Stoddard Stables We are the storm and the wicked inside

[Gaius Merula]

Cinder (Abidance) Complete success

“Hmm,” the raven croaked out, strangely hollow, near brittle. “The excess of magic... taking its toll. It seems the Fates have passed their judgement,” he offered, words slow and effortful, with no regard for how his words may be hard to comprehend.

But even as his connection to his physical body turned fragile, he finally managed to grasp that thread of equilibrium. Clinging to that, he extended his neck and stretched to try to touch his beak to her arm, even as his physical form seemed to shrink into itself, becoming more skeletal by measures.

He was close enough that the magic would slowly suffuse over Dune's arm whether he managed to touch her or not, but the touch was often a vital element when it was a healing touch. Or as close to healing as Gaius' magic could do. Return equilibrium, at best. There were no shadows accompanying it, only the sense of things realigning to where they belonged in the order of the universe.

Grounding 0/4
Luck 3/4

[Angela Dune]

She didn't understand what Merula meant by the Fates, but as he stretched out his neck, she automatically reached for him in turn, ready to catch him out of fear he was about to fall off the fence. Fortunately, it didn't happen like that, but then she actually felt the wash of magic over her arm.

The human half-recoiled, turning her weak side away as the sensation slithered up her arm, like an itch deep beneath the skin. An itch in her very bones that made her look down at her arm, her mouth dropping open in a soundless gasp. Nothing seemed to be happening overtly, but Dune had the strange feeling of things... settling in. Her muscles spasmed for a moment, before the ache, the buzz- the odd sensations fell away altogether, leaving Dune only with the low-grade pain she was used to.

A little less, actually. In fact, her arm felt somewhat... numb, but when she rolled her shoulder, she realized it wasn't numbness. It was just a lack of pain. Looking back up at Merula, she offered the bird an uncertain, if pleased smile, before chiding gratefully, “You shouldn't have- you're losing feathers.”

[Gaius Merula]

“Mhmm,” the bird croaked out, voice going hollow and thready. The magic had passed from him to her, doing its work, although Gaius could not know what that work felt like to Dune.

Sluggishly, the Strix fluffed his wings, sending a few more feathers falling and twisting in the small distance between the top of the fence and the ground. He knew if he breathed, it would rattle in the tiny chest his raven shape had, but he didn't need to do that, so he didn't breathe at all.

Dune's chiding eventually got a more detailed response from him, feeling the carcass of the raven tightening around hollow bones. He drew in a breath, needing air to speak, to make noise, although the logic there was perhaps strange since he was a talking raven.

“Everything... comes at a cost,” Gaius murmured, resettling himself on the fence, taking a metaphorical moment to breathe. He would have to fly back to the city before the feeling of being wrung out and desiccated faded.

[Angela Dune]

Merula looked like a stiff breeze would reduce him to a cloud of feathers. Grimacing as the words rattled out of his frail frame, Dune stepped close and offered her good arm. With the other, she started pulling her jacket back on, gingerly shrugging it over her wounded shoulder.

There was no need to be so careful, though. The pain was a phantom, something her brain habitually prepared for rather than a reality. However, she stowed her astonishment until she worked out what was wrong with her bird friend. She couldn't even be sure it would last. Maybe the magic was just reacting favorably to her body, and it would eventually fade. So she didn't put too much hope in it just yet.

“Anything I can do to help?” she asked softly, her posture softening with care if he decided to take the offer of her shoulder. “Take you somewhere, get you something? More wine?”

He'd asked her for that back when they'd met in the maze. Was that the cost of his power?

[Gaius Merula]

As Dune offered her right arm for Gaius to hop onto, the raven regarded her arm briefly, beady eyes dull and absent of his usual sly curiosity. Eventually, he gingerly stepped from the fence to her arm, trying not to flap his wings and dislodge more feathers. Should he lose enough, it would make flying a problematic affair. Dune's offer got a croaking chuckle out of him as he settled heavily on her forearm, with no energy to climb up to her shoulder.

