The Beauty of Creatures
A call sometime later between Lanie and Connor Inkz.
"May I help you hunt cryptids for art supplies in exchange for this dog vest? It only seems fair..."
“I don’t like calling it 'cryptid hunting.' I just procure special art supplies from their bodies. If they can survive, I prefer that. I am a maker of life I only take it when necessary.”
"I see. To be honest, I wouldn't help you kill a unicorn or anything--maybe just a vampire or something threatening the public..." Would she really help him kill a vampire, knowing Theo was one? Or would she help them too? But some cannot be helped, like the ones she came across on a much earlier Contract--or could they? In that instance, Abbas didn't wait to find out. "Wait, what specifically do you procure? Arms and legs? Horns and fur?"
“All of it?”
"... do you heal them after? Do you knock them out while you--" WAIT is this torture?!
“It depends on the species. Unfortunately, I am a pioneer of my craft as not many are even in the field of procuring cryptid parts. Some need to be put down as their base instincts put them on too much of a collision path with humans. I do have the ability to heal the scars created from the procurement if possible. I should consider knocking them out though. I’ll design the next procurement team around that idea.”
"That--yes, that would be more humane. I don't hunt cryptids myself, not at all, but since you gave me this as a gift, let me know if there's something you'd like help going after--or help with something else. While I'm not the best at combat, I can decently defend myself, and I have the advantages a mundane dog would have--speed and a good nose. I can, uh, also hold down things with telekinesis, if you figure out a way to make the, uh, procedure painless or otherwise not horrid for the creature..."
“Uh, I make really good dogs….”
"But you don't make sapient dogs, it sounds like. Dogs who have telekinesis, can sense small vibrations, can heal by licking... I'm sure of that. I'm a Contractor, not just a dog."
“Would it be rude to ask for just a little of your brain? I’ll fix it.”
A long pause over the line. "It would, yes. Very rude. Best not to ask for it." This man is more insane than average--but at least he asked.
“Alright then. If by any chance… hypothetically if you get shot in the head and survive… any chance you’d collect the brain matter? I’ll pay handsomely.” It seems he’s putting too much thought into if he into this.
"Look, Inkz ... I don't want you mind controlling dogs to their detriment. They could die going after cryptids, and based on how casually you left those landsharks behind at Faraday I'm not convinced you're being fully responsible with baseline sentient animals."
rude “Huh?”
"I felt you scratching at my mind when you offered that food."
“I’ll just make more dogs. I can easily repopulate them. Plus, I am expanding the ecosystem with ART the world is better because it’s more beautiful now.” Inkz laughs “I left the Land Sharks because they have a right to live. Would you have preferred their extinction? How was I to know you were a coworker. I will point out you’re a dog.”
"I would have preferred you, the grown adult who created them, relocate them with, like, OWL so that they could be in at least some humane containment safe from hunters and not eating and horrifying the public. Where do your dogs come from, 'dog maker'?" She sounds very professional and neutral now.
“They come from dirt and water.” Conner sounds very matter of fact when saying this “How would making owls help?”
A pause. "You make dogs from mud?"
“Just like the first man, yes.”
"Alright, where did those sharks come from?"
“Dirt and water.”
Well, if he was being honest... "I owe you a partial apology then. I assumed you were taking existing animals and modifying them." Which for some reason felt much worse than making 'animals' from basically scratch. Were they really animals at that point? Also, Lanie is sure that he's using mind control on them. "I do still think you should, like, anonymously donate them to an organization that exists to protect cryptids though--or otherwise figure out how to make sure they don't end up on someone's trophy mantle or wall. The only one I know of is called OWL--O-W-L--I don't remember what it stands for."
“They deserve to be free and not hindered, and I will not as their creator and god will not restrain their free will beyond what the angels and devils tell me are necessary.”
"Are they able to survive in the wild without you?"
“If they don’t then they were a flawed project. Even gods make mistakes; look at humans. You must understand me well since you understand the beauty of creatures. Since you have risked your life to become one. You must understand me more than anyone else... Neanderthals aren’t around and we don’t mourn them.”
"So, from the beginning," Lanie says slowly, "you 'harvest' cryptid creatures and then generate more for others to enjoy--as onlookers and hunters--unless they by some chance happen to be intelligent and adaptive enough to survive modern man going after them. What I wish you had, Inkz, was a separate universe to let them loose in--or one where they could run to for safety from this one. But instead of seeing them as your children, your responsibility, you put these beasts into the world and then wash your hands of them. You use them when they are useful as payment for their existence and then expect them to fend for themselves afterwards. Yes, I understand the beauty of creatures to the point of making myself vulnerable as one of them. And I understand what you're doing. But I don't agree with it."
“By that logic you would disagree with a deity responsible for creation then the Judeo-Christian god has washed his hands thousands of years ago and I certainly don’t see that Elephant guy around Ganesh. I don’t make them for the onlookers or even hunters. I make them because this is what the world always should have been. Whoever created this world did so in a flawed way and I intend to fix it. There isn’t anything to disagree with just like in nature these creatures are ready from birth to grow and thrive. This is the law of nature only a few rare creatures tend to their young that’s mostly humans and other mammals and even then, I am their father not their mother.”
"The Judeo-Christian God washed His hands of almost all of humanity. Yes, I do disagree there too." Connor hears a disdainful dog snort on the other end of the line. And then there is another long moment of silence. "We take different paths, Inkz. But I don't have to like what you do with your creations to be your co-worker in this mass psychosis that we call 'contracting.'"
“That’s great to hear. Though those in our work tend to leave others to their affairs unless invited. Which is what I assumed was proper etiquette.”
"What could I have done other than state my disagreement? I'm just a sapient dog trying to cure the world of Ghoul Fever madness... and keep most of the Contractors I come across safe and alive."
“Ope.”
"My offer to help you hunt a cryptid still stands--if you have a way to not torture it while you collect your 'art supplies.'"
“Yeah, Ghoul Fever, that was a doozy, huh? What, oh yeah, I don’t know. I mostly trade for them now. I don’t do a lot of hunting personally. A lot of my time is taken up repopulating almost extinct species; it’s not much but I can keep them from going fully extinct.”
Now that sounded more noble than making land sharks at least. Although re-populating dragons and unicorns in the modern era is, without a doubt, morally nuanced for Lanie. "Best of luck? I suppose we'll be in touch then, beast maker."
-------
Stopped By
Lanie and Sierra returned from Faraday. A few days later Bu Fang stopped by to drop off some delicious food and a not-so-normal narcolepsy service dog in training. In exchange, he received a powerful pair of cufflinks. During a shared meal, Lanie asked if Bu knew anyone who could create temporary disguises, prompting the chef to reveal his grief over a fallen fellow Contractor and friend.
