It was never difficult to usher the girl from the house, so long as it was at his side. That hesitance hard to ignore as if at times words were not trusted. A fear reflecting behind the way eyes settled or a body shifted just out of his sight. Worrisome habits which no doubt told of her upbringing but no matter what she had endured nothing here would be forced. She could do as she wished whenever she desired to do it. If she wanted to remain home or leave on her own it would always be allowed, however, this day she had agreed to come along.

Delight dancing within the goat’s gaze as he was quick to seize hold of such opportunity to spoil her. There was no better day for a trip to the market for there he could watch the way her own attentions strayed, how it lingered upon cakes or stitched toy. Whatever she wanted she could have. Yet Augustus knew all too well that they needed to talk and held intent to do so as they roamed these cobbled paths. There was certainty she knew of his coming absence.

Of how he tended to vanish whenever the moon reached its peak. Surely she had pieced it all together even if such words had never left his lips, even if confirmation was never offered to just what he was. To him there was no need… to much gave it away already. The twitch of furred ears, the curvature of horn and fang, all of it decorations upon his crown. All of it enough to give way to the notion that this ‘Mr. August’ as she’d taken to calling him (no matter how he may insist otherwise, no need for the mister) was no human.

Moon phases tracked as if a life depended on it, and in some ways it did, for there was no desire to fall victim to the very beast harbored within his veins. Those whispers of insanity becoming more persistent as the night crept closer. Everything harder to ignore as aggression dared to rear its head upon snarled phrase or lyrics snapping behind too sharp of teeth before rapidly withdrawing. Fingers curling into his own hair, dragging over features to hide away the terror behind his eyes with each shuddered breath. Whispered apologies laced by broken sob as it rattled in his lungs yet always something quickly chased away in hopes of keeping some semblance of composure.

Never wanting to worry or frighten another despite how it ate away at him. So long as he held control there would be no lashing out, not even with a biting tongue. But it never got easier, no matter how many of these forced transformations were endured. Memories still played on repeat as a conscious peered out from the haze. Able to see the way claw and fang may find another in those dreadful nights yet always powerless to stop it. There had been talk of alternatives, something to subdue the madness but risks were high… yet perhaps it would be worth it if it kept others safe.

Yet, no matter what, he needed to tell her all the same. Whether he be lost to madness or the flood of toxins, she needed to know that he would not be around for a time. “Julie,” phrases started yet reluctant to finish as a mind turned over possibilities. How phrasing alone may bring about a different end, “I do not wish to alarm you but.” ‘I’ll be leaving for a few days,’ lyrics he should have uttered though they are not what fall, “we’re getting you a weapon and you will learn how to use it properly.”

One composed of silver.

An offering of pain to mortals yet a promise of an agonizing sear to any supernatural that may come into contact with it whether flesh was pierced or not. Due to her stature and the obvious lack of musculature upon her frame at the time a dagger would be best. Easy to conceal, light weight - though merely a word could change his mind, turn weaponry to whatever she wished… so long as it could keep her safe. “Have you ever wielded a blade?” The question sudden as the soft sincerity of that rosen stare flickered upon her, “That is what I’d recommend for you.”

Markets had always been a foul source of great concernment, of gnawing dread, whether they be in the lesser city of Kaisermont - of which I'd only journied once - or the grand jewel of Vufrien. Odersten was where many a merchant came to make their name or count their unfortunate losses. Between thieving vagrants and starving street-urchins, among honest folk and the more fortunate, there was always one common theme. Currency. Whether it be forged of silver with great political faces or pressed gold with talon marks for freedom, its glisten ruled this place as it did many others. I had never learned its value nor did I learn its worth. What use was money to a stolen forever girl? A girl who could only eat what was given out of charity - out of benevolence? I did not pay for the crumbles of cheese and the sliver of bread. I didn't offer a cent towards the doll's clothes given to me for perverted desires. Money did not sway me as it did so many others. Even under Mr Augusts' tutelage - a man whose wealth exceeded my understanding - I'd yet to learn many things. Becoming comfortable in my surroundings being one of them especially here on the market strip. There was a haunting uncertainty that always accompanied these trips no matter how frequent they became. Would I leave with Mr August, or would I find another Hiram? As if to shield against prying eyes and possibilities, my arms squeezed across my chest. Despite myself, the clasp loosened and so too did my restraint as the alluring pull of sweets and toys beckoned my wayward gaze. Mr August never chided me for looking. For once, I could walk without my eyes being latched to the ground. I could lift my head; I could see the world around me in all of its terrifying splendour. Right now I saw children with their youthful faces brimming with excitement and glee. I saw mothers asking their partners for dresses and glittering things. Things whose nuances were lost upon me. Then I heard my name. A shortened endearment of it, that is. I looked at Mr August, listened to what he said and felt a chill trickle down my back. Why would I need a weapon? I thought of the pigs and the cows hanging from their hooks. I thought of the knife glissading across their throats. I remembered the blood as it poured upon the floor and through the grates that my abuser had installed. Was I supposed to kill someone? My hand shook while it reached out for the back of Mr Augusts' shirt, a measure taken so I did not get swept away by the oncoming crowd. "Have you ever wielded a blade?" I shook my head. "No." The sound raked across my ears, brittle and soft and loathesome. "That is what I'd recommend for you." "Why?" My eyes reflected curiosity, bemusement and confusion that, too, resonated in my voice.

