They were still going in there. It was only a brief moment when his performance finale had ceased all the fighting. But now it had begun again, too long for comfort and it only worsened. When would it end? Even then he dreaded the idea of what it would all look like after it all went quiet. Leon heard the sound between laboured breaths and was comforted by the cost of using his power so selfishly. At what cost was this lyre won? Would it truly do more good to make up for what is happening now? Who knew, but Leon’s mind delved into the matter. Guilt was not something the boy had often felt in the past.
"You must not be very good at hide-and-seek, seeing as you're just standing about here in the open."
Leon was looking away, out into the water when Carmillia met him under the verandah. The second the sound of her voice reached him, his breathing was suddenly under control and he spun around with a smile. But she heard it, who was he trying to fool and what was he trying to say with such a front. I am Leon Solaire. I am invincible. What a silly display it must seem in Carmillia’s eyes, but to Leon, it held great importance.
Leon chuckled in response to his moonlit companions quip. "It is true. I have never been very good at hiding. But I would like to think I have learned how to be found by the right people." Leon pushed himself off his leaned position on the railing and calmly walked toward Carmillia. Then he reached out a hand as if inviting her to dance. The sound of the riot raged on but he kept a closed-lip smile. "The music is hardly adequate, I know, but I would like to dance while we talk." There were traces of an uncharacteristically serious undertone in Leon's voice. It was certainly a departure from his celebrity persona, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Like a mask starting to slip.
"Your hand won’t slip through me this time. I promise."
One by one, the six students plus Marci trickled in through Jocasta's portal and faced the room's lone occupant. There on her bed, leaning cross-legged against a corner, was the waifish figure of Amanda. Her room was lit by an oil lantern and a candle. Moonlight streamed in through a small window. As Jocasta entered, a large smile creased the older woman's lips. The palms of her hands, which lay open on her lap, lit up with an arcane glow. "Hello... Jocasta," she said softly, her eyes going to the others, "I take it you're the friends that she mentioned."
Jocasta nodded, coming to a stop. "I see your powers of deduction remain strong."
Amanda smiled and let out a little snort. "Ah!" she chirped, "and Marci!"
"And Marci."
"I'm not a friend?" the girl protested.
"You're much better than a friend, mija. Come here and sit beside me."
Marci more or less threw herself onto the bed, snuggling delicately into Amanda's side, for just a moment so utterly unlike the precocious girl they'd gotten to know to this point. "Mom," she said softly, laying her head on the older woman's shoulder. She grinned. "Hey, isn't it past your bedtime?" Amanda planted a small kiss on the top of it. "Isn't it past yours, precious little pumpkin?"
"You're laying it on really thick," Marci whined, but her mother was already looking out at the others. "The expedition was a proper disaster, I trust?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly. "We have a giant, angry dragon headed our way?" She tilted her head to the side momentarily.
Marceline, beside her, nodded glumly. A limp-wristed hand reached up to stroke her hair. "Don't worry, little pumpkin." The girl flashed her a stink-eye, but Amanda was looking at the others. "There is much to worry about, of course, for all of us, but I think I know how we can overcome this and, dare I say, a great many other problems." She pursed her lips, and the glow in her palms lit her face from below with a certain dramatic flare as her expression morphed into an enigmatic grin. "First, though, I imagine you've questions and ideas of your own and you've received precious few answers in this place. I have lived here thirty-one years and I'm an open book."
Leaning back on an ancient desk in the old Tourrare style, elbows propped against it, Jocasta pushed off. She tipped forward and her front wheels hit the round with a light 'clunk.' "For what it's worth," she offered, "so am I, and I used to live here too."
Zarina
Another tear in the fabric reality and another reminder of just how out of their league Jocasta truly was. Zarina was somewhat reluctant to step in, even if she would end up being one of the first to do so, her gait wasn’t nearly as confident as it could be. At least the scene unfolding before them was sweet enough to even allow this sleep-deprived bundle of suspicion to relax. The family dynamic unfolding before her, however, prompted a brief raise of brows.
Stepping to the corner of the room closest to Amanda’s bed, Zarina kept her distance while keeping eyes on the unmoving queen of these chambers. Arms crossed and her shoulder leaned against the wooden beam, she couldn’t help but smile at Marceline’s delight, and even Jocasta’s own relief. Then came the time for questions and needed talks, so she took the initiative, ”Agreed. There’s a lot I’d wanna know.” she spoke up calmly, loud enough to ensure those in the room heard her and didn’t speak over her, ”But with our task failing successfully, we’ve got a very real issue on our hands. And I’m not about to ask the authority of the Refuge for suggestions,” she exhales heated steam from her nostrils, ”given we were supposed to be THE plan. So, I’m very interested in knowing what plan you may have, Amanda. Me and probably everyone that doesn’t wanna be Wyrm chow, anyway.”
The Virangish pauses, hand risen over her mouth as if she was withholding something and her eyes squinted, ”Oh. Yeah. Wait, you probably don’t know our names. Probably. I’m Zarina.” she gestures toward herself while performing the brief introduction.
Kaspar
Kaspar relegated himself to a corner, looking far more alert than he had on the journey back. He was cleaned of blood, though the dark split down the right side of his lip was still there. His crimson eyes scanned the room and the faces, recognizing most.
His eyes flitted to Zarina as she began to speak, and the boy was not surprised; both her presence and her personality seemed to be that of a leader. He didn’t mind, as he so often kept himself to the quiet background. Someone would need to speak—though he imagined few of his classmates would have issues.
Though, as she finished her statement with an introduction, he took half a step forward and dipped his head respectfully. ”I am Kaspar,” he said, voice soft as he placed a hand against his chest.
Yalen
"My name is Yalen. I believe this is our first meeting miss Amanda." The blonde priest clasped his hands together and gave her a shallow bow. "I have a number of questions to ask you, but seeing as they do not pertain to the coming disaster perhaps I should save them for later."
It All Comes Out
Amanda blinked. Not a day went by when she didn't curse her disease at least once, but there were rare moments when the lack of body language was to her benefit.
This was one such moment.
They were all so... formal around her, like she was some sort of revered elder or whatever. She had to pull a bit on the Gift to keep the redness from her cheeks. "It's... a pleasure to meet you all, and please forgive me if I have to ask you for names thrice more. I've heard people go senile at my age." She smirked. They were teens, the whole group, and something about them reminded her of a moment, half a lifetime ago, when it had been her in their position, gathered with two of her fellow Afortunados, green and nervous, a handful of young soldiers they'd befriended, and him: Marci's father.
The nature of the danger was different here, however, two-pronged. That from without was clear if not present, and when it reached them or the town, it would mean death if not stopped, but there was a subtler enemy: a poison and inertia in this place that would cripple any response capable of actually taking down the aberration-mad beast. Warden Ortega was a fearful man. For all that he tried to exude power and confidence, she could see it in his posture and feel it in his eyes. He would rather risk feeding the fire with more lives than changing the way that he did things. He knew the abuses. He had looked away from them for years. He was paranoid that at least one among the Tethered, were they to know their true power, would come for his head. He would let others die so that he might continue to live as he pleased.
She realised that she had sunk into thought for a moment and found herself both embarrassed and worried. It was ever a struggle, these days, to remind people that her mind was as sharp and functional as ever, even if her body had all but given up. "Sorry," she joked, marshalling a rueful smile onward, "going senile after all, it appears." Consuela - no, Jocasta - had opened another portal. The Afortunado were entering, from Oscar, the oldest, to Laelle, the newest initiate. Abdel, who the cardinals disliked so, and Felix and Luisa, the lovers who were ever nestled beneath the ranches of the Great Naranja. With quiet greetings and mostly solemn faces, they took their places. Amanda could feel herself slipping to the side as Marci shifted and was about to pull upon the Gift to right herself, when the girl pushed her gently back upright.
"Zarina speaks truly," she began, heart pounding, or so she imagined. She chose her next words carefully. "They are not friends, but... keepers at best, and a keeper's job is to placate the beasts." Her eyes darted from face to face. "We have an army here," she continued. "It's that simple. Four hundred Tethered, plus yourselves and the Afortunado, with even rudimentary training, will make short work of that Wyrm, aberration-mad or not." A stray lock of hair had spilled over one of her eyes and Marci reached up to brush it free. "Thank you, mi vida," said mother to daughter.
"De nada."
"The problem is," Amanda concluded, "the warden and much of the staff, especially those with guilty consciences, will never let it happen. They fear that we will rise up and kill them all." Her eyes flicked over in Jocasta’s direction. “But they are wrong. We do not want violence. We want purpose: to be people, like all of you are. Yet, we are not whilst we are here, and we will never be so long as they remain in charge.” Again, her eyes found Jocasta, and the younger woman took up the story.
“By now, All of you know that I used to live here, and now you've also seen the Gift that I have." She shrugged and knitted her hands in her lap, not quite knowing what to do with them. "When I was eleven, I was asked to join the Afortunado because I would use my power with or without training, and it was a way for them to control me. Nobody here would ever say no, and I was no exception. Maybe you've seen those clovers on the tree. You've seen the one for Consuela.” Jocasta pursed her lips for a moment and nodded. “She was somebody dear to me: somebody I saw every day. Like mine, her memories were erased when she arrived here and, with them, much of who she was. For most of us, the abuses of the Refuge are subtle things: brainwashing, a design meant to confine rather than free us, a stunted sense of purpose, experiments that don't feel like what they are, drugs in your food once you hit puberty to make you less... hormonal, to keep you sleepy and weak. Consuela avoided a lot of that by being one of the ‘Lucky Ones’. She trained so that, when she turned sixteen, she could be chosen to go on missions and kill people for whoever paid the Regure their price. It was macabre, sure, but she was desperate to see at least a small piece of the world that she knew was out there despite the caretakers’ best efforts to hide it from her."
Jocasta placed her hands nervously on her wheels and rolled back a half-push. For a moment, she was the scared child that Amanda remembered standing by the gatehouse on a dusty Rezaindian day as storm clouds gathered in the sky. It made the elder Tethered miss her arms dearly. How she would've wrapped one each around her daughter and the other she had once called 'little sister'. "Instead," the young woman said quietly, eyes shifting down towards her lap, "a ranger named Gutierrez - Joaquin Gutierrez - raped her." Her fists clenched around the folds of her dress and she looked back up, swallowing. "Again, and again, he raped her. She was neither the first nor the last girl and he was not the only man to do things like that, but I was so afraid of him and those like him - we all were - that there was nothing we dared to do. We believed that they were much stronger than us." Jocasta nodded bitterly. "Consuela was fourteen when he put a baby in her and she was so lost that she hid it for months, until the Vulture found it as he was 'checking on her wellness' one day. She had been throwing up. I always held her hair out of the way." The Tethered reached up, absently, and brushed some hair from her face.
Jocasta's eyes found the window for a moment. She took a deep breath in and let it out. "I went to the warden's office to tell him what Gutierrez had done. I'd had enough of sitting by as he destroyed us.” She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “He told me that it would be alright and that he would handle the problem. He told me what a good girl I was for telling him.” She raised her eyes, daring anyone to interrupt her now. “So they told her that she would have to have her baby elsewhere. That she would have to leave the Refuge for a few months. They fed her a fine meal before departure and Gutierrez sat across from her at the table. Instead, the food was drugged. They strapped her to a table and ripped the baby from her body. They took her out into the desert to murder her and bury the corpse. Two of them disappeared, but the girl was gone too.”
The young woman’s lip quavered. She took a steadying breath. “She looks different now, since she had to change, but sometimes, I still see Consuela,” she said simply, “when I look in the mirror.” Her eyes flashed and she met those of the others, “Because she’s me,” she squeaked, barely choking the last bit out. Jocasta wrapped her arms around herself and a tear raced down her cheek. When a couple of people moved to comfort her, however, she held out a hand to forestall it.
She swallowed momentarily and there was steel in her voice when it returned. “I tell you what I have because I need you to understand - I want you to understand - that this is what a Refuge is like. This is what all of the polite, smiling people in their nice robes condone and continue. They cannot be convinced or reasoned with. This is what happened to me, it was what was soon to happen to Marceline. Someday, it was going to happen to Laelle, to Rita, even to some of the boys. They suffer too. It is why the warden and his flock cannot be in charge and it is why I killed Gutierrez.” She watched them then, a mixture of fear, sadness, defiance, and even fury in her eyes. “That is why I killed the Vulture. They were evil. You would do best,” she warned, “not to condemn my decision.”
After a long moment, Jocasta closed her eyes and breathed: once, twice, and then a third smaller one. She put her hands on her wheels as if about to go somewhere, before realising that there was no space even to manoeuvre in the small, crowded room. Instead, she took her fingertips and drummed on her knees with them. “I will also not kill again,” she promised. “Aside from the warden, the other people here are bad, but not evil. They cannot, however, be left in control.” Jocasta’s eyes took in the entire room. “Tomorrow morning, we will move to neutralise the Owls, the Cardinals, and the Warden. They will fall unconscious. They will be fed the poison they use when they need us sedated. We Tethered will control our destiny.” She looked at Amanda.
“We will train the children to use the Gift and we will employ that against the sand wyrm and any other threats that appear. It will be as nothing for us, even the half-trained. It will die as it needs to, miles from our gates. Then, we will employ the Gift, in peace, to grow our crops, to mend our clothes, and to clean our rooms. Where our bodies may fail us, the Gift shall uplift.”
“Any who come in good faith,” said one of the Afortunado, “are welcome to remain, to teach us, to learn from us, to live among us, but we will not be treated the way that we have been any longer.”
“I’ve been writing a letter,” said Marci. She scooted forward a bit, standing unsteadily. “One mama dictated to me.” Slipping through the crowd, she hobbled over to the ancient desk. From its small drawer, she pulled out a sealed envelope and held it up between her thumb and fingers. “In here is our petition to King Sancho.” She glanced uncertainly at Amanda, who nodded encouragingly for her to continue. She looked the five students in the eyes. “It has our entire plan and how we will make it work. It has our evidence and witness test…” She paused, forgetting a word. “Well, reports and our words, from us. It has our promise to live in peace and to always remain loyal to this country should it need us. With it, we will send the Refuge’s senior staff. Finally, it contains an invitation for the King or someone he trusts as his eyes and ears, to come and visit and see us.” Marci held it out towards the five.
“But it must be delivered,” said Amanda, “by people who do not have a prior stake in our fight. That sends a stronger message. It gives us a better chance.”
Nearly a dozen pairs of eyes, of all colours and ages turned to the five students, watching hopefully.
Ayla feels like she has just entered the Refuge's council of the wise as those who were present are the Afortunado, and those held in high regard. She had listened to the words, words that reflected her own plans and ambitions, it was the perfect moment she was waiting for as an opportunity to spring into action. She had sought counsel with her colleagues, Zarina and Yalen, and despite their misgivings, they saw the great opportunities she could offer.
Ayla brought herself forward after a big breath as she curtsied towards Amanda, with a smaller courtesy towards the others in the crowd. "We are guests to your home, and you have shown us great generosity and friendship in your welcome." She directs herself towards Amanda, whilst her voice seems to appear directed towards all within the room, “We have heard your words and you have shown that our thoughts align greatly, but before we begin, we have a vision that must be shared.”
Ayla begins to start unscrewing the caps of the ink bottles which line along the table. She offers a large smile especially towards the younger ones in the audience, a mischievous grins as something exciting were to begin as she moves her hand to show off the unassuming bottles. The ink starts to rise up like a snake from the bottle, her eyes widened in mock surprise as she notices the innocent wonder in some of the faces as starts to begin her show. Ayla claps her hands towards as the ink blotches start to form shapes in the air, taking on a pictorial format of her words to keep everyone entertained as she spreads her message. Her voice adopts a light sing-song manner, soft and almost mesmerising, practised over a great many performances from back home in Varrahasta.
The tones resonate like honey within the ear drums of those listening, "There is a vision, the creation of a comunidade - community, where those no longer welcomed within society are brought under its roof, providing the protection and warmth of a new casa - home." The ink starts to take shape roughly outlining the refuge, though somehow appearing more welcoming and less foreboding, like a mansion instead of a fort.
"This casa is not in the middle of the desert and remote, surrounded by endless yellow sand, but vibrant with the colour green and a long flowing river.", the ink shines blue as it wiggles through the green alongside the building; those astute in Torragonese geography may associate the wiggle with the characteristic bends of the Arapora river.
"Unlike those that display a fachada, this casa is filled with hope. The casa is filled with a sense of purpose, a casa governed by the very people it serves.", the yellow sun now adorns a smiley face as the mansion seems to glow in contrast to the other ink.
"Life is filled with calamidade - tragedy, this makes us feel vulnerable, scared, and shy away from those around us. This can bring us a life without direction, a life without purpose, a hope without hope.” The Ink starts to become dark and foreboding, now starting to resemble the refuge that those present are familiar with. ”We must do our best not to be scared and stand forte - strong, for a life without purpose, without hope, is a life not worth living at all. What matters in our lives, however long it is, is what we do with it. It is the memories we make, the bonds we forge, the happiness we share." The ink seems to collect together in a ball, then it starts to sprout upwards into the shape of a tree… a naranja tree like the one by the pond! The bark is strong, the leaves glistening green, the fruit ripe and juicy.
"This Refúgio is a place for those with the tethered to die. That casa is a home for those with the tethered to live." A very ripened Naranja fruit drops from the drink as the rest shrink away, peeling and unfolding to create the scene by the river again.
"This Refúgio is a place for those with the tethered to die. That casa is a home for those with the tethered to live." A very ripened Naranja fruit drops from the drink as the rest shrink away, peeling and unfolding to create the scene by the river again.
Ayla looks around the room at every person, a serious gaze, not a smirk or a hint of a joke in sight, "You don’t want a hospício, you want an orfanato, a home where you now have a new family who loves you, a place of safety where you can build your own futures and live it, no matter the length of the days. In this Casa, you are no longer tethered, you shall become the untethered, free to fly like the Rolieiro!" The ink turns into the beautiful blue birds as they flap their wings and disappear back within the ink bottles.
