"Strays," he says to a passing soldier as he cradles Sophie against him. "Can't have flea-ridden cats infiltrating the camp."
For his small talk, he gets another dig to the stomach: he understands what Sophie's doing, but does she have to be quite so... pointed about it? He's trying to keep her safe. There will be discussion about it once they get home, if he doesn't lose half his blood in the meantime.
But he ignores the claws digging into his midsection as best he can and manages a grim smile to the soldier. "I heard a report of some suspicious-looking items near the camp. I'd best be on my way to take care of that. One can never be too cautious this close to the border, soldier. At ease." With a small salute, he picks his way through the rubble and grasses towards the stream. Luckily, the boots and cloak are still there.
"Stop that, Sophie. I mean it. I'm going to get us home and I need you to hang on. You know what it's like to travel by Seven-League Boots."
It's tough enough having both hands at one's disposal for balance, but when one's both bleeding and clutching an annoyed cat... well. It will all iron out in the wash; he steps behind a tree and puts first his right foot then his left into the boots, and he's off with a bit more grace than Sophie when she was wearing them.
To be fair, he did create them, and he's got a far sight more experience with them than she does. When they finally come to a halt near their flower garden, he teeters for a moment, steps out of the boots, and lets go of Sophie.
"Stay right there. Don't move a single whisker, and I mean it." There's no joking around now; he readies the cloak she wore as a disguise and summons the proper magic. A small storm rolls in and there's a flash of something akin to lightning; as soon as it dissipates and her form starts to shift, he throws the cloak round Sophie.
It's different turning someone else into an animal. On the reverse, they sometimes lose their clothing.
"Now. I believe you had something to say about my methodology?"
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2007-08-08 03:46 am (UTC)For his small talk, he gets another dig to the stomach: he understands what Sophie's doing, but does she have to be quite so... pointed about it? He's trying to keep her safe. There will be discussion about it once they get home, if he doesn't lose half his blood in the meantime.
But he ignores the claws digging into his midsection as best he can and manages a grim smile to the soldier. "I heard a report of some suspicious-looking items near the camp. I'd best be on my way to take care of that. One can never be too cautious this close to the border, soldier. At ease." With a small salute, he picks his way through the rubble and grasses towards the stream. Luckily, the boots and cloak are still there.
"Stop that, Sophie. I mean it. I'm going to get us home and I need you to hang on. You know what it's like to travel by Seven-League Boots."
It's tough enough having both hands at one's disposal for balance, but when one's both bleeding and clutching an annoyed cat... well. It will all iron out in the wash; he steps behind a tree and puts first his right foot then his left into the boots, and he's off with a bit more grace than Sophie when she was wearing them.
To be fair, he did create them, and he's got a far sight more experience with them than she does. When they finally come to a halt near their flower garden, he teeters for a moment, steps out of the boots, and lets go of Sophie.
"Stay right there. Don't move a single whisker, and I mean it." There's no joking around now; he readies the cloak she wore as a disguise and summons the proper magic. A small storm rolls in and there's a flash of something akin to lightning; as soon as it dissipates and her form starts to shift, he throws the cloak round Sophie.
It's different turning someone else into an animal. On the reverse, they sometimes lose their clothing.
"Now. I believe you had something to say about my methodology?"