Mr Wares meets his Little Rabbit

Alva_Coinin starts to wake with a soft murmur, slightly dazed from having fainted, shifting slightly where she'd been laid as she starts to come back to her senses, not sure how long she'd been under... Warmth, and blankets? She started to try rouse, only to feel fur, backed by a massive bulk, brush against her face, realizing she's cozied to the side of, something... Breath catching in her throat, heart starting to race as she goes still, the girl tries to process this and figure out if moving would potentially endanger her...

Mr_Wares may simply be lounging. He may be reading. He may be sleeping himself. From her current position, all she can tell is that it's warm and soft and dark against that body, interrupted by perhaps the most simple of organic sounds, a low burbling. Followed by that bulk shifting, rolling aside, presenting lamplight to her bleary eyes from the rafters far above, a moment to dazzle her senses and bring her back to full waking. "Ah." rumbles a voice at both by her side and coming from above. "That's where Omen put you." Which would no doubt draw the eyes up that bulk, to folded lower arms, to starry bat wings extending from shoulders, glowing white eyes. If Omen was a pretty little gryphon, THIS is a massive bat monster.

Alva_Coinin gives a slight wince as the lamplight seems near-blinding to her for a few moments, one hand coming up to shield her face out of instinct, those ice-blue eyes slowly wandering up his form, and as she adjusted to the light, they go from a soft squint to a fearful wideness as she sees just what she's laying against... Or, who? A darting of the eyes shows her taking in her position behind the counter, a soft swallow as she realizes that, it's where the one keeping shop would be... Is, this Mr Wares..? "P-pardon, s-sir..? I-I was brought here b-by a Mr Omen, s-sir, a-and I-I, s-seemed to h-have fainted..."

Mr_Wares takes his eyes off Alva as if it were the most normal thing in the world, one of his secondary arms scratching something down in a ledger for a moment before closing the book. Then with a rumbling squish of bellyflesh that rolls against her, the impressive bat-taur half curls around the future rabbit in his pillows and blankets, that great U-shape of a couch that taurs do best. Lowering his upper half so she can see those glowing eyes, those twitching ears. "Yes, my little gryphon often brings home treasures. He mentioned he'd left you sleeping, but I'll have to talk to him about where he put you." The smile is... sincere but, toothily terrifying for a second. "I may have been resting on you."

Alva_Coinin swallows again, doing her best to keep herself from tremoring at the looming chiropteran beast as she pushes herself upright as well, albeit shakily, given her underfed state. There's, a slight expression of confusion at the mention of 'treasures', and she glances about in her bundle anxiously, before seeing it tucked just at the edge of the back of the counter within reach, so she retrieves that and pulls it into her lap, unwrapping it... "I-I'm, not sure anything I have would count as treasures, sir..." In that threadbare shawl is, a collection of small odds and ends that she'd managed to scrounge before being turfed out at the end of her sentence; a few Foxfire Candle Stubs, some shards of Glim and Rostygold rings, and a couple scraps of Silk... And, singular in apparent value, a sterling locket with simple filigree on the front, and an engraved dedication on the back. "I, w-was hopin' that some of this might be enough to get me enough to find me room and board, until I can find some position somewhere..."

Mr_Wares remains eeriely silent and almost perfectly still the moment her attention drifts from him, to seek out her odds and ends and fish through her threadbare belongings to try and offer him something. She doesn't get to see the look on that chiropteran face at her anxiousness, at the limited 'funds' she has with her, a situation any Neather would have been familiar with back in their begnining - albeit, perhaps not as scant as her. The Master once known as Mr Lamington may have been a creature of austerity and melancholy, but he wasn't a monster. There's a distant thump - his long tail against the cushions and the floor beneath, before those grabby lower arms have her by the wrists, and basically 'force' her to wrap her shawl back up and keep her meagre valuables within. This may in turn draw her to look at him again as he fans the starry wings over his shoulders, partially blotting the lanternlight out from them both. For a moment, there is nothing but her and him, those white glowing eyes seemingly deep and abyssal and... his voice is almost a growling purr, commanding, yet at the same time... not, for example, a gaoler's brutal voice. "These things you shall have, at no cost to my new treasure."

Alva_Coinin's breath catches with a squeak as those clasping hands close over her wrists, the waifish young woman unable to suppress the frightened quiver that courses through her form, before Wares carefully makes her bundle those scant possessions back into her shawl... She does look up, her wintry-blue eyes wide as she gazes up at that starry canopy of wingleather, and tentatively meets that starlit-white of his glowing gaze, her heart in her throat, fluttering against her breastbone like a frightened bird against its cage. It, takes a moment for his words to sink in, relief and skittish concern warring in her expression. "M-me, s-sir..? I..." She trailed off, worried of what might be expected of her as a treasure, yet almost more frightened of the prospect of angering him... The glowing gaze, the chiropteran nature... She was starting to piece together the fragmented whispers she'd heard in her time in New Newgate, of what lay under the layered robes of the Masters... Each of whom bore a name pertaining to their particular trade... Has, she somehow ended up directly under the purview of one of them..?

