Criminal! [Loft]

Sarah turned suddenly, surprise permeating the cold before she could suppress it. To her side, one of the guards was lowering a crossbow and hurrying inside the place. Without even time for a grin of satisfaction, the woman descended on Loft immediately, kicking the fallen Deku Nut to the side and grabbing his shoulder, though not quite as firmly, this time. That bolt had gone straight through his hand, amazing as that was, and she doubted he'd be going anywhere in a hurry.

Loft continued sobbing and cradling his hand. "Marcus," he sobbed, "Marcus? Where are you?" The words were barely intelligible. Where was his friend with the healing powers he was bleeding really badly wrist punctured ow ow ow ow ow couldn't move it couldn't feel it he was crying with pain ow!

Marcus? Probably some compatriot in crime, mostly likely. But he was subdued, and that was what really mattered. Turning toward the street, she bellowed for someone to bring in a stretcher, reverting her gaze to Loft the moment that she could. The bolt may very well have fractured this kid's bone, completely crippling that hand for the time being. For all intents and purposes, Loft's day was done, and her victory was assured. Relieving the kid of his pack, the woman checked for weapons and was satisfied to see none on his obvious person. Without another word, she attempted to scoop him up in her arms and carry him out onto the street. It would do no good to just leave him bleeding in the man's shop.

Loft continued to cry and sob and cradle his bleeding wrist.

Sarah glanced at the kid with more than a bit of irritation. A portion of her felt an ounce of pity, but really he had brought this on himself. Pity was all fine and good, but when it came to the law there was no room for such things. Meanwhile, she could already feel the sweet in her hair starting to harden and stick, and every once and a while something would slide down the side of her forehead and make her shiver. It really was revolting.

Nevertheless, the kid continued to wale loudly and she continued to hold him stalwartly, a stretcher arriving a few moments later, finally allowing her to deposit him onto it. Without a word, someone shackled Loft's unblemished hand to the carrier, though Sarah noticed that it seemed to glow just a little bit as it closed around his wrist.

Snapping her head toward him, she caught the guard by the shoulder before he could move away from the stretcher. Corporal Arthur, she thought. Yes, he had captured mages before, hadn't he?

"Corporal," she said, trying to ignore that he likely thought her to look ridiculous right now with her hair as it was. "What did you just do to that manacle?" She was his superior, after all.

The man flushed a little bit, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Her reputation preceded her. "I Bound it, my lady. While it's touching him he can't use mag--"

"Magic, yes, I've heard of that," she cut him off. Well, she could turn this day into something worthwhile yet. Raising a hand, she pointed to two more guards to lift the stretcher before turning back to the corporal, "Walk with me. I've been meaning to learn that spell for some time, and I intend you to teach me now as we accompany Mr. Loft here." The corporal looked extremely unhappy now, but she ignored that, instead turning back to the criminal, "Do you have a surname, Loft? We will contact any relatives or kin you might have nearby." With him wailing like that, she didn't really expect him to respond, though.

Loft felt himself being set onto a stretcher, and he felt something- was that- was that- chains? Were they putting chains on him chains? No, not more chains Lfot didn't like chains they were binding and restrictive and weighed him down he wanted to be free not in chains no no no no his hand bled and bled and pain and pain and someone was talking to him what was she saying Loft tried to listen.

"No," Loft wailed, he didn't want his daddy to come he was dead and burned and dead and burned and he'd kill him dead dead dead dead....

Someone handed Sarah a wet rag, and she dried her hair out the best she could with it, still looking aloof at best over the whole thing. It was not a particular surprise, though. Loft was still screaming, though she thought he'd said 'no' to her question, so she ignored him for the most part. The situation was fully in hand, now, and while the screaming was irritating it was no more than what he deserved.

"All right," she barked to the surrounding men, not worrying whether someone superseded her command at this point. "Let's get this show on the road. Downes and Clarkson, stay with the shopkeeper and make sure everything is sorted out. The rest of you are with me; you all know the drill."

The small procession lurched into movement down the roads. If they were lucky, maybe Loft would get tired and pass out.

Blood was steadily pumping from the bottom of Loft's hand, where a hole was drilled straight through the skin, veins, muscles, and bone. Loft could feel the life leaving him, and his head thumped back as he passed into potentially fatal unconsciousness.

Loft moaned and tugged on the bars. He hated being imprisoned. Being cooped up, not being allowed to run freely through the air, was torture. This was his punishment, to stay stuck in this cell for a week. At first, the judge with the poofy hair had wanted him to clean up the candy store and help out the big fat owner, but when Loft had begun drooling to dreams of double-dipped chocolate donuts, he had reconsidered. Loft didn't know what had happened with the mean guard lady, but he was glad that she wasn't the one standing on the other side of the metal bars.

He hung his head. There was nothing for it; he would just have to wait for his week to be up before being released back into the world. At least it wasn't longer, like the last time he'd been incarcerated. There was nothing for it but to wait. Loft sighed, sat down, and dreamed a dream of times gone by. At least they'd fixed him up so he wasn't bleeding. That'd hurt a lot.