The streets constant chatter lay drowned by his own thoughts, always ignored, placed into the back of his mind as he bid senses not to become too attached despite how they sought to pry. Mannerisms he’d grown used to over the years. Keep focus upon those nearest while all others were left to burn in the murmur of background’s passing phrase. Those which so clearly offered distraction or perhaps a sense of concern to the girl for there was no mistaking the ways her eyes wandered. How sights drifting over not only shop faces but the people - the wolves - who walked these paths at their side.

Observation which brought ears to twitch, to open hearing toward those distance conversations, ensure that none spoke ill or of sickening intent toward one deemed so fragile. A task not kept for long as worries lay soothed in the way fingers threaded against fabrics, an arm offered instead to allow her something of more solidity to grasp. However, as that burning question filled his mind so to did the perfumes of her unease. A near silent sigh all which escaped him at first, lyrics hardly more than a whisper when finally they did rise. “To keep yourself safe when I cannot be around,” or, fates forbid it, against him if escape was denied and a frenzied animal lay locked within the confines of a now shared home.

Such thoughts were things of nightmares. Those he prayed may never find fruition yet it was best to be prepared. Accept the worst my come but strive for the best possibly outcome. However, he could not leave her to flounder without a sense of comfort. Assurance that while weaponry may be held it would not always have to be used, “It will be no different to how I carry my own. No reasons to use them unless it is absolutely needed.” Whether it be against a known threat or nothing more than a stranger, “I would just prefer for you to have an option of defense should circumstance force your hand.”

He looked to her, a sidelong glance as steps found pause, “Do you understand?” Phrases soft yet firm in their conviction. If he had his way this was not optional but too easily he would relent, “We do not have to look at blades first though before we head home it will need to be done.” So she could either get it over with and one would carry it out of sight while other supplies lay gathered. Or it could be a last stop. The goat preferred to get it out the way yet he would defer to the girl’s judgment on this one. After all, it would be something for her whether she desired to wield it or not.

"To keep yourself safe when I cannot be around." He whispers and I feel a sudden panic. Safe from what - from who? Then my body gets cold and I can feel my hands tremble. I see him, a meat hook protruding from where a cold, perverted eye should have been. Blood rains from his face to feed the grates on the floor just like the hogs he butchered. If you try to run, I'll find you, Anna Lee. I'll find you after I burn down the house on maple lane and then I'll burn you, too. But there was more for him to set ablaze this time. I wanted to go home, home with Mr August, home where we would be safe. He continued. It did little to alleviate the gnawing dread feasting on my insecurities but I nodded in understanding. From a young age, an age where little girls shouldn't worry about devils and demons, I knew that this world was plagued with them. Wolves in sheep's clothing - men who appear so generous and kind when they were nothing but fire and soot and evil beneath that concave smile. Then there were men like Mr August. Men who were truly gentle and caring, men whose intentions did not drift into that demoralizing abyss of sinful depravity. He was a light in the otherwise dreary, bleak night that I gravitated to like a moth lured by the flame. I walked at his side with lithe fingers digging deeper, tighter, into the folds of his shirt so I did not lose my way in the amassing crowd. This blade he spoke of. It was like ripping off a bandage; the sooner, the better. "Ok." I'd nearly whisper, a sickening sound. Though I was not keen on the idea of blade shopping, the sooner we could return to the sanctuary of our home, the sooner I'd be at peace. My gaze shifted throughout the various signs of differing colours and bold letters. Some were attractive symbols eluding to their wares while others were the alphabet that I could proudly say that I understood. While Hiram had been wicked in many ways, depriving me of education was not one of them. I wasn't allowed to be like the honking, dumb pig girls that came into his shop. I wouldn't be like them - fat, ugly, and old. "Where do you buy blades?" My innocently curious gaze rose to his face.

