the dapple mare, clicking to her lightly. The mare had been a companion since the fall of Eden. It was weird to think that instead of a snake a rat with his henchmen of a fox was the reason it had fallen this time. No matter, she could always find the others. At least those that hadn't retired, or ah, preferred their brothels than their lifestyle.

Her suspicions as to where exactly she was going were confirmed as she pulled back on the reigns a few hours later. There was no mistaken the golden lions that perched outside the gates to the settlement. She took in a breath, carefully through her nose before carefully checking her things to make sure the forged documentation for own safety was carefully in place. It may had been over a dozen years since she had resided at the establishment that lay at the center of the settlement, her departure less than ideal by the standards set by the staff...or any Slave Trade post for that matter.

She only would need her papers for the establishment itself, but the settlement had grown, it was more of a town now with a bustling market and shops that lined the roads as she nudged her horse along the road. Of course to capitalize the profits, The House of Setting Suns was attached to The Gilded Shackle, so it could be considered, say, a one-stop shop of sorts. Get your sleep and entertainment. The mare beneath her seemed to sense her uneasiness and stamped her hoof. A pale hand reached to pet her neck before guiding her to a stable hand and dismounting with ease. This time the hood fell from her face revealing a pale woman with ivory hair that was wound back into a tight braided bun. Some strands of her ivory hair fell across her features but upon close inspection feline ears could be seen flicking this way and that - a single scar marring along the back of her left ear. Her constant reminder as she went to the guards to show her papers.

Of course, the formidable White Rose would not get through this unnoticed entirely as she passed through the gates without so much as a second glance to the entrance hall where patrons and slaves bustled from place to place, her one track mind would go to her goal, first thing was to find information. Again she took in a deep breath, a soft sigh leaving her lips. "Welcome back to hell, Cage." She muttered more to herself as she moved past the slaves to the open foyer, making a straight away to the bar. Honestly information could wait, being here made her nerves heighten out of habit as she settled into a stool and the barmen perked up to see her there. "Whiskey," came her voice again sliding the coinage from her purse to the keep. Her elbows rested on the counter as she waited. There was black cigarette on her lip but she hadn't lit it yet, she seemed to loose a sense of time only to blink after a few moments and glance down.

She had ordered a whiskey right?

[TaemaNai]

He wore his fox form today. You couldn't miss with a classic. That and foxes went a dime a dozen, literally in the case of slave pens. Those made for a good way to part money from fools, but only if you were the house. The fox in question, he decidedly wasn't of the house though he was of the group needing coin. In honor of the old adage that one should spend money to make money, his day began in the bar with a tab and scotch. Tabs could be put off until later, giving him time to think and nurse his brief pleasure. And then she arrived.

One blackened mitt reached out to cover Cage's money, sliding it back towards her with a call to the bartender, "Add her to my tab."

"Cost of savoring a lovely lady's company. Unavoidable but willingly paid," he said with a hint of a grin. Fingers returned to the fox's own glass, lifting it for a sip, while eyes peered at her from the corner. He could easily pass for any other denizen of the isles, dressed in leather trousers and a tunic of dark green silk. Just enough of it parted over his breast to give a hint of his mark without revealing all.

"Though if you'd prefer the bottle and silence, I'll not hold it against you. You wouldn't be the first here with business to keep to herself."

[TakodaVega]

Cage's silver eyes looked up, though she showed no physical reaction her distrust of foxes was exponential to that of nagas. It only took one or two to have betrayed her that she would view essentially the entire species in a poor light. The amurjin, however, was not about to pass up a free drink and repocketed her coins back to their respectful place. "Thank you," she replied calmly as her glass of whiskey made it's way now in front of her.  It was probably the only thing that kept her sane now was the burn of alcohol on her tongue on occasion.

Though she was still fairly flexible as she had been in her youth the price of her servitude had been hidden beneath porcelain skin, and as time grew the more she felt the aches in her bones. The ride had agitated a few old injuries though she tended to work through the pain. Adrenaline helped usually, which was probably why she had refused to give up her trade. It was those lull periods between sleep and those adrenaline rushes that she felt the stiffness in her very bones. She had still been in her teens when her bones had been broken only to be healed and broken again sometimes months later. She hid her expression as she sipped the whiskey carefully, today it was her hip that bothered her probably from the riding.

