ProfetessaOscura

He lifted his brow. If he had eyes or eyebrows, he might have been raising them. "But if you stayed in a safe location and went to a local school and hid from, say... evil queens. Perhaps." He was of course, not letting this go very easily.

"She's too young. Besides, having a pet is a big responsibility. It may take a while yet. And if you plan on endangering your life and continuing your adventures with your friends, perhaps it is best that she live a normal fox life."

"Careful not to get your scent too much on them. We don't want the mother moving the litter. She'll be fine." He found it funny how Janice immediately assumed everything was female, but he didn't question it. The sky started to drizzle. Everything looked greener, somehow more vibrant, with a little bit of rain. He swept off his odd half-cloak of tassels and shrouded Janice in it. "We should leave. The mother will be returning soon, and we should go back, too."

The fox's nose twitched, and the tiny creature's black eyes popped open. Its head swiveled, and it stared straight at Janice. The creature toddled a few steps toward her, then sank down onto its haunches. It released another enormous yawn, pointed ears trembling, fluff rippling along its tiny body, then closed its eyes, tucked into a tight little spring, tail swishing to curl around one side, then, unsatisfied, swishing the other way to curl around the next. After a moment... it lost its balance and toppled onto its back again, round belly jiggling as the tiny legs kicked at the air.

"Is it an orange one, then?" he asked. "There are a few colors foxes can be. Brown. Black. Red. Even blonde. I saw pictures once."

"Not from their mother. They're wild things, foxes. You can name them and watch them grow. I wouldn't want you to get bitten by a protective mother. They're in a good environment for foxes. Perhaps Brother Sparrow will let me sacrifice a few fish to feed the foxes. I am not sure what his principals are, regarding carnivorous animals."

"There are five altogether," he said. "Most of them are towards the back. That one is a little more adventurous." He smiled to himself, leaning back in the grass. It was soft wintergrass, spongy and delicate. "They have tiny, quick little heartbeats, even when they sleep."

Vespyr smiled, sitting on the edge of the slope. He didn't need to be near or even close to the hole to know exactly what she was looking at. "What happened?" he asked. Details would distract, but he knew he likely didn't need to do anything further to distract the child.

"Shh. Don't wake them." He stood and slowly, shakily, guided her down the grassy knoll a few more paces. Behind a twisted root, a hole delved straight into the side of the slope. It was dark, but about two feet back, a small foxlet rolled onto its back, stretching four scrawny legs over a fat, rotund belly. Its mouth opened in a gigantic yawn, and the tail folded over its body as it rolled back onto its side to snooze.

He smiled. Baby animals were the perfect distraction from bad dreams. "The mother is gone. Probably pestering Mr. Sparrow's animals. They're in a small den, on the other side of this tree, a few feet down. They're sleeping. One just yawned. If you peek inside, you can see them."

"Is there any gold-yellow? What about the fox kits?" he asked. "Are they traditional colors, have you found them yet?"

"I had eyes until I was about thirteen," he informed. "They were taken from me by the Queen."

"This place. It feels like it might be beautiful."

Vespyr stopped, then slowly returned, then lowered himself unsteadily to the ground beside the child. He hesitated, then put a gentle hand on her shoulder. It had been a long time since he'd been surprised by anything. He could feel the vibration in the air. He knew that there was a foxhole below the tree, where there was a litter of sweet tiny foxes, just beginning to toddle. He could sense the nest high above. In the distance, in a patch of soft, flexible ferns, he could sense a large collie, with a mane like a lion's, trotting along as a painter rushed through the trees, trying to protect their work from the drizzling rain, which was just beginning in the distance, the sun smattered with a splotchy, wispy smattering of clouds. He could sense them. The thick air. It was different. And he could see none of it. Not like she could. "Describe it to me. It will be... a diversion. From what you saw."

Vespyr ambled up the slight incline towards Janice on shaking legs. He was perfectly capable and strong... except he trembled and shook, and his body reacted erratically, head jerking from side to side, hands shooting up, as if to defend against a gentle breeze, startled. He was determined not to lash out and hit Janice in the face... again... and he had his hands balled up at his side. He meant to have a conversation with her, but then realized she was probably asleep, as she hadn't reacted or flinched at his approach. He crept quietly away, back toward the house. Maybe he could work with Sparrow... figure out something he could do for the man.

