Glaw

We are Fantastic Stars in the Sky!

The London Eye! Fantastic! He never would've thought of it! The Doctor gave Rose a gleefully amazed grin, glad to have been the one dragged off toward danger. Her eager curiosity fueled his own energy, until he thought he might go mad if he stood still a moment longer. He took her hand again and yanked her along the riverside with a triumphant laugh; the laser fire followed them like mosquitoes.

What was his plan, then? Seagulls screeched overhead, and a cargo ship hulked past on the river; somewhere they'd lost their plastic pursuers. They'd come full-stop to the edge of the Do Not Enter signs of the closed Ferris wheel -- but whoever paid attention to signs anyway? The Doctor hopped a fence, jumped down closer to the water and reached up to help Rose do the same. "Pretty much, yah!" he answered her question, and he gave her a wink as he grabbed her hand. He'd barely turned round when he stopped short, and his expression fell in surprise.

Rose was standing in front of them.

Well, it wasn't actually Rose. It looked like Rose, but this Rose was a bit off on her shiny, soulless expression. She wore the same clothes, her hair was in the same style, she even had the same makeup molded creepily into her cold hard face.

Plastic-Rose was pointing a hand at the two, who were pretty much caught between a wall and the water below.

"Well hello!" the Doctor crooned, grinning even as he raised his hands above his head. "You've got better at this, didn't know you could make a copy without an original, very sophisticated, who did your hair?"

"We knew you'd come" Plastic-Rose replied in a slightly flatter version of Rose's own voice. "A strand of her hair was on the boy's jacket. That's all we needed. We'd hoped you would have left her behind."

"DNA replication, brilliant!" The Doctor smiled and nudged Rose (the real one), expecting her to be as shocked and impressed at the Nestene advancements as he was. "Not modest either, I like it."

Plastic-Rose held out her other hand, the one that wasn't loaded. "Give us the key."

The Doctor raised his chin. He said, "No," like a defiant child.

Plastic-Rose's fingers dropped, and the laser whirred as it powered up.

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

Tzich sat on the mucky ground a few feet beside her, his arms on his knees and a haggard cough in his throat. He squinted up at the spark of sunlight that hovered in the space between buildings, a stark contrast to the reek that permeated everything. This was like sitting among the racks, imagining sky. He imagined Carly's difficulty a bit better.

"I thought I was here to teach you how to find your strength," he said idly, still peering at the blue above. "Turns out you're a pro at hulking it, turning yourself inside-out and through. Turns out I've got the harder job."

After awhile he looked at her, noted the blood and the look on her face. "You feel like shit because you threw it all at once. You're chucking handfuls of bullets at your opponent and your gun's in the holster. There's thought," he tapped his temple, "and precision. Each bullet has the power to kill, but used wrong you just make a mess. Is your diabetes-head following?"

He arched his back, rummaged in a pocket, pulled a stick of gum for himself and tossed her the pack. It was hard as a rock. "I told you not to touch the thing." He popped the gum in his mouth and crunched. "There's a sort of poison in those kind of demons that's either flesh-eating or soul-decaying, I can't remember which. It's probably halfway through your body by now." He leaned his head back and stared at the sky again, very glad he hadn't come in contact with the dog's dripping maggoty flesh.

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

Tzich hissed through his teeth and flung his arm out, but nothing happened. Carly had done something -- drained him or stunted him, he hoped temporarily. He snarled and lunged forward, ready to tear the beast off his student -- but Carly got to it first.

By the time he was near enough to grab Carly's shoulder, the dog was motionless. He stared at it with violent, confused black eyes, his fangs glinting. He pulled his hand away from Carly. "That dog is already full of holes, a dagger shouldn't make a difference." But it had, because Carly had willed it to. He rubbed his face, paced a few steps back and forth, kicked the dog but it only flopped in response.

Finally, he dropped to his knees and peered close at the dog's maggot-eaten face. He opened his mouth and sucked in a trickle of black that was much less opaque than the woman's demon had been. This was grainy, and it went down like fiberglass.

He gagged and coughed dryly, but he got to his feet and swallowed it down with a twitch in his mouth. He tipped his head and cracked his neck. "There's nothing left but fragments," he said in a wheeze, and cleared his throat. "There wasn't much left of that demon in the first place, but you pulverized it like a meat grinder." He wasn't even sure how. He gave her an uncertain look. "How do you feel?"

Just a Fairy Tale | Glaw & carsgovroom

The Marshal was stony and still. So Liam could understand Dorothea now. He couldn't say he was surprised -- but he couldn't have chosen a worse time. He understood perfectly well that he was faced with Will's demand for answers, Liam's disbelief and Dorothea's accusations -- and that there was little hope of his ever being trusted again. But he owed this to them.

"The Queen's original plan had been to kill the princess in the attack on the caravan," he said solemnly as soon as there was quiet. "It would have sparked an immediate war with Verinia, according to her plan. I suggested an alternative."

