[02]>[spam]

[tactical_alert]

[The streets of the city are always made a little safer by the police force, out to catch whoever is seen breaking the laws of the land. And, of course, there are those who don't trust the police at all, whether thinking they are agents of another force working within the city to turn a blind eye, or are power-hungry thugs, or are trying to shut out perfectly legitimate businesses (and by legitimate it usually means highly illegal). Malcolm takes to his job with pride no matter what the circumstances, but lately, he hasn't thought terribly much of all the inattention that's been given to the missing children, snatched from the streets.

Through the days he can be seen out in the streets, patrolling stiffly, head held high, with Izzati faithfully by his side. He looks into complaints, claims of misdeeds, incidents that need a firm hand of the law to step in.

More and more lately he's been seen hanging about the worse parts of town, filled to the brim with the poor and the destitute, where he's heard more than a few tales of children gone missing. He also finds more and more that he (or his kind, he's heard from a few rude mouths about his daemon and his uniform) is not welcome here. So he goes after hours, in the dusk, in plainclothes, sniffing both literally and figuratively for any information.

And sometimes he simply just needs to put up his feet in a pub for a quiet round while Izzati tries to chat people up for him.]

Comments

[with_my_teacup]

[There's a dark, sullen figure in one corner of the pub, speaking to no-one. But, straying as far from him as she can towards Izzati, is a smaller, darker figure; the light too dim to make her gleam her irridescent blue, Wallace crawls cautiously across the floor. She whispers in her high, lovely voice to the other daemon:]

We met a Gyptian boy in the market who said he had been taken; that they tried to rip his daemon away. She had scars on her, scars like I have never seen.

[tactical_alert]

[Her sharp eyes see the movement, and she chooses not to alert Malcolm immediately. Daemons are a fantastic way of gathering information as much as from people, after all. She lies flat, half curled around the barstool, and points her ears forward to catch the whisper. She's careful to stay quiet back.]

'Where can we find him? Does anyone know where they were taken? Who took them?'

[with_my_teacup]

It happened when he was young. The scars were faded. But ask the boy with the ferret daemon. Ask the Gyptians. If it is true it is the worst thing that has ever been. It must not be allowed.

[Her wings twitch nervously, compulsively, and she scrubs at her mandibles with her forelimbs as if there is some spec of dust she needs to remove.]

[tactical_alert]

'The Gyptians aren't going to like us poking around.' [Not that that's ever stopped them before. Not that she'd let it stop them.] 'How long ago was this? They can't have been operating for so long without being discovered...could they?'

[with_my_teacup]

If what the boy says is true, they have been. His daemon is fixed now; he is almost a man outright, and he was too small to remember...how could this happen, in such a big city?

[tactical_alert]

'Money, politics, power.' [She huffs low, aiming the air in another direction across the floor in case she were to accidentally blow the little one away.] 'Mine would wonder how it couldn't happen. Do you know them, this boy and his daemon, personally? We chase so many baseless rumours these days.'

[with_my_teacup]

I only saw the scars. But I have never seen their like before. Not on a daemon. Something happened to that boy. If not this than some other thing. It was horrible. It was horrible!

[Wallace is at the end of her limited gregarity; she humms in distress and buzzes back up to Rhyd, who cups her with a frown of concern in one of his big hands; she nibbles gently on his fingertip to calm herself.]

[tactical_alert]

[She keeps a sharp eye on the tiny daemon, and then on her human. She's up, hopping her front paws up onto Malcolm's lap.]

'Finish your drink.' [A pause, and then, with a jerk of her head in the man's direction:] 'Buy that man one, too, before you go.'

Making new friends?

'The best we've got so far.'

[He gives the briefest of glances in the corner where Izzati indicated, only takes one more sip before he rises.] He doesn't want our gifts of goodwill, or he'd have come over himself. Don't draw attention. [Well, that is an unimpressed puppyface.] We need to go. [Nope, still unimpressed. He sighs and digs out a few coins. They'll be covered in dog slobber, but whatever. She slinks in quick as he moves to the door, hoping her black fur will keep her more or less unnoticed in the dull light, drops the coins quietly by Rhyd's feet, and slinks off again to join her human outside before the door closes.]

[with_my_teacup]

[Rhyd watches curiously, discomforted by the gesture, but he takes the coins and buys sweet, cloying wine: he drinks a little. Wallace drinks her fill and then staggers miserably into his cupped hands, wings shaking.]