“Wine, although quite delicious, will not offer reprieve,” the Roman managed to say, the gravity in the statement underlined by his voice's hollow and thready quality. “Blood or flesh will restore me if you wish to–” his voice rattled alarmingly, even as he continued, “–offer.”

[Angela Dune]

Though Merula was a bird that was slowly dissolving, he was still quite heavy, and she lifted her other arm to grasp her wrist, letting him stay perched on her forearm. Facing him now, she grimaced at the weak sound of his chuckle before he gave her an honest answer that sounded... Well, perfectly normal to her.

Blood, flesh, souls, other human bits and pieces... Supernaturals loved them, while humans liked to keep those things to themselves. So selfish of them! Dune gave the bird a grim smile but didn't balk. For once, she was paying the supernatural after the fact, although she--perhaps unwisely--didn't see it as payment. This was helping someone she was willing to consider a friend.

“Sure, yeah,” she said softly, nodding before glancing around from the little gaggle of horses and then back to the barn. They were alone, a woman talking with her disintegrating bird friend on a misty morning. “I can donate some blood--It grows back, and I like stayin' pretty, y'know how it is.” She smirked, joking gently as she started carefully walking with the raven on her arm, thinking she'd return to the car.

[Gaius Merula]

Dune’s grimace was sign enough of how Gaius looked. Pitiful as he hollowed out, his immortality stayed firm, but his physical shape shrank in on itself. He was not self-conscious, knowing his magic had gotten used productively and was worth the cost. As Dune’s smile morphed into a grim smile, Gaius recognised that she was well aware of what was most valuable for many supernatural creatures.

Her following easy acceptance did not wholly surprise him, but he had not expected it, the raven tilting his head as regarding her gravely. Dune had proven herself knowledgeable about the give and take of the magical world. Perhaps she saw it as the payment for what he’d offered her, although Gaius had given that freely, on his honour and without ulterior motives.

However, the Roman was particular about those he chose to feed from. It could be a dangerous affair, and he much preferred to know the measure of them to anticipate treachery or loyalty. He did like Dune, and she had proven herself reliable, so he expected little risk from accepting the offer.

“A most gracious offer,” Gaius wheezed, presenting it with gravitas despite or because of his state. He managed to maintain his balance as she began walking, noting how she was supporting her hand. He was heavy, he knew. “Grātiās tibi agō. I must... change to drink. A bird's beak is an indelicate tool for such things. A monster's mouth is better.”

Trans. I give thanks to you.

[Angela Dune]

Dune couldn't help the shiver that spread over her shoulders, although her grin grew crooked rather than disappearing. Merula's wording was... evocative, and while she wasn't surprised that he was a shapeshifter, her imagination was left to run wild about what a 'monster's mouth' would look like. A monster that spoke Latin, which just made her think he was ancient. She'd be a fool not to be slightly apprehensive about it. There was, however, an unsaid reassurance that he didn't mean to kill her that she thought she could rely on.

He wouldn't have strained himself with his magic if he didn't care for her life. Or at least her continued existence. The cost-benefit ratio didn't add up, so she felt as comfortable as one could offering their blood to a creature with a 'monster's mouth.' She walked along the narrow path between the paddocks and gave the bird a sidelong look.

“You're just gonna let my imagination get away with me like that?” she teased mildly, referring to his vague wording. “Should I cover my eyes, lest I go mad?”

[Gaius Merula]

Avoiding the plain truth while not outright lying was something Gaius was quite skilled at, but most let him get away with it even if they realised. Of course, one did not press supernatural creatures for plain truths without risk. Dune toyed with asking but held off on doing so outright, teasing at the things he'd left unsaid.

“You may certainly imagine what you want,” Gaius said, letting out a croaking laugh, wheezy but still amused. “I am not Mania, to induce madness in those I possess, but shroud your eyes regardless. Look not beyond the curtain.”

He lowered his break, ruffling his throat feathers with it; although they had lost so much volume, they were no longer puffed up impressively.