Still though she felt like an old woman trapped in a younger one's body as she carefully turned in her seat and an audible 'crack' could be heard. It was only after the discomfort had somewhat been alleviated that she focused on the fox and his company. Something about him was odd and she couldn't quite place her finger on what it was. She crossed one leg over the other as she thought her words carefully. "It's the cost of being a lady I'm afraid, some tend to conduct business outside of the eyes of those who don't understand how shrewd the womenfolk can be. Though you don't seem the type to come to a bar for business considering this establishments wares."

[GreenWolf]

'Shift change' for the slaves was upon them again.  Taliesin hid the journal he'd begun writing in beneath his clothing and rose to join the ranks of the other prisoners.  A couple days without food had made him more inclined to behave, but the close proximity to the next full moon was ruining any chance he had at showing signs of patience, though he knew not the reason for his lack thereof.  He would need to be cautious, avoid conflict.  "Hello there," he whispered to the grayish-brown rat that clawed its way up his tatterdemalion clothing. "Coming along to help?"  She tucked herself in close to his neck, nibbling against one of his long, pointed ears.  The ragged fall of his long hair, filthy with matting, kept her mostly hidden from sight.  Lumbering out of his cell, he was careful to get into line with the others heading out.  Any remaining slaves who hadn't been rented or purchased would be entering almost as soon as they exited up the stairs and out of 'Hell Beneath,' as it was becoming colloquially known to the slave.

"Keep clear!"  The guards were calling out to the patrons in both bar and display areas.  "New merchandise coming through!"  He was paraded out with the others in a single file line, wrists and ankles in manacles, chains connected between pairs and betwixt sets.  The line were shuffling along slowly, the guards moving before, after, and alongside, to keep the mongrels from harming their precious patrons.  Taliesin was mumbling to himself like a mantra, "stay calm, no trouble," over and over.  One of the guards, a bulky human with his face hidden by a helmet, shoved him roughly, "Shut yer trap, Inu!"  The distressed squeak from his shoulder ensured his mantra wouldn't have helped anyway.  "What's this, then?!" Helmet-head exclaimed, reaching for where the rat was clinging to his clothing.  Taliesin snarled a roaring growl of warning that stopped the man in his tracks.

Not one to be embarrassed in front of his fellows, the guard began to move in, but the slave leaped upon him like an animal!  Manacled hands grabbed at armor, metal laden bare feet collided with the man's midsection, the slaves mouth wide and threatening to bite.  His teeth seemed as dangerously canine as both his second set of ears and raised tail.  Polearm trapped between their bodies, Helmet-head was ridden down into the flagstone flooring, the weight of the slaves chains holding him down as much as the slave himself.  It was quite a show, but there were plenty of other guards and Taliesin was yanked off to struggle between two who had dragged him off their fellow and hauled him out of the procession.  He was dragged past the group and tossed into a small cage, on the main sales floor, unceremoniously whacked with the shafts of their spears multiple times before the cage door was slammed and locked.

His head tilted up eventually, cerulean blue eyes, the pupils ringed with gold, flitted about nervously checking for any more aggressors before he would begin to unfold from his tucked up, guarding position, protecting his center.  The contraband in question, poked it's little head out, from where it had been cradled in his arms, and crawled back up onto his shoulder.  Looks like the other guards hadn't noticed her yet, hadn't been told by their fellow what the outburst had been about.  That was likely to change, but for now, he huddled in a private cage for the more volatile slaves on sale.  No knowledge of his name, how he ended up in this mess, or what danger lurked in his future as the full moon was coming.  The barker outside his cage told Patrons, incorrectly, that he was an Inumimi, prone to violent outbursts and cheap enough to make him good arena fodder, if they want to bait their warriors, or even dogs, with him.  To any who recognized his true face, they would spot Taliesin Ainsel, sometimes called Tali, very much the worse for wear.

[TaemaNai]

The fox's eyes darted south when Cage shifted her thighs. A brief tension and a too still pause of someone watching for the dagger, so to speak. It lasted hardly a moment as he slipped effortlessly back into his relaxed manner and let his eyes crawl back up Cage's body, a plausible cover for a moment that never happened. His smile showed through as naturally as the sun peeking over a cloud. "I'd always thought shrewdness was half the appeal of womenfolk, so long as they keep pace. That's the problem with pals from pens. They get the routine ingrained, kills the creativity. Replaces ambition with fear. Now were I king for a day, I'd work out an incentive program. Some profit sharing and standards of treatment. Turn this little sea rock of slaves into a sailor's forbidden paradise."

