the night had ridden their backs harshly, a desperation that had clung to their very breath as they ran, seeking out abandon with the fervor of the dying. muscles had been pulled, strained under sweaty, mud-encrusted skin, lungs contracting, aching from constant constriction. throats were raw from breathing even as the sweat pooled in the creases of skin, a watery slime in the small of Dierdre's back. she stopped her harsh pace, muscles in her calves quivering in growing pain, half crouched among the dying shadows as she looked over her shoulder. the motion was quick, as wicked and severe as the blade that rested in the fisted palm of her hand. she caught a glimpse of rolling fur as Blaine drew up beside her, Dierdre's gaze whipping forward, wariness etching the fine lines of her face.

with his mouth agape, fangs bared nonthreatening as he sought breath, his lungs expanded wildly within his ribcage. a rippled shadow of curved ribs danced with every breath, almost an illusion. the black jaguar, heavily winded treasured the small respite as Dris' gaze cut through the lightening sky. dark velvet turned to grey dust, the palest blue whispered among the trees with the hope of golden light still hidden behind horizon. the large predator was a creature of night, the light of day did not settle well with him, especially in this world where humanity must remain in ignorance. that they had hunted until dawn did not sit well with him, agitation that added to the stress lines that marked Dris' eyes.

the corners of her mistrustful eyes sprouted the shadow of wrinkles, crows feet seeming to linger as she squinted into the hinting blush of the sun's arrival. "we must hurry." the restlessness that had held them in thrall through out the night did not let go of its grasp as she rose, a fluid movement that pushed her forward, kept her low and inconspicuous as one can be darting through the fading shadows. Blaine did not need to be told, though often her voice comforted him; he ran beside her. despite her size and shape, the pace was punishing, straining muscles that had endured much in the late hours.

they'd never make it, her limbs exhausted, filled with growing lethargy pushed onward despite the foreboding that circled her heart. they were not to make it. Blaine was distressed, the displeasure heightening Dierdre's sense of alarm. '

and the sun rose. the birds had long since sung their song to the hunters' ears, filling their minds with the dreary knowledge of their perpetual failure. the palest blue painted the sky, yellows washing away the last of the darkness, casting their shadow long and wavering. heart beating entirely too fast, Dris, with one hand flat upon the ground frantically looked for a place to hide, a niche to crawl into; to wrap Blaine's warmth around her cold body.

as if in answer, the jaguar purred, a thick sound that burred out of the muscled cords of his neck. glancing up and over to his gaze she took in the camp that lay clustered about the broken wagon, its own shadow overwhelming their own. "i think ... we must." Dris sighed then, a deep sound that seemed to shake her very soul. black furred ears curved up at the sound, though he dared not glance her way. held on the precipice of choice he awaited her answer. he knew, as well as she, that they could not traverse the streets in the day.

with quick efficiency the pair loped over toward the wagon, hiding among its shadows as they gauged the territory they would invade for pure safety's sake. "you smell that?" Dierdre nearly purred herself at the luscious scent of animals tied down upon the ground. what could it be? she wondered, though she did not voice her doubt. they had need of a niche, how they would find one, was currently beyond her as exhaustion rolled through tired bones. "oh, Blaine," she murmured, voice as tired as her body.

the wind rustled against her face, a soft caress that seemed to imbue a sense of confidence in the desperate young woman. despite it all, she tilted her face back, exposing the gentle slopes of cheekbones and high ridge of brow to the current's touch. it slipped through her hair, a subtle play as if fingers toyed with its ends. calm, momentary, fleeting felt as if it slid through her veins, a cooling ease that erased the heat of desperation, the frazzle nerves which had held her poised for flight.

as the wind drifted away the calm slowly died, Dierdre's angst rising thick from her pores as her gaze speared through the growing light that seemed to be stalking their very path. exhaustion was not far off, the pleasant lethargy of running herself to the ground had, at this juncture, tightened muscles that protested the constant maneuvering, ducking, weaving through the dying shadows. but they couldn't be caught in the daylight. her gaze slid sideways, pain wretched in her eyes as she watched the sun battle the night away, wished for once that it would never come. she shivered, though cold was not external, but internal frostbite creeping its way through her soul. she worried, as she had a right to.

