Greenlight District

Fairy glamer fell upon Jaden's brain like snow and normally it would have been melted by his rigorous training, years spent learning to recognize and fend off enchantments. The prospect of mutilating innocent elf maids, however, primed his mind to grasp at any opportunity for salvation. He took what the glamer offered and the elf woman's thoughts became his own. Still there was the sergeant. "Klayde, I don't think she's here, let's just leave, you know he deserved it."

"Officer Jaden!" the scarred man trumpeted, "you forget who holds rank here... wait a second," he squinted into the slits in his partner's visor, seeing the fog in his eyes. "Fairy glamer," Klayde growled rounding on the nearest of the elf bitches and raising his iron maul for a wicked swing.

"NO!" Klayde heard the shouts of the enchanted policeman distantly, but his duty drowned them out. A sharp pain, however, brought it back to focus. Klayde looked down, followed the dripping steel from his waist to Jaden's shaking hands. "Sir... I... I couldn't." Klayde felt his knees weaken as blood pooled in his boots. The greenlight went black and he slumped down falling off the blade and onto the moldy cobbles. Jaden dropped the dagger beside him, stepping back on quaking legs, "Klayde... no..." Then he ran.

By the gods this was not what she had intended.

Everything seemed to slow down to a horrifying pace. Fallon gaped at Aignéis; this was not the glamer she'd used. Fallon knew she wasn't strong enough for this, and she'd only pushed the truth into their heads. The girl they were seeking was not here. That was all. Without thinking about it, Fallon gripped Aignéis' dress and wrenched her back, away from the angry Iron Guard, hearing the fabric tear a little.

No, it wasn't supposed to escalate to this point. But here the elf girl stood, watching as the man in charge began to bring down the horrifying iron weapon on her. Her heart stopped and she thought she felt bile rise into her throat, feeling the scalding iron near her flesh. But then, it all stopped. She felt the burn of iron, but instead of the branding iron in the hand of the man named "Klayde" it was the officer who'd come between them, stopping the entire act. The absolute shock of the event pushed the bile further and Fallon vomited off to the side, unable to contain the fear any long. To make things worse, she could now see the blood trickling out from a wound in Klayde's abdomen. He was so confused. So stunned. And tired. As he slid backwards to the ground, he decided in his head that he needed to sleep. And then he was gone.

A scream built up in Fallon's chest and threatened to come out, but she covered her mouth and choked it off. Oh by the gods this wasn't the way it was supposed to go at all. How could it have possibly gone worse!? Nobody would believe that it wasn't them ... they didn't do this! And then the other officer ran, leaving the dagger that had killed his companion behind. Now there was nothing to say that they hadn't done it. Here they were, lowly elf prostitutes in the Blight, with a dead Iron Guard. Fallon never swore, everyone knew that, but now was a remarkable exception.

"Aignéis," she managed to choke out. "We are very, very incredibly fucked." Although she knew she should wait for orders from her superior, she had already removed the shawl and used it to pick up the bloody dagger, checking it to see if she could hopefully find a name carved into it or some other identification that could prove they hadn't done this. Fucking Isi, getting us involved with these people. Fucking Iron Guard, leaving us in this mess. Gods be damned, Aignéis, what did you do to that man? Couldn't you feel how vulnerable he was!? Perhaps it wasn't right to be pointing blame, but in all the years she'd spent in the Blight she'd never been at this much risk for trouble.

Delphi was not affected in the same manner as those she sang for, nor did she get to see nor experience what the individuals affected by it could see and feel. As a 'glamour' it was a rather weak one, one that only really benefited as a defense aid or stalling technique. She did of course have more violent means, the dull claws, her teeth, the venomous snakes that sat quietly and as still as they were able, atop her head but violence, she had learned, did not solve everything. While not aware who or who she had affected people it did not stop her from noticing the changes in the room, it had momentarily grown much quieter and even now the song had finished seemed to only be gradually winding back up to the same cantankerous uproar it had been prior. The large creature in the corner that had been playing with the Pixie's had grown still and the strange moving old woman yelled at a fawn who had, she assumed, joined her in song and amplified her affects. Upon hearing he was dismissed she flinched, while she had little idea what that word meant the finality to it and the look on the fawn's face meant it was unlikely to be anything good.

Though the thing that still concerned her was the person in front of her, the grey elf, who for the time seemed rather silent and still and to this end she was both pleased and concerned. Either the memory she had bought up for him was not one that would bode well for her or else it was one that had taken him to quite a good place, of such like he did not want to return. The latter seemed quite improbable in such a dark place such as what laid beyond these tree roots, the scowl carved into many a creatures face, including this one before her, spoke volumes about the kind of life lived in these horrid little mazes populated by the fae and humans.

Though escape was now potentially possible, with people distracted she could slip away without being seen, a wave of dizziness and nausea hit her harder than whatever had twisted her stomach outside the old tree. Lilting to the wide as if about to faint she caught the edge of the couch, her little claws digging into the seat as she forced herself to remain as upright as she could. Her hood slipped a little, revealing the china like features of her face, complete with her pale lips and the natural purple markings that stretched from temple to temple across her eyes. The edge of a beautiful purple petaled flower was seen but before more could be exposed her free hand had gripped her hood and gentle ice blue eyes had been half hidden behind the hood once again. It was always tiring to use her gifts but here it seemed more so, be it through the lack of food recently to the difference in environment she couldn't be sure.

Refusing to take her eyes of the grey elf this whole time she, with breath recovered, moved to take a half step back and away from the table, her flight response was stronger than her desire for this dangerous person's help and with him distracted it was the perfect time.