His tail stirred behind him the closer he leaned to her, as if confiding these half-baked schemes for a sea-based brothel might be their private little secret. "Truth be told everyone who's anyone knows the real deals start over drinks because everyone gets thirsty, so soon er or later everyone comes here." The fox sat up as he knocked back his drink, sliding the glass across for a refill.

"Patience is a virtue, but it helps to have company when you're waiting for just the right person to chance a visit." The fox turned about on his stool to lean back against the bartop, both to better spy what the commotion was on the floor and keep an eye on Cage. Appearing to be distracted by her was essential to being another frivolous fox. Meandering among the pens was another good trick. He made a mental note to himself to check just what caused such a ruckus. One man's scream might turn into his opportunity. Until then, he had to wait for his contact.

"What about you though? You don't look like you're here to buy. If anything you look like you could charge for the pleasure, if you were that sort. Just passing through on business I take it?" He paid the bar's new arrival no attention at all, why should he? The old cat looked worn and faded by the sea. Whoever the stranger might be he kept himself wrapped up in a ragged cloak beneath a battered captain's hat. The gruff sound of his voice called for rum as he sat down, paying the fox equal amounts of attention despite sitting next to the man. Hardly anyone would think to watch closely as a folded bit of paper exchanged hands between the strangers without either acknowledging the other. That bit of paper seemed to vanish with a twist of the fox's wrist while his eyes paid Cage compliments over his smiles.

[Krisshawnee]

With dainty hands, the fragile looking woman adjusted the fabric along her hips, smoothing, caressing and working it back into place where it fit snugly against her curved figure. Dark mahogany and ombre blonde curls were carefully brushed away from her sun-kissed, seemingly porcelain-smooth skin. The door of the room was locked as the male stepped out and offered her an all-too-pleased arm. With a heart-melting smile and not a moment's hesitation, Zarlah placed her own hand atop the male's, turned, and headed down the stairs into the main hall of the atrium.

The cut of the golden, lace and pearl embellished gown left nothing to the imagination; where those legs were concerned, an open slit up the front that reached to mid-thighs bared so very much for all to see, and a deep cut "V" offered no deception of what lay beneath. Despite the heels that graced her feet, the woman's steps were silent, hardly offering a click on the stone floor as the two entered the room together just as the scuffle broke out. It didn't involve her but she probed it anyway, that psychic blanket telling her more in a quick search than most would gather from watching. Rich, ebony, butterfly-wing-shaped ears peeked from atop her curls, twisting towards that scuffle just for safety sake; it really was out of habit.

She paused in the middle of the room and turned fully to her 'escort', arms lifting to encircle his neck while one hand slid up into his hair and gently pulled him closer. "I want to thank you... for everything." She practically purred, peering at him with those icy blue and golden-stardusted eyes. Zarlah pulled his lips to hers and kissed him thoroughly with a deeply ingrained and heated passion. As she drew away, she gave a coy smile and released her grasp on him. "Until next time." Her voice was soft and teasing to the ears. Without another word, she turned her back on the male who's life, in a few days time, was forfeit with that kiss. There would be no next time. Years of experimenting with poisons, their potency, their delay, and their antidotes ensured that.

Belladonna, The Pretty Poison, a name she so often went by in some circles, suited the woman well. She was as lovely as she was deadly, despite her faults. Maybe even because of her faults. There were few who knew her by that name now that Eden had crumbled around their feet. And even fewer who knew why the Caracaljin was such an oddity in her line of work. It was just as well, Zarlah, a woman with more nicknames than one could shake a stick at, found it far easier to hide in plain sight.

And in plain sight was exactly where she was, in the middle of a slave trade, 'watching' the ruckus taking place between guards and a slave. The fighting male should've been familiar to her but she couldn't place him just yet. Blind eyes crossed over the struggling male and the guards and she almost walked away without another thought. Something flickered across her senses, snatching her attention back to the male who'd been tossed in a box. A cage. Unaware of the rest of the familiar group somewhere close by, Bell slipped closer to the cage and took to leaning against it. She didn't appear to be looking at him, "Strange place to spend your retirement, Taliesin."