After Bu leaves, Lanie tries calling Theo again and this time she reaches him. The dogtor learns that his identity has been "stolen" in a highly unusual way: he had been transformed into a monkey (which she had known about months earlier and helped him connect with Akira to get un-transformed), and during that time an actual monkey had been transformed into him. This led to several issues; his assets were frozen and he was deemed legally insane before being admitted to an asylum. To clean up this mess, Lanie calls in a favor from Mel who is a licensed mental health practitioner. Several long conversations with the psychologists in charge later, the legal issues are straightened out, with the "insane Theo" being deemed "not actually Theo."
However, in the process a much bigger issue comes to light which sparks tensions between Lanie and Mel. Namely, the real Theo smells of fresh blood and dirty old woman, which both psychologists immediately pick up. This reveals that the goblin has been feeding on homeless people (although not to their deaths). Moral issues aside, based on the reaction of over half of the institutionalized people in the asylum chanting "Blood father!" Lanie realizes that she had misunderstood where Theo had been sourcing his fresh blood. She also realizes that she had also dismissed something very important. Just as Abbas warned her, the Network member had been inadvertently spreading a weak strain of vampirism among the most vulnerable in society. But what could be done about that now? It's not like the dog could just cure vampirism when far more powerful healers like Terry couldn't and those far more knowledgeable about the occult had zero ideas.
A few days later, Lanie receives several large packages in the mail, the outfits she ordered from Bryan, with a note explaining that something came up that prevented him from making the delivery in person.
-------
Again
Another call to Inkz a few days later. "Hey Inkz ... what would you pay for vampire fangs?"
“$40,000 for a full set.”
"That's too low. And I can get you several sets if you promise me to not make, like, human-consuming animals like the rabbits from Monte Python."
“… you mean again?”
There is a long pause. Isn't this the man who said he's willing to kill cryptids when they're path is too much in opposition to humanity? "You know what, I think I have a different buyer." She's serious.
“Let me know if you find anything else.”
"Sure." Maybe. The call ends.
Lanie then calls Bu Fang who, after asking some questions about the source of the materials, offered alterations or cash to the unknown Network member.
-------
Full of Dog
Several weeks later, Dreamer gets a 'call' from Lanie, advanced notice that she will soon be at the library. From there, two dogs pile into a sedan and make the long 16-hour drive from Salem, IN, to Houston, TX, over the course of two days.
This specific public library is a comfortable, cottage core themed space, decorated with plants and cozy places to read. The ground floor contains a microfilm room and a check-out desk manned by a bored looking teenager. This floor also contains the fiction half of the library--sci-fi, fantasy and the like.
In the early afternoon on a weekday, a fit white woman in her thirties wearing steel-toed boots, black jeans, an untucked wrinkled button-up shirt, and dark sunglasses strides past the automatic doors of the quiet library. In one hand she firmly grips the harness of a service dog (a black German Shepherd). In the other hand she lugs a carry-on size bag, and she also carries a backpack. Thankfully this public space has a small Braille book section, so her presence makes some sense.
The woman proceeds to check out a book (on the proud history of Texas, the Braille translation funded by the state) at the front desk. If anyone is keenly watching her, it is apparent she has decent vision and is a poor actor. However, she isn't accosted.
Upon attempting to check out a book, however, the tired teenager scowls at the screen of the computer as she swipes the card. “I’m so sorry ma’am, but there’s an error with the system. Don’t worry, this happens from time to time, we are just going to need you to take the elevator over her--I mean, sorry, I’ll lead you there.” She gets up and helps direct the woman to the elevator nearby. “Tech help desk will be the door immediately on the left.”
The woman nods before she follows the young lady to the elevator, not asking any questions. She wears an AirPod in one ear, and it is at this point unclear who is leading who--the woman or the dog. "Press the button for the correct floor," she says almost like a command.
Instead, the elevator closes behind you, and instead of going up to the second floor, it starts going down without button input. It descends for a few moments before opening up into a grand rail station turned library, Dreamer sitting nearby and listening to a cassette tape attached to her headphones.
The stacks, and in fact the entire area of the library, appears to be an abandoned rail station, with the the rails ripped out of the center with the paw of a huge beast. Where the rails once were makes up a central hallway, with stairs leading up either side to seas of dark oak bookshelves, separated on genre and alphabetized by subject material. The shelves hold a collection of books, newspapers, scrolls, photos, cassette tapes and all sorts of physical media, specifically curated to the odd tastes of contractors and occultists. Overlooking the area is a massive painting of a black Corvid, darker than the night storm around it, as if it were taking up the skyline.
The woman steps into the space and takes in the details without awe or amusement, like one who expects trouble to be lying in wait right around the corner. Her gaze rests on Dreamer, someone who shares several physical features with her--the more masculine build and clothing, freckles, dark hair, and pretty eyes (although hers are light blue, not grey). She nods, lets go of the dog harness, and then unzips the luggage bag while it is still upright, freeing the white fluffy dog from her carrying case. The dog is holding a metal pen in its mouth. Lanie promptly hops out and does a full-body shake, briefly creating an aura of shed fur in the process. That was not pleasant.
“Ah welcome Lanie. Thank you for agreeing to meet me here, I know the Texas weather can’t have been great, even this time of year.”
The dog trots over to Dreamer, tail wagging and ears alert. She is within reach of the petting zone but is polite enough to not request it. "That's fine. In this double coat, it's really only the arctic where I'd be fully comfortable. I suppose I could shave though..." but she was saving that for if she got into a fair bout of trouble and needed to look a little different for a while. There's only so much one can change as a dog. Her voice comes from the speaker in her collar like before. Sierra stands there with folded arms beside the other dog, who is seated patiently. Despite her posture, her expression is neutral as looks around a bit more. She doesn't see any cameras.
“Would it be rude if I asked to pet you? I don’t know how you feel about that as you are sapient.”
The curled fluffy tail wags faster now. "No--not rude at all--but thanks for asking!" She is audibly and visibly excited.
Dreamer smiles and pets Lanie on the head, turning to the other human in the room. “Nice to meet you, you can call me Dreamer. And you are?” She asks, extending a hand that is not currently full of dog. The white fluffy dog seems to get lost in the pets.
"Sierra." The woman approaches and the other dog follows her attentively. She shakes Dreamer's hand firmly yet briefly. "I'm Lanie's bodyguard. And this is Knight." She gestures with a tattooed hand towards the black German Shepherd who is now seated and sniffing the air in Dreamer's direction (but not approaching closer).
Lanie leans into the scritches behind her ears, her back leg thumping the ground lightly outside of her control. "Mmhmm... Knight... Knight, um..." She finally pulls away to talking straight. "Like, Night's only partially trained. Part of the process requires you two working together for a bit."
