Private Tales Fireworks and a White Rabbit

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
In the morning, Hob watched Varys scramble out of bed and throw his clothes on like he’d been touched by a snake. Hob sat up, watching the elf hurriedly put his hair up and walk around to where Jon was brewing coffee. By the smell of it, badly. Hob rubbed one large arm with his claws, looking down at himself. He was back. He pulled his knees up to his chest and put his forehead on them, hiding himself with his ears. He was hurt by how quickly Varys had jumped up, but what had he been expecting? He was back to being a monster now. He blinked away black tears that made streaks down his wormy fur, and took a deep breath.

Fine. It meant nothing then. He got out of the wagon and went to check on Jon, refusing to look at Varys. “Hey. There you are. Doing alright? I don’t remember much...” Jon rubbed at his forehead. “Here. I know how much you like eggshells.”

He offered the pooka a bowl with the eggshells neatly piled up. Yum. Hob tossed it over one shoulder and vanished sulkily. Jon raised an eyebrow and got up shakily to retrieve the bowl. He spooned up scrambled eggs over rice for himself and Varys. Hob only came back to kick his own meal over again and vanish before Jon could call him out. The Transmuter sighed. “You guys have another fight?” He asked, shakily bringing his chopsticks to his mouth. A little coffee and some burned egg was already perking him up. He spat out a little piece of eggshell. He’d never claimed to be a chef.

Oh we’re just fucking fine. The monster and the jerk sharpear. Hob sneered. Here’s a fucking thought why don’t you find a fucking ox? I quit.

Jon stared as Hob viciously kicked the wagon, making it rock, and went silent. “Okay...so a big fight.” He muttered. “What happened? You did save his life. And mine. Thank you, by the way.”

Varys
 
Obviously, he hadn't been fleeing from Hob as an action against him. Rather it was the fear of being caught in quite the uncompromising position, by a man who's mind was still likely spinning with confusion. In the moment, he'd been thinking of Jon's best interest. This unfortunately came with the hurting of Hob's. He bit the inside of his cheek, holding back some decidedly choice words as the pooka made a show out of refusing any food. He couldn't blame Hob regardless, his appetite was strangely sated as well this morning.

On one hand, he'd seen Hob have plenty of casual encounters and move on from them like they were nothing. Perhaps it was so that there'd been some deeper meaning to what happened the night before. If so... He sighs, watching Hob kick the wagon and storm off.

"I'm sure it's a misunderstanding Jon." He spoke quietly, setting his plate to the side. He'd taken a few bites, but it was barely edible. Besides, it was now up to him to defuse the situation that he'd lit in the first place. He doesn't make eye contact with his master as he continues. "Tensions were obviously high last night... Let me go talk to him."

He stands and dusts himself off, walking past the wagon, and off to where Hob had wandered grumpily. This... was going to be a bit of an awkward talk, but it needed to happen. He clears his throat, approaching the pooka from behind. "I think you have the wrong idea here, Hob. I'd much rather have stayed and rested where I was at." He rests a hand on his back. "I couldn't risk Jonathan seeing anything though. He's a mess as it is, think of what it could do to him if we had to have that talk with him right now?" Running a hand through his fur, he offers a smile. "We should talk later about what happened, in private."

Jonathan Burr
 
Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “Alright...” he said, finishing his bowl and reaching for Varys’. No sense wasting food even if it was revolting. He felt strangely hungry this morning, and he’d had such strange dreams. Dreams of being...well, being a woman in a compromising position. He’d even woken up to a mess. It was a strange night for all of them, it seemed. He sighed and ate his food, cleaned the dishes, and shakily went to sit.

Hob flicked an ear back when he heard Varys approaching, but didn’t turn toward him. He felt Varys’ hand in his back, in the wormy fur he hated. His fur would grab and snatch at Varys’ fingers like living things, squirming under his touch. It wasn’t because I’m a monster now? He asked. Are we ever going to get any privacy? To...talk about it. He looked down and rubbed at his eyes angrily. Nothing’s going to change. I’m trapped like this now.

The pooka looked at him. He really did like Varys. There was a different feeling, and the way the elf touched his back felt so much more intimate now. He sighed and rubbed at his fur. We should get away from Volta. He mumbled, going to take his place at the front of the wagon.

