Interacting with: Yalen @pantothenic, Jocasta @Force and Fury, Ayla @Ti, Kaspar @Wolfieh (In intermission, see Kaspar’s latest post!) Location: Torragonese Desert
Yalen not only complied with Zarina’s request but even went on to close the item himself. A light bit of reluctance came from the Virangish young lady, as if she were a little surprised, although ended up relenting. A scrutinising gaze was kept on the tethered blond, both arms crossed, as she watched him go. Looking satisfied after having it returned, he’d get her thanks, along with a distinctly more genuine smile than what she had been presenting thus far.
”... No it isn’t.” was her response to Ayla’s quote, with her Virangish accent slipping her and a far more typical Avincian accent taking over ever so briefly. Her expression was as deadpan as it got, especially as she gestured toward the two dead Halassa by her own blade. Perhaps a bit disingenuous, but one was certainly mightier at getting the job done fast and efficiently, ”Although this is mightier than anything you’ll find in Severa.” she commented in jest as Ayla’s coffee cup was served.
Now for Jocasta and Zarina’s insistence. She was overjoyed to see such appreciation for her favourite treat! A toothy grin reigned on her visage, ”Wallah! You should taste it with goat milk! Trades that pure bitterness for something real nice to the tongue. M’hm.” she even has the tethered imposter’s cup a tap with her own in a celebratory manner before she indulges herself, taking small and methodical sips as if she had mastered the act of drinking it down to a science.
”Aye, thanks you two.” she corrected her finger pointing. A quick glance had her make sure everyone was following with no stragglers before she essentially led the way. And before long many would take this down time to exchange, and she wouldn’t be any different. Kaspar and Zarina would end up at the tail of the group as they’d engage in a casual but ultimately information conversation, until a couple of things caught Zarina’s ear. Most notably: Jocasta’s change in demeanour and now partially-exposed history with the refuge. There was a potential loose cannon.
The chair-bound tethered could potentially feel the growing attention coming from the tall Virangish girl behind her, or maybe not. Zarina was considering all potential issues, oblivious to just how bad things could really get, and yet she didn’t actually appear to suspect Jocasta of anything beyond volatility, ”Makes me wonder what the big beard was th-” as she was going to pursue the exchange with Kaspar, a series of unfortunate events would unfold.
Torragonese was Zarina’s second mother tongue, and as a rider, the dramatic mention of the evil sands had her on her guard immediately. Although instead of reaching for her weapon, she immediately reached her arm out to get Kaspar further behind her- a pointless gesture given the gravity of things, but one that could mean a few things. A thing was for certain, she knew the slow scholar, as well as some others, would be dead if it were true and the group was unprepared, ”Fuck.” she cursed under her breath as she looked over at the direction of the incoming beast. The seismic activity made it easy for the Kinetic mage to notice and locate the massive monstrosity, even when visibility had been diminished by the night.
The natural instinct was to run, but the team couldn’t afford it– not without help. Jocasta had the same idea, which prompted a squint from the young rider, ”She has the right idea. But most of you can’t outrun that thing. Not without a horse.” she tried her best to keep her cool, but the cold sweats were accumulating fast on her forehead and neck. She could escape, probably, and so could Jocasta by what Zarina could deduce. But the rest? Her sister? The crippled Yalen? Nerdy Kaspar? They’ll die for sure.
In Zarina’s moment of intense anxiety, a position she had never truly been in despite leading quite the dangerous folks, Ayla had a solution. The first words that came prompted Zaz’s glare, ”A game …?” precious seconds were going to waste, and they were discussing a game. But Ayla wasn’t joking. Zarina didn’t get it, not entirely anyway, but simple deduction was to use a lure by how she was attributing roles, with her own being to hurl it with Jocasta toward the Halassa they had left behind.
She got to work. Or rather, she prepared. First, she marked a spot on the sand and found a proper reference point. One of the stone plateaus was recognized and she could easily determine the trajectory of the object to be tossed away. However, that wasn’t all she was preparing. The Binders had to build, and Yalen had to heat up, and with all that spare time potentially idle, Zarina concocted Plan B. There was no point in uttering it– the risk of distracting from the main plan was too great.
”If it turns sour,” she speaks to Jocasta, as they both held the same role, ”Think you can get Ayla and Yalen to safety? I can throw my sister and Kaspar far enough for them to get away. Should be able to land and handle minor injuries. Worst case, I keep it busy.” she inhaled loudly, and then exhaled.
The turning fork was ready. It looked heavy, and definitely not something she could manipulate on her own. Her Telekinesis was still budding and magnetism most certainly wasn’t going to work properly with a super-heated piece of metal. So, she looked over at Jocasta, ”Just aim it properly, and–” another big inhale-exhale, and she went for it. With the accumulated kinetic energy from the tremors, she could unleash a single, powerful and focused blast from a well-coordinated kick. The big fork was propelled at great speeds, and now all that was left was Jocasta’s adjustment of its trajectory, and Ayla’s final touch.
And then she froze, adopting even a one-legged pose she had no issue maintaining. The most tense moment had come, and all Zarina could think of was how she would have to play out her contingency plan.
The excitement was over almost as soon as it began. Her companions were moving on and the silent puppeteer, Ysilla, followed in silence. Her cloak pulled around to cover her so only her face had to bear the worst of the cold this night. She would have been fine making the trek in silence but her companions were quick to break into conversation. They each had their musings of exchanging bits of themselves. Most were uninteresting topics to her aside from the novelty of just how each person acted. Ayla's infectious positivity was drawing the others to her like moths to a flame. It made sense, being a moth herself, but it was intriguing to watch from afar... even though Ysilla's mood drifted to jealousy. Those moths could find their own flame.
Speaking of the others, they mostly left Ysilla alone. Her sister was obvious but the others, at least Ysilla suspected, were disarmed by the fact she never liked to talk. She'd even let questions asked of her go by unanswered if she counted them as the "small talk" sort. It wasn't out of malice but rather there was nothing interesting or revealing about a person in small talk. It was another border put in place to protect people from revealing who they truly were. A waste of time. That's what made Ayla more appealing to her. The girl loved to talk, putting others at ease, and it apparently never bothered the little lioness that Ysilla didn't talk back. Might have even enhanced their relationship in a way, but that was Ysilla's belief rather than a fact.
So when she offered nothing in response to the Snakewood suggestion, they understood each other, at least Ysilla hoped. Her smile was the bridge she created to express her interest. Snakewood could be used as a medium for a puppet although the pattern would be utilized with a snake. The only wooden snake puppets she knew of were the ones constructed out of many segmented pieces allowing the figure to slither. The issue was that the segments were spaced out with nothingness in between them, like a snake's skeletal structure. That was the only way it could move, though maybe you could...
"Sand Wyrm!"
Sand Wyrm?
That wasn't good judging from the tone shift from the jovial mood earlier. Some of them knew this was bad. Ysilla's mind went to planning escape for a moment before Ayla brought her attention in. Dança-Alsahra A game? Curious time to be-oh. It made sense. A character in a play might often make a connection to something that they are familiar with if it helps them in a given situation.
Instructions on what to do next came. Bigger was something she could do. The school of Magnetic magic had been her mainstay for years now. She practiced on always sensing and maintaining her creations around her. She naturally had a sense, like a magnetic pull, where her puppets were and could relate that to actual magnetic objects. At this stage, Ysilla's range was about fifty meters to sense magnetic objects and buried in the sand she could feel all sorts of natural or lost material that fit the description. Necessary because Ysilla believed Ayla didn't just want size but weight, too. While Kaspar drew sand, Ysilla drew all the objects buried around them. Remnants of weaponry and armor, buried stones, and all others she could find buried around them were pulled from the sand and offered to their enlarging tuning fork.
When her part was done, Ysilla stifled her breathing and did her best to remain upright but keeping her cloak closed, her legs wobbled in weakness from the draw threatening to give out. It was her natural reaction when exerting herself, like the first thing to go would be her sense of balance.
She did her part, however, and now it was to them. Watching carefully as Ayla's plan was enacted before being left to stand perfectly still amid her weak knees...
It doesn’t make sense! Everything went all according to plan and then it all went dark. How could I fail this much? I had everything gifted to me on a silver platter, yet I screwed it up like a damned dummkopf! The Feskan was still in deep thought as she was being led by Manfred. She couldn’t tell him what happened, can she? Would he still accept her? I’ve done the unthinkable after all…
The usually brash and loud girl was now no more than shaking and scared lamb, letting her frame be consumed by her own cloak as she tried to make herself as small as possible. It seems like being out of the chaotic brawl gave her brain ample time to start thinking about what went down.
Her eyes widened upon the realization. There stood Carmillia. The person that was supposed to help her. Did she truly leave her behind? She opened one of her small satchels and began filling her dueling pistol with gunpowder, finishing it up with the small lead ball.
As they closed the distance on the rest of the group, Dory aimed her pistol not at the mages in front of them but at her fellow student. A Mad look unbefitting the woman covered her face as she mumbled. “Filthy Perrenchwoman… Dirty traitors… You’ll pay for stamping over my trust…”
Jocasta had let herself slip. She'd said too much. Being here - in this place - was not good for her, even if it did afford her the opportunity to dispense some cold, hard justice. Briefly, she went so far as to consider leaving the others to their fates, but there was the chance that one would live and know her for what she was.
The tethered girl had been about to grudgingly suggest lifting them all with kinetic magic, but then Slut came up with a sudden idea that was just needlessly complex. She began shouting instructions with such purpose and vigour that... It wants to live, Jocasta thought mockingly, but then she softened, unable to begrudge Ayla that most basic of ambitions. She actually had a life to look forward to and, for a moment, the floating blonde girl felt a spike of jealousy.
"R-Right!" Jocasta shouted, remembering to keep the tremor in her voice. "I think I-I know her plan! Do it!" This could work out well. They'd either live and grow to trust her more or they'd die by their own actions and she'd carry a bit less guilt into her dreams tonight. The binders started binding then. Jocasta could've helped them, but she'd only signed up for one part in this production and she'd let the chips fall where they would.
Then, as a colossal tuning fork began to take shape, Bitch leaned in towards her amid the scramble. "If it turns sour,” she began, and it was an effort not to flinch from her foul coffee breath (Jocasta turned it into a nervous start of surprise). "Think you can get Ayla and Yalen to safety? I can throw my sister and Kaspar far enough for them to get away. Should be able to land and handle minor injuries. Worst case, I keep it busy.”
Jocasta nodded. "I-I can do that."Fuck you and your quick thinking. In truth, she did not want to actually picture leaving those two idiots to die, loath as she was to admit it to herself. She exhaled. "Don't w-worry about a thing, Zamira!"
Yalen began heating the tuning fork while Sucker and Creep nearly collapsed. The tethered girl let herself sink back onto the ground right beside the latter, setting her wheeled-chair nearby. "Lean on me," she whispered. Her head was at about the perfect level. As Ayla reached out and set the tuning fork humming, Jocasta could feel a massive heart quicken under the sands. "Just aim it properly..." It was Bitch again. "and–”
Jocasta didn't wait. She could feel her partner's kinetic kick and it wouldn't have been enough. She gripped the tuning fork midair and hammered it towards the dead halassa and the dozen other scavengers that had gathered since her departure. Every bit of energy, she bled from herself... save a tiny bit: just enough to escape without having to fully draw should this fail and she needed to.
Then, there was only silence - eerie silence in the desert night - and the feeling of her entire world subtly shaking. Eyes darted between the members of the group. Pulses quickened. Jocasta tried to hold herself aloof from their panic - amateurs - but her racing heart put the lie to it. The rumbling grew. The Wyrm was no longer on a course to intercept them by the Refuge gate. It was heading towards them. In the near distance, bells began ringing at the Refuge and torches flickered to life. She could head the shouts but not understand what was being said. The three pieces of shit had made it safely, though, and they scrambled inside. She could see their silhouettes glancing back at the group of teens. The faint energy signature of the dead one lay in the desert until the Sand Wyrm passed right beneath it. It was subsumed and torn to shreds, inconsequential. That beasts of this nature exist... It would be humbling if it wasn't so wondrous. That Wyrm was probably hundreds of years old. It had been here when the Torraro were still the Torraure, perhaps before them, when this land had belonged to its original inhabitants. It was -
One hundred yards. It closed in. The ground shook. The sand shifted.
Eighty yards. The bells were clanging. Jocasta remembered those bells.
Sixty yards. She could see figured climbing up on the Refuge's parapets: caretakers and guards, the children who were still On Four. She had done the same as a child, scanning the dune sea for the trails of the great Wyrms, terrified yet intrigued behind great walls that she prayed were safe enough.
Forty. Her heart accelerated behind her ribcage, clawing to free itself and escape. She could see it! She could see the waves of sand, the dust sparkling under Qamar Aħmar: the red moon.
Twenty. Yalen was silently praying. She could tell. The Wyrm slowed and started to turn.
Ten. Jocasta opened her arms, ready to suck in every ounce of energy that she could and hurl herself from here. The sand close to them began to sink. Her wheeled-chair shifted. Fuck it! enough of -
The ground caved partway in and there was a massive spray of sand. Part of an enormous head broke the surface, but it was turning. It was pointing the other way! It raced off after the fork, picking up speed. I hope you break your teeth on it, she thought spitefully at the creature. I hope it comes out the other end. I hope it's painful.
But Jocasta Re half sat and half knelt there in the sand, heart thudding, and a little noise of relief escaped her - "Hah!" - followed by a larger one of pure glee: "Hahahaaaaa you piece of shit!" She pumped her fist. "I-I hope you have to poop it out, you d-damned worm!"
Time was not theirs to waste, however. She looked down to see that she was buried up to her waist in the sand. She hadn't felt it. Jocasta gathered energy liberally from the collapsing ground in the Wyrm's wake and pushed herself into the air. She freed her wheeled-chair and then any of the others who needed it. "Did you see that!?" she crowed, grinning like a magpie. "Ayla, you're a genius!" She spun in midair, settling back down onto her seat. She glanced behind her. "But now we've g-gotta go." She looked ahead again. "...to th-that place." He tone grew solemn. "I'll... I'll face it with you f-five, though. You can b-be my very own Pentad!" She smiled bravely. "Just... don't c-confront them tonight, o-okay? It's bad, but w-we need them on our side for--for now. We need a place to sleep."At least until I murder all the caretakers. She smiled some more.
THEREFFUGE
The gates shuddered open only after another two minutes. The people inside - at least the ones in charge - were evidently in no hurry to let anyone in. As the colossal wood and iron-strip doors parted, they could already see a sizable crowd gathered. Most were children and teens and some leaned on canes or crutches. Others were older and in wheeled-chairs not unlike Jocasta's. They were held back by a handful of adults: ones who evidently had no trouble with their mobility, and some of whom appeared armed.
The group of six that arrived were a sight: exhausted, sweaty, and filthy, but it was instantly clear that they were a wonder to the people inside. Voices rose from murmurs to shouts. Children darted and hobbled back and forth. One little guy fell flat on his stomach trying to duck under what most of the new arrivals supposed to be a caretaker's arm. He was hauled upright and scrambled away. Another preteen girl, leaning on a pair of crutches, tried rubbernecking over the sea of heads. It was dark and the moon caught her face from a particular angle that made one side of it almost seem to glow for a moment. Hastily, in the background, torches were being lit. Caretakers could be seen pacing around behind the small but growing gathering, blocking anyone else from reaching it. "¡Vuelve a tu habitación! ¡Vuelve ahora!" they were shouting. "Es la hora de dormir!" said others. They switched to Avincian for some of the smaller children. "You shouldn't be out here!" they warned, but their efforts seemed in vain.
One little girl with wavy black hair, dimples, and buckteeth managed to slip through and make it to Yalen, beaming. "We don't geh visidors verrey offen!" she said with a thick Segonese accent. "Only waan in de whole time I'm heer!" She blinked and regarded his cane for a moment. "Whehr you froam?" she asked.
A second one, a few years older, slipped past, leaning on a crutch. She was tall for her age, with braces over her feet and ankles, auburn hair, and a light dusting of freckles. "You know the Wyrm Dance?" she demanded of Ayla, her eyes wide with excitement. She sounded... Perrench, perhaps, or maybe Miattan. "I used Sonic Magic to hear you." She grinned with self-satisfaction. "I can tell you're a sonic mage too. That was a neat trick."
A boy with a nervous face approached Kaspar. "Are you guys like..." He glanced down, trying to hide his hope, "Here to pick up anyone... or something?" He mumbled a couple more words beneath his breath, but they were impossible to make out in all of the clamour.
Another boy, this one a preteen, slipped through right near the outer wall and made it to Zarina. "You're from Virang, aren't you?" He asked in her native tongue. He reached into a little satchel and pulled out a medallion. It was a family seal of some sort. "You don't recognize this, do you?" His eyes darted about and he glanced at her with hopeful uncertainly.
