Blackthorne took a deep breath of fresh mid-afternoon air as he returned to his native form. The journey up from the depths had been significantly easier after his increase in life force. Lacking the sense of crippling weakness that had accompanied his journeys to the surface before, he could truly revel in the freedom to move around in his shadow form.

"As wonderful as a breath of fresh air might be, I have some explaining to do," he said quietly after a moment. His hesitancy to move forward dealt with, he stopped procrastinating then shifted back into his human form.

He yawned, then stretched once more, but then noticed something interesting. He held his hand up and stared at his fingernails. They were far thicker and sharper than normal. "The hell?"

Blackthorne ran his hands across his face and chest, but noted no sign of scales. Though, his body was even more powerful looking than before. He flexed his biceps a few times then frowned. "Is it because of my growth spurt? My human form shouldn't change this much, or at all since it's a magical transformation."

He blinked then opened his mouth. His tongue lightly tapped the tip of his canine teeth and he snorted. "Yeah, those are definitely a little longer and sharper."

"Ah well, I don't have a mirror. Let's just hope I don't look like too much of a freak," he said lightly. Sonja probably would not mind either way, but it would be annoying if the guards thought he was a demon from hell.

Blackthorne wandered through the grass and headed off toward the nearby town. The walls were well in sight, and he did not take long to arrive at the gates. A few curious glances were sent his way, but the local guards still recognized him enough not to accost him. It was a good sign.

Once he arrived at the Screaming Onion, he immediately went to seek out Scraggles. Thankfully, he was working. Though, he had a few choice words for him when he saw him.

"Oh, you finally decided to waltz back in here?" asked Scraggles, a hard scowl on his face.

"I didn't get much choice in the matter. How long has it been?" asked Blackthorne in the hopes of derailing the man's obvious intent to tear into him.

"Didn't get much choice? You abandon Jack... Sonja here over a week ago and don't even tell her a reason why?" asked Scraggles. "Do you know what you sound like?"

Blackthorne nodded to him. "I'm sorry I can't go into it with you. She'll understand once I see her."

"You're so certain of that are you?" Scraggles took a menacing step toward him then thrust out one gnarled finger. "What makes you think she even wants to see you?"

Blackthorne gazed down slightly at the now shorter man. "That's up to her. I did what I had to do for the sake of everyone around me, and she will understand. What she chooses to do after that is her business."

Scraggles looked up slightly at him ready to say something else. However, it was in that moment that he finally realized something. "You— When did you get to be so tall?"

Blackthorne sighed. "I'd tell you all about it, but I don't know if it's something you want to know."

The tavern owner eyed Blackthorne's fingernails then stared into his eyes. He sniffed the air briefly then frowned. "You're not even human, are you?"

Blackthorne did not answer, but he did not need to answer. Scraggles nodded to himself. "Some sort of vampire maybe? A demon? Would explain how people reacted the day you left."

"I'm just me. Nothing has changed except that there's just more of me than before," admitted Blackthorne. "I had to eat, and eat a lot. I did not realize it until it was almost too late and had to run off to a place with no one around who I would hurt."

Scraggles blinked slowly then tilted his head to the side. "I see. It's no wonder you got on so well with those dark elves..."

"Look," said Scraggles. "I don't know what you are, and I don't care as long as you don't cause trouble. Especially for that girl or my tavern."

He wagged his finger. "Sonja has been paying your room and board fees since you were gone. She's out right now trying to scrounge up a few more Jerin in that graveyard near here."

"I see," said Blackthorne. He closed his eyes even as a surprising wave of emotion crashed over him. She had not run off. She would no doubt be mad as hell at him, but she had tried to wait for him despite his inability to properly articulate his situation.

"I had best go meet up with her. Thank you for letting me know." Blackthorne nodded to him then turned toward the door.

"Hey," said Scraggles suddenly. His hand clamped around Blackthorne's arm in a vice-like grip.

Blackthorne glanced back at the man, noting the incredibly strong grip that he had for a supposed tavern owner. In truth, he doubted that he could easily pull away without it coming to a fight. "Yes?"