The shake of her hands tell what words would not, the way those fingers tighten about the very cloth they’d seized hold of bringing a light frown to cross his lips. Perhaps such a thing should not have been mentioned and yet her safety was priority. It was placed far above his own when it came down to it. If she could be kept from harms way for the rest of eternity he would see it done, however, one was not foolish enough to think he could always remain at her side and he would not become a leech at her side. A wolf’s company would not be something she was made to keep.

She needed to experience freedom whenever it should be desired, she needed that independence but with it she needed to know how to care and fend for herself without the guidance of others. To exhibit self preservation and the willingness to defend a life. Something he had yet to see for himself which made the idea of leaving her on her own a thought sickening to dwell on at times. Worries of the mind couldn’t be helped but they would not rule action. Briefly eyes would close as slow breath escaped his lungs, steadying a mind before that rose tinted stare would turn enough to catch her nod but with it he found unspoken fears.

A perfume worn so brightly despite the agreement she offered upon whispered breath. He hated to force her into anything she was not comfortable with, hated to press boundaries she may not be ready to cross. Yet within his mind this was a necessity. Slowly a hand would rise to rest lightly upon one which grasped clothing, a light pat to the desperate hold of those digits before it would settle in hopeful offer of some untold promise. Nothing would sweep her away so easily and should any dare try it they would have to get through a goat first.

“From a blade smith,” a smile turned his lips, “They focus on perfecting their craft rather than holding a wider focus like some other smiths. If you aren’t picky about quality you go cheap but we want something that will last.” Or rather he wished to grant her such a blade. One that would not falter when she needed it most. She would be protected, she would be safe. If not by his hand then by her own, “I will take you to the one I visit. Milo will be able to add a custom flair if there are any sort of details you would like as decoration upon the handle.”

While he doubted she would care much for extra adornments it would still be mentioned, the option would be there should she think of anything to place upon weaponry. “The blade itself will be made of silver,” there was no choice in the selection of material for it would prove most affective against the night beasts, “Any other details will be left up to you.” Though she would not be left to flounder, assistance would be there should she desire it, “No matter what, I will of course show you how to use it properly. We can start with something less sharp but the weapon itself will be worked up to.” A pause as once more gaze turned to hold her own, “Are you alright with all that?”

There were lots of jobs I used to read about when Hiram would go butcher the pigs or slice up the cows brought to him by the way-yonder farmers.  "Women don't work."  He'd tell me while chewing on a slab of roasted chuck - payment from the tender.  Little girls especially were forbidden from tilling fields or sewing shirts.  Of course, I knew that to be another of his countless lies once I'd finally escaped that studio of horrors.  There was work aplenty for many women, young and old, maiden and crone, but rarely would you find one at a bladesmith. I imagine dainty women and big, boiling vats of metal didn't make for an ideal combination.  I doubted that even Mr August - for all his strength - would be capable of handling that type of work.  As he spoke I listened with keen eyes watching the flow of his lips and the words that came from them.  For a moment, I let myself feel... excited. "Are you alright with all that?"  I  nodded. "A hook."  For the first time, I didn't loathe that sound, my voice, as it reached out with a strange enthusiasm.  It was my confirmation of this forced arrangement.  My free hand moved to imitate the shape of the same type of hook that had lodged itself into Hiram's head.  A meat hook.  "Like this."  Asking eyes looked up at him, nearly pleading.  For the first time since my rescue from the streets, for the first time since I'd had a fully satisfied belly, I longed for something beyond my means.  It felt... wrong, to ask so much, yet I knew that Mr August would find no qualm with it.  He encouraged this; nearly begged that I ask him for anything my little heart desired.  I wondered if it was because Mr August regarded me like his own daughter and not a toy thing like my previous guardian.  "Could I become a mercenary, like you?"  Maybe it was a stupid question.  Were women, girls, even allowed to be mercenaries?