Ayla provides a light bow to those around for politely watching her show before she turns around to talk to Amanda directly, her eyes looking towards Jocasta briefly hoping she has her friends' support.
"Amanda, you are the leader here, not by title but by the respect those here have for you. You have seen my vision, you have seen my intentions. Together, we can make this Casa. It is not a fantastical story, but reality. Ayla Arslan, will use my influence to petition King Sancho to make this so. All that is needed is your support and assistance of the Afortunado, because only by working together can we turn this vision into reality."
Ayla moves forward to offer her arms out in friendship towards Amanda, boldly moving after her display to unite both factions towards this shared purpose.
Yalen chewed on his thumbnail as he absorbed the presentation. He had been told this would happen. He couldn't help but feel they were trying to move past Jocasta's part as quickly as possible, but he did not protest. This wasn't the right place to talk about it, though he had a painful urge to do so. Naturally his shock should have been much greater after hearing Jocasta's admission of guilt, but nobody present was aware of the conversation he'd had prior to arriving here.
The room had grown uncomfortably quiet after Ayla finished her moving speech. It seemed everyone had been stunned silent by the beauty of it. Yalen finally broke that silence with a raised hand.
"I am an outsider, but you can plainly see that I share your burdens." Yalen raised his outer coat so that the brace around his leg could be seen. "At first I was unsure why I was called here, but now I think I know why. I am an example of what you deserve to be, and that is what we will show to the king. This is the promise I made to my friend, and now to all of you. When this is over, you won't just be safe. You will be free. We will make sure of it." Having said his piece, Yalen locked his eyes with Ayla's and nodded. The floor was now open for the others.
With the main issue addressed and the room a tad more populated, Zarina directed her attention to the newcomers and those that were going to be crucial to their endeavour against the maddened beast. One of them was Abdel, the boy who had approached her. She shared a glance with him, prompting her own eyes to narrow. She had thought about him, the previous night, about where she had seen that symbol before. It had only been during the desert trip, however, that it finally hit her.
When Jocasta’s turn came to speak with a conspicuous lack of stuttering, she could very much feel Zarina’s unmoving gaze locked onto her. But that focused stare lost its strength fairly quickly with her brow relenting and her breathing temporarily halted as it all converged into an awful conclusion. Before the blonde even revealed she was Consuela, the Virangish exhaled from her nostrils and lowered her head, eyes closed. Then finally, confirmation of what she had suspected.
Amanda and Ayla then went on to express their ideas. A comfortable contrast to the dark story of the long gone Consuela, ”I have to ask.” she spoke up, right after Yalen’s pledging of his support for the cause of freedom, ”Was this all planned? Our presence here with the aberration and Jo keeping us in one piece?” her arms crossed and her entire back leaned against the wall by the wooden beam.
Zarina’s attention was then directed specifically toward Jocasta, ”I do not condemn anything you’ve done, y’know.” she employs a softer tone than usual as an opener, ”I’d have done the same. If not worse.” she tightened her grips on her own arms as if bracing herself. She firmly stands her ground and solemnly adds, ”But I can’t allow the killing of the Warden. Not if you guys want this happy conclusion to have a chance of happening.”
Kaspar remained silent through Jocasta’s revelation, but his eyes shut and his breathing became very tight and regulated. As horrifying as her story was, it was one that did not sting him with his own experience. He could take the emotions he felt now, move them out of the way, and find something good to do now. For Jocasta, and for all those who had witnessed similar horrors at this so-called refuge. Though something like fear prickled in his chest when she admitted to killing her abusers, Kaspar shoved it away harshly. Perhaps his own code kept him from wanting to hurt another, but he’d never been so wronged as Jocasta—as Consuela had. He refused to pass judgement on her.
Ayla’s speech brought some ease to his frustrated state, even if just for the chance to imagine the bright future they desired. Hearing the conviction his classmates spoke with was heartening, knowing that they felt something like what he felt.
Listening to Zarina’s words, he nodded slowly. With a soft voice, the crimson-eyed boy intoned, “Zarina speaks a likely truth. Killing the Warden, while understandable, may tempt some to see this as a rebellion to be stopped instead of a justified retaking of rights.” His eyes swept the assembly, and paused briefly on Jocasta. While he offered no comforting words—and it seemed she would not welcome them right now—he gave a slow, steady nod. A sign of acceptance, of something bordering agreement.
His gaze continued on, though something wound tighter in his chest with every passing moment. As he reached the other edge of the group, he shut them for a moment and breathed in deeply. “You should be the only one to decide the course of your own life. It is not my place to apologise, and I imagine apologies are not want you want, but I—“ Kaspar paused for a moment, eyes flitting to his classmates before continuing, ”We would like to help secure this future for you—if you’ll allow us.”
Something Solid
There were many kind words spoken, and many earnest ones. Hands were taken in embrace. People held hands and murmured excitedly at Ayla's presentation. One by one, the members of the group pledged their support and Amanda was relieved to find that it was unanimous. She glanced at Jocasta and the younger woman's relief was palpable as well. She let out a long breath, feeling the tension leave her... at least in a sense. It was not as strange as it should've been, to not be able to feel her body anymore: to be a head and a neck detached from all other sensation. Her losses had been gradual and persistent and she had grown used to them.
But I've done it, she thought. At the very end, I have. It was almost too much for her and she blinked back tears. She would see her people free before she died. She would see precious Marci - the smart, beautiful, loving young person who had come from her - free. She would see Consuela, who had been so sweet, gentle, and loving as a child let go of the bitterness that had taken over her soul.
She couldn't hold the tears back any longer and they spilled out of her. Amanda cried: a soft, happy sobbing that heaved her chest and blurred her vision. After a moment of absently trying to wipe away tears with the back of a hand that was not hers to feel, she remembered to use the Gift to move it. Marci, alarmed, leaned in with a kerchief to dab the rest. "Mom, why are you crying?" she begged. "This is a happy time, isn't it!"
Amanda took the deepest breath that she could and blinked a couple of times. "Happy tears, mi vida. I promise."
"Happy for me too," agreed Marci. Many among the Afortunado nodded and voiced their agreement.
"As for your part in this," Jocasta said, turning to look in Zarina's direction. Something in her eyes had changed. "You are not mere tools, at least to my knowledge." She shook her head. "This was something that I had in mind for quite some time, though my ideas were undirected: only an outpouring of anger."
The blonde set hands to wheels again, as if anxious to pace, to move, to not be confined in a small, static space. "Marceline and I talked yesterday evening. And then I spoke with Amanda in the morning."
Amanda, having gathered herself, nodded. "We told her about what we had been hoping to do, waiting for the right opportunity to do."
"We talked her down from it," said Marceline.
"And I'm glad you did," Jocasta admitted. She gestured toward her fellow students. "And you five too." She took a deep breath and glanced out the window for a moment. "Sometimes it isn't easy to hold back when you... are what I am, when you have the Gift like I do. It isn't easy to find people who will say 'no' to you." She smiled wanly. "Thanks for being those people, sometimes."
"In short, it was a coincidence," Amanda concluded, “unless the school knew something, but I don't see how they could have.”
For what it was worth, a strange feeling passed through Jocasta's stomach. She thought of the Paradigm. Perhaps someone like him might know. Perhaps he had... She shook her head, somewhat visibly. Now was not the time to bring that up. It would only serve as a distraction. "I actually have theories on that, Zamira, but we will talk later." She caught herself. "Wait, no, Zarina. Ugh, I'm sorry. I've gotten into the habit now. I'm a bitch. Really."
"I can confirm that," Amanda agreed. "It's her little passive-aggressive thing she's been doing since she was a kid. I was 'Manta' for a whole month at one time." She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
"How about the Warden?" prodded Felix, and it took people a moment to pick him out from Kaspar while he was seated on the corner of the bed.
"He will not go down easily," Amanda declared. "Not at all, but Tio Manuel-" She paused. "That is Head Ranger Escarra to you," she told the students from Ersand'Enise. "-Is speaking with him right now. Hopefully, he will see sense. If not, we Afortunado will hold him down with the Gift and Jocasta, Marci, and the head ranger will drug him in the morning." She looked about the room. "I want this to be bloodless. Our friends from far away are right." She used her magic to lift her arms and spread her curled fingers apart. She clapped her hands twice in mimicry of the very man whose fate they had just discussed. "Now, we have our roles and our lines. Any last questions?"
Ayla shakes her head, as there are no further questions from herself. It appears the Afortunado already had a plan in place with how to deal with the Warden during the meantime. "There are only fine details left. We can review and rewrite the petition if required to give it the best opportunity before King Sancho. Regime change under Escarra sounds like a good interim plan whilst we deal with the other threat. We should start training in the morning, get everyone prepared, even those outside of the Afortunado. If we all work together, we can deal with Shai-Aberração. Not sure if reinforcements from the Academy would be possible, too far away."
Before the meeting convened and everyone started to clear out, Yalen addressed his fellow students. "I know we will all be busy preparing ourselves, but I would be honoured if you could spare a moment before taking to your beds tonight. Please, let us meet in the common room in an hour."
The meeting was reaching its end. Emotions flared, hearts poured out and anxieties were quelled in this brief but important exchange. Zarina pushed herself off her corner, arms stretched up to prompt a little yawn, ”Sounds like we got a plan. If you need anything, Amanda,” she then lets her arms fall limp along her sides and eventually lets her hands rest on her hips, ”this little one knows where to find me. And I’m quite the light sleeper.” she briefly directed her attention to Marceline, and then flashed a smile at her.
Then, she looked over at Jocasta, eyebrow raised and her posture unchanged, ”Oh so you were fucking with me the whole time?” she nods with her lips sucked in, ”Impressive. I respect the commitment. You didn’t even slip up once. Almost thought you were a tad dim.”
Jocasta merely winked at Zarina's response. "Like I said." She pointed at her chest. "Huge bitch." She mirrored her... friend's? grin and waited for the others to file out.
Zarina then smiles a toothy grin and winks before turning to Yalen, ”Only if you bribe me with food, mini-Padre.” he earned a tap on the shoulder, at least, as she began to evacuate the room with the others. Not before giving a passing glance to Abdel, however.
"Little one!?" protested Marci, "I'm like... maybe two years younger than you!" She scooted forward and stood up. "If I get outta this stinkhole - no offence, mom - we're gonna be classmates, you know." She narrowed her eyes playfully.
Zarina opened her arms in a taunting manner as she turned back, still taking some steps back, “And you're like two feet shorter.” she stuck her tongue out.
"Schweinhund!" the second-youngest (for Laelle was younger) of the group retorted. "I'm not done growing and my Papa was tall! Frederick Hohenfelter: look him up! He was six-foot-two, mom said. She even measured!"
Marci sighed. It had just occurred to her that she would not be walking for more than another couple of years anyhow. Still, by Oraff, she'd take what she could, while she could.
The teens were all doing what they did and what they deserved to do at their age. That conflict and danger had found them, Amanda was sorry for, but not too sorry. The right - small - dose of those things was the spice of life. Her best moments had come amid peril. Marceline had been conceived in a tent, on a cold night, in the face of an impending enemy attack that had threatened both Amanda and her dear Frederick. "None taken," she replied to Marci. "This place is objectively awful." She smiled ruefully. Then, the two youths were taunting each other, her daughter so desperate to be tall. She mentioned Frederick, then, and heat rose in Amanda's cheeks. "I did not measure your father," she protested.
"You said you liked that he was tall, mom," Marci shot back, the little shit that she was. "You took out a measuring tape and measured him while he was sleeping."
"Filthy lies!" Amanda protested, her mind wanting to get up and follow the others, to ruffle Marci's hair and tease her back about something, but they were walking now - the younger girl poorly, but at least walking, and she could only follow with the Gift. She let out a sigh and relented. "You win, little pumpkin. That'll teach me to trust you with my deepest, darkest secrets."
Abdel watched the girls tease and taunt each other. He had always liked Marceline, though she was a year older and had paid him little attention aside from the expected friendlinesses. Zarina was something else entirely, though. He nodded at her significant look and waited just outside the doorway.
Idle and antsy while she waited, Jocasta popped a wheelie and leaned back against the desk again, resting her elbows on it. It was less than comfortable as the drawer's little handle jabbed into her back. After a moment, she eased back onto all four wheels and turned on the spot, pulling it out.
She'd always found the old desk an interesting piece of furniture, even as a girl. It was so ancient and... the drawer had always seemed weirdly small. Come to think of it... Jocasta furrowed her brow and, gently, being sure not to break it, pulled the entire thing out from the desk. "Hey!" shouted Amanda. "You, blondie barbarian!"
Jocasta turned guiltily, the dislocated drawer still on her lap like a hand in a cookie jar. "Who? Lil' old me?"
"Why are you destroying my furniture?"
"Oh, sorry," the younger woman replied. "I um... just had a notion."
"Well, have better notions, then."
"Hasn't this drawer always seemed kind of... small to you?"
Amanda tilted her head to one side. "I don't measure my drawers."
"Oh, but you measure your men."
Amanda flushed - "Bruja!" - and Jocasta grinned. "Oh, but he was beautiful, though."
The blonde blinked, shaking the drawer and reaching out with great focus in the Gift. She could feel it: the dust shaking around beneath what appeared to be the bottom, in addition to something larger. "Hah!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "It's a false bottom, and there's something in it! I told you!"
"Well, don't just tease me now," said Amanda, gathering the Gift and leaning forward. "Break my priceless antique and tell me what's in it."
Feeling along where wood met wood, Jocasta seized upon the glue and tiny nails that held the pieces together. As she had in the service of the Volti many times over, she broke in with minimal fuss. A letter tumbled out onto her lap, old and yellowed and with a grand wax seal. She read aloud. "Something... Arslan," the Dorvalish woman exclaimed, eyes darting to the retreating figure of Ayla.
Ayla was still waiting to exit the room having already said goodnight to Jocasta and an offer to speak to her later, saying farewells to the others. With being one of the smallest, she is used to waiting for her turn to leave. She only had passing awareness of the various conversations between each of the participants, though the loud giggling about measuring the height of Marci's father was hard to miss. "Hohenfelter... there might be a student by this name at the academy by this name...", she muses the name, but unable to gather any further details, perhaps this is something she could look up on her return.
After a few moments and Jo seeming to destroy Amanda's furniture within her room, she is brought to consciousness as she listens to her name being called out, looking up and around towards the others as they seem to be fixated in her direction. "You now have my attention, amiga", tilting her head towards Jo to offer a smile, but perplexed as she notices the intense gaze, recognising that instead of her first name, it was her family name that was being address. "My family. My name Ayla Arslan, Filha of Duque Duarte Arslan, Protector of the Arapora River, Guardian of Varrahasta."
"Wait!" says Marci, "what did you just mumble? Something about a student?" She darted forward, relatively speaking. "Do you know someone from my family?"
Ayla shakes her head towards the girl, "It is not the first time encountering such a name, there is a familiar sounding name bore by another student at the academy." She offers an apologetic smile, "It is was something that could be explored further when opportunity arose. Did not mean to encourage false hope but willing to investigate this for you."
Marceline blinks. She has memories of brothers. They are fuzzy and indistinct, as are all memories that the vulture has tampered with. She decides to let things go... mostly. "When you do that 'looking into', how about we do it together, then?" she recommends. Then, Jocasta is playing with her mother's furniture and a whole big exchange ensues. Marci goes silent and listens.
She nods with a smile, "Happy to ask Hugo if the academy are enrolling more students as well."
Jocasta takes a couple of pushes forward and her and Ayla come together, Amanda craning her neck in the background and making pouty noises, Marci stealing glances over, and Abdel lingering in the doorway. "Looks old, amiga so might not exactly be about your kind of Arslan." She hands it to Ayla and looks on expectantly.
"You know," grunts Amanda, finally giving in to curiosity and lifting herself from the corner of her bed with the Gift, "they say the Red tower is the oldest building here: the original, and this was a fort." She settles into her chair and folds her hands across her lap.
"There are over 800 years of Arslans stretching back to the Hierbamonte in the Northeastern Steppes of Parrence. It is said our progenitor rode a Lion into battle under King Arcel!", she gives a smile, that part may be poetic, but always brought fond memories at bed time where they discussed his heroic deeds. She looks down towards the aged note as she starts to look through the letters, the parchment was certainly old, and how it managed to survive in this condition probably has to do with the dry air and lack of humidity in these parts. The script was in old Tourrare, a language which she was not versed in personally, but she was able to understand in the context of archaic Torragonese and Parrench roots. She carefully examines the seal upon it, a reversed Arslan Lion, carefully breaking it so she could review the seal in greater detail later, as she opens the envelope, unfolding the pages inside to read their contents.
The note is strange and archaic in its language and difficult to read, but Ayla is more or less able to make sense of it:
“To our allies, the Unmoved,
This land is promised in perpetuity as thanks for the assistance of your colony in our endeavour at Avasor.
She pauses for a second. 'Avasor' - "Red Water'' - was the old name of Varrhasta, from before the glorious conquest. She continues.
Rest assured that the House of Arslan has the ear of the King and his personal word on this matter. We are not people to renege on our promises, nor are our allies, the Frannemas.
She pauses again. The Houses of Frannemas and Arslan have hated each other since time immemorial - since before even the conquest, she has heard. While the former controls the greatest land holdings of any noble house beside the King's, the latter are masters of the great port of Varrahasta, and much of its abundant wealth.
All land from fifty leagues north of the end of the navigable Mererrapora Pequeño at Villaseca for a square area of fifty leagues in each direction is to be granted to your people. We will discuss the matter further upon my visit.
Alizée Arslan”
Ayla folds the letter away and places it back in the envelope with a sigh. "This is a cáliz envenenado - poisoned chalice. It may be used as a bargaining chip by offering to renounce the claim to further your petition to the King." She looks around to see that she has only gained more interest in the letter, then reluctantly speaks further, "It is a promise for a land grant in appreciation for the efforts the original owners of this Refuge in their support during the formation of Torragon. Land that has since been under the ownership of House Frannemas and developed over the past 300 years. It is a promise that would not be enforceable today." She secures the letter delicately, "Keep it safe. We will speak more when we review the petition together. It could help secure your original goal".