"You bought her from me, but that doesn't change the fact that she deserves to be treated better. Don't do this again." Scraggles eyed Blackthorne in an unwavering manner. Clearly, he did not have any fear of him in the slightest.

"You are right. She does deserve better," replied Blackthorne quietly.

Scraggles released his grip on the other man's arm, then nodded to him. "As long as you know it."

Blackthorne nodded silently then continued out the door. There was nothing else to be said about the matter, really. While Scraggles had been Sonja's master, it was clear that he cared for her as well. He stayed out of her business, and allowed her to make her own choices outside of working at the tavern.

Their banter back and forth was in many ways clear evidence of their general fondness for each other. Was it more than that? Doubtful. Neither had shown any signs of interest toward each other in that way. If anything, Scraggles seemed like a quirky old uncle who liked to tease his niece. Well, outside of the whole enslavement thing.

He kept that relationship in mind as he left the Screaming Onion Tavern behind and headed out the gate once more. He received a few more odd glances from the guard, but once again they said nothing. Clearly there was something different about him in their eyes, but it was not enough of a change to get excited about it.

Once he was well beyond the wall, he rushed forward at a full-speed run. It had been quite some time since he allowed himself to run anywhere. The unaccustomed feel of wind rushing against his face made him feel as though he were flying.

Grass whipped at him due to his speed, but he did not feel its sting. Even without armor his body was far too tough to consider such a thing as a problem for a while.

He did begin to feel a bit of stinging pain after running for a few minutes, but he disregarded it. At the rate he was going, it would not take long to get to the graveyard. It was unlikely that he would even lost a point of life force in the process.

Many thoughts whirled through his mind while the grass whipped against him. The nigh-imperceptible flagellation of his flesh kept his mind sharp. What did one say to his slave chef turned pack mule after running out on her in a crowded restaurant? The truth would be a good thing to start with, but that wouldn't stop her from being upset that it had happened at all.

He seethed slightly as he ran. "If only I had figured it out sooner."

Now that he knew the signs to watch out for, he wouldn't have to worry about repeating his mistake again. Even so, that did not change the situation as it stood. He needed to do something to make it up to her.

Blackthorne sighed then slowed to a trot. "Hell, I have to apologize to Shara and Ashton, too. Who knows how long he had actually been gone. A little over a week could easily be three or four days on Earth."

His trot slowly became a walk. "I need to do better than this..."

What did he do, though? He had no real experience with trying to placate what would no doubt be a very angry woman.

He tilted his head to the left and then back to the right. "A present... If TV didn't lie to me, she probably just wants to know I'm safe and to scream at me for being a jerk... but a present should help make the yelling go by faster."

"The hell do you get a Valkyrie to make up for being a dead beat dragon, though?" His eyes wide, he tried his best to come up with a solution. She loved weapons and armor, but something about the situation made him think that would just make it worse.

"Come on brain, think! I have an above average intellect. You'd think it would be easy to figure out how to make an angry woman be less angry!" groused Blackthorne in annoyance.

He plopped down in the grass for a while and considered all of his options. Sonja worked hard, and rarely complained. She also rarely asked for anything. "Those lifetime movies I never watched on television, ever, all said similar things. She should just want me to show that I give a damn about her."

"Are Valkyries like the bored housewives on those shows that I don't watch?" Blackthorne nodded his head slowly. He needed a plan of action. In many ways this would be a battle of wills. She would want to scream at him, and would get her chance.

At least, he hoped that she would scream at him. In all those movies he never, ever, watched it was when the bored housewife stopped screaming that she stopped caring. She also would usually run off with the hipster artist guy who did graffiti art on the subway, or her husband's boss whom she had been told kept him late at work all the time because he was an asshole. Said husband would be sleeping around of course, and the boss would secretly have a heart of gold and a much bigger... bank account. Not that he knew of such shows and their content, of course.

It took quite some time, but he slowly hatched a diabolical scheme. "Oh... Oh yes, that could work..."

He smiled a fang-toothed smile even as his eyes glowed red. It was time to fight his greatest battle, yet!