"A good net would do in a pinch, don't know how long I can keep this up," he could feel it draining, but he was stubborn enough to keep the flexible shadow prison up as long as he could. "Or, if not that lock them up in some stone building," there had to be something, right?

The longer and more that was spilling over ad in to his shadows and the street itself, the easier it was to smell it.

Could dip the broom in to it harmlessly, but the liquid held tight and soaked in, riding up along the broom as if seeking to seep in to it somewhere. It was also a deep black, and even if there were streaks of some color and even sparkles, it smelled heavily of ink. Even had more the consistency of it than paint as well. "Something is off."