Tyrian hummed contentedly to himself as he walked. He held in his mouth a rope which was a common enough occurrence that its presence barely registered to him. For months now he'd hauled home various creatures this way and filled his menagerie with all sorts of hoofed mammals. This one was no ordinary animal, however. At the end of this rope was Fireside's newest captive and Tyrian's first same species purchase: Erystotle.

Perhaps he should have felt odd about purchasing a member of his species, but he didn't. He was simply filling a need in his pack. They needed cheap labor who didn't mind poor working conditions, rations or sleeping under the stars and what better way to make sure he got no complaints over the conditions than purchasing the labor force?

The low value he placed on the captive aside, Tyrian had some questions. He adjusted his grip on the rope so he could speak, then said, "Satisfy my curiosity, would ya. How did you get here?" He jiggled the rope for emphasis. "Lemme guess, brown lady with claws leaped out of some bushes?"

Guilt filled the young wolf’s belly, for as long as he lived the curse had followed him and now he had changed hands once more. The blue marked beauty couldn’t help but glance up at his new captor as he led him along at the end of a rope, his anxiety clawed at him to tell this man about the curse, about how much misfortune this trade would truly bring to him. Mismatched ears were plastered to his skull and his tail tucked between his legs as he walked with Tyrian.

He didn’t speak until spoken to however, he’d long descended into himself. His fur a pale comparison to the luxurious pelt he’d once had. His horns, now nearly as long as his ears, were dry and cracked. His eyes drooped and held purple circles beneath that had nothing to do with his odd coloration. Erys assumed Tyrian spoke about his captiveness.

”No, no brown lady.” He said softly, his voice hoarse with disuse. ”I’m cursed. I was sent into the ocean when I was born, my adopted mother was killed saving me, Pyrrhic took me in and the volcano happened. I should have told him sooner, he should have just killed me when he had the chance…” He hadn’t said that many words in many moons. His gaze averted from his new captor as he silently prayed he might have more strength to finally rid him from the world. ”Everyone I’ve met suffers. I just..” he turned his silvery gaze back to Tyr, ”They should have told you.” He was damaged goods.

Tyrian slid to a halt as his captive explained the reason for his captivity. He canted his head to the side and shot a quizzical look back at Erystotle. After a beat his eyebrows came together and he smirked, the amused and sardonic expression easily conveying his disbelief. "That's some bullshit," he said with a dismissive chuckle. "I mean, not the hardship part, that I believe. The curse. There ain't no such thing otherwise sworn enemies would be dropping dead left and right. I mean, do you really think something this," he waved a paw up and down in front of Erystotle as if getting the measure of him, "Small can pack enough of a punch to make a mountain blow up? Nah."

He laughed again and shook his head. "I wish they'd have told me too - I'd have hammed it up and gotten a better deal, made it seem like I was doing them a favor taking a curse away." Tyrian sighed wistfully and then started homeward again. "But alas, that money's spent." It really was a shame. He would have relished a chance to put his acting chops to good use. Maybe came up with his own counter voodoo and offered them a spiritual cleansing. "You just forget all that woefully fairy tale garbage. Now your lot's herding sheep and shoveling non-cursed shit."