How exciting it had been, to have a room full of people: to be planning something great, to be gathered in a common cause, laughing and joking in the face of uncertainty and danger. It was a throwback to her life of a decade ago, and one she thought that she'd never experience again. The door had closed, though, they had left through it, and Amanda was once again alone, as she so often was. She knew that she had little enough to complain about. Those in the rooms around her had not known excitement like that since moving to the red tower. Many had not been visited so much as once following their first year here. You are blessed that your final years should be this meaningful. She sat there, in her wheeled-chair, taking a handful of deep breaths. She wanted more, though. The sheer emotional load of the past two days had broken the back of her cloistered serenity: had made her laugh and cry, love and dream and want again. The idea that there might yet be a bold future out there, where people like her could find a place in the world... she found herself terribly, bitterly jealous of those who would get to live it if, indeed, their plans came to fruition.
I will be remembered, though, she told herself by way of consolation. This thing that is me, that will be gone soon: people will know that she existed, that she did good. Those people would not laugh with her, though. They would not sit arm in arm at a beer hall in Mandelein, singing drunkenly without a care for those few precious hours. They would not hold her close, run their hands up and down her body, and bring her ecstasy. They would not share secret smiles and play chess games under a colonnade by moon and candlelight. She had let go of it all, but now it was back. What a life you have lived! she insisted to the rebellious part of her mind that raged anew against the light and its dying. What things you have seen and done, for one so afflicted - for anyone! She thought nothing for a moment. But how much more could you have done in a different life? How much will Marceline get to do? And it was that last thought that placated her, finally. Perhaps, someday, Marci would think it not daft to measure a man in his sleep, to try to jump on the back of a rhinodon and ride it, or to spend three happy days and nights winding her way through streets filled with revelers. Many of the things that were her would live on through her daughter, and her daughter would have a chance at a better life because of her actions. It was something. Amanda seized on it and tried to be done with it.
Drawing upon the Gift, she rolled up to the window and looked out across the Refuge for a long few moments: the place where she had spent her entire life, save those blessed months out on missions, save her time with Frederick. Part of her longed to see him again, before she was finished, to be loved; part of her dreaded it. She couldn't let him see her like this: a withered husk of a person that struggled even to hold her head up straight at times. Best to let him remember her as she had been, and the reverse was true as well. He'd alluded more than once to the desperate misery of his arranged marriage, to the crushing sense of duty that buried everything else he had wanted to be. Now, some fifteen years had passed, and time rarely made things better. Assuming he was still alive, he'd likely be some unremarkable middle-aged nobleman: deep into his cups every night, pulling himself together to manage his accounts and drill with his soldiers, sleeping in a bed separate from his wife, and living vicariously through his sons... what had he said their names were? Jurgen and Manfred? She had never met the boys.
Marceline - her name out there had been Nina, according to Frederick - had been loved, at least. Amanda had gathered that much from the girl's splintered memories. Now, I send you back out into the world, my precious one, my legacy. For all of the hope that she held, it killed her inside, as surely as the disease that ravaged her body, that Marceline would have perhaps twelve more good years, while the friends that she had made would live fifty, sixty. They would spend their youths at the school together and then go their separate ways, keeping in touch when they could. Amanda did not know this for a fact, but Frederick had told her how it was the way of the world and he'd had no reason to lie. But, as her friends started families and endeavours, dear Marci would be dying the entire time. Her hands would start to go and the people who she cared about would gradually distance themselves from her, not out of cruelty but practicality. Like her mother, she would not be able to do much. She would be a lead weight. You don't emotionally invest in people who don't have a future. If this works, I will have freed you. That was the best that she could do, and it was significant. It will fall to someone else - perhaps your own initiative - to cure you.
Come Clean
Amanda found herself alone with her thoughts again until footsteps pulled her from her melancholy, headed down the hallway at a brisk pace. They were ones that she recognized well, and she reached out with the Gift. "Tio Manuel," she said, turning as the door opened. He closed it behind him. His eyes were dark and worried - or as worried as they ever got, with him. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but he preempted her. "The warden is dead," he said calmly. "I killed him."
Amanda's mind lit on fire, then. She struggled for words. Her uncle - who was really her father - placed himself at the corner of her desk, face tight, eyes flicking out her small window. "W-why?" she managed.
"He would not listen." Papa crossed his arms. "He wanted to throw those five and Consuela at the Wyrm and have them die so the school would send a Zeno." He shook his head. "He wouldn't let the Tethered learn so they could fight for themselves. He wouldn't call the duke. He wouldn't call the king. Nothing," he grated. "I tried it all."
Papa was usually short on words. When he talked this much, it meant that he was lying. "There's more," she replied, voice firm and patient. "What else?"
His eyes met hers unflinchingly. "He threatened you."
"Papa, we talked about it. I told you-"
"It is already bad enough that I cannot openly call you what you are, but one does not threaten my daughter to my face without consequence."
"Papa, please!" she begged, pulling upon the Gift to roll up to him. "It isn't worth it. I have maybe a year or-"
"He threatened Marci, mi vida." There was real anger on his face, now. His lip quivered. "He threatened both my girls, on top of risking how many other lives here?"
Amanda breathed, in and out. "So he's dead. Does anyone else know?"
"Only me and you."
She glanced down at her lap and then over her shoulder, at the window. "The others will not be happy. This endangers our whole plan."
His eyes lit up. "So, you're going through with it!"
The Tethered felt a flash of annoyance. "We have no choice now, but this will complicate things. It will complicate them greatly. The students know it too."
"I can keep it hidden until lunchtime tomorrow."
"It was one more night, Papa!" she hissed. "Ejerran Mio! I know he's awful, but..." She shook her head and it was hard - hard when she got wound up like this. The muscles were weak and the nerves unresponsive.
"I should have controlled myself. I am sorry, mija. You get all of your smarts from your mother, I fear, but I will do whatever I can to help."
"Tomorrow by lunch, we have?"
"He usually does his rounds then."
The wheels in her head were turning, running through a hundred scenarios. She nodded. "I need to speak with the others. I will give them one night of serenity, but we convene at breakfast." She took a calming breath. "I will come up with something by then."
"By breakfast?"
"Yes, in the small room."
"Amanda..." He trailed off for a moment. "You haven't been there for three years."
Two years, nine months, and twenty-two days. The anxiety burned at the edges of her thoughts, threatening to overwhelm them. "I know," she replied, "but I must be there. You need to take me. We will win the day and then I will come clean on your behalf."
The grizzled ranger paused, feeling nothing if not the slight sting of shame. "That is something I will do myself."
Ghosts
They gathered then, an hour hence, in the common room of the guest dormitories where they were staying. It was utterly still and silent, much of the furniture covered in sheets that waited like dust-covered ghosts until Jocasta glided through the double doors, the air sparkling around her with dust disturbed from its slumber. She spun on the spot and sheets flipped and flew, folding themselves in midair and tucking away into closets and cabinets. A dozen candles lit themselves within their lanterns and a faint and ever-growing light took hold where there had been only gloom a minute earlier. The other students of Ersand'Enise filtered into the room, including the one who had called this get-together: Yalen Castel.
It was not him who drew the curtains on their proceedings, however, but one of the others: perhaps Ayla, Jocasta, or some combination. Whatever was said or done in that room remained unseen and unheard by outside senses until the students trickled back out. Only Jocasta and Yalen remained, for some time after their peers had left. Then, they too were on their way.
The Refuge in the middle of the High Desert of Inner Torragon slumbered, then: restlessly, fitfully. Froabasses circled in the sky and chattered and howled on the clifftops in the near distance. Lanterns twinkled into the endless darkness, and the leaves of the great Naranja tree by the pool stirred in the embrace of a chill wind. With it came a veil of clouds that obscured the three moons above: first Viejo, then Azogue, and finally Granrojo. Finally, beneath the cooling sands a creature, vast and ancient, hurtled through a canyon known as the Devil's Throat, its mind consumed by an inescapable madness, its actions senseless even by its own reckoning. Its anguished, furious roars split the stillness of the night, promising death to whatever stood before the beast when it was able to break free of its confines.
The Rain Comes
Morning came to the Refuge, cool and cloudy by its standards, and the children who called it home were soon gathered in anticipation in the courtyard, chatting excitedly and gesturing up towards the sky. Rainy days were rare. The last one had been just over a year ago. Some of the youngest, in fact, had yet to experience one and had no concept of rain in their memories beyond what they had been told and had read about in books.
It was against this backdrop that the revolution began. A dozen individuals gathered for breakfast around a large table in the Administrators' Tower. The floor was white marble and the furniture opulent in slightly worn, outdated sort of way. Manuel Escarra sat at the head in the high-backed chair that was usually the warden's. Beside him was Amanda, and she had introduced him as her uncle. "At this moment," she was saying, "across the Refuge, our people are in place and ready to neutralize those likely to resist us." Her eyes swept the room. "We do not wish for any bloodshed, but we will not be cowed either. This place will either change to meet the oncoming threat or perish in the face of it. I heartily wish for the former."
"The warden has already been taken care of," continued Escarra. "He will not be a problem, but we will need two people to assist with the Vice-Wardens. They are not weak. We must hold them down and sedate them, unless any of you are skilled in Chemical magic." He paused, brow heavy and furrowed. "They will be held in the basement of the Red Tower, under guard, fed and given water in shifts."
"We will also need two more to manage the younglings in the courtyard," added Amanda. "The rain is a blessing. It will keep them out of the buildings while we work. Gods willing, they will not even know what has happened until we call an assembly in the plaza."
"At 5:00 Shune, the gates will open for the morning scout patrol." Escarra's eyes went to the clock for a moment, before returning to the eleven young people before him. They had about fifteen minutes. "The bell will ring once the two rangers have left, and that will be the signal."
"When it is finished, I will need to see everyone back here," added Amanda. "There is another matter of import we all must discuss. Now... any questions?" she finished.
1) Amanda, Jocasta, and Marceline reveal all and the group pledge their support. In particular:
Amanda being Marci's mother.
Jocasta's tragic past.
The true nature of the refuge and the existence of the Afortunado.
Their plan to overthrow the existing power structure bloodlessly.
Their plan to fight the wyrm and live happily ever after.
2) Amanda is left on her own and more of her past is revealed, as well as her hopes for the future and her daughter, Marceline.
3) Escarra comes to visit and it is revealed that he is not her uncle but actually her father. He confesses to having killed Warden Ortega out of anger and a desire to protect both her and Marceline. Amanda is unhappy about it, but begins thinking up a plan as to how they might approach the complication.
4) Meanwhile, the six students meet in the dormitory common room and have a discussion, the contents of which remain unknown to outsiders. Yalen and Jocasta linger for some time afterwards. Outside, potential rain is in the air.
5) In the morning, everyone is gathered for breakfast in the Administrators' Tower dining room and Escarra is sitting in Ortega's seat. He and Amanda announce the start of the Revolution and ask for volunteers to help restrain the Vice-Wardens and keep the young children safe.
1) Feel free to play out that final group meeting of the six students.
2) What happens during the night and that foreboding, moody sleep?
3) Questions for Amanda and Escarra? Volunteering for one of the roles?
4) Let's collab, DM, or coordinate the coup about to take place!
She dances. Moonlight sparkles against the slow, muddy waters of the Lorentz, turning them into something better for a flicker of time. Carmillia takes Leon’s proffered hard and the two of them sway in a brief, slow waltz to music that exists mostly in their heads. Pressed close against each other in the confined space of the rear verandah, the two are clearly in conversation, though anyone listening from without would be hard pressed to pick out the precise words exchanged.
Zarra, meanwhile, has led Dorothea into the hold, both out of a concern for her safety and his own fidgety need to not be idle. Then, they uncover it: the lyre or… rather, a lyre. The craftsmanship is breathtaking: smooth, lacquered wood in a sweeping avian design and tasteful gold leaf accents. The Perrenchman picks the instrument up and is able to play a handful of notes on it. They reverberate through the cluttered space with the most beautiful sound, but there doesn’t appear to be any magical effect. He and Dory glance at each other, a similar thought perhaps coming to both simultaneously: What does a holy lyre actually look like? What does it actually do?
However, while some are dancing, swept up in an idyllic Malabash summer of revelry, and others’ eyes sparkle with the thrill of discovery, the majority of the ship’s passengers are fighting for their very lives. The anger that the Traveler’s agents stoked was co-opted by the six students, or at least some among them, and then used effectively but selfishly to buy them time to complete one part of their mission. What exists now is nothing short of a riot. People are fighting and many don’t know why. Some simply attack those who attacked them. Others expected a Leon Solaire appearance and instead found a group of angry political agitators trying to shove them out of the way. Alcohol and anger are a potent mix. There are those who are genuinely revolutionary, and others who are simply taking the opportunity to pilfer. Whatever their motivations, perhaps the saddest part is that no nobles - or almost no nobles - have been harmed in the making of this revolt. Aside from the captain, an officer or two, and the ship’s engine room arcanists, the only nobility on board are some of the students. Common people are beating and killing common people so that six youths from a school for elite magic users can sneak away with an item of cargo from the ship.
The violence spills across all decks of the technological marvel that is the Lorentine Queen. An officer, trying in vain to calm down a group of six rioters, fires his pistol into the crowd and gets rushed and torn to shreds. A second, seeking some sort of… his motivations are unclear, unleashes his kinetic magic into the mob. Human bodies are ragdolled into tables, walls, and support beams. A table leg is launched into the wall with such force that it punctures the wooden hall and cold, muddy water starts to pour in. An entire plank peels loose with a crackling groan and the water pours in faster! The smell of smoke fills the air ever thicker as oil lamps crash to the carpet and the wooden deck. Panic, increasing shouts and screams as people grow frightened with those not rioting attempting to flee the destruction wrought by others. A holy man hurrying along as he makes the sign of the pentad, "Oraff keep us, enlighten us Shune, Dami guide us so we don't greet you soon!". Whilst some of the fires are put out by the nascent flooding, others travel upwards, licking at wood and wallpaper and growing, billowing out with waves of heat. At this rate, the ship is going to sink.
It is finally enough to interrupt Carmillia and Leon, who had been dancing as the world burnt around them. The severity of the situation can no longer be missed or misinterpreted by Zarra, Dory, or any of the others except by willful ignorance. Indeed, Eun-Ji, frustrated with the near-complete lack of attention to teamwork and mission objectives, has used her magic to send water clones out and retrieve the team’s various members. Manfred proves momentarily preoccupied. As a couple of rioters swing at him, he is forced to defend himself, using the butt of his rifle and his skills as a Kastang practitioner. Zarra, when he emerges, will be a likely target as well with his staff uniform. In any event, they all find Eun-Ji - or rather magic that looks like her - appearing in front of them, urging them to collective action of a sort.
It was not at all an easy feat for Eun-Ji to create multiple water clones and then control their movements with precision. Still, she had to try. Liquid manipulation was her specialty after all and with the ship taking in water, there was no better time to use it. She used some of the water that leaked into the boat to sculpt them, two human-shaped bodies of water around the same size as herself. Applying the final touch in the form of illusion, she sent them; one to the cargo hold and one in search of Leon and Carmillia. Meanwhile, the real Eun-Ji attempted to hold back the flow of water that had poured into where she, Manfred, and the six commoners were located. It took everything she had to perform all these simultaneously, and she most definitely cannot keep it up indefinitely.
The clone that went to the cargo hold arrived first, stopping from ‘her’ run in front of Zarra and Dory. ”We need you both” the clone seemingly said to them as the image of Eun-Ji moved its mouth. Her words and tone were polite as ever despite the frustration she hid in herself. ”It was a smart decision to go here to seek safety, but we need you both. Everything is going very out of control and this ship might really end up sinking, taking countless lives with it. We need everyone if we are to deal with this crisis. As soon as Ms. Hohnstein is well enough to act, please join me and Manfred outside. It is time to coordinate and actually start working together.” Eun-Ji’s image over the humanoid body of water disappeared then, followed by the water itself losing cohesion and splashing down into the ground.
Finding Leon and Carmillia took slightly more time, although it wasn’t particularly difficult to surmise where Leon would go after his boombastic performance. The clone found the two just as they finished their dance in the covered verandah. ”Mr. Solaire, Ms. Carbonneau, you are both needed. It is quite likely now that this ship is going to sink if we do not act. There are holes on the ship that need to be patched up, fires have broken out and are threatening to spread wildly. But most importantly, this chaos needs to be controlled. Otherwise, countless lives will likely be lost. Please, do whatever it is that you think can help. All of us need to work together if we are to manage this situation.” With her message spoken, this clone too dispersed, returning back to only water that flowed back to the river. All the while, just as the clone of Eun-Ji had spoken, the chaos continued to spread.
It is amidst this chaos that a lyre flies through the air. It is a pretty instrument, though some simply seek to destroy it. One among them, however, seems to recognize illusion for what it is. A tall man with a beard and a bandanna, he plucks it gracefully from the air. This was not the revolution that he came here for. This has been corrupted and co-opted by bad faith actors, and he scowls. Nonetheless, he feels some small sense of solace that he has succeeded in procuring the Lyre of Ipte-Zept for those who wish to change this world for the better.
“Help! Eshiran spare us!” a woman shouts, and he turns. She is sheltering against the gunwale with two small children, shielding them with her body as a pair of enraged labourers brawl with a member of staff. What the hell are children doing in a floating casino? One of the labourers - a huge man - is pushed off balance and starts to stumble into the trio. The Traveler’s agent acts, pushing him to the side with a rudimentary kinetic shove. It isn’t a school that he’s good with. He is and always has been an arcanist, like his fellow agent of change: Seer. He nods at the woman and she nods back, but the situation is critical. He staggers away, looking for a secluded place where he can speak the signal words and he and his partner can be extracted. Yet, his conscience burns. Some violence is necessary. Some death is inevitable, and he has never shirked from that, but hundreds of common people, spurred to violence, their motives used and twisted, are going to die here if he and Seer do nothing. He begins drawing from the fires, quenching them, and expelling the energy as he can to prevent people from harming each other. There needs to be a more concrete solution, though: a more permanent one. Perhaps his arcane abilities can be put to better use.
