Logs:Playing With Fire (Spirit)

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Playing With Fire (Spirit)


Characters: Agatha, Axle and Maximo
Date: 2020-07-29
Summary: Maximo, Agatha and Axle pay a visit to the Shadow for a 'pub crawl' but wrangle with a spirit of arson instead.
Disclaimers:

Playingwithfire.jpg

What do you do when it's the middle of the week, you just finished watching all the Twilight movies and can't stand to look at yourself in the reflection on the hotel room television? You get the Hell out of there as fast as you can, make some calls and try to forget the last six hours of you life. What started as a simple 'hey, what's up?' soon turned to a question of 'what's up over -there-?!'... as is often to happen with overly curious sorts with a penchant for skipping in and out of material reality.

Gathering in Fixer turf mostly because Maximo dropped the ball on securing his own turf, Agatha, Axle and Max slip through the cracks of the universe and spill out into the Shadow. While Fixer territory is all well and good, properly patrolled and generally quiet, that's not what Maximo had in mind to get the haunting visions of abs and dead eyed stares from rattling around in his skull. Taking to four legs, he lead the charge south to more chaotic pastures. Namely just outside the French Quarter to the loud and rambunctious neighborhood of Marigny. If the sleepless and musically driven place was so rowdy during the day, he just had to see what it looked like once Helios had up and fucked off. Naturally, he drug Agatha and Axle along with him because... well, the last time he was out here got his ass kicked. Not that he would admit it. Especially considering how tiny that woman was. Yeesh.

--

Did he mention Twilight to Axle? Because if he dared to do that, she might *still* be laughing about it, even on four legs. Regardless, ever since Axle returned from her first foray into the Shadow, she has been itching to get back in there; however, she knew better than to go in alone. A cub Ithaeur might never be seen again, after all, if set loose on the Hisil unescorted.

As visions of 'And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.' and 'Say it... out loud. Say it.' torment Maximo, Axle pads along with the other two Uratha. Or attempts to remain with them. Because she's very easily distracted by every new and interesting thing that's path they cross in their trek southwest from North Kenilworth over to Marigny. If she doesn't sniff it, she pokes it with a paw -- or worse, tries to by-God taste it with the tip of her tongue, for pity's sake.

--

The Elodoth was easy enough to get a hold off, at least by Werewolf standards. It helps that Maximo's found Agatha's haunts with relatiev ease in the short time they've been here. When asked to go to the otehr side he doesn't need to be told twice, and was there fast enough that it seems like he might've been waiting just outside Fixer turf. Either that or getting drunk at a bar right ar9ound the conor.

He stands on both legs for now, still wearing that human skin as if it doesn't make him stand out any further. He has a half full bottle of beer in hand, and he takes a sip before addressing Maximo. "If I see some Cajun Brother Midnite or some such here I'mma leave y'all to it as an FYI."

--

Did Maximo mention his movie binge? Maybe a bit in passing. He can't fight the little pride and verbal pokes from Axle but he sure as shit can run faster so there's that. Once they hit Marigny, Maximo looking like a Honda Accord with fangs covered in a black shaggy coat, he felt... Better. The run down here was enough to get the lungs burning. Paws hot and thrumming from speedy impact. He had to stop now and again to double back and urge the newly minted Ithaeur onward. Places to be, you know?

Once in Marigny, the contrast between Little Woods and this neck of the woods couldn't be more apparent. The place was -thriving- at night. On the material side, local bands roared and crooned in little bars and scummy clubs, dives and speakeasies. Ghostly flickers of human shapes moving in here formations up and down the streets. Wildly colored spirits of neon and smoke mingled in hazy displays of almost unnatural colors. The buildings all but vibrated with energy stored from so many nights of revelry. It's not all fun and games here though.

Shifting back to two legs with the snap, crackle and pop of a quick change, Maximo stretches his arms up and out with a loud groaning yawn. "If you see him before I do, warm me because I ain't about to get into that mess." Scritching the back of his neck with one hand, he looks to the Elodoth with a faint smirk. "I should have gotten a to-go cup. Axe! Don't fucking lick that!" He suddenly shouts without looking to see if Axle was even guilty of the crime.

--


She's not too much of a slouch in her near-wolf form; it's the distractions that slow her up, rather than her own muscles and limbs. She's better than she was on four legs the first time she was here, when Agathangelos brought her through from the abandoned house. She cranes her neck to investigate a new item -- and her coat shudders in surprise as Maximo hollers at her. She was, indeed, about to touch the entity with the tip of her tongue, and her ears fold down and her tail goes between her legs as she, properly chastised, slinks closer.