A small dark girl mirrored him from the other side, nearly tripping over her feet. "Your hat is really cool," she said to Ysilla. "You know I have a pretty neat hat too. So, what are you doing here?" It all tumbled out as if she was afraid she wouldn't have time to finish.
The ones who weren't ambulant generally seemed to hold back, less able to dart or slip by, but enough of a gap in the perimeter opened itself up when a couple of guards had to deal with two preteens fighting that a girl perhaps just a couple of years younger than most of the students was able to wheel herself through. She had long, straight black hair and dusky bluish eyes. Something about her looked... vaguely familiar, perhaps. "You're one of us," she said to Jocasta, stopping herself and looking at the older girl unflinchingly. "They're gonna send everyone back now. We'll talk later." With some effort, she started to turn, but nearly ended up running over a lanky boy with a mop of unruly blonde hair. She paused and simply backed up. "It's Marceline," she said quietly and then, more loudly and with some snark and weariness in her tone after a caretaker snapped at her to back up some more, "And they're firing the gun in three... two..."
There was a wheel-lock pistol raised in the air by a caretaker and, presently, it discharged itself with a puff of smoke. A tall, stern man in rich robes marched forward and sonic magic amplified his voice. "It is well past curfew for anyone under sixteen," he commanded in Avincian, repeating himself in Torragonese. "Come now: you know this. The desert is harsh and these travelers encountered some wildlife. You are to return to your rooms or tomorrow's recreation time will have to be canceled!"
"Oh nooo," a couple of the group members close to her might've heard Marceline snort, "What ever shall I do without recreation time?"
"Marcelina," warned the head caretaker, "a word." He motioned her over and with a hooded eyeroll, she made her way there. Meanwhile, the other five interlopers found their conversations interrupted, regardless of what point they were at. Ayla's apologized and ducked away, glancing back at her and then warily at the head caretaker. Yalen's was picked up from behind and gently chided. Kaspar's ran-hobbled away, eyes darting about guiltily, and Ysilla's was scolded and shooed off. Zarina's, however, was roughly yanked by his collar and yelled at. "You are not to sell things to visitors, Abdel! You know that!"
"I wasn't selling," he protested and, for a moment, the preteen's eyes flared dangerously, but then he shrunk back, stumbling and dropping his cane. He bent over to pick it up and, unseen by the caretaker, slipped the brooch quickly up his sleeve as well. "I'm going." He tottered quickly away, throwing a look over his shoulder.
The crowd in the entrance plaza cleared quickly and all that was left before long were a handful of guards, a caretaker or two bustling about, the Head Caretaker, and Marceline. It was the second last of these who addressed the six students. "Ahh, visitors!" He spread his arms in front of him in a welcoming gesture. "My name is Tavio Ortega, and I'm the Warden here. I welcome you and I would like to apologize for the somewhat... chaotic introduction." His voice was a rich Torragonese lilt, possessed of a natural friendliness that was disarming. When one or two members of the party seemed about to dispute that, they found themselves pierced by Jocasta's warning glare. "Sadly," the Warden continued, "we don't have many... experiences with non-residents out here." He frowned, glancing back at some of the dormitory areas, and his voice turned regretful. "Poor kids get too excited and then I need to be an ogre, I fear: threatening punishment." Then he clapped, suddenly businesslike, and pivoted on a heel. "But you'll have the chance to see them at a more appropriate hour tomorrow." He was smiling now and he began walking. "After we discuss your mission, of course. I received notice that you'd be coming to help us deal with our... problem." He furrowed his brow.
Marceline took a moment to release the small pegs that acted as her wheeled-chair's brakes. Similar to Jocasta's, it was a light wicker and rattan construction, with a low back, bluish cushion, and slim wooden spoked wheels. Her feet sat on a simple footrest flanked by large casters to either side. With a couple of big pushes, she caught up to the others. "Not to be rude," she butted in, "but it's going to be a really big problem if that Sand Wyrm finds the aberration. It was impressive how you six distracted it -" she twisted awkwardly to regard them "- but if it gets to there..." She trailed off for a moment as the seven figures followed the warden and he clasped his hands indulgently behind his back. "A few halassa is one matter," she concluded, "even a froabas or a rino blindado, but that thing..."
"Ah yes," the warden acknowledged, "this is Marcelina. She has been with us for... four years now, is it, dear child?"
"Yes, four," she said, businesslike, and there may have been a hint of Kerreman in her accent. "Warden Ortega, we need to get out there and do something about that aberration as soon as possible. If the Wyrm reaches it -"
He held up a hand for silence as they headed up a ramp. People cleared the way for her and Jocasta. "Keep your voice down, dear. You know we don't want to alarm the others. They have such stress as it is."
"Sorry..." she grated, reaching the top with far less grace than Jocasta. "It is not a problem," replied the Warden. "Now, as for our guests, can't you see that they are exhausted?" He glanced at them and then, admonishingly, at Marceline. "I can tell that they are brave and capable people, but even such individuals need a nice warm bath, a good night's sleep, and some new clothes and supplies before setting out in the morning." He addressed the six with a clapped clasp of his hands. "I am having rooms made up for you now. I am sure you are eager to get on with it. We will have a briefing at 3:00 HS in the morning and I will tell you everything that I know about the situation." He paused and turned to face them. Marceline came to a clumsy stop and turned as well. "Marci, you're still on four. Why are you in a chair?"
"Apologies, Warden Ortega. My knees are getting worse and I thought I should practice. Plus, I wanted to hurry out and didn't have time to put on my braces."
He nodded. "Marcelina will show you to your rooms." He rested a couple of fingers on the younger teen's shoulder for a second, a fatherly smile peeking out from beneath the bristles of his great mustache. "You're in a row beside each other. I'm having baths filled for you all." He fished a loop of keys from his belt and tossed them gently to his assistant. "On behalf of all of us here, I cannot thank you enough for coming and agreeing to help us. We are... not so well-equipped to deal with threats of this nature and they've been becoming... more common as of late." He smiled tightly, clasped his hands once more in thanks, and bowed slightly at the waist before making his exit. The six found themselves within a ground floor colonnade, the upper floor's own covered balcony and colonnade making up the roof above their heads. Crickets chirped, the moons shone, and the plaza's central fountain splashed somewhere off behind them. In the near distance were six flickering oil lanterns, one by each doorway. Marceline glanced down at the keys in her lap and then, excusing herself, pushed her way to the front of the group. "I suppose you can guess where it is," she said wryly. "If you'll follow me..."
LOCATION: Torragonese Desert INTERACTIONS: Ayla @Ti, Various @Force and Fury
Kaspar could feel the way his heart sped up as the sand wyrm barreled ever closer. The boy had never been particularly religious, but felt his mind grasping for anything to pray to, any being that might see fit to spare the collection of individuals waiting with bated breath.
He didn’t want to die. Despite all the things he was forbidden to speak of, every harsh lesson that his future hinged upon… He didn’t wish to leave it behind. Gods, he had parents who loved him, and how few people could say the same? He had a home to return to, a family and a place within this world. The threads of his fate did not wish to be cut short.
Fuck. Fuck.
Kaspar swallowed down the curses that wanted to spill from his lips, pressing against his tongue and pleading to be released. It would do nothing for them now, not as their massive adversary closed the distance with frightening speed. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but the boy knew he couldn’t risk the safety of his team with such cowardice. The only thing left to do was hope, to cling to the faith that their plan could save them.
The sand closed in. Granules washed over him, the trembling of the ground leaving the noble sure that he would sink right in, swallowed by the earth. He felt it spray over his face and suck at his legs, uncertain for a moment if this was how death should feel, large and shaking with a fear that seemed to sap the marrow from his very bones.
But the wave of sand moved on, the agonizing eighty-some feet of wyrm certainly giving them time enough to contemplate. The shaking would lessen, until the ground stopped moving altogether as the beast burrowed off in the distance, following the low thrum of a giant tuning fork. Kaspar was alive to see the stillness of the dunes and his companions around him, buried and frightened but not beyond this world.
His knees gave out, and the boy would have collapsed onto his hands if he were not so buried. As it was, he fell backward into a seated position, as though he were sitting at a table, palms scraping into the surface behind him. He let out a noise of disbelief, glancing toward the whooping Jocasta, mouth half-open in awe. Kaspar had felt more emotions in the past few moments than he thought he ever had—he could feel the itch of the sand against his awareness, something in his body begging to draw in mana, to combat whatever had deserved such a surge of adrenaline.
He gave in, destroying small bits of sand around him and ignoring the soft kiss of pain against the heels of his hands as a smattering of cells were taken, leaving something akin to rug burn on the now-tender skin. The red-eyed boy sucked in a deep breath, exhaling with a watery chuckle, and finally began to take stock of his faculties.
He’d been so happy to have such high-cut boots, excellent for keeping the sand out—and they were buried past the tops now, filled with the pesky material that shifted uncomfortably against his feet. He tugged, feeling resistance in the weight of the grain, and began to work one leg in a circular motion, dragging it gently from the avalanche before applying a similar tactic to the other.
Kaspar glanced to Jocasta, who was now offering praise to the lioness who had saved their hides. He nodded in agreement, still too breathless to talk, but felt the gratitude well up in his chest nonetheless. Then the chair-bound girl offered some advice, arguing against confronting these so-called caretakers—and he had to admit it was intelligent. He was no stranger to stoicism, but could understand the indignance they might feel in this “refuge”, and the way some of his teammates may want to tackle it head-on.
Pushing to his feet, the Elstrøm resolved to compartmentalize, first getting the resources they would need. He breathed out steadily, visualizing the draining of any latent emotion with the carbon dioxide and inhaling only clean air and staunch focus.
LOCATION: The Refuge
The presence of so many individuals put Kaspar on high alert. With the curious peering and murmuring of children, the boy actually slipped toward the back of the group, shuffling until he was somewhat hidden behind Ayla. Caretakers were yelling in at least two languages, though their charges did not seem to care much for listening—something the noble could understand.
Several small forms managed to break through the ranks of adults, approaching their sand-riddled pack with wide eyes and high voices. One in particular stumbled up to Kaspar, his face echoing the uncertainty the red-eyed boy felt as the child began to speak. ”Are you guys like… Here to pick up anyone... or something?”
He felt a pang in his chest and dropped to a knee beside the child, trying to hear his next words—and failing, with the cacophony of voices around them. His mouth opened and shut several times, trying to decide how one was supposed to talk to a child and offer hope without offering lies. He thought of what his father would do, how the marquis could be reassuring but honest, and tried to channel confidence into his voice as he finally replied softly, "I… I’m not sure. But we are here to help."
This didn’t seem to assuage the child’s nervousness, and Kaspar grasped for anything else that might help—and remembered his conversation with Zarina. He held up a closed hand, assembling a small marble in it, and opened the fingers to reveal the swirled pattern in the orb of glass. He waved a hand over it, trying to capture the child’s fascination.
It was then that the warden barked more orders, and his audience seemed set to flee. "Here!" Kaspar called as the boy began to turn, grabbing his hand and pressing the marble into his palm. "Keep this—it’s very special." The child, nervous and mumbling, seemed unsure what to make of the gift as he ran-hobbled back from the students, disappearing into the crowd of other individuals. Kaspar stared after him for a moment, feeling another unwelcome surge of emotions and reflections on life as one of the unwanted—and then seemed to realize he was still kneeling, and straightened quickly, clearing his throat and setting his jaw.
As Warden Ortega began to speak, the noble remained silent and studious. He would not need to be silenced by any of Jocasta’s glares, opting instead to note what information was being offered and, perhaps more importantly, what wasn’t. The man put on a friendly enough air, but Kaspar felt suddenly like a member of some inspection, an individual who was provided an act so everything seemed alright. Knowing what they’d heard from Jocasta, he would not be surprised to know this was the case.
It was Marceline that more readily caught his attention—and he felt she had some rather prudent points to be made. The aberration was their main concern, and the sand wyrm was deadly enough without it—who knows what could happen in the hours they might spend sleeping. Yet, it seemed they would be without a choice, unless the students wanted to slip out in the night without further consulting the refuge.
He watched the interactions between the warden and Marceline—the reluctant deferment, and the way he seemed to try and overtake her in the conversation, discounting her arguments and instead pressing for the comfort of the individuals who were supposed to be solving a significant issue. The way his fingers rested on her shoulder for a moment, Kaspar wondering what weight they held—punishment? A threat? A reminder of the power he was supposed to hold? Coupled with the grin that split beneath the mustache, the Helbanese boy felt his own skin crawl in the moment, as though a phantom hand pressed upon his shoulder too.
But the moment was gone, and the warden walking off and leaving this Marceline to see to their guests—hypocritical of him, in Kaspar’s eyes, to speak so much of their comfort and not see to it himself. Though, in truth, he was glad the man was gone, and glad to be getting a chance for sleep. Unless any of his companions voiced an opposition, he would simply follow, crimson gaze scanning the lanterns that seemed to be lit and awaiting their arrival.
Enhanced by kinetic magic, mild as it was, Carmillia had arrived on the scene in a matter of moments. And yet, the fight that she had mentally prepared herself for was already over. All that lay in front of her was the aftermath of a battle. Aside from Zarra and Eun-ji, there were five that she did not recognize. Two formally dressed men, presumably guards, were alive but incapicitated. Another was dead, a metal spear gruesomely sticking out his neck. Dressed similarly to the dead man was another, hunkered down at a corner. He was still conscious but clearly dazed. Carmillia wagered it had to with the earlier explosion of light and sound. She couldn't get a clear look at the last person, who was hiding behind a fallen table.
She silently thanked the fact her teammates were capable in battle. As much as Carmillia enjoyed her past escapades of brutality, they were always in controlled situations alongside the backup of The Crimson Hand. Getting into a gifted fight with agents of the Traveler was far down in her priority list.
Keeping half her gaze on the remaining enemy, she addressed the Tan Keoulian. "Where's Zarra? No, nevermind. There was trouble back at the upper deck. We were unable to stop the riot." Ignoring the fact she was far more interested in going after Leon and the Lyre, she quickly started giving a run down on the events that had transpired. She was midway through explaining how she had come to seek aid to save Dorothea when she noticed the sound of approaching footsteps.
It seemed like surprises were a recurring theme aboard the Lorentine Queen.
Four were fast approaching them through the corridor. Further back were Manfred and Dorothea. He must have saved her, she thought. She didn't recognise the two in front, though they were dressed differently from the Traveler's agents. A disguise, perhaps? No... They were dressed similarly to the guards she had seen earlier, though with more regality. Mages. Given that weren't poised to attack but rather walking with a purpose and that they were both Feskan, they were likely part of the ship personale come to investigate.
This was bothersome. Their mission from Ersand'Enise was incognito which made it hard to explain the scene of carnage behind them.
It was then that Carmillia noticed Dorothea drawing her pistol. She initially believed the Feskan girl must have mistook the two mages as enemies but quickly realized that Dorothea was aiming at her. Shunedammit, what in the Pentad is she doing now?
She was muttering something but was too far away for Carmillia to make out her words. Nevertheless, Carmillia was able to put two and two together after getting a better look at Dorothea's deranged expression.
She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palm till it drew blood. This. Is. Why. This is why you don't take these type of gambles. She reproached herself. Ever since she had come to Ersand'Enise, she had kept herself in the seat of control. She never relied on uncertainties. She always took precaution. Didn't touch the aberration that spawned by her bed. Even with Leon, she had taken her time to assess his potential benefits, his true worth, before considering him as one of her pieces on the chessboard. But with Dorothea, she had been shortsighted due to the allure of taking the easy path to the Lyre. Where had that gotten her?
The Feskan girl had stomped all over their original plans. She had partaken in the insanity of absorbing an aberration and stirred up an uncontrollable riot. Now it was clear she believed Carmillia had betrayed her and was out for blood. What was I supposed to do? Save you by jumping into the middle of a riotyoustirred up? You should be thankful that the horndog of a Kerreman came to your aid so quickly.
Though she doubted Manfred would let her take the shot, Carmillia sidestepped to position herself behind the Tan Keoulian girl. "It appears there seems to be a misunderstanding."
When the mist dissipated from the ocean, Onarr found himself paddling wildly in the water just to keep his head above. He gradually pulled himself out, letting magnetic energy flow out of his palms as he bobbed gently above the surf. Onarr looked around, hissing to cradle his dislocated arm. The force of the explosion was so powerful that he could hear the sound of fish colliding with the ocean’s surface every so often. Still panting, he continued to gaze around dazedly, wondering where the kinetic mage was. She was nowhere to be seen or perhaps, was making herself unseen. Onarr looked around the endless expanse and then looked below. An average person could hold their breath underwater for 90 seconds, more if they were untrained. If the individual was trained in the military, then -
Onarr felt as though someone smashed a sledgehammer in the back of his head as he was shoved roughly into the water. He didn’t have time to hold his breath in before a hand lifted him out. Onarr saw through his frenzied gasping that she was floating on a ball of water and quickly surmised that that was how she dodged the explosion. It wasn’t without cost, though. He could see that her right eye was pulped, rivers of blood gushing out from the socket, and that the brigandine that covered her body was torn apart. Her ankle was also twisted in the opposite direction.