Manfred has dealt with his immediate threats and he, too, has started to think of uttering the words of extraction that he and Eun-Ji were entrusted with. Yet… can he really just leave hundreds to perish? Slipping out of the rear gambling area, ravaged as it is, he asks her for an update on where the others are and if she’s found them. His eyes scan the river and the shore. If they could just get the ship moving again, they could beach or maybe even dock it. Manfred lacks the skill to run the engines, though, and not only are they damaged, but two of the arcanists are down for the count, one as a result of his action.
It is then that he comes face to face with a tall, bearded man with a frighteningly intense gaze. A bandanna is tied around his head. There is a second, shorter man in his shadow and his bandanna covers his eyes: a powergazer. Manfred prepares to fight but, first, he opens his mouth to speak, another - albeit crazy - idea hitting him.
1) The Lorentine Queen is still salvageable, but people will need to act immediately, this cycle, in a coordinated fashion, to prevent the sinking.
2) There are three separate holes in the ship at this point, of varying degrees of severity. These need to be managed to prevent out-of-control flooding.
3) There are many small fires that need to be put out. In particular, wallpaper burns very well and the fire cannot be allowed to consume it en masse.
4) Ultimately, this ship needs to be brought to shore. Two of the ship’s arcanists remain, somewhere out there, as well as two arcane-specced Traveler’s agents, as well as Dory and Leon, who have some abilities with Arcane. Leon, however, is nearly out of juice.
5) There are a few rowboats, but ships in this place and time do not come equipped with a full complement of liferafts.
6) If the Lorentine Queen can be moved, there is an opportunity to beach it or even dock it. However, the violence on the ship may spill out onto shore, meeting up with the violence there and becoming a problem for House Rednitz, masters of this area.
7) Any sort of illusion or internal chemical magic to have a calming effect would be of great value in this situation: both on the rioters, those not rioting but terrified, and on the three factions (arcanists/crew, students, and Traveler’s agents) who have the power to prevent disaster.
Oh, hello there, mortals. It is I: Ahn-Dami. Yes, I'm speaking with you directly. Listen: I have heard your mewling little cries and, in my infinite wisdom and mercy, have decided to answer them. You've packed yourselves onto a pair of rickety constructs made of dead tree and are currently floating on the water towards either your possible doom or that of those who have subjectively been labeled as your enemies. There are moments when I heartily regret allowing sentients their free will.
It has been a long and trying journey. Members of your group have saved and taken life. Some have entered the embrace of my sister, Ahn-Eshiran. You've encountered a cast of colourful characters along the way to make allies or enemies of and now, in this moment, as rousing speeches and brilliant plans come together, you stand poised at the precipice of... well, being over it, really, don't you? There's only so much combat, intrigue, and danger that the human or yasoi mind can take. It is love, laughter, and camaraderie that fills your cup as well. It is discovery, knowledge, and exploration! One needs Ipte and Shune to thrive more so than Eshiran.
And so, we shall seize the hands of time, dear humans and yasoi, and move them quickly in the direction that you know best, for such is the power of a goddess of the Pentad. As an aside, I shall expect your finest offerings at some later juncture.
The Maria Nera, black-sailed beauty that she was, was still a relatively mundane ship. That she had a complement of mages was a given, and these were reasonably skilled and innovative. They made the cardinal mistake of thinking that their adversaries would rely on magic to counter them and, unless they could count a tethered among their number, the battle would be fought at the edge of magic range or perhaps even closer. Instead, the students of Ersand'Enise relied on gunnery. Ismette held the Golden Sun perfectly still on the pitching waves, Trypano lined her up, and Ingrid and Desmond fired the gigantic 'fuck you' gun they had made with 'F E A R L E S S I N N O V A T I O N'. It missed.
As he had a penchant for, Benedetto decided to come to the rescue at that very moment, flying in like some sort of death god, right up to the Nera, and holding it steady. Captain Falzon grumbled something about seamanship and recoil and stupid weapons, but they fired the gun again, it struck home, and well... pirate ships just can't repel firepower of that magnitude. At least the mages on board could save everyone else from drowning. They surrendered to the snaggle-toothed old seadog who was Captain of the St. Elmo's Fyre, along with his chosen Queen, their reign of terror at an end.
The issue was that Xavier Falzon had been right about one thing: the Golden Sun sailed like a pig with the weight of a weapon like that mounted where it would have a decent field of fire, and the sheer recoil broke her back after a couple of rounds. Trypano worked hard to patch her up, but she'd taken in so much water by then that capsizing was inevitable. Desmond was able to save the flag, at least. Perhaps, in the future, some other - greater - ship will fly it.
It was the Flamant Royale that picked them up and rendezvoused with the Fyre and both of these ships returned to the hidden cove that the Nera had been operating out of. It was...eerily quiet as they hove to and docked. Stepping onto the sand, the group found themselves on high alert, all except for Benedetto. "Heh, looks like the idiots all fled," he joked. "Guess we're just that scary."
They spread out, after that: the crew of the Royale in one direction and a party from the Fyre - including Amelea - in the other. "I... don't like this," warned Penny, and Ismette nodded. Everything had been left exactly as the former had encountered it a few hours earlier, save some matters related to the ship casting off and the hasty packing of some ammunition and navigational maps, yet, she also notcied some odd... burn marks on some of the walls and... irregular globs of glass in the sand.
Eventually, both parties converged on the caves where much of the treasure had been stored and 'Amelea's' chamber was located. She wanted to go and investigate it. There was treasure to be distributed, and she desired to look for something incriminating on her uncle. On the other hand, there were the deeper reaches of the cave to explore. How much deeper they went seemed to be a matter of some dispute. Penny maintained that she'd reached the end of what was navigable earlier and there'd been nothing of note. Ismette reached out with her keen yasoi senses and she noticed something in the sand soil beneath them: it looked almost like something had been dragged or... perhaps undulated over here, but the tracks disappeared against the back of the stone cavern. She quietly shared that information with her trusted peers. As everyone talked, however, Benedetto, serious for once, tapped idly on the wall, until he heard something that sounded... hollow beyond it. Amelea beckoned them one way. Benedetto, with a complete lack of reverence, the other. Which would the group choose?
“The ship is sinking? Did my reckless actions really get this bad? Maybe that man was right and I don’t deserve my people’s faith” Dorothea’s expression would worsen even further. “But if they need me, I can’t sit here doing nothing…” The woman was in a state of deep thought as everything in her close vicinity burned and flooded.
An image of herself with a wicked grin appeared in her mind. “As if you could ever live up to your family’s legacy. It’s a futile struggle, how can you even think that under the Rednitz you could even regain a small bit of the family’s former prestige?” “Shut it, Why would I think that?” A sigh came from the image “Accept it, you are only the heir of the Hohnsteins because your brother is more worthless than you and the only other candidate… well let’s just say you took care of that yourself.” “That was a mistake! I never thought he’d try to break the rules in a duel.” “Yet you crippled him for life for a small cheat, was that really worth it?” the true Dory's expression became more and more melancholic “I… I have nothing to defend that, that is why I want to lead this family to some extent to greatness.” The image began to get impatient with the self to cope with her circumstances. “Believe it or not but this joke of a noble family you call great will be nothing but a speck of dust once you fail once more and get married off to, what was his name again? Oh right, Alfred. You know, becoming his wife might not be the worst. It beats trying to save a dead family.” Dorothea remembered one thing that caused her to smirk. “If you truly think that, you aren’t worth my time.”
Opening her eyes once again the Feskan stood up. “If they truly need me, I should at least try. Giving up is not a thing I was taught after all.” standing up, not with the best mood but at least she stands again. The Feskan rushed towards the door of the cargo hold before turning around and looking at Zarra. “Thank you, for taking care of me.” Now turning back towards the door and running out. If she could help in any way she will.
Collaboration between @Jumbus and @Animus Place(s): Covered Verandah and Entertainment Lounge, Lorentine Queen Interactions: Firebrand & Various @Medili@Force And Fury
As Carmilla took Leon’s hand and, therefore, his offer to dance, Leon gently pulled her toward him. Then placed her right arm to come around his chest with the hand landing on his back while Leon rested his left hand on her shoulder. Their other hands joined out toward the side and they were beginning to dance. The place Leon decided to position Carmillia’s hand would not go unnoticed. In Perrence and surrounding cultures, it was expected for the male to symbolically support his partner’s back during such a dance. Leon had intentionally reversed the gender roles of it.
While the decision to dance nor the reversal of gender roles was out of place, especially during such an event as this, it was nothing that couldn’t be explained away as more of Leon’s eccentric behaviour. But only to Carmillia would the real message be revealed as she felt something against his back. She had seen nothing out of the ordinary earlier. But sure enough, the wooden frame of an instrument could be felt there. It was the lyre. He was using illusion magic to hide it on himself.
Meanwhile, Leon seemed not to acknowledge this discovery at all. Without a word, he was telling Carmillia that he possessed the lyre while keeping suspicion from onlookers.
Carmillia matched him beat for beat, the revelation of the Lyre's location seemingly not bothering her. Any curious onlookers that had noticed the pair dancing on the verandah and come to observe would have found nothing amiss, other than the fact the two of them were twirling about admist a riot. But such an act wasn't too surprising when one was talking about the likes of Leon and a person he'd chosen to dance with.
In truth, Carmillia's inner thoughts were in turmoil.
I could snatch it right from him right now, she thought. Even though all signs of Leon's laborious breathing had vanished when they begun dancing, either out of false bravado to put up a front for her or the various beaten, bruised and drunk observers that were streaming in, the occasional tremble told her enough.
And do what with it? She admonished herself. Her innate greed had always acted as a powerful motivator but it was pointless unless she was in control with it. Leon was an ally, for now.
Contrary to Leon's expectations or intentions, he was having fun with the dance. Of course, it was not the focus of such a conversation. But he did not expect Carmillia to dance so well. For a shy girl, at least shy in his perception, she danced with a degree of confidence.
They were performing a standard Perrench waltz routine, albeit with reversed gender roles. Carmillia chose her time to speak carefully. As Leon twirled away in a spin, she gently snapped him back with a tug and he rolled back into her arms.
Leon returned from the spin with a tug from Carmillia, perfectly timed with the imaginary rythym. Now close to her, he awaited a response. He could only hope she had read between the lines of his actions.
"I'm not too sure either Manfred or Eun-ji would be happy that you made off with it like this." Though her words were chiding, her tone was gentle and hushed.
Leon chuckled. Then spoke matching his company's volume in turn. "No, I'm not sure they would be happy with all this at all. But Manfred and... Eun-Ji, they don't need to know right now." Leon's gazed wandered onto the walls of the entertainment hall they came from, his head turning to adjust to where the waltz took the two. "People who follow orders so tightly are rarely good at dancing after all." He remarked in an offhanded but matter of fact demeanor.
Carmillia momentarily pictured either of the two dancing. She could imagine the stoic Kerreman being versed in standard ballroom dances due to his noble heritage. Eun-ji most likely knew some traditional Tan Keoulian dances. She doubted that they would have been particularly skilled at them.
The thought faded away quickly. They weren't of importance at the moment.
What was important was to steer the conversation towards the topic of the Lyre. What were Leon's plans for the artifact? Patience, she thought. There was no need to rush. He had revealed on his own accord that the Lyre was on him. That discussion would come organically. Humor him.
Though she was still somewhat fatigued from the earlier brawl against the agents, she worked her magics on him. She was normally wary of employing her magic on him but she doubted he'd detect it in his current condition.
Leon was lost in the dance while waiting on Carmillia's response. His thoughts wandered to Manfred and Eun-Ji. How would they really react when they saw he had the lyre?
Manfred would probably try to take it from Leon by force if nessecary. It was about as much as he expected from a Kerreman soldier. And force would be necessary to take it from Leon's hands. He could not fond out yet.
Then Eun-Ji. Truthfully, he didn't know how she would react. But he doubted he could have much fun flirting with her afterwards.
Leon would let them know eventually. But first they had to learn to dance as Carmillia does.
"Are you implying I'm not good at following orders?" she asked, smiling as she did so.
Tendrils of magic worked their way into Leon, releasing endorphins that would relax him and cover up his fatigue. A temporary rejuvenation spell.
Carmillia's response snapped him out of thought. His gazed gently returning back to her. With a refreshing surge of energy, he was feeling a lot better. Even on the surface, his smile grew wider. But this time the smile held a more genuine quality to it.
"I didn't say that Carmillia. Truth be told, I know very little about you." Leon readjusted Carmillia's on his back, further onto the lyre. "But there is a reason I chose to waltz with you under the pale moonlight and not them."
Carmillia raised an eyebrow.
"We made an agreement to help one another. And I always keep my word."
"I'd argue that the one who's providing aid at the moment would be me."
Leon looked back toward Carmillia with some confusion. "How so?"
She smiled at his reaction. "Why, I was worried and came after you, did I not?" She paused momentarily as Leon bent backwards during the dip and continued when he came back up. "And I'd say the dancing has helped quite a bit, seeing as you no longer look as miserable as you did before."
So she did take notice of his fatigued state. That was cause for some concern in Leon's mind. But she wasn't taking advantage of it right now, and besides people get tired all the time. He chuckled after coming up from the dip with some relief. "You do have a point. But we must not forget the reason why we are dancing in the first place. Unless, you care little for such novelties?"
The Lyre.
"I wouldn't say that I cared little for it. The important question is, what do you think I want with it?"
"Well everyone who is anyone seems to want it. I just thought you would be the same." Leon took a pause to think out his next words. "As for why you would want it, I have no clue. I'm not even sure what to do with it myself."
"Are you implying you made off with it just for me?" she asked innocently.
"For us." A well told lie.
Carmillia refrained from believing she had Leon in the bag. Her experience with Dorothea served as a grim reminder. The students in Ersand'Enise were far more unpredictable than the rabble she usually dealt with. And she considered Leon to be several tiers above Dorothea in that aspect.
"For us," she echoed.
"I'm not sure what I am going to do with it. I just know that I want it right now. Out of the hands of the Traveller and those silly nobles."
"That is a notion I can agree with. Whatever the Lyre may actually be, I think it's time people like us take it away from their political chessboards."
And onto mine.
As the male role in the dance and consequently the lead, Carmillia changed up the tempo. Gone were the slow waltzes and foxtrots as she delved into a fiery tango, confident that Leon wouldn't fail to follow. The onlookers that had been mesmerised by their delicate dance were snapped back to reality as Carmillia used the escalating screams and cries of the riot as the musical backdrop their dance.
"I couldn't agree more." Leon matched Carmillia's pace in no time at all. He was fully prepared to dance the night away having little to gain but risking everything to try and help the riot. "I have been meaning to ask. Why is this ship sinking? I thought you and... those other two were going to stop the riot." Slowly, Leon began to take the lead of the dance despite remaining in the female role.
Carmillia adjusted accordingly, taking a background approach and letting Leon take center stage.
"The plan was to stop the riot. What actually happened was..." Instead of words, Carmillia used the dance to finish her sentence, shrugging twice, the moves uncannily timed with the sound of two quick explosions. "Let's just say Zarra went on a trip and Dory got caught up in the abberation."
Leon squeezed Carmillia's hand a bit when she mentioned aberrations. But released as soon as he realised and readjusted his smile.
It was not something Carmillia failed to notice.
"Ah, cuddling up with abberations. Madness and tragedy is sure to follow. You were happily to whispering with her just earlier. Could you do nothing to stop her?" Leon made sure to keep a playful tone, keeping out any accusatory inflections.
Carmillia showed a mock grimace. "Unfortunately, no. Dory took the lead in the negotiations due to her heritage. She got swept up by the pressure and we were seperated by dozens of rioters when she had taken in the abberation."
As if to show her dejection, her movements slowed down and she no longer matched up to Leon's lead as well as she did before.
Leon was slow to match back down to Carmillia's speed. "So then there was nothing you could have done could you..."
"I'd have stopped her if I could," she responded as she slowed to a stop. The dance was over. She gave a remorseful look, clearly blaming herself though whereas one might have intepreted her as feeling guilt over not being able to help Dorothea, the reality was she was actually frustrated by how she had naively believed in Dorothea's capabilities.
While the curiosity of what Carmillia could actually do perked up in Leon's mind. He could see it was not the time or place for that. He had clearly hit a sore spot for the girl.
It was at this moment that Eun-ji appeared.
"Mr. Solaire, Ms. Carbonneau, you are both needed. It is quite likely now that this ship is going to sink if we do not act. There are holes on the ship that need to be patched up, fires have broken out and are threatening to spread wildly. But most importantly, this chaos needs to be controlled. Otherwise, countless lives will likely be lost. Please, do whatever it is that you think can help. All of us need to work together if we are to manage this situation.”
Once she had finished her message, she dispersed into a puddle of water.
That would explain the complete lack of awareness, she thought. Carmillia snapped back to her usual self, any signs of her prior dejection gone.
"Any proposals, Leon?"
Leon's gaze was on the puddle which had once held the shape of Eun-Ji. What an interesting technique. He considered asking the girl to teach him that one day. But he wouldn't be willing to give away his own tricks in turn.
"I suppose we should go help. I wasn't paying attention if Hugo had mentioned how to get out of here." Leon looked toward Carmillia. "Besides, one should be wary of dancing for too long anyway. Or they risk being lost to fantasy forever." Leon took Carmillia's hand and kissed it with a bow as a sign of respect for his dance.
"Shall we save this boat?" He gestured toward the hall.
Truth be told, Carmillia would have preferred if they could have made off with the Lyre on one of the remaining rowboats but the repercussions would have been dire. It was much easier to attempt to salvage the mission and instead hide away the Lyre when Paradigm Hugo recalled them.
The two of them went back into the entertainment hall in hopes of quelling the riot. Things were looking grim; Carmillia lacked the ability to employ chemical magic over such a wide scale at a significant effect and Leon was running on fumes.