She pauses close to where Maximo and Agatha have also halted. Stands there briefly. Works out in her mind the =need= to shift. And eventually follows through physically... Crouched on the ground in denim overalls, motorcycle boots, and a threadbare, blood red AC/DC tee shirt, she raises both hands to rake them back through her hair, quietly saying, "I'll get the hang of it, I just need to keep practicing. Just like repairing a clutch."

She remains crouched down low as she surveys their surroundings, elbows on her knees, eyes squinting at the flickering shapes and shadows, ephemeral ecto-luminescences and such-like. With a big grin on her mouth.

--

Agatha was wearing a faded out once blue hoodie, blue jeans, and now dirtied up white tennis shoes. He takes another sip of his beer, and it almost looks like he might be done drinking. Then he reaches into the front pocket of his jacket to pull out a golden hued fask, unscrews the top, and pours the contents into his beer. The flask is stowed away again, and he takes another long drink from his booze.

The booze is finished off as the other gain their bearings. Agatha keeps the bottle despite being done with, and stows it in that bpocket wit hthe flask. He pulls the hood to reveal a pair of tiny little horns and turns his now faintly glowing green gaze to Maximo. "If she wants to lick whatever she finds let her. She'll learn one way or another, yeah?"

--

The air was heavy. Not just humid New Orleans heavy but something all together different. It's like a hand pushing down to slow their travel, faintly pulsing with unheard bass from a thousand different songs. The main drag of Marigny is a dual sided clusterfuck of bars and music venues, all seem somehow full to bursting at the seems. Walls gently curving -toward- the street and near creating a canopy of faded brick as the structures near touch overhead.

"Like Vegas at three in the morning." He says to himself while watching Agatha produce a flask. He frowns then, not in disapproval. More like jealousy. The towering Iminir siiiiighs heavily at Agatha's rightful rebuke. "You're right, you're right. Sorry, Axe. Lick whatever you want... " A brow arches. "Just mind the door knobs. And whatever that is." Maximo upnods to what looks like a hellish yet cheerful fusion of a stereotypical blues man and what appears to be a saxophone. A golden, suit clad thing with a jarringly sharp mustache.

Maxi dresses up tonight by comparison. Sure, he looks like a Miami Drug Lord in his silk shirt and white slacks but the Corona Beer flip-flops make it. Looking to Axle crouched low, he nods down the seemingly endless stretch of music assaulted street. "Ever think about what a place looks like on the other side? Think about this place. All these people, emotions and everything, it all spills over. Been to any of these spots that aren't the Eventide?"

--

"I'll never know if I want to eat it unless I check it out," Axle interjects, unable to suppress that shame-the-devil grin on her face. The way her eyes are sparkling as she surveys their surroundings... It's rather manic. Long fingers delve into the surface on which she crouches and she lets the debris of dust motes trail out of her hand once more, sifted down to the ground.

She straightens up abruptly, head cocked to one side as she spies the creature that is half biped and half instrument. Hands clench and relax several times as if she's suppressing the urge to do something. "Been to several of them. I think we should look inside Dead Johnny's. But the Beshilu..."

--

"You'll want to eat all of it," comments the Elodoth. He lets out a belch, and then mutters, "'Scuse me." He wipes at this mouth with the back of his hand, and moves over to the cub to tap her on the shoulder. "We're predators and hunters, but you go about ravaging the world over here you end up paying for it all the same. If it ain't your rep, it'll be your face."

--

There's a moment where Maximo, looking to the horned Agathangelos to Axle when she makes a startlingly solid point, thinks he may just be the most normal person on the street. Which, when considering the unspeakably charismatic bearing and majestic stature of the man, makes no sense. They all stand out like sore thumbs. The wide berth given by the spiritual flora and fauna making that clear. "Yeah, I should have seen that coming. Didn't but should have." A chuckle, low and quiet as he shakes his head.

Drinking it all in, Maximo feels... invigorated. He'd been denying this half of himself too long as of late. It felt -good- to be here. Even if here was swarming with incredibly diverse and potentially dangerous -things-. "Don't get me started on that infestation at Dead Johnny's. Have half a mind to buy the place just to fire the bastard. With a shotgun." A wide, slim smile plays across his lips when Agatha explains the downside to Axle's impulses. "Works in reverse too. Cause enough noise on the other side, it shows here in time. Met this Menina months back, called himself a gardener. Was big on 'shaping the natural order'. Flowers or knives, usually. Scary bastard."