“I understand. This will be fun, won’t it Knight?” She leans down and extends her hand to the dog, palm cupped down.
The black dog looks to Sierra for permission, who nods and says, "Go ahead. You're not mine, you're theirs." Then he sniffs and licks her hand a little, low tail wagging slowly. Lanie is pleased that Dreamer not only highly values animals but also clearly understands of how to interact with dogs. "I can do the rest of the training with you both, or I can arrange for someone else to do it--whatever you'd prefer. Also, the food..."
Sierra sets down her grey JanSport backpack, opens it, and pulls out an insulated lunchbox. Opening that, she pulls out some ice packs and two glass containers of food--one large wad of thick noodles and one large meatball. "Got a fridge down here?"
“I have one, not down here though. I’ll take those off of your hands though.” She will gesture for them. “Thank you for all of this. What can I do for you for doing all of this for me?”
Sierra hands the food containers over, which Knight sniffs at and then licks his chops. However, he stays put and doesn't move closer to the food. "Good boy, Knight," Lanie replies, her own tail wagging. Praise between dogs might be a tad ironic. Lanie proceeds to pant and look at Sierra who fishes some kibble out of her pocket and offers it to the black dog, kneeling and with an open palm. The dog quickly, happily licks it up.
"No need to repay me," Lanie replies. "At the moment, I have nothing to offer you that is equivalent to your supernatural clothing--but maybe I will in the future. And I'm in no need of someone skilled in theft and spying." The dog goes quiet as she proceeds to scratch herself behind the ear with her hind leg. Fur was much itchier than she had originally imagined.
“Well alright then, just let me repay you with this.” She pulls a blue library card from her pocket and extends it Lanie. “It will let you come in at anytime. And let me know if you do end up needing a thief, I’m pretty good at it.”
"I will, thanks!" Lanie proceeds to gobble up the blue library card just like she had done with the grey one in the London hotel room. Taking a seat on the floor in front of Dreamer, the dog says, "There is one more thing I'd like to offer before I go... I've created a network of Contractors who can, anonymously or confidentially, trade their goods and services with each other. I use supernaturally obscured telepathy to stay in touch with them. It uses their phones as a focus, but I don't actually need to know their phone numbers. This is an advantage because it means there is one less bit of personal information I have on them, should I ever be captured and interrogated." The dog snorts lightly at the thought. "Anyways, all of the members have completed an in-person psychological screening with me, which is just, like, a long conversation. This is so that I can try to identify the malicious ones, the ones who would be dangerous to put in touch with my allies and friends. Is this something you might be interested in joining?"
“Hm… I suppose I wouldn’t mind, especially if you put my services into circulation. What would this screening entail?” She asks as she beckons over Knight, petting down his side.
"Just a conversation, should take no more than an hour. Some of the questions may be personal though."
Knight obediently comes closer and then enjoys the pets, seeming to finally relax a bit.
Meanwhile, Sierra fishes a small pouch out of the open backpack and offers it to Dreamer. "Here, you'll need this. Something about constant reinforcement." It holds kibble.
"Close--'consistent reinforcement,'" Lanie corrects, "and only of the positive behaviors." Sierra shrugs.
“Understood, on both fronts. Fortunately, there aren’t other people back here at the moment, just the Coyote. Ask whatever questions you feel necessary.” She takes the bag of kibble.
Ish`ta's ears would flick to the found of people being in the area, they seemingly stayed underneath a well woven, perfectly made quilt, almost like it was made for him. The large nearly two-story tall coyote would be resting a bit; however, the fact that another person, or creature in this case, was down here besides Jessie did interest him. But he'd never show it, even if he'd peek and eye open and look past the quilt.
Sierra's eyes get wide when Dreamer mentions the Coyote, and she looks around for it with pursed lips and a furrowed brow before spotting the massive beast mostly under the blanket in the far corner of the room. Then she just looks surprised. In contrast, Lanie simply sniffs the air in the direction of the coyote. So that's what that smell is. She assumed it was just another dog, which wasn't inaccurate, and that the place hadn't been cleaned in a while (which is why it smelled like a lot of the dog).
The white dog (still holding the pen) turns to Sierra. Still speaking from the collar, Lanie asks, "Would you like to stay down here or roam outside? It’s safe to assume that I'll be fine here." Sierra doesn't look convinced. Glancing again at the massive beast under the quilt, she grabs a random book off of a nearby shelf and posts up in a chair a bit away with her backpack, enough for some social space but still maintaining a clear view of her employer. And a good distance from the coyote. Lanie softly sighs. Well... she literally paid for that. And then she starts to pant, and a few seconds later Dreamer gets a phone call from the telepathic dog.
Dreamer picks up the phone. “Sorry about not mentioning him until now. Ish`ta is a friend, who doubles as in house security, and triples as an excellent story teller. He’s part of the social contract here; I invite you into my home, let you use my resources, and maybe even borrow my collection pieces, and I have a 20ft coyote here to ensure I, and others, don’t get jumped and stolen from. A balance to the safe space.” She smiles, leaning down and resting her head against Knight for a moment, petting him under the chin before straightening back up and looking at Lanie.
Eves dropping on the visitors, as well as of course listening to what they were saying, he could very well see that the new people here were friends of Jessie. At least as much as they could be considered, so he couldn't be a bother to Jessie's company, or end up demanding things again, after all he didn't need much but it wasn't as if he'd be above asking for something just for attention. Again, he'd never admit that, but it was fairly clear. Regardless, on getting up a bit the large beast would stretch somewhat, keeping the quilt around him like it was a cloak, rarely ever moving from it or out of it. They came closer and no sooner couldn't hold back his curiosity, "Jessie, to whom is your visitor? Are they one of the servants you promised?" They asked directly while moving close but keeping some distance, after all every step covered about ten feet.
“No such luck yet, getting the right kind of people who are willing to serve strange forces is tough. This is a friend of mine, Lanie, she’s working as middle ground for a trade and business network for me. Lanie, this is Ish`ta.”
As the coyote makes himself more known, Knight's ears go down and the back of his fur raises. He tenses up but stays put and doesn't bark at the thing. Yet.
Sierra quickly sets down the book and pulls her backpack up onto her lap, hand inside of it. "It's fine, Sierra--relax," Lanie says gently (through her collar). Her tense friend responds by pulling her hand back out of the backpack, emptyhanded. The woman still seems on edge though.
The medium-sized 45 lb. dog holding a pen in its mouth approaches the coyote, tail low and barely wagging, ears alert, looking up. The size difference between the canines is vast. "Good afternoon, Ish'ta. My name is Lanie, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Her tone conveys confidence and professionalism. "I'm glad you're here with Dreamer. Our kind, the ones that accept dangerous jobs offered by powerful unknown forces, can always benefit from the protection a strong ally."