In the midst of the chaos, something caught Carmillia's eye. Two were dressed in similar garbs to the Traveler agents they had fought earlier. But that wasn't what caught her eye, it was the fact of the two, the man had been focusing on putting out the smaller fires in the hall. He had even just saved a woman and her two children from a rioter. She felt the gears in her head turning. She pulled on Leon's hand and went after him.
Carmillia had waited for the agents to seperate before making her appearance.
"So that's it? You stir up this... this chaos and run away with your tail tugged in between your legs?"
Leon was taken aback a bit. He did not expect Carmillia to be so confrontational. He was running on fumes but he did need to show it. He simply stood in a confident pose, but back a bit allowing himself to play second fiddle to her.
I'm lucky Carmillia is none the wiser to my weakened state. But I need to fool the agent as well.
The agent whirled to face her and Leon. Perhaps the tensity had gotten to him but he hadn't picked up on them sneaking up on him. He stared capriciously, eyes flitting between them. Carmillia sensed his lack of conviction and tugged.
"Is this what the Traveler stands for? Senseless violence and death?"
Carmilla could feel him drawing on energy, he was ready to engage in battle. He had no plans on talking things out. Not yet anyway. She waited till he made his move. Two more agents manifested, one on either side of him. To the naked eye, they were perfect clones. There was no shimmering of any sorts to imply they were illusions but unlike whatever Leon had did earlier, any trained magus could sense the arcane energies these possessed.
This was perfect, she thought.
Just as he was about to jump on them, Carmillia interrupted him.
"Yesterday's enemy is today's friend-"
He paused. In that instance of hesitation, Carmillia worked her magic onto him, stirring on his uneasiness and doubt.
Leon kept quiet, but kept his composure. He had made his stance with the Traveller clear back in the cargo hold. But its not as if news would have spread to his agents yet. Nevertheless, Carmillia was making sense.
"-and you can still make a difference instead of running. The innocents on this ship don't deserve to suffer for the war you have with the nobles. Help us. Help us save them." Carmillia waved at rioters senselessly dying before their eyes.
"What...what do you need me to do?"
"A ceasefire of sorts sounds like a good idea, no? No side wins if they all go down with the ship." Leon looked around the unconcious bodies scattered around the floor. "To make a change, you need people left to actually make it." He stopped himself there, allowing Carmillia to lead the conversation again.
Carmillia gave the quick run down on her plan. Leon would seize the attention of the rioters in the entertainment hall in order to put an end to the violence. As he was still fatigued, Firebrand would make up for the theatrics. Fortunately for them, Firebrand was a skilled arcane illusionist.
"I am perfectly able to cast of course. But it would be more fun to see an agent of the Traveller be my lights show."
While the riot is distracted by Leon's performance, Carmillia would seek out the original riot 'leaders'. Those that held influence over the common folk rioting. She would convince them to stop the riot.
Without casting, marbles, or an instrument Leon was pretty light on options. And no, he wasn't about to use the lyre of the gods just for a tune. Luckily, it wouldn't take anything fancy just enough to get their attentions off fighting. And a big display was needed for that.
Leon took an elevated position on a nearby table that hadn't been smashed in half. Then with the signal given to Firebrand, harmless but flashy light bathed the room emanating from Leon.
"Ladies and gentlemen. I think it's time we stopped fighting and looked upon the entertainment for tonight. Me."
An acrobatics show was just what the crowd needed and Leon was there to deliver.
With the crowd's attention on Leon, Carmillia bade her way towards the rioters of influence, recalling several from the upper deck where Dorothea had gone wild. Even an agent of the Traveler could see the senselessness of the riot which meant rabble like them could easily be convinced. She still had enough in her to sway them with her magics if needed.
"If you were able to time travel, what do you think you'd do with it?"
This philosophical question was brought to you by Jocasta Re as the group of school-age teens made their way from Amanda’s room to the common room. Kaspar and Yalen seized this opportunity to express their thoughts, and Ayla soon after with an equally thought-provoking idea. And yet, one remained discreet, keeping her eyes forward and somewhat separated from the group.
"How about you, Strong-but-Silent?"
Jocasta prodded. Zarina had remained conspicuously silent during this exchange. The subject itself did not appear to inspire much from the tall teen, and if anything, it prompted her to stick to the background. Her arms crossed under her chest as she paced slightly behind the others and just watched the evening skies. Jocasta then poked for both Ayla’s and Zarina’s attention, and again the Virangish kept discreet while the Torragonese expressed her views on the matter, more so than a wish. With the tone she used, it seemed like the subject had affected her patience and forced herself to answer.
”I don’t like to think of these things.” she states when a moment of silence came and inevitable attention was brought to her again, ”They busy the mind with things that won’t– or shouldn’t happen.” she scratched her cheek, ”I don’t dwell on the past and I make the future what I want it to be. No point skipping ahead.”
Zarina pursed her lips and shrugged to the group, knowing full-well that her answer brought nothing but awkwardness. She kept it at that and clearly didn’t seem too enthusiastic over the notion of sharing her genuine thoughts on such matters. It was almost quite cold how she held herself in such a harmless and probably meaningless exchange between friends. When they reached the common room, Jocasta and Yalen entered together to get things ready, while the Virangish went off to get a drink, only to find an adorable scene not long later.
Giving the two blondes the privacy they deserved, Zaz simply waited outside and gatekept those that would potentially intrude.
"Good to see you Zarina. Please, come in." Yalen held the door open and politely gestured for her to proceed, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for any other arrivals.
It looked as though the two were done. The door creasing open prompted Zarina to relent on the ‘too cool for school’ posture she held by it. She peered at the cuddle-recovering blonde that invited her back in, ”How we feeling, Yalen?” she was definitely still giving the look alright.
She took the invitation and stepped into the room, although she kept to the edges and didn’t appear to want to be noticed all too much, ”I hope you can excuse my lack of participation,” Zarina speaks up before others may join, ”I don’t exactly share the same enthusiasm for the Pentad as some others might.” and yet here she was.
Zarina kept herself in the background, vigilant and present. Where others prayed, she was left to her thoughts in the most uncomfortable of ways. At some point she would have to pay some mind to the communal worship, even if she didn’t quite participate. It allowed her to focus on other things- on others. How they conducted their faiths, potentially why they did it, and how much they were tied to it. She watched and judged, all so she couldn’t be left to observe and judge her own person.
The sun had long since fallen into the horizon, Zarina had retreated to her room, just as many others had. It was at this point that she fully realised how rancid her clothing had gotten, and to a lesser extent her entire being. Dried blood and guts were really reeking in the crevices of her attire, her hair was dried from all the dust and sand as well as- you know it- disgusting remains. She shuddered at the sight of her reflection on the mirror and quickly purged herself of the ranger clothing given to her, relegating them to a remote corner of her room. She was left with but a single, long top that covered most of her dignity.
A bath was readied, and in the meantime she would perform the second prayer of the day. Realistically, she hadn’t had a proper opportunity to do so, except perhaps when they stopped to eat. But by the time she had gotten through her issues with Marceline, it was time to go. So, as many did in Hexaism, she simply ‘expressed’ it. Prayers, after all, were meant to dedicate time of one’s life for worship, show discipline and some degrees of humility by sacrificing potentially good moments and giving time to prayer. But it was also all just works. Rituals, which most held close to their hearts but reasonably found shortcuts when circumstances made it so. Some were even lax enough to simply half-ass all prayers. All but the last one. The one before bed- the one before one dreamed. This one- every Hexaic worth their soul would do it right.
Zarina did her second while still mostly covered in filth and simply recited the words via mumbles while kneeling rapidly, wanting to just get it over with. The bath was more important. Once it was done, she cleaned up, enjoyed a good half-hour of heated water and thorough scrubbing before getting back at it.
The final prayer of the day could begin. Clean, with fresh clothes and the Hexaic pendant set right before her, hanging from the nightstand. Like the previous moment of worship, she mumbled over uttering, but she took her time. Eyes closed, muscles relaxed and mind made to be as serene as her washed body. Only, Zarina’s mind seldom ever found serenity. Whereas yesterday she thought of compassion and her hopes for others, a boiling anger deep inside was growing on this very night. The very stone her carpet was set upon was beyond soiled and this place reeked of nothing but death and misery.
May the nightmare …
She thought, gritting her teeth. The Virangish tried her best to purge the vile thoughts. The thoughts of a cauchemardesque world, where her anger was unrestrained and many feared her as much as they feared her mother. She imaged the faces- even those she’s never seen- of those that defiled these kids. Those that defiled the calamity that is Jocasta. Despite the endless compassion and generosity the awakening of the Dreamer could usher, she wished nothing but the nightmarish abyss to those many wicked in this world.
... seep into your very soul.
This release of anger, the excess energy she had remaining before hitting exhaustion- it was cathartic to release it. It was liberating, in a way, to poison the world and its future, just so those she hated could suffer. It was so easy to forget the good in the world. The Ayla’s, the Kaspar’s, the Yalen’s … When pain and anger all filled your head, at this very time. She did not want to hurt them, she wanted the best for them. But maybe, her desire to damn the wicked in her misplaced indignation was stronger than her will to bring good to those that deserved it. She hoped it wasn’t the case, but sometimes she wondered.
For the first time in a week, Zarina managed to sleep. Well, she collapsed onto her bed and slept in a dreamless slumber. She awoke earlier than most, but she was refreshed and not as volatile as she could be. First came the coffee, and then came a relaxing stroll outdoors before joining the meeting led by Escarra and Amanda.
Morning came, most were awake and Escarra, along with Amanda, announced the state of things. The Warden had been taken care of, the schedule was established and the next operation was to be conducted very soon. Zarina, sitting with a half-finished breakfast before her, raised her hand to pose her question, ”Where did you put the Warden?” she asked plainly, no beating around the bush with her eyes focused on Escarra in particular. Given their tight timeframe, if the answer wasn’t satisfactory, she would still have to go on doing her job.
”Otherwise, I can handle one of the Vice-Wardens. I just need a chem-person to help.” she then took a bit of churros and brought her gaze toward Luisa, who so happened to have stepped up in all her talkative glory. They all quickly went into action, with Luisa providing enough information on Adela’s routine to prepare an ambush. And it so happened that the stables were a good point of interception. This was going to be a good day, Zarina could feel it.
It was 4:48 Shune: two minutes to the hour. The nighttime cold was eagerly transforming itself into the desolate daytime heat of the high desert as morning was on the verge of giving way to midday.
The Refuge of San Agustín de las Arenas was well and truly awake now: the daytime shift of Cardinals at their stations, Magpies and Pigeons having cleaned up after another successful breakfast, the Tethered themselves walking or wheeling about the courtyard, paths, and colonnades, the first few dipping unfeeling toes into the water of the great bath. There were two people, known as Eagles to those ostensibly in their care, who walked purposefully from area to area.
One, Adela Mirabel Gonzalez, fifth daughter of a count and barren all her life, was approaching the stables, a distinct note of discomfort to her step. Ahead, she could see the girl who never stopped talking - Luisa - rolling towards one of the horses in her wheeled-chair, what appeared to be a bag of feed slung across her lap. At the vice warden's approach, the Afortunado twisted her way and waved a greeting. The area seemed conspicuously absent of all other human presence and that put her at further unease. She did not trust these people. The Tethered were dangerous. Presently, Adela began to reach out with the Gift, searching for other energies.
Zarina had been paired with Luisa, and their target was the female Vice-Warden. The patrol route was defined with basic information on both individuals, and so they waited with the Tethered teen unleashing a ceaseless discharge of words and Zarina tending to one of the horses further into the stables. She chose that one to stay out of sight when the time came, and it wouldn’t be until Adela sought to stake out any presences that the Virangish guest would show herself, waving with a brush in hand.
”Ah, hi!” she looked jolly and her high-pitched salutation helped to give off that impression. By the looks of it, Zarina likely didn’t get too much sleep the previous night either, but had enough to be functional. The horse she was tending to neighed after her greeting, ”Vice Warden Mirabel-Gonzalez, right?” her Torragonese accent was on point, ”I’m Zarina. You have wonderful horses. Especially this stallion here.” she reached out to caress the beast’s snout and he responded with the typical, affectionate flapping of his lips over her palm.
”Could I bother you for a bit of your time? I fear this one needs a bit of an advanced manicure. And, well, this one here-” she nudges her head toward Luisa with a smile, ”Has a bit of trouble with her height.” Zarina gave the official an intense, unmoving and wide-eyed look- not exactly threatening, but the tall teen was definitely trying to impose her presence into this relatively peaceful environment.
The Vice Warden blinked, pausing. She had not noticed the interloper. It was one of those students from Ersane'Enise, one of the ones that Tavio seemed determined to send to their doom. "Yes, I am she," Adela responded, knitting her hands before herself. "Pleasure to meet you, Zarina."
Yet, when the youth implied that she should help with the stallion's hooves, the older woman found herself insulted. A natural inclination, perhaps a weakness from birth, nearly took over and made her acquiesce. However, Adela quickly remembered who she was and what her position was here. Expression turning just a bit cooler, she forced a tight smile. "I shall call for some of the help to assist you," she said, turning about ninety degrees and taking both young women in. "It is their job, after all. For the time being, I must continue my rounds, especially with the danger that we now face." She shook her head and something that probably should've remained sealed within slipped out. "He should've called the Duke. All this pride..." The Vice Warden took a couple of steps, still open to responding, but ready to move on.
Zarina sighed from her nose, eyes closing very briefly as the Vice Warden rejected the invitation to help. When her eyes opened, her eyebrows furrowed and her teeth gritted slightly, ”Did you know?” she spoke up with a dry tone while giving a quick glance toward Luisa, indicating the Tethered youth that it was time to seal the exit, ”Did you know about the plan? The one where you’d sacrifice us, as well as Marci and your own people?” she stepped out of the stall and locked eyes with the timid creature that couldn’t spend a few moments helping a vital creature to their operations, ”Tell me- Vice-Warden- what are you going to do now? The Warden isn’t calling for help, or anything really. The Wyrm is coming. Everyone in the region is probably going to die in not too long.” her stepped closer, and the horses were beginning to neigh more and more, as if sharing the growing frustration brewing in Zarina’s being.
Just like that, Adela knew this for what it was: an ambush. Luisa was strong, though she did not make a show of it, and this student from the school likely stronger still. As she had always known hat they would, the Tethered were turning on their carers. The fools. The best course of action, the vice Warden decided, was simply to tell the truth. "I am not your enemy, stupid girls." She shook her head, trying not to sound too cutting. "I knew of the Warden's plan. I knew he would not be dissuaded, so I contacted the Duke Frannemas. He is on his way and will deal with the Wyrm." She shook her head. "Whatever this little rebellion is, it is unnecessary and unhelpful."
It was then that Luisa, normally a chatterbox but silent up to now, finally spoke. "Unnecessary and unhelpful to you, maybe," she accused, "But long overdue for us. Not that you would know or care. You've always feared us handling things on our own."
Adela was nonplussed. "A baseless falsehood!" she shot back. "I never said anything of the sort."
Luisa rolled her eyes, taking a push forward. "No. It was only in your tone, your expression, the way that you drew energy whenever you were around me, as if you were ready to defend yourself."
Adela's eyes darted between the two young women's implacable faces. "So are you going to attack me, then?" she demanded. "It is true that II find you dangerous - you are proving it right now - but I have never thought you incapable. What that you had simply been empowered by Tavio - that fool - to handle this yourselves, we never would've had to call the duke!" She paused, trying to gauge the two. "If I meet with him, I may yet be able to call him off..." she said.
Zarina began to draw from her surroundings as a conspicuous warning to the Vice-Warden the moment she qualified the two as ‘stupid’, ”Let’s not prod the side that has the numbers on you.” she stopped her approach, however, and stayed by Luisa while keeping an adamant eye on the authority figure.
”You were certainly very helpful when we, as well as your colleagues, were sent to die. The only one that stepped up was Escarra.” the Virangish went on to brush through Adela’s figure with a scrutinising gaze, sizing the woman up with close attention given to body language, ”We won’t hurt you, so long as keep on being agreeable like you are now.” Zarina’s attention scatters briefly and her attention is taken by a riding crop nearby that she picks up, ”Now- Tell me. In the case of a loss of control of the Refuge, what are the protocols?” her eyes turn from the crop she had been passing her digits over to the Vice-warden, ”Will the Duke attempt to take the establishment? Burn it down with everyone inside just to be safe?”
"I have never met the duke," Luisa added, tilting her head to the side. "Though I have heard of him, of course. Huarcan Frannemas is second only to the King himself, and some say not for much longer."
Would that she'd seen this coming earlier, Adela would've done something to head it off. Now, these two had her over a barrel. Now, she had to think. "The duke is a powerful man. If what we do here threatens him, then we shall find ourselves facing a fight we cannot win. If it serves him, however, or at least appears to do so, then he may yet be an ally and even grant you some of what you appear to seek." She shrugged. "It is hard to say in lieu of meeting with him." She furrowed her brow. "I would have to have words."
Zarina shifted her attention between the cornered Vice Warden and the crop in her hands, eventually only holding it with one hand after giving a couple of test swings, ”Haven’t used one of these in a while. Used it to help my horse, Riesco, get into a gallop faster and reach his potential. A sort of encouragement, not really a punishment.” by the swings, however, it was clear Zarina had the power to really make it hurt, ”If we were to bring you downstairs, kept quiet until this Wyrm issue is resolved- Señora Mirabel-Gonzalez- would there be a need for additional encouragement for you to comply?” she nudged her chin forward, eyes wide and expecting an answer from Adela.
”Do you think she can ever be trusted, Luisa?” she inquired while keeping her wide stare on the second-in-command, ”You’ve known her for much longer than I have.”
Before Luisa could offer her opinion, the Vice Warden interjected, voice rising in panic. "You are making a huge mistake if you try to hurt me or.... or lock me up." She glanced both anxiously and vexedly at the crop. "I am no threat and I am valuable to the duke. I'm his agent. I can talk to him!" She took a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate. "I am not your enemy. Surely, you can trust me to look after my own best interests!"