Varys
 
He couldn't deny that it felt a bit strange to speak to this Hob as he had the true form of Hob, but he was more than aware that it was the same being no matter it's appearance. He reaches up and runs a hand along his ears. "Nothing like that. I panicked, and I wasn't thinking. As for a private conversation, did you take a moment to look at Jon? I have a strange feeling he's going to be needing a lot of sleep over the next few days. We should have plenty of time."

Seeing the large creature act so insecure and vulnerable towards him was a bit unnerving. If he hadn't known why, he'd be quite worried about it. Hob usually gave off quite the air of strength and intimidation, at least when confronted with any sort of problem. He laughs a bit and shakes his head. "You never seemed to mind being a big toughie before, Hob. Did something maybe start to change your mind?" He teases.

Seeing that Hob had cooled down and accepted his pseudo-apology, he walks back with him to the wagon with him. "Hold tight. I'm gonna go check on the loopy uncle." He circles the wagon and returns to Jonathan, offering to take the garbage from him to dispose of it. "Talked to Hob, it was just a misunderstanding like I thought. He's cooled down. How are you feeling? You were in pretty bad shape when we finally got here."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob looked back at Jon and sighed. He is. He’s got to recover...and so do I for that matter. I’m worried. How are we going to live? Jonathan’s funds at the Iron Mountain kept us going, Varys. It paid for those fancy hotels and the food. It paid for new wagon parts. Jon has never actually been poor, and the idea of going back to his father and asking for a loan...it’ll never happen. The pooka flicked an ear when Varys stroked it. Those are...sensitive, alright? Don’t touch me there unless you want to start something.
He cleared his throat and huffed. I can kick your skinny rear in or out of this form.

Hob took up the wagon tongues, while Jon reached toward the fire. Not with your magic. Use dirt. Hob chastised. Jon sighed and threw a bit of the metal tainted soil over the fire, dousing it. He wiped his hands and nodded thankfully to Varys. Jonathan looked a bit better, but it was all he could do to crawl in the back and under the blankets.

“Like hell, Varys. I’m shaky, I have a headache, I was experiencing some weird dreams last night...why...why are these blankets sticky?” Jon lifted a hand and sniffed at it, then made a face. “Hob...were you drooling back here?”

The mage sighed and wiped it on his pants. “We’re in trouble, Varys. The Iron Mountain was...everything. Once these reagents run out, and we’ve sold all our fire flowers, I’m not sure what to do. I have Voltese currency but that doesn’t do us a damn bit of good without somewhere willing to exchange it.” He rubbed his hand down his face. “We’re going to have to hit a big client, and soon. Keep your ear to the ground for any big events...I’m...I have to lay down.”

Jon curled up on the sheets, shuffling away from a wet spot, and laid his head on the pillow. Hob waited until Varys got on, ears up and wavering.

We really need to get moving... The pooka pointed at a distant dust plume, and a large dark construction on the horizon. A building, smothered in dust and wind, plodding along the plains. If we’re lucky they won’t spot us.

Varys
 
Varys was extremely glad he wasn't facing Jonathan when he began voicing complaints about the back of the wagon. He'd need to remember to give it a decent clean soon. But he was laying back down already? He must have been in worse shape than Varys had thought. Climbing into the front seat of the wagon, he reaches down and gives the Pooka a pat of his hand once more. He was right, Volta had brought them nothing but bad luck, and they needed to cut their losses and find a means for more stable funding before they were completely broke.

"You're right Hob. Gee, if only we had a dashing young fellow who happened to know the ins and outs of living life with less than a handful of change..." He smirked. He'd spent his whole life poor, so the prospect of having to live on slim pickings for a while didn't frighten him as much as it might have them. "You know, I'm not barred from Volta, I could go an exchange what we have and be back in--" He trails off as he sees the pillars of smoke rising in the distance, a large dark vehicle of some sort approaching. It was still a ways off, but it was fast enough. If they hustled, Varys was confident they could keep ahead of it.

"The Abbey you mentioned last night, right?" He purses his lips and looks around, attempting to think of a suitable place to head towards that would take them away from both Volta and The Abbey.

Reaching down, he again places a hand on Hob's back. It was perhaps an unspoken means of expressing something he wasn't able to say at the moment. "Head Southeast, as fast as you can go, Hob. Don't hold back on me." There was one town where they had a chance to recoup their losses fast, it was just a matter of getting there.

He turns around and whistles to the relaxing Jon.

"Hold on as tight as you can, Jon. We've got company and we're gonna have to hoof it fast!"