Dreamer puts a comforting hand on Knight, letting him know that the other animal nearby is not a threat.
Ish'ta would nod gently to Jessie, finding it a tad annoying that the promise was not met but he'd forgive her, besides she gave him plenty so far so he didn't mind waiting. To Lanie however he would bend down, laying almost fully on the ground as he'd at least come to eye level with the fellow canine, "Like wise. Hm...You interest me, are you your own or do you belong to another?" HIs phrasing seemed old, but it was easy to understand that he was acting if she was a pet.
Lanie sniffs politely towards Ish'ta before answering, "Legally I cannot be my own, so I hired a bodyguard and am licensed to her now as a pet." She glances back at Sierra, whose vigilant gaze never leaves the dogtor. "And soon I might be licensed to a corporate entity for the greater legal protections that can offer me. Nevertheless, in spirit and in power I am my own person." Whoever Lanie 'belonged to' is ultimately her choice.
Ish'ta took in this information, not fully understanding it but would look back on his knowledge of the human world he would scoff, "The humans are fickle in their use of bureaucracy and red tape. You can speak your mind; you should be given the same rights as others." He groaned, annoyed with the state of the world, but he couldn't control it as such complaining was another deal. "Regardless, it is pleasant to speak with another creature with intelligence." He'd say with a mix of authority and also a tone of vague happiness, however he tried his best not to show it while sniffing Lanie a bit. Looking to Jessie he would then request something of her, "Jessie? The room is becoming mixed in scents, I request more vanilla scented air cans." He was asking for vanilla-scented Febreze.
“This is the last one before I can get to the store again. Anything else I should get while I’m there?” Jesse asks in earnest, not a hint of annoyance in her voice as she begins to sprits down the massive quilt the size of a fumigation tent with a bottle taken from her satchel. “And human bureaucracy is so dull and overly complex, built on outdated systems that themselves were built on greed and prejudice. It’s like trying to fix a building when the foundation is made of cards.”
Ish'ta would contemplate for a moment, he wasn't hungry, all due to Jessie, so he had no taste or wish to indulge in food. Now he indulged in these nice scents, and talking for the most part, "Hm, nothing comes to mind. You may also do so later when you are free." It looked like he was trying not to be rude, after all he had no intention of pulling her away from her friend.
Sniffing the air he clearly enjoyed the smell and seemed very relaxed from it, but would respond to her retort. "I'm sure that one day that will all fall away, and you all will revert to a time when fear of the unknown was what kept humans from believing they were unstoppable."
Lanie cannot help but sneeze several times at the overwhelming scent of vanilla. If Ish'ta had a nose like hers of better, he really liked that particular smell. At least it is a high-quality scent, not the sharp artificial vanilla. For her part, she smelled of dog (inevitably) and faintly of lavender, the mildest dog-friendly shampoo she'd been able to find thus far. Knight smelled of it too and also Sierra (who helped wash him). That and the chemicals associated with a clean car interior. "Perhaps on that day, if I'm still around, I will be safer," the dog replies to the massive coyote. Saliva drips off her pen onto the rug atop the tile floor; holding a metal pen in one's mouth did that. "Until then, I'm doing my best given my circumstances." She pauses for a moment before adding, "You're an excellent storyteller, which means you love hearing stories as well ... but how good are you at keeping secrets?"
Dreamer, before being engulfed in vanilla, smelled of rose conditioner, new book, and faintly of some sort of chemical… something that Lanie cannot quite make out but she's certain she hasn't smelled before.
The Coyote's nose was tempered, able to not be overwhelmed by scents and the like but he did have a level which he knew may just irritate those around him, as such he didn't wish to overdo it when it came to having pleasant scents on his fur and quilt. For those around him he enjoyed everyone’s smells, but he liked vanilla the most. However, as he listened to Lanie his ears would spike up a bit; he did enjoy stories as well as giving them when possible of his past. But secrets were a particularly intriguing thing to him. "A challenge? If so, I can keep many secrets." He spoke with a bit of pride. "What secrets do you wish to share?"
"Everything about myself, which only three others know in full," the dog answers. "The jobs I have taken, the things I have done and seen, and what got me here to this moment." She glances back at Sierra, who knows a little of her story but only in generalizations. The less details the bodyguard knew, the better for both of them. But who could easily interrogate this beast? "Like, it's not much in light of the mysteries of the universe," the multiverse? "But it's not something you've ever heard before... and I'm willing to share it--probably in parts over several days." She seems a bit timid near the end there, unsure of whether her offer is of interest or value to the coyote.
Looking Lanie over he would smile some to her wish to divulge so much information about herself, "Such valuable wisdom you must hold, I do take a liking to learning much about the world and other unique creatures. Given you are so keen as to offer this information so willingly it is only polite to listen and take in everything you wish to offer." He'd pause however before soon adding, "However is there something in return you'd wish? Stories freely given must be returned in some way." It was an odd offer, but it seemed like the Coyote believed if she gave information and knowledge to him, or even just a pleasant story, that he should offer something in return. Very similar to how he treated Jessie whenever she asked him about things he may know, and in return he wished to know what adventures she went on while away.
“It is the way of the Library, Dreamer adds. "Where data is a commodity and secrets are a currency. In fact, I’m attempting to set up a system where people who do as you wish to, pouring all of themselves into a book, good and bad, are rewarded, or protected in a way. The details on that system are still forthcoming.”
Ish'ta's first response causes the seated dog's tail to thump on the floor. She seems to have expected the counteroffer, and she nods to Dreamer's additional explanation. "I'd only like for you, great coyote, to consider being my friend, like, once you know everything about me." At this point, both Sierra and Knight seem more relaxed. Perhaps it’s hard to be scared of a 20 ft talking coyote who really likes the smell of vanilla and stories. And perhaps the consistent body language and tones of the beast, Dreamer, and Lanie have made it clear that this is a safe, casual interaction.
Ish'ta's ego did show a bit at being called 'great,' giving off a proud smile and posture while laying down. Though the idea of 'friendship' was a new thing for him, giving a mixed response from the large coyote. "I can consider you ... amicable, at the very least. For now..." The way he pouted looked like he was going to follow this up with a bashful 'baka!' at the end of that. Yet he would continue, "But I'd be happy to listen, I have all the time in the world, and with a memory that never fades I can recall it all at any time. You may begin when you feel comfortable doing so." The creatures tail gently swaying a bit behind him, it was easy to tell even though he gave off an intimidating presence and aura, he was a little bit of a softie.