Luisa tilted her head to the side, positively Jocasta-like in the gesture. "To answer your question, Zarina..." She narrowed her eyes. "You can't trust her an inch further than you could throw her."
”Valuable?” Zarina raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer to the vice warden to intrude on her personal bubble. She could trust Luisa to at least have her back if the older woman attempted anything, ”I don’t think anyone condemned to work here is all that valuable.” she chuckled, both at her own remark and Luisa’s assessment of Adela’s worthiness of trust. With little warning, the Virangish smacked her own palm with the shaft of the tool she had been swinging, prompting an unpleasant, visceral sound to assault the cornered woman’s ears, ”I figure it would be a huge mistake for you to not let yourself be locked up. Unless you’d prefer some mob justice out there.” she gestures her own head toward the exit of the stables, ”I’m sure more than a few hold higher-ups like you responsible for the more unsavoury things going on here.”
She let that threat sink in, all the while placing herself between the exit and Adela, and Luisa covered the other direction. There was nowhere to go, and Zarina’s shadow was perfectly cast over the other’s being. But, she sighed and let her body relax a little, ”But we’re not here to take lives. Orders are to preserve them. And usually-” she locked the crop between her armpit and arm, and reached out for a nearby bag of feed. A carrot was taken out to be fed to the nearest horse with a flat palm, ”the carrot works better in these cases. Surrender yourself to Luisa. You’ll be taken care of. And then you’ll have your word with the big man when he arrives.” she looked over at the vice warden expectantly while the horse munched happily on the treat.
Adela saved a choice glare for Luisa. The girl had always had something against her and now that she'd had the chance to act on it, she had. "You are making a mistake that could cost you dearly," the Vice Warden warned. "Don Frannemas will shoot first and ask questions later if he feels he cannot trust the situation." She forced a shrug, though, hiding her fear and bitterness. It was clear that these ungrateful tethered - who had no idea how difficult it was to staff and run a refuge - had corrupted the students and brought them wholly onside, not that Adela could blame them all that much with the way that idiot Tavio had decided to deal with them. "But it is quite strongly built and isolated there beneath the red tower. When he razes this place to the ground because you didn't listen to me, I will be safe enough, I suppose." She held her hands out in acquiescence. "Lead me away or I can see myself there. It does not matter."
Zarina rolled her eyes, her fingers simulating a mouth yammering about when Adela shifted her gaze away from the Virangish while making a goofy face, ”Yeah, well, we’re counting on you to slip in a good word when the time comes, yeah?” she noded toward Luisa to do the deed and knock out the Vice-Warden with her chemical magic. When everything seemed to be under control, Zarina shelved the crop and continued to give a bit of feed to the animals, ”Although, good to know the basement is that durable. Thanks for that.” she flashed a quick smile toward Adela, probably right before she fell into dreamland.
”Hmmm,” panic in the Refuge was getting louder. If Luisa hadn’t captured the sounds yet, Zarina would have at this point, ”know a way to get her nice ‘n’ comfy without dealing with more jumpy staffers? I can handle the carrying.”
The energy was still cooling in her veins. Her target was asleep. Though it couldn't quite be characterized as a 'hatred', there was little love lost between Luisa and the Vice Warden. "Gods, that felt satisfying," the former remarked, as the latter slumped half on the ground, half across her lap. "I should've let her hit her head. Might've knocked some empathy into the bitch."
”She was a bit of a cunt,” Zarina nodded, amused while handling a very large and empty bag of what likely used to contain feed. She flapped it straight and began to fit the sleeping vice warden in it, ”but I’ve seen far worse. And I’m sure you have, too.” she was careful to not hurt Adela- the woman did concede without a struggle and complied, so Zarina was going to stick by her word, ”At least you’ve shown you’re not a cunt. Just a bit of a tart.” she winked at Luisa.
After a moment, Zarina spoke. Luisa shrugged easily. "All you, boss lady." She pulled a small flask out from the folds of her dress, uncorked it, and took a sip. "I'm good to help if you need me." She furrowed her brow, then, casting about for Felix. Then... she felt his energy and it was not good.
The Vice Warden was carried over Zarina’s shoulder. The Virangish was built stronger than the average female, but mostly utilised the Gift to make the task far easier. She relied on Luisa to navigate while she brought along this conspicuous bag that was just loose enough to not be TOO obvious. Still, she hurried, before things got a bit too hot in the Refuge. So far, this day was indeed going pretty well.
-Zarina isn't too engaged by Joscata's philosophizing. -She attends Yalen's prayer in the common room, but stays in the background, discreet. -She prays to the Dreamer in her room, but feels nothing but resentment and anger as she remembers where she is and how vile people can truly get. She sees but a nightmare. -Gets good sleep and wakes up early, attends the meeting and asks where the Warden is stashed. -Teams up with Luisa to ambush Vice-Warden Adela. -Adela is given a choice: The easy way or the hard way. A riding crop is used as effective illustration. -Adela concedes and is knocked out, but not before mentioning the Duke Frannemas, his inevitable intervention and how he'll mow down everything if he feels threatened. She claims to be his agent and can talk him down. -Zarina and Luisa knock her out anyway, but nicely.
Inner Boat Storage Room, Entertainment Area, Outer Boat Storage Room, and On-Deck Restaurant
Zarra was still playing with the likely fake lyre when caught floor movement. “Oh merde!” Was his first thought, he was lucky he had the discipline to not shout allowed, Poetically, alarms went off in his blonde head. “The ship is actually leaking! How on Eshiran did they manage to breach the hull??” Eun-ji finally breaks him out of his trance and engages the distracted mage, very expertly fighting off any signs of having a mini-panic attack.
”We need you both. It was a smart decision to go here to seek safety, but we need you both. Everything is going very out of control and this ship might really end up sinking, taking countless lives with it. We need everyone if we are to deal with this crisis. As soon as Ms. Hohnstein is well enough to act, please join me and Manfred outside. It is time to coordinate and actually start working together.”
Trying to make sure he wasn't the only person who saw that, he turned to Dorothea, who curiously was hardcore spacing out, awkward silence between them both. Dorothea breaks her silence, making eye contact with him. "If they truly need me, I should at least try. Giving up is not a thing I was taught after all. Thank you, for taking care of me.”
Zarra was thrown a little off-guard at her just leaving like that, he was about to chase after her, but he saw that he went back towards the direction of Manfred. He'll let him handle her at this point, Zarra realizes at this moment that duty calls. While Eun-Ji would sure like to set up a strategy with him, all that will do is take extra time and arguing they simply can't afford.
Zarra reasons there must holes on the bottom of the boat if they're taking in water, he'll prioritize finding those first as the higher floors would take too long and by the point the water reaches those, they're pretty, well, sunk. He shifts into his greyborn form, the boat's momentum no longer effecting him and actually giving him a bit of vertigo for a second watching it bob and weave without him. Regardless, he continues his mission. The lack of visibility surely is a problem, and actually, he thinks it's gotten worse? It isn't an issue as long as he can still the outlines of walls and the rising liquid. He first follows the obvious leak into the storage room, the current leading him through the wall and into an entertainment room.
To his luck, nobody is there. However, can see water patiently leaking out of a hole in which someone shoved a cap into. While he was appreciative that someone atleast tried to fix the leak, it wasn't enough, that's where he'd come in. He touches the cracks around the plug, slowly but surely weakening the atoms and reforming their bonds. At his skill level, the bonds will be weak, and shatter upon any force impact, but it's better than doing nothing. With that fixed, he thought about his options.
He assumes that since most of the rioters don't have magic, the only way to pull off such a feat is with tools. He remembers the supply closet that he came out of when he first sabotaged the ship, after going ghost, he decides to check there. Unsurprisingly, Zarra finds that the storage closet has been forced open, and all of its equipment missing. “Well that solves that question...” While he doesn't see anyone around right away, he does hear the noise of destruction. Following the noise, deciding to be incorporeal was a smart play here. Several rioters are splitting open crates, hoping to find anything of value to thieve. A bunch more are arguing over a large dent in the side of the ship, which has a slit in it and naturally water pouring out. Zarra walks in, strategically choosing to rematerialize outside the vision of others, as to not spark panic. The wall of the ship makes a loud wrenching noise as Zarra uses his basic understanding of magnetic on it, everyone in the room staring at him incredulously. He is able to undo the warping, leaving the hull almost concave in shape. He goes towards the wall, and uses magic to seal the split shut, his fellow men watching in awe, fixing the problem that everyone in the room was worried about.
Zarra decides to entertain their astonishment, he turns around, addressing the whole room. “Not all nobles are bad, this one just saved your ass.” And with that, he seemingly does the impossible and walks through the wall he had just fixed. Some of onlookers are gonna need new pairs of pants after that.
Outside the ship, Zarra catches the view of a bearded man in the water and struggling to stay afloat, he must have gotten pushed off at some point. Before the boy can even comprehend the idea of saving him, an alligator basically launches out of the water and bodyslams this dude. Zarra almost turns white at the idea of a crocodilian pretending to be a Luchador. After the splashing clears, the poor soul is limp and face down in the water. He's then pulled underwater, and blood rises just as quickly in his place. Zarra makes a hand gesture reminiscent of a prayer, backing away and continuing to logic out where other possible damage could be.
The binder thinks long and hard. “Wait, didn't the ship have a restaurant section? Surely some idiot has managed to blow something up in there” Continuing to ignore such simple obstacles like debris and walls, he heads to the kitchen of the lower deck. “How even?!...” he mentally exclaims. There is a giant hole where clearly something used to be. The tide is seeping in every few seconds, and the floor is soaked up to his ankles. He considers his options on how to fix such a problem, and after some solid seconds letting the water chill his feet, Zarra gets an idea.
He flips over one of the wooden large restaurant tables. While the wood is rather light, him being so scrawny means he struggles to lift it. He dusts away the legs of the table, absorbing their energy with a strategy in mind. He goes over to the gaping chasm and recreates the table legs so they it matches the depth of the breached metal. He does this 4 all legs, then goes back to the table. He rebinds the table legs back on into the center of the table, in such a way that they all create a tight square. He then takes another table, faces the flat side towards the wall, and pushes it near the ominously large rupture, this so he can reach it for the final part of his plan. Finally, he nears the DIY table, and lifts it.
He shifts into the other dimension, you would think by doing so, any object going with would be weightless. But this sadly not the case. Good thing he has such an ability, otherwise he'd have to explain why he's without clothes every time he uses the power. Using the intangibility to his advantage, he shoves the table through the walls of the ship, intentionally making it land outside. In quick succession, he reforms and pulls hard, slamming the table against the hull and by extension sealing the gap, He holds on to the table legs that he created as both handholds and as a way to fuse both tables together. However, to his dismay, he can't reach other table and pull it closer, having misjudged the distance. He's using his entire body weight to keep the water shield from falling into the sea. If that happens, the overgrown lizards will have it. With his arm starting to get tired, he starts using kinetic to hopefully spin the other table over in front of him.
After a few tries, he loses his patience and puts his whole force into it, causing the table to almost spin midair. He narrowly manages to dodge crushing his own arm. But in those few moments, all his mana reserves are continued to be taxed as he summons wind from outside the ship to hold the outer board in place, and he slams himself into the inner board, causing them to collide in a racket of wood and metal. As the final piece of the puzzle, Zarra uses binding to fuse the exposed ends of the table legs to the other table, essentially interlocking both and making it impossible to move one without the other. He analyzes his work, to his relief, the boards seem tight enough to never waver. Zarra thinks about a way to get rid of all the water, but his stamina depleted, he decides to let Eun-Ji, someone more specialized in water manipulation than he is, to handle that task. Finally mentally done with fixing the ship, he phases one last time to head towards the team intervention... Or so he thought.
As he passed the bloodmage's body, he facepalms himself. He forgot that he had sabotaged the engine. Being that it's their only real option for getting back to shore, he sighs. He telefrags the air one more time and goes over to the Traveler Agent's body. He pulls out the pipe, still covered in bits of gore and brain matter. He uses basic binding to undo his work, including remaking the little bolt holes. After scanning the room, he finds that the arcane mages and Forceful are missing, he decides not to worry about it. He goes over to where the missing section is, steam pathetically rising out. He looks down, and realizes the rivets are gone, having rolled away from the back and forth of the ship. Zarra rolls his eyes and binds the pipe to the rest of the system.
A combination of magic overuse and seasickness finally get to him, He ends up leaning over braced against the wall, his nausea building. Without much remorse, he vomits moderately onto himself and the floor, cleaning himself off with a nearby towel. He ultimately decides he doesn't have the constitution or energy to use his greyborn powers again and just walks his way to the meeting.
After another late evening and a sermon by Yalen, Ayla spends the opportunity to collapse upon the bed and start to sleep. The girl was barely out of her clothing as she crawled upon the top of it, sinking into the duvet. It seems like forever since she had the luxury of a good night's sleep, and with the promise of further disruption in the morning, perhaps she had a very real temptation to lock herself away completely for the night. Life has taken some unusual turns and in such a small space of time as well. The life of the student at the academy was active in the extracurricular department. Though, for now, she is at home in this room, with this comfy pillow, and nothing to do but rest and sleep for a long peaceful moment.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Ayla grumbles as she is disturbed by it. ”What is this noise?”. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The repetitive ticking of a bell and wood coming together was relentless. Begrudgingly, she opened her eyes as she turned to look on the bedside cabinet next to her, peering at a pint-sized Ysilla looking down towards her, the workings exposed as it moved around in a manner similar to a marionette. ”Oh, Ysilla, you surprised me.” She looks up towards her as the marionette puppet shifts its posture and expression as it communicates towards her. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Ayla offers her a questioning look, ”Fine, but it better be important to disturb my sleep like this”. She picks up the puppet within her arms as she makes her way towards the door and steps through it to enter the balcony back in Varrahasta. ”See? Everything is how it should be.”.Tock. Tock. Tock. The puppet cranes its head as it appears upside down as it looks up towards Ayla, its arm rising in a stilted manner as it points in the distance as a dark ominous cloud seems to obscure the sky as it travels towards the docks.
Ayla could feel a breeze upon her face as she swept the hair to the side, as it fluttered behind her. On the dockside she notices something, someone, a figure dressed in an usual blue. She starts to walk off the balcony towards it. As her feet walk through the air, she experiences a strong vibration sensation tickling the skin, the feeling as if she was standing on a piano during a concert. As she makes her way down these invisible steps, instinctively knowing where the next one is, hopping between them with a light bounce. Feeling mischievous, as she realises what is happening, she tries to step off the set route, soon distracted and misstepping to fall flat upon another platform. She looks up to the disapproving look of Ysilla glaring down towards her. Tick. Tick. Tick. ”You don’t have to give me that look. It is not everyday you are walking on sound.” She starts to pick herself back up again, brushing herself down. ”Since you are in one of those moods, let me show you something.” Ayla slams her foot down as the platform erupts in a bass drop, the pair of them propelling through the air, as Ayla waves her hands, smashing through platform after platform, feeling herself accelerating as she flies at increasing velocity. Ysilla cannot contain her excitement as her cog head continues to spin around in circles. ”See? Knew you would like this.” The pair seem to grow heavier, a sensation as if they were turning into a solid lump as they were approaching some kind of invisible barrier, the air whipping around them. The platform ahead was now simmering to an extent that they could not clearly see through the other side. As they impact it their bodies seem to feel as if they were morphing into liquid as a massive eruption of sound breaks around them, then being flung forward faster than the speed of sound itself. At this point, Ayla is unable to communicate at all with Ysilla as the puppet seems to cling onto its hat. The water around her eyes evaporates, everything goes blurry and dark, passing out during the transit.
Ayla suddenly shudders violently as almost falls backwards in her chair. The crowd of people looking towards her in a disapproving manner. King Sancho claps his hands together, ”Glad you have returned to us, Señora Arslan, we still have important matters to attend to.”, the others in the room laugh as she takes stock of what is going on around her. She only appears to know a few of these individuals by their reputation alone, but these are all powerful and influential figures of Torragon, including her own father and brother, positioned near the head council. It appears they are looking over a map of Sipenta, one that seems to shift as seasons pass. From what she can see, it appears that the world is truly at war as the borders are constantly shifting and changing. Tick. Tick. Tock. The last rung is slower and sad. Ysilla puppet is sitting on the map where Virang is, showing a creeping line of a Torragonese advance. What is surprising is the sudden surge from Duque Frannemas, as he waves his hand as he seems to be almost suppressing Virang himself single-handedly, occupying the Hexiac nation. The Duque moves his hand over to place it upon Ayla’s knee, lifting up a glass in celebration, “There is one who should truly take credit for this, my dear Arslan”. She looks up and around to see eyes are fixed towards her, a shadow cast over their faces, her father and brother… even the King. Duque Frannemas removes his hand with a condescending smirk, as he raises his arms as those present kneel down before him. As the Duque gloats in his accomplish, it was this moment the Ysilla puppet starts to wobble, moving in a very clunky marionette manner towards him as it falls apart, a white snake uncoiling and slithers towards the edge of the table, lunging forward to bite right into the man’s jugular, as he begins to wither and collapse upon the floor, gasping for his breath.
Ayla hears sounds around her, parseltongue accent. “Silence brethren”, “Silence.”, “The Sleeper has awakened”, “The Sleeper”. She looks around only to see herself surrounded in darkness. ”Who are you?”, the girl feeling very unnerved, as a rhythmic hissing and rattling permeates the air. The spice of the sand wyrm penetrates her nostrils. “We are those who slither in the dark”, “Slithering”, “Those slithering”, “The dreamer must continue to sleep”. Bright blue serpentine like eyes appear in the darkness, glaring towards her.
Ayla shifts her position as she turns, also turning the pillow over in the process. Pillow had dampness from her mouth as she appeared to be drooling. She sighs as she buries her face into that softness.
She now finds herself in a greenhouse filled with a rich herbal aroma, a cup of Zeno Bucks coffee in her hand. “You'n trippin on me already?”, she turns to face a strange Yasoi woman. “You’re in for a right doozy.” She feels herself passing out again.