Awfully put together, this little changeling he'd run across. He'd heard she had a level head underneath all that purple, but he hadn't expected it to be on quite so straight. Whether a good thing or a bad thing he wasn't sure yet—Needle seemed to deal best with the people who were a little cracked, he certainly fit in better—but either way he had her attention and she was ready to follow him, and that wasn't nothing.

“Let's get you out of this room first, lovely. This is where they're expecting to find you and this is where you've got nowhere to run—take it from a pixie, hiding in plain sight and public view will keep you safe more than skulking in your own little quarters.” His wings buzzed to life behind him, dragging his little feet forward as he propelled himself up onto her hand. He walked as though he was comfortable on flesh, little pin-prick heels dimpling the skin as he strutted up her arm. That damn song... this was not the place he needed a hotbed of activity tonight, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Making his way up to her elbow, he took hold of her sleeve with one hand and gestured with his needle to the table.

“Black sheep, black sheep, have you any ink? I've a letter to write our darling matriarch and I can't very well do it in gore, can I? That's a message I don't wish to send, not yet, she's not exactly the forgiving sort and I'd rather keep off her naughty list for a time. Besides, there's no reason she can't be the best of friends so long as she keeps her fucking elf claws out of my head...”

Looking to her with a wide grin, he snapped the needle against the cauldron. “Tick tock. I'll write, you pack. We've got to get you out of this little shoebox of yours before the foot comes down.”

As the pixie explained that the first order of business was to get out of the room and away from the Boggart’s Hole, Claire nodded. Personally, she preferred skulking in her own room as the pixie put it, but she understood that now wasn’t the time to hide in there or anywhere near where Adin said she would be. She was a little surprised when she felt him walking on her arm up to her elbow, but she nodded when he asked about ink, even if the reason for saying the rhyme was hard to grasp. “I have a little box for writing out recipes and stuff. It’s over there,” she replied, using the arm that the pixie wasn’t on to point out the little cherry box on the bed.

She was a little curious as to what he meant by the matriarch’s naughty list, but didn’t bother vocalizing her question. Actually, one of the few parts of his speech that she really understood was the thing about the elf claws. Or, she thought she did at least. He was certainly a strange little guy. Regardless, she obeyed his instruction to pack, grabbing the little pack that held the padded box where her alchemical mixtures were stored and putting it on her shoulder. Considering Adin had told her the meet was going to be over by the end of the day, she hadn’t packed extra clothes or anything else. Unfortunately, that meant that most of her stuff was going to be abandoned back at the Junkyard, but there was nothing to be done about it.

“I’m ready to go when you are, sir,” Claire said once she had everything in order. It looked like the pixie was still writing, thought what it was exactly she couldn’t tell. Used to waiting from the numerous times where Adin would forget that he had called her before him for something and go off on some random tangent, Claire stood a few feet from the door patiently, musing over where exactly the pixie could be taking her. Maybe to a safe house of some kind where he and the friends he had mentioned earlier stayed? It certainly didn’t seem that the pixie was an upstanding citizen, though Claire technically wasn’t either, so she didn’t expect it to be a regular old house. It wasn’t like it really mattered though. The thoughts just kept her mind off the craziness of her current situation and the sting of the betrayal.

Delphi's song had finished and for the most part the tavern had returned back to normal but the elf still remained still and silent as ifi n a trance. She was unsure what had happened or what had gripped him so intensely but it seemed a better time than any to simply take a half step away. With no movement from the grey elf she took a full step backwards and when still there was no movement she turned slowly, keeping her hood raised high over her brow and shuffled quietly away from the little dark table where she had got a few answers and a plethora of questions in return.

In a way she was lucky and she knew this, if someone had caught her, if the elf had turned violent or greedy then she certainly would be rotting with her sister in a matter of hours, of course at least then they would be together but at what cost to their health? For the most part while others still wore the after affects of her song upon their features none seemed to suspect her and a sad little fawn was packing up his music to leave. She felt guilt, enough to make her frown slightly and bite her lower lip but ultimately the fawn's employment was the least of her concern and all she chose to do about it was slip beside him and while brushing passed deposit the petal of one of her flowers into a nook or pocket of his rather meager outfit. He smelled delicious and it took quite the force of will to move away once again from that meat, her snakes writhing briefly beneath the hood and requiring more of her concentration to placate and settle.

Clutching the back of a bar stool for a handful of movements she took several calming breaths to still both her snakes and her own predatory desire, such fresh and vibrant meat was never so easily come across back home. Whatever fae tripped into their territory were quickly 'corrupted' by the lands themselves and lost a good deal of their flavour. It had been a bad idea to come here armed only with the flowers and yet she had known she had little choice, for bringing the carcass of a fae, or fomori for that matter, in her little bag would draw more attention and suspicion than the delicate scented little flowers. She dared not to take another petal yet, having no idea now how long the food source would need to last for until she was reunited with her sister at one of the thousands of detention centers.

Uncertain where to even start, or how she slipped into the seat she had leaned upon and tried to think of a plan, she could of course simply ask someone about it but one might question a persons motives if they asked where the fomori would be held, gorgon's in particular. It would both blow her own cover and likely put her sister in more jeopardy than she was already in. Fomori in the city would be virtually impossible to find, either pets, slaves or prisoners and if any were free and still sane they would not be easily coerced into helping her. Fomori weren't big on helping anyone but themselves and it was doubtful a gorgon would have survived out here and further yet one of her own brood.

For now she would sit and think, attempt to free her mind of the primitive thoughts of her kind by squeezing her dull little nails into her palm, out of sight of the bar keep and the service staff and figure out who would have the information she wanted and how best to get hold of it.