I cannot find a way out of my confused mess of a head. So many raw emotions are bubbling away at the confinement that is my body. So eagerly violent to break out into the real world. Yet, I still do my damndest to focus on the one important thing that will see me live or die.

The idea of a small magic aura, an obscure one, a quiet one...

If it's working or not, I have no idea. But, I'm still hoping with all I have that this is making me less detectable. To indulge in sociopathy for the moment, the destruction I caused should keep most of the guards away. Stick to the shadows and I should be fine.

Maybe?

I hop over the town wall and duck into a nearby alley. Making my way through the town with no time to spare. Looking through the gaps in the buildings, I see the guards and the army of townsfolk with them. Thankfully, this part of the town is quieter than where I was before. I guess the damage to the roads from before tonight and what I've done is keeping people away.

Whatever the reason, little is stopping the town from being alive with activity. People are moving supplies about and the injured or those who are too small. Of all the things that have happened, I have galvanised a community. They're all out in force, helping each other out regardless of where they live. My claw lingers on a building corner and I stop.

It's... Interesting to watch, given how cutthroat I know Tobaballe to be. So few have anyone to depend on that we might as well all be on our own. It's strange. I feel a yearning for what I see, but I cannot tell if it is because I'm now an osibindah. I am the source of the terror, after all.

A living questionnaire with only one question, and only a single answer for the point to be made...

Shaking my head, I get back to my other priorities and slip through more back ends. A garage enters my sights. I find what appears to be a weak point in the nearby main building. I press my claws against it, snapping it down and going through the hole. For the moment, trying to move through a building might be my best option. Just need to pray that no one investigates the noise.

A lock to a door made of iron bars comes into claw and I yank it. Flinching at the ping, I add to my prior prayer regarding noise. Moving on ahead and making it look like I haven't slipped in, I find myself inside of a shop. Not risking it with the main lights, I stick to looking about with whatever ambience I currently have.

"Oh, it's one of those..." I nearly laugh so my misery doesn't fracture my psyche. Neeameth had one of these things in her hands when I grabbed her earlier. This tool is what caused me to mistake the whole situation before the door opened. Though, perhaps I am making excuses for myself.

I should've never been so stupid as to allow such a vulnerability to form. I do not know how I even came to have this learning experience. It's fairly obvious that I should be keeping myself dressed unless I am in a securely sealed building and or room. Though, now, I've got a strange thing to consider in how I can trust no one's voice.

Turning blood marbled eyes to the shop display, I narrow it at the items. All because of this stupid tool, it's all because of this that I am now skulking about this place like a criminal. It's enough to make me just want to scream with all I have. But breaking these tools in my claws will have to do for now.

"Thrurstradtur is going to be so much worse than this." I moan in realisation, moving on with my life as the last item crumbles out of my palm. Still, I cannot help it. I'm continuing with my thoughts of what is happening right now. This is all happening because of a magic tool... And I'm heading to a place right full of them and perhaps worse.

There's no way I'd be able to keep my true appearance a secret in such a place!

"So you're the one who's been making a mess of the town." a young man dryly comments from behind. Twisting around, I almost jump straight through the roof and beyond. I barely manage to stop myself and the shelf is now scarred with my effort. Even now, though, my body still feels like it is running with all it has. I'm grounded physically, but moving in my head.

Wh-Why am I waiting for him to call the guards!?

Staring more at the young man in front of me, somehow, he grows the courage to approach. His eyes somehow sparkle in the barely light. Flinching at some of the noise from elsewhere in the town, I frantically gesture for his hushness. A claw in front of my lips to shush him.

Stolen story; please report.

Yet, as a lack of action comes from him, I find myself curious. His expression is bland. I am an osibindah! And his face is so bland...

"You're that man that was dressed in the beak and cloak, aren't you?" he asks, my eyes widening as my jaw drops. Even the chitters stop!

"How did-"

"Thank you for confirming it," he huffs in interruption, a cocky smile finding its place on his lips.

"Tch..." I let out as I take on a more aggressive posture. Should I kill him? One soul of a stranger to save my own from Undwote again? Should I simply run? Lose the guards and all that again!?

He raises his hands at my movements, "Don't worry, I'm not here to cry 'Guards! Guards!,' in fact... I want to make you an offer."

My eyes widen again, his words as shocking as they are surprising. I cannot, for the life of me and Rose, let my guard down. My instincts, however, are cautioning me to listen carefully. Surely there has to be truth to this, as it makes so little sense not to call the guards if he wanted me dead. Captured at an impossible best.