knees straining against the weight she had imposed on her joint, Dierdre felt the restlessness filling the crevices of fingers, of limbs. "we have to move," she whispered, though it hardly held any weight, merely a breath that eased from her lungs as she sought Blaine's gaze. they caught, and held and the world seemed to right itself from its crooked axis. the black jaguar purred, a rough sound vibrating deep in the strong cords of his throat as he shifted his weight and pushed the flat of his skull against her shoulder. an affectiona
te gesture, chastising her worry. she shivered, as if in response to the throbbing burr that thrummed against her skin. so close to his flesh, to him, it was as if time held itself above them, paused for their reunion. her soul was his, and his her own - brushing against the cages, seeking each other out, that simple touch, filled with such tenderness had her breath wavering in the morning air. you are right, you are always right, she thought, the heaviness of his emotions crawling over her skin.

that was, until the wind changed directions; then the hidden stench of death woven in the livestock pinned down to the ground slapped the pair in the face. though not truly of the breed, Dierdre's spine stiffened as the surprise sluiced away. the gentleness in Blaine disappeared - quick temper, protectiveness wrinkling the very flesh of his shoulders, strength that had long since left returning to his limbs as he rose, muscles taut. anger radiated, pushed by the scent he had missed, the leniency with which his guard had dropped. irritation rippled the curves of his body, had his upper lip curling in an angry sneer, rounded ears flattened.

caught up in the strength of his conviction, Dierdre's anger was not her own but that of the giant cat, her mind overwhelmed by his sheer ferocity that rolled over her, again and again until her hand clenched around the hilt of her dagger. its sharpened point had already tasted of blood tonight, its blunted silver sheen dulled by the dark crust of crimson that had splattered its wicked edge. she had cleaned it, as best she could in her dalliance in the outer reaches of London. a growl crawled up her own throat, an eerie echo of the cat at her side, one palm flat against the upturned earth, fingers reaching, gripping the loose dirt as the other, armed hand rose parallel to eyes, held with a quiet ease of one used to violence, to the way the blade would cut into flesh. whatever strain had harried her joints eased with the pumping adrenaline that surged through tired muscle. tricked into a sense of strength, her gaze hardened searching for the scent, or rather, for the source of Blaine's wrath.

the cat twitched, its tail lashing as he held himself low to the ground, piercing eyes staring fever bright. Dris' spikes of fear, almost hidden beneath the swirling chaos of emotions, angered him further. still silent, Blaine eased himself forward, stalking toward the scent of sheep, and other. it irritated him that yet another scent went unknown - yet another mystery to leave him in the dark. his muscles bunched, contours breaking out alone the sweaty black pelt.

simultaneously the man - boyish in appearance - revealed himself as Blaine's muscles unwound. alarm filled her to the core, horror at what Blaine was going to do, to this innocent who had simply stumbled across their presence. no time to think - the boy crumpled, a crack she barely heard (but which Blaine took careful advantage of) followed by a cut off whimper as Blaine let fly his pounce. "Blaine!" she shouted, reacting to the twist in her gut, the absolute terror that raced through her at the very thought of that poor human ravaged, undeserved by her cat counterpart.

she flew a mere moment after Blaine, her toes curling and pushing herself forward, out from where she had been hiding; dagger dropped to the ground with a thud she didn't even hear, nor notice as both hands reached for the giant cat. grappled around his neck - they both crumpled, surprise flaring along her spine as the black jaguar simmered, anger close at its heels. he would never turn on her, could not even had he been so inclined. to him, it was yet another show of favor toward another creature. another choice she had made. resentment flickered in his heart before dying underneath the touch of her arms over his fur.

even now, in the most impossible of circumstances, it felt as it time warped, stopped, held its breath just for them. a momentary respite before Dierdre with no grace, clambered off of the sprawling cat and over the hedge, peering down at the crumpled boy. Blaine had not harmed him, had been unable to and yet worry creased the temporary wrinkles along the sides of her eyes. the scents that rolled off of her skin were strong, intense filled with fading horror, worry, desperation. she was frazzled; there was a wide cast to her eyes, pupils expanded even in the growing light. she touched him unthinking, a light feather touch as the pads of her fingers gingerly pressed against his shoulder, "are you alright?" her voice quavered slightly. worry for what he had seen - for Blaine who stalked along the edges of the brush, unwilling to get closer to the human who stank.