Softened stare lingered upon her, a smile etching its way over his features the moment she offered agreement in those silent mannerisms. Though before attentions could pull away fully a wolf was caught off guard. An expression twisting in unasked question, a crown tilting lightly though the girn which touched his lips refused to falter. Rather it grew alongside the huff of laughter which chased after notable excitement in blurted phrase. It was an unnatural thing to behold but it sounded so sweet. It was nice to hear how it gripped her vocals, how she spoke more than a single word. There had been no hesitance, no delay behind that rising tone. There was only her and he could hardly find complaint in that.

“I’m sure something like that is possible Miss Julie,” such a design was hardly what he held in mind and yet if that is what she desired then he would make it so. Maybe Milo would have more of an idea for it, something better than what currently sprang to Augustus’ own mind. If nothing else it would do no harm to get two items forged. One to fit her whims with another crafted more toward his own vision, something made for forward or sweeping motion rather than a curved puncture. Briefly he thought to ask her of it though before lips could part something more pulls his focus. An askance which draws his gaze wholly to her and brings pause to his step.

While that gnawing worrisome part of his mind would never wish such dangerous work upon her he was hardly one to stop ambition if it bubbled beneath the surface. “If that is what you desire I see no reasons why you could not. However, I will say you’d need to be comfortable dealing with strangers to not only collect contracts but as temporary partners on various assignments.” It all depended on the task given, on the risks placed upon whatever it was an employer hoped to be done. All they did not wish to stain their own hands with for not all tasks they attempted to pedal were exactly legal. Though was such a truth one she needed to know?

No, it wasn’t. Not now anyways.

Besides he was hardly here to dwell on the potentials of work. He was here for her, a promise to be kept. The day would be hers to command after this single task. Yet no longer can a tongue be held as curiosity gets the better of him, “May I ask if there is any particular reason you want a hook?” August had never used such a shape himself, he had never felt drawn to it as focus lay upon the reach of a polearm or that of lengthened blade. Close quarters almost always handled by the puncture of wolven fangs or the harsh slash of talons rather than any crafted weaponry.

I couldn't tell you exactly when it was that I felt this kind of happy.  Maybe it was when I'd first met miss Camellia at the church and the steaming bowl of broth she carried.  Or was it when Mr August first introduced me to our home?  No, nothing could quite compare to the overwhelming joy I'd felt back then.  This was smaller, yet equally as fulfilling.  I couldn't wait to see the type of blade Milo would make for me.  Would there be hooks etched into the handle?  May be engraved on the blade?  I'd seen lots of blades when I had to help with the meat - big blocky blades and thin ones too.  None were quite as lovely as the one Mr August carried, though.  How earnestly I hoped that Milo would make mine just as lovely. What it would be used for, however, would remain to be seen.  As Mr August described his type of work my expression soured.  It was no great secret that I didn't take well to strangers.  The thought of it caused a creeping sense of dread to climb up my throat.  Maybe being a mercenary wouldn't be the type of work I'd be capable of.  I shook my head. Then with one question, I froze.  My feet stilled on the cobble and my hand tightened on his shirt until I was certain that these little nails would cut right through it.  A plethora of emotions scattered across my face ranging from fear and abhorrent terror to the threatening onslaught of tears.  "If you ever tell anyone, I'll find them.  Do you know what I'll do when I find them, Anna Lee?"  The phantom strike scaled across my face.  Over and over and over.  I remembered how my vision began to fade then.  It didn't this time. It didn't because Hiram was dead.  He wouldn't find Mr August.  He couldn't find anyone now. "A hook killed the devil... so I could be free."  My voice was soft and meek and almost invisible once I'd managed to regain some of my former self.  I didn't shake now.  Didn't let the tears fall from my eyes that stared at the blurry path below our feet.

There was no helping the soft huff of laughter which escaped him at the other’s quickly turning expression. Okay, so she wasn’t ready to deal with strangers just yet. This already a matter he was made well aware of. It wasn’t something everyone was comfortable with though perhaps in time she would come to enjoy it at he did. Or at the very least be able to fake interaction long enough to busy herself with some manner of work, a distraction from the seclusion she seemed so drawn to.