“ That was a neat little surprise you pulled there, joruban,” The kinetic mage squeezed his throat tightly with a sadistic smile “ But your journey ends here. Out of respect, I’ll make your death quick.”
“ Please don’t do this,” Onarr pleaded, grunting underneath her grip as she began to dance her fingers around his chest. “ Please don’t make me do this.”
Onarr felt the brush of her kinetic energy begin to slow down his heart and panicked, thrashing in her firm grip. His mind raced for possibilities yet there was only one left. He closed his eyes and with the last dredges of every charge in his body, pushed it all into the only thing near his body which could absorb it. Unfortunately for the kinetic mage, she just so happened to be the perfect conductor. The kinetic mage’s eyes widened as her arms became frozen and her face became transfixed into a rictus of a smile. The bubble of water collapsed underneath her and she splashed down into the surf, the water swallowing her features. Onarr saw her body slowly fading in the darkness of the ocean’s depth, bubbles floating up from her wake.
It would take a minute for her to asphyxiate and another minute before her brain would completely shut down. Onarr couldn’t stop the facts from appearing in his mind as he watched the waves listlessly but he did.
It took an agonising five minutes to crawl all the way back to shore. Onarr limped onto the sand, seeing Benedetto and Ingrid engaged in a furious conversation with the latter looking livid. When he was within throwing distance of them, he gave a half-hearted wave.
“ Anyone know binding magic?” He let his broken arm hang for a second before nursing it back up with his other. “ I’d rather not have to get amputated and become drawn into the world of piracy at such a young age.”
Felt her heart drop a moment when the refuge started ringing its bells and causing a commotion. She didn’t factor the actions of the others into this, and when the creature bore upon them, she wished this oversight didn’t cost them so dearly. She remembered playing wargames on the table top with her brother Jorge, usually at this moment, he would start mocking her as she routed her troops at the last moment in order to spare their lives unsuccessfully. He used to chide her for her response, finding the battles too easy, “Stay on target”, he used to say, “In these moments, you do and or die. You are committed to the outcome”. Whilst the caretakers managed to survive the Wyrm, she was not the sacrifice she was wanting to make, definitely not for them. She knew there was nothing she could do, if she panicked, if she fled, it would ruin everything, the only way for this plan to work was to commit. She closed her eyes, clenching her body, holding it tight.
Ayla started to hear shouting and screams, oh no, they have failed, they are dying around her… "Did you see that!?" she heard Jocasta, "Ayla, you're a genius!". She opened her eyes as she saw the Sand Wyrm heading off after the thumper. Almost passed out after the relief, “Too much excitement…”. She takes a moment to get herself ready, hopefully supported out of her situation.
Zarina noticed the little musician had exerted herself quite a bit, as did quite a few others. The congratulatory celebration, prompted by Jocasta, brought the tall Virangish girl to confer special attention to the orchestrator of the initiative they had just taken. Without much warning, she swooped in to duck and nab the little lion on her shoulders to lift her up, "There she is!" she called out joyously, clearly not as tired as the others, "The lady of the hour. Let those little legs rest." She then turned her head toward Yalen, "I can also give piggy-backs." she winked. Ayla tried her best to mask her own exhaustion but was thankful that Zaz’s typical boisterousness provided the cover she needed.
As they approached the refuge, she could hear the concerns of the treatment here that were raised. “They will be very welcoming”, she said to Jocasta for reassurance, or my father would be having stern words, she thought.
As they came upon the gates, the children were excited to greet them. She was reminded of the streets of Varrahasta when… she pauses for a moment as she reaches into her handbag, bringing out a handful of Mangomichas, sweets which are pieces of dry mango coated lightly in chilli powder to preserve them. She held out her hands, offering the tethered children the delicious treats as they flocked around her, before dispersing to greet the others in the group.
Ayla smiles widely as she looks up towards the girl that came to meet her, who looked rather similar to her, but taller. She takes her hand, nodding as she allows her to speak in her excitement. “You said a lot, but Ayla wanted to hear your name”, she chides her in a playful manner, “Most important thing is to make sure everyone knows who you are”. She continues her pleasant small talk with the girl before they are interrupted with the arrival and pistol shot of the warden.
Ayla speaks up after the warden as he starts instructing the children to leave them alone and head off to their beds, “Thank you all for your warm welcome, we are pleased to be greeted by such hospitality as you welcome us into your home. We have important work here in the morning and you have earned yourselves a good rest. I am sure the Warden will allow us time from your duties to assist us if you make haste to your rooms.” She could imagine the face behind her as she watches the little ones scurry off to their bedrooms for a good night rest. When they are gone, she simply turns around with a light smile, “The taste of carrot is sweeter than the stick”. After the rundown of the evening plans, including opportunity for bath and bed, she followed the lead of their guide, Marcelina. From the girls interactions, she has already taking a liking to her.
They survived! Yay! Piggy back ride to Refuge from Zaz. Interacted with Tethered girl, Laella. Importance of her making herself known. Used carrot - promise of speaking with the tethered tomorrow.
The pounding of her own heart was headache-inducing. There was so much noise coming from the growing tremors and the inevitable sounds of a famished beast coming close–all she could really hear was her own heart. Some prayed, some wanted to cower, and yet despite Zarina’s own values and attachments, the only thing that ran in her mind as she held her one-legged position was what to do when the plan failed. And given how close the monstrosity was, it appeared to be an almost guaranteed alternative.
Zarina was just about ready to intervene and improvise a last stand to salvage what she could of her team when the Wyrm just … Turn the other way? The plan worked. It worked and Zarina could now breathe, because she had just realised she was holding her breath during her standstill. A loud exhale along with a few coughs were allowed to come out as she stumbled to get her footing again. Sweat quickly accumulated all of a sudden, as if she had just done a long jog under the sun and only now had the watery aftermath. Especially on her back–it was particularly unpleasant.
”Oh. Shit.” the whole team had this moment of grand relief, and Jocasta was one of the first to downright celebrate, ”Oh SHIT.” she nodded repeatedly, ”YEAAAAH BITCH!” she wailed now that the Wyrm was quite a ways away, taken by the moment and acting like some frat boy that beat some lifting record. The adrenaline of victory was so great, she even approached Yalen and presented her hand for a High-five, which she would deliver with quite the smack, ”Yeaaaahhhh!”
Alright, it was time to cool down, Jocasta was right and they had to go. Although as they began to move, Zarina noticed the little musician had exerted herself quite a bit, as did quite a few others. The tall Virangish girl conferred special attention to the orchestrator of the initiative they had just taken. Without much warning, she swooped in to duck and nab the little lion on her shoulders to lift her up, ”There she is! ”she called out joyously, clearly not as tired as the others, "The lady of the hour. Let those little legs rest." She then turned her head toward Yalen, "I can also give piggy-backs." she winked.
During their final trek, Zarina was playing steed for the worn out little lioness. Looking over to the side, she took notice of her own sister–the person she had seemingly avoided for a while. She still didn’t speak, but when their gazes would cross, she conspicuously smiled toward Ysilla before facing forward to the Tethered Refuge.
Location: Tethered Refuge
They had made it, and the venerated lion was made to dismount now. The Refuge greeted them, and while not with the most open of arms, the little ones treated the visitors as better than the highest born of nobles. Needless to say, the sight of this many kids eager to see Zarina made the teen grin ear to ear. Without a shred of reservation, she stepped before the group of young folks, arms opened invitingly, ”Hello Refuge-Starlings! Did you like the show?” and then her hands came together in a clap, ”That Wyrm back there? Stood NO chance against our Great Mane Manoeuvre!” Ayla got a very conspicuous glance from the flamboyant Zarina.
She went on to add some spice to the events that unfolded, making it digestible for kids in the process, ”And so a Legendary Spear was made from the very sands of- Hmm?” a young boy came to her, and addressed her in her mother tongue. Whether it was her appearance, getup or thick accent in Avincian, she had been made as a Virangish, ”Gonna have to give me a moment, lovelies.” Abdel was given her full attention, scooting a bit away from the grouping youths, she’d lower herself and knelt with one knee to get at his level, ”Hmmm.” she squinted at the trinket, even reaching out touch it, ”*Azunu …”
Looking over her shoulder, Zarina’s jovial and high-energy demeanour had completely changed–the realisation of what was going on here hit her. There was no need to let the caretakers know of anything. But just as she was about to provide an answer, the young lad was downright yanked from the collar. ”The F-” her voice grew very quickly and simultaneously to her ascension, however she stopped herself very quickly The Fuck are you interrupting my discussion, Asshole? would have been her full response in a scenario far closer to home. And then potential violence.
But she knew better, Jocasta being the first she’d look at when reconsidering things, ”It’s fine.” she exhaled from her nose, with Kaspar giving her an idea, ”I was just showing him a trick.” in her hand, she morphed some of the residue sand all over her into a small, glass emerald she flicked over at the not-so-well treated boy. Lips pursed, she gave a final glance that showed nothing but uncertainty and concern to the boy he looked back.
Then came the Warden, or at least he introduced himself as that, ”Warden.” she replied with her arms crossed and a mere, curt nod. It’d be hard to tell if it was merely a polite recognition, or a remark. Either way, she kept herself discreet during the mini-tour and took in what both the establishment’s head and the recently introduced Marceline had to say. All the while, Zarina kept particular attention to Jocasta. The little things she had already begun to notice were only reinforcing the potential concerns she may have.
With the rundown given and ‘Marcelina’ attributing them their rooms, Zarina lazily waved at the Warden, ”It’s what we do.” with a just as passive and uninspired response. It seemed many things were on her mind and her distraction was made quite apparent. ”And where do you sleep, Marcelina? And everyone else?” she asked, chin nudging forward and eyebrows raised. There were no caretakers too close-- she was paying close attention to that too.
They stood there: six of them triumphant. One was dead for certain and two were missing. The ground was littered with bodies and parts of bodies. Ingrid had sucked the flames dry once but residual heat had reignited them and and a few still guttered in the ruins of buildings. People huddled together and cried, looking upon the alien youths with fear and barely-concealed reproach.
Trypano spoke up, giving instructions to Ismette, perhaps knowingly. "Given the destruction we've drawn more than our fair share of attention from the majority of the island. Perhaps you and Benedetto should go de-incentivize any gathering pirate crews from interfering further in our work." Yet, many of the people who shrunk back in fear, who sobbed over burnt houses and dead bodies, were not pirates. A town like this needed other sorts to run as well and even pirates were people, after all. Ismette looked at them uncertainly.
Indeed, the group looked about to tear itself apart. Nerio backed away, uncomfortable, begging his leave to go see to his crew. Desmond, meanwhile, turned angrily on Benedetto for the latter's mockery of the dead and spat angry words at him. He was joined, after a moment by Ingrid. "You should be respectful to the dead Benedetto. If not for your enemies then at least for your allies. Speaking ill of the deceased only lowers you to that of a scoundrel and you are not that."
There was a pause and a palpable silence, for all knew that to play with Benedetto was to play with Eshiran himself. His power was of a truly inhuman nature. Slowly, he turned to them with dead eyes, his face a paper mask, his head slightly tilted.
"And what do you know of death, mercenary?" There was a bitter, raspy chuckle. "What good is it to speak words over a body once it's dead? What comfort is it to the people whose lives we've destroyed?" He gestured at the wreckage. "Whose loved ones we've killed? Will it change how Eshiran takes them?" He turned to Ingrid with the same cold, pained, dead look. "And you, you don't think I'm better than that, so speak truth or shut the fuck up. You think I'm an animal." For a moment, a sort of dark glee flashed through his eyes. "You think you're better than me 'cause you pump your deeds full of righteous words and 'respect' and prayer to Gods that don't exist." He took a step towards the others and his face was hard. "That's where we're different. Life is struggle and violence. The strong step over the weak. Some do it with swords and magic fire, but most do it with words and laws and that fucking faith that lets them put their boot on your neck while you just take it!" His eyes flashed and it was clear that he was bubbling beneath the surface. "I know I'm an animal and I'm proud to be one. I take what pleasure I can. I laugh at death before it can laugh at me, and I never," he snarled, "let anyone or anything put their boot on my neck. Never again."
He went still and there was a buildup of energy so sudden and fantastic that it seemed almost a dream. "You wanna do something for these people? Shove your 'respect'. Lift the rubble. Put out the fires. Heal their wounded so some other rich fuck can come along and kill them someday. See if I care." When they looked up, great mounds of splintered wood, stone, and plaster hovered above them. These were set down roughly on the ground and the first raindrops began to fall. They fell fast and Benedetto's energy faded. He stood there, chest heaving in the rain as the stray fires winked out and steam rose. "She was weak," he pronounced of Wvysen, turning to glance her way. "Good, but weak, and now she's this." He gestured at her body and shook his head tightly. Turning back to the others, his words were cold. "She never should've been here. Neither should most of you. Those people you killed were defending their home. That princess you protect is no hero: no victim. You're just too stupid to see it." For a moment, he glared at her prone form, but he turned his eyes back on the others. "Now go play-act at being heroes somewhere else," he sneered. "I'm not saving you again." With a crackle of energy, Benedetto rocketed off into the night sky, streaking away like a comet.
Whatever their reactions to Benedetto may have been, these were not allowed to play out. A small, weakened voice called to them from shore, where Onarr was waving and asking for assistance. At almost the same moment, Princess Amelia stirred and sat up, rubbing her neck as the massive spongy cushion began to deflate. "Eshiran," she cursed, "Thank you for saving me. I swore I wouldn't be that sort of princess... What'd I miss?" Then, she saw Wvysen and her eyes widened. She crossed herself. "Oraff-Zept! Is everyone okay!?" She started to clamber off, pulling kinetic energy as she went. "They did this: the Maria Nera's crew! I recognize that one." She pointed to the Chemical mage and her voice rose in righteous anger. She freed herself from the cushion and stood, still a bit woozy, but face full of steely determination. "I know where they hide, those bastards. We need to find them before they cause any more harm."
If the aftermath of their life-or-death struggle had been frustrating, sobering, and desperate, the group now had a decision to make. They would likely need all of the strength that they could muster to fight the Nera's crew if that was indeed what they desired to do. Yet Penny remained missing and Onarr was in need of not-insignificant healing. While Benedetto's rain had drenched the fires, there remained a severe human toll and now Nerio was nowhere to be seen, perhaps seeing to his crew. Ismette looked at the others uncertainly. "I would... rather not use my magic to harm," she said quietly, "but I can... help with whatever else you need."
Meanwhile, on a beach far but not so far away, a young woman lay unconscious in the sand, covered in soot and blood. Some fifty meters distant from her, gouts of black smoke rose into the night sky and a stout building lay in ruins, decorated with bodies and guttering flames. A ship, just around a rocky head of land, groaned in a sheltered cove, and people began swarming out of it like ants: furious ants.
Fear and reproach. Such were the feelings the public usually held towards her. She was accustomed to being stared at by people in this way, her eyes drifting from the princess to the gathered crowd nearby that huddled in their shelters like frightened animals. The only difference from now and back then was that back then she was just a child, no more powerful than any other. Now, she was...
_ Ultimately, it didn't matter. Wvysen was dead all the same. No good was born from arguing as to whether or not to respect her corpse. The memories they still held of her would remain the same no matter what morbid state of decomposition would ultimately hold over this cessation of tissue and mind. Alas, the group bickered. If she were to be honest she half agreed with Benedetto's sentiment, even if it was garbled through the mind-frame of an overgrown child holding a tantrum. They were not here to bring peace or do good on this island, they were here to retrieve a hostage and a holy artifact. That was it.
Still, Trypano wanted to keep the body count down to a minimum as revelling in excess carnage would not only be pointlessly sadistic but waste more time they could be spending getting this mission over with so they could return to ultimately more important endeavors. Just as it is in surgery the longer they spend in executing this mission the worse their situation will become. The element of stealth was gone, the knife has plunged. Their only choice was to operate quick before more life is lost.
Her attention snapped to the princess as she came to, taking note of Onarr's distant cries as well. Her input was important as they needed to find out where the crew of the Maria Nera was situation, the more details the better.
"Tell us what you know about them while I mend our remaining member. We can plan our approach at the same time."
Not one to cool her heels for long she started towards the beach. She glanced back over to their fallen colleague. It was a shame really: They were the only person who knew what had become of Penny. Now they were going to have to search for her on a cold track. Still, if what she suspected was true then odds are they weren't going to have to look far from their main target in order to find her too. For better or for worse. She stopped a moment to address Ismette's concerns.
"Don't worry, there will be plenty of need for your skills outside of direct combat. With Benedetto gone we have one less reason to split up. While I tend to our colleague there the princess can brief us on her kidnappers and where they are staying so we can come up with a plan for retrieving the item we came for. Killing the captain is optional, leaving without the item and the princess is not... At least, not unless we are faced with almost certain failure and must escape with our loses, such as they are."