"what happened to you?" her eyes darted down to what he was clutching, overlooking his state of undress. too worried to even notice it. the light was coming, sending shafts of its golden rays through even the dreary morning camp. Blaine wanted to leave. now. the hurry that rushed up her spine made her dizzy. "we can't just leave him like this, Blaine; where is your honor?" she hissed, looking over her shoulder from her crouched position.

existence was exquisite - it warped, changed, altering facets so that every moment of life was a brilliant splash. that one emotion defined a person, a creature, a sentient being, if only in fading memory. it was what had been taught through millenia: each mask created a design unique to its soul, its core. now, tight, tense movements defined him, held him in a stasis of negative energy. it drew its power from his very self, pores flared open, seeping into the world drops of poison. anger, irritation, depression, angst. fall-back emotions, playing across his silken body, a dance in the glistening contours of muscle and bone.

for that moment, and more to come he was consumed by this, grasping for stability and failing. Blaine, adrift in the chaos of his mind could barely see the path he walked without wanting to lash out. indeed, his tail did fine without him, whipping about like a venomous snake. muscles bulged in his shoulders, rigid lines coiling about the joints as if some creature writhed beneath his skin. as if the malignant emotion craved to be set free. and he did not know how to deal with it. tormented by so many impulses - run! run from the light! do not be found here, protect her, keep her from sight. sacrifice, attack. would she leave him? could she leave him? why kindness? where's his honor? -- his mind stilled. honor. pride.

he was her, he saw through the film that she viewed the world; he knew her faults, her hangups and her generosity. it was his own, morphed somehow to fit the wildness in him. and yet ... she was part of that too. there was ferocity in the subtle play of beauty that danced in the fire within his eyes - he would not have been birthed in this form had it not been her soul, her personality, the energy which drove her to protect her dying family, to seek vengeance on those who dared to harm that which she had sought to protect. confusion, so strong moved him down, down into the corners of his mind, away from the world, away from the light of the morning which sought to expose them to the world. away from the creature he didn't understand, from the rejection of her favor. and yet ... and yet.

his paws were heavy on the ground, a constant scritch as his claws, extended dug into the earth and tore out its surface. no movement but for the constant pacing, one paw in front of the other, again, and again. the scent of the reeking man did not incur his wrath, the touch he felt her give no longer raised resentment. nothing but movement, patient, predatory, meditative. he was existence: he was exquisite.

the worry that rode his back, curling around his spine no longer harried him. her connection to him, strong, thrumming along the invisible cord which bound them together - as if the soul which had been torn asunder was constantly reaching toward its other half. too far away and they would die. they would fade from existence and the fog would roll in to swallow their essence.

"Blaine?" a pause, then "Blaine."

the connection vibrated, a thrumming pleasure that shivered down his spine and curled about his tail. a touch, so tender and he rose from the depths of his subconscious, paused in his pacing and turned toward that touch. a golden touch that soothed his worries, his heartache, his doubts. even the simplest touch to reassert confidence: and the earthly emotions returned to him.

Dierdre.

he paused, felt her want, her desire - never hesitated. he did not trust this human - this creature he reasserted, inhaling his heavy musk. man, fur and death lingered on his skin, with months of grime blocking pores. his emotions seemed to be muted, as if hesitation not only held his tongue, but his own want. the black jaguar sneered and gazed at the half-curled ... thing on the ground. the fire had not died in his eyes, that beautiful ferocity challenging, daring this abnormality to try to take his place. barely a breath, nothing but silent challenge that shimmered up Dierdre's spine.

her eyes narrowed, gazing at the black cat that stood almost daintily over the earth, his disgust almost palpable in the air. this was the second time she had to question his pride as a Celt - she shook her head and slid her fingers through his fur in an affectionate gesture, the movement itself, the feeling of vibrant fur living beneath the pads of her fingers bringing a flush of warmth to her face, pleasure lightening her dark eyes.

