Kitty's Keeper/No Clean Blades

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Dinner went off without a hitch for human and siren alike, and the five thronged to Paul's bar soon after. Paul was able to stem his urge to sing during the performance, while Carum was finally able to forgive themselves for stabbing Paul. In fact, the experience piqued their interest in anatomy, and they wondered if they could explore the siren's most recent meal—an inquisitive buck—once the four had their fill of its body. Unfortunately for the acolyte, one of the few tenets of the Old Tradition the band still subscribed to forbade such a thing. Bodies caught as sustenance were only to be used as sustenance—for the sirens, for the scavengers like Ringo's beloved piranhas, and for the other remains-eaters of Terra's rich panoply until She Herself swallowed up what was left. A slight exception was made for horned beasts and skulls, but only because they could be put to other functional uses. However, Paul was happy to loan them a book or two on the subject, as well as a few pamphlets on basic healing techniques. He also asked George's permission to teach healing and healing magic once the cult was better established. To Carum's delight, permission was granted.

"Might as well," John commented. "Seeing as Kitty has a talent for it."

John's reference made Carum prickle with anxiety. "I beg your forgiveness, John."

John waved the words away. "Aw, it's alright. Better 'im than you, in the end. Being human 'n all. Fragile and all..."

Carum frowned at that. "Why do you say we humans are fragile? As if I am weak? As if I am some gutless, guileless eel?"

The siren's eyes widened. "What? No, Kitty, no! Ye aren't weak. Anyone that can go blade to tooth with a Pink Meanie and live to tell the tale is plenty tough in our book. It's just...well, let me put it this way: I can hoist Paul over my head, chuck him into the wall, then decapitate him, and all he would need is a biscuit and a lie-down. If I did that to you, your soul would be payable to George."

Carum turned to the siren in question. "It would?"

George gripped his glass chalice. "No, it wouldn't. Unless you're offering."

Carum's devotion was deep and unyielding, but they never viewed it as eternal. They shook their head. "No, I'm not offering."

"Exactly."

The acolyte considered this. "So... it's less that I'm weak and more that you're all much stronger."

John nodded. "By your measure, sure. But if you are insistent that I treat you like a siren, then I will be happy to oblige." He extended a hand and a ring of green aura surrounded Carum's middle.

Carum swallowed thickly. "That...that's not necessary, John," they tittered.

John only smiled and forced the human a few feet into the air.

"John? John!"

He lifted them over the siren's heads, where they went stiff with fear. George glared at him from across the bar. John wiggled his eyebrows at the younger siren, knowing George couldn't defy him without truly endangering his acolyte.

John looked up at Carum. "What say you, Kitty?"

"I...I humbly request that you return me to the ground. Please."

"Well, since ye said please..."

John lowered them and released his grip. Carum sighed with relief.

"Thank you."

Not too long after, all drinks were drained, and everyone retreated to their bedchambers, ready to embrace sleep.