Lanie nods. It's a natural gesture for a human but not a dog. "Amicable is fine by me. I'll begin sharing my story once Dreamer is screened... Thank you for being willing to listen." As a psychologist, she understood that listening is a valuable gift.
"Of course." With that Ish'ta would allow them to continue their conversation, only giving a modest nod to Lanie as he'd excuse himself for the time being with out saying a word. He'd go back to the portion of this rail way that he's mostly claimed for himself and would begin to rake his claws against a portion of the tracks made for subways. It looked like he was dulling his claws for some reason or another.
With that the white fluffy Samoyed turns trots back across the space to Dreamer and Knight. She lays down on the rug a few feet away facing the androgynous woman who, in her head, she can't help but refer to as The Librarian.
The dog drops the sopping wet pen, licks her chops, and begins to pant; Dreamer gets another 'call' from Lanie.
Dreamer picks the call back up, transferring it to an earpiece so she doesn’t keep holding her phone in place. “Now for the screening I assume?”
The dog nods as the confidential chat begins. Ish'ta sees only Lanie looking at Dreamer while panting, and Dreamer setting up her earpiece for a moment before looking back at the dog. On the surface, it appears that nothing is being said between them.
"Yes, lets begin. Feel free to ask me questions as well, including my own if you'd like--like, this is a conversation, not an interrogation." Her tail wags lightly for a moment. "Alright, lets begin. What's your goal in going on these jobs? Why do you accept them?"
“Oh that’s… a complicated question. There are things I want to know, and things I can’t explain. I hope these jobs can bring me answers. I go on them to learn and collect data, and I wish to keep learning until I die.” She knocks on the wooden shelf.
The dog nods. "That makes sense then that you'd want a library to store your information. Is there anything specific you're hoping to know and explain that you'd like to share?"
She tilts her head, expression unchanging, and gestures with her hand at the horizon encompassing, darker than black, featureless corvid she has painted on the ceiling. It feels like in a way you would never be able to tell the difference if it was omnipotent and watching your every move, or just omnipresent and you were too small for it to even process.
“When I was young, the raven would haunt a set of reoccurring nightmares I had, but each one had a sliver of prophecy. I managed to banish it, but it started coming back, more aggressive prophecies after my cancer gained notable side effects.”
She pulls a leather-bound notebook from her pocket, begins to draw in it, and proceeds. “My theory is that there is something stuck in the fog, the threshold of worlds, that has inexplicably managed to find itself a conduit in this world; me. I want to find out the who, the what, and the why. Oh, and the how, as in how do I do it?” She gives a small smile.
Admittingly, being so close to the floor made Lanie much less aware of what was high above her. She follows Dreamer's hand motion and finally notices the art on the ceiling. Internally, she can't quite decide if being watched over by the bird is comforting or disconcerting. Then she continues to listen quietly. In the past, before the Contracts, she might have considered a raven in someone's dreams an indicator of their sub-conscious attempting to communicate with their conscious. Now, Lanie considered both that and the alternative that Dreamer suggested; someone or something from another realm could be reaching out to the woman.
"That makes sense." It did, one way or another. "I hope you find the answers you're looking for," the dog affirms. If her telepathy wasn't so limited, she might have been able to help. "What would you say your personal or, like, moral limits are on these jobs? In other words, what lines have you tried hard not to cross--regardless of whether you did or not?"
“I hate putting good people in bad positions. It goes beyond killing, such as I would never pickpocket a woman with a baby, I always go for those wearing gold, or who are too busy shouting profanities at women to notice their trucks being stolen.”
The dog nods. "I understand, that makes sense." Well, sometimes it was hard to tell who really was a good person and who really was a bad person at first glance, without any supernatural powers, but it was nice to hear that the self-proclaimed thief attempted to apply a moral lens to her 'work.' "For the next question... what is your biggest regret, like maybe something you did wrong or you didn't do but you now wish you did on one of these jobs?" With her keen subsonic hearing, Lanie listens for Dreamer's heart rate.
“I’ve… mmm… killed some people, sacrificed is the correct word, I think. I entered an agreement with him,” she nods to where the coyote slumbers “to bring him food once a month in exchange for the lives of myself, a teammate and…” she counts in her head “a little less than two dozen other sapients. The problem is, he can only draw nutrients normally through consumption of the fresh corpses of sapient beings… and I figured if I could stall and control his intake, controlled who he ate to the sleaziest fuckers around, I would be doing good in the world until I could find a more permanent solution. That’s two deaths that I feel bad about, but ultimately was the lowest I could manage under the circumstances." She seems rather upset by this, but is being completely honest about it, but does that even matter to the dog gauging the purity of her heart?
Lanie perks up, looking visibly surprised. 'I've killed some people' felt like quite a contrast with 'it goes beyond killing'. "That sounds like a difficult situation," she replies as her ears go back for a moment and with no hint of judgement in her voice--only empathy and professional neutrality. Two deaths over how long of a period of time? And how many more would there be? But those questions weren't nearly as important as this one: "How do you know, like, who the 'sleaziest fuckers' are?"
“Well, I’m not going to act like I could wheel in a couple billionaires to the middle of nowhere to feed them to a two-story coyote. But I have my ways. Truckers were the mark of choice, due to the nature of the location. Then it was process of elimination when it came to casing them, checking for Sons stickers, getting into their trucks while they were off in the bathroom, checking for anything that could help make the decision.”
She pauses for a moment, steadying her breath before continuing. “Started with their phones, not too many were actively locked. Looked at contacts and recent calls to check for family or people who would miss them. Then a thorough search of the cabins. When you find trophies, such as, say, a bag of IDs from women less than thirty, some bloodied, I know I have my mark. I don’t like doing it. But I can be good at it if I need to. It’s like… are you familiar with the trolley problem?”
"Very," Lanie answers, even tone never changing. To some Dreamer would be considered a hero; to others, a serial killer. Would Lanie have done the same in her shoes? Probably, if Bu Fang couldn't magically manifest something that could sustain the creature. "I have just one more question related to this topic--thank you for sharing." One more she is willing to ask, that is. "Do you bring Ish'ta to them or do you bring them to him here?"
“Ah see, I didn’t clarify well enough. My days of luring truckers to Ish’ta are done. I figured out, after the sacrifices, how to weave dreams into items to the point where any food consumed in the dreams will actually sustain you. After I managed that, I offered a new deal to him; the quilt, and a place to stay, free of hunters and full of stories and people to meet, and in exchange I get his help, and his company.”
