#kc_necropolis

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The tap comes at her door not long after the text; he's been out roaming restlessly, still holding the hat rolled in his hands*

She opens the door - her hair is loosely braided, still damp, and her feathers are rumpled. She wears a tank top and knee-length joggers - despite the casualness of her clothing, she still looks.. well. Sidhe.

Her apartment, small as ever is... cluttered? Bed a tangle of blankets, clothing in a heap. The mural by her window is still mostly a sketch

He looks much the same; khaki kilt, Marley shirt, rasta band. Agitated. Holding a rolled up straw hat that is kneaded out of shape between his hands*

She holds the door, allowing him entry. Her sword is in the middle of the floor, scabbard on the futon, dirty rags scattered about.

He gives the sword a look, clattering in*

"Sorry about... let me." She shoves bedclothes to the side, clearing space on the futon. She herself settles on the floor, picking up a rag to go back to meticulously cleaning the black blood from her blade.

He's....leaner than she remembered, and much more deeply tanned, his dreads bleached lighter blonde. He's lost some of the softness of form. Also, he's blown his coat; his shaggy blonde fur is thinner, sleeker*

"It's cool, chica. Still looks better than mine used to." He is staring at the blood, a little queasily*

And he clacks over, to take a seat on the edge of the futon, gingerly. Still kneading the hat in his hands*

"Dude. He Wyrded."

"I've just been busy, you know?" Cleaning. Something simple and repetitive to focus on.

"Yeah. Me, too. Leave at dawn, and like....home after dark."

"Thallain don't care about hiding."

"Yeah...." faintly.

"Guess not, but like...dude was taking autumn wounds." He continues to knead the hat, uneasily* "I wasn't sure if I should call an ambulance, or something, but like....figured you guys would, if he needed it."

"Morthwyl took him. To Jude."

A quizzical look* "They have healers there, then?" The name doesn't seem to ring a bell*

"And prisons."

"Jude's a count."

"He's dead, chimerically. He tried to run after dropping the wyrd."

He bobs a nod, wincing* "Yeah. I guess so. So like, they have a trial or something?"

"Likely. But that ogre murdered and ravaged, so... so the outcome might be very bad. Jude didn't kill that satyr ravager, the one August told me about. But thallain aren't protected by the escheat."

*A blink "Kill, like...but you just did, chica?"

She swallows and nods. "Killed him, yes. But there's a chance the thallain could revive."

"I couldn't kill him the other way." She turns the blade over, inspecting it.

"The other....dude, you mean....like, autumn death?"

His pale eyes widening*

She nods. "I couldn't do that."

"Dude...we don't...he does...that? This....Jude-guy?"

"Jude didn't kill the ravager."

"I don't know. Maybe there is a way to keep the ogre slumbering. To undo him."

He looks stricken* "Dude....I helped...."

"He would have killed that girl."

"After he ravaged her. He would have... used... her, and killed her. There have been other victims."

"That doesn't make it -right-, chica. And we don't KNOW that. I busk around here, man."

"I've seen drained Dreamers, like....a lot of them. If he killed them, man, I couldn't have seen that, could I?"

"There are other thallain active. But the ogres kill. Eat, sometimes." She grimaces, looking faintly green.

"Man, they....still. Doesn't...like, they're still...people."

"With families."

"Who do you think their first victims are?"

"Can I, like...man, I don't....I wouldn't have helped, if I thought...."

"You would have let him break that girl?"

"No." Still looking stricken, kneading the hat* "But, dude. That still isn't right, man. Can we....ask the guy, to like...just Undo the...undo him? Safer anyway. Like, where do you put bodies where cops won't track it back to you?"

"Take... take her music from her, at best. Kill her when she ceased being amusing?"

"Chica....killing is wrong, doesn't matter who it is."

She looks over at her window, then drops her gaze back to the sword. "Not in self-defense. Not to save a life."

"But the guy's not....you have him already. Now it's not self-defense, chica...it's murder." *Simply, his blue eyes troubled*

"Jude is a count. He has better resources than I do."