Dorothea barely heard him; she was staring teary-eyed at Liam, overwhelmed by the fact that he appeared to have heard her voice. "Liam," she said softly -- but the Marshal's excuses drew her attention away. Knowing that Liam was at her side, she stood proudly and spoke in her accustomed, dignified voice. "An alternative that included the slaughter of Richard, Coren and Merril. My guardsmen. Your subordinates. They were murdered in the name of your alternative."

The Marshal cast a doubtful glance at Will, certain he hadn't understood anything the cat had said. "If there had been any way I could have prevented the deaths of Dorothea's guard, I --"

"You could have warned us." Dorothea's voice wavered, but only slightly.

The Marshal set his jaw, grave and forbidding. "The Queen knows I've betrayed her, and she knows where you are. I fear she'll make an attempt against the king in our absence --"

"If you're telling the truth," Dorothea interrupted him again, seething. "It's still on your head."

---

Raquelle had been grinning at the idea of making the Marshal suffer -- but her smile fell immediately upon being told to send her servants home. "What?" She stared at the mirror, unsure she had heard right. "You want me to travel all the way to the hollow? Alone? Without my servants?" This was laughable! How could she possibly be expected to ride alone in the darkest hours of the morning, swatting her own flies and preparing her own food, without someone there to fan her and accept beatings when she was in a mood? She wouldn't survive!

She pursed her lips, but she huffed through her nose and narrowed her eyes. "Fine. I will have my servants pack my horse and I'll send them back without me. I'll ride alone. Through the dangerous, scary, muddy woods. With the mosquitoes. For you, Mother. For revenge." She could have sobbed, but she dared not in front of the Queen.

Just a Fairy Tale | Glaw & carsgovroom

Dorothea responded with a touch of her paw against Liam's cheek. Of course she could trust him to realize she was here -- all she'd had to do was allow him the chance. She didn't try to speak, knowing that if he heard a cat's meow his certainty might waver, but instead sat silently at his arm, pressed tightly against him.

When the Marshal appeared, however, she grew rigid. A low growl roiled deep in her throat and she hissed in his direction, her fur standing on end. None of this would be happening if it hadn't been for him and his lies. He had Sam wrapped around his finger, Dorothea was sure of it.

The Marshal was cool as stone. He watched Will for a few moments, calculating, before he replied. "You both are owed an explanation, and I will tell you what I know. Prince Liam's blindness is due only to Raquelle's sick-minded ideals. She worked alone for her own gain. The dwarves set the camp on fire because they believed the troop to be associated with the Witch of the Woods. This was logical only in that I was among your company. They know me as a servant of the Witch, so therefore our soldiers must be the Witch's men." He paused a moment to let this fact sink in before he continued.

"I've been working as an agent under the Witch, to spy on her --"

"There are only so many lies I can take, Marshal!" Dorothea spat articulately, her head raised high and her eyes sharp as daggers.

The Marshal watched her solemnly. "For the good of the kingdom I kept close to her and read her actions and motives. She plans to overthrow Tommen and take Eldonia for her own -- as well as Itelia and Verinia, through the instigation of war. She has done this by staging a kidnapping, framing the soldiers of Verinia for the deed, and hiding the princess in plain sight."

"You kidnapped me!" Dorothea said in a low, dangerous voice. "You killed your own men. You dragged me off my horse with your own hand, you tied my wrists, you threw me down at the Queen's feet and you watched."

The Marshal was only quiet, shielded in his mind against the oncoming storm. "The Witch you already know as Queen Narissa of Eldonia."

---

Raquelle was rummaging through the ruins of her belongings, dumping chests and sifting through clothes while her servants cowered behind the horses. She must have something here that would help her in this situation -- a memory potion, or a love tonic, or a charm that would get her through those doors without anyone noticing her presence. She was examining a disfigured rabbit's foot when her mother's voice called out from beneath a pile of charred cloth.

"Mother." Raquelle dusted the ash off the mirror and looked serious and bright-eyed into her mother's face. "Everyone has taken refuge inside a poor farmer's house. Shall I burn it down, Mother?"

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

Tzich was sitting on the pavement, still and watchful while the warm crackle of Carly's power dissipated from his veins. That had been a kick he wasn't expecting: a blow to the gut like he'd put a crack in the Hoover dam. Her claws glinted black.

It was clear where this was going. Tzich crawled slowly to his feet, just as the dumpster banged like a drum and the dog crumpled and skittered angrily among food wrappers and boxes. She could tear that thing to pieces -- and he could care less if she did, except that the farther she fell down that hole the harder it would be to drag her back. Once that dam broke, there would be nothing stopping her from ripping him apart -- and anything else that moved.

He hadn't realized before just why he had been chosen for this job. He knew what it was like deep down in that darkness, savage and bloody and mindless. He knew what it was to wake up and realize the nightmares were real.