--

"I promise, I won't eat things until I check if it's all right first. Deal?" Axle asks as she glances over toward Agathangelos and his little horns. And she even attempts to reach over, left-handed, to touch one of the horns with the tips of those monkey fingers. At least the manic expression fades while she's doing that. She's not staring at the Elodoth with a creepy smile.

Glancing toward Maximo, she says, matter-of-fact, "It's all right. It'll be taken care of soon. I hired someone to look into it," she explains. And then that manic smile returns abruptly. "Hey. Let's go look inside the strip club; Chubby's. I have /got/ to see what /that/ looks like over here."

--

Agatha's quick to bat her hands away, gaze narrowing. "I'm gonna bite you if you touch my head," he warns. He pulls at the hem of his jacket, and clears his throat. As the conversation shifts to Johnny's he shrugs. "Fire. Just set the place on fire, or pay someone else to. It ain't that hard to make friendly with a spirit that'll happily do it, but the key is to make sure it doesn't stay around in that place for too. Don't want any mediums or other Werewolves looking into." He clears his throat, and starts moving towards one of the buildings.

"If you're so sure he's an eight-legged host why're you waiting? Find yourself a Hunter, get them to sniff 'em out, and let nature handle it's course. Can always just look for some spots around there where the barrier's thicker than than an IG model, and that's kinda proof enough. If not Dan, it could be something else." He reaches his arms high to the sky to stretch, nose lifted to the air to take in a few scents. "What're we looking for, though? Proof of something spidery, or trying to see what might make the cub shit herself?"

--

(Editor's Note: Maximo had to leave OOC. So we shifted gears.)

--

Whatever it was that he smelled pisses Agatha right the fuck off. He sneers, baring his teeth. A rote act even while in Hishu. "That son of a bitch," he grumbles. He starts going through his pockets, and after a minute of searching he finds what he was looking for. A gold compact bearing an engraving of the devil on it. He pops open the wee makeup kit, and wets his thumb as his gaze shots to Axle.

"C'mere and do this, and I'll let you touch one (1) horn. Just one." He dabs his thumb into the compact, smearing it with something white with an earthy smell. He starts painting his face into the facsimile of a skull, and then dabs his thumb again. This time with a red substance that smells like blood, roses, and something other worldly. Accents are painted on his cheeks and forehead. "Your turn," he calls to the Ithaeur. "I'll answer questions no the way."

--

Axle perks up when he speaks, head tilting to one side as she watches Agatha search his pockets for... what he comes up with isn't what she expected. When beckoned over, she doesn't hesitate; trust has developed from her for the Elodoth, in spite of his supposed reputation and the little horns and such.

A soft laugh escapes her when he offers that boon, and she reassures, "I'm not compelled to grab your body parts." She watches him paint himself; no questions asked. She dips the tips of long fingers into the compact's contents and it's applied to her own face. She whispers softly to herself as she does so; words in another language. Not the First Tongue, something decidedly Native American. A pinky's dipped into the red substance and she dots it here, there, then rakes stained fingers through her hair.

"Ready," she murmurs. And willing, apparently.

--

He goes into a golden yellow next and he hands compact over to Axle. He rubs the soft paste into his hands, and after there's covered he goes about paiting lines over his fingers. Maximo ends up having to play the part of the prey, and then Agatha begins the Rite.

In a play of haunting and hunting, the prey with nowhere to run. With every step one wolf waits, and where he turns another wolf is there to cut him off. This carries on for several minutes until that spiritual, ephemeral power begins to flood their forms.

With a snarl that warps into a howl Agatha drops to all fours. He wears the skin of the wolf, something fast to get around all the obstructions that modern civilization brings when on the hunt. Unlike their last time in the Shadow Agatha doesn't wait for Axle. He's already off, and darting through the spiritual traffic that floods the streets in search of their prey.

--

Her own interpretation of the paint is slightly different, but she still follows what Agatha does in broad terms. Exhilarated, the Ithaeur Cub does her part, plays her roll, and continues those under-the-breath chants -- as that is how she learned the rite from her father's pack. A few small twitches assault her as, in her efforts to perform the ritual and draw on the condition of the Siskur-Dah, she attracts to herself some of those curious entities.