However, any wondering over her future came to a swift halt the moment he felt that figure find pause. A heavy presence filling the very air around them as that once gentle grip became forceful, more desperate to remain in its place upon his arm. Unease drew attentions wholly to her as his own paces stilled, a worried panic flooding the senses even before sights could settle upon that terrified frame. Fear wafted from her as if some sickening perfume that teased instincts. It told of a terror stricken beast and yet this was one known, this was one cared for and with it came a sense of responsibility for bringing it all to the surface, to the focus of conversation.

Ears pulled flat against his skill as a haunting dread filled his throat in unspoken regret. It beckoned for that gaze to shift, to pull away from the very being which radiated such palpable discomfort as if those plagued nightmares had found her anew. All from a mere askance. A curiosity the hound should have kept to himself. He should have held his tongue, kept that silent promise not to pry and yet this was not something known. This was not a detail August had been aware of until this very moment. Oh how he hated to behold the way those features twisted in such despair, how the aroma of it tainted the senses and brought a mind to fixate upon it. Even if he had wanted to, the softness of a rose tinted stare could not stray.

It would not turn away from one fretted over and yet he dare not intrude upon her space. While an arm may have wished to reel her in, to hold her close if only for a moment, there is hesitance. A twitch as instinct for comfort is resisted in fear of only frightening her further in these moments. Instead the hand which rested upon her own offers a gentle squeeze before it was the hound’s turn to grow quiet, “I… I am sorry I asked. I did not mean to stir such unpleasant memories to the surface.” And yet such notions likely plagued her long before now, she did not need reminder to stir recollection of past transgressions.

Briefly rosen gaze would turn away as slow breath slipped between lips, they weren’t far from Milo’s shop and yet… upon the next beat a figure turned to face her. A hand releasing her own so that it may tuck carefully beneath her chin in hopes to coax that bleary eyed gaze from the cobbles at her feet, bring it back to meet his own gaze though no matter where her sights rested it would not stop the lyrics which fell. “Miss Julie, I do not claim to know of your past,” such secrets those he would never pry for even as he now wondered if an act of freedom was carried out be her own hand or that of another.

“And know I will never ask you to speak of it if you do not wish, however, I need you to know something. While what I say now may seem a bold proclamation, so long as I live I will not allow history to repeat itself,” the past would not reclaim her. No matter what it had entailed. Something which sparked such terror in her soul could not happen again. Deep down he knew all could not be prevented no matter what he may desire, such thought drawing forth another softened breath as ears finally turned from where they once lay pinned. Eyes fixing upon her own, “No matter the distance, if you ever have a need of me, call and I will answer.” As soon as one could, “I will hear of it one way or another.” Such words were his bond, a promise of loyalty - of protection - whenever it could be offered. Whenever she could not protect herself.

Anna Lee hadn't been allowed to cry.  Crying meant that you were unhappy and you weren't allowed to be because Hiram took such great care of you.  I wished that I could forget him.  I didn't want to remember the way he'd push my tear-soaked cheek into the wood floor and scrape and scrape until it was laden with splinters.  They'd swell overnight and he'd pluck them free in the morning—my punishment for being an ungrateful little girl. I looked up at Mr August with bleary, morose eyes when his hand lured the pert tip of my chin to face him in full.  My iron grip loosened while I warred with this whirlwind of emotions.  Feelings of guilt for worrying my caretaker and causing that sympathetic gleam in the soft hollow of his dark pupils.  A suffocating melancholy for being such a thankless child to the one being who had given me everything and expected nothing in return.  Even his voice was so devastatingly gentle that each note tapped at my little glass heart until I was certain it would shatter.  I wanted so badly to be selfish and let those tears fall.  I knew better.  Lithe digits rose to wipe away the lamenting stream before it could roll from the auburn strands of girlish lashes.  Could he truly keep that oath?  Could he keep away the malicious devils that wanted to pluck children from the streets and show them woefully unspeakable terrors? "Mr August,"  His name was quiet and docile, nearly a whisper from my tongue.  "Thank you." I looked away from him, the train of my vision careening to the bold sign that belonged to the bladesmith, the one that would craft this weapon at the request of Mr August.  Naturally, I was nervous at the idea of handling a blade - I'd never been allowed near sharp things.  Razors, knives.  I trusted my caretaker and knew without a doubt that he'd show me the proper way to wield it so that I could protect myself.  Heavy lungs drew in a deep breath as I attempted to regain my composure, my control, the thin tether that it had become now recoiling into its former steel bar.