[Angela Dune]

Dune laughed because she didn't know how else to feel about this proposition. She wasn't put off, but it was darkly humorous to her; although looking at him wouldn't cause her to go insane, he didn't want her to look at him anyway. The raven was the more palatable of his forms, and her mirth petered off when she saw the way his lustrous feathers had lost all their volume. It was an odd sensation to feel sympathy for a flesh-eating, blood-drinking shapeshifting monster, but she couldn't comprehend anything but the charming raven she knew.

Her imagination was both running away from her and failing her at the same time. As such, she didn't have much else to do but look ahead, past the office, to the parking lot. Her car was there, but with the sun getting higher and warming the air, the parking lot was filling up with staff cars, and more people were wandering the stables.

“Alrighty, I can do that,” she said before glancing behind them, back the way they came and hummed in thought. Looking back at Merula, she bobbed her eyebrows and took a turn that took them down another path that led down the hill and along a more secluded path through the woods. Her tone turned jokingly flirtatious, “I'll find us somewhere private too.”

[Gaius Merula]

Cinder (Daywalker) Complete success

Gaius watched Dune consider, wondering now if she would withdraw her offer as he had denied her to look upon him, even as she laughed. His secrets were manyfold, and as such, he carefully maintained a distance between his shapes. He imagined it would not be disastrous for Dune to know what lay beneath black feathers, but it was a secret he was most comfortable keeping until something forced his hand.

But there was no withdrawal, only her easy acceptance reiterated. Dune considered the paths around them, the brightening sky shining light on their trail and making the Strix feel pressed down upon, even if he knew it would not burn him as it might another of the undead. Still, his feathers fell, the shrunken-in body of the raven becoming more apparent the longer he persisted. The sooner he was out of it and fed, the sooner he would feel much improved. Dune seemed to think much the same, picking a path and heading towards the woods.

Even as all these inconvenient factors converged on Gaius' physical form, he did not miss Dune's levity, her flirtatious joke in the face of the unknown he'd presented her. The raven gave another throaty chuckle, hollow but no less genuine.

Luck 2/4

[Angela Dune]

As Merula laughed and lost more feathers, Dune hastened her steps, taking them across the small pasture and down to the tree line. Once they were beneath the trees, her steps slowed, and she looked around. The woods were dim in the early morning, a little chill with morning dew, but slowly growing warmer and lighter.

After having been called there to investigate, Dune doubted anyone would be asking where she was going or why. She could make up a reason. It wasn’t long before the horse-trodden path curved and put the stable and parking lot out of sight. Her steps slowed then, and she looked at the withering bird balanced on her arm.

“I have a scarf in my pocket,” she said, as she crouched and extended her arm toward the ground so he could climb down.

[Gaius Merula]

Cinder (Lesser Shapeshift) Exceptional success

Gaius rocked silently on her forearm as they walked, nothing to say as the hunger gnawed at him. Dimly he remembered his days as a young Strix, where it was near impossible to resist the pull of needing to feed and draw others' essence into himself. It had not been mere hunger, not like a human understood it, but a swelling pit of nothingness that needed to be filled with what humanity considered most taboo, and nothing else would suffice.

After two millennia, the hunger felt the same, pressing down on his body in a way that was impossible to ignore, but he had honed himself in the thousands and more years to not give in to it like the ravening beast he had the potential to be. It ruined such a reliable food source otherwise, so Gaius took the role of a hunter who only took what he needed and did not indulge.

In moments of pressure, such lofty ideas still stayed his hand even as Gaius' mind focused on the solid, steady heartbeat of the human that carried him. If a bird could salivate, he would, feeling the gentle give of the flesh of the arm underneath his claws. How easy it would be to dig in and rip the flesh so he could devour what he needed. But there was already an easy solution, which made the thoughts intrusive little urges that could not come to pass.

So as Dune carried them into the woods, the speckled sunlight peeking through the canopy in its early morning light, the Strix waited, hungry and anticipating. When she crouched and lowered her arm, Gaius gently extricated himself from his perch, careful with his thinning, wicked claws so he would not tear at her. She spoke of scarves, but the Strix was focused on the sound of the rush of blood, her heart pumping her pulse, as he circled behind her.