"he's as safe as he's willing to be, I'm afraid." humor colored her tone, turning the almost husky cast to her voice into something playful. it helped of course that his ... functionality diffused the threat he had initially posed. still, it was impossible to move around in the day without exposing themselves. her gaze lingered on the boy - nearly grown adult - she corrected herself, judging by the cast to his shoulders and torso. he was a little lanky, she noted, but then she wasn't much better. voluptuous would never be a term applied to herself. Dris had to smile at that, a sudden parting of her lips in self-deprecation.

still, she had to get out of here. he seemed alright ... well. she hesitated, having opened her mouth to speak and then closed again, side-glancing at the black Jaguar who seemed to have decided to remain silent. needless, she felt cut off from her cat counterpart without his constant emotions playing along the tightness in her back, in the plains of her shoulders and neck. almost, empty. inquiry would come later.

however, curiosity pulled at her, keeping her from simply rising and disappearing. we couldn't disappear now, even had we wanted, she thought, almost mournfully, as she tilted her head toward the sun which had risen a finger over the horizon. indecision caught at her, too obvious for her comfort.

Blaine shifted his weight, his own gaze seeming to slide toward the horizon at the same moment her eyes turned. the very tip of his tail curling over itself, the big cat's sudden wonder tightened Dierdre's back when he saw their failure. too far from their niche to get there safely.

"where are you staying?" her voice brought Blaine's sudden attention toward the adolescent, watching her gaze linger ponderously on his 'affliction'. curiosity piqued, the Jaguar's rounded ears rose up over his head, watched her.

there was hope in her eyes, nothing so dramatic as a glint, or sparkle but subtle; and yet, a blatant quality lit the darkness of pupil on fire. emotion warred within, windows to the soul that flickered vibrantly beneath her skin. even bedraggled, sweaty, layered in the earth's bounty, her eyes still seemed to dance - brightened with that damnable emotion. hope, softening the curves of her almond shaped eyes, chartreuse seeming to overshadow even the small paw-print tattoo that kissed the flesh beneath her right eye.

gaze lingering on his injury, her words had been spoken rashly, the last stream of desperation that was slowly slipping away from her. in the face of her failure was acceptance, taking its place. and yet - she could not simply let him go, though he did not seem the type who wished to watch her burn. Dierdre shivered, a subtle twitch of fear that knifed through her heart, goosebumps rising along the flesh of her arms, the little hairs at the back of her neck. attuned to it, Blaine's fur rankled, bunching up along his shoulders in a display of displeasure at her change in demeanor.

he watched curiously, as she seemed almost to reach out to the man before her fingers curled into their palms - Blaine's head tilted, the whiskers along his short muzzle shivering. Dierdre paused, uncertain and despising herself for it. his injury appeared serious, his reaction to it, odd. pain must be constantly in his life, she thought, mournfully. and just as simply those eyes filled with her thoughts, flashes of images, concepts seeming to rise from the darkened rings of black. in the growing light the yellow rings seemed to mesh with the green turning her gaze to gold. so easy to read, this young woman had never had the ability to dissemble, her eyes, and face, even the slightest nuances of body all cried out with her every emotion, with her every thought - good or ill. she did not have it in her to lie, especially with the silence of her existence.

it was a constant balancing act, shifting from anger to sorrow, to contentment, to surprise and spiraling back to the beginning. she had no control, though it had ceased to bother her - instead she focused on the source of her worry, blinking her chartreuse eyes - a slow blink of astonishment as he seemed to double over. quickly she reach forward to steady him (the sudden touch had Blaine's tail lashing, anger starting to simmer). darting from his face to his seemingly injured hip, Dierdre was at a loss. she was not a healer, she did not know what she was doing, and this doubt ate at her - the helplessness seeming to magnify the futility of her situation. if they were found, they would be burned for witches.