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob considered it for a moment. Varys could technically run back in and exchange their money...but the Abbey was far too damn close for his liking. Varys seemed to have a plan as to where their next meal was coming from, however. Southeast. Hob tightened his grasp on the tongues, and began to run as fast as he could.

Jon winced and put his hands over his head. Oh gods, being bounced on the rough plains was worse. He struggled to sit up and pull up the tailgate before he slid out entirely, locking it in place with a brass pin. He squinted, and sat down sharply as Hob went over a bump. “Is that the Abbey..?”

Yes, and you two are prime collar bait if we don’t lose them! Hob snapped at them.

“Slavers.” Jon groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “And I’ve got absolutely nothing to bribe Circen with...”

Hob glanced back at Varys. What have we got for weapons other than the flowers?

“She’s turning!” Jon shouted. Indeed, the building was slowly shifting to come after them. As it drew closer, it was a bit of a demented construction. Once a storied mansion of wood and stone, it had been mounted onto a platform of wheels that flattened the plains under it, producing loud rumbles and squealing noises. A long line of mules drove the mansion, a hundred long and four abreast. “Hob watch for Hounds! She’ll start releasing them soon!”

Hob swore under his breath.

Varys
 
Varys bit his bottom lip in concern as Hob began to sprint forward with the cart. If there was anybody he trusted to get them to safety, it was the pooka. Even so, he didn't like the idea of hounds coming after Hob. It'd slow them down significantly, and Jon couldn't even stand up, let alone defend himself. He spins around in the seat, calling back to Hob.

"Keep going and don't stop for anything. We can't afford to lose anything in the wagon anymore, but I've got you covered. Just focus on getting us the hell out of here."

As carefully as he is able to under the bumpy and unstable conditions, he slides down to the back of the wagon, reaching under one of the remaining stacks of cargo and retrieving his bow and a handful of arrows. He kneels down, his shoulder against the tailgate as he looks out at the Abbey. If it were closer, he could maybe start picking off mules to slow them down, but the sheer number would render that an ineffective method.

He looks at Jon, a plan taking shape in his mind. The only downside was that Jon would have to chip in, and Varys wasn't sure how much the mage had left in him, if any at all.

"Jon, how long do you need to prepare some magic for me? There's a small stretch of river that we're going to hit in about 20 minutes at this speed. I need to know if you can get us across somehow. If not, tell me how I can do it. I have to try."

His attention is drawn away from Jon by the sound of angry barking closing in on the wagon. There were the hounds Jon mentioned. It didn't matter to Varys, they were already in close enough. He readied his bow, taking shots at the hounds as they approached.

Jonathan Burr
 
Jonathan sat up uneasily and moved aside as Varys took up a bow. He drew the glass sword he had, though he wasn’t sure how much good it would do them. He listened to Varys’ plan. Maybe he could..? Transmuting water was possible. Water itself wasn’t living, only the things within it, so Jonathan’s magic would work. “I...I’m not sure. I can try parting the river just enough for Hob to cross, but I need to be able to touch the water.” Jon admitted. “Hob, if you get into the water and I throw down the tailgate, can you promise me you won’t slow down?”

I hate water! Hob shouted back. But fine, you lot better have a good goddamn plan!

Jon steadied himself, blade at the ready. “There.” He pointed at six figures racing across the plains after them. They weren’t dogs, even if they growled and made high pitched noises like a pack. As they drew closer, Varys would get a good look at them. They had once been human, but they ran on all fours. Nasty glass claws were attached to their fingers, and they wore hardened ceramic teeth bristling with sharp edges. Their lips, eyes, noses, hair and ears had all been hacked away, leaving their grotesque teeth on display.

Two of the hounds were aiming for Hob, who struck out at them with his spare set of claws. The other four were trailing the wagon. One leapt onto the tailgate and lunged for Varys’ face. Jon skewered the hound through the chest and it dropped off with a gurgle. Two others latched onto the side of the wagon, and the last grabbed the side of the driver’s seat.

Varys
 
Parting the water? It wasn't exactly what Varys had in mind, but it was something. It'd not only get them away from the Abbey, but it would also cut their travel time to less than a single day before reaching town, if they timed it right. "Jon, if you can pull that off, we'll come out the other side just minutes from Oban. It's well fortified, so the Abbey wouldn't dare try to start anything with us there."

