wizard_howell | (no subject)

(no subject)

The sunrise here to the north is a spectacular affair; it finds him at the edge of a pond, contemplating the water's flow over the rocks. Lesson one is learned: nighttime in Strangia is no time at all to be out and about on one's one. It's more than evident that the country as a whole is not only preparing but almost completely prepared for war: things are locked down tightly and friendly faces are few and far between... even to one dressed in the unmistakable uniform of the Strangian army.

It's all right, though. He's learned far more in this one night than the King of Ingary might have hoped for; the work he and Sophie have been doing certainly is both appropriate and adequate. There are strange magics at work in this land: they're as tangible as the water in the stream at his feet. As much as he'd prefer to be home bickering with Sophie over doing too much work or the merits of cooking on Calcifer, he understands why he's here. If Ingary suffers from one thing, it's a false sense of security. Things are far worse than he (or, he suspects, the King) imagined. Everywhere, there are stockpiles of munitions and canned goods and clothing; storefronts have been turned into military effort workshops; anti-Ingary signs grace every street corner.

He's not quite sure what Ingary has done to incur such hatred, but he'd like to understand it. Unfortunately, he doubts he'll have that luxury: there's movement in the distance and so he takes his rifle in hand and stands tall: watching, waiting, listening.

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[You might have ASKED!] Sophie fumes, even as she stretches four short legs covered in black fur in a dash towards the oak trees. [Just because you chose a disguise too, Howl, that hardly makes us even!]

Why do people always feel compelled to turn her into things? Why her! At least when she was old she only had two legs to deal with, as opposed to trying to maneuver four -

- and as soon as she starts trying to think about how, exactly, to coordinate all four legs, she loses the instinctive knowledge she's had of how to run in her new form and sprawls onto the ground with un-feline grace.

Form imposes certain habits; her next impulse is to sit herself up, lick her paws, and do her very best to pretend that that didn't happen. She represses it, picking her way sourly across the few feet remaining between her and the forest.

[I might have asked; you're right.] He nudges her gently with his snout, moving her deeper into the trees. [And then I might have had to explain to the Strangian army why I was consorting with a southerner, and that would have led to all manner of mayhem because they'd have tried to take you prisoner and I wouldn't have stood for that, and we'd be in a bigger muddle than we are now.]

Honestly, he'd tell her to relax into her form; he remembers the first time he was a cat and how awkward it was at times. But right now they don't have the luxury of lessons. She's followed him to a war zone, and that's risky business.

[Be glad I didn't turn you into a roach.]

There's always a bright side to everything.

[Excuses!] Sophie retorts, with a hiss and a flash of fang for good measure. [You'd been consorting with a southerner for the past ten minutes without it bothering you overmuch. And let me tell you, Howl Pendragon Jenkins What-Have-You, if you'd turned me into a ROACH -]

Well. Words very clearly fail.

She hisses again and jumps ahead over a fallen tree. As most of her mind is taken up with being furious at Howl, she makes the leap with automatic ease, landing neatly on the other side before turning around to add, [Besides, this was rather poorly thought-out! Who ever heard of a cat and a dog walking together voluntarily?]

If they were home, she'd likely be Not Talking to him right now. But they're not at home - and angry as she is, it's more important that they both get home safely.

He's patient and analytical.

Of course he is; he's both a philosopher and an Aquarius. Not to mention a dog.

A big one.

[Perhaps you didn't see those soldiers approaching because you were so busy arguing with me. What would you have me do, Sophie: admit I was wrong? That I shouldn't have been doing my utmost to keep you out of harm's way? That's rubbish and we both know it, and cats and dogs can be great friends. I had both growing up; they got on swimmingly.]

She can't get away with that.

Her anger, he knows, is valid. It's justified. But if Sophie has one shortcoming, it's not seeing the forest for the trees. [Here we are in Strangia, and our little oak grove is about to be surrounded by soldiers. Should we sit here and be used for target practice, or get our arses out of here before they set up camp? I'm not particularly keen on getting shot at today. You?]

He's still on a mission from the king; he still has information to ferret out.

Ferret: now there's a concept.

[There's no call for rude language as well.]

She's got lots more to say to him, but he's right in one thing: this isn't the time. Sophie slinks lower in the grass and peers ahead towards the opening of the grove, trying to distinguish the green of the Strangian uniform through the slightly darker green of the oak leaves.

[All right - where do you suggest we go? It won't do any good to run without a direction. Or a destination. What exactly are we meant to be finding out, anyways?]

[You'd like to know everything, cariad. First, we make our way to that abandoned stone building. Even if the Strangian soldiers use that for target practice, we'll be safe inside. And then I'll tell you everything. I promise.]

Because he's a protective prospective husband, he nudges her in the correct direction and watches through dog-sight -- different from human, different from feline -- as she slinks her way through the tall grass to the hut. One ear cocked, he listens to the sound of the approaching soldiers: laughing, talking, and if Sophie thought his language was rude (it wasn't), she should hear this lot. Still, there's nothing to be heard that furthers his mission; he'll take Sophie out of here at the earliest opportunity.

This really is no place for her.

Once she's safely inside the building -- it's really just a ramshackle stone hut -- he trots over, apparently without a concern. Dogs shouldn't appear concerned, after all.

