Booker shivered, curling up into a ball, most of his strength sapped by whatever ungodly disease Louie had imparted onto him. The further the symptoms progressed, the less of his body he could move, and already his back legs had begun to freeze, paralysis kicking in. Still, he struggled to keep his eye open, alert, one ear pitched forward. The Merrymen had dropped him near the entrance to the tunnel leading to Orion, and dimly, past the bright spots that danced before his eyes, the numbat could see the softly glowing stars of the ruins. It made him sigh, breath catching on the motion, and he rolled to one side, retching, adding to the steadily growing pile of sick nearby. It was beyond frustrating, to see freedom so close, to be bound by nothing but his own weakness, the only thing preventing him from leaving - but then, that wasn't quite true. After all, they had his Bonded, his brother, and Booker would much rather go through this pain than have his family exposed to the same.

Inching away from the puddle of vomit, Booker winced at the drag of pebbles across his stomach, trying to get into any sort of comfortable position, before finally giving up with a heavy thump, resting his chin on a paw, exhaustion threatening to rob him of his precious consciousness. Determined to stay awake, he bit down at his own leg, the shock of pain forcing his brain into wakefulness once more. Satisfied, the tiny Gembound, sweat-matted fur blowing in the hot, dry wind, began to hum. It was weak and soft, but soothing, as if it was some sort of lullaby. And, indeed, it was - though he only thought the words, both for himself and for his brother, who had gone through so much, who didn't deserve to go through this, especially not to be tied to Booker in a way that let him feel the pain as keenly as his own.

A gen-tle breeze from Hushabye Mountain,
Softly blows o'er Lulla-by bay,
It fills the sails of boats that're waitin',
Waiting, to sail your worries away...
A cough, an aborted flip of his stomach, and the scribe continued, mouthing the words as he sang in his mind as the red-tinted fog came rolling in once more.

It isn't f-far... to Hush-a-bye Mount'n,
An' your boat... waits down by the key,
The winds of night, so soft-ly are sighin',
Soon they will fly your troubles to sea...

@Azazel

[ I'm going to assume that this takes place after Natural Selection, where he discovers that Fang has plans for him. ]

The Bone King wasn't quite sure what emotions surged through his mind and heart. Anger pulsed in him, blinding his sense of judgement. The thief... she deserved punishment. She had spied on and stolen from others; lied to and hurt others. Azazel never had paid much mind to The Merrymen, and he wished he had now... regret coursing through his head. He should have listened and gave them half the mind he had. Now, it seemed they were coming. The Ave had no idea what The Merrymen were like. Who they were, what they were. Were they monsters? Or were they as merry as their name suggested? The thief had spied and discovered who among them were threats. Now, The Bone King would do the same. Reconnaissance.

It may have been more worthwhile to get someone much smaller and more lithe to attempt to spy on the group, but he wasn't exactly sure about the Bonebound as spies. Giggle reeked of carrion, which would immediately alert others, Krakarak was not a very stealthy creature, Kerberos was a ton of mass of cuteness and fluff. So on, and so forth. Azazel had taken a bath specifically for this occasion, so he was perfectly clean and pristine. He made sure to stay out of carrion and bones, and hang out with some rocks so he acquired their musty odor. A mask. Now, he would need to remain within the shade and hope that this band did not have a bird or any that could reach the apex of the cave.

Azazel rested upon a high-up ledge, making sure to choose one that was without light and without a passage to it, so he may hide. His rusty feathers blended in someone, but not quite enough. If he was seen, game over. He simply lay down and observed from the cover of darkness, using his sharp vision to take a close look at everything. There was not a lot to see. Maybe he'd have to move elsewhere for the better. He had spread his wings and was ready to take off, but he noticed something moving. Something small. For a moment, he had jumped, thinking it was the mongoose and not risking discovery, but it was instead a creature plagued with an horrific disease. It was so small... so fragile.

He could not resist. His heart of gold for those younger than he was his downfall. Azazel would die to protect newer life.