"I'll hear you out..." I mutter, looking over at the entrance of the shop. Slipping by to the end of an aisle, I watch with caution as lantern light leaks in. It's colandering through the metal grating protecting the shop. Too much is in the way to spot me, anyway. I sigh as my nerves settle for the moment.

"You mentioned Thrurstradtur just now," the young man reminds me, his interest clear.

"I did." I nod.

"And, as you are staying at Founding-Lord Brewbrt's estate. You are most certainly going that way, correct?" he asks, his local knowledge deducting the same answer back out at me.

"I am... I think I still am, anyhow." I say, my uncertainty coming back as I step on some ruined produce. Where one place can have these kinds of tools, more will.

"Well... You best hope you still are!" he threatens with sudden viciousness, his hand coming all too close to what looks like an alarm. I nod again, my temper flaring up over his snarl. This is most certainly a threat, not an offer. No offer has that kind of stipulation.

"Get on with it!" I snap, fists curling into existence.

"Take me with you..." he begs meekly.

"Huh?" I let out in confusion, not through troubled hearing.

"I want you to take me to Thrurstradtur. You're my one chance to get out of this god-forsaken pesthole! In exchange, I'll help you get out of town," he quickly tells me, a hopeful smile on his face as he nods with all the uncertainty in the world. Somehow, it's relieving to see someone more nervous than me. How, though, I have little clue as to why.

"I can get out of town on my own just fine..." I point out, minding my bullet wounds. Flexing one claw about, I mind the streets again. Admitting in the privacy of my head, however... I'd rather not be chased and shot at.

"B-B-But- But! You also came back. Twice. So -you- are here for something. I -can help- you get that out," he says, a pointed finger coming awfully close to my chest.

"Unless you are allowed to go near Brewbrt's home... Then you aren't helping in any capacity." I point out, turning to leave and to get going. I stop as I hear him take in an obvious gulp of air. Twisting around, a growl leaves me as I watch this arm-shifting shit before me.

He stops, holding his hand out as an initial formality before he remembers what I am, "Deal?"

I sneer and snort, "Fine."

"Alright, follow me," he says, his largely moody expression vanishing altogether as he finds himself free of his thoughts. He's almost giddy, just like that. So careless about everything around him with an eager habit to damage what he can. He reminds me of a child, even, one so eager to get home with the knowledge a present is awaiting them.

"So, what is your plan, exactly?" I ask, the caution in my tone inflating with each step I follow him with.

"You wouldn't mind killing him, would you?" he asks back, not hearing a word from me. Turning my head to follow his finger, some fat old man snores away on a seat. Shaking my head, he shrugs and ponders, knocking over a candle. Ignoring the spilt fire and wax, I close the door behind me.

Watching the young man work at something, I discover that I am to be putting my faith into boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. With how little effort it is taking him, they must be empty ones. Though I am beginning to doubt the security of this plan. Once more, I mind the signs of light as it breaks into the back alley.

"You are going to dress up in these. And get on this here cart. From there, I can wheel you either onto the premises or next to them," he explains, a slight shrug in his shoulders. Looking over one of my own, I sniff at the smell of smoke. Guess we're sticking to the plan either way. Certainly not him at risk should it fail. He can probably make any lie he wants...

"Tempting Undwote's pack an awful lot with this." I remark, glaring down at him as he prepares my brief set of clothes. Cardboard and wood, wonderful.

"I like to think you are the one tempting him more. You know, being a parasitical, child-eating, women-raping monster." he scoffs and I growl, fists tightening until we both hear a crack. I am none of those things... None of them!

"Let's just get this over with." I sigh, rubbing my brow, as this really is my safest option at the moment. Uncurling my fists, my claws screech along my palm shell, scratching the plates. I glance at the disruption of my natural shine. Whatever the reason is, I am so polished without effort and I cling to it amidst all the stress. At least I won't ever have to buy soap again.

There's insignificant joy to be had in that idea...

"Make sure you are in those crates and boxes properly. You know what will happen. And, well, try not to squirm," he tells me as I settle into my new means of motion. He continues bringing out more boxes and crates. Heavy ones with actual stuff in them. I grumble as the weight presses down on me and squeeze my head towards one of the cracks. If he's left it for me to breathe with, I'll never know.

Still... "Get going."