Brave New World

[Krepta]

Before her was endless sea. From horizon to horizon blue shimmered and churned, foggy at the edges where it seemed to reach out and touch the sky. She had flown for miles now, but still the dragon flew, her glittering red hide stark against the murky water below. She knew she would tire soon, knew she would have to rest--- somewhere, anywhere. That was the thing though-- there was nowhere to rest but in the churning teeth of the ocean below. She hadn't seen another island since she had started her journey. If she landed, she knew, she would die, she could feel it in her bones. Beyond the waters themselves, she knew there were creatures down there, creatures with hungry mouths that wouldn't hesitate to swallow up a beast even as big as she. No... resting wasn't an option.

Krepta knew she couldn't keep going forever though. She began to wonder if in her haste to leave her prison, she had perhaps gone the wrong way. There were supposedly other islands near the one she had left, but there had been no sign of them-- not even a stray sea-bird. Things were beginning to look bad.

What was worse, the she-dragon realized as she turned envy green eyes to the slate gray of the sky above-- was that there was most certainly a storm gathering up there. Normally she didn't mind storms, even relished them when there was the option of a safe place to land, but this time, she dreaded the boiling black clouds and sound of kettledrum thunder in the distance. She didn't have the strength to fly against a storm right now. If she was caught out in it, it would be the end.

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Rain lanced at the sensitive, leathery webbings of Krepta's wings and stung her eyes, driving icy spears into her face to cloud her vision. The wind howled around her ears, threatening to force her into the waiting claws of the angry sea below. Above the sky raged like a mad beast, and Krepta could swear she could almost see the flashing eyes of the monster and feel it's hot breath as it roared it's defiance to the world.

A particularly strong blast of wind sent Krepta spiraling towards the waves below, and the reached long fingers up as if to snatch her from the sky. Desperately she righted herself and powered back up again, lungs and wings burning with fatigue. She couldn't stop now though. If she stopped now she would surely die.

Desperately she searched the horizon, mismatched eyes flickering this way and that as she hoped with everything in her for that telltale sign of green, the thrashing tops of trees waving her to safety. What she needed was a miracle.

She dipped again, struggling to stay aloft. She was flagging. There was no way she would be able to fight the force of this storm much longer. She would have to try something else. Taking a gasping breath of the icy air, she filled her lungs and best she could and prepared to meet the dark ocean below.

Then the sky split, and the beast in the sky surged forward with teeth of white fire and black cloud. Krepta only had a short moment to turn her body to stare up at it in horror and confusion before it's great jaws converged on her in a hiss of static and hot steam. After that, Krepta saw no more.

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She awoke in a fog of bewilderment. Though she was still too weak to open her eyes, she could feel something solid beneath her--- not the depth-less nothingness of the stormy sea. Maybe she was dead? Maybe she had sunken to the bottom of the ocean itself?

But no, something tickled her face, and though it was cool and soft, it was certainly not wet. Crisp and earthy smelling, it scratched itchily at the sensitive skin around her eyes and nose. Unable to help it, she inhaled and sneezed harshly, stirring what smelled like--- Grass! It was grass!

Lurching upwards, Krepta sat up too fast and immediately regretted it as her vision swam, casting hazy doubles of a wide, grassy lawn, some sort of garden area with a big stone sticking out of it, and beyond that, what looked like a house--- no, too big to be a house. A mansion. There was a barn there too, and the lights were on, and--

"Ung..." Krepta moaned, laying back down. Her stomach churned and she retched, coughing up sea-water. She still smelled strongly of brine and ozone, no doubt from the storm. Had she been hit by lightening and then brought to shore?

Looking about, Krepta realized, that was impossible. Her hearing wasn't stellar, but she would have heard the distant crash of the ocean waves-- especially after a storm like that, and there was no tell-tale scent of fish and salt, save for perhaps on her. Where was she then?

As she stared out at the mountains rising up from behind the tall rows of pine-trees, she thought they looked familiar somehow, though she couldn't place how. Come to think of it, while the air was fresh and cool, and most certainly didn't smell like the sea, it did smell faintly of human, amongst other things she couldn't place. Could she be home? She couldn't smell any cars though, and even far into the country, the stink of Gotham's fog could be easily scented by those with a sensitive nose.