So he glided down, watching carefully from the shadows as he did so, landing with an audible click of talons and he bowed down curiously, then with concern. This small thing... it was humming a song. It looked like it could barely move. As he listened, the critter seemed to be a boy. Who would bring this upon an innocent child like this? Likely the Merrymen. Azazel found no threat in him. Why would he? It didn't look like he would be one to belong in the group... from what he had seen so far. Finally, he willed up his courage and voiced his concern.

"Are you... okay? What are you doing here with the Merrymen?"

@Booker

"Baratheon Speech"

This whole situation was hurting him. Not physically but his spirit. To be caught, to be tamed. It was something that he hated immensely. He was a dragon, not a thing to be captured and prodded to do other's bidding. Especially not a slimy half-face. Him and his whole disgusting lot! That stinking skunk, that skulking mongoose, that irritating monster, and that... that traitor of a dog! Smoke steamed from his nostrils as he lay in a neighboring tunnel. He hated being in Monoceros. Hated it so much because it reminded him of his captivity. However, he couldn't just get up and leave... Not without Book and Louie had hurt Booker irreparably. They couldn't leave without sentencing him to death... He was stuck.... forever... and what was more he would be forced to hurt... Hurt Giggle... He didn't want to hurt her. She had helped him and he was the closest thing to a mother-figure that he had ever had. He wanted to warn her but he couldn't. He was stuck in Monoceros hunting rats and stray deer.

A wash of hopelessness washed over him. When a dragon didn't have anger what did he have? Pity... fear of the future... longing to be free... A moan of anguish ripped from his throat. He was upset at Louie, could feel the hatred burning his gut but when he was all alone like this without even Booker for company the pity crept in. His head lowered to the ground, eyes staring out at empty space. He could feel Booker in Monoceros, feel what he was going through but what could he do to help? Nothing. He knew not the cure for whatever disease Louie had thrown into him. He knew no one that could help... And what was more Booker seemed find with the damned half-face. How could he be growing attached when it was his fault that they were in this situation? He didn't understand... didn't approve... it made him feel all the more worse.

He sighed, pink smoke curling from betwixt his lips. His eyes closed and he turned inwards, trying to glean some sort of comfort from inside. It wasn't much but he felt the melody of his brother's song. It was comforting... It made him want to sail away from his body and into the void. Booker believed that they would join again with the All Mother but he did not. Once he sailed away, he would forever be gone into the dark abyss of death.

He wasn't even afraid...

He wasn't anything until he saw something new from Booker's side. Some sort of large bird. It was new, different... A threat? Nowadays anything was a threat! He would love to take the plunge but he still had Booker, they weren't completely gone yet... It was close but not quite there. His brother needed him and he would be there through hell or high water. He'd force himself if he had to. Even if his spirit wasn't there his body would be.

The dragon rose to his paws and let out a trumpeting roar. Baratheon is coming! It said.

He charged straight up the tunnel and right into the heart of Monoceros. There Booker laid on the ground with some sort of bird hassling him. He didn't recognize him for a Merrymen member but that didn't mean it wasn't true. He was a threat as far as he was concerned and he would be dealt with. Baratheon let out another roar and leaped, landing right behind the bird.

From the force of his landing the ground gave an audible shaking, a powerful tremor that would no doubt throw off the other's sense of balance. His pink eyes glared down at the vulture while his teeth were bared in a terrible snarl. "YOU HAD BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR BEING HERE! I HAVE A GOOD MIND TO TAKE YOU AS MY NEXT MEAL, STINKBIRD!" He didn't appreciate others messing with his brother.

Booker's ears twitched at the sound of talons clacking on stone, fur shivering when a shadow fell over him. Too tired to do anything else, he slowly peeled open his intact eye, only able to make out the blurry figure of something rather large, with... wings? Regardless, the scribe merely watched as the creature bent down to inspect him, exhausted and empty. The fowl's words, however, perked him up a bit - was he really not a member of the Merrymen? Had the Mother sent him a savior after all, had he suffered enough for his penance? Clearing his throat with a rattling cough, Booker slowly answered, though his words were faint and scratchy. "Not... okay," he started, offering the other Gembound a rather woozy grin, as if to say what can ya do? "Got... tak'n... by f-fox. Did some-thin' to me," the numbat managed to rasp out, before his voice gave in to the dryness of his throat and the weakness of his lungs.