Ish'ta looked to be resting, eyes closed, body relaxed, like he was sleeping or just enjoying a nice nap as per usual. He was like a big cat, and only active when he felt like it- however in this case he wasn't fully sleeping, and as they were silent for a while, he wondered why everything was so quiet. He had great hearing, supernaturally so, and it almost made him worried that something was going on, after all he could hear the few patrons upstairs, the birds outside, a gentle wind chime, even the light breathing Jessie and Lanie had as well as her companions. But he disregarded it soon after and just laid there like nothing was the matter.
Lanie sighs in visible relief. Her tail thumps on the carpet a bit. "Excellent. I'm glad to hear that his needs are being met and that you're no longer in a situation where you have to do that." She had been considering something rather dark, helping the endeavor in a small way if she could stomach it, but such thoughts were now irrelevant. "About how many of these jobs, these 'missions,' have you been on, and what do you think about your coworkers?"
After skimming the nearby selection and re-taking her seat, Sierra seems to be engrossed in a book on the history of drugs and alcohol in occult remedies. She hasn't looked up in a while, perhaps trusting that if some dognapper randomly showed up they'd have bitten off much more than they could chew. Knight finally lays down, harness still on. Noticing his shift in position, Lanie's eyes glow silver and the harness also glows a faint silver as straps and buckles (both seen and unseen) are undone and then the harness floats off. It is set down a few feet away so that the black dog can be more comfortable. In response, Knight does a full body shake and then settles down on the floor beside his new master.
“That’s the question isn’t it. They’ve ranged from extremely competent to active liabilities. In fact, out of the seven jobs I was given, I had to bail on two of them due to lack of backup, either because my teammates died or were arrested. And that’s not counting the number of which I kept going while down part of my team. The third one I failed at was a combination of my incompetence and that of the person giving us the details. She gave us a vague objective, so I stole the thing I saw that closely matched 'you will know it when I see it' without looking for anything else that it could be. Frustrating.”
As Dreamer describes her Contracting struggles, she hears soft affirming mhm. Lanie is familiar with the taste of failed jobs due to her teammates and her own mistakes. "But you survived each time, and you're still going at it in pursuit of your ambition. You're tenacious, Dreamer."
"Last question now. Is there anything else you think I should know about you? For example, do you know if you're wanted or Illuminated? Is there something you'd always want your teammates to know at the start of a job--or maybe just your inner circle of friends?"
“Not wanted, not Illuminated. For now. I plan on pulling a bit of a Carmen San Diego down the road but for now I’m on the low down. Aside from the narcolepsy, the pseudonym, and the Library, I guess there’s really two things.”
She pulls the tape recorder from her pocket. “One: I’m always recording while on the job. I’ll give you the option to opt your name out of them, but the records are important. Two: I’m always available to steal something from anyone who needs it. For a price of course, though things that I deem… necessary, will be cheaper for the person hiring me. I’ll make the difference elsewhere.”
Lanie nods again. "Big plans then," she replies to the Carmen San Diego bit. She can't help but sniff in the direction of the tape recorder. That's not a smell she comes across often. "I'm glad you have a way to keep the records safe." She glances at the resting coyote. "Many Contractors I've met highly value their privacy, like the one you struck a deal with through me." Abbas, Dominic, Bu, and herself until recently.
"I've asked a lot of questions... do you have any for me? As I said before, this can be a conversation--although you having questions isn't at all required."
“Yes, I have several. But I know where to start. Before you stepped into my library, you knew very little of me. Fair to say, the only thing you knew about me was the fact I was a narcoleptic sneak thief, who happened to own a library. And yet, after the job was said and done, you bartered on my behalf for a dog such as this, and are currently trying to recruit me into your network. I want to know why. Why do you wish to recruit me? At the very least, what were your intentions in doing so before you had gotten down here?”
The dog says simply, "Because our odds of surviving and, beyond that, thriving increase if we form an alliance." There's a pause as Lanie shuts her eyes to focus on organizing her thoughts before looking back at Dreamer again. "I didn't smell blood on you or bleach to remove any evidence of blood. You didn't seem pleased by what happened to those conference attendees." She doesn't remember that gory scene anymore thanks to a friend's help, but she remembers the aftermath. "You did your best that day with the rest of us. That being said, on the job I didn't get the impression of you being malicious--a threat to the general public or a threat to your coworkers without, like, having a good reason. And so, to me that means you're worth helping--and hopefully I am too if a situation comes up where I might need some help. And it means you're worth getting to know a little better, to see how accurate my first impressions were."
“So this comes entirely from a pack mentality, excuse my choice of language. Satisfactory nonetheless.” She sounds a little disappointed, but also relieved at this revelation. “Second question then. What are the current largest efforts of this organization. Is it just a mutual assurance pact, or are things running in the works?”
The dog doesn't seem to mind Dreamer's wording. Her use of the phrase isn't scientifically accurate, but the psychologist understood what the woman is getting at. "There are no large efforts, and it’s not an organization per se. It's more like ... a bicycle wheel with me at the center, making the connections between two people--one offering something and the other wanting it. Sometimes those connections pass through me so that people can maintain anonymity with each other, or sometimes they are both willing to connect with each other directly. The only rules are to make good on whatever you promised and to not betray the other Network members, including myself. That includes backstabbing on the job and turning others in to the authorities without just cause--something I'd have to look into directly as the line there can get blurry. Otherwise... members get out of it what they want and put in what they want with no obligations--while maintaining their privacy if they desire."
“Then three for three, to make the trade complete. I would like permission to search for in the dreamscape. It will just give me a basic overview, your sleep, nightmares, goals, ambitions. Things your dreams would tell me.”
Lanie perks up at the proposal. "Would you be able to find information on the Network members in the dreamscape? Or the details on my family?"
“No, it only works where I can touch. Though I can perform long range reconnaissance on anyone if I know where they slept, or have something they slept with. Though if you’re familiar enough with me, you’ll know you’re being spied on. There’s a tell.”
"Right. Hm," Lanie ponders for a moment. This wouldn't be the first time someone had delved into her mind with her permission--more like the third. Concerning the other thing that Dreamer could do, it felt similar Dominic's pen except it was attached to a person and not an object. And that difference is advantageous. "Sure, you can search for me in the dreamscape. Also, if you're willing, I have a favor to ask of you related to the reconnaissance..."
“Of course. Ask away.” Dreamer says, looking the dog up and down. Her voice, her scent, her face. Her eyes mist over, and Knight seems to perk up but the episode is over in a number of seconds. “I have more questions once you do.”
"I'd like you to spy on me on my request, like, only once, and then pass whatever you learn on to someone I choose. And I'd prefer you share what your 'tell' is so that I'll know you're only spying on me when I've asked you to..." Her ears go down as she's less sure about Dreamer agreeing to the second part.
“And the point of this plan?”
"Reconnaissance for if I get kid--dognapped. It would be helpful to those who'd be working on my extraction."
