[h3]Ranch House[/h3]

It took a moment for Dawn to adjust to the new burden of Drake’s weight, given their...rather prominent size difference, but she managed, gripping the hand around her shoulders with one of her arm, and wrapping the other around the other’s body, doing her best to serve as a support for him to lean on. [color=#2d50ff]“I got you,”[/color] she murmured, shifting a little where she stood. Dawn hesitated at Drake’s hushed question, averting her gaze for a moment before nodding ever so slightly. [color=#2d50ff]“I...think so, yes.”[/color] She squeezed Drake’s hand. The full impact was still settling in, weighting her gut like stone. [color=#2d50ff]“If we can get out of the field soon enough, then Clockwork might be able to…”[/color] She trailed off, then came to wince at the sudden screech that passed through her mind.

When it had quieted, she was faced with the sight of a man- a stranger- donning Eld Fen’s outfit. Given how severely the nullification had affected Reith and Drake, it didn’t come as a surprise that such a change had happened, but him suddenly reintroducing himself as “Nicodemus” and practically leaping to join Bellataire did. Her eyes widened, Toby asking the same question that had been on her tongue. What, exactly, had happened?

Before she could mull it over for too long, a wave of unease flit down Dawn’s spine as the man, Bellataire, called out her name. It wasn’t surprising that he knew who she was- he had already called out the names of several others as if they were all just the closest of friends- but it didn’t lessen the impact any less. Especially since she had been hoping she would go unnoticed. Especially since she had little knowledge of what was running through the slaver’s mind. For all she knew, the man was planning to gun both her and Drake down with that tank of his as soon as they stepped off the porch. Or would gun down those who had approached if they [i]didn’t[/i] choose to comply. 

And then there was the nuke, churning the earth viciously enough that the sound was sent echoing across the Ashlands. Dawn’s mouth went dry. She gave Drake another gentle squeeze upon feeling his tremors, quietly hoping that her own shudder went unnoticed by her companion. The pitch that came after was backed by a metaphorical dagger at all of their throats, and a hand of honey. There was little doubt that the approach had worked in the past (if the offer was sincere, of course), but it left a certain bitterness on Dawn’s tongue. Reith was dead, the result of Bellataire’s Gift. And, in the event that she [i]did[/i] agree to the slaver’s terms, Dawn doubted that her job under him would be to mop up the floors or dust the shelves. Her Gift’s uses were ones that she wasn’t particularly keen on exploring any time soon, but if directed by a slaver...

Would Bellataire’s offer allow them all to live in the lap of luxury? Perhaps. He [i]seemed[/i] earnest enough, at least. But would she be able to live with herself if she were to accept?

Dawn swallowed thickly, then raised her voice for Bellataire to hear. [color=#2d50ff]“Well. Mr. Bellataire. Your offer is certainly generous, and I’m sure that-”[/color] 

And then Toby had given his own, curt answer, followed by Hel lunging forward to jam a foot length of bench into the assistant’s arm. And then, seconds after, the masked stranger from earlier called out for them to shield their eyes. To flee inside. Dawn obliged with the first request out of instinct, only to open her eyes to a wall of smoke that cut them off from Bellataire, and from several of their members. She didn’t follow up with the second order, however, instead tightening her jaw to the point of pain. Escape wasn’t an option- not a [i]quick[/i] one, at least. Drake was still incredibly weak, meaning that if there was a need to run, then he and Dawn would likely just lag behind. His wings managing to launch up, curling protectively about them instead of an attempt to flee on their owner's part seemed to show that Drake was aware of that fact, too. And with the grenades the mercenary had thrown, and the wounds inflicted upon the assistant, the odds of retaliation were worryingly high. The screams of Hel from the mist prompted Dawn to make a few steps forward before Spire shot forth, disappearing into the cloud. 

The taste of copper filled her mouth. She had bit into her tongue hard enough to draw blood. Unsure of what else to do, Dawn went to lead Drake back into the house, being as careful as possible to accommodate both of their weights into the movement. While it served meager shelter if Bellataire chose to rain down bullets, or even saunter inside, a fight would be just as difficult to manage as flight in the moment. They needed a plan, and the opportunity to form one was fading fast.