[GreenWolf]

Taliesin didn't feel like himself, which, considering the amnesia, said a whole lot about how he was struggling to sit still.  There's more than just boredom involved with sitting in a cage, waiting patiently for some nice patron to let you out.  No, there was a build up of restless energy, and there hadn't been any 'nice' patrons.  After the first couple of beatings, you learn to fear that oft spoken request to see paperwork.  After that, you learn to fear the eyes, scanning you in the pen, praying you don't catch someone's interest.  Pretty soon, you're just dreading the people in general, because at any time they could glance in your direction.  It's just after that, when all you have left is fear, beaten down like a dog.

In truth, Taliesin had already gone through all of that, and had spent a few days of cowering, before he had begun to fill up with this surprising anger.  He didn't know what had changed, couldn't know, that with the full moon only days away, he was flooded with endorphins that ignored flight, and went straight to fight.  He was lucky that he didn't receive a beating for attacking that guard earlier, but that didn't mean it wasn't still in store for him later on, when he was brought back down into the Hell Beneath, unwanted and unsold.  That was the kind of thing he should fear, but he didn't.  There was too much rage in him to be afraid.

He was lowered into a crouch, bent knees and balanced on the toes of his feet.  He had been unable to get comfortable on the jagged stone flooring, holding a bit of crust he'd found up to the nibbling rat on his shoulder, and not afraid of anything at the moment.  When the voice spoken, so close to him, caught both sets of ears.  His face shot up, with creased brow and drawn back lips, like a startled animal.  Incisors may have been a bit longer than for most people, but then he was listed as one of those Inumimi, and this dog-man was ready to pounce.  Oh, he had known she was near, though she walked so silently, but he'd hoped that if he didn't look, forced himself not to move, that she might just keep on her way.

He knew that he should have buried his face in the stone, thrown himself flat on the cobbles and tried to be as small as possible, but right now, more than anything, he wanted to bite down and taste blood, rend flesh with claws.  Vibrant blue eyes flicked up, prepared to snarl, the yellowy-gold ring bleeding out into the cerulean and welkin.  He should have gone submissive, but fuck that.  He was going to ... Goddamn, but if she wasn't gorgeous, the woman who seemed to be standing in front of his cage, talking to one of the slaves beside him.  She wasn't even looking at him, allowing him the time to let his eyes brazenly wander slowly down her body, and then right back up again.  Or, at least, that's what he had assumed, considering how most people used their eyes.  How did she walk so quietly in those heels?

Something in her voice caught and held him, and he realized that he could smell her clearly.  Technically, he could smell everything, within a certain range.  That was nothing new, but her scent specifically, wasn't making sense to him.  It was lovely, to be sure, and not just a perfume, but the essence of her.  She didn't look familiar, he would never forget a woman like that! (Har har.)  She didn't sound familiar, just closer than he'd realized, at the time she'd spoken.  Her scent, though.  It made him think of ... of toxic plants and snake's venom, poisonous liquids.  He understood the concept of a familiar scent recalling a childhood memory, but there was a connection there.  Here, there was no link that he could figure out.

The rat on his shoulder had taken the remaining bit of bread from him in her paws, tiny clawed hands turning it against her sharp teeth, her tail curling around his neck, holding tightly.  He glanced over to the side, curious to see who she was talking to, but there was no one there.  There wasn't even a pen on that side of him.  Slowly, he turned his face forward, back to the woman who was standing before him, watching her look towards empty space.  He tried to recall her words, but he couldn't.  Had she said a name?  "What?"  He blinked his eyes, amber gold bleeding through the blue, waiting for her to show some sort of sign that she was speaking to him.  His voice was gruffer than it should have been, but unmistakably his.  The wolf was so close to the surface, it was luck alone that he hadn't shifted during a beating or fight yet.

[TakodaVega]

Daggers would have been the least of his worries when it came to Cage. Her fans while deceptively pretty at the moment hung at her waist. She had managed to convince a blacksmith to conjure an idea for a weapon that could truly be as deceptive as she was. Beautiful and deadly with just a flick of the wrist, her war fans now had spring loaded blades that could clock into places if she opened them at just the right angle. She knew how to blend into a crowd when she needed to. Just as she knew how to keep a weapon in plain sight if need be.