One in particular seems to hover near her quite often; a wee spirit of industry. Caught up in the throes of the ritualism, there's no hesitation this time when she transforms, even if it is not as seamless as Agatha's shifting.

She follows. The trail he blazes is easily caught and all speed put on. No distractions now, no questions, no hesitations. She follows.

--

Agatha's usual, lackadaisical pace isn't seen as he lopes on all fours. He's fast, and moves with purpose. ~Smoke!~ he barks. She can see on the horizon that there is no sign of such a thing. No fires to be seen, and nothing burnt to smell on the air. ~Should not be here. Trespass.~

Their running lasts nearly an hour's time. They've dipped out of the French Quarter, and in the Business Disctrict things are noticeably different. The Superdome reigns supreme here, like a castle surrounding a bunch of tiny villages that make up the various pockets of downtown.

Agatha comes to stop near a candy shop. Wee Hursih or greed and gluttony rove about, feasting on weaker sugary spirits. Car spirits roam the ever wide street, and Agatha lifts his snout to the air.

--

She makes no move to stop and look, sniff, touch. Just lopes after Agatha, relying on the stamina of this form to enable her to make this trek. The environment is at once familiar and also wholly foreign. An occasional bastardized landmark jumps out to shout their location.

~No smell smoke.~ she communicates. She doesn't second guess, just relays her inability to detect what he is referring to in their environment. All the while, that little buddy spirit sticks with her, seeming to cling to her neck near that x-ish scar in her pelt where her tatoo is, in her Hishu form.

--

She doesn't smell smoke, but there's a hint of it. Something burnt, extra crispy, and hiding a bit away. Away from where Agatha was checking. The Elodoth is off checking around the shadow of a sandwich stop that's not likely doing so well in the meatworld. The lights are off, and the spirits inside are small enough not to make anything close to a meal.

Despite the Elodoth's distraction Axle's nose knows, and it leads her away towards a flower shop. It looked like a normal enough build, although squished to be barely bigger than a shack. Flowers block of much of the entrance, blooming eternal while minor spirits of love and apology flitter around. Behind the very heavy scent of slowers she can smell something there, sparking something up inside of the shop.

--

As Agatha begins to investigate, Axle catches wind of that scent and allows it to lead her in the direction of the flower shop. She carefully pokes around -- no playing now. No touching things with her tongue in this neck of the woods.

She doesn't make an attempt to venture inside the shop; not alone, at any rate. But she does attempt to look inside whether window portals there might be, raising up to put her paws on the shop if need be.

--

Inside the window she can see more of the flower spirits, frolicking and dancing about. Except in the back. Back there is a humanoid thing made of charred flesh with a smoking head. It doesn't spot the werewolf, but it stops lighting up as it quickly grows weary of the presence of Wolf's ilk.

--

~Here,~ chuffs Axle after she has dropped back down out of view of the window so as not to scare off the entity. Anxious, she begins to pace back and forth in front of the shop until she has Agatha's attention, her hide shivering from the nervous energy she's holding in.

--

Agatha returns without founding what he's looking for, and probably more than he bargained for. His face is covered in white powder, sweet and sugary and disguting to the wolf. He spots the Ithaeur, slowly walking over before he growls, ~What did you lick?~

--

She backs up a couple of steps as Agatha approaches with that white dusting on his maw, ears folding forward as she studies him. A flick of her head indicates the flower shop and she rumbles, ~No licking. Smoke head inside.~ She backs up closer toward the flower shop, gesturing toward it with her head once more in encouragement.

--

Agatha tries to shake some of the powdered sugar that's one his face, but to no avail. ~I go in, you jump in. Attack. Rip. Tear.~ He stares at her, relying more on his nose than his eyes. Then moves to the door. Rather, he moves into the wall and bumps into the glass, and accidentally spooks the spirits inside.

--

Perplexion mars Axle's maw as she studies the other wolf with the white powder on his 'face', a tilt of her head made as she peers at him. He bumps into the door and she winces, before she makes an effort to shift into her human guise, crouched down low to the ground so she isn't visible through the window.

"What is that thing in there?" she softly asks.