Maybe she was in a different state? Or even a different country? She couldn't see any signs around to tell for sure--- and even if they were in English there was no truly knowing.

Groaning again to herself, Krepta tried one more time to sit up. To no avail, though. She was still too dizzy, and beyond that, exhausted. She would just have to lay here and regain her strength, she thought, and then she would go investigate just what kind of strange place she had been tossed into this time. She could only hope it would be better than her last excursion!

[themascura]

"Hey Steele, we've got a new one on the lawn."

Steele wasn't sure who shouted it, but it was just another chore he did not need right now. The ledger just wasn't adding up right. He rubbed his neck with a hand and sighed. Somewhere or other at least two barrels of their good whiskey had disappeared, or someone had pocketed the cash from the proceeds. A couple of strands of salt-and-pepper hair slipped down over his brow, tickling the deep creases between his eyes and over his eyebrows. The bosses weren't going to be happy, and he had no answers for them. To top it off, the noise of the club's day-time operations, though more quiet than the night-time business was wiggling its way through his brain, rapidly evolving into a full-fledged migraine by the second.

The din of dishes being washed and barrels being shifted, bottles being placed, voices laughing, arguing and chatting pleasantly was becoming hard to take. Maybe some fresh air would be good. He dropped a square hand on the fedora on the desk and lifted it quietly to his head, heaving his large frame out of the chair.

Someone in the back snickered. Steele ignored it. Who knew what they were snickering about, anyway? He pulled his hat down lower over his eyes and made his way through the crowd and out the side door- which was much less effort than going through the front door- into the sunshine. The big red mound in the middle of the field immediately caught his attention. He paused for a few minutes and considered whether this… whatever it was… could be one of the dangerous creatures that got tossed through the nexus. The grass swayed in a sudden wind, tiny white and yellow flowers bobbing and dancing around the spot of red in a sea of green. He heard a sudden sneeze, and saw the creature rear back minutes later, only to drop back into the grass and stay down.

Had he seen wings when it moved? Were those horns on its head? What in blue blazes had the nexus spat at them this time? Steele hoped it wasn’t a demon again. The last one had left the whole club on edge, even though he turned out to be a nice enough guy. Some of the really religious members of the crew were just beginning to get over that. Thankfully he had managed to find his own way home quickly enough. The meadow-scented breeze tugged playfully at his hat. He dropped a hand on it to keep it in place and sighed. There was nothing for it but to go investigate.

He trudged through the grass, heading up the gentle slope the creature had landed on, but stopped a few feet away.

“Any chance you speak English?” He rumbled, blue eyes examining the creature. Nope. Wasn’t a demon. It was a dragon. How the hell was he going to deal with a dragon? How the hell was he going to explain a dragon to the others? He certainly hoped the thing wasn’t aggressive. It didn’t feel that way, but he had no way of knowing if his ‘talent’ worked on dragons.

One thing was for sure. He was going to kick whoever had spotted it.

[Krepta]

Krepta had closed her eyes to rest. What harm would a little rest do, after all? Anyhow, if she didn't, she'd never be able to haul herself into a proper standing position, or defend herself, for that matter. The warm sunlight was beginning to feel good on her tired bones, despite the mountain air, and the mellow-sweet scent of damp grass and wild flowers was heavenly.

Speaking of heaven, she was starting to wonder if maybe she hadn't died when that cloud... or... whatever it had been hit her. Nothing had tried to eat, kill, or enslave her yet after all, and with her luck, well, that was downright strange. One didn't feel tired when they were dead though, did they? Not that it mattered, though. There was someone coming across the lawn now-- she could hear the crunch of their footsteps against the soft grass, and then a voice, deep, and in her opinion, the guy sounded like he would rather be anywhere else at the moment

Well excuse me, Krepta thought, feeling rather irritated herself all of a sudden. I didn't ask to be here! Though, she had to admit it was far better than drowning.

