#i think fjord likes disguise self-ing into people with long hair

[demenior]

I kinda missed wip wednesday so have some more of this scene i'm still working on.

Good owners provide their dogs with lots of enrichment

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Jester’s horrible Xhorhasian accent returns, and she pretends to notice the pin in Eadwulf’s collar, “oh! Wait, I know this one. You’re Tusktooth’s Hound, aren’t you?”

Eadwulf can’t hide his grin, “you won’t get anything from me.”

“We’ll see about that,” and Jester turns to Fjord now, “he says he won’t talk.”

That is another one of Fjord’s prompts. He grips Eadwulf by the chin, craning his head back to expose his throat and observes the man like he’s looking at livestock.

“Not much use for a quiet spy,” Fjord muses, putting on what he thinks is a generic Xhorhasian accent, “but I suppose this one is nice to look at. We could make use of him after all. I hear Tusktooth makes other use of him.”

Eadwulf’s breath hitches. He makes only a small effort to try and pull away.

“I do like my toys,” Jester agrees.

Between the two of them Eadwulf groans with a notable full-body shudder.

When he does speak, his voice is breathy, “I can— I’ll do anything. I have to get back to them. My— my Masters. They’ll wonder where I’ve gone.”

Jester shares a wink with Fjord, out of Eadwulf’s sight.

She yanks on the lapels of Eadwulf’s coat to pull him from Fjord’s grip, and get his attention, “show us what you do for your Masters. And if you’re good enough, we might let you live.”

Jester extends a hand, and Fjord takes it to help her stand up. She keeps her face serene but her grip is tight and her ankles wobble in her tall shoes.

“We don’t have to bother with these disguises any longer,” she announces.

That’s another cue from her long list of notes. Fjord snaps his fingers and slips into another appearance. In the spirit of things, he’s keeping his features the same, but hiding his tusks behind the illusion. With darkened skin and pale hair twisted into a braid over his shoulder, he thinks he could pass for a Drow.

Jester casts the same spell on herself. Her skin becomes darker, and her hair black. Those appear to be the only changes.

“To the bed,” she orders Eadwulf.

He snaps to attention, scrambling to his feet.

Jester’s grip on Fjord tightens as she steadies herself, and she shoves Eadwulf with the toe of her shoe. He hits the ground.

“Dogs don’t walk,” Jester announces, “they crawl.”