[Maaike]

Maaike had nearly finished her stew by the time the inn's patrons made their move, but only by virtue of guzzling it down like the Therian she was. She'd suspected there'd be trouble of some sort, although she'd thought she'd done a pretty good job of hiding her face by burying it in the steam coming from her bowl. Still, the ends of her hair were died a brassy orange that shouted to the whole world "Here I am, come take me!" and she had only herself to blame for that. Rebelling against a man already dead was all kinds of childish, but she'd needed to do it anyway, and found she quite liked the colour. Still, maybe it was time for a change.

“Seems your quite popular tonight.” Maaike's lips twitched, more out of irritation than shared humour. Maybe if he hadn't been wearing that silly mask, they wouldn't have drawn quite so many suspicious stares to begin with, stares which had inevitably led to her being recognised. Well, who was more the fool, though? Him for wearing something that stood out so much, or her for sitting next to him?

Muttering an oath that would make her mother blush, Maaike cupped her bowl in the palm of her hand. It fit just nicely, which was good, because she needed a good grip. The remains of the stew were still quite hot, too.

“It's been real,” she told Lost with a dry smile as she stood up fast enough to send her stool crashing sideways. The second she was on her feet and braced, she slammed the almost-empty-but-still-hot bowl into the face of the nearest hunter, and as he thrashed backwards with a yell and clawed at his eyes, she pivoted, using the thrust of the movement to whack the next fellow around the ear with her spoon. It wasn't hard enough to do any damage, but she'd learned the hard way that a smack on the ear could stun enough to give her a few precious seconds — and she used them now to hop up onto the table, kicking condiments at another patron as she went, and back-flipped over the head of a burly 'Varian reaching across for her.

Chaos erupted as their attempt to grab her turned into a brawl. Getting out, and getting to Cailean, was going to be tough, but Maaike could squirm and kick with the best of them if need be.

[Leonard]

“Indeed it has,” The Lost replied as calmly as he could mask himself to be. Even as he did, she had already sprung into action, again without hesitation. He remained seated, staying on the sidelines, again as well. Just like before, he was waiting for the most opportune moment to jump in.

They weren't a team so rushing in could have easily put him in her way, especially with all her quick wild movements, like those flips she likes to do. The patron's focus had become squarely centered on the wanted woman. The Lost, sitting at the bar was ignored by most of the dim drunkards. A few sharper ones may have noticed the oddly calm masked man was clearly playing posum, but the poor fool charging past him clearly did not. He was trying to attack the bounty from behind as she jumped up on the table after stunning the first two, but he never got close. Lost chose this moment to spring from his stool, planting his feet firmly into his stance with one foot strategicly placed to trip up the charging drunk. The large man abruptly stopped to try and find his balance, but found this extremely difficult as The Lost firmly planted a mean right to the back of his head.

The man was bigger and probably stronger than Lost, but that just meant he didn't have to hold back. Just the way he liked it. The impact landed just as his balance was disrupted by the step in. With no balance, all that strength the man had was wasted. The man hit the ground hard, though as he did his prize had already lept out of reach. It seemed she didn't need The Lost to protect her, but he already knew that.

Taking down one of the biggest guys in the room in one hit was no small feet, and it earned a moment hesitation from the rest. For a moment the chaos around him paused, but only for a moment. Although he was proud of this, it occurred to him that she had already taken down three or four.

He stomped a foot down hard on the man to make sure the man stay down. The man squirmed a bit and groaned something, but otherwise offered up little protest. He kept his foot planted on the man's back to play up the intimidation angle. Lost knew that only those with resolve would survive this psychological attack, and alreay he could see signs of men beginning to back down. Though those who didn't were far more company than those who did.

It didn't much matter, though. Lost was no stranger to a bar room brawl, and he was just getting started.

[Maaike]

Maaike wasn't surprised that the Mask (which was likely to be his name forever more as far as she was concerned) joined in the fight — she was stunned he was on her side. Whether or not he'd recognised her face on the WANTED posters, and whether or not he was planning to keep her bounty all to himself, Maaike wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead, she'd use his help, and then deal with him as need be when the time came.