She motioned for the remainder of her colleagues to follow as she started for the beach once more to go fix the injuries Onarr sustained.
"Come. Let us not let their deaths go in vain."
Times of urgency rewarded the cold, the precise and the driven. She was all three and she needed the rest to be so too if they were to stand any chance of succeeding without further casualties.
The most dangerous of all the mages present had been slain, impaled by the sharp end of a makeshift javelin made by Zarra using the pipe he stole from the engine room. Zealous might have been a Blood mage, but even one of his kind remained vulnerable to rapid exsanguination. Still, two adversaries remained for the team to overcome, and things had just been made more complex with the arrival of more unexpected complications: Internal conflict sparked between supposed comrades. Dory, feeling that she had been betrayed, was aiming her gun right at Carmillia. And then, Hilde Arnsberg von Regensbach and Jens Becker von Magdeburg. Two of the four Arcane mages assigned to work the engine of the boat and with the protection of the cargo hold, witnessing all of these transpire in front of their eyes.
Evidently, the team were not out of the fire just yet, and things may very well still turn for the worse.
One of the Arcane mages, Hilde, took on the initiative. She strode forward followed by her fellow Arcanist, warily passing Eun-Ji and Carmillia to take a peek into the room. This elicited a barely repressed gasp from the middle aged Feskan woman, who then swiftly turned around to address the students present in the vicinity. Seeing the significant differences of heritage among them, she defaulted to speaking in Avincian; hoping, correctly, that they will all be able to understand her. "What happened here? Who are you people and what are you doing here? Answer, truthfully. Please." her last word were said with an emphasis that made it very clear that she will not hesitate to take serious actions nor will she tolerate any mishap. Jens Becker von Magdeburg, keeping silent with a grave frown on his face, were similarly ready to act.
This all happened before Eun-Ji could even comment on Camillia's announcement that the repression of the riot had failed. She understood very well the volatility of the situation. Three things all needing immediate attention: The remaining traveler agents that were likely to recover very soon, the inquiry by the Feskan mage, and a mad-looking Dory aiming her gun at Carmillia with serious intent to harm or even kill. Meanwhile, Zarra had disappeared by performing his Greyborn trick again and Leon was still nowhere in sight.
A split second later, she made her decision. With a calm expression, Eun-Ji looked straight at Manfred's eyes. Then, briefly flicked her gaze to Dory before looking at Manfred again. It was subtle, yet she can only hope that it will be enough for the Kerreman youth to understand that she were asking him to stop Dory from doing anything rash. With that, she turned her head to look at Hilde while allowing Carmillia to continue taking cover behind her. "I believe those mages inside tried to force entry into the cargo hold, miss. We saw them attacking those guards that are lying in there, attempting to kill them. We, in turn, attempted to aid the guards to stop those mages." Replying also in Avincian, she said her words while maintaining her usual politeness and calmness, adding a respectful nod at the significantly older woman to her motion.
"That so." Hilde responded shortly. Eun-Ji's words were the truth, but she had no guarantee that Hilde and Jens will believe her. The Feskan woman began to contemplate her words while maintaining her cautious demeanor, taking a sweeping look at each of them until her gaze landed on Dory. She frowned. "If you spoke the truth... Then, what of those two?"
It was not a good look for Dory and by extension Manfred. After all, if Eun-Ji and Carmillia helped with fighting off the supposed robber mages, then Dory pointing a gun at Carmillia with obvious hostility made it seemed like she was a comrade of those robber mages. An unspoken understanding passed between the two Arcane mages and Jens Becker von Magdeburg took a few steps forward toward Dory and Manfred, his intense and severe gaze focused on Dory. "Don't do anything stupid, girl." he warned as he slowly and carefully continued his advance.
Before anything further can happen however, both the Arcane mages and the students can all feel a significant buildup of magical energies coming from the room beyond the doorway. A loud, furious shriek resounded through the area. Its origin being Evanescent, the Chemical mage that had stood back up. Pure fury transfixed on her visage, she glared murder at Eun-Ji and Carmillia. "You... You bastards killed him! H-he was my friend! OUR comrade!" she shouted in Perrench. "By the Traveler, you will pay for this, you insects!"
"Traveler's agents! So it's true!" shouted Hilde as she immediately reacted in return. She gave a brief but sharp look at Eun-Ji and Carmillia, as if telling them to prove that they were truly here to help with the defense of the cargo hold.
Immediately after, the agent launched her attacks. The table she were taking cover with before, significantly empowered with Kinetic magic, were flung at Carmillia, Eun-Ji, and indirectly also Hilde. Without letting up, Carmillia can also feel her vision going hazy along with a dreadful sense of nausea assaulting her from within; very obviously the effect of Internal Chemical magic being done upon her. The other traveler agent, Forceful the Kinetic mage, had also returned to his feet. With a mighty shout, he jumped forward toward Carmillia and Eun-Ji, body empowered by Kinetic magic.
Hilde reached her right hand out in reaction, and the table were blown apart into two by a small but measured explosion, the two separated pieces flying pass Eun-Ji, Carmillia, and Hilde before each slamming with a loud thud to the walls.
Eun-Ji drew from the momentum created by the explosion itself, enhanced herself with Kinetic magic, and then disappeared in a blur. This was very quickly followed by a loud booming sound as her right feet collided with Forceful's left hand which he had used to shield himself. The two were then engaged in a battle between martial-focused Kinetic mages, each attempting to draw from the others' momentum while exchanging Kinetic-empowered strikes back and forth. Forceful focused his effort on attempting to grapple Eun-Ji, while Eun-Ji herself kept on the defensive while looking for an opening to thrust the dagger she held in her right hand at a fatal point, keeping to the principles of the Seun-Chi-Go style of martial art. Those perceptive or experienced enough in the arts of combat would notice that the flow of battle was slowly but surely swinging in favor of Eun-Ji as Forceful grew desperate with each and every one of his attacks being parried and misdirected by his much smaller yet far more agile opponent.
As for Zarra? Taking advantage of his nature as a Greyborn had allowed him to remain undetected by both allies and enemies in the chaos of the battle, both sides focusing on those targets that they were able to perceive instead of the one who had vanished out of corporeality. The situation was seemingly in his favor to act with the luxury of the element of surprise by his side.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to any of them, four more mages were engaged in battle. Seer and Firebrand, comrades of Evanescent and Forceful, had noticed Arne Voller von Meckelinburg-Kahler and Heinrich Wengeman von Glusdorf-Brandenstrass enroute to the cargo hold and had decided to stop them from meddling with the effort of their allies. Among the chaos of the riot, which had now spread throughout almost the entirety of the Middle Deck and even to the 1st Cabin Deck above, the four mages were engaged in a lethal dance of death where only two or one of them will walk out of with their lives...
Close from it all and yet at the same time removed from them, the world famous performer stood alone within the cargo hold. He can hear all of it, the chaos around him slowly spreading throughout the riverboat. Tonight might very well become known as the Last Voyage of the Lorentine Queen... And there he was, at the center of it all with the real reason; the object that had incited all these chaos. Once more, he was in a way the star of the show. Yet for now, he was without an audience in sight. It was fine, of course...
“Fantasia!”
...Because his show for the night had just about to truly began with the magic word uttered from his lips.
1. Eun-Ji: Engaged with Forceful within the room housing the trapdoor to the cargo hold. Seemingly getting the upper hand in a direct physical Kinetic-empowered duel against her opponent.
2. Carmillia: Standing at the doorway leading to the room. Assaulted by Evanescent's Internal Chemical magic that caused her to feel a very bad sense of nausea within herself while at the same time causing her vision to turn hazy.
3. Zarra: Phased out of corporeality. Not currently the focus of attention of neither allies nor enemies, he have the element of surprise to perform his next action.
4. Dory: With a mad look on her face, is aiming her gun at Carmillia. Jens Becker von Magdeburg is slowly approaching her.
5. Manfred: Standing with Dory. Eun-Ji subtly implored for him to make sure that Dory will not do anything rash. Action to be decided by Force and Fury.
6. Leon: Alone in the cargo hold. About to begin his own plan for the Lyre.
7. The 4 Arcane Mages: Currently, they look to be in a wary and uneasy alliance with the students. - Hilde Arnsberg von Regensbach: Used her specialization into explosive magic to perform a small but highly effective explosion to destroy the table thrown by Evanescent. - Jens Becker von Magdeburg: Slowly and carefully approaching Dory and Manfred with his focus being on Dory. His intention is actually to disarm her. - Arne Voller von Meckelinburg-Kahler and Heinrich Wengeman von Glusdorf-Brandenstrass: Outside, on the open air section of the Main Deck. Engaged in a lethal two-against-two duel with Seer and Firebrand.
8. The Traveler agents: - Evanescent the Internal Chemist: Threw a table at Carmillia, Eun-Ji, and Hilde using telekinesis, and then performed an Internal Chemical magic assault on Carmillia. - Forceful the Kinetic Mage: Engaged in a losing Kinetic magic duel against Eun-Ji. - Zealous the Blood Mage: Dead. Skewered on the neck with a makeshift javelin by Zarra. - Seer the Magnetic Mage & Firebrand the Arcane Illusionist: Outside, on the open air section of the Main Deck. Engaged in a lethal two-against-two duel with Seer and Firebrand.
9. Guards: Both the swordsman and the muscular guard are now unconscious. Seemingly still alive.
10. Rioters and Revelers: Currently engaging in a brutal chaotic brawl in and on much of the Main Deck and part of the 1st Cabin Deck. The spread of the chaos is gaining momentum.
*For more details on the Traveler Agents and the Four Arcane Mages, please check the Discord server under the Mission-HQ channel.
Desmond looked to Benedetto without so much as moving, his eyes always stayed upon his, as he looked to Benedetto as he snarled and sneered. Desmond looked to this child, one given the power to kill men far greater than himself in a brutal way, and thinks of himself as a saint of it. Speaking of Death like he was to the purveyor of it like he's the one to figure out what death was, what it meant to destroy. Desmond's face sneered at the mere idea that he even had to look at Benedetto and understand the sentiment of his ideas. He understood, that saying something over the body means nothing much, but to bring the dead back, to speak their names, and then spit on them, means that you do nothing but draw evil.
Desmond watched the child begin to lash out at everyone now, yelling at Ingrid, howling as he declares the meaning of Lifelike some Philosopher: Struggle and Violence. Of those 2, Desmond agreed with 1, Struggle, everyone must struggle, and that is all. Everything else Benny speaks out of his little head is nothing but ramblings, like that of a madman explaining himself. Desmond had anger in him, but it subsided, he was mentally calming himself as he looked at Benedetto with nothing but a face that of a blank page but eyes with fury. Even then that fury eventually softened, it was now to keep an act rather than to be his true emotions.
There was no need to stoop to his level, to drop to Benedetto's thinking would mean you paint him as the one in the right, and sully the very ideas of those that have died. None of them knew that the Storehouse had people in there, so for them, they didn't consciously know where they were. None of them were trained, so, this will weigh heavy, as all death does. Death will weigh heavy, yet they are unable to cry and feel sorry for themselves, they need to move forward. And make sure that they didn't die just for us to die and quit. They'd die in vain.
As Benedetto continued to spew his maddened ideals and morals, he just made Desmond annoyed, acting as if he was not immoral in comparison to them because they all killed, but at least he wasn't a hypocrite, like some madman trying to make himself better by digging under someone. Yet this madman had some true power, Benedetto lifted tons of material into the air: water from the sea, splintered and burned wood, and crumbled stone. Desmond would be in awe as he saw each of these things rise, but he was more focused on Benedetto, Desmond needed to know something, and it might come from the man who's been hiding everything. But in preparation, Desmond began lightly drawing from the energy around them, slowly with smooth and calm regard, just enough to fill but not enough to disturb things. Like a good ghost, you mustn't draw in more than you need, the moment you do it makes you a bigger target. Once Desmond had his fill, he was ready for if Benedetto would try anything.
As Benedetto spoke, Desmond began picking up on his tones, his cadence, his shifting and heaving breath like that of an unstable person. He was cracking under his own emotional outburst, and like most unstable people, they'll spill everything they hold within them. Like some rocking boat in the thick of the storm, their bow creaking and cracking letting loose bits and pieces, and their secrets would be laid bare to those who listen. And it seemed it was true as Benedetto spoke, he spoke of his thoughts freely, of what he'd think of them to do instead of just prancing around. Then he spoke of VVvysen, as it seemed as if a bit of his 'good' was there, something that allowed him to feel, he felt something thinking of her weakness. As he pivoted and continued, almost none of them should have been there, as he told a truth Desmond needed to know, these are not the pirates they were looking for. Those who attacked them were not of the Maria Nera. As Benedetto continued, Desmond's anger had finally lowered and nearly disappeared as he calmed himself to not allow himself to get swept up, as the moment Benedetto blasted off into the sky, Desmond knew the conversation was over.
He was able to hear a weak voice off in the distance, he tossed a glance to see Onarr and sighed, "At least he seems okay". Desmond looked to the rest of the group as he took in a breath and said, "We can't listen to Benedetto. He's a mad dog trying to make himself seem better by saying doing terrible shit makes you better than those who accidentally do things because then you are the only one who knows what they are doing". Desmond sighed as he then continued, "We can't change things now, but if we wallow here then we will die here. Penny is out there, and God knows what's happening to her as we sit here and wallow. If we just sit here and let his madness get to us, we are no better than hypocrites and fools. Leaving those who have passed to be lost in vain, and leaving one of our people to die". Desmond could see a few were shaken, so he hoped that something to help them cut through the noise was enough.
As Ismette spoke up Desmond gave her a nod and said, "That's more than enough, you helped us when we needed it and saved us. Not everyone needs to fight, but everyone needs to help. We are not making out of this with us running around, we need to watch each other's backs". At this point, Desmond began to dig into his coin purse and started grabbing a few things.
The next person to awake was who Desmond was waiting for, he needed to know how she would be out of all of this. As Amelea rose, she seemed to make the remark that she was some kind of princess who needed to be saved. Yet the moment she looked around, she saw VVvysen and was startled enough to invoke the Pentad through physical gesture. She rose to call out for everyone and check if everyone is okay as she drew in kinetic energy, Desmond was immediately worried like she might have tried to hide it preparing to do something, yet Desmond was already filled with energy so his preparedness hopefully went unnoticed by the Princess. She seems far more prepared for fighting than what a normal person would, and far more so than what he'd expect from a princess.
As she called out with righteous anger, she proclaimed realizing who they are, and Desmond's eyes almost sharpened, yet he stopped himself from showing his thoughts. She already knew, she even said it herself: 'She should have known they would use her as bait'. Who were they baiting? Obviously, it wasn't just some random person. Desmond knew something was up, she was now beginning to shift the situation to try and get people to have a high resolve to go straight for the enemy, maybe this was her plan to play off what happened to VVvysen. As the Princess made her proclamations, Desmond put his hand on her shoulder as he said in a calm voice, "We have a few things to do before we do that. Firstly heal up and find our other partner. Talk about what we know,-".
Desmond shifted his arm that was on her shoulder slightly but keep his right hand hidden from her as he continued, "-after all, we need to know what we are dealing with. And what about those friends of yours? Shouldn't we go get them? After all, they should be able to help us defeat the Maria Nera's crew for sure, we did just kill 6 of their stronger mages, right?" Desmond was looking at the Princess waiting for a response as in his off-hand, his right hand, hidden from her view, flashed what seemed to be 3 Neskal. In the order from left to right while looking at Desmond head on goes: Lapis Lazuli, Ivory, and Onyx. He hopes that whoever sees this might understand his message for this conversation, hopefully, Ingrid might understand what this means.
Ipte, Garnet- Lover. Maybe is given to pay for a dowry, anniversary, gifts of love, and the such like that.
Shune, Lapis Lazuli- Learner. Maybe given to people as either a way to pay for school, pay someone in a school, may be used to congratulate someone, or to tell someone you learned something important.
Oraff, Gold- Creator. May be used when a great inventor makes something and used to congratulate them, may be used when a baby is born into a higher family, or stuff to deal with creation inside a higher family or industry.
Eshiran, Ivory- Destroyer. Maybe it's used as a threat, when nobles wish to threaten each other, used to pay soldiers, for funeral costs, and for condolences.
Dami, Onyx- Judge. Often given in professional and business matters as an exhortation to deal fairly also used to signify the person made a sound judgment and the such.
The diversion was away. The die was cast. Nothing Yalen could do mattered now, so he held his breath and waited. He pulled his holy medallion off his hand and wrapped the chain around his neck. Yalen’s hands flowed in unison as they formed a divine pentagram, then came together to complete the sign of the Pentad.
Oraff is my savior. I shall know no fear. Yalen’s mind raced with silent prayers of safety and courage. Should this plan fail, let me be the only one to fall. I am ready.