"Not all ladies are shrewd. Just the ones who tend to know better and know ways to make you forget you had even seen them," she had gotten used to men staring at her long ago. Usually naked, dirty or covered in bruises or blood so his observations of her figure were noted, and pointedly ignored. "Though the problem with your idea is that you expect men to keep the stock in good health and make sure that they came back in one piece. You are going to have a few dozen men who expect less retribution sending their rental back in pieces." She noted, dryly. Mostly from her own personal experience though she flicked a feline ear towards the entrance to the main hall, before those silver hues slowly followed. She hadn't missed the casual exchange though what a man did for a living was none of her concern.

As though the thought had brought the idea to the forefront she reached to her hip to pull up one of the intricate black fans. Black silk that had been stitched with great care and painted with the ivory rose pattern for it's name sake. She usually nursed the whiskey however the commotion in the great hall had caught her attention, downing it with a single tilt of the glass before sliding it upside down to the barkeep. She did leave a few coin just for a healthy tip. "I'm hear mostly for information, though I think I may peruse the wares to see who may have brought the commotion. Usually those are the ones who got ensnared by the wrong person at the wrong time."

She slowly walked away from the fox into the great hall, she didn't know why but she suspected she was being watched. It was a feeling she had been used to once, but this felt more oily, sinister. She could almost tell by the way fur along her tail stood on end. There was evil here, true, but it was when she carefully placed herself into a seat near the newest arrivals that she caught a sight. 'Can't be', she thought herself. The night that Eden burned was a night she didn't forget. The Rat's men had made quick work of the garrison and had run off with some of the servants and even some of the hunters in tow. She had no idea if they had escaped but what she did remember was the fire, that tall shadow that had followed her for as long as she could remember, and those blue eyes. It was even a starker shock when she was aware of someone else in the proximity. Nekos could be a dime a dozen but those who had descended from the wilder side were often sought after for their own reasons.

Belladonna and Stinging Nettle.

Was her past coming to haunt her? She couldn't bring herself to speak, not yet. Not when she was unsure if this was a plot or a trick. Though she was fairly certain it wasn't. Not with those blue eyes that could read her like an open book.

[TaemaNai]

Lady luck has nothing on curiosity. Luck could be fickle in her favor as she lifted you up on a whim just to drop you twice as hard. She kept a rhythm though, a beat that a dancer might keep step to were he clever enough. And that was Lady Luck's lure. The promise that this time it would be different, this time you would beat all the odds, dangled just out of reach like a carrot. Usually from the very stick you were holding. Curiosity on the other hand was just a bitch.

The fox's endless fascination with people was entirely hereditary, he'd not have been conceived otherwise, and right now it clamored for him to play this game out a little farther. It also wanted him to go inspect the ruckus, find three people less than vigilant about their pockets, and strike up a game or two with a few amateur card players lost in delusions of 'winning it big' off a fox that desperately needed his ego knocked back a peg or three. Business before pleasure until you figured how to mix the two. He had places to be now that he hadn't met the stranger behind him but that did nothing to dampen his cheerful reply to Cage. "It's not an unreasonable expectation to ask someone return their rental in the same condition it was originally leased as. All the best Madams keep, in addition to their boys and girls, a few men whose primary hiring traits include barrel-like upper torsos, a habit of bending down to fit through doorways, and an utter lack of compassion when there's been a simple misunderstanding over the lease terms."

He watched her downing the glass. It seemed to be his cue to slip to his feet before she did the same, leaving his own glass unfinished on the bar behind them. Cage's polite excuse to peruse the wears fell on seemingly deaf ears as he matched her stride for stride out of the bar, going so far as to hold the doorway open for her while he verbally wandered without an apparent destination. "Now, that's just assuming we keep the trade to carnal pleasures, and I've nothing against those pleasures however, there's a good deal more to be made in raising the bar so to speak. Everything is in the anticipation more than the deed and it's easier to collect on a suggestion that's been implied rather than stated. Treat your pen-dwellers to a few scalding bathes and some vigorously encouraged training as a waitstaff. Instill in them the virtues of being charming company, delightful to speak to but happy to stand quietly at the ready, and drink serving. You have yourself a lounge that's one dress code away from being -the- place to see and be seen among the more wealthy. And what wealthy person would discuss anything but business?"

Granted the fox left out the bits of his personal fantasy that included facilitating deals in technically neutral waters, trading in the little known tidbits one might overhear by accident, and selling the one thing every person truly wants in business, discretion in tastefully revealing attire. What these slaves went for on their backs he could spin out many times over with the right setting- Perhaps another time. He had things to see to still. "Well, it has been lovely, and I wish you well, Madam Rose."

