The struggle was real.  

Only fought her most of the way but much to his dismay no matter how hard he tried he could not get past her or her Great reach with such powerful wings to cage him whenever he tried to bolt.  Even now, as Aislinn leads him down a dark and narrow, stone-walled path he wants to fight her - to turn away. It becomes clearer and clearer (as clear as Aislinn's crystal-blue eyes) that he is not from around here (or Delumine even, when was the last time he was 'home'?) - or anywhere familiar enough to even try and remotely find common ground.  

 "What madness is this!  Why must I see a King?  Are we not free?"  His ideas are feral, a noble busker by day and a terrible fink by night, he lives for himself as he always has and it has never been a problem until now.  The idea of being captured and sentenced for living lawlessly seems awfully daunting and it only takes one swift shove from Aislinn to have Stephan laughing at him about it as well.

Such a fool.  Stephan cackles madly in the middle of Only's racing thoughts and it only furthers the paranoia that the black stallion starts to feel.  Only twists and turns against her but a thick beam of feathers cuff him against the chest and push him forward.  The warrior who walks him to justice can only smile her tempestuous smile.  You wicked woman, he wants to say but holds his tongue.  There is something about Aislinn that Only hates to appreciate.  

Is it the bunches of hair she holds in elegant grips and gathers of flowers, baubles, and jewels?  Does it remind him of all the lightning storms he slept under a lifetime ago or does it remind him of buttercream girls with beehives for heads? Something that he cannot quite put his knife on. And Lavinia too, something beneath the quiet calm in both of their faces leave him on edge - as if they know something he doesn't know.  He feels like an intruder, an outcast in the worst kind of way.  The unwanted kind of way.

The joke's on him because that is the truth and he hasn't figured it out quite yet.

"I will go back to the river, please just let me go.  I don't even know where I am - please.  I'll tell you anything you want - anything, just let me go."  He pleads and pleads the way weasels do when they swindle their squirrely neighbors out of their winter caches knowing they'll die without them.  The stone walls feel like they are closing in on him with how tall they are - in a way this kind of darkness makes him feel hopeless enough to want Stephan to save him.  He gives Aislinn as much of a hard time as he possibly can before she brings him to doors that are big in a way that makes him think about dragons.  He would think about his old friend Henry if he wasn't so distracted by how Aislinn's eyes glitter electric and bright in the dark.  

"Please I - I just thought about doing it - I didn't actually mean to take their knives.  Haven't your thoughts come to life yet?  I have seen it in others.  I don't know how to control it."  Lies, lies, lies-lies-lies, all he can do is lie.  All he can do is give lousy excuses.  His golden feet dance nervously as he spins and tries his best to avoid the door.  Only is agile even in the crook of her reach.  It takes two - three of these Night-creatures to coral him off until he has no choice but to go forward.  Out of desperation, a sweep of his long blonde tail flicks out wildly as the very last bits of him struggle to stay on the other side of the door.

"I want my phone call!"  Only calls out into the night but his odd request surely falls upon deaf ears for the phrase as foreign as the dawn-court thief is in this bat country.

@Lavinia @Reichenbach @Morrígan @Kasil  @Aislinn

@Florentine - if you'd like to represent him/if a representative is needed for trial!  

( ooc: I hope you don't mind the struggle he puts up!  He would inflict no damage nor be successful because Aislinn could probably bend him in half.  I would not mind him being exiled, marked for this, or imprisoned for this for however long you deem fit - feel free to peep at me if you have any questions!  No maiming or death penalties please!)

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He has nothing to say.  Not yet.  Reichenbach stands like a judge before him and oddly enough Only feels calm in front of him.  The Night King is a someone and not a something as he originally thought and so, he tries to appeal to him like the stranger he is with honesty.  Reichenbach's presence is a cooling relief compared to the firestorm that brought him in.

The trick to being a good thief is never getting caught.

A trick to never getting caught is to never be suspected in the first place.

The trick to never being suspected - well, Only cannot give away every secret he keeps inside of that dark black brain of his. He accepts that they think he is doltish and unwise.   Quietly he listens, eyes discreetly taking inventory while the allegations start stacking up against him.  Between Aislinn and Lavinia's pleas, the voice that belongs to Stephan quiets down knowing now that Only has become successful here - but how? 

Later, reassures Stephan, his voice one of great Reasoning in situations like this.
I'll explain everything later, he says.  

Only keeps a cool look but he cannot help but wonder when Dawn will show up to represent him.  Maybe they won't - he hasn't been home since the day he arrived and he has been wandering farther and farther away from it.  Now here he is, caught in the clutches of the farthest reaches in Novus.  And my oh my! -- how they hold him in a pair of proverbial handcuffs.  Still, despite all of that which goes against him here in this moment, Only cannot help but think about how rich he can get off of the jewelry that Reichenbach's ears are laden with.



He stole from her in plain sight; in the middle of a crowded square,
-he knew exactly what he was doing, my King.  



Aislinn's plea is solid, he has nothing to go against her with, and Lavinia's words echo in his mind as he tries to find his voice.  Lavinia raises a good question - should he be able to go free?  There are so many lies he could use - so many excuses he can make to get out of this - but why?  He decides to speak up at long last lest he hold his tongue forever.  

"If your aim is to imprison me then I declare my rights to be represented by Florentine of the Dusk Court -- Delumine and I are complete strangers."  Only not knowing his own court well-enough to trust them is a shameless admission, although on the inside he wonders if that will hurt him more in the end by having no loyalties except to those who are personal friends of his.  He shifts his weight uncomfortably off of his charred foot - he'll be limping for days but he refuses to let the pain show through the clarity he tries to maintain while addressing his jury. 

But now, for his plea - and he prepares for it to fall upon deaf ears.

"I chose thieves and assassins because everywhere else I have gone it has been .." he hangs on what he is about to say as if considering the weight of his words against the crime he has committed ".. not very challenging."  Only lifts his head and bravely meets the Night King's steady gaze with one of his own despite how hard it is to look the man in the face after making such a loud fuss in the halls not long ago.  If he was courageous enough to knowingly enter Denocte with the intent to filch off of an unbeknownst Crow, then he could certainly be brave enough to look into the eyes of a man who would ultimately decide his fate.

"I could have buried those knives in your kidneys while I had them in my control - and I didn't.  I consider - that - a right choice. "  Only turns and affixes a very sober golden-eyed look upon Lavinia. He does not hate her nor does he find her anger or distrust in him to be misdirected either.  He knows he deserves it - now if only he could find the compassion to truly apologize to her but even he thinks that words are meaningless right now. 

"You can have my knife, if you want, but technically it isn't mine either and we'd both be stealing.  But fair is fair and where I come from, I owe it to you to take my belongings."  Someone else's blade slips from the looms of his golden hair which has kept it safe and out of sight this whole time.  It clatters loudly against the stone floor at his front feet and he makes no attempts to pick it up.  At most, a pale touch of telekinesis sends it away from him and to Lavinia's feet where it sparkles in guilty-golden silence. 

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