Sighing to herself, Krepta reluctantly opened her eyes, flinching a little at the bright sunlight that briefly blinded her and made her head throb. If heaven had headaches, then count her out! Besides, if the man before her was supposed to be an angel or something, he certainly didn't look the part. It was too sunny to be hell anyway. No, it looked like she had dimension hopped again. Probably for the best. She wouldn't have lasted much longer in that storm.

"Yes," Krepta grated at last, shifting gingerly to look up at the man, though she didn't get much more view than up to his knee-caps. It hurt too much to move any more than that. "I speak English. Where am I?" Her eyes flickered to the mountains behind him, stern and proud against the brilliance of the sky. Well, he spoke English, and he seemed to have an accent that was almost familiar to her too, though she couldn't quite place it, so it was fairly possible she was back on Earth. For a moment, her hopes soared, then fell again. It was at least, one of the Earths, most likely, but that didn't necessarily mean it was her Earth. "And when are we, for that matter? What's the date?" Even if it was, there was the possibility that she wasn't even in her own era. At least, from the look of things though, they had working plumping here.

Krepta took a moment to look the man before her over as she waited for him to answer her questions, and no doubt barrage her with a few of his own. That was the interesting thing though--- while he looked annoyed that he had to come out and deal with her, he didn't seem surprised to see her, which either meant that he had known she was coming, or that things like dragons dropping out of the sky happened quite often around here. Maybe I really am home after all, she thought wryly. Nothing surprised a Gothamite.

That was another thing. His scent--- it was human, yes, but it was... other too, though she couldn't quite place what, and with her nose cloyed with fish-stink, she wouldn't be able to for a while either. It bothered her though, for some reason. She felt as if there was something she should be wary of, afraid of even, that faint buzz of nervous energy in the back of her mind and the first hint of adrenaline creeping through her system. He looked normal enough, of that she was sure, but the monsters that looked like people were often the worst kinds. Still, there was nothing she could do about it until either he revealed himself or attacked until she washed the scent of sea and storm off of herself. Not that she would be putting up any kind of decent fight right now anyhow...

Sighing again, she put her head back down and groaned softly at the pain that even that movement caused. Her muscles were all stiffened up now that she was finally giving them a break, and she would be feeling the burn, so to speak, for weeks after this.

Assuming I last that long, she thought, eying Steele warily.

"Got any Advil?"

[themascura]

"Nope." Steele answered her question about advil casually, not bothering to hide the fact he was looking her over. Scales. Wings. Claws and teeth. Scars from here to there, and everywhere in between.

"Got some booze. Might even be able to get it to you cheap. Newbie discount." He took his hat off briefly and ran his hand over his hair. She smelled like fish, or perhaps it was the water that coated her that smelled like fish. Either way, she was in need of a bath. How to get one for a dragon though? This time of year, all the ponds and lakes were covered with a thin coat of ice.

"Don't suppose you get any smaller?" He questioned, although the deadpan in his voice argued it to be more a statement than a question, he debated offering her a hand to help her to her feet. On the one hand, he could probably support her weight for a few seconds, long enough to act like a fulcrum. On the other, he wasn't certain she could get to her feet, or would appreciate the effort.

He had mentally been referring to her as a "her" and "she" in his mind for several minutes before her gender really clicked in his mind. He sighed, ran a hand over his hair again, and offered her his hat.

"Here, for your eyes. As for 'where' we're at, the town's called Timber Ridge. We're in South Dakota." He sounded a little disgusted, squinting his eyes when he mentioned the name of the town, "When... 1922." He kept it short for the moment, then crouched low on the grass beside her, eying her. She looked like she had very recently been in a very vicious battle. If he were in her shoes, just out of a bad fight, in a strange place with strange people, he'd be reluctant to give up the benefit of her size.

"You look like you were in some trouble before you got here, doll. Tell ya what, if you can get any smaller than that, there's a warm bath and a good meal in it for you." He bargained, although his gravelly voice didn't soften in the least bit.