The beast was so close it could shake the earth beneath their feet. The dry winds were blowing, but the monk did not close his eyes. Yalen would stand witness to the coming moment no matter what, whether the group was about to meet its salvation… or its demise. In this rare moment of tranquility, the world appeared sluggish. The bells of the refuge may as well have been distant claps of thunder.
When the head of the scaly tyrant breached the surface, Yalen instinctively held his breath. As he beheld the colossal wyrm, his mind instantly froze. A monster of that size shouldn’t exist. His primitive brain would not accept it. He could only stand and stare as time appeared to slow down.
And then it turned. The wyrm forced its head back under the sand and withdrew, apparently deceived by the metal decoy. Twenty tons of dragon passed by like a locomotive, and the trembling of the sand forced Yalen to fall backwards. When the sand wyrm was finally gone, the fallen cleric was partially buried by the sand spray.
"Hahahaaaaa you piece of shit!" Yalen could hear Jocasta cursing. "I-I hope you have to poop it out, you d-damned worm!" What a mouth she had on her!
He felt someone’s spell pull upon him, lifting him out of the sand. After scrambling on all fours to retrieve his pearlwood cane, Yalen managed to rise to his feet and rejoin the others. By the grace of the gods, nobody was hurt. It filled him with relief knowing that they were okay. There wasn’t much time to rejoice though. They had to get behind the sanctuary walls before the sand wyrm decided it wanted seconds.
"Yeahhhhhhh!" Zarina raised a hand for a high-five, which he happily returned. Despite their camaraderie, he declined Zarina’s offer of a piggyback with a look of embarrassment on his face. He had no idea if she was joking. It was hard to tell with her.
Safe at last.
There was an inexplicable delay before the six students were granted entrance into the refuge. A chill went up Yalen’s spine as a stiff breeze hit him, his perspiration causing the air to feel like ice. His body was exhausted by the terror of facing two life threatening encounters so close together. When the wooden gates finally opened, Yalen was hanging on to his cane with both hands.
The same could be said for many of those in the surrounding crowd. Though there were a handful unafflicted individuals present, the majority of the people gathered were refugees. The tethered. It looked like a crowd of war veterans. The only ones not being supported by crutches or wheelchair were the children running about, frantically trying to avoid getting snatched up by their guardians. There weren’t enough guards about to keep the crowd from growing, and the air was buzzing with chatter.
Yalen was stopped in his tracks when a child managed to slip through and make it to him, beaming. "We don't geh visidors verrey offen!" she said with a thick Segonese accent. "Only waan in de whole time I'm heer!" She blinked and regarded his cane for a moment. "Whehr you froam?" she asked.
How precious! Yalen couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he squatted down to meet her eye to eye. “Me? I come from Ersand’Enise!” He raised his voice so that he could be heard above the noise.
“Ersandenis?” The Segonese girl fumbled over the phrase with a look of confusion. “Haha, you talk wead mistuh!” The way she so innocently derided him made Yalen crack up a bit.
“What’s your name little one?” He asked her.
“Rita!” She giggled.
“I’m Yalen! Nice to meet you!” He reached out and ruffled her curly hair a bit. Rita laughed even louder, but eventually pushed his hand off.
“You gottsa cane too! Yuh’re one of us!” She poked at his fancy walking stick out of curiosity. “Big kids dun’t walk on all foors! You do! How come? How come?”
For a little while the young man entertained his wee visitor, but the bubbly conversation was interrupted by the sound of a pistol being fired. An amplified voice made itself heard over the frightened murmuring of the residents.
"It is well past curfew for anyone under sixteen," he commanded in Avincian, repeating himself in Torragonese. "Come now: you know this. The desert is harsh and these travelers encountered some wildlife. You are to return to your rooms or tomorrow's recreation time will have to be canceled!"
A woman with a similar complexion to Rita appeared from the crowd and rushed over to the youngster to grab her hand. She was rather colorfully dressed, though her heavy chainmail shirt and wicked looking halberd indicated that the lady was not to be trifled with.
“There you are, you naughty child! I look away for ten seconds and here I find you disturbing our master’s guests! Please excuse us Brother.” The Segonese guardswoman had to practically drag the resistant juvenile away. Rita puffed her cheeks up and pouted, evidently displeased at having to part ways with her new friend so soon. Yalen regretfully waved goodbye to her. He hoped they would cross paths again in the near future.
Events played out as expected. The warden introduced himself along with some of his cabinet. Some matters of grave importance came up, especially that of a wild aberration being spotted somewhere outside the refuge. After seeing the Halassa go wild against their natural instincts, Yalen didn’t need to make many inferences as to what would happen if the same thing affected the sand wyrm. He had little to say, so he listened carefully and tried to absorb as much of the conversation as he could.
When Marceline led the team to their quarters, Yalen’s entire body nearly went limp. Too much caffeine. Too much adrenaline. Not enough sleep. He was so dearly close to a warm bed… No bath would be needed tonight. His bed time prayers would have to be brief.
That was an idiom Ysilla heard from a Torragon merchant. He meant it in a jest towards her for how long she had been browsing his wares and yet uttering not a single word. He may have teased her about a corpse but she finally understood possibly where that expression came from. At least she wanted to believe something like this could be the story behind it.
Silent and still lest you become the grave.
Though it was a touch contrived in her opinion, it made the expression fun. Silent and still, in spite of the shaking legs, Ysilla did not budge from her spot. Although when considering what was just within a stone's throw from them and coming closer, she was unsure if her legs were shaking from the draw of magic or her own nerves. Her face would say no but the flittering of her stomach seemed to compel her to want to do something.
She turned her head to glance at her companions. They had all steeled their nerves up to this point but the point of looking around was to focus on two people in particular: Ayla and her sister. She had two puppets and decided then if she heard the wyrm surface, she'd repel each to impact those two in particular to at least give them a chance to evade being swallowed whole. It would take a fast draw but she was confident she could do it. No regrets.
Ever closer the wyrm approached and Ysilla's mark would be the moment it tried to surface to act. It never did.
The beast shifted course towards their bait and Ysilla relaxed, closing her eyes and slowing exhaling her held breath through her nose. She was quite as ecstatic as the others and found herself to be more deflated. The exhaustion of being edge had taken the last bit of stamina she had and would appreciate a much needed rest. Thankfully the gates were not far.
...
Ysilla had wondered what awaited them behind the gates. She had her own imagination and it was fairly close to accurate. The various states of decrepit young life seemed like a tragedy. She wondered what life was like here, glancing around ignoring the showmanship of her sister. It was the call of a young girl that did get her attention. Her gaze shifted and studied the little one with a passive face as she poured out everything on her mind at once.
The witch bent down, bringing her face level with the girl's. "May I see your hat?" She asked cracking a small smile. Curious that the girl would focus on Ysilla's hat first. It was the first thing she probably thought of when she saw her enter the gates. She must be so proud of her own pretty neat hat so naturally, Ysilla must return the compliment.
Before she could get a satisfying resolution, a pistol shot would ring out and interrupt them. Why the interruption? She did not know and trying to turn back to the girl, she'd see her shooed off. This grated the puppet witch, her eyes narrowing at the one that scolded her new friend away. She continued to watch that one even with Tavio delivering uninteresting excuses.
Ysilla remained quiet for the rest of the night. She was busy surveying the details of the enclosure and wondering how the days looked like. She would have liked to stay here a few days, quietly watching to see how they lived. For now, she would take her bath and enjoy the rest.
That Manfred had fought as a soldier was as plainly written on him as the colour of his eyes or the clothes that he wore. War leaves its mark on a man: in his thoughts, bearing, and actions if he is fortunate enough that it does not ruin his body.
Manfred was fortunate. By almost any measure, he was supreme in his fortune. He was young, healthy, and of noble birth. He had skill in the Gift and most women found him comely. Yet, he had been dead inside before coming to Ersand'Enise. Less than a month in and he had already changed. He had lived, he had loved, and he had laughed in a way that he hadn't thought possible since his time on the battlefield, since the day he learned that Nina had been sent to a Tethered refuge.
That made the return of his soldiering instincts that much more painful, for he knew what he had to do. Dorothea, with whom he had shared a bed, a smile before breakfast most mornings, and many of his hopes and fears, had gone horribly wrong. The situation was only complicated by the fact that her feelings weren't at all unwarranted. He did not believe Carmillia for one moment and he certainly did not trust Zarra. The former was a schemer - he knew the type - with little ability in the Gift. The latter was a self-serving gloryhound who could be relied upon only to do whatever it was that he wanted. And what he had wanted was to play the blood-soaked hero while leaving Manfred's beloved to possibly die. He looked upon her porcelain neck: something that he had kissed, caressed, and cradled many a time.
He picked out where her carotid artery was and calmly met Eun-Ji's gaze.
In a single smooth motion that anyone else would be hard-pressed to even register as aggressive, he flattened his hand into a blade and drew it back. This, he unleashed with great speed into Dorothea's neck. It was simply the fastest way to resolve an issue that seemed hellbent on spiraling further. He stood there as events played themselves out over the next few seconds, frowning. "Ihr Eingreifen ist nicht erforderlich," he said evenly, meeting the incoming arcanist's eyes.
Marceline had already given Jocasta the sign. The two of them exchanged smiles, but the younger girl wasn't quite finished. First, she had to deal with... Zarina's question. "Oh, just down over that way," she replied. "We have our own rooms. If you're here for another night," she recommended, pausing for just a moment too long, "you should come visit." She turned, holding onto Zarina's eyes for just a moment longer, and wheeled away.
Jocasta's heart was pounding. It had been the entire time, but she kept her smile. "Well, looks like we're the last two," she chirped, twisting to glance at Zarina. "Sleep well, friend." She rolled her eyes tiredly. "Gods, I know I will." For a moment, she was glad of having wheels to occupy her hands, else they'd have been visibly shaking. She pushed herself into her room and closed the door.
There, waited a bath, but it would wait some time longer. Sleep was not something that she could have in this place. Every moment had been a reminder of things she so desperately wanted to forget. Yet Jocasta could not. They should not be forgotten. She closed her eyes and set her face to stone. Air went into her lungs and left it. When she opened them, it was not Jocasta Re who stared at some crippled girl in a mirror. Volto Certosa reached out with the Gift, far beyond the walls of this place of nightmares, into the desert. From the shifting sands many miles away, she drank her fill of energy and rose, a pale ghost by flickering lamplight. Around her head swirled a halo of golden hair, though it had not always been golden, not when she had worn a different name.
She found a great beast in the sands and still she gathered. With an unholy strength, force and motion roared into her from its muscle and sinew and she was filled only when it let out a great keening man and began to slow. She released it.
Seizing the threads of space and time, Certosa pulled them to herself. Images of places and people not from here or now flew past, but the assassin knew exactly what she was searching for. Finding it, she tore through its fabric and emerged somewhere else.
It looked the exact same as it had seven years ago, when first she'd been invited inside. For a moment, the fears of a weak girl bubbled to the surface. Tiny hairs stirred on the back of her neck and she wanted nothing more than to be swathed in layers of the thickest, safest, most opaque clothing imaginable, somewhere far away from here. She felt parts of herself that she could no longer feel and wished that she hadn't. She wanted to press the distant memory of her knees together and run.
The girl lost. Sleeping soundly in his bed was Joaquin Gutierrez: a few years older and heavier. His hair was thinner now, and shot through with more visible streaks of grey, but his was a face that had remained with her like a ghost.
She had come to exorcise it.
OOC Warning: Disturbing Content. Read at your own discretion.
Certosa drifted over to his bedside and perched upon the edge, an angel in white. "Joaquin," she said softly, reverting her hair to its natural black and deadening the sound from leaving this room.
He awoke with a start and scrabbled backwards in his bed. "Who? Whah- how?"
She smiled coldly. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Who are you?" he demanded. "How did you get in here!?"
"You don't remember me, Joaquin?" She tilted her head to one side. "You said our love would last forever," she chuckled bitterly.
His eyes narrowed.
"Only, it wasn't love, was it, Joaquin?" An edge crept into her voice. The words: they had snap to them.
"Con...Consuela?"
"You raped me," she said simply, reaching out a hand toward him. He batted it away, looking like he'd seen a ghost.
"You're dead! I'm dreaming!" He made the sign of the Pentad.
"You raped me," she snarled, voice cracking. "Again and again." Her eyes flashed.
"In nomini Ipte, Xun, Orraz, Echerra, e Dami!" He reached for the Pentact on his night table, but she seized him by the wrist before he could get there. She squeezed and he let out a satisfying sound.
"You raped me and you killed my baby."
"Bruja! Fantasma! Criatura malvada!"
"Oh Joaquin," she replied, with a beatific smile. "No." She shook her head and the smile fell away. "I am justice."
He tried to rip his hand away, but she tightened her grip and he squealed in pain. "This is a dream. You are a dream."
A nightmare, Certosa thought.
He drew back and smacked her, then, across the face. It turned her head and left her cheek red, but she let herself feel the sting of it. She let herself remember. She turned back to face him, gaze unflinching.
"I am being attacked," he screamed. "Help!" He went to deliver another blow but she stopped it with kinetic magic. "¡Ayuda! ¡Ayuda! Somebody!"
"They will never hear you," she said by way of reply. "You should accept what is coming. It won't be so bad." She shook her head the exact way that he had as he'd stood above her. As he'd pulled out his belt and it had snaked down in his hand. "You might even enjoy it," she told him. "Stupid boy." She altered the formula but kept the spirit.
"What is this? Some kind of revenge fantasy?" He snarled, finding some spine. "How are you even alive? I watched you die."
"In a way, you're right," she answered. "Consuela died that day, but you didn't finish the job."
"What do you want?" He barked. "Sorry? I'm sorry! You were a dying girl! You were so beautiful... mi vida. And so sad... I only wanted to give you something: to make you happy. I am sorry that I hurt you. He paused for a breath and leaned in, his voice sinking. "Is this about our baby?"
Certosa's hand shot out and smashed into his jaw. His head hurtled into the wall and she rose. "You wanted to give yourself something!" she roared, "Me! You wanted to make yourself happy, with my body: mine! You held me down! You covered my mouth. You hit me!"
His hand reached up instinctively for his mouth and pawed at the blood. Now there was the fear of a man facing his mortality in Joaquin's eyes. That was what she'd been waiting for. She paused a moment to drink it in. "You... you didn't struggle after the first two times," he protested weakly.
"I learned it would go faster if I didn't."
"I-I'm sorry," he stammered and she was reminded of the act that she put on every day. "I... I am. I did a bad thing. I ask Dami's forgiveness."
But not mine.
She could feel him gathering energy. Gutierrez had the Gift - a bit of it anyways: Enough to have frightened poor Consuela with it. With what he must've thought was speed, the hand he'd been hiding behind his back flashed out at her with a dagger. From it leapt an arcane beam which she easily absorbed. She turned the energy into kinetic and ripped the blade from his fingers. Cold eyes lanced down at it before meeting his. "Pathetic, Joaquin, really. Even by your standards, that was poor form."
Presently, he began screaming again for help, like a stupid doomed animal that did not yet understand that it was caught in the trap of something far more intelligent than itself. Certosa began to tire of this. She had seen his fear. She had felt his desperation, his anguish, his rudimentary little mind scurrying from one idea to the next, trying to save his worthless life.
"Cucaracha," she sneered, grabbing him by the face and rising into the air. He thrashed and struggled with all his might and she could not begrudge him that, for it was all that he could do. Dying with dignity was not something a worm like him understood: maybe, she reflected, not even something that she understood.
"Come, we're going on a little trip: the last place we saw each other." She seized, once again, the threads of space and time, focusing, nearly crushing his face in her intensity. Luckily, not quite. "Oh, do be quiet and stop your noises, Joaquin."
Shooting into the desert from nowhere came a white comet and its cargo. It streaked above a ruin, rolled up into the air with an almost childlike freedom, and then plunged toward the ground. At the last moment, it pulled up and released its unwilling passenger.
Certosa scrubbed all of her speed and hovered there, nightgown fluttering lightly in the evening breeze. From sand, stone, blood, and bone, she called forth into her palm a wickedly grinning mask of the colour that she was named for.
Joaquin was already running. She could feel him trying to draw energy from surroundings that were nearly bereft of it, trying to boost himself with kinetic magic. "Is that all your body can do?" She howled. "So sad! Don't worry!" She stalked him. "I will help you!"
Like a dragon swooping down on its prey, she plowed into him and hammered him into the ground. Hovering there, a couple of feet above a stone where he had once left her to die, Certosa seized him by the face, her grip unnaturally strong, tearing into his flesh, gripping his very skull. She raised him up and flung him aside like scrap, but she was merciless. Again, the angel of death swept in. "Please," he groaned, his face tattered and body broken, "Just kill me. If you're going to do it. Just-"
"Shut up." She grabbed him, raised him up and slammed his head once more into the rock. Again, she lifted and drove him into it. And again. And again until her white nightgown was a canvas of red spatters and spots.