The days passed aimlessly. The man followed the Sparrow's orders, cutting wood almost mindlessly. His hands shook after a few days of the siphoning, but he did not complain when he had to stop splitting wood or carrying plates. Trembling shook him, and he eventually took to staying still on the couch, barely moving, eating, or drinking. He spasmed on occasion, and eventually removed the mask, baring the disfigured features, slick with sweat and fever. The nectar wasn't the problem. Early on, they'd acquired more from a dealer in a local city. It wasn't as pure as the Queen's fare, but cutting it with the drugged supply watered it down and kept the toxins spread out over a longer time. It turned a week's supply of nectar into three, but it wasn't as simple as that. After the first few days, Vespyr was practically immobile, sweating and murmuring with little actual being able to discerned. When approached, he seemed to recognize Sparrow and Janice as completely different individuals, flinching away from Sparrow as if expecting him to slice into his skin, to stab out his ears or cut out his tongue. He didn't scream. There was too much training and control for that. But... it was almost pitiful, seeing a monster cower like a child. Janice was a person called Rain, to the creature. If he had eyes, he would have wept every time she spoke to him. He repeated the words over and over again, a silent mantra, whimpering in a fevered existence. "I apologize for the inconvenience... I apologize for the inconvenience... I apologize for the inconvenience... Rain... I am so... so... I apologize for the inconvenience..." Sometime in the second week, he cocooned himself in a swirl of wind, suspended in the middle of the room, dead to the world, except for when offered the next dose. In week three, the seizures started. Sparrow cut the supply even further, watering down the meager remnants. It truly did seem like he was correct, like it would be a dwindling, painful death. Remission from the drugs would kill him. Then there was the breakthrough. One of the tests came back conclusive, successfully identifying two of the more powerful addictive substances in the cocktail. Obtaining them... had been a bit more difficult. Vespyr was recovering, slowly. He was quiet, sullen, and ashamed. His memory of the recession was faulty, but he knew he must have acted foolishly. He repeated that apologetic mantra almost as much as when he'd been delusional, but still ate as much as a small elephant, and slept like a bear. It was... odd. Shadowing the girl as she waited around for friends who may or may not be able to even find her, all on the hopes of a letter. She was foolish, in her own right. But... he was beginning to find it endearing, not annoying. Trust. It was something he'd had, once. It was an emotion knotted deeply with guilt, but... it was something he could admire, as a trait.

He leaned back into the couch. "It will be fine. I appreciate your help. I would repay it if you would allow me. Do you have an enemy I can kill, perhaps?"

"Then what do humans eat, if not fish?" he frowned from behind the mask. It would be disturbing to return to the slop that he'd been fed as a child, before being assigned to his post. He might have shuddered in disgust if not for his self control. "What if eating fish helps me enjoy life as much as I am able?" Oh. That was... contrary. No. Rude. Yes, that was the word. "I apologize."

"Oh," Vespyr said, hesitantly embracing the fish. Goodness, he'd wished that the man had let him know that before he'd offered to go fishing (like 15 pages back lol). He walked out into the drizzling rain and dumped the floundering fish into the ocean. They'd live to flop another day. He walked back into the room again, lowering his mask, remembering the eerie scars and disgusting features. It was only polite. "What would you have me do, to repay you for your assistance?"

Vespyr felt... empty. It was the usual emotion, to be sure. He retrieved several flopping fish, each as large as his forearm, then selected three from the bunch. The fortunate survivors were released. The less fortunate, he carried into the house. They were still flopping and panicking, drowning on air, hugged to his chest as he stepped into the room. It was... an odd sight, to say the least. "You can cook?" he asked the Sparrow simply.

“You have always been most generous, Majesty,” Vespyr said appreciatively. The more chaotic... the more energy and vibration, the better suited Vespyr was for survival, for combat. “While I yet live, I will dance in battle at your whims. May it provide entertaining memories for those who are able to walk away with their lives.”

She harumphed lightly, smiling to herself, then left him alone. "You can take him back to his cell," she told the guard, then sashayed professionally in clacking heels down the hallway.

She did not offer a hand forward, instead just fluffing her hair and giving a slight wink. "Let's see if we can help you evade death row, okay, hun?"

She smiled, almost serpentine herself. "Primrose. Primrose Delacroix." She offered a hand forward.