"are you okay?" she asked as he coughed, concern softening her voice, which then turned to soft regret, a blanket of disappointment seeming to dip her shoulders down a hairbreadth. she had hoped ... biting the inside of her cheek in chastisement, Dierdre sat back on her heels.

then, much to her horror, he stood. it wasn't easy, and it didn't appear to be a healthy thing to do, but she could not keep the admiration from bubbling up to the surface. she knew suffering, knew injuries and knew, most importantly the effort to remain standing when under strain. as she watched his struggle, his name slipped into the archives of her mind's filing system, Estafilade, the foreign name given beauty by his own pronunciation. had she tried it, she was certain her tongue would stumble over several vowels, no matter that that Gaelic language had been mastered within four years. ruefully she remembered those years, "'An Oglaech," she murmured. the familiar sounds of his birth language rolling off of Dierdre's tongue caught Blaine's attention, who upon hearing, and catching her little smile, merely snorted, ears flattened down in irritation. Dierdre's smile merely widened.

little flourish was needed for the young woman as she murmured softly, standing with a certain amount of grace, "Dierdre dubh Driscol mac Dana," her voice, naturally gifted with the slightest husk, burred over the rolling r's and, oddly enough, d's. "of course, Dierdre is used often enough," and though her smile had lessened, her eyes seemed to warm as she looked over toward the black Jaguar who had ceased its pacing, staring as if frozen at Dris. "and this, is Blaine my gíomanach, hunter of my heart," her gaze lingered on the cat, affection that had grown to such an intense bond. the large Jaguar purred, a throaty sound as his flank slid along her thigh, her fingers running through the very tips of his fur, thinking, Aitníonn an fhuil a chéile.

"as for destination - " her voice hitched slightly, eyeing the light. "we cannot be seen walking together under the sun." and in the sudden fear that gripped her heart, her fingers clung to Blaine's fur. watching him, Dris' gaze lifted from the half stance Est had taken, "should you be standing on that?" she asked, almost hovering near him. useless, as always. the thought shamed her.

the goddess smiled down on her, even in her wretched state. oh dear Brighid, Exalted One, Goddess who rules my heart and soul in the fiery domes of your temple. she though, the words holding the reverence and yearning of a long-coming prayer. the words seemed to soak her tongue, wet her spiritual appetite: how long had it been since she had dared speak that name? sorrow was her ill-luck name, one who rages - she might have cried had she been able to. broken-hearted: words rolled through her mind, powerful waves that swirled around her skull as if washing the inside of her skull, reverberating, repetitive. a masked pain, but the tightening around the corners of her eyes, the sudden hesitancy in her smile. foul woman, of the sorrows, temptress who falls in love. fears and doubts which slept in the darkest depths of her mind, awoke and smiled viciously at her. shuddering images of those high flames in Kildare - standing before burning perdition with the Goddess standing beside her - her benevolent smile and empty eyes, visage etched in kindness, arms outstretched. this can never be found out.

sunlight was dangerous; as if in mockery to her childish fear, the sun's glorious light spilled through the encampment of this dusty city. the drudgery and stillness that was prevalent in the shadows seemed to fade in oncoming morning. if only for a moment. this city was trash - Dierdre could feel nothing but resentment for having to remain here. and yet - she looked sidelong at Blaine. she could live wild. the thought felt forbidden, as if such happiness, such base needs were impossible to even conjure. but it remained.

would she mourn human comfort? human contact? indecision, as painful as it had been earlier warred within her conscious mind. she struggled with thoughts half-formed, concepts that slipped into the darkness of doubt right as her figurative hand reached for them. sometimes, she despaired of her existence. be strong, she admonished, ashamed of herself. she was still young, her spiritual strength should not be flagging so early. and yet.