Jocasta released what were scraps of hair and flesh and shook them free of her hand. She discarded her mask and floated there. Chest heaving in the moonlight, she closed her eyes and... what emerged was uncertain, for it was an awful, happy, anguished noise. Tears streamed down her cheeks and there was nobody here to see them. She did not even look back at the body.
Morning dawned, hot and cloudless, and the Refuge came to life. From their various living quarters emerged hundreds of children, teens, and young adults, all in various stages of the Tethering: on four, only nominally on four, and on two. It was observed that those who were 'on zero', nearing the end, rarely left their rooms and even more rarely left the area that was set aside specifically for them.
Nevertheless, the small settlement in the high desert fairly thrummed with life and energy compared to its desolate surroundings. Footsteps and wheel tracks crisscrossed the central plaza and the various dining rooms and covered verandahs filled with people.
In one of these, held somewhat aloof from the others, gathered a cohort of nine. There was space for a tenth, but that seat remained empty. "So as you can see, all of the faster beasts," the Warden was saying, "have been coming from many directions." He pointed to a handful of spots on a map that occupied the center of a large circular table. "The slower ones, however, mostly from here: the southeast." He took out a pencil and drew a line. "Along this corridor, maybe ten degrees each way. I think, if we search there, we might have some luck."
Presently, breakfast was brought out by some of the more simply-dressed caretakers that Marceline had referred to as 'Pigeons.' She was here as well, and cut a rather different figure now that she was on her feet with the aid of braces and crutches. A long summer dress obscured the former from view, however. In any case, the group adjourned for breakfast: omelettes, Pan Con Tomate, bocadillos, and tostadas, with some coffee, fresh fruits, and churros for desert.
The warden, who'd been in intermittent communication with a series of messengers since shortly after they'd gathered, took a moment to excuse himself, and he strode briskly away, leaving the seven teens, including Marceline, with a sole adult supervisor: a Vice Warden named Adela Mirabel-Gonzalez.
When he returned, he clasped his hands, businesslike. "So, I hope you've enjoyed your breakfast, because I dare say you will certainly need the energy today." At a questioning look from the Vice Warden, he could only shake his head tightly. He addressed everyone, however. "We will be following the search plan outlined: ten degrees to either side of the corridor and - somewhere along there - we should find our aberración. However -" He nodded at Mirabel. "The man who was supposed to be your guide - one of our rangers - has unfortunately gone missing." He held up a hand. "Certainly, it doesn't seem that foul play was involved. There was no sign of forced entry in his room and his horse, boots, coin purse, and riding cloak are gone. Nonetheless, this leaves us having to find you someone else." He pursed his lips, unhappy, but his face softened after a moment and he shrugged. "There is nothing novel to be done, however. We will reassign one of the others. It will just take some time to work out. In the meanwhile, please feel free to make use of the staff facilities. We ask that you try to avoid the patients. They are having a special day today and it is best to simply let them enjoy themselves. Your presence here is appreciated but can be a source of worry for some." He clasped his hands, businesslike. "Now, I will be on my way and we shall reconvene here at..." he trailed off and furrowed his brow. "Five HS but, first, I am here to answer your questions should there be any."
We've moved forward some eight hours in this post, from about midnight to 3:25 HS (half past three) the next morning. Plenty can have happened during the night and can also happen during the coming hour and a half before you leave the Refuge and set out on the mission in earnest.
1) People can certainly have gotten up and snooped during the night. If you need some pointers on what they may have seen, feel free to message me.
2) At this juncture, I do not want anyone having seen what Jocasta/Certosa did and/or busting the case wide open. There will be more than builds as we go on. She covered her tracks very well too, as was referenced. Feel free to have noticed one or two small things that were innocuous without context but that could mean a lot more with further clues in the future.
3) Go ahead and describe any morning experiences!
4) It's time to question the Warden. Just a warning that he will eagerly answer questions about the aberration situation but he will deflect and deny anything remotely accusatory about the state of the residents. Address it the right way, however, and you may earn yourself a 'tour'.
5) You can always interact with Marceline, any others you've met, and others you have yet to meet but have planned to run into here.
6) Train, meditate, socialize, or prepare for the next phase of the mission in less than two hours.
Ayla used the opportunity to rest that night, taking a long bath to refresh the pores of her skin. They were afforded basic soaps and oils, seemingly made at the refuge as it served primarily as a self-sustaining community with little support from the outside. She always found the water relaxes her, allowing her mind to wander freely and unoccupied.
With the tales upon the sands before they got here she did hope for communal rooms, the place was not exactly the safe sanctuary it likes to masquerade as. Her thoughts dwelled on Jocasta a lot and the experiences she shared. Further thoughts on Marceline, Laella, and the others at the refuge. Those sweet innocent faces, the cries of help held behind their eyes. She shivered as she sank under the water. Looking over the surface as she watches the bubbles pop. There is a visceral feeling burning inside of her, one that wouldn’t easily be resolved by platitudes. She sighed, as she struggled to even comprehend what she wanted to do. She plunged her head under the water as she started to count. The sinking feeling takes away the heat and intensity as she feels her heart rate and blood pressure begin to decrease, slowly becoming back up for air. She resolves to do something in these moments, even if it is not much, she was going to check in on her friend.
Adorned in the simple garments of the refuge as her own being laundered, she made her way down the corridor. It was already quite late, and the wrinkled skin on her hands and feet signified perhaps she spent a little too long in that bath of hers. She made her way to what would appear to be Jocasta’s door as she knocked upon it, “Jocasta, it is Ayla, are you awake?”. She was met with silence. She puts her ear against the door for signs of life and gently tries the handle. The door was locked. “Sorry… you must be sound asleep…”. She backs away from the door as she moves down the corridor and sighs. Hoping you rest well tonight, she thought.
Collab: Zarina @YummyYummy ”Haven’t heard a peep from her room.” Zarina called out with a somewhat hushed tone, sitting on a wooden chair she had pulled from her room at the nearest corner that gave a good vantage point. She had recently bathed with clean clothes courtesy of their hosts. Nothing too fancy, but comfortable for a solitary evening, ”Can’t sleep?” she asked, arms crossed under her chest and leg over the other, ”Thought I’d keep an eye out, see if they’re making the rounds here or not. Aaaand I’ve got nothing better to do.” she sighs and then asks with a smirk, ”Hungry?”
Ayla tilted her head as she looked to see Zaz already roaming, “Too much of your coffee?” she quipped with a smile. “There may be something edible around, perhaps something juicy and refreshing for the palette”. She approaches the Virangish girl offering a hand to assist her down from her perch, a needless gesture, but offered out of politeness.
Zarina waves her hand in a dismissive manner, “‘Tis what they say.” she is quick to accept the hand and heave herself off her lazy position, ”So you heard about some Naranjas too? From the kids?” when she stood, her left arm was raised and then made to bend back, making her hand reach as far back as it could until she prompted a crack, ”Dunno if it was, y’know, the fruit or some game. But Something juicy sounds …” she purses her lips, clearly salivating over something, “Good enough.” she turns her head to the nearest corridor, “Adventure time?” her eyes peered to the side, barely glancing at the little lion. Zarina was smirking and her tone no longer as considerate for those sleeping. Finally something to do!
“Naranjas sound good, Laella says there is a tree in the courtyard.”, as she walks along with the taller girl, the disparity between them is very noticeable, even though they were the same age. She was somewhat distracted as they approached the residence quarters, steel grates outside the different passageways for drainage, as wooden foot bridges lay alongside the wall which is used to allow passage across. She wondered if anyone had ever been trapped in their rooms by accident, “Hope they don’t need to leave in event of fire…” though her thoughts are somewhat muted as the building appears made of stone. ”Or, you know, a giant Wyrm crashes in and makes the roof fall.” Zarina chuckles while keeping up with a slow pace. No hurry. The next set of residences appear to have access lifts to traverse the different floors. “Accessibility is a priority here, Maura used to struggle rolling through the streets of Varrahasta”. They continue walking as she notices a little light on in the distance, a lantern appears to be active, “Appears we are not the only ones awake.”
Zarina was a bit more discreet in her observations, unless it was to add a remark to what Ayla had said. The lack of her placebo was maybe weighing on her already. She perked up at the mention of other folks being awake, ”Hmm? Night shift staff, I guess?” she tilts her head and confers a curious squint toward her noble partner, ”Maybe they have Naranjas.” she winks at Ayla, her stride unaffected by the potential encounter they may experience. They got closer and closer, until faint sounds could be heard. Mere, unintelligible murmurs from where Zarina was standing, but it did prompt her to raise her eyebrows while turning her head to Ayla to make her big fat, curiosity driven grin very evident, ”Can you hear them?” she whispers.
Tilting her head as she cups her ear, it shouldn’t be a difficult task to tease the sound towards them, though compensating for receiving rather than projecting like she normally did. She draws upon the gift to enhance the vibrations through the air, maintaining their volume, pitch and frequency as it is directed towards the pair of them. “Multiple inside, Attempting to increase the volume for us… sounds like they are roasting something, perhaps it is a kitchen?”, turning to look towards Zaz.
Sniff, sniff. Zarina blinks, furrows her eyebrows and then steps a little closer to find any sort of opening she could use to get a look, ”Roasting alright.” she could barely make out a caretaker through the crack of the door, although the body wasn’t as easy to assess, ”They’re burning stuff. Or rather …” with her lips pursed she backed her head from the opening and looked over at Ayla, ”They say anything else?” she leans in to get into Ayla’s range, given she didn’t want the sound to actually disperse or anything.
Concentrates on the voices talking, “They are discussing the caretakers sent to meet us. How they could not recover Caretaker Esparza, the one which was eaten by the wyrm. They say he had a heart attack before the Wyrm appeared”, did pause as she mused for a moment, “Or the shock of his discovery could have brought it on…”.
”Uh-huh.” Zarine peeks back into the room. The mention of a dead person connected the few remaining dots in her head. Then the slab being pushed near the furnace came close enough to the small fissure that she could see the body, ”Can confirm, not a kitchen. At least I hope not.” she clicks her tongue before closing the door just enough to not actually see anything anymore, and then took a few steps away, ”Rangers having a heart attack, though?” she raises an eyebrow, ”Yeah. Happens all the time. We breed them fragile in the North.” the obvious peculiarity was ushered in via sarcasm, although it definitely did not amuse her, ”No Naranjas here, I’m afraid, little Lion.”
Waves her hands away as if contaminated, ceasing her eavesdropping abruptly as realisation dawns upon her, wiping her hands upon her outfit. “Remind me to steer away from a spit roast hog for a while”, she takes Zaz’s hand, tugging her back upon her expedition through the halls of the refuge as they make their way eventually to the seating area surrounding a large gnarled orange tree, easily over a hundred years of age, drooping over the pool. The location is clear in its frequent use as it is surrounded by benches and chairs with a picket fence doing little to prevent those more adventurous embarking into the tree branches. The bark is adorned with what at a glance appeared to be runes, but on closer inspection are initials and small pictures, some are contained within hearts. “A lovers retreat perhaps, a good location for a performance”.
Naranjas, finally. Zarina, being at least a head taller than Ayla, had no issue reaching out to nab an orange from a more accessible branch, ”Heads up.” she tosses the juicy goodness over to the lion and then seizes a snack for herself. The night sky and flickering torches further back made it possible to admire the scenery. A deep pool and a fruit-bearing tree. An old one with many carvings dating likely many generations. She opts to take a seat over a thicker root so she could pass her hand over the markings, ”Condemned little lovelies, finding love and happiness even when they know they’re gonna die far too soon.” she chuckles, her hands now busy with the peeling of her delicacy, ”Cute.” she then turns her head toward Ayla, ”Wanna sing a little tune, to commemorate those with so little time to share their love?” she seizes a piece from the orange and eats it, ”Although I’m sure they never once took it for granted. Guess it’s something.”
Looks up to the woman in the tree, perhaps a little oversized compared to the children who most likely made use of their branches, but fortunate enough to reach the higher fruits kept out of their reach. “Sometimes life is scary and dark. That is why we must find the light”. She contemplates the request as she peels and samples the rich piece of fruit. Though she isn’t a songstress and her flutia was back in her room, she relies on the instruments the Pentad have given her as she starts to whistle up into the night sky a serene melody.
Whistling was fine too, it soothed Zarina’s restless mind and allowed her to focus her attention. She carefully peeled bits of the orange with her painted, miraculously still unbroken nails. After about half was eaten, she kept the fruit in one hand while the other had its digits passed over the carvings on the bark, “Sheesh, look at this.” the Virangish girl was passing her index over the clover-shaped carving near the back of the trunk. The name ‘Amanda’ was carved on it, and the date indicated a time before either girls were even born, “Twenty year old, or close.” she turned her head toward Ayla, “Kind of feels weird, knowing that person’s probably dead. And we’re touching a thing that keeps their memory. Sort of.”
Starts to come to a rest as the exhaustion of the day is quickly catching up with vengeance as she leans back. “They say no one is ever truly dead as long as their memory is still alive”, she gazes up towards the various names, some she didn’t recognise like Consuela which was done with care, though appeared to be one with Marceline’s name within it. “Marceline’s name is there, we could always ask her.”. She stretches out as she makes herself comfortable, seeming to decide to sleep in the open. “So sleepy…”.
Zarina raised a brow at Ayla’s hopeful observation, but this time abstained from raining on the little lion’s positive outlook, “It is?” she squinted in search of the familiar name among the many runes that decorated the tree, “Ah, yeah.” she traced the symbol, noticing its rougher state compared to many others, “Three years ago. Huh.” a more posed mind allowed her to recall a potential issue, but the sleepy little lion ended up getting Zaz’s attention, “Hmm? Finally coming down?” she scoots, legs close together and her hand tapping over her lap, “Have a break, kitty kat. I’ll just … Finish my naranja.”
Ayla uses the opportunity to snooze, curled up on the side as she leans her head upon the comfortable lap. The day has been long, tough and busy, a far cry from what her life has been like in Varrahasta. I hope everyday is not this exhausting, she thought.
As the lion sleeps tonight, Zarina began to hum the same tune Ayla had been whistling, letting her often neglected pair of lungs shine for once– and it wasn’t half bad. Careful strokes to the cub’s mane came about when she finished her orange, and a good quarter of an hour was dedicated to just enjoying the fresh air, the clear night skies and the aroma of the orange tree. When it came time to retreat, Zarina carried the little noble, keeping her head rested over her shoulder with both arms holding Ayla bridal-style.
Zarina took her time, and then gently posed the talented musician onto her bed, tucked in and safe. A final glance was given to the little lion, prompting a subtle but genuine smile from the taller lass, before she retreated back to her improvised post to keep an eye on the rooms of the squad. She wasn’t completely sleepless, with the occasional micro-sleep here and there as she distracted herself with little carvings of her own on the stone wall by her, amounting to about an hour of very, very unhealthy sleep.
In the morning, they were treated to a hearty breakfast, breaking bread with classmates and hosts alike. The late night activities continued to take their toll as she still felt exhausted, it was reported that it took the caretakers considerable effort to wake her for the morning. She used her concealer to hide the drained look, appearing to be as refreshed as always in appearance at least. She was pleased to see Jocasta, after being worried about her the night before. “Hope you managed to sleep well,” said Ayla, offering her a warm smile. In response, Jocasta yawned and stretched languidly. “Eshiran, you have n-no idea how well, friend. Like death itself, hehe.” She smiled fondly back. “You too, I hope?”. She offers a wide smile back, it was nice to see such a genuinely fond look upon the girl's face. “Apparently sleeping till the hours of Oraff is frowned upon heavily here”.
It seemed the refuge didn’t have its house in order as there was an evident space at the table. Perhaps he gets to sleep till Oraff, she thought. The space was met with frequent furtive looks and glances from the warden and his staff, it was someone clearly of some import. As the plan was laid out before them, she yawned a little in both tiredness and boredom as the session seemed to be dragging on. In truth, it seemed there was little of substance as it seemed to boil down to ‘it is somewhere over there’.
She allows those who wish to ask any questions to go ahead, though if there is an opportune moment, she would suggest that Marceline takes them on a tour to help them wake up to prepare for the mission ahead.
Ayla checked on Jocasta, the room was quiet and locked. Ayla and Zarina went on the hunt for a midnight snack. Refuge has a lot of accessibility options, and purposeful non-accessibility options. Overheard Caretakers talk about how the ranger Esparza died of a heart attack shortly before the Wyrm attacked. Found a gnarly old orange tree covered in carvings. Some of these were four-leaf clovers, dating back over twenty years. Amanda, Consuela, and Marcelines' were noticable. Marceline's name was dated approximately three years ago. Ayla will suggest Marceline should lead them on a tour of the refuge in the morning. This is to provide opportunity for them to talk to Marceline without the presence of the staff, and the team to do their own investigations or check on the kids.
Zarina gave an appreciative nod to both Marceline and Jocasta before heading into her temporary quarters. She really wanted that bath, and it would be the first thing she hopped into without even familiarising herself with the foreign room. Her sweat and sand covered skin appreciated the warm, pore-opening water. A good half-hour was spent in it, until it eventually entered lukewarm territory and the Virangish could only bear so long with only her thoughts and nothing else. She smelled of oranges, a flavour that was quite common in this Refuge, it seemed.
