Junkyard Blues

    The canine wasn't alone in his feelings on the enviornment they currently inhabited. Agrabah got cold at night sometimes - nights that were some of the hardest during her tenure as a streetrat - but for the most part it was always blisteringly hot. Going from the oppressive heat of the Arabian desert to this cold, damp castle was an adjustment she still hadn't quite made.

    And though Sadira wasn't an altogether spiritual person, the stark contrast in the energies of the black keep and Agrabah was hard to ignore. Agrabah was dangerous and cutthroat, but it was alive, always. It was rare to see the desert city not bustling with activity from merchants and thieves and guards and sorcerers. And despite being the base of a thriving army, the black keep always felt still, dead. And yes, dreadfully cold.

    She wandered the castle often, trying to get used to the darkness and the cold stone, telling herself she was going to be here for the foreseeable future so she might as well get comfortable, but her heart still lingered in Agrabah. It made her feel like a fool. Agrabah had never done anything for her. Nobody there had ever given a damn about her, which was probably why leaving was so easy. The young witch had nothing keeping her there. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of home when she thought of it.

    Except you don't have a home.

    The little witch shook that pleasant thought away as quick as it came. Lost in thought as she paced within the walls of the castle, she almost completely missed Buster in his spot on the floor. The darkness of his obsidian fur blended with the dark brick of the castle, but his harsh growl did the job of alerting her to his presence. She stopped, startled momentarily at the unexpected territorial declaration.

    She took in the canine's presence, her aquamarine eyes softening momentarily at the picture of the lone dog chewing on scraps on the cold floor, but pushed it down when he threatened to make a meal of her. Her sentimentality was liable to get her killed in this place.

    She rolled her eyes, unbothered despite the size of the dog, "Last I checked it's a free castle." Okay that was kind of a lie - Maleficent was more of a dictator than a democratically elected leader and she was definitely the owner of the castle, but it was the principle of the thing. Sadira had too much pride to let herself be cowed by a dog. She didn't know how to do much with her magic, but she was pretty sure she could handle a hungry dog - even without magic she was no slouch. And it's not like she couldn't see where he was coming from anyway - when you stole and scavenged for food you protected what you had with everything in you. Sadira doubted Maleficent was letting her animal soldiers STARVE, but she couldn't exactly put anything past the leader of the Thorns. Maybe the higher ups thought it built character. "Relax, humans don't eat scraps. Your meal is safe." She figured he might be less hostile if he knew she was no threat to his dinner. Or maybe he was just an ass, only time would tell.

    Sadira had never been much of an animal person - the homeless can't exactly care for animals and strays were nothing but competition for food on the streets - but she didn't exactly have anything against them. If nothing else, Buster provided a decent distraction from her own thoughts. Taking her chances, the witch approached cautiously to stand in front of the street dog, a good distance away in case he tried making good on his promise, but close enough that they could engage in conversation. "Doesn't Maleficent feed you guys?" She asked skeptically, the 'you guys' in question referring to the animals of the army. She hadn't thought about how the four-legged half of the army lived, but perhaps she was foolish in her assumption that things were run in largely the same way.

"Last I checked it's a free castle."

Buster groaned, shaking his large head, ears flopping from side to side as he expressed his annoyance at the voice that spoke. A human. Of course. POIFECT. Not only was he shuffling down under the castle where the high and mighty lived with their evil powder puff pets but now a human was speaking directly to him. He shook his head and turned over his shoulder to see a dark skinned female approaching him. He turned fully around as she continued to speak to him.

"Yeah, humans ain't fit fer the streets really, are they?" He sat back on his haunches, head lowered, short slick fur raised on the back of his neck. He wasn't completely hostile, no, but he wasn't NOT hostile either. He sniffed, a grin appearing on his face. But before he could respond he heard a squeaky little voice and spotted a dog, had he been anywhere but in the Thorn's camp, he would have taken down in a second.

She looked just like LADY.

A ripple of a sneer appeared on his lips. This little scrap must have been the daughter of Tramp. Just like Scamp was the son. Did this little girl know who he was? He knew Tramp had 3 girls, which one was this one?

"A real DOG hunts for his food," he said, lowering his head and sneering, answering both Sadira and Collette at the same time, "And a real dog doesn't stay inside. But you wouldn't know nuthin' 'bout that, now wouldja, housepet?"

He wondered whether Collette would be bothered by the nickname like her brother. He looked up at Sadira, eyeballing her.

"You sure don't look like no fancy dress human I ever seen," he woofed, "And what're you doin' down here anyhow?"