His bow moved one foot back with a sweep of his arms as though presenting himself in court with a cape to flourish, not bowing to a woman in the slave pens. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of Belle and the Beast. Dressed not just to kill, she was attired to show off. Any man with an interest in the softer sex would find it hard not to dream when she wore the gown the same way a cat wore its fur, slinking while standing and inviting a friendly stroke. A brief pang of alarm woke him to reality, she looked very enticing indeed. Any man would be hard pressed not to hand himself on her arm, especially here where freedom hinged on which side of the bars you stood. So if she traveled here unescourted then she knew how to handle herself. Too confident too, had she been here before? The fox mentally marked her off as likely a Mistress of some rather unsettling means especially given how close she stood to the one he labeled 'Beast'.

Humany? Humanesk? Mannish? The inumimi had too many adjectives to be bothered with though in theory the fox might one day assume a similar form, his family being what it was. For now the orangey fellow gathered a sense of something violent. He was still too young to read emotions across the room, at least not without focusing very obviously in public. While guards might object to a blatant display like that, guards were easy to manage because most of them wanted to be somewhere else most of the time. The Belle beside the Beast gave the fox a rare moment to think twice. He knew little about her beyond his own deductions of the moment. Whatever her disposition, people able to sense the use of powers tended to object strongly to the use of powers. A real conundrum in the fox's mind given they needed powers to sense powers. He set aside the paradox for another day and mentally ticked those two as 'people of interest and potential fun'.

The whole glance took but the time of his bow, the fox rising up from down low before Cage. He gave her a parting grin before meandering his way through the crowds, taking his time to pause by the pens. He might be followed still, which might make Cage also followed now that they'd chatted and parted ways. She looked too much like someone accustomed to dark dealings and she'd openly divulged a need for information. Bad luck for her then, the fox was already well into his scheme for leaving the pens without being followed too closely, or at least for leaving without the inconvenience of a knife lodged in his ribs. Step one consisted of finding one of the unbroken slaves near a guard post.

Unbroken slaves had the wonderful charm of hope usually. Hope that they might escape or hope that they might be bought by a kind person, or even a secret abolitionist. The particular quality chosen now was hope's ugly brother, rage. A few well slurred comments and knocks on the bars soon had something with feathers, and the most horrible piercing shriek imaginable, clawing talons at the bars in a spirited effort to disembowel the fox. Add to that a hip flask of whiskey that he poured partly in his mouth but mostly down the front of his shirt and you had the complete transformation from chatty bar goer to disorderly & drunken instigator. The volume increased as the guard shouted for quiet, the fox shouted suggestions on where the guard could stick his baton, and the slave just shouted in general. Undoubtedly the fox had more witticisms to slur but his monologue was ended with an enthusiastic escort out the door and a brief liaison with gravity that ended with his head down in the beach sand.

All in all, not bad for a day's hard work. The fox picked himself up to brush off the sand, discarding his liquored shirt in the process. Nothing made for bad company like departed spirits. Hands, and paper, in pockets the fox began to stride down the beach away from the side entry, tail swishing behind to keep time with his whistled tune. Try as he might, his mind continually returned to questions about the two women and that humanish man. Left unsated, curiosity really was a bitch.

[Krisshawnee]

Bell seemed all too calm leaning there against those bars with a potentially aggressive slave inside. Her ears were turned towards Taliesin even if she wasn't facing him. Guards were watching her and the slave, expecting him to lash out at any moment. Some believing they would get a show of some sort during the attack. Others waiting to play the hero or to have a reason to make the slave pay for his actions. Aggression in the cages wasn't uncommon and frankly, stupidity wasn't either. There were those who looked on the femme as though she might lack anything but air in that skull of hers. And really, dressed like that in this place? She certainly couldn't have much in that head, if anything at all. One of the guards took a step closer, taking up a position on the far side of the cage. Bell didn't show that she'd noticed but she most certainly had. Someone moving closer at just that time was bound to have something on their mind, be it intervening, stirring up shit, or just listening in in general. At any rate, it was reason enough for her take notice and pay attention to his actions.