But, regardless of her profession, Maaike was not a naturally violent woman, and she certainly took no pleasure from brawls like this. What's more, she was often on the other side of this fight, so it wasn't like she could beat them all senseless (assuming she was even capable of fending them all off like that) with a clear conscience. It was exactly this type of scenario that had made her choose to learn skills that would boost her flight capabilities rather than fight, and she used those skills now to scarper as fast as Therianly possible.

Which was pretty fast when she morphed into her archon form: Too small to grab easily, the blue-black and orange bird was up in the rafters before the brawlers could think to try latching onto the two-foot tail (thankfully). Now all she needed was to find an open window...

[Leonard]

The Lost wasn't proud of it, but he did take a guilty pleasure in fighting, especially against strong opposition. There was just something so fulfilling about pushing your limits to the absolute extremes. Even if he ended up losing, as long as he tried his best, there would be no regrets.

A series of punches dropped another patron. He had sent them out as fast, and with as much power as he could muster. The response from the impacts told him how well he had performed the techniques he had practiced and trained for so long.

As soon as the man dropped, two more took his place. Thankfully, most of the would be bounty hunters had resorted to infighting as their means to negotiate who would claim the bounty. The man in the mask didn't even have a bounty as far as they knew. Though most assumed he did. He only had to worry about the ones around him. That's how things tended to go in a bar brawl.

He bent down and slammed his wings into the two in front of him. It wasn't an incredibility strong hit, but it was often unexpected, it came at an unusual angle, and the flutter of feathers concealed his form for an added element of misdirection. Additionally, the crouching position set him up perfectly to charge in. Unfortunately, you can't expect everything to go your way, especially in a bar fight. Before he could step in, someone jumped off of the bar and landed on Lost's back. His knees buckled, threatening to give out under him, but he fought through it as the man on his back gripped onto him. It was naive of him to think keeping his back to the bar would keep him safe, but he had only stopped checking behind him for what felt like a second. He should have known that in a fight a second was like an eternity. He managed to stand up straight, but he was quickly pulled backwards off balance by the bar hopper.

It was then that Lost noticed that the one person he had closest to an ally was changing form and fleeing to the ceiling. He didn't blame her though as he knew going into the fight that they weren't partners. He didn't blame her even someone started working his ribs.

[Maaike]

Maaike was once the type to feel guilty over leaving someone to their doom when they'd stepped in to help her, but she'd had that beaten out of her. She still had to steel herself against the thought that he may very well wind up dead from this brawl, but things had descended pretty quickly from "fight with a purpose" to "fighting just for the hell of it". Even the bartender had joined in, after a badly aimed punch to the face knocked him sideways into the neatly stacked bottles behind the bar. His roar of a war cry came as he threw himself bodily against the nearest opponent, sending them both crashing through a wooden stool to the floor.

Flittering about in the rafters, Maaike was still searching for a way out. Every moment that ticked by made it more dangerous for her to be there, because sooner or later someone was going to recollect their wits and remember why they'd been fighting in the first place. Archons were great for squeezing through small gaps, even if the tail did leave her vulnerable to being yanked right out of the air, but first she had to find a small gap to squeeze through!

As it was, she wound up perching on one of the rafters to get a better look at her surroundings. The bird's head twitched from side to side as she eyed the fight below, gauging just how much trouble Mask was in. One man against so many, of course he'd get his butt handed to him, but there was a certain amount of damage Maaike could accept before she'd be forced down there by a conscience she insisted she no longer had.

Finally, as one of the hunters stopped on the inn's rickety staircase and started looking around, probably searching for her, Maaike spotted the open window she'd been hoping for. Refusing to look again at the Mask in case his plight held her back, Maaike took off for freedom, with the intention of taking Cailean and getting the heck out of there.

Only then would she consider reporting the brawl as an anonymous tip... and she'd just have to hope nothing too untoward happened in the meantime.

[Leonard]

Body shots are sometimes called 'living hell', because unlike punches to the head, you don't get that dazed bliss from having your brain knocked around. It's the same damage, but your awake for it. Lost knew this well, and he wasn`t about to suffer it when he didn't have to, no while his arms where free. He closed his guard tight, but he was still at a huge disadvantage. The man who had a hold on his neck was disrupting his form and limiting his movements. The man took many shots around Lost's guard.