Situated behind her, Gaius forced his transformation, painful but necessary, the flutter of feathers and shifting fabric before he was again human behind her. Although not quite human, his skin was rougher, with tight groupings of pins where feathers were growing and other spots where the black feathers had already erupted in his hair and around his hairline, on his hands.

The hunger pressed down, and Gaius lifted his hands to settle on her shoulders from behind her, murmuring a hollow, “Noli pugnare,” and intended to lift a hand to cover her eyes if she did not do it herself.

Luck 1/4
Trans. Don't fight.

[Angela Dune]

If Dune took a ranking of the most foolhardy things she had done in her life, this would rank up at the top. As the trees closed around them and she set Merula down, she felt the seeds of apprehension in her gut bloom. When the large bird stepped behind her, it squeezed around her stomach while her heart thundered.

Alone with a monster who intended to feed on her, and she’d walked into it willingly. If she died now, Dune figured she’d deserve it, but somehow she remained calm. Her breathing was somewhat tight, but she continued to rest on the assurance that Merula had no intention of hurting her. Would he gift her a ring and soothe her arm to the point of losing his feathers if he intended on leaving her a drained husk? It didn’t seem likely, but there was still a chance. Dune was, rightfully, scared. But she was also stubborn and maybe a bit stupid. She’d agreed to it, and she wouldn’t just turn tail and run like a coward.

Occupying herself in the silence, her scarf spooled out of her pocket as she pulled it out, but she stilled when she felt a touch on her shoulder. Her head twitched, the instinctive urge to turn around and look, but another hand slid over her eyes. A human hand. He spoke, saying something she didn’t understand but sounded like a warning.

Swallowing, she pressed her free hand over Merula’s on her eyes, feeling his knuckles on her palm. Rubbing her thumb over his wrist, she nearly jerked her hand away when she blindly touched the odd texture of feather pins, brain panicking slightly over the unexpected. However, she steeled herself with another breath and turned her face into his hand, and gripped his fingers.

“You don’t feel like a monster,” Dune said, soft and breathless.

Unaware she’d dropped her scarf, her other hand returned to her pocket to grip her wayfinder badge. It wouldn’t do her any good now, but the woman took comfort in its shape and heft.

[Gaius Merula]

Grounding

It was easy to tell Dune was afraid, the cadence of her heartbeat giving her away, the speed of her breathing, but fear did not entice the Strix. Gaius observed it as a matter of fact and a possible sign that she might struggle, but he laid aside his suspicion when she did not resist when his hand covered her eyes.

This was the moment for her to run if she wanted to, but all she did was place her hand over his. The trailing fingertips over the back of his hand, moving to his wrist, explored what she could not see, a slight hesitation when she touched the feathers growing out of his skin, the telltale signs of what he was. Striges, creatures of omen, harbingers of war and civil strife, metamorphosed flesh eaters and blood drinkers.

Gaius enjoyed going against type, but in this, eyes fixated on the curve of Dune's neck, trapped in his grip, he had to give in to nature. Her soft comment got a dark chuckle out of the Roman, reflecting on how wrong she was even if he spent most of his time not looking actively monstrous.

Shifting his other hand from her shoulder to her waist, he braced it around her so she would not wiggle or drop while he fed, worsening the wound he'd have to inflict. As he did this, he also pulled her head to the side, comfortably cushioning her head against him as he bent down, opening his mouth as he felt the sharp teeth that allowed a more straightforward feeding than taking a knife to his victim prickling at his gums.

As Gaius put his mouth against the spot on her neck that throbbed with her lifeblood, he opened wide and bit down, tightening his grip to prevent sudden movements. He had no means of dulling it, so she felt the pain of his sharp teeth piercing skin, but he did not sink them in deeply. He intended not to spill a single drop, greedy and covetous, so it would be a slow and steady feeding. The Roman sought to recover his lustre, not heedlessly waste blood and drain her dry.