And not a moment too late, as a loud, defensive roar ripped through the air. Considering the amount of trust he placed in his brother, Booker didn't even flinch, merely turning his head a bit to the side in anticipation of the dragon's arrival. Blinking as Baratheon did, indeed, come bounding to his aid, stopping just behind the bird and snarling viciously, the scribe waved a twitching paw, eye wide, trying to stop the fight before it again. "Bara! H-he could h-help us. 'e's not one of them." A glance towards the bird, and a shrug. "'least, I don't think 'e is."

Turning inward for a moment, Booker focused on the bond he shared with the dragon, still intact despite the huge amount of damage it had maintained, focusing on sending his calm, his trust, his love through it, hoping to calm Baratheon down enough to at least hold off on eating the bird before he stated his case.

@Azazel

The poor numbat was crippled... perhaps even paralyzed. At the mention of a fox, Azazel clicked his beak. He never had really liked Louie... was it the same fox that this Gembound spoke of? The Bone King went to reassure him, but then something that scared the absolute shit out of Azazel happened. A trumpeting roar came towards him, and the earth shook. It couldn't be geothermal activity, right? The caves did not possess much of that, did it? In his lifespan, he had yet to experience any earthquakes. It was something else.

And then came a great white blob. A great white furred dragon. Azazel nearly shit himself, his feathers on edge and he skittered back quickly, stuttering out random apologies and fearful words. "I wasn't hurting anyone, I'm sorry for being here, I know I shouldn't be here. Bones." Then the dragon jumped over him, and he scampered away again, flapping his wings wildly and hiding behind a rock, barely peeping above it. His way was blocked now. He did not intend to be eaten today... and that was what the dragon was yelling out. Throwing his wings in the air as surrender, he said. "I was spying. I'm not a Merrymen member, I promise!" He was absolutely panicking right now, and even as the numbat spoke, he still vibrated from fear. "I'm from the Bonebound. The Bone King actually. I came to spy... try to find out something about the Merrymen. It did not occur to Azazel once that maybe he was being played and would be captured. He was freaking out too much. He never had been frozen in fear before. Why now? He was terrified. "I can help you... and him."

@Baratheon @Booker

"Baratheon Speech"

His appearance obviously scared the bird to death and he felt a bit of satisfaction. No matter how discontent he actually was he would always be able to scare the feathers off of anyone who dared oppose him. The bird's first words were empty in his ears, mere sounds that he didn't care about. He roared, and stepped closer. Then, more sounds but these were ones that he actually cared about. He looked at Booker, ears pricked as he listened and considered the words. Not of the Merrymen? He considered this and peered down at the bird with eyes that still glared.

He listened to the panicked words for a moment before grunting and snaking his head down to Aza'zel's level. His head turned to the side so he could examine him with one glowering pink eye. "How can you help us, small one?" His voice was not but a growl as he addressed the bird. He was honestly curious though. Was this an enemy then? If he was spying?

@Booker @Azazel

Staring up at the bird, Booker hid a giggle behind a paw at the older Gembound's reaction to his brother. Baratheon was big, and could, of course, be rather frightening, but it was hard to feel that fear when your soul was bonded to the guy. Inching a bit closer to the dragon, the tiny creature watched as Azazel stumbled to explain himself, almost feeling bad for the bird... but not really. Booker didn't have much energy to feel poorly for anyone but Baratheon. Y'know, I don't think he's a Merryman, Bara. He's way too spooked. The numbat watched as the bird practically jumped out of his skin, darting behind a boulder.

"The Bone King?" Booker's tone was incredulous, a wary eyebrow raised, considering the bird. He looked a bit too large and flashy to be a spy, but honestly, the scribe was beyond caring. If the King was a Merryman, well, they were already doomed. If he wasn't, he might just be able to help. "I believe ya. 'bout the not bein' a Merryman part. Not to sure about the king part," the numbat finally mumbled, ears flicking to catch Baratheon's words. "How can ya h-help? We're pretty dess-pear-at," he grunted, coughing out a laugh.

@Azazel