"Carly." he snapped, his voice loud and firm. "Breathe." This was no longer a game, and he was no longer smiling. "This isn't a dogfight. You're a hunter, not a pit bull. You can feel the power now, it belongs to you, so use it. Control, Carly."

Her name would be important, from now on. As long as he could remind her of who she was, she would be fine. He hoped.

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

Tzich stuck his hands in his pockets and spun into the open space behind Carly, confidently safe while she was so efficiently attracting the dog's furious attention. He'd admired her reaction and her command of her limbs and balance, but her instinct could use work. The stench had him on edge; he resisted the urge to drive that beast into the pavement, just to hear it screech, to feel the shards of an old soul scatter. This one was hers, its blood for her teeth.

"Well," he shrugged, and he grinned, speaking through a hiss. "There are a few ways to go about gutting him." Tzich dropped to one knee behind Carly and took the back of her hand in his palm. "Let's try them all," he whispered in her ear.

The dog shot forward before he finished speaking. Tzich raised their hands together, and he drew on both their energies, pulled it dark and crackling from her stomach, and he took careful aim at the oncoming threat.

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

"Ha ha!" Tzich grinned and rubbed his palms together, leaning forward in anticipation of a gourmet meal. "Just breathe in that aroma. A perfect combination of waste and rot, seething around the crazy holey scrap of a renegade demon, more violent and dangerous than ten of that woman put together. One bite, one scrape --" He smiled sharply, in glee over the thought of blood and bone.

"Even you wouldn't want to get near those teeth." He clasped his wrist behind his back and leaned to where Carly could see the humor in his eyes. "So what do you do? Maybe throw boxes at it til it gives up. Maybe it knows commands. Heel! Sit! Stay! No? Got a gun? Didn't think so. He's got his eye on you now, and he's hungry and mad." He was enjoying the show.

Just a Fairy Tale | Glaw & carsgovroom

Dorothea was unphased. She was beyond girly emotion, now that the worst had reared its ugly head. There was much to be done, queens to conquer, sight and a human body to be restored, a kingdom to be rescued. Sam had taught her to believe.

She smoothly stepped out from under Liam's hand, and she pressed his palm down with a paw. She knew he couldn't see her, and he couldn't understand her with his ears, but she could rely on his touch.

She remembered a game they used to play as kids, when they wanted to communicate without the grown-ups knowing.

Little Dorothea sat in the middle of the parlor floor with Liam. Leaves still clung to her dress and her hair was a wreck, but she was grinning even after being scolded. "Next time we won't get caught, because we'll have a secret code." She held up one finger, showing it to Liam. "One means stay quiet. If I show you one finger, don't answer anybody's questions or we'll be in trouble, right? Same goes for me. One is silence. Two," she produced a second finger, "is run. Go hide in your room, or somewhere nobody will find you until the coast is clear. And three --"

Dorothea, struggling a bit with her paws, pushed Liam's thumb and little finger under his palm and held them there. Three fingers.

"Three means come find me."

She stood on Liam's hand and looked up at Will with composed determination. She would be understood.

---

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you," August said flatly, completely shut off by her accusations. He pointedly ignored her at the expense of what she might think of him, and he put all his focus on finding a place where the soldiers wouldn't bother her.

Finally, after some maneuvering through Liam's concerned men, he pushed open the door to a small room in the back, where there was a small bed among stacks of books. He laid Sam down here, pulled off her shoes wordlessly, and shoved a pillow under her head. His expression was still cold and closed -- he wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he'd have to do it soon. The queen was livid and likely to do something drastic.

When he'd pulled the blankets over her, he looked solemnly into her face. "I admit I need help. We're in this together -- you, and me, and the princess and Prince Liam. I'll alert them to the danger, and I'll do what it takes to keep everyone safe, and you will rest." He didn't give her a chance to respond before he backed out of the room, leaving the door cracked for light.

[Skybreaker] Royal Wings [Glaw]

"Snickety .... what?" Rulan's eyes were half-lidded, his voice dull. He suddenly lashed out and grabbed Cyrus' sword; he slashed it about in the air with one hand while the other was pressed against the prince's skull to hold him back. "You couldn't break the skin with this thing, let alone snick any snacks. It's a toothpick." After a few more swipes, he tossed the weapon, caught it by the blade and shoved the hilt into Cyrus' chest. "No self-respecting king would be caught dead -- or rather, he will be caught dead if he relies on a stick for protection." He folded the cloak down and tied it around his waist so he could have his arms free.

"Don't tell anyone else you took fencing lessons. It's embarrassing." He was searching the edges of the road, looking for any paths that might lead to a place where he could get some proper clothes and an actual weapon. "And there's always someone who hates you," he added offhandedly, distracted by thoughts of raw dripping meat and a blade to cut it with. "Whoever sent you to get this feather, for example. You never told me exactly why you're here. How much farther are we going to walk?"