On second glance, the creatures approaching weren't dogs like he'd thought. No, they were some grotesque combination of flesh and metal. Just what on earth did these monsters do to people? The building itself was devious; It could likely remain still and resemble nothing more than a normal structure. He felt himself scowling, thinking of all the homeless wanderers that were likely scooped up under the guise of shelter.

He drops one of the approaching 'hounds' with an arrow, but not fast enough to avoid the other lunging towards him. Thankfully, Jon had some excellent timing. He nods a silent thanks to him, before gripping an arrow and leaning over the side of the wagon, plunging it into the head of one of the aberrations. That was three down, and four to go. Jon could handle the one on the other side of the wagon, so Varys readies another arrow and shoots off the hound clinging to the front seat.

That left the two attacking Hob, and the one he'd left for Jon. Dropping his bow, he climbs into the front seat and shouts at Hob, hoping he can hear him. "Swerve slightly to the right, but hold true to our path!" He reaches behind him, picking up one of the heavy jars from Volta. The moment Hob serves a bit, he uses the open space to chuck the jar at one of the hounds.

Jonathan Burr
 
Jon listened carefully for the scrabbling, and slid his blade between two slats under a shelf. By the loud cry, he’d struck true, and he pulled the blade back and sat down. He looked back at the Abbey. It was an innocuous-looking construction; there were no outward signs it was run by a small family of slavers. Jon had been suckered in by its welcoming door as a younger man...and he didn’t want to step inside again without his magic at full strength.

Not the goddamn jars! Hob shouted at Varys, one arm flying out to grab the jar before it spun off and shattered. The Hound the jar had been designed for took advantage of the arm, and sank its teeth into Hob’s bicep. Hob roared in pain, but he had far bigger jaws. He leaned over and simply tore the Hound off his injured arm, shaking his head like a pit bull. He dropped the dead Hound and shoved the jar at Varys. Don’t throw our livelihood out!

The river was fast approaching. Hob plunged into the water without question, ears held above the waterline. Black blood seeped from his injured arm. Jon pulled the pin on the tailgate and threw his legs over the side. The water pulled away from the wagon, leaving it on muddy, rocky soil. Hob pulled as fast as he could, and the minute he was on the shore, Jon let the river collapse back into place.

Varys
 
Varys had been confident they'd be able to recoup the losses one jar would be worth, but he didn't have time to argue with the pooka. He tucks the jar away, leaning forward and shouting to him as he bats his attackers away. "Here we go, Hob. Just get us through the water and we should be alright!" He was mildly worried about the wound on the creature's bicep, but it wasn't too deep. He could help him treat it when they were safe inside the walls of Oban.

He didn't have the nerves to look dead ahead as they hit the water's edge, ducking himself down against the wagon and closing his eyes shut. He wasn't one who had much faith in deities or gods, but he may have mouthed a silent prayer as he heard Jon open the tailgate. He felt the cold splash of the water as it hits his back, no doubt splashing in from around them. He only hoped the water didn't damage what little good they had left. He worried about Jon, exerting himself again so soon, and he knew Hob was likely under tremendous stress. He'd have to make this up to him somehow.

When they finally emerged, they could see the tall walls of Dalriada only a half hour's trip ahead of them, standing taller than the Abbey they'd feared. Oban wasn't a pleasant city by any means, but it was much better than the alternative in this case. Letting go of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, he collapses into the back of the wagon. For the second day in a row, he'd escaped peril by a narrow margin. He didn't know if he'd ever felt so exhausted in his life. They were safe now, though. The Abbey had no way across the river. Even if they tried to use the same methods Jon had, they'd need an entire battalion of mages to part the river wide enough for their oversized slave camp. Any pursuit from Volta's government would likewise have to go around the river; a few days trip at least.

"You can stop Hob. We should be safe now..."

Jonathan Burr
 
Jon could barely hold the river. The second their rear wheels hit land, he collapsed back. Blood flowed from his nose and his eyes were unfocused, his breathing shallow. He’d taxed himself further than he should have, then took a step beyond that. Hob stumbled for a moment, blowing black blood from his nostrils. He sneezed it out stubbornly and took a few steps. He had to get them inside the gate. His strength was shriveling, his extra pair of arms dropping off his sides. His face fell off, rotting off and turning to dust. Hob cried out in pain as he hauled them through the gates, claws crumbling and his body shifting in a series of crackles.

Rib cage narrowed, hips widened, legs turned long and shapely. Shards of his skull fell off to reveal the feminine shape, and she collapsed forward, flopping on her side on the road. Bleeding from her nose, with a horrific bite on one arm.