[bitteraftertaste]

[It's not that Vesper hasn't heard anything about the missing children - she's just mostly dismissed it as gossip that's gotten out of hand. Maybe a few children have gone missing, but that's to be expected in a world that's unfortunately always going to be home to a few shady characters. That being said, she's noticed Malcolm wandering about, and decides maybe it's best to ask what's going on of someone who might actually have a rational answer. She's been out of the country on expeditions for so long that she feels a little out of touch with this world, even though she looks every bit the society lady as she approaches him, even if her style is a little bit more mannish-but-fashionable than most of her colleagues. Easter follows her with the same air of regality, and while he nods at Izzati, he doesn't say anything to her.] Is there a problem, officer?

[tactical_alert]

[Usually if he's stopped by someone clearly of a higher class, it's to report some petty crime. So this is certainly different.]

Ma'am? I apologize, but it's more usual that I'm the one asking if there's a problem. [He flashes a quick, personable smile that's gone an instant later. Izzati would roll her eyes if they weren't on duty, and she sits, tense but polite at his feet.] As to problems, I'm afraid I could hardly narrow down any one such issue at hand in this city.

[bitteraftertaste]

Really? [She doesn't quite believe that, but she doesn't sound like she's really telling him off, or second guessing him. He's done nothing to deserve that attitude (yet, anyway), so she remains polite and casual. Easter begins occupying himself by washing his face.] I've been out of the country for the last several months, and it seems as though there's been an increase in the number of officers I've seen around the city. I was wondering if there was any particular reason for it.

[tactical_alert]

There may have been, as of late, more unruly incidents. The more people come to the city, the more clashes there are bound to be. Besides, I'd certainly feel only safer with more officers around.

'You only say that because you are one.'

Still, stands to reason.

'People get worried. There are drunkards in the pubs throwing fits, disagreements at the docks, and there's always someone complaining about the Gyptians.' [She won't mention the children. Most people don't even know, or if they do, they don't believe it. Or if they even manage that, they don't care. Besides, if there were more police out for the children, wouldn't they have been able to do something about it by now? Unless...]

Quite right. All an effort to keep the citizens and visitors of Oxford safer, ma'am.

'Have you been travelling?' [Malcolm glances down at Izzati, not caring for the casual question. Naturally, she ignores him.]

[bitteraftertaste]

Yes. I'm a researcher with St. Sophia's. I specialize in the practices and cultures of the various witch clans in the north. [And whether or not her father was a son of a witch is not really anyone's business, but it's still something people have suggested before. It's not usual for a woman to take such an active role in research and exploration. (And it might actually be true.)] I got back from my most recent expedition about a month ago. [Easter is staring at Malcolm, as though he might be able to tell what's going on just from watching the other human. He's really not a talkative daemon on the best of days, and he's more interested in gauging his reaction to the questions and conversation.]

[canfindrope]

Red shouldn't even be outside the college walls. Rube, though - her wolf, her daemon - has been more insistent of late. It's as if he senses the trouble in the air; as if he expects something to happen... and wants her to be a part of it. She certainly wouldn't be surprised, considering their shared love of adventure. even if Rube was the only one who seemed willing to do something about it.

Anyway. When the wolf smells another canine, he hurries toward sniffing Izzati out.]

[tactical_alert]

[She can sense her human's growing frustrations of the past few days. And she knows that they'll simply subside again. He gets so stuck on these moods some days, and his mission to uncover the mystery of the missing children has only intensified them as of late. She can only continue to help him, and maybe get him to open up just a little to the people around him.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, maybe she has her moods, too. The smell doesn't even register; there are wolves around just as there are bats and cats and rats. But it's the sound that gets her attention, hurried paws on the street, and her perked ears swivel along with her head. Where is that...]

'Hey!'

[Her hackles rise, surprised, not caring for the sudden intrusion of a wolf in her face. But maybe there's a problem. Maybe someone needs help.] 'Excuse me, but is something the matter?'

[canfindrope]

'You mean other than my too boring partner?' [Rube glances back at Red, still catching up.] 'Maybe you can tell me.'

[Most canines are involved with either servants or police in his experience. Either way, they must know more than him.

More than Red, too, the way she spends her time cooped up. Never really going out. It's enough to drive him wild, and her too even if she won't admit it. They both need answers.]