He had no choice but to eat the pain, and fight through it. He slammed his wings hard on the man behind him. Then he leaned forward as hard as he could while pulling on the clinging arms around his neck.

He ate a punch to the mask as he went down, but because the slugger didn't expect the sudden movement forward, he aimed for the punch to have more reach. So when it landed, he had't fully extended his arm and the impact was awkward.

The payoff of was that the man on The Lost's back was thrown off at the nen gathering in front of him. He grimiced as he stood up again. His abbs and wings were near the threshold of pain that he could manage, but he didn't have time to nurse his wounds. He curled his wings forward as he rolled onto and over the bar. Even as he did, he was begining to transform. He ducked down behind the bar to continue as the men who were attacking him scrambled to get up. Thankfully the bartender was not behind the bar anymore, as the inexperienced Therian couldn't defend himself much while he changed. It was borderline painful as his body began to change itself, convulsing violently as it did. He wrapped his wings around him as he gripped his shuddering body and braced himself for the radical changes he was going through. He needed more than sixty secounds to complete the transformation, which was beyond an eternity in a fight. Thankfully everyone was preoccupied with each other. The men he was dealing with were now fighting each other as they had clumsily attacked each other after The Lost threw one of them into the others. Even Lost's ally seemed preoccupied in the raftors.

However he was not completely neglected. The one who had been working his ribs was determined not to leave him to his own devices. He brushed off some clumsy slugs as he stumbled to the bar he looked over only to be slammed with the last remains of Lost's humanoid wings, followed quickly by some wild swings of his arms, which were now more finalizing the transformation into his avian wings. He let out a canary screech as he attacking in a blaze of feathers. It was more surprising than painful to the man (actually it hurt Lost more), but the barrage of feeble limbs served the purpose of bying him those last few seconds he needed. The man jumped back and swatted at the feathers, hitting mostly air. Whe he regained his composure There was nothing in front of him but a few stray feathers. Suddenly, a tiny white bird flew up, again surprising the man into reeling back. The tiny bird carried in it's talons an odd mask that was both laughing and crying.

The man swung at the bird, but it was already out of reach.

Spotting the long tail of his fellow bird companion, he followed her. The tiny bird was too hard for any of the patrons to hit, even if they did notice him. Percisely why he had chosen this form, and picked a very light mask.

[Maaike]

Maaike was out the window and halfway around the inn to the stables before she realised she was being followed. She was surprised the canary had managed to fit through the window with that mask in tow. She couldn't deny being relieved that he was out of trouble, either.

As the archon came in to land, she morphed back into her human form and skipped a couple of steps to minimise the noise of her landing. Clucking her tongue to settle Cailean before he could start welcoming her (or, as was more often the case, warn her away because he wasn't in the mood to be ridden), she slid into the stable without opening the door too much and collected the azani's tackle. She'd paid the ostler up front and that wasn't money she'd ever see again, but she had higher priorities right now.

“Shhh, shss. Shush, you damn lummox.” She knew better than to try commanding him vocally. He and Magda both had been trained to respond to clicks and whistles, all the better to command them in the wild: She could manage a click even if she was gagged or had a crushed larynx, or almost any other scenario she'd imagined. That didn't stop her from chastising the azani verbally, though, in hushed tones that indicated her impatience to get out of there.

When he was saddled up, she led him by the muzzle to the stable door and pushed it open warily. From the sound of it, the inn's patrons were still brawling their way across the bar, but that didn't mean someone hadn't followed them...

[Leonard]

The tiny white bird landed on the stable that his companion (for lack of a better word) had disappeared into shortly before. He transformed back into his human form, and barely finished as she began to emerge again. His wings unfurled, as his human form rose up. He was sitting on the stable, with his legs pointing away, and his back to where the hunter woman below was. When he changed, he left his clothes, aside from the mask that he was already wearing again. It was something about not feeling like the clothes were actually part of him. His wings came to a rest around his waist, covering his nakedness. Although, despite what he tells himself, he actually feels more comfortable in the nude. Part of the Therian in him. He still insisted on carrying himself in a manor he considers to be gentlemanly, and there was a lady present.

Though, not for much longer it would seem.