[Krepta]

Krepta grunted, "I don't drink," she replied flatly. Not that it would matter if she did though. Because of her unique physiology, at least in this form, any alcohol she consumed would be very quickly burned off once it hit her bloodstream and would do her very little good in terms of pain killing. Besides, this guy sounded like he was trying to sell it to her, and she was so not in the mood.

She didn't accept the hat either, electing to sit there and glare up at him instead. Through sheer annoyance alone, it seemed she had found enough strength to at least sit up, though standing wasn't yet an option. There was no way she was going to take her human form, as weak as she was, in front of this scruffy fellow. Who knew what his real intentions were. After living for a while on an island full of slavers, suspicion had become even more of a second nature to her, and more often than not, it had saved her life. She wasn't about to give up on her gut now.

"I can shapeshifter, but I'd rather not right now if it's all the same to you," she said, trying to sound a bit more polite, despite her own paranoia about the man. After all, no matter what his real intentions were, he wasn't being rude to her, and until that changed, she would do herself to behave in kind.

Hn. 1922... Krepta tried hard to remember her history lessons about the time. No doubt she had been taught something or another about the time period, but she had never paid much attention during history. She did remember one thing though, and that was that The Prohibition had been going on around this time, which meant---

"You're a bootlegger, aren't you," she asked, pinning the man with a critical eye. Well, that explained the shifty look, at least, or at least in part it did. There was still something a little off about the man. "You had better watch who you're peddling your booze to. I don't really care myself, but you never know who a person really is."

She remembered faintly that among the theft and illegal brewing and selling of alcohol, bootleggers had often been surrounded in death and murder as well. If he tried anything with her he would be getting a nasty surprise. Just in case though, she turned her body as best she could to better face him.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" She asked at last, frowning up at Steele. "I'm a freaking dragon!" Maybe he had been dropped on his head as a child and the mob or whatever just employed him as convenient muscle. Nah, he spoke too eloquently for that. Well, maybe he'd do her the favor of shedding some light on the situation himself.

[themascura]

"Alright, have it your way." Steele frowned a little and placed his hat back above his own brow, "That narrows down your room options, though." He pointed out, rising from his crouched position and glancing back at the club. His mouth twisted into a grim display of displeasure as he mentally calculated how well she would fit through the side door. He wasn't certain, but he thought she could just about squeeze through.

"I could probably get dirty-deeds to get you a warm bath anyway." He stared down at her, gray eyes glinting out of the shadows beneath his hat. He considered her for a long while, and then with exquisite patience rumbled,

"You don't look like a cop to me." He turned and surveyed the field for a moment. No one else was around, probably because this was all private property, but one never knew when an errant teenager would go sneaking through the woods for thrill and catch an eyeful of something he or she didn't need to see.

"C'mon, let's get out of the open." He beckoned, turning toward the club, "Welcome to the Dregs." He waved a hand at the inauspicious opening he had exited through earlier, "We get a lot of your type around here." The tall man continued, apparently not concerned about having his back to a dragon.

"The nexus has dropped all sorts here through the years. The bosses decided to put up the ones who come through, at least until they find a way home or something better comes along. Some of 'em stay." He muttered, trying to remember what the Magician would normally say in a situation like this, "We help 'em fit in. Can't have the locals getting suspicious about the club, or the types that live around here."

[Krepta]

Krepta wrinkled her nose, or rather, snout, and snorted, rather loudly and rudely. "Not on your life," she responded flatly. "If you don't like it, plug your nose." No one was going to give her a bath, and that was that! She might take one when she was feeling stronger, but most certainly no one was going to assist her! She didn't care how bad she stunk! Besides, it was just a little sea water! Sure, it smelled pretty strongly of fish, but there were worse smells, and he would live. For that matter, so would she.

"I was sort of like a cop where I come from," the crimson she-dragon continued once she was through looking thoroughly displeased. "But lucky for you, one, booze isn't illegal where I come from, two, I don't agree with the law, and three, I really don't give a damn." In her mind, that would be like busting someone for Jay-Walking. It was stupid. The whole idea of Prohibition had always been stupid to her, from what she remembered of it. Human beings got their collective undies in a bunch about the weirdest stuff, sheesh!