It was not an immediate feeling of relief, but her taste on his tongue had him humming in pleasure. Fresh blood tasted the most exquisite to him, directly from the source. Few enjoyed being on the receiving end of the bite, especially not his, so it was a rare treat. Sharp blades and dripping blood were far more common, like sub-par wine, but no less nourishing to a thirsty man.

[Angela Dune]

Merula’s low, dark chuckle gave her goosebumps, a little thrill tickling down her spine, but she had a history of engaging with dangerous men. Or monsters, she supposed, though when he gently pulled her back against him, he felt like a man. Man-shaped, from what she could tell, his chest against her back and her head on his shoulder.

The anticipation had her panting slightly, the adrenaline dizzying, and she was shifty on her feet, so she was glad for the arm around her waist, even if it locked her in place. Fortunately, her monstrous raven friend didn’t leave her waiting too long. His mouth, cooler than she expected, found her neck, and a moment later, there was a pinch of pain. When he started feeding, it bloomed into a dull ache, and she gasped softly, clenching her jaw. The hand in her pocket shifted to grip his arm around her middle while she did her best to relax. The woman’s body was stiff, arched a little away from him, but as she forced herself to breathe through it, she loosened, leaning back, letting her eyelashes flutter closed. It became bearable after a few seconds, even if it made her neck tingle and slowly numb.

Merula’s hum of pleasure surprised her, sending a jolt of odd delight through her, and she hummed automatically in response, approving and eager for more of that. Then, biting her bottom lip, Dune took a chance and reached up to skim her fingers over his cheek.

[Gaius Merula]

As Gaius supped from the wounds he'd made on her neck, Dune took some moments to settle. At the forefront of his mind was that she did not struggle, even after the initial gasp and stiffening of her body when his teeth had sunk into her skin. He barely noticed when her hand gripped his forearm, the move inconsequential to the Strix's goals. He noted how, bit by bit, the tension in her body released, leaning back against him. She was not relaxed, something Gaius did not think possible under her current circumstances, but she was adjusting.

His eyes, closed in pleasure and relief at his feeding, opened as he felt her touch his cheek. Gaius flicked his eyes to her face, still covered by his hand, and he would not move his head lest he risk spilling his precious food and making a mess of her. Was it a human urge? Seeking closeness in a time of stress, perhaps. Narrowed eyes tried to read the meaning on her face, but half-covered like it was by his hand, he could only see her lips and jaw. Her teeth set against her lip was a vague enough sign, but not one he'd seen on Dune before.

Through his analysis, the Roman tolerated the touch, knowing her wandering fingertips would feel the feathers growing down his temple and towards his cheekbones. She would feel the feathers streaking through his hair if her fingers dared to wander far enough. It was a mere taste of his chimeric nature, a sign of what would come should he neglect to care for himself, the monstrous fate that was the alternative to this parody of life.

Lifting his mouth enough to speak, although he lapped up the blood before it welled and overflowed, Gaius murmured a distracted, “Do you wish to sit?” before he latched on again. Running his tongue over her skin, he was careful to catch all of the red staining her skin before settling over the punctures to suckle at the point.

[Angela Dune]

Dune felt more feather pins beneath her fingertips, and she followed the grain along Merula's cheekbone, up into his feathery sideburn. So, he was shaped like a man, but a feathered man was undoubtedly a monster. The woman decided not to think about it too hard and fought the urge to map the planes of his face with her fingers. She would rather not distract the creature with his teeth in her throat by groping his face. So, instead, Dune let her fingertips rest along his jaw, feeling the minute movement of his throat as he sucked her blood.

Then, he lifted his mouth away, leaving a wet, tingling spot on her neck, but he didn't let her go, the way he licked at her wounds, making them sting, telling her that he wasn't done. The question made her mouth crook up in a strained smile, although that was more in reaction to the discomfort than a lack of amusement. Where would she sit? In his lap? That made the most sense to her, without knowing his lower half's appearance. Merula could be a bird centaur monster of some sort. Who the hell knew?