They had a big day tomorrow and there was little chance of sleep. Still, Zarina clung onto a modicum of hope. Dried and fitted with a fresh set of common, dark clothing provided by the establishment, she had set her pendant over the nightstand by her bed, improvised a carpet with the spare towel and got on her knees before the stand. The third and final prayer of the day- even if it was probably the start of a new one. Hands over her thighs and head lowered, with her hair modestly tied to not hide her face, she started off silent before reciting it in Inipori.
”Dreamer, the one and only above all.”
Thoughts of home and the Al-Nader estate flooded her mind. Her mother, in particular, and the affairs she had to leave behind.
”I embrace the three envoys of the one great Vashdal.”
Yalen came to mind, and her assumptions toward his person. A cleric in a group with at least on Hexaic, and her mind immediately drifted into suspicion. A cruel and unjust thought, unworthy of the dreamer. Unworthy of a kind man either.
”Let us dream. Let us dream. Let us dream.”
Then came Ayla, along with her sister. Envy reigned supreme in Zarina’s heart, for many reasons. A jealousy unfitting for people she loved. It was so hard. She paused, but the prayer had to continue.
”Until we see you, Great Vashdal, freed of …”
The first thought went to Kaspar, the one she began to admire. The serenity of that young man and his way to talking, it made Zarina think of just how bad things had gotten with her. But then, as the prayer ended, her thoughts drifted toward Jocasta- toward the one she was the most concerned over.
A nightmare.
”A nightmare.”
Cold sweats mixed with the humidity of her hair, making for an uncomfortable coldness throughout her upper body. Something felt off, to the point where she forgot to finalise her prayer. There was nothing, in truth, and yet that last thought caused her to just stop for a good moment. She did end up finishing the last lines and bowing to finish the ritual, and complete the final prayer of the day.
Sleep was not an option, not in such an unfamiliar place and with so many things running in her head. Zarina was going to have to kill time while keeping her mind busy. Grabbing a chair from her quarters and opting to step out, she placed herself by a nearby corner where her field of view covered all the rooms of colleagues who were resting in. She had brought along a weathered knife from her limited belongings and a piece of wood, about the side of her palm as well. A work-in-progress it looked like, given she brought it along with her weaponry and bag, that she carved into something. It was at the beginning stage with nothing particularly intriguing about it. A mere slab.
Her work was interrupted by a little lion seeking out the tethered girl of their group. Zarina watched, silently, and let her find out if Jocasta was awake or not.
[See Collab Post in Ti’s Response!]
Zarina was likely the first to be awake, given she hardly slept. If one could even call these micro-naps sleep. When the smell of pastries and warm drinks captured her flair and activity began to accumulate in the Refuge, she left her post and got a head-start on the others. Coffee was inevitable and she served herself with a reasonable amount. She may be an addict, but she didn’t consume in excess, or at least not in one sitting. She took this time to find a nice, comfortable spot where she could admire the rising of the sun and indulge in the fresh, morning air of the arid desert, the sweet spot between the frigid coldness of the night and the scorching air of the day. How she missed her horse and the days she rode through these very dry lands.
There was a conspicuous lack of Zarina when the group had gathered for a convivial breakfast. She had since left before they had woken up with coffee safely acquired. Her return from the same tree she had visited last night would be around the conclusion of the morning feast, empty cup in hand, “Buenos Días.” she greets in passing as she reaches for the coffee and pours herself some while staying on her feet. She also indulges in churros.
She didn’t look particularly tired, or at least hid it well, but her gaze wasn’t nearly as focused as it once was. It darted around, taking in quick information before discarding any concern she may have for those present, except of course– “Sleep well, Ayla?” although she asked while the Warden was speaking. Not loud enough to actually cut him off, but she didn’t appear to really consider others, as if she were a tad zoned out.
Ayla starts to become a little flustered when questioned directly again. She navigates avoiding responding when Jocasta asks, though with Zaz… she could not even recall how she returned back into her bed. “Like Jocasta”, glancing at the other girl in her attempt to avoid any exchanges with the caretakers. They had great difficulty, and the lingering scent of smelling salts were still present in her nostrils. Jocasta leaned in knowingly, smirking. “They used the salts on you, didn’t they?” She shook her head tightly, shooting a wary glance at the warden and vice–warden. The blonde seemed… almost uncharacteristically clingy this morning, making an effort to place herself in the centre of the group as they’d made their way here, even holding Ayla’s hand for a little while.
Nonetheless, Zarina’s attention was soon drawn away. The mention of a missing ranger prompted the cocking of her eyebrows in a similar, blasé manner to when she heard of the strange death of the other ranger. When the head of the establishment finished, she looked over at him, “Yeah. How many are on the payroll here?” she inquired with little consideration for manners, her tone coming off almost aggressive with how straightforward she was, but her body language suggested the placebo she was drinking was keeping her poised. Somewhat.
Tavio paused, clasping his hands behind the small of his back and, for a moment, a look that seemed to be almost… annoyed flashed across his aquiline features. “We don’t disclose that information,” he said shortly. After a second, he thought better of it. “But there are four hundred thirty–five souls in this place, and all are in equal danger.” He broke character for a moment, lips forming a thin, bitter line. “Gutierrez was a coward for running like he did, now that we face a serious threat.” he shook his head, gazing out across the others.“And after ten years, too,” he muttered. Jocasta seemed to shrink back, ever so slightly, from his eyes. “Any other matters?” he inquired, businesslike again.
Ayla reaches for the plate of churros, helping herself to the cinnamon as she sprinkles some on, drizzling warm coca upon them. She turns to look towards Jocasta, “Would you like some?”, offering to give the plate to the girl and reach for some more. She extends this courtesy to others within the group, especially those who have not had the pleasure of Torragonese treats before. Yalen accepted his share, but seemed more interested in staring at the steam rising from his plate than actually eating. He quietly offered his thanks all the same.
Zarina figured as much and merely responded with a quick cock of her eyebrows when the information was withheld, but she nodded at the compensation given by the warden. She took a bite from her churro and downed it with her still very warm coffee, all while still standing. Someone was quite restless even after the all-nighter, “So he’s a deserter?” she pauses and winks over at Ayla if she paid attention. Bad pun…
“It would appear so,” the warden replied, as Jocasta muttered something under her breath. He didn’t seem to notice, perhaps because Zarina continued.
“That’s … Unsettling. Do you have, err-” she raises her eyes, thinking for a few seconds, “A contingency? That’s the word, right? If things kind of go not so great?” she keeps calm, eyes wide and focused right at Tavio, all while she casually nibbles on her pastry, “Because that’s a lot of souls. And we’re …” she was about to say a greater number, “One guy down. And the job’s to save lives.”
“The job is always to save lives.” The warden nodded. “Worse comes to worst, we make a formal request to the Duke of House Frannemàs to send a force.” He shook his head. “However, that is something of a last resort. It would be… stressful for the patients. Right now, they don’t know that anything is wrong, except for a select few.” He glanced at Marceline and she nodded quietly. “For many of the younger ones, such danger would be distressing. We don’t need to fill the minds of children with nightmares, especially children who have already suffered so much and will suffer yet more.” He paused. “For the older ones, many of them are in fragile health. We cannot afford to introduce more stressors into their lives.” Beneath the table, visible to perhaps only the couple of people closest to her, Jocasta’s grip on the tablecloth tightened momentarily.
For a moment, Zarina appeared poised to respond and pile on questions that would give way to a clear answer, but then she just stopped and took a seat not too far off from Marceline while the others took turns speaking. She could use a second churro, “Mmm, by the way, love this. Props to your cook. Or baker. Or whatever.” she nods enthusiastically while pointing down at her second delicacy. “You should see their Pastéis de Nata,” Marceline whispered back. Usually not for us inmates, but I get the odd one when I’m a good girl.”
Meanwhile, Ayla could not help but notice how tense her companions at the table had grown. What was said on the high desert sands stays upon the desert sands as she attempts to cup Jocasta’s hand within her own. “Shai-Desierto is a nightmare which the children in Varrahasta even fear, it is not surprising that those here experience its terror. If it becomes like the Halassa, no one will rest easy in their beds”.
“They may rest eternally, with Echerràn,” Tavio replied grimly, catching her words just as he was done with another inquiry. “The truth is that Shai can break through these walls should she really so choose. She does not, for the cost would be too great. Were she to go mad, however…” He trailed off. “That is why this is so urgent.” He scowled. “Why even a brave man like Joaquin gave into his fear; why Gabriel expired from it.” For a moment, Marceline glanced his way, as if she had something to say, but she kept quiet and looked down at her plate instead.
Zarina took more notice of her neighbour, the one that had her name distinctly carved on the big tree. Her stare was obvious, maybe even overwhelming should the tethered girl be paying attention, “How are we feeling, Marceline? Marcelina? Sorry, bad with names.” she smiled and even offered to fill the girl’s cup with some coffee Zarina refilled herself with, “I’m Zarina, by the way.” she extends her hand out invitingly.
Marceline blushed“Oh Gods, I didn’t actually learn your name last night did I?” She swallowed and shook Zarina’s hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Zarina, and it’s Marceline.” She lowered her voice further. ”The Warden just insists on making my name sound more Torragonese, even though I’m pretty sure I’m Kerreman.” Just then, Tavio glanced their way. “Did you have a concern, my dear child?” he asked the younger girl. She shook her head. “Not truly. I was just sad about Garbiel and Joaquin.”
The warden smiled understandingly. “I know that you and Joaquin were… close. I am sorry he has disappointed you like this, my Marcelina.” A tight nod and smile was the girl’s only response. “Now, if there is nothing else, I need to see to finding his replacement.” Tavio clapped his hands together. “I will meet you in…” He glanced at the large clock mounted on the wall. “One hour and a half. In the sun-shelter by the gate.”
Ayla used the opportunity to make a request “Given we have time, could we request Marcelina to give us a tour? We could use an opportunity to awaken for the trials ahead of us. A stretch of the le.. Our muscles”, she turned to face the girl, as if the warden had already consented, offering her a warm friendly smile, “If we are not imposing too much on your busy schedule and your hospitality, we would greatly appreciate the gesture.”
Ayla was quite the Godsend in this situation, as Zarina had finally felt her nerves flare. When the warden came off as strangely possessive, the ‘My’ in particular, the Virangish teen could not help herself. She first just stared at him, still processing why it irritated her, and then narrowed her gaze to a brief glare when it happened again. How easily she would have snapped if someone talked to her like that. She shook her head when Ayla spoke up and just nodded in agreement with the lion’s proposal.
Tavio Ortega may or may not have recognized the ploy for what it was, but it was clear that he trusted ‘Marcelina’ enough to go along with it if it would just keep them out of his hair while he arranged for them to go and kill things in the desert. He waved a hand almost…dismissively. “You may go.” he replied. “Of course.” His eyes found Marceline’s. “Lead them prudently,” he told the girl, taking a few steps. “Remember, one hour and a half, by the gate!” He was talking as he backed away, and Vice-Warden Mirabel joined him. She had not said a word the entire time. “We have general supplies, but if you need anything specific, that is on you to have ready.”
“Muchas Gracias.” Zarina forced a smile and lazily waved, but did not put any heart in her tone.
“De nada,” he replied, with equal enthusiasm, disappearing around the corner. When the warden was gone, she exhaled from her nostrils, “MY Marcelina,” she tittered while addressing Marceline, “everyone gets the honour here or something? Or are you that special?” she looked annoyed, but articulating it did seem to calm her, enough so to make it seem like half-hearted humour.
Ayla mumbled,“Las paredes oyen - the walls are listening”, she draws upon her gift to shield from any eavesdropping, though sound within the space begins to echo as they spoke. “Ahora ellas no son - now they’re not.”
“What sort of place do you think this is?” prodded Marceline unconvincingly, grabbing a crutch and rising to her feet. “Surely, nothing but goodness and light happens here.” She rolled her eyes. “The warden seems to think of himself as our father rather than our jailer.” With a rather hedonistic flair, she leaned over and popped one last churro into her mouth, licking the cinnamon off of her fingers when finished. “Those of us who learn to humour him are more likely to receive certain privileges.”
Zarina snorted, “Smart girl. You play the role well.” she then gives a curt nod to Ayla as a thanks for covering them.
Jocasta sighed. “S-seems very much like the Refuge where… where I was,” she agreed, using a minor telekinesis spell to grab a few more of the treats and pack them into a little bag that hung off the back of her wheeled–chair. “Good girls get special privileges, so you learn to be a good girl.”
“Mein Gott!” replied Marceline, “You were in a Refuge?” She blinked. “I had thought to ask but didn’t want to be insensitive. How did you ever get out?” She turned to regard the rather quiet Yalen. “You too?”
Yalen shook his head in the negative. “...No…” The entire time Yalen sat at the table, he had been staring at his food like a lifeless doll without taking an active part in the discussion. He could sometimes be seen glancing fearfully at Jocasta. There were shadows under his eyes indicating a severe lack of sleep.
Taking notice of Yalen’s predicament, one Zarina was all too familiar with, she took it upon herself to fill his cup with an almost excessive amount of coffee with some added sugar, “Drink. All of it.” she ordered with a stern tone, her eyes never leaving his frame until he complied, “We should pursue this while ‘touring’, or else they’ll get on our ass.” the Virangish girl stood up, bringing a third churro and her filled cup with her.
”T-thanks.“The coffee was too hot for Yalen’s sensitive tongue, but he didn’t bother waiting for it to cool before gulping it down. He didn’t particularly care right now. The look he gave Zarina as she left her seat was like seeing a ghost.
“You’re not wrong,” Marceline offered in response to Zarina’s earlier recommendation. Pivoting jauntily, she hurried forward with a motion halfway between a brisk walk and a normal swing-through on her crutches. “I’ll give you the grand tour,” she promised, “and answer any questions that might come up.” She started to lead them out the door. “Today’s activity day,” she mentioned, “So everybody’s out and about. Well… except for the zeros, of course. Anyways, it’s busy.”
Before everybody could make it out in the hall, which simmered, open to the elements, under a colonnade, Jocasta spoke up. She glanced awkwardly in Yalen’s direction and then at the others, with a small, reassuring smile. Yalen’s eyes grew wide for a split second, but he quickly straightened his face out and smiled back. “You... you all go on w-without me,” she told them, a couple of pushes from the entrance. The sequins and faux-gold embroidery on her green and white dress caught a few rays of the desert sun and sparkled and her blonde hair, done up in an elaborate fashion, shone in a halo about her head. “I have… s-something else I need to do quickly.”
Ayla waves Jocasta off as everyone else departs for their tour, pointing towards the clock with a smile as a reminder of the time they need to be back at the gate. As they travelled for a moment, she began to address their guide using her proper name, “Marceline, the naranja are juicy here. Do you enjoy the fruit often?”, her question is more of a prompt to Zarina to remind her of their late night exploration.
Zarina conferred a final glance at Jocasta before the group would be completely severed and they went their own way. The late night expedition had made both Zarina and Ayla familiar with some of the area already, “Quite a cute spot, with all the initials and names there. Reminds me of that one time when I-” she pauses and clears her throat, “Nevermind.” although she trained her eyes toward Marceline from behind, “... How many staffers are there? I actually did have a good reason for asking, beyond prodding the guy.”
Trying to stay ahead of the others, as was her nature, Marci found herself unable to do so, and so she settled for being in the middle of the pack. As they reached the ramp and the stairs, she opted for the latter, boosting herself down with some kinetic magic. She glanced back at Ayla and Zarina and smirked knowingly. “You two got up to a whole lot of mischief last night, hmm?” She stuck out her tongue teasingly. “As for staff…” she furrowed her brow in thought. “Maybe a hundred or so? Perhaps… a hundred-fifteen, I’d say. They don’t give us exact figures, but they cut wherever they can, lemme tell you.” She shrugged. “Most of them are caretakers and crafters. We call them magpies and pigeons, for their robes and their… tendencies.”
Yalen descended the stairs like a waddling duck, to the amusement of the rest of the group. For once he was walking without the aid of his cane. The leg braces he had requested last night still needed to be broken in. Marci couldn’t help but look at him. “You’re still on four,” she observed almost reverently. “Lucky.” They reached the bottom and she continued on, directing them towards the pool area. It was teeming with half-dressed children and teens. “And yes. That tree is an institution.” She smiled fondly. “Everyone eats the oranges. Everyone’s name is in the bark…including people long gone.”
As they descended, Zarina kept an eye on both the front and the back, being Yalen’s clumsy descent. She had half a mind to help, her body language even suggested hesitation, but she instead let him push through, “Keep at it, hotshot, and you’ll be faster than me.” she winked before continuing onwards. Taking in the air of the pool and the laughter of kids having fun, Zarina stretched her arms open, prompting a yawn in the process, and just let the damper air hit her, “Anyone feel just a little tempted?” she shrugged with an impish grin. She nodded at the mention of the tree’s popularity, “Names, cute hearts.” she tilts her head, “Dates. Any particular meaning to any of it, Marcel- Is Marci good? I like that, actually.” she nudges her head toward Ayla, “She calls me Zaz after all.”