Ayla is walking through the dark cloud as she is overlooking the world below. “Nid yw pethau byth yn newid”, a strange blonde woman, the one from the docks earlier, is standing next to her seemingly taking observations below her. She turns to face Ayla, briefly examining the female before continuing on, “Mae'n ymddangos eich bod yn anghywir”. Ayla is unfamiliar with this language, trying to indicate and return her speech in Avincian, “Who are you?”. The woman pauses for a moment, seeming to be almost as perplexed as Ayla looks yet somehow able to hold a stoic quality to her expression, as she seems to be pressing on some kind of board in front of her after this development. “Aeronwyr. We have not had a speaker in here before.” The blonde continues to press upon her board as the glass below appears to disappear into darkness as she walks off to the side. ”So… where are we?” as she looks expectantly towards her. The woman, Aeronwyr, seems to show the briefest of smiles before adopting a formality in her posture. “Who, What, Where, When and Why”. She moves over as she seems to continue examining a strange array of all weird and wonderful objects. What Ayla notices most of all is a persistent buzz in the air, a sound that is ever present and unrelenting. “The short answer to your question. You are not meant to be here.” Ayla rolls her eyes as the woman seems to state the obvious, ”We were down there.”, she gestures towards the blackened windows, the Ysilla puppet twirling its head around as it is sat upon the desk, its features missing vital panels though it appears as if it had tried to partially re-assemble itself. Aeronwyr puts down the board, as Ayla can see the colourful moving pictures upon it. “You never existed. Because of the meddling, you came to be. All is not lost, the breach can be repaired”, Aeronwyr seems to be pressing upon the board in a rather enthusiastic manner. “You have to ensure the traveller doesn’t succeed. You have to take his towel. I cannot explain further.” Even the Ysilla doll looks terribly confused with its expressionless face at this revelation. “May the Tridecagon be preserved. Sister protect.”, Ayla tilts her head to the side to ask the most important question, “The Tri-what?”.
Ayla is amongst a field filled with flowers, a canopy of colours similar to that of a rainbow. However, Ysilla has now fallen beyond repair next to her, the bell is not even giving its chirping ticks. She feels sad as she starts to brush away the dirt, making a hole where to place the disassembled pieces. ”Thank you for always being by my side.” The puppet looks up with her expressionless face, though emotion in the air is sombre as the world responds to her. As she covers the puppet up, the remaining pieces unfold to reveal a seed which is watered and the earth patted down. The seed sprouts as a green shoot rises up into the sky, the stem forming bark as it grows width and mighty with the tree sprouting seven branches. Jocasta moves next to Ayla, looking up to admire the sight with her, “This is the earth tree, Ysdrasilla”. The girl moves her hand to point towards a little bud blossoming into a flower adorning the third branch. ”That is you, my dear Ayla.” Ayla looks up at the tree in amazement and awe of its size, especially as five great trunks weave and intertwine amongst the branches. ”What do those represent?”, as she points them out to Jocasta. The blonde seems to demonstrate a blush as her cheeks grow rosy, ”Well, a girl is allowed to have secrets.”
Ayla shifts her position yet again as she senses the light already pouring into her room as the rays lay across her face, turning her back on them. She curls up under the sheet as she pushes back against the world.
Yalen is sitting there reading a book as she looks up towards him, ”How long have you been there?” she questions. The blonde boy continues to read after seemingly his chapter has finished, placing in a bookmark between the pages and closing it. “I have come bearing a prophecy.” The boy makes the sign of the pentad hourglass, placing his hands together in prayer. “You must eat your greens. I have spoken.” The door opens as an oversized tree of broccoli bursts through it. “TOOO LATEEE….!”, if Broccoli had a mouth, it would show a very menacing right now, especially as she could feeling the murderous intent as it is now charges towards her, the world fading into darkness
“What is it with you and the blondes, kitty cat?”, Zarina stands there looking towards her with those wide eyes and glossy thick black mane. Ayla moves over to stroke the horse along its neck in gentle affectionate caresses. ”Apparently to save the world, one needs a towel and a stick of broccoli”. Zarina the horse gestures with its head for Ayla to heat up the coffee jug as she continues to listen. ”It is a problem. Where are you going to find a stick of broccoli in the desert?”, Ayla has never considered this possibility before, turning inwards with her thoughts for the briefest of moments. ”Don’t stress too much, otherwise I would need to carry you on my back again.” Zarina gives a big neigh as she bumps her head into the side of Ayla. ”Get pouring that coffee.”
“Sand Wyrm’s use chemical magic to create a psychoactive dust cloud to confuse prey and predator alike”, the mysterious figure walks around the bed as he seems to be pointing out various features of Ayla’s body as she is lying there asleep. “It is my belief that this specimen is suffering from short term exposure.”, one of the others seems to be taking a closer look, “This one does appear to be healthy. At these levels of concentration, it shouldn’t affect her”, “Now that may be conventionally true, this one appears to be drug-naïve.” Other individuals appear to be taking notes as Ayla is watching the demonstration from afar in an out of body experience.
Ayla grumbles as the morning bells within the refugio are ringing as her senses start to demonstrate some clarity, the vivid nature of reality overloading as everything appears to be crystal sharp and in focus as she drags herself from the bed and starts to make her way to the bath to prepare for the day. As the plans are starting to unfold, she does find herself in the centre of things to come within this facility. ”Perhaps the children will distract me from those bizarre dreams…”, as she walks out she notices something, a gift, seemingly left out for her on the bedside cabinet. ”Huh.”
Ayla is dreaming. See Collab entries in Force's post for story progression.
Benedetto had noticed the odd urn marks and clumps of irregular glass in the sand, just like Penny. There were few... almost as if they'd been purposefully cleaned up. As the others talked, he tapped on the wall and, with a start, couldn't help but notice that it was hollow. Bastards, he thought, trying to hide something from me? While the princess was busy consulting with one of her allies, he turned to the others with a significant look. "We should go in," he whispered. Or I'll break you. He kept the last part to himself. Whatever lurked beyond... perhaps it might even be interesting.
Trypano reached out with her mystical senses, looking throughout the cave, feeling out the terrain around them. She used her power to draw in some pieces of elements from the rock around them to better identify it so she might be able to manipulate it further. She was alerted to a possible hollow point notified by Benedetto. The others were investigating another location but his path also showed promise.
"Perhaps we should try and see what's past the wall before attempting to open it should there be an ambush laying wait."
Glancing Trypano's way, Ismette nodded. "Agreed. Something about this doesn't sit right." She took a sniff of the air with those well-developed olfactory senses of hers and thought that she could detect a slight whiff of.... sulfur?
Desmond had been drying off this entire time. He grabbed his hat and began to shake it of water and sand. He was slightly upset that the ship had sunk, yet he was at least happy he was able to keep the flag. He could hang it up on his wall, or when he gets a bigger ship, fly that as well. As they made it in, Desmond was curiously looked around, it was until he began a rhythmic beat appear he became alert. Benedetto had been tapping on the cave trying to search for something. Desmond became intrigued in his search, where when Benedetto found something, Desmond was already on board in searching.
"I think it'll be interesting to see what's hidden"
As when Trypano and Ismette spoke Desmond thought it would be smart, yet it's not something difficult as Desmond begins to extend his senses to 'see' if anyone or anything is beyond the wall. Well, sense the energies beyond it.
Ingrid was utterly humiliated that they had missed. Not only that, they had been saved by Benedetto. Again. What am I even doing here? I'm useless. Benedetto seemed to have noticed a hollow point on the wall and was itching to investigate. Ingrid wasn't driven by curiosity at this point. The only thing she knows is that without help, she'll die apparently.
Ingrid listened to her team's observation. Ingrid thought it could be a sulfur gas behind the wall with what they have seen. Ingrid spoke up that it would be best to make a gas escape on a higher part of the wall if it is gas and that she could make if they would like.
Penny had been struggling with the terrain. Her muscles ached and her joints strained like those of a woman forty years older. There was only so much that kinetic magic could do to make up for the lack of a left leg and hours worth of desperate flight, combat, and adventure. She was exhausted. She glanced at the others surreptitiously. "I think you should do it. Go see. I'm out of steam, though. I'll occupy my 'fellow royal' in the meantime."
Desmond gave a nod to Penny as he said, "Alright, be careful don't rest too hard, we might have a bit more to do"
Trypano nodded in concurrence with some of the other suggestions.
"Perhaps if we create a hole we could light a flame to burn off the excess flammable elements behind the wall. We'd need to stand clear of any possible shrapnel in case of an explosion capable of shattering the false wall. Alternatively I could try converting the elements in the air within into it's less flammable, more breathable compound."
Ingrid nodded and sent vibrations through the stone, feeling how the energy moved through the stone to determine the appropriate area to place it. She heard Trypano's suggestion and it seemed safer. Ingrid nodded and made a 2 inch hole in the stone to let Trypano start converting the gasses.
Benedetto could sense Ingrid's mopeyness and it was hard to suppress a grin. The strong cope and the weak fold, he thought, but he had better things to do than mess with some dumb Eskandishwoman's head. Instead, he thought it might be fun to throw her a bone. He jerked a thumb her way. "Honestly, she's right." He reached out with his senses. There wasn't much that he could detect beyond, aside from a few of the chemical reactions one would expect from a cave. It was almost... too easy. They would need a meatshield. "We should make a gas escape and do the converty thing and I say that Ingrid should lead. She's worked underground unlike the rest of us. Besides, she's the only other one I'd trust to deal with whatever comes our way." He even threw a smile at her. Of course, Benny could've done it all himself, but sometimes it was fun to watch other people do it. He'd blow something up later to make it up to them.
Meanwhile, Penny was saying her temporary goodbyes. "I'll be on call. If you're not back within an hour, I'm leading a party down there." She returned her attention to Princess Amelea, separating the two groups with far more political grace than Benny ever could.
After a couple of minutes, the smell of sulfur lessened, but Ismette made it clear that there was still more behind it, almost as if there was a source somewhere in the distance beyond the hollow wall. With that, Benedetto had had enough of waiting around. He punched a hole through the wall and twisted, grinning, to Desmond. "Hey!" he taunted, "Think you can punch a bigger one?"
Ismette blinked and looked at the others. She made some light in her hands and shone it in through the hole. "Punch away, boys," she said with an eyeroll.
Benedetto was impulsive and prone to bickering, both impairments to progress. Still, he had helped both earlier and in finding this hidden location. Trypano wasn't going to throw out his suggestion regarding Ingrid out of pure spite for his character as it was a sound idea. Someone familiar enough with mining would be some use in proper tunnel scouting. Perhaps not the best but still.
"I'll continue to maintain purity for us. Ingrid, since you are familiar with tunnels you should be able to alert us of other visible dangers regarding such spelunking."
That said she was disinterest in their punching competition, enough so that she actually caught that Penny was heading out. She gave a glance and a wave as she departed.
Ingrid was wondering where the sulfur was coming from. Their is a chance that their is some volcanic activity and this is just some of the gas leaking through. Either way, if it was coming from deeper than they couldn't change all of it.
Ingrid destroyed some matter on the shape of an arch with a flat bottom and then gently using her kinetic magic moved it out of the way with out making a spark.
She looked at the punching competition and simply said be careful, if their are other gasses and you ignite it than we're all in trouble.
She nodded to Trypano and said thank you.
Desmond waited for some time as he listened to the others, he was constantly using his senses to see if anything changed as they let the gases out and changed them. It seemed as Ismette said that there is a source that is producing more, and in that moment Benedetto punched a hole in the wall as he looked to Desmond and tried to taunt him. Desmond chuckled as he drew his fingers across the wall as he brought his hand against it for a moment before he threw his punch.
Using his knowledge from many different martial arts, he knew how to best produce the maximum amount of energy from the body. He was in a slight bend of knees as he drew his fist away as that was the moment he threw his punch. As his fist flew, he extended his knees to generate power from his toes to transfer it to his hips, twisted his hips to transfer the energy to his back, twisted and extended his back to send it through his shoulder, his shoulders twisted, to send the energy through his arm, as his arm twisted to send all the energy he culminated to his fist. As the moment before impact Desmond prepared as upon impact he would take in the kinetic energy from his punch that he would take back from the force so he is able to put every ounce of force into the punch without fear. As he planned to send his fist through the wall and possibly take it down if the wall is too weak.
The rock collapsed with a clatter, Desmond's punch doing the job, and Benny raised his eyebrows in approval. Thankfully, there wasn't enough flammable gas in the air to make anything ignite, and Ingrid had soon smoothed out a nice, simple path for them.
Of course, very quickly, the floor became rocky and uneven. It was treacherously dark in here, the light from their entrance dim and fast-fading. Dampness and clay and lime soil made the ground deceptively slick, and water pooled in certain areas. he ceiling was low and the three tall women had to watch their heads and move in a crouch at times.
Yet... this subterranean space was not nearly so cold as it should've been. There was a chill, but it was quite bearable, and so the group went deeper, maintaining arcane light with their hands, watching their footing, and stretching out with their senses.
Once again, Ismette's keen eyes revealed things for them. "Look," she whispered, voice echoing in the sill, dripping darkness, "more of those same tracks." It was like a number of soft people-sized things had been dragged over the rocks. The space was energy-poor as well. Aside from some minor chemical reactions and a very small amount of ambient heat and kinetic energy from dripping water, there was vanishingly little, almost... unnaturally so.
"Nothing to fucking draw from," complained Benedetto, but there was something else: a growing noise in the background. Ingrid, who'd saved up enough energy, was able to call light out in front of the group for a fantastic bright burst that illuminated what lay ahead for a split second.
Beyond the wide but low area that they crept through lay an enormous cavern. An underground river wound its way past, fed by a waterfall that only now came into drawing range, providing ample energy. Stalactites and stalagmites rose from the floor and ceiling, colossal, and grimy crystals veined the walls.
The river branched two separate ways and the group would have to decide which to follow. That was when Ismette spoke up, shining her light on the near edge of the underground stream. "Look at this," she said, "it's uniform here. This bank wasn't carved by nature."
The cavern wasn't very surprising to her. What was surprising was the sulfur. It could be made my organic means but the temperature was still relatively warm. As a small precaution, Ingrid sensed for radiation. Their shouldn't be any but until they know where the heat was coming from she couldn't rule it out.
As Desmond brought down the wall, he turned and threw a smile to everyone and said, "Looks like I win", as he did a light bow before the entrance as he said to Ingrid, "Ladies first".
As they traveled Desmond was keeping watch over everything, in caution he waited to use his own energy, as Benedetto so wisely stated, they had nothing to draw from. Yet the moment they made it to the opening they were able to draw from a waterfall.
And in Ismette fashion she noticed the very nature itself seem off, as she said the stream wasn't carved naturally.
"Hmm, that's odd", Desmond generated some light on his first 2 fingers on his right hand as he began to look at the rock near the stream and asked Trypano, "Hey are you able to check if the rock has anything weird in it?"
As they proceeded out into the enormous cavern Trypano's eyes were drawn to the enigmatic crystals formed within the walls. She drew from the material that comprised it in order to get a better understanding of it's composition. Ismette was overheard discussing the nature of the river's formation.
"It is quite possible that a mage dwelt in this location, be it recently or long ago. I'm guessing it's had more recent guests given the tracks."
She then cast a glance over to Desmond past the corner of her eye.
"Already on it."
The group's studies revealed a number of things:
Firstly, that the sulfur was coming from upstream and that it seemed to be warmer in that direction. There was no radiation aside from the heat one might expect, though the source itself was still too far to sense.
Secondly, that the composition of the stone was natural in essence but had been altered. It was effectively concrete. There were a very few minerals, as well, that seemed entirely alien to this cave, as if they had been brought here from some distant place.
Finally, the recency of the tracks was confirmed by Ismette as she took a swab with her fingertip and examined it. "The different layers of soil are deposited fairly uniformly, except for floods. This has been disturbed recently," she confirmed, "and often."
Her keen eyes peered into the dark reaches in both directions and then she started, scrambling backwards. "There!" she hissed, pointing downstream, in the opposite direction of the source of the sulfur. "I saw a light!" Her chest heaved with anxiety. "A red one," she continued, "maybe two. Small, and just a flicker, but Vyshta damn me if I didn't see it!" Instinctually, she reached out with her senses, but whatever had made that light either gave off precious little energy or, more likely, was too far away to sense. That did mean, however, that the river and its narrow banks in that direction were a fairly straight shot, much in contrast to the way upstream, which looked narrow, winding, and fast, with a waterfall and rapids.
This was such a fascinating discovery to Trypano. Not only was this an artificially designed structure but it contained elements she had never seen before. She absorbed as much of the info regarding the natural features of these elements as she could while the others spoke up, pointing out details regarding the river itself. Also, it seemed, they were not alone.
"While sulfur can sometimes emanate from natural pockets it is also produced from organic sources. If something is still living in this location I would not be surprised if prolonged stay would result in such buildup."
Ingrid was relieved to know their was no radiation here but was much more concerned about the small red light that Ismette claimed to see. Ingrid couldn't catch it herself but she didn't doubt Ismette. Ingrid says "it was most likely eyes if she were to take a guess. Sulfur burns blue in most cases so It could be a creature and you caught its reflection. Either way, absorb some of the kinetic energy of the water and ready yourself because that is the direction we are going"
As Ismette hissed out what she saw, Desmond quickly flicked himself to the direction, bringing up his long gun, which he had retrieved after the ship battle. He aimed down there for a moment as he said, "Alright, guess we were given a direction".
Desmond looked on for a moment longer as he used arcane magic to magnify his sight in hopes to maybe see something, Ismette saw a small flash of red light, that meant one of 2 things, someone is trying to light fire, or someone has some strange looking eyes. He looked down the dark area as he continued, "I guess with sulfer coming from there, they might have been trying to light a fire like a fool, or as Ingrid said-" Desmond stands up and puts his long gun onto his back as he continued, "Guess someone has some magical looking eyes".
