#scarsdale

"It's an ABOMINATION!!"

"The chimera, yes - that was the Baby, wasn't it? I was... I'm sorry, I was tired..."

Around them, guards and others are peering into the workshop to see, and then looking away wishing they hadn't.

"You must have scared it."

"-I- scared -IT-?!?!?!?!"

"It cried..." she's shrinking inwards, dark eyes darting over to the lookie-loos.

"I should hope so!" He twists the bar in his hands, 5" of spade-ended steel with a pry-tool at the other end. "Maybe we get an archer or something, we can get it from a distance...."

"Ha! What's his name over at the gunsmithery, he'll have something. Bang-bang? Boom-bang? What's his name?"

"Hirim, no!"

"I'll go check on the baby..."

"Oy, you two! Go get that nocker over at the gun-shop, Bang-boom or something he's called... Zara! Stay out of there!"

"Hirim, no. No, the Baby is harmless. Don't hurt it."

(Unbothered or oblivious to the commotion, it continues to cling, waiting. If the others are in sight, it simply stares at them)

"There's a reason it's here. I should see - I have not been out to Grass for several days, perhaps something is wrong? Just... calm, please."

"-Harmless-?!??! Zara!"

"It's just the Baby."

"Grass, what does Grass have to do..... Zara! So help me if that schmuck friend of yours thought this would be a funny prank....!!!"

He's going red in the face again, swirls standing out on his skin.

"This isn't Ice's chimera. You know he doesn't much... no. I don't think it is a prank."

"Just... stay here? I'll be right back, I promise."

Zara pats Hirim's hand, and escapes the gathering crowd to duck back into the upholstery shop.

Hirim struggles to his feet, trying to go after her. "Zara!!"

But it's too late - the wilder is inside.

(The baby is still bleeding, and now there is a small pool of ichor collected on Hirim's desk. If it is in pain, it gives no indication, merely waiting with seemingly endless serenity for its task to be completed)

"Oh, you poor thing..." she takes a rag to dab at the wound, frowning.

(As Zara enters, its eyes fix on her, and it levers lower on the wall, the package back in its mouth, the rolled-up scroll with her name slightly askew now. It allows her to tend its injuries without protest)

(The tack-hammer is wherever it clattered and rebounded, stained on one side)

She takes the package, checking the note before investigating the contents.

"Zara?" Hirim has forced his way through the crowd and is leaning, shaken, on the door frame.

(The note is in a shaky scrawl, hand-written. "Miss Zara, please forgive the delay in the delivery, I required additional time to prepare a fresh supply." (Brewing instructions follow) "Please let me know an' it is efficacious, and if additional supply is desired. I wish thee Fair Fortune, -J")

"I think it'll be okay. It's hurt, but seems like... I should send a note of apology with it. I know you didn't mean to hurt it..."

(The package, of course, contains a small number of tea-bags, and some loose-leaf tea; both emit faint Glamour)

"Hurt it!??!!? I meant to KILL IT!!!"

The pry-bar in his hands indicates that option is still on the table.

Another flinch as he shouts. "You would not have, had you known it was friendly. I shall send thy regrets, yes, alongside mine."

She pokes around, finding a scrap of paper and a stub of a pencil.

(The chimera stares at the nocker. Serenely. It apparently holds no grudges....and as it watches, one eye inevitably drifts off to the side)

"Who the Hell sent that thing??"

"The Baby usually serves as a guardian, but, it seems, may also bear messages." she explains as she writes. (Dear sir - thank you for the gift, it is deeply appreciated. My regrets for the misfortune that befell your messenger, it startled my uncle.)

"A friend of mine, from Firnost. He sent me tea to... he sent me tea."

(The eye twitches back, to join the other in staring. And its mouth opens, as she finishes penning the missive, waiting. Unlike an ordinary baby, its mouth is dry; not drool-ley)

(Perhaps now, the festive plaid bow is visible)

(PS - please, allow me to make up for the damage. - Z)

"A -FRIEND-?!?!" Outraged.

"Yes. I.. pardon. I had spoken of... of.. things. He thought that tea would be helpful for my nerves. This is a long journey for him, and so he sent the Baby in his stead."

"He is skilled with Chimera. He sent Esther to aid you."

"To help with -YOUR- nerves?!?!?!" Then, gobsmacked; "Chim.... Esther? What?"

"The Baby is chimerical, yes?" another dab, a frown, and she ties on a makeshift dressing from muslin.

(Under her ministrations, the bleeding has slowed, and is stopping. Still, poor Hirim may need to refinish a small portion of his desk, where the ichor pooled)

"Hey, that's -good- muslin!" He almost enters the shop. Almost.