It wasn’t going to be a hidden sight either. Hob didn’t have the strength to make herself invisible. She was bared for all to see, naked and heaving for breath.

Varys
 
When he didn't get a response from either of them, he let out a long sigh and flipped his body to look at Jon. Just as he'd worried, he was in rough shape again. The nosebleed was a mess, but Varys was a bit more optimistic than he'd been last night. He knew he could take care of him. Climbing to the front of the Wagon, he sees Hob curled up and unconscious as well. The bite that had looked fairly inconsequential on her larger form looked much more worrying when she shrank to this size. He'd need to clean it.

He looks across the river, The Abbey was already pulling back from the river. He wasn't sure what they intended to do, but they weren't getting to the three of them without a few days of travel, and that was assuming they were stupid enough to anger the royal family of Dalriada. For now, they were safe. He slides off of the wagon and collects Hob into his arms, laying her on her back beside the unconscious Jon. He wrapped Jon in his bedroll, and climbed in behind the two of them.

Sitting behind their sleeping forms, at their heads. He measured that he had enough water in the water-skin he carried for drinking to care for them. The river's water wasn't much of an option, as it was likely salt water. That probably played a part in Hob's almost immediate adverse reaction.

He first disrobes from the waist up, his jacket and shirt sliding to the floor. He folds his shirt and wipes the blood from Jon's face, propping him up on his side so it didn't all run down his throat His bleed wasn't really particularly bad, it just looked scary. He opens his water-skin and holds it to the other side of the shirt, soaking it thoroughly before leaning over to tend to Hob's wound. It was deep, but not life threatening, so long as he made sure to take the proper precaution. He cleaned it thoroughly, having had to do this same thing to his own wounds many times in his earlier days in Fal'Addas.

When the wound was clean, he took the glass sword at Jon's side, and cut a strip from his sacrificial shirt. It wasn't exactly a bandage, but the fabric would keep her arm from the elements until they got to a more talented healer. He wraps the arm up snugly, and sets the rest of his water aside; They'd be thirsty when they awoke.

He leans back, watching the clouds hover overhead. They were right back where they started last night.

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob woke first. Quietly. She lifted her head and looked at Jon, touching his cheek. Poor bastard. He was burning hot, in the throes of magic overuse. He needed a good week to rest, maybe more. She didn’t know how much money they had left...but she hoped it was enough to last the week. She looked at her arm, wincing. That bite had hurt. The bandage was soaked through with grey. She looked over her shoulder at Varys, smirking.

“Plan worked. Better than I thought actually. The Abbey can’t stop. It’s too heavy. Forcing them to stop like that will dig the wheels in, gives them a few days of work to get it moving again.” Hob said, reaching over to fix Jon’s hair and cuddle him up in the bedroll. She kissed his cheek. “Poor thing. He’ll need time to recover from using that much magic. So...we can pickpocket, or I can start hooking.”

She rolled her shoulder, moving to sit next to Varys. He wasn’t half bad in a fight, honestly. She was proud of him. “We’d all be in collars and on the way to Persian if it wasn’t for you. Not that being a pet would be a bad life...just not for either of us.” She chuckled.

Varys
 
Varys blinked his eyes open when he heard Hob's voice, looking down at her and wiping his eyebrow. She looked to be in decent condition, so he must have done something right. Jon was another thing altogether. He'd be alright, but he'd probably need a long bout of rest that didn't seem to come their way easily as of late.

He stays in his spot, smiling a bit to Hob as she worried over Jon. "Yeah? Well, that's good then. Honestly, I just thought of the closest town with the highest walls. Volta is a bit out of the way, so we didn't have many options..."

He clears his throat when she lists some options for making money. He certainly didn't like the idea of regressing back to street thief, not after making so much progress away from that trade. As for her other suggestion... "I'm really not keen on lending you to other men, Hob... I got us out of that mess, and I can find a way to get us out of the next, I'm sure. I could use what we do have and run some smaller displays, things that don't require too much magical enhancement? Oban is a wealthy city, so we could probably make some decent coin performing on the streets."

There was one other thing he needed to mention to her, and she wasn't going to like it very much. "I should warn you, Oban is a bit 'oppressive' towards the fairer sex. At least in the wealthy districts, women aren't afforded all the same rights as men are. If they see you in this form doing anything that looks remotely magical, we'll be in a bit of trouble. I'll have to take the lead."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob chuckled. “First chance I get I’m shoving Emelia Bram’s own boot up her skinny grey haired ass.” She sighed. “Has to be hard when your own mother hates you.” She reached out and touched Jon’s shoulder affectionately. “But...not much we can do about that now.”