Despite her notice of the guard, much of her attention was on the male within the cage. She didn't miss the way he looked her over as though she were a piece of meat to be had, snatched away and devoured at the most pleasant of conveniences. Not that she wasn't accustomed to such looks, you didn't dress in her choice of dress without expecting to draw out those with certain tastes. It suited her just fine and, on an average day, she worked it well just as she had earlier. Rolling her shoulder against the bars, she slowly turned to face the male within those cages. She recognized him for who and what he was as her psychic sight wasn't hampered by the glamor that hid him from the rest of the world. Bell was fully facing Talie now, those strange, star-dusted, icy-blue eyes looking at him... or so they seemed when they were more accurately looking through him. The Caracaljin slowly sank towards the floor in a crouch, her dress falling away from long, lean legs and leaving them bare from knee down if not a little higher. A few of the Mehndi Tattoos that marked her body were clearly visible, white as snow against her sun-kissed complexion. "Hey there, big fella. What are you in for?" She purred, quite well aware the guard on the other side of the cage was listening in as well. That meant choosing her words carefully, or else finding ways to distract him from the words. Her fingers were curled around the bars, cream colored gloves concealing the slender hands beneath. Her tongue flicked across her lips, the tips of feline fangs glistening in the low light of the atrium. "Surely you have better places to be."

Such a short few words and yet, the guard was listening all too close as though each word might mean something. With slow, almost mechanical movements, Bell turned her head to 'look' at the guard with those sightless but stunning eyes, not that most would know they were useless as anything other than to fill eye sockets. When next she spoke, it was to the guard and not to the slave in the cage. "You look like a man who could do a lot for a lady." There was a teasing note in her voice and that purr still lingered. None could see the short tail that twitched beneath that gown, hidden from view. "I might be interested..." At just that moment, another familiar form touched that psychic web and jerked an ear in Cage's direction. There was no mild amount of shock at THAT one... Bell tended to try to avoid the woman at all costs. Equally, she tried to avoid the 'spot light' that the White Rose so often took. Pissed Clover off to no end which also suited her just fine. In that moment, whatever else she might've been going to say to the guard was forgotten, temporarily. "Well well..." She murmured softly, carefully keeping her features neutral. "Seems it's true what they say. Lie down with dogs... you wake up with fleas." Bell was actually alluding to the fact Talie was canine... and White Rose just happened to show up too. The rumors that were wound around the two had not been forgotten, not even after all this time. There were those who had expected the two to vanish together and yet... one was inside the cage (Ahahahhaha) and the other just happened to show up.

The quick movements of a fox snagged her attention from the two at hand, briefly, but it did. Not because he was familiar, but because his movements were all too suspicious in her defensive mind. Bell had been here hunting and it paid to stay on alert if she wanted to survive. Suspicious actions usually had a purpose so she pushed her abilities to the limits to watch the fox, the overly acute focus on him making her miss the guard who'd come around the side of that cage and now stood mere feet away from her. "What might you be interested in, Miss?" The guard's deep voice asked, breaking her focus and snapping her back to the situation at hand. Finding the guard so close to her set the Caracal on edge and every hair along her neck stood at attention as she turned and quickly stood. Bell snarled inwardly at herself for being caught by surprise. There was a certain edge she normally prided herself on... was she losing it? Ears twitched as she let attention rest on the guard. "Mmm... yes." She offered him a pleasant smile and a batting of eyelashes. "I'd really appreciate it if you could see that I get the Pooch's papers, please? I might be interested in taking trouble off your hands." Bell seemed to recover herself quickly, giving a sweet smile to the guard.

It was strange, to her, for the male to be within those cages and she could hardly say anything with the guard watching so very close. It only made sense to make other arrangements if she wanted to ensure he hadn't received the same sort of orders she had. Eden might have been torn asunder but it seemed best to ensure they weren't all being set up. Especially since there were now at least three members of Eden in the same room. There was something to be said for coincidence. Namely... that it didn't exist. Not as far as Bell was concerned.

In that same moment, Bell searched the immediate area for her beloved pet. The little critter (who's name I haven't chosen yet. Sue me) was sure to be around searching for some sort of mischief. The link she shared with her stout familiar was one that spanned far greater distances than her psychic abilities could even come close to reaching. She quickly conveyed what she wanted, that was.... for the little beasty to find some way to draw White Rose out into the open. The last thing Bell wanted was to find the other woman at her back. You really didn't expose your back to anything but a corpse.