Then he was moving off, turning away from her and back the way he had come. Was he expecting her to follow him? She could barely sit up, never mind walk! If he thought she was going to move, he was sorely mistaken. She hadn't even come close to getting her legs back yet. A part of her wondered if she ever would, judging by the way they felt. She really wished the guy had had some pain-killers on hand...

He had mentioned something interesting though, which gave her pause. It wasn't often that people 'got her type' a lot where they lived. She was a freaking dragon after all, and in most places, aside from a choice few, that was pretty damn unusual. She wondered what other beasties were lurking around here then, if dragons were a common sight. The idea both fascinated her and frightened her. After all, those particular possibilities came with both the good and the bad. Although--- if her kind was so common, why was he trying to hide her? And where were the others?

If there are others, she thought, maybe they're stashed where he's trying to take me?

She was getting kinda sick of having to hide all the time. Some things, she supposed, never changed, though. Ah well. He had mentioned a nexus as well though, hadn't he? She had heard the word before, though her grasp of the concept was a little vague. She did know that they typically meant interdimensional portals that sucked up and spit out poor, unsuspecting travelers though, which explained her own current predicament at least. It wasn't as if it was the first time, of course, but it never got easier. And while it explained her presence in this strange place, there were still some other things it didn't explain... Like the storm monster that had 'eaten' her before she blacked out. Of course, it was there, and she was here, and she hoped things stayed that way, so maybe she'd never really know. Ah well, some things were worth it!

"I've never been very good at fitting in," she responded after his explanation. She had let him go a little ways off without stopping him. "And I can't walk."

[themascura]

Steele grit his teeth and did his best to smile, turning slowly around to look at the dragon, who was glaring at him in return. How could anyone creature be filled with so much SASS? Maybe the sheer force of it had opened the nexus and tossed her through. He took his hat off and ran his hand over his head, taking a moment to collect himself.

"Romeo! Get out here!" He barked into the club over his shoulder. He took a deep breath and strode back across the lawn toward the dragon.

"Alright, I can carry you, or we can rig some kind of cart to carry you. It’s your choice. Either way, there are people in town who don’t believe in dragons, vampires or myths in general, or we'd like to keep it that way." He frowned, considering the carts they sometimes used to transport the big kegs of booze around the club. She couldn’t have weighed more than ten or twelve kegs. A moment later a lithe young man with an impressive tail of red-gold hair exited the side of the club, approaching quickly. Steele noted with disapproval that Connor didn’t seem at all surprised to see the dragon. Either someone else had told him that it was a dragon on the lawn, or he had been the first to see her.

“Yes boss? Ah, it’s a pleasure miss.” The unusually pretty man paused and bowed a little at Krepta, “I’m sorry to see your trip was so unpleasant.” He commiserated softly, green-blue eyes filled with sympathy for her plight.

“Once we get inside I’ll get you the freshest meal we’ve got in the kitchen. It’ll be piping hot, on my honor.” He promised in his thick Irish brogue.

[Krepta]

Krepta held up the glare for a few moments longer before it wavered, then faded into sheer exhaustion. There was a sadness, just beyond the fierce green eyes, that for a moment, rose to the surface before she quashed it again, sternly. Self pity never helped anyone, and it certainly wouldn't help her here. She would just have to be strong, as she always had.

Grunting with effort, she shoved her knees up underneath herself, dragging her arms into her chest to support her front. Her muscles quivered and spasmed, screaming as, with no great ease, Krepta began to force herself to her feet. She would have to rest later. No point in attracting a bunch of backwoods farmers with shot-guns, was it? Something in her back leg creaked and popped noisily, and she muffled a quiet gasp.

"Where are we going?" she asked, balancing herself on unsteady legs. Where ever it was, they had better make it quick. She wasn't sure how much longer she could go on like this without rest. Ironically, she thought, she didn't think she could shapeshift back right now if she wanted too. She simply didn't have the energy. If she returned to her human body again, it would be because she had simply passed out. "Better stay clear," she warned, "If I fall, I could squish one of you. Hurry it up."