tilting her face up, she realized she had not tasted of sunlight in 8 months, long hard nights of struggling to live in a city that railed against her very nature. what should we do? she kept thinking, wishing Blaine could answer her in words. but Blaine was a creature born of the forests, of the thick jungles - he did not think in thoughts, he delved and survived through emotions. it was how he communicated, how he strove to live, and she could do nothing but find ease in sharing that gift with him. sorrowfully she wondered if the loneliness would ever go away. dangerous ground, as dangerous as the daylight which showered over them, turned her copper bronze hair into fiery highlights bundled up over one shoulder.

when she looked at Est, her gaze was so complex, encompassing thoughts of damnation, of loneliness and yet, hope lived there, the smallest little flame dancing between the shades of her eyes. Dris had not even heard most of his comments, having withdrawn deep into herself. his attempt at her name, unnoticed but for the slightest twitch of her lip. so awkward and ungainly she thought, looking up at him, breaking out into a surprised smile. he was charming in his own way: he wore honesty as she wore sorrow, and it lightened her heart of some of its burden.

she shook her head in exasperated humor, watching him hop to face her - his noble suggestion seemed to be thwarted by this worrisome injury he had somehow managed to acquire. his voice, hesitant sifted through her thoughts, I…I shouldn’t have been standing…That was stupid. it caught her half-smiling again, a thing that warmed the strange cast to her eyes. Blaine's eyes, identical but for the emotion looked away, disgusted, as his tail swished, a dismissive flick as he turned, gazed at the camp.

Dris didn't spare the black Jaguar a glance, knowing his displeasure and unable to appease him without abandoning Est. instead she took the offered hand, despite its mild change of mind - her hand slid into his, her palms smooth but for the pads of knuckles which held the slightest roughness of growing callouses: the effects of using her blades. she looked almost curiously at him, ironically just noticing his lack of clothing. she stifled a laugh, biting her lower lip in an attempt to keep her face straight, but utter mischief softened the curves of her cheekbones. "I'd like to see you try to move five feet without falling," she admonished. working under strain of injury she understood, being stupid with it, something she didn't quite fathom. "your generous offer would hold more weight if you could, though we would still have no where to go." her worry rose, dimming the passing pleasure of humor, drained her eyes of warmth, the yellows, greens and circles of black in her eyes, which had blurred in her pleasure, drained, became stark rings, almost hollow. and she knew, that she could never answer his question of why.

it had been a miracle of sorts that he had not reacted badly. lucky for him, for she would have sore regretted having to resort to his death to silence his words. she could not ignore the warning from her goddess. this can never be found out.

eyeing Estafilade, the man with the extraordinary name, she mused, and realized she wouldn't put it past this stranger to try to do just that: walk without falling. impulsively and later she would realize, stupidly, she said, "let me help you." and she moved to take some of his weight off of the bad hip, wondering how such a thing could be fixed without medical help. wondered too, how she was going to go anywhere in the city in the midst of the daylight hours.

the black Jaguar sneered.

to touch, and to be touched in return: it held all of the appeal of a lifetime of comfort and laughter. a reminder of innocence in the passing of hands, in the brush of shoulders, arms holding each other tight, of warm fur smelling of sunshine to cradle against one's face. childhood comforts in the protective arms of mother and fathers, a clan of blood-kin fierce in their protection. possessiveness would come later, as would the touch of a lover awaken a fire in her blood. a lifetime consisting of touch, souls glimpsed in the fluttering of one's heart, the quickening of one's blood. warmth staving off the night, and the nightmares, darkness fought off by the sheer light of joy that such embraces can hold.

even now, the slightest play of fur against her fingertips, of her own furry muzzle buried against the warmth of Blaine's pelt drew a shiver of contentment down her spine. more than numbers, it is the confidence of knowledge, that the breathing that rumbled beneath one's ear would protect you, that you would protect them. safety, in touch. it was so natural, to reach out, starved of touch by human hands. unthinking even, of the affect she might have had.