“Reasonable way to use the ability. Then I accept this request. And the tell is a dark corvid following you. Flies in from one shadow, out the other.”
Lanie nods, ears perking back up and tail thumping briefly. "Thank you." Now she needed to find the right friend for Dreamer to contact, but that could be done later. "What questions do you have?"
“Why can’t you let your hostage free?”
The dog blinks, looking blankly at the woman. That wasn't exactly a goal or ambition--more like a secret. Well, maybe a goal. It did bother her, so perhaps it showed up in her dreamscape. Lanie looks away as she heaves a sigh. "Would you like a concise explanation or a more detailed one?"
“Details tend to be preferred in my line of work.”
"Wumbratainment, or 'Wumbra' for short, is a near-perfect copy of a powerful Contractor--one of us. She is one of many copies that were made over the years as the not-at-all accidental byproduct of a specific job that various teams of Contractors had been sent on. Most killed their clones right after the job ended--which I think is horrible--and some clones killed their originals--also horrible." The news images of Lanie's teammate's mangled bodies briefly distract her as her gaze wanders off.
But then she returns her attention to the Librarian. "Wumbra survived. Realizing the pattern, she proceeded to collect other surviving clones and form am organization dedicated to..." to what? "... uniting and 'liberating' everyone who shared her origin story--so long as they had usefulness to her." Unlike Mel.
"This group was on the down low, staying relatively hidden and slowly gaining members, for a long while... However, my friends and I discovered them when we started tracking down a young girl who had been inexplicably kidnapped from police custody at a police station. This girl was a clone, which is why Wumbra targeted her--and they took her by force against her will. My friends and I ..."
Lanie pauses, trying to cut out the details that she didn't need to share to make the story cohesive yet still accurate. Minerva's privacy would be protected. "... uh, we tracked down the kidnappers to one of their hideouts--but ..." This is the part where Lanie expected to lose Dreamer, if she hadn't lost her already, "... there we rescued the living body of the cloned girl containing the spirit of the group's leader. They, like, got body swapped using a supernatural object." Lanie's voice coming through Dreamer's earbuds goes quiet for a moment as the dog, all this while, continues panting. She catches her breath.
"So, we end up accidentally taking home a girl with the spirit of the clone group's ring leader. After several rounds of, um, forced therapy--because her mind was in complete shambles long before we got her--Wumbra shared her intentions of tirelessly continuing to unite the clones, like, in opposition with their originals--even if it meant future kidnappings of children. Which is something I could not permit. One of my friends wanted to..." the dog's fur bristles up as her ears go flat "... contain her indefinitely under highly inhumane conditions but I offered to Wumbra to instead live with me with greater freedom but under constant supervision--to ensure she wasn't going back to her original task. And she accepted my offer."
"But, to be honest, I don't enjoy living with her and containing her like that. I just don't know what else to do..." Memory wiping might be a solution, now that Lanie is thinking about it from beginning to end. But that felt even less moral than allowing Wumbra to make a (forced) choice of her own free will and in her right mind.
“Sounds like an extremely complex set of circumstances you’ve wound up in. If there is anything I can do to assist, let me know. I don’t know much about much of what you’ve discussed, but, if there’s any resource I have that you need, let me know.”
Lanie visibly relaxes upon seeing and hearing Dreamer's reaction. "Thank you--no, it's settled now thankfully. The missing child was retrieved and is now living as a sister to her original, and Wumbra... is just a horrible roommate, basically." At the moment, the pomski and the two bloodhounds are being watched by dog sitters. But how is the robot sniper doing? Did Lanie really want to know? ... No, no she did not. "But, uh, I seem to have a knack for getting involved in other people's business and helping out where I can ... with their permission of course."
“Relax. I’m a white hat thief, getting involved and helping out, with or without permission is in the job description. I just need to figure out my big score.” She taps her chin a few times, thinking, mulling something over in her mind.
Feeling heard and understood, Lanie waits patiently (as her tail wags some more). Two more things come to her mind as well, but she sets them aside to prioritize wherever Dreamer might want the conversation to go next.
“No, no, go ahead. Just stumped on something. Proceed.”
"Alright... you're now a member of the Network." While Lanie says this with a tone of neutral professionalism, her wagging tail and the glimmer in her dark eyes give away her excitement. "About once a month I'll check in with you and see if you need anything or want to change what you're offering to others. In terms of offers, I'm assuming it's the same services and goods you offered to my friend in exchange for the food and Knight? Oh, on that note, may I have the jacket?"
She pulls out the Chef’s Coat, which, on first glance, seems a little… too plain. But upon closer inspection, the interior is lined with some kind of silk, and the stitching… it’s hard to notice with white on white, but you notice patterns of small birds everywhere on this coat. The tag simply says “Carrion Outfitters”, “wash cold only” and “40% cotton, 20% silk, 24% polyester”.
The neatly folded coat glows silver as Lanie telekinetically picks it up and then walks alongside it, taking it over to Sierra. The bodyguard sets her book aside to grab the nearby thing out of the air, roll it up even more, and then stuff it into her backpack. If it wasn't wrinkled before, it might be now.
The dog trots back to Dreamer. "Thanks. I'm sure my chef friend will put it to good use." A pause. "I have some things I could trade for clothing like this now--and possibly the other type of clothing, the one that nourishes in one's dreams," the voice chuckles, "if we, like, could decide on an article of clothing that, uh, makes sense..." Her voice gets quieter and more serious. "There's some conditions attached to the things though--requests from me, I mean. The first thing I have to offer is a highly compact, totally silent sniper rifle--like, both the shot and the impact are silent. The condition there is that if firing on someone who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, like a guard who's just doing their job, you don't aim to kill--which means you should be decently trained in firearms first. As I know you don't cherish the thought of killing, I'd trust you with it, and the small size might be helpful given your inclinations for stealth. The second item is... well, let’s start with the first. Does the rifle interest you at all?"
On one paw she wanted to keep Shadow Killer forever, but she couldn't nail down a logical reason to. Because she can? That wasn't good enough. Jason regretted his past and was no longer accepting the jobs; he was the last person she'd give it to. Abbas was at a minimum emotionally unstable and for some unknown reason preferred a bow and arrows over modern weapons to take down supernatural beasts. Dominic might have gotten it (she knew he had the training and the non-killer inclination to use it properly), but his firearm needs were met after the Minerva-Mars ordeal. And Lanie certainly couldn't use it. In the hands of someone she trusted, when used with precision, it could prevent a loss of life. So long as...
"Also, I'd request that you not pass it off to anyone else." Also not in Lanie's control, but she is doing the best she can.