She realized that she was probably being a little rude, but she was tired, hungry, and hurting. They might have been offering her their hospitality, but likely only because they had to. If they left her out here, no doubt someone would come snooping about asking questions, and she doubted they were evil enough to outright kill her. No, it was doubtful they wanted her there, but then again, it wasn't as if she had asked to wind up there either. They were all just doing what they had to do.

Heh, she thought blandly as her muscles shivered and shuddered beneath her, At least it's not raining.

[themascura]

Steele watched with grudging respect as the dragon heaved herself to her feet, despite the horrific noises that emanated from her poor beaten form. He pointed toward the big, typical looking barn, and paused briefly to shout toward the club;

"Lucien! Get the barn ready for a guest!" He started to offer his support to Krepta, but decided she would most likely reject it, so he decided instead to lead the way. Connor, on the other hand, immediately moved towards Krepta, concern spelled blatantly on his face.

"Take it easy, lady! No need to hurt yourself! There's time yet!" He assured her. Steele shot him a look to quell his good intent. To the larger man's mind, the Irish immigrant was only belittling Krepta's efforts. Connor subsided a little, but went ahead of her and began moving any and all obstacles - such as large rocks and boxes- he could find out of her way. Steele frowned and continued his approach, staying carefully near Krepta. She was strong, and a fighter, but there was no telling if she would actually make it toward the barn. For all of her tough-talk, she didn't look well, and Steele was certain that if she fell she would not squish him.

He was stronger than he looked, after all.

"I've got a stew cooking right now, it'll be done in just a few, and then you can have the whole pot!" The red-head assured her, glancing over his shoulder every now and again to make sure she was still on her feet. They were getting closer to the Barn, and so he hurried over to open the doors for her.

A hint of rich red velvet drapes peeked through the door, along with deep umber carpets that looked rich and soft, and the warm golden glow of a fire, or perhaps some sort of electric lighting. What little of the walls and floors that could be seen were embroidered fancifully with elaborate fairy-tale scenes and pictographs.

Inside, though they could not see it yet, the barn had been remodeled completely. A gold and crystal chandelier hung, glittering from the ceiling, and warm fire roared in the mouth of a giant stone lion's head. The bed, a large, red, round device was easily large enough for a dragon twice their guest's size, and took up the entire right rear corner of the barn and covered in dozens of large, jewel-toned pillows. The umber carpet stretched from wall to wall, and the red velvet drapes parted like curtains to reveal the deep green wall paper and wainscoting, along with their storied designs. The loft had been redesigned into a large bathroom, complete with a deep tub- too small for a dragon, unfortunately, but easily big enough for four or five people at a time. There was even a working toilet, although it must have been primitive compared to the twenty-first century models Krepta had seen.

To top it all off, sitting on the nightstand next to a tall glass of water, a large white bottle with a twist-on-lid stood, gleaming promisingly.

[Krepta]

Hn. Stew. That actually sounded pretty good right now. She wasn't sure about a stew made by an Irishman, though; they weren't know the be the best of cooks, after all, but she had certainly had worse in her life than what he had to offer, of that she was sure. Stew it was, then.

Her legs felt like jelly by the time they reached the barn, and she just barely made it. Honestly, she was impressed with herself, but she was sure half her strength came from the sudden and blessed ability not to be able to feel her legs at the moment. She really would have rather continued to lay where she had fallen rather than tromping to some stupid barn, but it seemed that the man in charge wouldn't have that--- at least, she assumed he was in charge. The other one certainly danced around him enough to give that appearance. Couldn't they have just thrown a tarp over her or something and pretended she was some gardening tools?

When the barn doors opened up before them, Krepta had to admit she was surprised. She had expected dust, wooden floors, hay, maybe some old tools or horses, but what greeted her instead was more glitz and glamor than she had seen even in maybe Ven's garish little hidey hole. Hell, though, she didn't care. It looked comfortable. And what was more, there was a bottle of what looked like some kind of pain killers next to the bed.