However, before Marci could reply, a small curly ball of energy came streaking out of the pool, headed straight for their group or, rather, one member of it in particular. “Mistuh Yawen!” Rita made it a few more steps before tripping over her own feet and only managing to avoid a faceplant by sticking her hands out and absorbing the impact. She lay there on her stomach for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to cry. They apparently didn’t have swimsuits, so the kid was in her underwear and showing a fair bit of plumber’s crack. “Oww,” she pouted.
“Rita!” Yalen broke away from the tour group, nearly tripping on his own feet in the process. In the same moment he tore off the outer coat of his uniform and wrapped it around the child’s body to preserve her modesty. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”
Apparently comforted, she returned to a more neutral expression, quirking an eyebrow. “Owaph,” she muttered. “Whewe doesn’t it huwt?” She rolled onto her back and sat up, examining her palms and rubbing at her knees.
Possessed of an instinct similar to Yalen’s, Marceline was about to go over herself but, with a quick reassurance, the priest decided to separate from the rest of the group to see to the girl. Before Marci turned back to Zarina, she watched them go. “More falls are coming in the future,” she said softly, before forcing her face into another expression. “But sure, you can call me Marci, as long as there’s no stupid ‘a’ at the end.” She rolled her eyes, almost as if she was trying to act cool in front of the older teens. “Yes, the stupid ‘a’.” Zarina nodded, lips pursed as she let it sink in, “It’d be REALLY dumb to have that in a name. Right, AylA?” she exaggerated just how vexed she was, and after a brief moment she ended up laughing, “I’m messing.” Ayla was counting the classmates with her fingers. Ayla, Ysilla, Zarina, Jocasta, Kaspa, Yalena… they were not getting entry in the cool club any time soon.
Marci, who’d looked nervous for a moment, relaxed into a smile and a blush. “I’m always so bad at telling, ” she admitted. Around them, people in various states of ambulation moved about the pool area, many within the water. Plenty of eyes were turned their way, but nobody interrupted them. As they watched, a boy and a girl about the age of the students were carving their names into the tree. Funnily enough, the boy bore a striking resemblance to their own Kaspar. “And yeah, the tree,” said Marci. “Those two just reminded me: there are lots of meanings. Sometimes the little kids just do dumb stuff.” She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Lots of dicks. Then, we get the lovers.” She tried not to linger on the two by the tree.“Like everyone over sixteen just has a lot of… you know.” She blushed. “Not much else to do.” She moved on, taking them under the shade.“Most dates are arrival or name dates, since you get a new name when you come here. Usually someone older takes you under their wing and carves them for you.” She sniffed, settling awkwardly onto a bench, and her yellow summer dress fluttered in a gentle breeze. “Ones in circles are first day on two - that means when your legs stop doing shit and you get your chair.” She shrugged. “That’s about it, I think.”
Kaspar’s eyes drifted to the tree, scanning the branches and admiring its shape. This kind of tree was unfamiliar to him, as he didn’t study the plants of Torragon, but it pulled him in like so many other plants had in his time. Keeping the voices of the group half in mind, he stepped away, head tilted as he noted the particular shapes of the leaves, the contrast between the bark and the bright fruits that dangled temptingly from the branches. He reached up, fingers skimming one, and wondered passively if it would keep until he had a notebook in hand. Willing to chance it, he grasped the fruit fully and tugged, detaching it from the branch and watching the leaves bounce in response. He palmed the fruit, turning it over, and then found himself wondering what, precisely, his plan for storing it was. Feeling a bit sheepish at the way he’d been distracted by the tree, Kaspar glanced around to see if anyone—most of all his fellow students—had noticed his captivation. His red eyes trailed down, sweeping around, and froze near the trunk. His brow furrowed, unbidden, as he stared at the couple carving into the bark, and a coldness crept up the skin of his back. The girl was unfamiliar, but there was something unsettlingly recognizable about the boy, like Kaspar should know him from somewhere. It took him another moment of openly staring to realize just how strongly the stranger’s face resembled his own—the most noticeable difference being in the differing colors of their eyes. For a moment, he felt as though he were looking at some distant timeline in which he’d simply been disposed of, placed far away where no one would ask any questions. It burned hot in his gut, flooding his mind with everything he’d spent the past night pushing away. It almost seemed like he could smell the blood again, coating his stinging palms… And the pain forced his awareness back, red eyes sliding down to the fruit still gripped in his hand. The skin was mottled and leaking, pooling on his scraped flesh and dripping to the ground as his Gift peeled at it. The juice was sticky against his skin, not warm or red but still enough. Startled, he dropped the fruit to the ground where it thudded gently and rolled, leaving the stone wet beneath it. Breathing raggedly, he backed away, trying to find his classmates and their guide. The boy didn’t matter, nor did any path but this one. Kaspar could simply push him away, every boy he’d ever been, and forget this moment in the garden. If it truly wouldn’t leave his mind, as part of him perhaps so dearly hoped, the carving would still be fresh—and it’s not as if the boy could leave.
Ayla, meanwhile, decided to push the boat out a little further, though avoiding being direct. “There are a couple of pretty ones within a clover. Amanda, Consuela… ” she pauses for a moment, “There are lots of A’s… does the four-leafed clover signify anything?” choosing to refrain from mentioning Marci’s own name. Zarina kept silent, her face not directly geared toward the younger tethered girl, but her eyes were very much peering in her direction. She also crossed her arms– she didn’t know what was coming, but she braced herself for anything.
Marceline paused and something flickered across her face. “Wanna see where the aqueduct comes in?” she asked pointedly.
Ayla tilts her head at the sudden tangent, it stuck out like a sore thumb, awkward and disjointed. “Seems there are more names in the clovers, taking a closer look” the implication left to hang awkwardly, allowing Marci to answer the question with privacy. Zarina sighed somewhat loudly from her nose, catching on to the situation as quickly as Ayla, although the potential undertones and the idea of prison-life weighed on her mood. She stood close, not behind but by Marceline, as a rather tall individual and hoped to provide some semblance of safety and discretion with the proximity without actually touching the girl, “Nothing here but us girls, and maybe a few flailing kiddos.” she mumbled under her breath.
“You remember what Ayla said about the walls in the dining room?” Marci suggested, trying not to let out an annoyed sigh. “It isn’t just the walls. I think we should go see the aqueduct. Nobody ever gets to see it and I kinda like it there. It’s peaceful.” She began walking. Ayla gave a nod, “Always wondered where you find water in the desert, please show us the way.” Zarina looked side to side, checking if they didn’t have any unwanted tails or little worms that whispered to their avian masters.
When they arrived, they found an ancient aqueduct, dating back perhaps to Avincian times, though Avince itself had never conquered the High Desert. It stretched off into the distant highlands. Here, where it spilled over the wall into a great copper and ceramic holding tank, there was nobody to be seen. Marci turned awkwardly on her heel and regarded them. “Your friend there - the one in the chair – she told you about these places, and what they’re like.” The tethered girl sighed, gazing wistfully down at her feet before looking up. “The clovers are from when they recruit you.” She sniffed and rubbed at her nose. “Some of us: the more powerful ones, the more biddable ones: they… train us.” Her eyes flash challengingly for a moment. “People treat us like we’re useless, like we’re a liability. We will never be anything or do anything of worth, and they teach us plenty of that in the refuge.” She chuckled bitterly, sounding eerily like Jocasta last night. “but a Tethered who is trained in the Gift is superior to all other magic users. We are not limited to the tiny world of perhaps a hundred yards. We can draw from miles distant. We can sense from miles distant. We can strike from miles distant.” She nods knowingly. “I haven’t been called up yet - likely when I’m sixteen, if they have their way - but I’m in training.” She shrugged, letting herself lean clumsily against a ceramic pipe. “And if you wanna know why we do it,” she snorted, “What else is there to do? What other chance at a life do we get to live?” She gazed out blankly up the aqueduct. “I will never get to build something great, like this, that lasts for a thousand years. I will leave no descendants. My name will not be written in anybody’s books. We’re all disposable here. If something happens to us on a mission, then it was because of the Tethering.” She turned her eyes back to them, expression even, mouth a thin line.
Ayla pauses for a moment as she listens, contemplating the words, simply trying to imagine. “So the Tethered are used as weapons, powerful ones.”, she recalls how Jocasta and Yalen dealt with the Halassa, the strength they showed, and also the strength that was hidden. There were many questions that she wanted to ask, though some could wait, “Do you know where the Aberration is located, does your skill extend that far?”
Marceline sighed vexedly. “I should be able to sense it, but I can’t.” She shook her head. “Normally, finding the little aberrations isn’t a problem, so I have to assume that it’s far: outside of even Tethered range.” She shrugged helplessly.
“If so, Jocasta and even Yalen can likely sniff it out too.” Zarina kept her arms crossed the whole time as she listened, and one could easily notice her scowl growing on her expression. It wasn’t indignation as one might imagine, but a growing frustration toward Marceline’s words and disposition. When the tethered girl sought to justify her decision, a ‘Tsk’ escaped the Virangish girl, ”The strongest among mages, shuddering before the worms that have crawled in this establishment.” she shook her head with venom in her voice, ”Have you just given up, Marci? Is self-pity just that comforting? Given you’re fully aware of your situation, it’s not like they have a full grasp of you.” eyebrows cocked, Zarina leaned forward a little, invading the tethered’s space a little, ”And, you know what?” her voice raises a tad, ”Who cares if you don’t accomplish memorable things? Most people don’t.” she purses her lips and backs off a little, ”Most won’t. Slaves and Royals alike.”
Marceline shrunk back from the display and stumbled slightly as this near-stranger invaded her space. She took a second to reevaluate what she was going to say and what she was willing to reveal. This one was too aggressive: an eagle or an owl in manner. Such people judged. They judged quickly and often wrongly and were eager to speak on it. The fourteen-year-old decided that it was not safe to ask her question nor share her final secret. Perhaps she had already said too much. There was the Tethered girl among them, and the Tethered boy. They would understand her better and the former had even said the words. She knew Him or knew of Him. Perhaps she would be better to ask. Marceline blinked. “With all due respect, you haven’t lived my life, so don’t condescend to tell me how to think. I already get enough of that, thank you.” Her eyes narrowed momentarily and she grabbed her crutches. “Anyhow, I think you have your answer. We should go back now.” She turned and took a few steps, annoyed at her inability to outpace this group. “I invite you to enjoy our pool facilities,” she threw over her shoulder. “As for me, I have things to do.”
Ayla has her eyes flash towards Zarina, the smaller girl was visually shaking in the spot, “Jo told us all about these places, and this is what you came out with? You… babaca!”, moving to place herself between the exit where Marciline was leaving and Zarina. ”You are some estrangeiro who has just entered their home, already judging her from your pedestal. What are you expecting, her to walk out of here into the open deserto in her braces... And where? This is the only home she knows, this is the only family she knows.” She glares up at the taller woman, not being intimidated by the height difference, and in a lower voice, “and even if she did somehow walk out of here and somehow survive, what about the rest, bring her family with her too? Without his little treasure, who will senhor pervertido target next, her little sister Rita?” She taps upon the side of her head with her finger, then mimes her voice with her hand, “Pense antes de falar - Think before you speak”.
It went about as expected, Marceline took it the way she should and Ayla was left revolted. Zarina, however, exhaled peacefully as the tethered girl ‘walked’ away. When the inevitable verbal spanking came to be, she just passively peered toward Ayla’s direction and took it, only to flinch at ‘Babaca’. That was new, but then the lecturing began and again the same steam that pressurised her sensitive, sleepless head began to accumulate again. Her jaw shifted, causing her teeth to briefly grate against each other, “If I have to hear another fucking pity-party story, see innocent little lamb-to-the-slaughter eyes or play moral counseler one more time, I’m going to take the fucking naranjas and shove them up the warden’s trimmed asshole. And cut the fucking tree.” as humorous as the imagery was, the growing anger in Zarina was palpable in her voice alone, and her body language would not leave anyone feeling reassured. She was clenching her crossed arms, nearly damaging the fabric of her top, and her face began to look a tad redder. It made it somewhat easier to see just how much her sleepless night affected her features when she was flexing them all like that, “I’m here to do one job, I don’t have to be moral support.” she shakes her head, “Most powerful mage …” she mumbles before scoffing. Quite the disproportionate anger for just some lost fourteen year old. The clenching became bad enough that her nails were viciously digging into her skin through the top, leaving marks. She gestures in dismissal, “Tell her I’m a babaca and you’re outraged or something if you care. I need to prepare for the job.”
Worked up, tired and with a killer headache, Zarina passed both Ayla and Marceline to reach the sanctity of her mostly unused quarters. A brief breathing exercise and some water helped with the head, but as she composed herself, the all-too-common realisation of the fruit of her impulse made her slip. A weighted punch was thrown toward the wooden edge of her bed frame, causing it to crack and her knuckles to suffer some light damage. Heavy breathing became light hyperventilating- nothing she couldn’t control, but it did not help the case of her increasingly pained head.
”Fuck.” she cursed with as much restraint as she could muster before turning her head to the pendant she had left on the nightstand the whole time. It was time to pray, but how could she? So much anger, so much regret that bred even more anger. Again, she had to keep her mind distracted. Food, water, knives, rope, everything one would need for basic survival in the desert, just as she was taught by her papy, were accumulated and put into different bags provided by the Refuge. Most of all: Cloaks, adapted for the climate and made to protect from potential storms. If they had ranger getups available, then all the better, Zarina was all over them. She was almost ‘zoned out’, completely separated from all those that passed by her and tunnel-visioned on completing this rudimentary task. At least the group would be somewhat prepared this time.
And finally, she made a trip to the stables, to see if they had any mount capable of helping those limited like Yalen or even Kaspar. If anything, she would take one for herself too, even if the Gift allowed her to effectively navigate faster without one.
Jocasta is clingy this morning. Hand-holding all around. Warden is reluctant to share numbers of staff. Yalen is distant and preoccupied in his mannerisms. Must have slept badly last night. Sand Wyrm doesn't break through the refugee walls as the cost would outweigh the benefits. If it were to go mad because of the Aberration, the children would be in grave danger. Marceline is called 'My Marcelina' by the Warden. Intentional 'a' at the end. More Torragonese that way. Due to the need for a replacement ranger, the party has an hour and half to do what they wish. Marceline provides a tour, away from the staff, allowing the group to ask questions in private. Jocasta disappeared with Yalen for a bit, then went off on her own. Marceline suggests there are about 115 staff at the refuge. Yalen reunites with Rita, assisting her to become modest. Kaspar sees someone who looks like himself. Triggers his trauma and abandonment issues. Marceline explains that the four-leaf clover is a sign of being chosen to be trained as a weapon. If trained the right way, they can sense and use their gift from miles away. The Aberration is not within tethered range. Zarina slips loses her cool with Marceline, she chooses not to share the final clue. Perhaps something for Yalen or Jocasta to explore due to possibly being more understanding due to the status of the tethered.
Ingrid wasn't naïve enough to think Benedetto would simply take this laying down but she didn't expect a rant. Benedetto's gathering energy was threatening but his words lacked the substance to make an impact on Ingrid at the moment. He seemed to be on the edge from even some resistance to his actions like a child being questioned. Ingrid couldn't make sense if this was truly his thoughts or emotions being enhanced by the fight he was in. Something wasn't right with him so Ingrid kept her guard up around him knowing she couldn't do anything against him.
As Benedetto made his exit, Ingrid was mostly done with the conversation. She expected to be threatened as he seemed to be a bit nutty but instead he ranted. Whatever the case, Ingrid had to go get the people out of the destroyed buildings. Ingrid started with the building that she destroyed. Carefully but with haste, Ingrid removed the debris revealing the injured. This situation wasn't dissimilar to the lessons she has been taught how to remove debris if a mine ever collapsed when she was inside or to help save the minors. Ingrid was grateful for all those boring classes in evacuation and rescue her family forced her to learn. Grimace took hold of her face as she revealed one gratuitous injury one after another. I have to at least try to help especially when I'm the one who caused their misfortune. Ingrid hadn't seen any of the dead yet by the time the princess came to.
Trypano gave some basic instructions to keep the ball rolling. Ingrid couldn't trust the princess with how big her gestures were and how she referred to the pentad. Ingrid has met many nobles and they are always worried about optics. Ingrid would bet the same about a princess. The gathering energy in the princess made Ingrid suspicious of her. Ingrid wasn't sure if her teammates saw the princess take off into the sky so easily before she was captured. Ingrid decided it best to keep a side-eye on the conversation while clearing the rubble. Ingrid noticed Desmond's message but she already is suspicious of the princess.
