#((wweh))

CHARMED COLLAR. multi-strapped and handmade with black-dyed latigo leather, held together by a single silver buckle and two rings, one secured to the back of the neck — other in front to connect to a long chain of iron links leading to another ring center of vere's torso ( only after the first century were the senobium generous enough to include padding for comfort ).

very faintly would one see the worn etching of unfamiliar lettering along the surface of the leather, and if one is close enough- skilled enough- they may even sense something eminating from the piece. a dull pulse of power that seems to do its part in containing vere and his powers as a monster.

while it isn't a complete supression of his abilities, his charmed restraints do its due diligence in ensuring vere only kills what the senobium allows — other monsters, and the soulless that stalk the streets at night just to name a few. no harm to humans, but where is it that they draw the line ... when does the compulsion to obey take over? it surely isn't when vere has the mangled arm of thief trapped in his maw, or when he's dragging a half-dead, bruised and bloodied drunkard to the front door of kuras' clinic. no, not that.

how about when the ever-simmering blood lust finally boils over? when vere licks at his hungry and drooling chops, sharpening his claws that itch to shred? to pierce? kill? yes ... this, here, is that line : the intent to kill is what triggers that compulsion to obey. a faint vibration that first grows at a quickened pace. constriction at vere's throat, and suddenly there's an incapacitating strike of magic that shocks his system.

fully conscious, and yet all motor functions may come to a halt. jaw clenches, teeth grind together. every nerve and every muscle in vere's body tightens and and he's guided to curl into himself. from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his toes, his tail, ears, it's a pain he feels down to the marrow ... body forcing itself to the ground in a vain attempt to run from the sensation. to display his submission.

through the centuries, vere had become almost accustomed to the sensation ( he can count on one hand how many times he's tried to kill a human in the last decade — the memory of punishment itself sends shivers down his spine ... and it is too embarrassing to allow the public to be privvy to his forced submission ). sometimes, it seems to be over as soon as it begins ... but for vere, the senobium makes sure it's every bit as painful as they long promised it to be.

it's something so discouraging that vere doesn't dare repeat this mistake. it also serves as something of an assurance that he would never turn to bare his teeth at them.

[ and it dawns on me that the jingling i heard earlier wasn't coming from the harness attached to his collar, but a leash. a heavy iron chain wound around a hitching post and padlocked to the back of his collar. ]

toward the back of vere's neck is an aformentioned ring with no other purpose than to leash this monster. an iron v - ring in which its sole purpose is to connect to a palm sized padlock to keep him in place. often connected to another iron chainlink to connect to stoops or for his handlers to hold onto when they need to remain in control of him — like handling a disobediant dog, they would often say ( much to vere's chagrin ).

while there's nothing quite special about this piece of hardware in particular, the padlock itself is also charmed by a cleric of the senobium. unbreakable, unpickable. vere has long since given up trying to break free of it ... so it seems.

CHARMED HARNESS. now this part isn't an extention of some crude fashion statement, no. this is also for protection. for containment. the harness is a single strap of leather circled fittedly around his torso that is reinforced at the circular ring center to vere's chest. at first glance, it doesn't seem like anything spectacular. perhaps a little flimsy, definitely nothing one would think could contain a monster of vere's calibur.

and yet ...

while vere is quite formidable in the form he defaults to- there's still only so much that can get done with sharpened fangs and two bare hands. carefully sanctioned by the senobium, vere is also allowed a very specific, restricted ability: transformation. shapeshifting.

in recorded history ( or what's left of it, in vere's very ... very particular case ), there had been many tales told of a fox deity that haunted a local village. it was reported that the deity was most sizable, seemingly larger than the average fox — shadows and tendrils towering over homes and fields alike as it reigns terror and chaos everywhere it's seen.

through many harrowing experiments and attempts at further containment, the senobium has perfected a way to allow vere to shift into his fox form during a hunt, of course with his power greatly condensed. enchanted harness keeps him contained in size — another shameful and humiliating show to keep vere in check. a once overwhelming and powerful presence so debasingly snuffed and replaced with a form that is only the fraction as exaulted as this once malignant entity had been.