Lightning in a Bottle (RP)

Ezmaray slowly eases closer to the creature, her voice intense. "How far away is your master? Nearby? A day's walk? Many days'...??"

The sound of Ezme's voice gives Roald a boost. He turns in her direction, sword still in his hand.
His face feels cold and itchy and... Wet.
It's probably just little drops of mist

Roald can't stand the itching feeling any longer, twice he scratches his wound.

Still holding her blade out in front of her, Ezmaray slowly reaches with her other hand for the stainless steel conibear trap and unhooks it from her pack. "My friends and I need to talk to your master. Would you bring us to them or tell us where they are? Yes... no... cannot...?

"Hold up, y'little wankle! You do not understand." She subtly removes the safeties from the trap as she speaks. She crouches down closer to the creature, blade still out, but not in a threatening fashion. As she continues speaking, her voice sounds almost friendly. "I cannot go alone. It is too unsafe. We must fetch my other friends first, so they can come with us. Come with me to them, and then we can all go together to talk with your master...."

Ezmaray does the hunters trill one more time -- using morse code to signal a clear SOS. She's starting to worry this trill is more a local practice than she realized, or something only known by those in her trade....?

Well, whatever. She would handle this on her own if she had to. Nothing new there.

From her crouched position, Ezmaray places one moccasined foot inside the conibear as she pries the springs open to set it with one-hand. "But Wankle...." she coos as she works. "You have to earn my trust still. We are not friends yet. We are friends after you show me... Until then I need my other friends to come with me. You understand?"

Her eyes briefly dart to the creature's armpit to see if there's anything odd about it.

Ezme raises her eyebrows and emits a (fake) surprised gasp as she swings the knife around distractingly. "I don't believe I've ever used the word 'love,' with you, Wankle! Wherever did you hear THAT one?" Her eyes quickly dart behind the creature as if seeing someone behind it. "Is that Albert?" She quickly finishes setting the trap.

Ezmaray suddenly hisses with pain, drawing her hand away from the trap upon setting it. A drop of blood forms on her finger where it had gotten pinched in the springs.

Encouraging the creature's distraction, Ezmaray squeezes her injured finger to cause more blood to bubble up. As the creature stares transfixed, she sheaths her blade and grips the trap with her right hand. With a sudden lunge, she attempts to toss the trap onto one of its limbs. Her objective: to trap the creature without killing it.

Seeing the trap fly right through the creature and land (mostly) harmlessly to the ground, Ezme exhales loudly with frustration.
"Would you rather I have used the knife?!?" she spits back a little defensively. In truth, she feels oddly guilty upon witnessing the creature's dismay. Had it honestly considered her a friend? She'd assumed it was trying to deceive her again. "I didn't want to hurt you. Just wanted to convince you to come with me." Trying to resist the overwhelming urge to itch her wounds, Ezme rises back to her feet to collect the trap and reattach it to her pack. She shakes her head. "I must get back to the others before they get themselves killed looking for me. Walk with me if you like."