[GreenWolf]

Taliesin backed away from the woman who crouched in front of his cage, (in front of both of his Cages, but he didn't know that yet,) and marveled at the gold flecked blue of her eyes.  Perhaps 'flecked' was the wrong word, as these beauties were a fucking riddled pair of periwinkles.  Ironic, since 'riddles,' was what he believed he was hearing her speak to him.  He couldn't reply to her, the sentences making no sense after her introduction, and if his canine ears hadn't lifted to flicker at the sound of the encroaching guard, he might not have realized she was performing.  Perhaps that was the wrong word for it, but at the moment, it was all he could think of.  This beauty, with her gorgeously wrecked eyes and alluring markings on her skin, new who he was, he was sure of it.  He didn't realize how true those words were, that she couldn't see a thing with her peculiar peepers, but watching her face as intently as he was, when he wasn't watching the show her body was displaying for his enjoyment, he could catch her attention fading and returning at marked intervals, though he wasn't sure how, as she barely seemed to register a change.

He paid no attention to the fleeing fox, nor the arrival of the White Rose, whose name begot him his unknown title of 'Stinging Nettle,' but then, neither of them were anymore known to him then Eden or his own real name.  "Did you ..."  She was talking to the guard now, so he stood, his right hand lifting to let a single finger stroke his companion.  Her long, pale tail coiled itself around his pinky, holding onto it, so he left his hand up near his shoulder as he watched and listened.  Lust stirred within him, as she sounded like she was going to make a rental, and he found himself suddenly deciding that he was going to leave with or without this woman.  If she knew who he was, as he suspected, and was trying to help him, great.  If not, he would give her a night to remember before getting the fuck out of this hellhole and as far away as he needed, before regrouping, and returning, to burn this whole building to the ground.

It would be the least he could do for her, after stiffing her with being unable to return a rented slave.  As the guard she was speaking to turned to look Tali over with concern, not wanting to broker a deal that left this lovely lady dead-by-merchandise.  "What are you, fucking deaf?  Get the lady the papers, fucking now, or I'm going to find a way to chew through these bars, rip of your head, and make it into a new home for my squeaky friend here!"  He slowly grew from loud, to VERY loud, as his rage made it impossible for him to maintain control, though inside his mind, he was screaming at himself not to ruin this by getting thrown into solitary in Hell Beneath.  That rat's tail had unwound itself and the creature crawled behind his head to hide in his mess of long hair.  Somewhat calmer now, Tali continued, after closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose as the guard began to explain to the lady why she'd want to go with a better model.

He had moved closer to the front of the cage again, hands lifted, fingers curling around bars as he pressed his forehead against the cold metal.  "Listen here, before you become dog food.  Take a good, long look, at the lady before.  Do you REALLY think I'm going to fight, rather than go where ever she says and do whatever she wants?  I will stand on my head while she shoves shards of glass under my toe nails if it allows me to remain close enough to keep my eyes on her instead of you and the rest of this filthy fucking place.  Because I swear," and then he began to grow loud again, a growl creeping into his voice as his fingers curled against the bars tightly.  A close observer might notice fur rippling to life along his arms and hands as he started losing control due to the self-loathing fear that he'd already screwed the proverbial pooch.  "If I have to look at you, standing there without my papers, for another thirty seconds, I will gladly get thrown into the chokey again, for finding a way to disembowel you and decorate Hell Beneath with your internal organs!!!"

Panting heavily, his enlarged teeth slowly began to shrink back to the normal, simply enlarged incisors.  Amber hued eyes slowly bled back to green.  The fur, that had been sprouting along his arms, was receding back into his flesh.  The guard, was seriously considering a change of vocation, after he changed his small clothes, because he had caught some of those strange changes that now seemed to have disappeared as if he were hallucinating it.  When he returned to Belladonna moments later, it was to pass her the dog-man's paperwork, (which I'm now wondering if she can even read,) with the offered advice of, "Full set o' restraints, fer rental'r sale, kin be cheap when added to yer slave's costs." A slight pause as he glanced back at Taliesin again.  "We's be recommendin' it.  'is one ain't jus' posturin' ma'am.  'e's a killer."  He began to walk off, to give her time to peruse the papers, but added first, "An' if'n ye ask me?  Inumimi?  It's bullshite.  We's had 'em here before.  'e's somethin' else, entirely."