[identity profile] lslaw.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] writing_shadows
It's been a long day.

We had two things to do, and not much time to do them in: To rescue George, and to renegotiate the Silver Pact.

George started his own break out, or the lune inside him did. Boomer got pretty cut up trying to extract him, but nothing that wouldn't heal. George came out less well; he died in hospital. I do consider it a win that he didn't die in a cage.

By that point, I wasn't in much of a mood for the Merchant Prince's bullshit. After a thousand years, he was worried he was 'becoming something different than himself' and tried to talk one of my pack, one of my wolves, into being his agent provocateur. So, when he didn't like the new pact - which is actually much, much softer on the Courts than I would have liked, but right now we have one pack in the county - I figured to hell with him.

The Brightaxe sheared through his altar with a sharp crack and the spirit itself disappeared with one last jingle of coins. We could have tried to summon him, but he'd have gone to ground somewhere, in whatever he'd replaced his abacus with after the PKs burned it.

Instead, I turned to the others and said: "It's open season. And in future, as far as we're concerned, it's name is 'Merch'."
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