She leaned back and laughed when Varys shot down the idea of spreading her legs to make some coin. “Oh so it’s you lending me out now? Not me choosing?” She grinned and kissed his cheek. “It’s alright, I’m not keen to be lent out. But...been a while since I’ve been out. My magic doesn’t last half as long as Jonathan’s but he has taught me to bullshit with the best.”

Her face fell a bit at the notion of Oban being misogynistic. She wrinkled her cunicular nose. “Ergh. So where can we go to have a little bit of fun? Jon will be fine. The flowers arent worth much without the performer. Everyone will just see jars of dirt.” She put a hand on Varys’ thigh. “I could do with some dinner.”

Varys
 
"It's less the people themselves who hold the opinions and more the royal family. I doubt we'll get too much hassle as long as we aren't too careless." He did take a bit of pause to mull over what she'd just said though. He hadn't met Bram, and everything he'd heard of her was from Jonathan. Her son... well, that certainly explained why Jonathan seemed to dislike talking about her. "Emelia's his mother? He left out that detail..."

He didn't blame Jonathan for not telling him. It wasn't truly vital information, and it was perhaps more personal than he cared to dwell on. It had taken Varys time to trust Jon with his own secrets, after all. Varys had a bit of knowledge on how having an uncaring parent felt, but one that was actually trying to kill him? He couldn't fathom.

Clearing his throat and tilting his head a bit towards her when she presses her lips to his face, he decides there's not much point being subtle with Jon asleep. "I think at least until the two of us figure out what 'this'-" He gestured between Hob and himself, "Is... I'd much rather not have you seeking out other partners... Is that wrong of me?" He knew he was beating around the bush, but it was the only way he could think to put what he meant into words. His legs open a bit when she touches his thigh, and he looks around the cart. "Well, there's water in my water-skin I saved for you, and we probably have a little bit of food left. Do you have a preference?"

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob nodded. “I think he took the surname Burr to mess with her a little. As far as I can tell...she only had him for the political clout. When his father became more use to her as a gravestone a mourning widow could use for sympathy....I think he lost all the will to stay in that town. I liked his father. Big red hair, smiled a lot.” She looked down sadly, and cleared her throat. She looked over at him. What was it between them? A night of fun or something more?

“Thought of you touching another woman makes me want to split her head open like a rotten gourd.” Hob admitted. “What I was thinking was...what if I steal Jon’s robes and we go out? Like a couple might..? Or...is that too strange?” She pulled an ear over her shoulder and fiddled with it nervously.

Varys
 
His composure cracks at her admission, the thought of Hob so intensely jealous over him was so amusing that he couldn't help but let his head fly back in laughter, his arms crossing over his chest. Well, that more or less confirmed that there were at least some mutual feelings involved in this. He reaches out and pulls her into a hug.

"It's not strange, and I'd actually like to try that with you..."

He looks at Jon, a bit of red still showing at the base of his nostrils, his breath shallow and skin flush. The idea of taking Hob out was an appealing one, but at the same time he couldn't discount the irresponsibility of the act. He slides his jaw back and forth, his tongue running thoughtfully along his teeth as he mulled over her suggestion.

"I want to, but... we can't leave Jon here all alone. It's thirty minutes to the city by wagon, let alone on foot. We don't... really have the money to spare for a nice dinner either." He gives her an apologetic look, resting a gentle hand on her ears. "I'll tell you what though, the first night we get the chance, and we can be sure Jon's safe... I'll get you some clothes and we'll do that. Promise."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob nodded, looking at Jon. “He’s a sweet man. Sometimes I wish I could calm that jumbled up mind of his.” She sighed. “But you’re right. Running off like this? After Emelia did that to him? To me? She’s trying to rip me away from him, to get control over him again. Figures when he shows a little talent she wants her claws back in, and wants them deep. It’s not right to leave him alone.”

She leaned into his side, sighing and cuddling up with him. “I guess we can try and contact an old friend of his. There are a few names...I’m not sure how many could or would help us. For now, I’m just glad we’re alright. Alive, that is.” She chewed her lip. “Are you sure you...want to try this? With me, I mean. Someone who switches genders during the day?”