passing of pads against his shoulder, the half-hearted attempt to reach for him, the hand sliding along his, and her unasked for assistance: all of it subconscious, a Freudian slip of the starved, lonely child who had grown into a lonely woman. 8 months in a city without touch, a year since the death of her clan. deprived of comfort, was it any wonder that she reacted stupidly, that she had unconsciously strove for even the most innocent of connections to the world she had struggled to thrive in? not comfort this, but mere reality. Est was real, it was all that had mattered.

his rejection did not rankle, nor did it birth ill emotions, merely enhanced the very surreal shadow that had lain over her eyes. what was she doing? she had to be moving, focusing on safety, on keeping Blaine and herself alive, not coddling a lone cripple. what would happen when the Gypsies woke to find her there: they'd take Blaine from her, and she would die. she was wrong to linger, to simply while away the precious minutes of night that had passed her by. the sun was in the sky, its golden orb mocking her with its resilient rise. mustard cream, an eye that bore down into her own eyes, and winning. she could no more stare down the sun than to rewind and choose again.

I'm so sorry about this ...

so plain, so honest; she softened to his humility, his wretchedness that even now rested lightly against hers as if touch was disgusting, revolting. and that's what she was, wasn't she? nothing but an animal. it stung her, though it had hardly been Est's intent. nothing but a beast, though she walked upon two feet - thoughtless, heartless, not a warrior but a killer. this can never be found out. was that the Goddess' meaning? was she some abnormality? Dierdre would not meet Est's gaze, kept her eyes low and away. she did not know this man, nor his intent - why was she dawdling? even now, her feet were planted near his, unmoving as she fixated upon familiarity: searched almost frantically for Blaine's gaze, caught and held there.

there was more than simple comfort in touching. there was acceptance.

she grieved its loss, and more so its reinstatement to one who did not understand her starvation, who misconstrued her intent. she should be caged. a beast, indeed. mustered, instead, an unsteady smile directed it toward Est, though her gaze wavered and flagged, "its no bother, really." Dierdre nodded toward the awakening camp of gypsies, their numbers small at the start of the early morning. birds had woken the youngest, their dreary existence defined by their chores as they proceeded to feed animals, groom their fur and wake the older generation for the cooking as their dexterous little fingers stole chicken eggs from reproachful hens and piglets from protective sows. "best get you away from here before they burn you with me." though she knew that before the flames would ever lick her bare toes, she would be long dead.

hesitation clear in her demeanor, Dierdre's pause remained short-lived, if blatant. her arm did not so much tighten around him as shift down to catch his weight were his muscles to cramp or his balance to crumple over unsteady ground. "they're only as accepting as greed allows - one glimpse of fur and Blaine will be tied down like a cow, and I burned for my reaction." she shivered, fear sliding up her spine, cold icy fingers wrapped around nerve endings.

it was on the tip of her tongue to ask Blaine to keep watch, if only for Est's sake, but dismissed the idea as it held a certain disregard for the Jaguar's dignity. her want was his, and his ears perked up at the silent query, eyes askance before duty overwhelmed questions. without so much as a break in stride, the large black cat drew closer, circled tightly around them in an odd display of possession before crouching among the shadow cast by the abandoned wagon, watchful, almost dismissing Dierdre and her cripple-friend. almost. Blaine was not pleased, his shoulders tense, his ears flat against his skull. he knew her grief as if it were his own - and in some aspects, it was. and yet, did it not occur to her how tormented he was to be unable to appease her in that one act alone? in touching his own hand to hers, but held caged in fur and flesh. he had no hands, had nothing to hug her, or hold her but his strength. it was the only comfort he could offer and it tore at him as he had watched Est's display. dismissal curled his upper lip, baring a thick cylindrical incisor, unsheathed as his eyes sharpened on the movement of humans, his nose keen, sifting through the air.