--

Agatha lifts his snout, sniffing at the air in between a heart's beat. ~Spirit. Inside,~ he growls low. The spirits inside are fluttering about madly, bumping into one another and ready to disperse. The burnt up spirit inside is heading out, though, and going through the building's back door. As it moves they can both smell it. Fire and smoke overtaking the once sweet scent permeating the area slowly and surely. ~Go!~ Agatha nearly roars. ~Stop it!~

--

That little mote still lurks up by Axle's neck; it floats to her ear where it winks and twinkles and shifts color in a manic kaleidoscopic display. The curly-haired Ithaeur listens to whatever the entity has whispered to her and, letting instincts surge to the surface, she raises up both of her hands in the direction of the window of the shop. The surface shatters from the buffet of wind, before she scrambles forward and over the sill and into the shop, pursuing the spirit that Agatha has commanded her to stop.

--

The flower spirits part like the red sea as soon as the window's opened so violently. The run and flutter away, giving Axle room enough to enter after the spray of shattered glass. The smoky spirit is gone, the door flung open where it disappeared.

Smoke begins to fill the air, and fire spreads along the walls. The flower spirits outside skitter about maddeningly, wilting as the smoke begins to billow outside.

--

Heights scare her. Water scares her -- in the way that she can't swim. So, deep water. Fire doesn't scare her any more than it does other creatures; however, bestial creatures have an instinctual fear of fire. For good reason. But for now, the Siskur-Dah condition wins out over terror as she sprints through the shop, flanked by the fleeing flower spirits as she moves toward the back door to follow after the smoky spirit, intent on catching up before smoke slows her.

--

The spirit is gone, but its scent its scent still wafts in the air. Swimming in and around the smell of the burning building. The thing has gone outside, and is leaving a slowly growing trail of distruction. It moves down the alley, damn near frolicking while dragging its burning hand along the backs of other buildings.

Agatha is behind Axle, but doing so fairly slowly. His presence is made obvious by the crunch of glass underneath his feet. Also the constant bumping into what furniture and spirits remain inside.

--

If air can be moved... It can be removed. And the absence of air is the absence of fire, right? Axle's mind turns on these thoughts as she follows the creature on its trek of unholy destruction. Only once she can see it does she throw up her hands, back to back, and then press them outward in both directions, as if willing the air in the vicinity of the spirit to be pushed away from it, to leave it in whatever vacuum might be created by her success -- or failure.

--

The wind gusts and buffets away the flames. The fires can't grow past where they started, although the spirits work do char the walls ever so lightly. The spirit turns, red pits for eyes brightening at the sight of a werewolf. This should strike terror in the spirit. Even spook it just a little bit. However, the faintly glowing brands of the cub only give the spirit a moment's pause. ~Never burned a wolf before...~

Agatha stumbles outside, coughing up black smoke and shaking soot from his already jet black fur. The ash falls around him, and he looks the opposite way of Axle and the spirit. ~Keep him down~ he barks to the Ithaeur.

--

"Do I look like Wonder Woman to you?" Axle can't help but snark as she faces down the red-eyed fiend whose fires she has stalled. She's new at all this and her powers don't extend all that far -- and not at all into glorious territories. But she's at least willing to try. She extends those lengthy index fingers and hers and draws circles in the air with them, attempting to stir the wind around the spirit to keep it isolated inside of a cyclone.

--

Wind is whipped around the spirit, sending much of its smoky aura all around the alley. The spirit sparks when it spots Agatha, but the blind wolf is now staring at a wall. It dips its head low, growling at the wall before shifting up and out. It wolf-man run his hand over his head, pricking his palm twice over with his horns. "Keep it still, and keep it here."

--

"Pay attention to me, Joe Camel!" Axle snarls at the being of smoke and fire. The wind swirls for a time but her Gifts are short-lived at this point in her abilities. She drops to a crouch and extends her body forward, releasing herself to shift into her near-wolf form, so she can launch her body forward with increased speed and the strength that being on four legs gifts her meagre form.

--

The spirit tries to echo the wolves words, but the only thing that comes out are, ~Burn and eat.~ It clenches the burnt fingers up, fires burning at its fingertips. It starts collecting up essence, and forms twin fires in each hand. ~Burn! And eat!~

The spirit cackles, its voice the sound of crackling flame. It brings its hands together, and when the two fires touch it forms a salvo that's headed straight for Axle. It misses the Ithaeur, and the fireball sizzles the concrete it does hit.

Agatha, for his part, is dragging his now bloodied hand along the walls. "Keep it down and busy. Don't let that thing outta your sight, and keep it here!" he shouts. With his other hand he pulls a lighter from his jacket, and keeps blindly walking.