Still, she licked her lips and nodded. “Yeah, I'd like that,” she said, before smirking. “D'you have a lap?” Lap or no, getting off her feet would be better; the woman was locking her knees with tension, which would only lead to trouble with her blood flow. As he set his mouth against her neck and started sucking the wounds, she groaned softly and returned to gripping the hand resting on her waist. It stung at first and then returned to the dull ache that bloomed up to her jaw and shoulder blade.

[Gaius Merula]

Gaius was not of the mind to answer her silly question, unaware of where her mind was going. Instead, he let go of her neck again to take a step back, forcing her to follow as he still gripped her. Backing up against a tree to brace himself against it, the Strix began to sit down slowly, the rough bark no doubt tearing at the delicate fabric of his suit as he slowly knelt to sit, bringing Dune along with him. He gave her time to get her limbs in order, but he settled and crossed his legs before lowering her into the cradle of his lap.

His eyes were transfixed on the blood welling out of the two puncture wounds, but feeding while she shifted around to sit would be awkward. The Roman held off, the picture of control, even as he metaphorically salivated at drinking more of her blood. Instead, he settled for lightly swiping his tongue over her skin to catch the blood before it dribbled down her shoulder and stained her clothing, waiting for her to situate herself.

[Angela Dune]

No answer, but with how he moved, that was enough of an answer. It was a delicate operation to keep her balance as Merula guided her backward, but she followed, feeling his chest press to her back when he found something to brace against and hearing the sound of fabric on tree bark. Bending her knees as he went down, she trusted him to have her as she was pulled off balance and discovered that he did, indeed, have a lap. Again, a normal human lap, with two feet, two knees--two legs, crossed and cradling her butt.

The movement stimulated the blood welling from the wounds on her neck, the liquid pooling on her skin hot and wet. Dune felt him avidly lapping at her skin, the texture of his tongue no longer stinging but not entirely pleasant. She liked it better when he was enjoying her body, even if it was to take her blood, and was a little desperate for more of that, but she didn't say anything about that--that was just her messed-up head.

Settling in, she dropped her hand from his on her face and rested it on his knee. Then, lifting her legs, she let both drop off to one side, her knees resting on one of his, and tipped her head back on his shoulder. She was relaxing more and more, the pain more of a broad unpleasant sensation rather than something unexpected, and she could block it out. The fear was gone, her heartbeat even and strong, and now it seemed to be a matter of waiting until he was done with her.

[Gaius Merula]

Once Dune's head dropped back against his shoulder, Gaius took it as a sign to continue. It was all blood, nourishing and sustaining blood, but lapping it up wasn't his favoured manner of feeding, so when he set his mouth over the punctures again, he allowed himself a quiet sigh of satisfaction. The arm around her waist loosened, and Gaius settled it innocently on her hip as he hummed again in understated pleasure.

He only intended to drink around the same as a donation of blood, just enough to satisfy him but not fully sate, a few minutes of momentary bliss. The Roman was not entirely concerned about how comfortable the ordeal was for Dune, only that she would not struggle or fall while he fed and risk a slip of a fang to end it all too soon. It was a good sign that she was not tense and struggling like he was a predator locked on the throat of prey, shaking the life out of her. It bode well for what came after all this, as he did enjoy her presence when he came across her. Perhaps she might even offer again, but at best, Gaius hoped for no ill will and strange human behaviour in the aftermath.

Lifting the hand from her hip, he idly brushed her hair away from her neck, where it tickled his face. Another sigh escaped, exhaling out of his nose, as he closed his eyes and felt the spark of power and strength returning to his body. He knew the budding feathers would slowly withdraw until the next time.

[Angela Dune]

A consummate social butterfly, Dune's mind idly flitted through things to say, comments she wanted to make to break the silence, but decided to hold her tongue. There was no way Merula could respond, and if she started filling the air with noise, she would miss the little signs of satisfaction that were her messed-up recompense for the pain. So, instead, she was silent, focusing on her breathing, adjusting to the cool body beneath her, and working out what he looked like from how he felt through her clothes.

