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It did not occur to him that Lurks was merely ignorant and somewhat stupid. He interpreted everything that he did as finely-honed mockery, ending in more torment as he steeled himself, terrified that what poured out of the jug would not be water at all. The relief was short-lived. He struggled away, gasping and choking with a fervor disproportionate to what he was enduring, shaken by the too-soon reminder.

"Please stop," he managed, too afraid to be ashamed that he was begging for mercy for something as simple as a dousing, to be ashamed that he was begging for it from a thing like Lurks. Unthinkingly he summoned Fiona to hand, but he was too shellshocked, too immobilized by terror, to make use of her even if he'd been strong enough, which he wasn't. Instead he simply clutched at the hilt until his fingers were white-knuckled.

He closed his eyes, braced for the strike, braced for the pain, and he answered with a straightforwardness that would have flabbergasted America had she been there to witness his sad state: "Yes," he whispered, twitching, jolting, both from the touch of the thing's hands and from the sensation of water dripping down his face. "Yes."

Again the dim, hysterical laugh; again the all-over, violent shivering. The knife vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, displaced by the jug, and Taym drank greedily, no longer caring that it might be poison or worse. He was, to put it simply, being good.

When he finished he put the jug down carefully, gingerly so as not to break it more than it was, and he rooted about in the coats in front of him until he found one to pull over himself like a blanket, still shying away from Lurks' (appropriately) lurking nearness.

"I don't--I'm not a toy," he said, and it was neither defiant nor defeated but pleading. This condescending treatment was the closest thing he'd felt to mercy in days. "I don't--I don't want to be... be kept. I don't--"

He couldn't finish; the thought was too horrible to fit words around. "Please," he whispered, once again too far gone to be ashamed that he was begging the horrific thing. "Please don't let them do whatever it is they're planning to do to me. You can kill me now. Do you want to? Don't you want to, isn't that--isn't that your job, no matter what they tell you?" Unthinkingly, the blade was again in his hands. "Please." And then, since he was making impossible demands and begging for things he would never get from creatures that would show him no kindness, he weakly finished: "Show me how to get out. I want to go home."

Qarah approved of Waits and did not approve of Lurks, it decided. Waits was sensible, and thus, when Waits left with two toys in tow, Qarah left it to its own devices. If Waits felt like asking it for help, he would come and do so, and as long as it was not an unreasonable request, Qarah would assist, it decided.

Lurks was not at all sensible, and Qarah disliked him. Therefore, of course, it set off in search of Lurks, hoping to discover him misbehaving so that it would have an excuse to deliver another pinch. It took its time, peering into rooms and learning the layout of the lair as it went. There were places it would return to later to investigate at its leisure, perhaps with a toy in tow to train. But right now, it had a goal in mind.

It found Lurks crouched near something that looked at first like another of the toys. But this toy had clothed itself. Unless Lurks had clothed it, which Qarah did not think he was bright enough to have done in a consistent way. "What are you doing to the original?" it asked, its tone hovering between curiosity and accusation. "She said not to break it, remember."

It drifted closer, peering at the creature. Nearly thin enough to be aesthetic to look at, but without enough exposed bone to be beautiful, and it had no horns or any interesting appendages. Qarah leaned in a little to taste the air, opening its mouth to poke out a pointed black tongue-tip. "Smells of Fear," it said, interested, "but not enough. Where is it all going?"

There was the soft patter of feet as he traveled, much more than he was used to hearing. It echoed among the hallways and a few times Waits had to stop and peer behind him to observe just how many of the toys had actually found him. Each time it seemed to be the same two. Might have been the same two. There were hardly any distinguishing marks upon them. He briefly pondered contributing, a small scratch mark somewhere or a tag on the ear of some kind. Hm. Perhaps something could be found.

So, he continued walking, no objective in mind like the other two. Just as long as it wasn't arduous and fruitless; really, what a shame if there was nothing to be found. But he couldn't imagine so, the Mother had brought them to such a place and the room she had taken them to had been interesting enough with the carvings. Perhaps he would go back and take everything in - or take a nap, either two seemed fine options.

A few more steps and Waits found himself and his little entourage within the well room. His gaze lazily shifted about as he looked upon the thick strands of vines that covered so much of it and the well itself and made note of the small creatures that nestled there. Which the humanoids seemed to as well, their game of catching the little light bugs now being forced upon those slower blob gastropods. Poor things, he pitied them having to be handled in such a way, plucked and played with. Well, no. It was something he would most likely do too. But by such unintelligent minds. And they were shiny, he couldn't blame them fully though.

"Give some here," he commanded, holding out a sleeved hand towards the pair. At least they were good with scavenging. Though, only one seemed to comply with his wishes; eagerly scuttling back towards the alchemist with that dumb expression on its face and its hands filled with the soft glow of bugs. Waits plucked a few out of the pile - the plumpest ones - and allowed them to crawl upon the folds of his fabric; they would get free reign for now, allowed to burrow if they wanted to, until perhaps he needed something from them.

"Good," he told the lanky thing. "You are so far my favorite," though it was hard to tell if he meant it with his tone. So monotone. Waits reached out to one of the smaller vines and tugged lightly on it until it gave way. He draped it loosely around its neck a few times to give it some designation. To make it easier to remember which one actually did something for him.

"Come, more rooms." He told them and eyes his not-so-favorite one to make sure he followed.

Meanwhile, Waits was still exploring.

His pace was steady as he continued to wander through the old lair, his hand drifting occasionally to the wall to feel the soft sensation of little feet upon it. He made note of the few times his little shadows would do the same and the one time one of them attempted to eat the bugs.

They were setting off for another room, having already come across another after their little visit to the well room. The trio had come a small alcove, overrun with sand and dust. The plants there had been dried up, not flourishing like those in the other - or perhaps any other - which didn't seem to unsettle him the least. Waits had still found use for them and had tasked his Favorite to help him crush a few of the leaves while the other No was sent to the back of the alcove to shift through the scrolls and find him three that could be of interest; making him work on gaining the alchemist's favor.

It hadn't been a hard task, the leaves had fallen apart with ease but Favorite's bony fingers had done the work so neatly. So quick to be taught, Waits had been pleased and had almost given the toy a smile as he piled a majority of the flakes into a leather pouch he had produced from one of his sleeves. For the rest, he pulled out a small battered tin from a pocket near his chest, the insides containing thin sheets of hemp paper and a very used lighter. Waits got to work rolling, giving Favorite no further instructions while No continued his efforts.

It took the humanoid a few tries - a few empty scrolls, a few that didn't fit his interests and even one that seemed to be a record of the scrolls even before there had been something of use. (One he had taken seemed to be a work of fiction, he found it amusing).

With as much could be done within the confines, Waits had gotten them to set off again in further exploration.

Bringing them to another opening within the path. He stepped inside, half lidded eyes glancing at the surroundings they would find themselves in. There didn't seem to be much else besides cocoons suspended from the ceiling. From their sticky state, they didn't seem to have been forgotten or abandoned, used even. He reached up and pressed his hands against one while No decided to take it upon himself to poke at another while he held onto his finds. Curiously, Waits' gaze drifted and settled on the toy to see what would happen.

"Ah, but you will share," Qarah insisted, pleased to have found something that irritated Lurks so easily. "You cannot have it all the time." It crouched down and moved closer, peering with interested curiosity at the Original. "Water and food. Is that what it requires?"

It took a beetle out of its robes and absentmindedly toyed with the insect as it studied their interesting toy. Far more interesting than the stupids. It spoke, and there was intelligence in its eyes. "Do you read?" Qarah addressed the Original suddenly.