--

~Laugh Demon,~ the near-wolf Ithaeur arrogantly communicates as she launches herself toward the spirit of arson. If in her human form she might have yelled something along the lines of, 'Laugh it up, fuck-boy!' But the sentiment is there, all the same. It's a glancing blow that hits the creature, but the weight behind it is just enough to knock it to the terrain. Axle might earn a deed name some day at this rate, as she circles her body with the intention of biting down on the closest part of the creature she can reach, when that time comes.

--

The spirit shows no fear for the cub, let along the blind wolfman trying to move around. It instead laughs louder, and reaches out for the werewolf. From its fingers fire licks the ground, and then starts snaking along the ground. ~Burn! Consume!~ it shouts, trying to set Axle aflame.

--

She's a cub but she's also god a bit of a Goddess complex at times; she's nineteen and still has delusions of immortality, in spite of the fact she has been wounded in fights in the past. Punched, stabbed in the stomach once. No further attempt is made to communicate with the creature; her hackles are raised in a combination of fear -- with its accompanying pungent stink -- and aggression, and the enormous tail lashes around behind her. She snaps forward with those immense jaws and chomps down on the nearest portion of the spirit.

--

The spirits attempts to set Axle on fire prove to be for naught. It thrashes under the weight of the giant wolf's attack, and tries to fight away. Its skin, if one can call it that, burns to the touch. It singes and burns away the hair away from her mouth, and the heat would be unberable if it weren't for her own healing.

--

Those jaws remain clamped upon the spirit's appendage, but there's a whimpering growl from the urshul's muzzle as she does so. Fire bad! The pain is constant while she has a grip on the spirit of destruction. She employs the strength of her size to start dragging the entity toward Agatha in small jerking motions.

--

The spirit continues fighting against the werewolf, but to no avail. It tries punching her, but those fiery fists are just love taps. Really hot, not fun love taps. Still, it tries to fight against her. Trashing, shaking, screeching.

Agatha continues moving around, nearing them bit by bit. He laid his bloodied ahand along the walls of the buildings in the ally, and comes to a stop to face away from Axle and the spirit. "Keep it there. I know it hurts, but just keep him there a few minutes longer.

--

Waves of pain assault her mouth and sting at her body where the creature is punching her. Fur smolders and stinks up the alley between phantom shops and she holds her ground while Agatha moves into that position, rolling her eyes to watch his movements. Axle continues to growl all the while, standing her ground.

--

The Elodoth continues on for a moment, and sadly empties the contents of the flask. The aroma of that stuff is strong, likely moonshine from someone around these parts. Whatever it is it stinks, and the strength of that booze can be smelled through the fire and the flame.

Agatha then drops strikes up his lighter, and drops the small flame into the puddle of fire and it blooms into something bigger. "Let 'em go," he tells Axle. "You should be fine." Beat. "I think."

--

'I think.' echoes in her mind as the flame blossoms, in the wake of being instructed to let go of the spirit. Axle is stubborn for a few moments. Doesn't want to let go of the prey at first, snarling deep in her chest. But she relinquishes her hold on the creature and scurries backwards, snapping her jaws at the open air as the pain of the burning in her mouth continues for the span of breaths it takes for the burn wounds to heal, tongue put to work to soothe the spots on her body that she can reach, that the spirit of arson burnt.

--

When she lets go the spirit lashes out. It tries to, at least. It reaches out, and tries to light her up. Nothing comes. Just a bit of extra fire, that stops inches away from its hand. "I told you what'll happen if you didn't do what we agreed to. For that you're gonna stay here until I let you go." He stops then, turning briefly to Axle. "Unless you want to do something to it, then by all means go ahead."

--

It takes a few moments before she is sound. Once the wounds are licked and healed, Axle transforms once more, into her semblance of a human, raising both hands to rake them back through her hair. As a cub she's still most comfortable in this form, for now. And its easier for her to express herself fully. "Naw. I'm good. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord; and I'm not the Lord of anything. Especially around these parts."

--

"Alright, fire mouth, let's head on out." Agatha stows the flask in his pocket, and sniffs the air again. "Let's get you home because I ain't explaining to another pack how I got their cub in trouble again." He starts walking again, and then collapses on all fours. ~Race you,~ he barks back before taking off at a breakneck pace.

--

"They're not the boss of me; we don't have an Alpha," Axle retorts with a smirk, as he remarks about such an explanation. She looks at the imprisoned spirit, then toward the area that the fire has touched, as if to ensure no more work need be done. Then she has to rush to transform herself and race off after the Elodoth, lest she be left behind.