“On one hand any situation that needs it will instantly be solved. On the other hand, a situation where I need to kill a man from a mile away and where I will know exactly where he will be in order to set up properly would be… well it would be rare. Especially when my skill with guns isn’t very high to begin with.”
“However, if you aren’t using it and figure it could be of better use elsewhere, we could put it into The Library’s collection and loan it out to the people who need it.”
"Oh?" That's a surprising option. "What is your vision for the Library?"
“My vision? One to two dozen people in here at a time. Some roaming the stacks looking for valuable info, building plans, weaknesses for their monster of the week, the quickest land transport route from Mexico City to Argentina. A few of them are in dotted pairs, swapping whatever scraps of info gathered that could help the other. Some people in here to get the right tool for the job they’re about to undertake. One sharing stories with the coyote. And at the center of it all, you have me, orchestrating different counter moves, filing data, moving tools in and out. Providing a safe haven for those who want to do good in the world under the guise of the shadows.” She then relaxes herself, seeming slightly embarrassed about her rambling manifesto.
Lanie nods. She could envision herself here as a part of that two-dozen crowd, probably chatting with the coyote and watching the rest, looking for future Network members. "It sounds like we both want to bring people together, just in different ways," she affirms. "How will you know that the visitors will keep this space secret? And how will you know that something borrowed will be returned--and used responsibly?"
“I have lawyers. Magic lawyers. They can ensure my things are returned to me. And the secrecy of the space will be enforced by several systems; the cards, Ish’ta, the presence of other contractors, the info I have on everyone. It’s mostly a sort of “well what were you doing at the sacrament” type of thing. Mutually assured destruction.”
Magic lawyers... Lanie shouldn't be surprised. Sounds expensive though. "That makes sense--I'm glad you've thought it through. What's available for rent at the moment?"
“Well currently we have a gun owned by a priest, which has all kinds of features, such as shapeshifting, fighting off demons, and better mob control, but it’s extremely obvious and tends to bring out your more “religious” side. We used to have the pair of gloves that I used the job with you, but they’re in possession of another member at the moment. And, finally, I’m going to add another blanket of shadows, same properties of the chef cloak, once I’ve collected the materials to do so.”
"Sounds like you're getting started then." Lanie takes a moment to scratch her neck with a hind leg before continuing. "I think I have several things to donate to the Library so long as they're loaned out under specific conditions... but I doubt there'll ever be anything for me to borrow. Having four paws and a non-human shape has its limitations." The blanket might be usable, but it’s not like the dog could travel on a job carrying a blanket (just carrying a book for a few minutes was a challenge).
“This is why I do take custom orders. I’m thinking maybe a harness for you if you’d wish. But donations are more than welcome I assure you, and I will ensure that your conditions are met when they are loaned out.”
The dog is very pleased. "Oh, okay, yes, that's a good idea! Here are the things I had in mind to donate: the sniper rifle with the condition that it isn't used to kill people, a two-foot-long ivory rod that pins down whatever's under it into place without crushing it (although the rod itself isn't indestructible), and ... like, three overtly magical bracelets that help you do a whole pile of things--run away from danger, summon a helper, and wield a compactible sword." She pauses, pondering for a moment. "But they should only be used for self-defense, to directly help one's friends or family, or to help the family of the person who made the bracelets." Those conditions aren't foolproof if, say, someone was helping their friends commit murder, but it sort of worked.
“Those are all great. And don’t worry, my library is very secure. Would you like anything in return for all of your donations here?”
Lanie glances at the sleeping coyote. Secure indeed. Even Sierra and Knight seem to have dozed off at this point (it had been a long two-day drive for the bodyguard). "Yes, a dog harness that lets me move quickly but stealthily, like the coat you made. And, if you think it's a worthwhile trade for all of the donations, something else dog clothing-related--maybe the same harness?" Lanie isn't sure if it has to be separate or can be layered "--that allows me to be fed through my dreams."
“I can do both in the same harness.”
"Perfect. We have a deal." With that, the dog stops panting. And proceeds to hurk hack COUGH, the noise waking up Sierra and Knight. Out of Lanie's contracting body and muzzle, covered in saliva and other fluids, comes a small black sniper keychain, landing on the carpet with a soft thud beside the now dry metal pen. Lanie looks at the item that just seemed to have emerged from her stomach blankly for a moment and then up at Dreamer sheepishly, tail down and ears back. "... Er, sorry," she says quietly over the earbuds, looking away. What is extremely functional for her is rather lacking in social gracefulness.
“Don’t worry, it’s easy to clean. Don’t get too worked up over it.” She gently pats Lanie on the head.
The words and the pats instill total peace in the white fluffy dog. "Okay, thanks Dreamer." She moves closer and leans into the seated woman, silently asking for scratches--panting all the while. "Sierra has one bracelet and the ivory rod, which I've named the 'stay stick'. And I'll bring you the other two bracelets in about a week. How long will it take to make the harness?"
“About a week, I should gather enough quills at that point.”
"Quills?" She looks up, head tilted to the side. "Like, raven feathers?"
“Kinda. Occasionally, when I wake up, I’ll find a clear feather, on my face usually. I separate the barbs from it and use them to lace the clothes with patterns. That’s what makes them special.”
"Interesting." It certainly seems like something from somewhere else is trying to get Dreamer's attention. "Oh, I almost forgot, is there anything that you want or need from the Network at the moment?"
“It’s not urgent… but The Library is always accepting patrons and donations. Also, if you know anyone who has some… useful tools for my line of work, do let me know.”
"Not tools, no...." Jason Valent's tool for hacking came to her mind, but she hadn't been able to reach him lately. "... but have you considered getting physical or mental alterations--enhancements, I mean--to make you inherently better at your line of work? These kinds of changes can be invisible; I have several myself."
“That would be useful, no denying that. Though what I wouldn’t give for a nifty little grappling hook, smoke bombs, little laser cutter hidden in a tube of lipstick. Regardless, such alterations would come at a steep price I assume?”
Lanie chuckles at the list of items Dreamer years for. "That's for you and the other Member to decide. By the nature of this being a service, I can't be the go-between for you two once a deal is made; you'll need to meet in person at some point. That being said, would you like me to be the middleman--" middledog? "--while you two haggle or just see if they'd like to just call you directly?"
“That would work, or they can always visit me in The Library.”
"Okay, let me reach out--oh, and can you ask Sierra to pour me some water?" All that panting is giving Lanie a dry mouth. The dog then shuts her eyes...
“Sierra, Lanie asked if you could please pour her some water.” Dreamer says aloud as she crosses her legs on the couch.
"Sure." Sierra hops up. She digs a reusable water bottle and collapsible fabric bowl out of the backpack, serving a drink to Lanie, who doesn't react or respond.
