illithidnapped | INBOX II

The sudden appearance of the mournful, scrabbling wolf startles Wags, who bursts into a flurry of barks. He springs backward. There's a lot to investigate now, but thankfully for Astarion, he's far more interested in the very large black dog, that cranes herself toward him around the leg of the yelling man, sniffing tentatively.

To his credit, Wags holds still long enough to be sniffed. Then he leaps toward her, bounding, ready for play. He's trying to initiate a game of chase, dipping into a bow on his front paws, nipping at his new friend's paws in encouragement.

He does not answer the call of his owner. Even when she tries again, in stilted Orlesian, to command him to heel.

"Sorry-" Abby is panting a little by the time she catches up, both hands on her hips. Would her dad be happy to know that she's still putting those tracking lessons to good use even if he knew she was using them primarily on finding her unruly dog... "He gave me the slip. Wags. Seriously!"

A glance at Astarion and the way he's holding himself, prompts, "Oh fuck, he didn't bite you did he?"

"Miraculously, no."

Snitty thing that he is, he doesn't realize that the only misbehaving creature present...is him.

But he's closer to her, now. More than he'd like to admit— more than he'll likely tell her, too. And so with nothing more than a fussy little huff Astarion relaxes, grip loosening around now-crushed parcels. Eugh.

"Is that drooling little thing yours?"

Asked as he gestures towards the pup bounding happily at the front paws of a massive wolf that— oh. Oh she's retreating. Cowering and yelping and trying to hide behind either Astarion or Abby (or both), body almost slithering across the ground like a snake.

If they're not careful, she's going to topple them both.

"Yeah," Abby breathes, non-plussed. Maybe it says something about her as an owner that she doesn't rush to Wags' defense but she's not gonna boo Astarion, he's right–

She nearly trips over the wolf when she takes a step forward.

"Wagner." At least the full name always makes him look, "She doesn't wanna play, buddy. C'mere–"

God she is trying so hard not to laugh because she knows it'll encourage the puppy, but it is taking all of her willpower. He's getting big, but Abby is still strong enough that she can scoop him up easily, muddy paws and all, and hold him to her chest. Just for a moment, just to get him out from underfoot.

She rubs his back to calm him down. His tongue lolls out of his mouth. "Are you bullying this horrible man and his dog? Huh?"

A horrible man and his horrible 'dog'? Yes. Bullying? No.

Sweet and eager as Wags is (and so much smaller than all three other parties present), there might be something to the general notion that pets are a reflection of their owners, considering the way Astarion and Ataashi both sort of cant their heads in silent contemplation, watching Abby lift the pup into her arms.

The vampire stays put, clutching his ruined spoils even as his expression softens.

Ataashi, however, cranes her very tall neck and begins snuffling at Wagner's back— whatever part of it she can reach while he's in his keeper's hold.

"Horrible?" He puffs, brow line dropping sharply before, "That's the best compliment I've heard all day."

Aren't you sweet, Abby.

"I thought mabari only imprinted on great warriors. Who in the Realms did you manage to steal this one from?"

Abby, grinning, holds the puppy out above Ataashi for her to sniff at his dangling paws. Might be safer this way? She doesn't think the wolf will try to eat him or anything, but if Wags was annoying enough (something that would not be a problem for him), well...

Yeahhhh

"He's Orlesian," Abby explains, "So that's probably why." Har har, "I got him a couple months ago, a guy in Kirkwall sold him to me."

I.e she got him honestly? And didn't steal him? That was you, thanks. Wags was even puppier, then. He's gained a bit of height already, and has the physique of a fucking barrel. Solid little guy. "I had a dog back home, sorta. My faction owned heaps of them, and we got to take them out in the field with us all the time. It's really nice having one around again."

"Hm."

Orlesian, and yet purchased in Kirkwall of all places. If it weren't for the influx of refugees and the inevitable back and forth in the wake of Val Chevin, Astarion might suggest her dog might not be anything but swindled.

But he supposes the odds of legitimacy— all the above considered— aren't nil: she might actually have a very respectable mabari on (or in, hah) her hands. One that's now being subjected to Ataashi's curiosity, her confidence swelling now that he's not moving a mile a minute: lifting herself onto her hind paws (and putting one forepaw on Abby's arm) to snuffle ever closer, giant ears perked upright as her tail stays low.

And neither Fenris nor Ellie are here to tell her not to.

Astarion, pet owner that he isn't, simply keeps talking. "I suppose the Rifts don't like to bring pets through along with us."

That's what he assumes happened, anyway. That she'd had her faithful Leggy or Armmy at her side (Ellie, Abby— they're very double-consonant-plus-eey-sound centric names), right up until Thedas snatched her away.

The problem with Wags is that he truly refuses to stay still or held for very long. Abruptly he twists in Abby's arms, being difficult. She tries to hold him out of range of kicking at her body as she drops him back down onto his feet with a dismayed cluck.

Oh well. At least he's holding still again for now, to eagerly sniff Ataashi back.

Abby, watching him, rolls her eyes. "Guess not. But that's probably a good thing."

Otherwise the Gallows would be... much more crowded. Hang on, the way he worded that. "Did you have one back home? Are wolves your thing?" She sounds vaguely offended. Wolves are Abby's thing.

INBOX II

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