She seemed to be about to make her quick getaway. He couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of her leaving. There was a lot he wanted to talk about still. He wanted to talk about the Naga, and her fighting style. He wanted to learn more about that wonderful animal she was leading out of the stables. He wanted to know what she thought about him, how that stew was, and of course there was always the matter of that wanted poster.

Above all else, there was one thing he wanted to know the most, so he decided to just come out and ask, despite himself.

"Are you at least gonna give something I can call you by?" He didn't ask for her name, because he hadn't given one out and was still hiding his face. At the very least she would give him some kind of handle, or call sign.

[Maaike]

Maaike didn't bat an eye when she turned around and looked up toward his voice to find him apparently stark naked behind his wings. She'd been raised feral, and no amount of time in the cities would ever teach her that nakedness was something to be ashamed of, although in his case, it just made it clear that he was inexperienced if he could still manage to lose his clothes through a shift.

And then it hit her: She'd assumed earlier that he was Anyeli because of his wings, but then he really shouldn't have been able to follow her out of the inn as a bird if that were the case. She'd no sooner made the realisation that he must be a hybrid than she tucked away the information for later. She was half-Nymph, so it wasn't like she could judge him for what he was or was not.

“Who says I want you to call me?” It came out far more flirtatious than she'd intended. She was actually being serious. It was his fault they'd drawn so much attention in that inn; if he hadn't been wearing that mask, she could have kept a low profile and probably got out of there in the morning fully rested and unscathed. As it was, she now had to leave the city altogether and wait until things died down before returning, which put a serious kink in her efforts to cleanse Alexandria's corruption. She could find work elsewhere (there was always a need for a hunter), but she'd finally been making some progress here and now, thanks to being spotted, she stood the risk of being bumped all the way back to square one.

Climbing up into Cailean's saddle, she turned him so she could face Mask and touch her forehead in a sort-of salute. She'd acknowledge his assistance in the sewers, but that was the end of it, as far as she was concerned. “Try leather. Animal hide. It morphs with you.” Actually, any natural fibre would, but she was amused at the idea of him in Therian leathers; he seemed far too Anyeli for that.

[Leonard]

Lost was disappointed that she him in the way he wanted, but that was life. If everything went your way then what would be the point? Still, it was only natural that he felt a little down. He felt like he deserved to at least know her name, after all he did just get into a pretty nasty brawl because of her. Whenever he worn the mask he always attracted stares, but he was never attacked for it. If it weren't for her he could have been in bed right now. Instead he was sitting naked outside an inn that he had a paid room in, bruised and beaten. His clothes could easily be replaced, but the gauntlets his master gave him could not. They weren't just weapons, they were a symbol from master to student. An all too rare acknowledgement of all of his hard work, and from that flaky old man no less. He'd have to sneak into his room later and retrieve his things. Thankfully he had thought ahead and left his window a crack open. Just wide enough for a small white bird to fly through. Whining to her about that, wasn't something he felt like doing, though. He could appreciate that she wanted to remain anonymous, after all she wasn't wearing a mask. If she gave up her name, she'd be completely exposed. He realized that she must have had her own expectations.

He'd hope she would explain herself, too, but that seemed unlikely. If he couldn't get her name, he certainly wouldn't get her life's story. He turned back to catch her gesture. He lowered the tops of his wings and bowed a bit lowering his head just slightly in response. He was still sitting, and mostly facing away, so it was a rather subtle and informal bow, but it should have been clear enough.

"Thanks... For everything," he said sincerely after her little her little leather tip, but he was thanking her for all the help she had given him and everything he had learned from her.

[Maaike]

Maaike only grunted when he thanked her. His would-be bow could be considered rude in some circles; Ashton, at least, would have him whipped for a lack of respect, but her husband hadn't exactly been the best example of Dracovarian behaviour. Therians didn't normally bother with formalities anyway, although some clans could be big on the respectful gestures, but she'd picked up some things from living in the city and it was nice sometimes to have those manners reciprocated, no matter how informally.

She wasn't about to thank him properly, though. She probably could have managed the naga alone (albeit with more difficulty), and hunters were more competitive than co-operative.

“See you around, then.” Turning Cailean to face the street, she tightened her fists around his reins. As he leaped forward, she called over her shoulder, “Next time, lose the mask!” — if there ever was a next time.

---

Maaike has left the thread. Eeeeeeh, this was fun!