illirica
Well-Known Member
- Location
- Railyard, Naughty Cage (remains)
The werebadger had been out for a while. Since it didn't seem to be doing him any harm and was probably doing him some good, and since the Bloodstones had very much had other things to attend to, policy had more or less been to let him sleep it off and use the time to deal with all of the other matters at hand.
Rhetta had been checking in, and making sure someone was keeping at least half an eye on him when she wasn't there. They didn't have enough people to keep a proper watch on him at all times, which was unfortunate, but that was probably part of the reason behind Ragenard's decision to turn a train car into a prison - not that she could ask him, because he'd passed out as soon as the most recent situation had resolved, leaving no direction on what to do with the werebadger. The cage was barely standing, and none of them harbored any illusions that he couldn't get out if he wanted to, but at least it was somewhere for him to be and to sleep off whatever he'd done to himself, during the attack.
At least it felt kind of familiar, being behind bars. She'd been taking her watch shifts on the inside of the cage, half because she had an image to maintain for the new kids and that certainly presented a fucking image... and the other half because he shouldn't have to wake up alone, behind bars - not if she could help it.
The axe was there, too, now, propped up against one of the bars. Rhetta was currently using it as a backrest, because it suited her, and because that meant that if he woke up and wanted to get to it, he'd have to go through her - but also it would be there, because that might matter.
His name was Broch Asvaldr, which she had gotten the hang of pronouncing the first bit. The second was a work in progress, but it wasn't like she'd had a lot of time to practice. There was an entire question of whether he was the Broch that Ragenard had apparently known, except somehow a whole lot younger and having been dropped out a magic portal. Rhetta had refrained from comment on this situation. It wasn't like she'd known the original anyway - she'd heard a few stories, but he hadn't been around the Pack when she had been. Apparently he'd been there for a while, while she'd been in prison, because everything fucking happened when she'd been in prison.
It kind of made her wonder what the werebadger was missing out on, while he was stuck in the train cage over here. Did he have people back there? How many of them were dead? How many of them thought he was dead?
It seemed to have been kind of a close thing. She looked him over once more, determined that he was still holding steady, and returned her eyes to the Iverian dictionary on her lap, every other sense carefully attuned to the slightest hint of anything that might need her attention - either outside, or in here.
Better that than the waiting, again.
Rhetta had been checking in, and making sure someone was keeping at least half an eye on him when she wasn't there. They didn't have enough people to keep a proper watch on him at all times, which was unfortunate, but that was probably part of the reason behind Ragenard's decision to turn a train car into a prison - not that she could ask him, because he'd passed out as soon as the most recent situation had resolved, leaving no direction on what to do with the werebadger. The cage was barely standing, and none of them harbored any illusions that he couldn't get out if he wanted to, but at least it was somewhere for him to be and to sleep off whatever he'd done to himself, during the attack.
At least it felt kind of familiar, being behind bars. She'd been taking her watch shifts on the inside of the cage, half because she had an image to maintain for the new kids and that certainly presented a fucking image... and the other half because he shouldn't have to wake up alone, behind bars - not if she could help it.
The axe was there, too, now, propped up against one of the bars. Rhetta was currently using it as a backrest, because it suited her, and because that meant that if he woke up and wanted to get to it, he'd have to go through her - but also it would be there, because that might matter.
His name was Broch Asvaldr, which she had gotten the hang of pronouncing the first bit. The second was a work in progress, but it wasn't like she'd had a lot of time to practice. There was an entire question of whether he was the Broch that Ragenard had apparently known, except somehow a whole lot younger and having been dropped out a magic portal. Rhetta had refrained from comment on this situation. It wasn't like she'd known the original anyway - she'd heard a few stories, but he hadn't been around the Pack when she had been. Apparently he'd been there for a while, while she'd been in prison, because everything fucking happened when she'd been in prison.
It kind of made her wonder what the werebadger was missing out on, while he was stuck in the train cage over here. Did he have people back there? How many of them were dead? How many of them thought he was dead?
It seemed to have been kind of a close thing. She looked him over once more, determined that he was still holding steady, and returned her eyes to the Iverian dictionary on her lap, every other sense carefully attuned to the slightest hint of anything that might need her attention - either outside, or in here.
Better that than the waiting, again.