Taller and broader than her, certainly. Wearing clothes--quality clothes, from how his trousers felt under her fingertips--but covered in feathers around his head and hands. So, he existed in human society. Did that mean he could hide those pinions? His voice was unchanged, too... Would she recognize him if she met him when he was shaped as a man?

Caught up in her thoughts and relaxing into Merula's lap, she barely noticed when her eyes started to grow heavy, her thoughts darkening to nothing but circling lights behind her eyelids. After a few minutes, her body felt light and floaty, like she was about to fall asleep, sinking into painless unconsciousness. It wasn't too much, very similar to how she felt after donating blood but more relaxed with no technician to fuss over her, but she broke the surface and the quiet with a little inhale.

“Not too much,” she said softly, stirring in his lap. Her hand gently squeezed Merula's knee.

[Gaius Merula]

Cinder (Abidance) Exceptional success

His feeding was near enough done by his measure, and he had taken as much as he'd allow himself when Dune stirred and spoke. Gaius limited himself to another swallow of her blood, tasting it on his lips as he pulled back, smoothing his fingertips over the two wounds in her neck to allow a spark of magic to knit the skin together. It would not solve any bruising from the extended bleeding, but she would not be spilling more than needed.

Listening for her heartbeat and finding it steady, Gaius settled his hand back on her hip, dried blood on his fingertips. It was not quiet in the woods, the susurration of the leaves alongside the sounds of animals scurrying in the early morning, but it was free from human noise but for the distant stables and Dune. They had time to sit on their laurels, just this once.

“Sit and rest until you've recovered,” Gaius instructed, kindly but firm. His voice was quiet in the woods, but now without the strange hollowness from before. He still had a hand in front of her eyes and would keep it there until he could transform again, but for now, he was content to let her rest.

[Angela Dune]

The wounds closed with one last little sting, and as Merula put his hand on her hip, Dune reached up to gingerly pat her fingertips over her neck. The spot was tender, likely to bruise, but with the wounds gone, she reasoned it probably wouldn’t look worse than a massive hickey.

She could feel his voice, strong and full once more, inviting her to rest. Sighing with mild relief as the pain faded, Dune took the invitation relaxed completely into the unseen monster at her back. The rush of hormones after the pain and adrenaline rush had her floating on a little high.

“You sound so much better,” the woman murmured, a satisfied smile in her voice as she dropped her hand into her lap and flexing her fingers. Her shoulders tingled on both sides for different reasons—her left from residual magic and her right from ebbing pain. She was ready to call in for the rest of the day, but she wouldn’t. Remembering she had a handy sandwich in her pocket from earlier, she shifted to root around for it.

[Gaius Merula]

“Mhmm,” the Strix agreed, noting how she relaxed against him more fully now that he wasn't attached to her neck. It was interesting to read her responses, the smile he could spot on her lips, a sort of satisfaction for the result of his feeding.

Interesting, to say the least, most found it unsavoury. Perhaps it was her chosen career or simply her; regardless, it was a favourable outcome for Gaius, even if he still did not want her to tie Merula to Mayor Blackbird. That was his sense of confining his life as an occasional mischievous undying away from his thriving political career. If things went as planned, they would never cross in any significant way.

As he mused, Gaius watched her search for something in her pockets. Was it the sandwich he could still smell?

[Angela Dune]

Finding the sandwich, still lukewarm from sitting in her pocket, she pulled it out with a triumphant noise and blindly held it up for Merula to see, but didn't immediately unwrap it to chow down. Getting crumbs all over her lap was fine. Getting crumbs all over someone else's lap as collateral was rude.

Still, the intent was there, even if she was in no rush. A few minutes from now and she'd seriously think about it, ask Merula if she could get up and perhaps change back so she didn't catch a glimpse of him. But for now, she just mentally composed her report back to the Exchange concerning the circle. She would be thorough, including notes about her interaction with the raven, and for her edification, notes about her arm. The limb and whatever latent curse it held was getting worse, Dune was sure of it, but all of that and the rest were problems for her in the near future.