"do you have a preferred direction?" he heard her ask, voice clear of the emotions he knew simmered beneath her surface. "we wish to remain unseen - i just hope you know the territory better than we do: we've traveled through it, but it was a non-stop journey and wrapped in shadows. we had not intended on staying." though worry did not color her tone, Blaine felt the sharpness spike through his spine. how wonderful.

it was purely instinctual, or so she repeated in her mind - and focused instead on the ground stretching out in front of them, instead of her harrowing thoughts. Dierdre wanted to withdraw, to physically remove her arms from where they supported Est, distance herself so the confusion would settle, organize ... become logical. that his scent crawled up her nose and curled there, did nothing to ease the tension that was rising inside of her - it was just another thing to harass her already frazzled mind and it went unappreciated. Dierdre kept her gaze away from his, looking fixedly on the ground, pupils wider than the situation called for.

she didn't know what to do, and helplessness was not an emotion she was accustomed to feeling, to controlling. moving enhanced the emotion - she was prey, a hunter turned hunted by the very sun. she could not wrap her mind around it, nor that her salvation was a half-cripple who did not even want to be close to her. with irritation, she felt the unnatural gait which they had adopted waver out into a half hobbled walk where she was forced to stand awkwardly, one arm tensed around Estafilade's back. the other, well, it remained half aloft, unsure of its place. unwilling to show weakness, she refrained from touching him more than necessary. he was straightening himself, trying to take more weight, with each step, though there was no one but herself and possibly, Blaine, to watch the bravado. what was he doing, straining the muscles more than he should?

reservation held her tongue, as well as her gaze from voicing her reproach - instead let him talk and listened, seeming to ignore the irregular adjustments of his body. she knew that the city was built over an underground nesting ground, a network of tunnels and abandoned subway lines that no one had dared explore. however, she had never explored its nether region, keeping out of the steely bowels. she could not stand to be enclosed, felt her heart constrict even at the thought of going down below the ground. how many miles ran underneath - more importantly why was he not wary? suspicion met his suggestion, a heavy silence that settled down around Dierdre that she felt no need to fill.

until that was, he disengaged from her and sat upon the ground in a disgruntled heap. he grimaced, and she watched as it tightened the corners of his eyes. watched silently as he clutched at his thigh before turning her vivid gaze to Blaine. the cat had watched the slow, almost weary trudge with mild agitation - the pace had been entirely too leisurely for one who wanted to disappear quickly out of sight. still, caught in the gaze of his Familiar, the black Jaguar lurched forward from his agitated pacing. padding toward her and rubbed his flank against her calves, short muzzle tilting up and following her gaze as she crouched. muscles rippled beneath her thigh and calves, a tightening of strength as her fingers slid through the large cat's fur, thumb rubbing against his left ear, slightly torn from one of their many chances with death.

"should we risk it?" she asked him, voice soft, almost hesitant. she did not like the idea of climbing down into a sewage system, nor did she particularly like being enclosed underground. "no one would see us," she added, though her voice still held that quavering lilt to it, almost a question. Blaine did not like it either, clear in the whirling of his tail as he tilted his chin up to her dexterous fingers, pleasure sliding down his spine at her quick work at the matted fur.

crouched down, she was eye level to the giant cat and caught in the play of goosebumps that rose up her arms at even the gentlest strokes of her fingers against his fur. emotion stroked the back of her neck, a gentle touch of affection before brittle warning flashed down her spine. a memory rose, quick and decisive - the stench of dogs, of something acutely inhuman and wolfish, found three to four months ago when the pair had first encountered one of the many underground entrances. the scent alone had warned them off, wild dogs or something unnatural festered in the darkness of the underground, and regardless they had felt safer ignoring it. invited by a human no less, into a place that he had - from the very casualness of his suggestion - explored, perhaps even lived was daunting.

something was wrong. Dierdre sighed, tilted her head down so that her forehead rested against the flatness of the black Jaguar's skull, his ears flicked down against his pelt. the purr that rumbled through his throat was reassuring. there was no other way. worst comes to worst, they would run. surely two cats could outrun a mere human, and a few measly dogs, right? she laughed at Blaine's confidence and shook her head against his fur, unwilling to let go of its comfort.

but keenly aware of their audience, Dris lifted her gaze, looked to Est and shrugged, "call me Drey, or Dris if you'd prefer; it seems we go down into the underground." her tone held the wistfulness of one who knew they were choosing wrong, and yet found no other solution but the one that lay in front of her.