Before anyone could say anything, Krepta was half-way across the room, suddenly finding the strength to lope for the bottle despite her battered and bruised body. She could kiss whoever had left this for her, she really could. And snatching it up in eager claws, she dropped back onto the bed, unable to stand any longer. That last sprint had taken the last of her strength from her, and despite her protests earlier, she found herself swiftly shrinking, scales melting to skin, claws and fangs to blunt human teeth and nails, and great wings to smooth flesh, thankfully, clothing included, leaving almost all at once, a suddenly human Krepta. Magic was great like that.

She figured she'd have to sleep eventually, especially considering how weak she was after that flight, and she couldn't properly do so in dragon form. Besides that, the pain killers would do her little good in anything but her own body. The dragon's superheated biology would just burn them off, no matter how many she took, and she was pretty sure aspirin a big no-no for canines and felines. Nope, human it was. Hopefully she wouldn't regret it.

After nearly ripping open the bottle and throwing back a couple of pills dry, she turned her eyes once more on her escorts, though it was hard to keep from simply passing out. The bed was horribly comfortable all of a sudden, and she wanted nothing more than to simply go to sleep. Her body needed fuel, though, so she needed to eat before she allowed herself rest.

"So," she said, trying not to sound too hoarse, "How about that stew?"

[themascura]

The dragon made it to the barn without collapsing, somehow. Steele was more than a little impressed now. A woman, especially a dragon, with perseverance and drive like this one had could be very useful to his boss. He made a note in the back of his mind to tell Maximus about how she had walked herself to the barn.

When Connor pushed the doors open, however, his attitude took a swift nose-dive. The plush, gilded interior was NOT what he had expected when he ordered the Devil to set the room up. The large man rubbed the bridge of his nose with a hand. He felt a headache coming on. The boss was not going to like this ostentatious mess of a room. He dreaded having to inform his less-than-cheerful employer about the state of the barn, and half considered forcing Lucien to tell him instead.

At that moment, the dragon launched herself across the room with unexpected speed. Steele found himself caught off guard and even startled, which did not happen often. She reached the bed and crashed into it with what should have been jarring force, but he witnessed the large mattress ripple as it absorbed the hit. He didn't have much time to process that either before the dragon was shrinking, the scales fading into soft pink skin, wings and tail disappearing altogether.

Steele felt his eyebrows rise far out of their normal gravitational sphere. That was... quite the impressive trick. He had seen shape-shifters before, but for the most part their shifts had been between relatively similar shapes and sizes. Another very, very useful talent.

Connor on the other hand, was standing in the entrance of the bar with his mouth wide open, a look of star-struck wonder in his green eyes. Steele frowned.

"God's breath... she's beautiful!" He heard the irish vampire whisper under his breath. Steele frowned more. The last thing he needed was for his resident romantic to start badgering the dragon, especially if he was going to try and find a way to get her to at least help them out.

"Connor, what about that stew?" He questioned. Connor blinked at him a few times, then closed his mouth and nodded, quickly heading for the bar. Steele shook his head and marched across the room, eying the carpets and pillows and upholstered seats as he passed.

"Dirty-deeds outdid himself this time." He grumbled under his breath, "There looks like there's a bath upstairs, after you eat and rest. I can arrange to have some clothes in your size delivered here later. Suit or Dress?" He questioned in Krepta's direction. Connor returned seconds later, the pot of stew and a large bowl in his arms, a spoon sticking out of his pant's pocket.

[Krepta]

Krepta looked at Steele like he had grown another head, eyebrows instantly furrowing into a sharp V at the mention of her apparent clothing choices. Scowling at him, then down at her current outfit--- breeches, a woven tunic, and her sneakers--- all still period clothing aside from her shoes. She could change that, though. It wouldn't be hard to focus her current ware back into a t-shift and jeans, which she preferred anyhow. Still, it wasn't as if she was naked.