Mr_Wares does bundle up everything, everything but her locket which he curls about in one of his fingers, chain and all, clearly understanding to be of important to her. Of value. Sentimental. One might even call it a glimpse at one of the Bazaar's favourite things: love. "You." he rumbles like the clouds in the sky. There is nowhere for Alva to run, nowhere to scramble, as his immense tauric body forms a beautiful curve through the cushions... and where the body stops, that long fluffy tail twitches almost like a cat's with prehensile interest. "Ah, but where are my manners." And the domineering, ominous cloud sensation seems to pass for the moment. His eyes crinkle slightly and his muzzle forms an approximation of a smile as he clips the locket around her neck while she sits there frozen. His face hovering inches from her own as he bends rather unnaturally, and shows no discomfort. "Welcome to my Emporium, little treasure..." A wing expanding outward in the grandoise gesture of a shopkeeper, before dropping the bombshell she's putting together. "... and I would ask you to introduce yourself. I, for instance, am Mr Wares."

Alva_Coinin's eyes could hardly get any wider as her heartbeat races at a breakneck speed with that introduction is made, a hand going to her locket unconsciously, clasping at it as her frail form shuddered against his flank, not quite cowering, but not far from it... He was. She was in the presence of one of those strange beings which now ruled this fallen city, and he now claimed, possession of her, ownership? Breath coming in shallow pants, she bowed her head, tearing her eyes away as she realized she was staring, her already pallid complexion taking on an almost ashen tone as she blanched. "I-I'm Alva, s-sir... A-Alva C-Coinin..." What did this mean for her? What does being his 'treasure' mean..? There was a couple moments of quiet stammering, before she managed to find her tongue. "W-what... W-what expectations w-would you have of me, s-sir..?"

Mr_Wares would by lying if some part of him wasn't savouring this. Maybe it was part of the process that turned one into a Master after so long. That immortality detachment, despite Wares retaining a lot more of his humanity than most would expect. "To follow instructions, to seek valuables. Omen will help refine you so you're aware of what I...." The purring rumble in his throat is impossible to miss. "...desire." Before those lower forearms lift her little satchel of scraps and valuables and tuck them onto a nearby shelf, out of the public eye. "But right now, my treasured little rabbit, I must give you what you need, so that you may give me what -I- need." Those forelimbs and wings spread as he... investigates her. It is impartial at best, but poor trembling Alva just might go into shock as he essentially garners her measurements with featherlight touches, the size of her waist, the sunken look of the unfed about her face.

Alva_Coinin's breath catches once more, but she's unresisting to the Curator's investigating her form... Under the somewhat slack style of dress she wore, it's clear her proportions are that of an adult, for all her diminutive height, it's clear she's missed far more meals than she's needed, her ribs clear to feel even under the calico fabric of her dress, and only thin cords of muscle layered under the porcelain skin of her limbs... She was trembling like a leaf under his touch, but she didn't fight, nor try and pull away from his touch, letting him shift her pose as needed for his purposes... Not quite as pliable as a lifesized doll might be, but it seemed despite her fright, she seemed to not want to upset her new... Patron, perhaps? She was hesitant to think master, as the idea of being a mere possession was, frightening... But, that was potentially her role now, given his calling her his treasure... Eyes still downcast, her breathing quick and shallow as her measure was taken by Mr Wares, unsure as to what the end goal of this examination was...

Mr_Wares is... at once both intimate and impersonal. There is no lust, no desire in his motions, but nor do they stop at measuring the threadbared clothes. Two hands examine her from head to two, and even the long wing-figners of those starry wings help to prop her up and support her. He is examining her from head to toe, inside and out - by which he very gently pries her trembling jaw open to even examine her teeth. Granted, there are probably far more magical methods to pull this off, but she's going to have to, uh, get used to his touch. "Like gold leaf, you crumble under the slightest examination. A treasure with no weight, but potential for great value." he murmurs to himself more than to her. "First, you must feed. Then, my little rabbit, we shall see about your costume." And before she can say anything, he bundles her into an arm-cradle with his lower arms and swings his starry wings around her to obscure her, and leaves the front rooms of his emporium. He will have business with this girl, but not out here in the open. Perhaps another time, perhaps later. Perhaps in Parabola, where time has no meaning and he can convince her of her beauty.