[Now. You want to know why we're here.]

It's really simple enough, but the circumstances of two countries about to be at war make it more difficult than it ought to be.

[Strangia's set to attack Ingary; we know that. What we don't know is when or how. The king sent me here to find those two specific pieces of information and once we know them, we're free to return. Since this is the most heavily guarded stronghold furthest to the south, I'm starting here. If the soldiers plan to go by foot, they'll likely amass here. And if not, we'll simply have to try to infiltrate the ranks and find out whatever plans there are.]

At least that was his original idea, and it should have worked quite nicely. His replica of a Strangian officer's uniform was spot-on. He worked hard at that, too.

Sophie listens, head tilted slightly, and watches the dog across from her through slit-pupiled eyes (and how odd it is to see through them, and so close to the ground! When she gets back, she thinks, she'll have to send notes of apology to Prince Justin and Wizard Suliman. She'd never appreciated just what they had to deal with, when they were in dog-shape.)

[If not? We may not know whether they will or won't amass here until it's too late - wouldn't it be far better to start by actively trying to find out what we need to know?]

She rises off her haunches and paces back and forth across the packed earth, whiskers twitching as she thinks.

[Shouldn't we be able to find some way to hear what's going on in the officer's tents? It's the officers who'll know the real plans, after all, not the common soldiers.]

That was the general idea.

[It's why I was wearing an officer's uniform when you found me, my brilliant and precocious bride-to-be. Do you suppose you'd ever forgive me if I went back to that and you stayed in this form? I'd keep you safe and close at hand.]

She'll never forgive him anyway, but it's certainly worth asking.

No one can glare like a cat; Sophie's current glare makes it fairly clear that such a plan of action would not meet with her approval.

(Well, it's not as if Sophie is well-versed in the different kinds of uniforms worn by members of the Strangian military.)

[And you think nobody will notice an extra officer wandering around that nobody knows?]

[One thing I have learned in my hours here is that this is an army in flux; they're reassigning people left and right. It's worth a try, unless you'd rather eavesdrop in form.]

There is more than one reason he chose a dog; while it's true that dogs can chase cats very successfully, it's also true that soldiers like dogs. They talk in front of them. They might or might not accord the same easy familiarity to a cat.

But that gives him an idea. [You know, we could split up. Walk the perimeter, each of us, and meet back here in an hour's time and report on what we've discovered.]

This plan has potential: it will both keep Sophie busy and should she be the one to uncover information, give her something about which she can say I told you so, Howl! in her crankiest cat voice.

Cats, at least, are smaller and better at sneaking than dogs - at least, dogs the size that Howl has chosen to be.

Sophie gives him a suspicious look all the same. She'd meant what she said, about wanting to keep an eye on him, and she's not entirely sure she trusts him not to sneak off to do something terribly dangerous while she's industriously wandering through the campsite.

On the other hand, he can hardly leave her trapped in cat-shape while he dashes off, can he? Even Howl isn't that slithery.

[I suppose,] she says, with grudging assent, and then pauses.

[How are we to know when an hour's passed? A cat can't keep a pocket-watch.]

How contrary she is!

[We'll have to do our best guess, cariad. I'll tell you what: make the circuit then come back here and I'll do the same. If there are conversations of interest, you stay put and if you're not back when I get here, I'll find you?]

He can't conjure up a kitty-sized wristwatch and even if he could, it would be ridiculous. But...

[At the risk of incurring further wrath, I could put a warming spell on you that lasts an hour, and when it wears off you'll know it's time to come back.]

It would be easier if she'd let him switch back to human form; he'd carry her with him.

Actually, it would be easier if she'd stayed at home. However, this is Sophie, and he knew exactly what she was like when he proposed marriage.

[That's sensible,] Sophie allows, holding her head up with haughty feline dignity.

[And, as you asked, and it does make sense, I'm perfectly all right with it.] If her emphasis is a little heavy, well - she feels it's a point that ought to be emphasized.

[As long as you remember to do the same for yourself - I'm counting on you, Howl. I want your word. I'm not having come all the way here just to lose you again.]

She's doing her best to have the sternness entirely cover up her fright - because any way you look at this, it's dangerous.

And more so for Howl than for her. Wizard Howl is a major player, a known power and enemy of Strangia. Witch Hatter is barely a piece on the board - and here, that's an asset.

[On myself first, then.]

The only problem is to do this, he has to be a human; he shifts back quickly and before Sophie can say a word, casts the spell on himself first, as promised, and then on Sophie and as soon as that's done, he falls to the ground as a dog again.

A very warm dog, in fact.

It's a good spell; they'll know when the hour's done.

[Right, then. You take the south and I'll take the north.] There's a method to his madness; should anything happen, Sophie will be able to escape back to Ingary more readily from the southern position.

There's just one more thing.

[Should anything go wrong, make your way back home to Kingsbury, and to Wizard Suliman. He'll be able to recognize you as under a spell and break it for you.]

He's not expecting problems. But in a war zone, anything's possible.

Sophie gives him a narrow glance, but nods before slipping off towards the exit on her assigned path.

She doesn't have to try too hard not to think about the complexities of four legs. After all, she's got something else to focus on - and that is the fact that Howl can say whatever he likes, but the fact of the matter is that she's not leaving him behind anywhere.

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