Varys
 
Varys relaxed against the rabbit, his arms wrapped loosely around her body. Jonathan was talented in many areas, but there was one that he was only just beginning to realize he was skilled in: Hiding his emotions. Varys had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve to an extend; if something bothered him, he usually made it known.

Jonathan was different, he exuded such a confidence and sureness that made one think he was always in control of the situation. In actuality, he couldn't imagine the stress his circumstances must put on him. Yet he'd been devoting so much energy to helping Varys out, that now he couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty about it.

He hums lowly, looking over at the girl clinging to his side. "All we can do is help him get better. Whatever that takes, we'll make it work." He offered a smile, and runs his hand down her ears as he speaks. "Hey... This is kind of a new thing for both of us. I'm not even sure where we stand yet, but what's the harm in winging it and seeing where it takes us? Last night was... I don't know where that came from, but it's definitely not something I regret." It still felt strange to talk candidly like this with Hob, but she was showing much less confidence now than she did the night before. "The least we can do is try, right? It's not like you're not you when Jon's awake. You're just wearing a fancy disguise." He smirks. "And apparently putting up a convincing tough guy front."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob was grateful for Varys, and not just because she was enjoying being herself around another person. It was good for Jon. Jon had a habit of picking up the broken, and trying to help them piece themselves back together. He couldn’t do it for himself, so he did it for others. Hob liked him, it was why she’d agreed to be bound to a brave little teenager who had stolen books on pooka from the University. A teenager who had been forced into nothing but public appearances and was quietly shelved in academia when interest waned. It was no wonder he’d fallen in love with a mage trapped without her feet in a city that hated him.

She loved Jon, but he’d always be a little brother to her. The man stroking her ears and stoking fire between her legs...she looked up at Varys, with a soft smirk. “You know, when I told you my ears are sensitive...I wasn’t joking.” She teased. “I don’t regret last night either...don’t mind sharing the other bedroll either.”

Hob reached out with a dainty foot and pressed it into their bedroll. It fluffed up, becoming a nest of fuzzy white down not dissimilar to her own fur. Long, soft, and thick. She got up to burrow down in it, looking up at Varys with a coy smile. “Want to come to bed?” She stretched herself out in the fur, crossing her legs lazily and arching her back just enough. Posing for him, just a bit. If he could tease her with her ears, she could do the same right back. She flipped over and put her chin in her hand, legs propped up at the knee and waving back and forth.

“Maybe I should fix the blanket.” She got on all fours and began spreading out the furry blanket, turning her rear toward Varys as she worked. Maybe wiggling it a little more than was necessary. She looked back over her shoulder.

Varys
 
He snickers, knowing full well what he was doing was nothing short of asking for trouble. Still, it was an affectionate gesture that came naturally to him. It wasn't as though she'd been discouraging him. The tragedy of Jonathan's obvious feelings for that lady from Electric Dreams wasn't lost on Varys. Not only could she evidently not leave that building, but now Jonathan was barred from entry into the city. It was an injustice, and Varys would need to eventually deal with Bram somehow. He had no doubt she would be seeking them out in time.

A slight tinge of color rushes to his cheeks when she stretches her leg out to transform the bedroll. He definitely couldn't deny that it looked much more comfortable after she was done with it. As she burrows into it, he tries to think of a witty retort while his thoughts are otherwise distracted by her flaunting her figure towards him. Yeah, she definitely knew how to show off...

"I, ah... suppose that isn't the worst idea. I haven't slept yet, I stayed awake to watch you two."

She was teasing him, and he knew it damn well. She climbed out of the roll and spread it out on her hands and knees, brazenly presenting her backside to him with an eager wiggle. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he mutters something under his breath before clicking his tongue at her.

"Make some room for me, and I'll gladly join you."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob smirked. “Well if it’s just sleep on your mind..” she teased, and laid down on her side, patting the fur next to her. “Strip out of those clothes and come here.”

The pooka cuddled up to him eagerly, smiling at him. “You know, tomorrow we should actually try exercising your magical talent. I’m a conduit, after all. I’ve got to be good for something. I could teach you little things like what I did to the bedroll. You’ll need a lot of experience before those things become permanent....but it could make things easier for you. A little copper in your pocket turns to gold. A lice infested pillow becomes silk and wool. It just can never be anything living. No wood. No flesh. No bone. Can’t reanimate corpses and that silly nonsense.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. “Get some sleep.”

Varys
 
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