"I have clothes," she growled, tone suddenly very dangerous. Krepta didn't wear suits, save for maybe at funerals and other solemn events. And she most certainly did not wear dresses. If he thought he was going to bully her into one or the other, he was sorely mistaken. "I could just wear my dragon form, if you'd prefer," she offered, knowing very well that he did not prefer that. Really, it was more than a threat rather than offering of an alternative.

Luckily for Conner, she had been too focused on the dress problem to have really taken in what he had said, and had in fact, barely heard it. She had, thankfully, taken his open mouthed amazement as a reaction to her swift shape-shifting abilities instead, a thing she was fairly used to by now. It seemed that where-ever and when-ever she went, shapeshifters were usually pretty hard to find, and even moreso ones that could change into dragons.

She was just thankful that it had been a good reaction of astonishment. Nope, no Knights in Shining armor here, or irate priests, or jealous demi-gods---- yeah, that one was quite the story. Anyhow, the point was she was relatively safe for now. The morning would show if there was truth in that feeling, but for now, she was tired, and with the pain killers quickly doing their work, struggling hard to keep her eyes open and her head up.

She hoped that stew would arrive soon.

[themascura]

When Connor returned, pot, bowl and spoon in hand, he discovered the beautiful young brunette- lounging in resplendent repose upon the plush coverlet and glaring death in the direction of his superior. He found his superior giving the young woman an expression torn between confusion and deep, deep annoyance. He hesitated on the threshold, not certain what he had walked into, or what had been going on while he was gone.

Steele stared at the woman on the bed, eyes narrowed. He didn't seem entirely certain whether to fly into a rage or go searching for a dragon-to-human dictionary. At a loss to figure out what, this time, was causing her cantankerous behavior, he took his hat off once more and ran his hand over his pepper-and-salt hair.

"Yes. You are wearing clothes. I'm sure they're very good clothes. What I am offering you are warm, clean clothes you can put on while the clothes you are wearing get cleaned." He bit out, grinding the words as calmly and politely as he could, although his square jaw was visibly tensed.

"I think what the lady's saying, Steele, is 'Thank you, but no." A deep, velvet voice drifted from the darkness near the stairs. The massive shape that was Lucien drifted out of the shadows and smiled sweetly at the man who was, in theory, his boss. Connor winced and jumped forward, striding lithely across the room and to the side of the bed.

"I brought the stew! It's lamb, I hope ya don't mind. Bits of potato and carrots, mm, some lavender and barley too." He hurried, placing the pot on the bedside table and offering the exhausted young woman the spoon and bowl.

Steele turned his disfavoring glare onto the taller man, staring him deliberately in the eye, then slowly and pointedly looking around the room before returning his stare to him. Lucien broke into a wide, toothy smile, full of mischief and glee.

"I thought this would be more comfortable for the lady." He beamed.

[Krepta]

Krepta's mouth formed itself into a displeased scowl, and she was just gearing up to chew him out about the fact that her clothes were plenty clean, and that she did not wear dirty clothes, and just where he could stick those suits and or dresses, when a new voice reached her ears. Quickly, she turned, startled by the sudden emergence of the man from the shadows. Those green eyes widened briefly, and her hands, half buried in the covers beneath her, spasmed briefly, stretching from hands, to claws, and back again before she forced herself to calm.

It was just a man. Just a man. Why didn't she believe that? Something about the trio was suddenly putting the little hairs on the back of her neck at attention, leaving her with a crawling sensation up and down her spine. Why hadn't she noticed before? Something was very, very wrong, though she didn't know what. She sat there, frozen and staring, a deer in the headlights.

The Irish man's re-emergence snapped her out of it, and she turned to stare at him instead, eyes still wide, startled, like she had just seen the scene of her own death. She didn't respond at first, eyes flickering from the stew in his hands, to his face, and back again, while her mind struggled to catch up with her body.

"Y-yeah, stew. I forgot. Thanks." Her words were stilted, forced, and she seemed to have trouble taking her eyes off the new comer, as if she wanted to keep him in her sights, just in case. Trembling hands reached to take the offered dish ware before clasping it to her chest like a life vest. Suddenly, she wasn't as hungry as she had been a moment ago.

What was going on?