Desmond walked a bit forward before he said, "Guess we got some investigation to do, I'll take lead here", as he prepared to walk forward leading this time, as he was comfortable with much more precarious walkways.
Ismette swallowed and took a couple of steps back. "Oh Bringers," she squeaked. "Why are we going towards the ...thing, whatever it is? This is the part where the smart people - those who don't die - decide to leave!"
Her foot splashed into a small pool, disturbing an Ohm that had been resting there, and it made her flinch even more. The eyeless salamander skittered away with a splash and things went quiet again. Sulfur one way, red light thing the other way. Why are these people so hellbent on death!?
"Those are eyes," crowed Benny, with the confidence and certainty of a boy going to shoot rabbits with his father's rifle. "And I wanna see what they're attached to." He shot a glance at Ismette over his shoulder. "Stay in the middle of the pack if you're so scared. I'm going up to the front with this guy." He jerked a thumb at Desmond and stalked up right behind him.
With the matter seemingly decided, the five youths pressed forward, Desmond taking point, Benny right behind him, Trypano, Ismette, and then Ingrid guarding their rear. The water was dark and frigid and the entire place had a weird smell. Aside from the wet crunch of their footsteps and the barely-audible flow of the stream came the sound of dripping water as they went.
Then, just as they had reached where Ismette estimate the red light had been, they heard it: Something moving, and not a small something either. It was... in front of them, behind them, above them! Benedetto shone a light up and the cavern had opened up again, impossibly tall. He couldn't even see the ceiling. Things hissed and slid, echoing in the enormous, near-empty interior of this place. Eyes stared back at them: red and reflective. Yet, when the group reached out with the Gift, hoping to sense anything, they found that they couldn't! There was no magic. They couldn't draw, couldn't sense, couldn't cast!
A strange feeling thrummed through their bodies and even their arcane lights winked out. Things crept nearer.
While always nice to have their suspicions validated it hardly prepared them for the issue at hand. Luckily they weren't in complete darkness as Trypano hadn't relinquished the lantern since the last experiment she made with it. As they approached the next cavern it seemed they had stumbled upon this grizzly host of theirs, some mysterious entity with eyes that reflected light with red menace.
What pulled itself upon her was a choking sensation. She was cut off from her senses, from her essence. The very energy inside her just... Dropped, lost to her due to circumstances outside her current understanding. The beast must have been connected to this, most likely anyway, but how?
"I suggest we step back into the narrow entrance and set up a firing line. Draw the beast into the cavern hall and shoot it in a place it cannot dodge within."
She was already backing up and quickly too, fully expecting the rest of them to follow suit.
Ingrid knew that the cave was either going to open again given the amount of sulfur their was or we would see a lava plume of some sort and know would know where the sulfur is coming from. Instead the smell got stronger and they were suddenly surrounded by creatureas and something negated their magic.
Ingrid grabbed Ismette's hand and turned on her heels saying this way. She readied herself to face the creatures with her sword, unknowing if Ismette could raise a hand against any life. Being rear she remembered the path very well as was her job.
From everywhere and nowhere echoed a chittering, hissing noise, rising and falling in chorus. "B E A S S S S T" it almost seemed to say.
Desmond quietly and deftly moved across the narrow walkways, he watched himself as he heard Benedetto was pulling up behind him. Desmond didn't show his emotions he held them in, he couldn't get back at him, not yet.
As they made it to where they would find the eyes, a voice rang through his head, calling out in a voice he could not really make out saying, look alive.
Desmond brought up his gun fast, fast enough to almost look as if he was a blur.
Desmond felt something, like a hum, a burning in the center of his back, it was telling him to fight, run, hide, death seemed to have surrounded them. As he reached out to sense what is surrounding them, he felt nothing, as he noticed when he shifted his foot, he couldn't 'feel' it. His magic wasn't there.
He face hardened as he began to think, Trypano tried to get them to run, but they might be trapped, so Desmond though, it might be best to try. They might get to see it, and if they can, they get to kill it.
Desmond stood up and put his back to Benedetto as he said out loud, "Get close! we can't leave a hole for it to take advanatge of, Ismette keep watch high, Benedetto watch low, Trypano and Ingrid watch to either side and infront as we try to move. I'll keep watch behind"
Desmond began pushing against Benedetto telling him to move, he was ready to fire the moment he say this beast try and lash out.
It was a brave defence. It was a good plan, but it was uncoordinated. In any event, it wouldn't not have been enough. Grouping together made them a single target and the hissing walls closed in on them. The eyes multiplied. The air took on an even more potent smell and Desmond swung at one enemy with his rifle butt. Ismette punched, Benedetto kicked, and Ingrid slashed with her sword.
The eyes drew back. The air grew fouler. A faint feeling came over the group. It was... hard to breathe. There were few points for visual reference, but things were growing hazy!
Feeling himself fading, Desmond opened fire. Muzzle flashes illuminated his immediate surroundings for a split second and he and any others who looked that way would've peered through a thick haze. It was hard to make out anything in detail except what looked, for a moment, like massive tentacles or coils.
They were surrounded and from the little she saw from Desmond's gun, they couldn't fight it. Only way to get out would be the water. It is risky but it the best option.
Ingrid grabs Ismette and hops into the water. All she said was hold your breath.
The moment the gun flashed, he saw what they were fighting and knew this was no fight they can win. They were losing time, breathing was not an option anymore as they were being gassed, so every movement took that away. As Desmond looked to the bank he silently nodded to himself, as he tossed his gun off into the bank and turned to Benedetto. He picked him up like a child and threw him in, as Desmond looked to Trypano and yelled to her, "GO!" He flicked over and brought up his pistol as he loaded a phosphorous shot with a Ahn-Shune's Light shot, knowing the moment they make contact with the intended target, they should spark and ignite with the mixtures of chemicals, hopefully starting a fire in to cause it pain and keep it at bay for long enough for them to make a full escape.
Once he fired that shot he will attempt to hop into the bank as well.
Ismette, grabbed and... womanhandled, blinks furiously. Her larger lung capacity makes her far more susceptible to this sort of attack, but paradoxically far better able to resist it if she holds her breath. Her eyes are better adapted to seeing in the dark and she was able to get a decent glance at what was attacking them. It was -
She hits the water and is forced to continue holding her breath.
Well they just rolled the holy trio of terrible coincidences. Not only had they somehow lost access to magic but they were surrounded AND assaulted with some sort of anesthetizing gas. Fan-tastic.
Not even sparing enough time for Desmond to tell her to go Trypano takes a quick breath away from the gas cloud and through her sleeve, holding it as she then dives into the waters. She might not have long to fight if the creatures come into the waters with her but she'd still have longer than she'd have had still breathing on land.
Time to see what came with the water.
They raged, then, against the dying of the light but, in their desperation, failed to heed that the river's current was carrying them towards the greatest bulk of their mysterious enemy.
Less able to see or move, the darkness claimed them one by one. Last to go were Benedetto, fighting for every last moment, raging at how his strength hadn't been enough, at how there was something out there yet much greater than he, and Trypano. She had, at all junctures, taken the route more logical, but perhaps this entire endeavour had been a grave error in judgement. Yet, as she went under, she saw something that inverted her expectations.
They all came back at the same time and the first thing that they felt was the heat of a warm room and the lack of any lingering effects. Yet, there was no crackle of a fire, and no nice, woody scent. When they opened their eyes, they found themselves in a surprisingly bright and almost entirely featureless room. The walls were made of a light grayish substance that they could not recognize and there was a sort of lamp on the ceiling that emitted a soft white light.
When they tried to reach out with magic, however, they still found its familiar touch absent. "Oh, hello!" said a voice in accented Avincian, seeming to come from a small mesh cover on the ceiling. Behind it came a whole chorus of hellos. The voice sounded male and relatively young, but there was a strange quality about it, an alien one. "We're very sorry for the way you were brought here, truly."
"Sorry," another voice echoed.
"Truly."
"Very sorry."
"Yes, so sorry."
"There was... some concern that you might be another group of humans entirely."
"And yasoi," reminded a background voice.
"yasoi," echoed another.
"humans and yasoi."
"Yes, some concern about your group."
"About your group. Another one."
"Yes, some concern you might be another one."
"Do you have any questions?" asked the first voice, and the usual chorus followed. "Would you like any... food?"
Desmond raged, he shot fire, he spewed smoke, he lept into the water that was cold, he tried to stay awake against it all, yet it could not be.
When he awoke he shot to his feet as he grabbed for his gun, and nothing, he reached for his sidearm, nothing, he even tapped where his bullets would be, nothing. Desmond felt naked, he had none of his weapons, his magic was gone, and he did not know where he was.
Desmond began to hear the voices, they sounded so strange, as when they talked Desmond was patient. He heard what they said as when they asked them if they had questions, Desmond almost barked out, "Yeah where are we?"
Ingrid awoke with the others in a weird gray room. The room was warm but the lack of detail made it hard feel alien to her. She would normally feel trapped but everything just felt muted at the moment. The odd voice caught her attention but she didn't say anything. She looked to see if Ismette and felt a small joy that she was still alive.
Trypano instinctively fought for breath upon reawakening, even despite not experiencing the natural side effects of drowning. It was simply natural given how starved for oxygen she remembered her lungs being. As well she recalled that face, the one who fished her from the waters. It appears she wasn't the only one as she rose to sitting, looking about to see her comrades also around and, for the most part, unharmed.
Still it felt like an entire piece of her being was shorn from her. There was nothing beyond the five base senses she used to feel the world through. It felt like being blind in some senses. This feeling of disembodiment did not abate with the strange nature of the voices which addressed them.
"I have a question: What do you mean by 'Another one'? Who else are you speaking of?"
Ismette came to, sitting up and rubbing her head. She turned to Ingrid to check on her and breathed a sigh of relief. In fact, everybody seemed alive and.... where the hell were they!? Then, Desmond was on his feet and demanding an answer.
"An excellent quessstion!" said a voice from a strange mesh on the ceiling.
"Excellent," repeated another.
"Excellent quessstion."
There was a drawn-out pause.
"You're in a safe house. You're sssafe."
"Sssafe," echoed one.
"In a safe house," clarified another.
"Deep underground, with us, human: the sssirahi!"
"Sssirahi," added a voice.
"Deep underground."
"With usss."
Trypano, too, was awake, chest heaving before rationality overtook instinct. "I have a question," she asked, "What do you mean by 'Another one'? Who else are you speaking of?"
"The cave people," came the voice, with its usual chorus of agreement, almost as if these people shared thoughts or shared a need to be affirmed by each other. "The ones who blocked our observations."
"Blocked them."
"Those ones."
"Blocked our observations."
"The ones that you fought and beat," said the voice that the others seemed to - generally - take direction from. "We thought it might be a holdout, or some escaping."
"We thought!"
"A holdout or escaping."
"They found one of us: the sirrahi."
"Sirrahi!"
"Found one."
"They... harmed her." There was no chorus this time, and the voice had a different, harder tone.
Before more could be divulged, Benedetto happened. He was quick to his feet like Desmond. "Why should we trust you!?" he snarled. "Show your faces!"
"We're very sorry!" said one of the voices.
"Very!" confirmed another.
"You will be compensated."
There was a strange pause and not even background noise could be heard from the mesh. Then, sounds of bickering in some other language. "Our faces," said someone on the other side.
"Yes, faces," added a second.
"Our faces."
"But of course we can show you those!"
"Yes, of course!"
"We can show you."
For a moment, a slot in the wall opened and a head peered out. It looked like this:
"Hi there, new friend! Here's my face." It was one of the voices that they recognized from the mesh.
"Her face!" confirmed another.
"There is it is."
"Her face."
"Face, yup." They were coming from beyond the wall, faintly.
"Right there!"
"I am wearing what I believe you yasoi and humans call 'hair' in an attempt to relate to your primitive species better. Is it working?"
"Yes, is it working?"
"Is it?"
"Yes, hair."
"Mhm, hair."
"Yasoi and humans."
"Yes, tell us, primitive ones: is it working?"
"The hair, that is."
"Yes, the hair!"
Desmond listened as they answered, they were in a 'safe' house, underground. "Of fucking course", left his mouth immediately. As they continued they answered that Trypano's question and then Benedetto shot up and barked out and snarled similar to Desmond trying to get to know why they should be trusted and their face.
As finally they showed their face, Desmond looked on and saw her and heard them speak. They were alien, trully, Desmond looked on and was just dumb founded, he just looked on and said, "Uh...yeah, I guess it does make you seem more relatable, I guess".
Desmond was confused. They found something so strange he could not believe what he is seeing. Yet here he is, talking to a reptilian person, what a life.
At Desmond's response, the sirrahi woman smiled in a most unnerving way and let out a little squeal.
"By Ipte, I am so happy!"
"So happy!"
"by Ipte!"
"Happy!"
"Very."
"Nice to meat you, friend!"
"Meat you"
"Friend."
"Friend."
"Very nice."
And Desmond was disturbed upon her opening her mouth like a snake. As Desmond said to them just standing there still dumb founded, "Yep nice to meet you as well, I guess"
Ingrid tried to swallow nothing, a habit when she was nervous. Since they seem excited to talk, she decided to ask them for food. "Um, Sorry to be a bother but do you think I can have something to eat or drink?"
"Five, record this in your observations, immediately!" she chirped.
"Immediately," echoed another.
"Record this,"
"In your observations."
A section of the wall slid away, shuddering and clunking. It was simply a sliding door, for all that it appeared to be technologically marvellous. The.... being that came... slithering out looked very much like a vaguely human or yasoi upper body on a snakelike lower body. She leaned forward as she moved, straightening only when 'standing' still. "Human, you do not seem comfortable," she said, slithering right up to Desmond and leaning until they were almost nose to nose. She tilted her head to one side and blinked. "Was this meeting perhaps too abrupt? Was our very rude first encounter too traumatic?" She twiddled her fingers nervously and Desmond could see that they sported wicked claws that had been purposely filed down. "We are very sorry," she said, glancing behind herself at the doorway as if for reassurance, where a handful of other sirrahi peered uncertainly out. A handful echoed her and she seemed more at ease. "We...um, excuse my rudeness." Colour rose to her pale cheeks. "Many of my people find you rather... terrifying." Her voice was nearly a whisper.
Desmond saw a part of the wall slide. He was astonished, such a marvel without the use of magic must take great skill and engineering that he wouldn't even dream of seeing. Yet what came out just frankly seem to be what he expected. Half snake half man.
She rode up near him as Desmond stood his ground, yet she seemed to get closer as she got up in his personal space and then literally only centimeters away. As she seemed to exhibit signs of uncomfortable and nervousness as she spoke to him, yet Desmond listened to her as she spoke.
As once she finished speaking Desmond said in a calm voice that hid is true feelings, "Oh, why would they find me terrifying?"
Not making mention of the literal fear factor this could cause from such closeness with an other worldly being.
"He he he," Nine giggled. "I believe that thisss is human humour."
"Human," echoed another sirrahi.
"humour," said a third.
They kept going on. Perhaps the similarity of the words 'human' and 'humour' amused them.
Her face returned to normal. "Humans are just ssso..." she tilted her head pensively, as if searching for a word, "openly and freely violent, and you use magic ssso, dangerously." She slithered back a foot or two and her fingers started twiddling anxiously again. "Did you not arrive here with multiple of your killing devices?" She blinked again with her big red eyes, waiting for Desmond's answer.
Desmond heard her giggle and he chuckled himself, her voice seemed human-like, yet she seemed to be odd. Maybe they found the similarities of Human and humor to be witty. Yet as Nine spoke she made a point to speak of their use of violence.
As she spoke of the use of the liberal use of violence humans employ, and even himself having multiple himself, he chuckled nervously as he said, "Yeah I did come here with my weapons, and we can use magic in violent manners. Yet it seems here we are unable to, can I ask how that is?"
Desmond began to make an act to maybe get them to reveal some secrets, as he acted uncomfortable and nervous as he shifted his hand up to his belt and seemed to start tapping it as he continued, "I'm wondering because with magic I can sense things, yet right now because I don't have it, it feels as if I'm missing something. Like things are duller or like even missing the ability to smell or taste"
"I am sssorry that you feel thisss way, human." Nine pursed her lips, and it was clearly an awkward gesture for her. "But you did bring a violence stick..."
"Sssorry!"
"feel thisss way."
"Violence ssstick." It was the final statement that caught on. The handful of other sirrahi who had emerged from the sliding door 'stood' clumped together, bobbing up and down and repeating it.
"If we trussst you more, then perhaps this is sssomething we can discusss." She smiled, businesslike, and clasped her hands. "Besssides, I do not even know your name." Nine blinked. "If you forget sssuch basic things, you are not a very good human, are you?"
Desmond almost laughed as Nine spoke, 'violence stick', what a way to speak of a gun. Desmond thought they might have never seen one, which would be strange yet intriguing. As she spoke he started hearing her mannerisms as he noticed the more snake-like tendencies. When they seemed to almost speak with extra s's, like they were slithering with their tongue.
It was not often one comes face to face with a species similar yet so different from oneself. While her colleagues were of course discombobulated and perhaps a fair amount vexed, Trypano was astounded. While their control over her magical capacity was disturbing to some degree their measure of understanding stood well and far above her own, especially regarding whatever all...This was.
"I see. How did these 'Cave People' block your observations per say? Which method of observation had you been using that was being blocked?"
She wasn't going to squander the opportunity to know more unlike her cretinous colleagues. For what little help they had been it seemed they poorly grasped the magnitude of this discovery. As for their attempts to better put her own kind to ease it felt almost rather similar to herself. She always felt like she was wearing this form just to appeal to the society within which she dwelt. She dressed like them and adhered to their standards but in thought they were of two species almost entirely. Even the yasoi, so utterly primitive in scope. This, however, was a discovery of something major. Something that perchance understood magic better than they. That was something she could not let slip through her fingers.
Their host's tongue flicked in and out of her mouth annoyedly a couple of times. "Thisss was our cavern. It has been since we lived on this island, though we do not anymore. We use it to come and go and to set up our devicesss."
"Come and go," said another sirrahi.
"Devices," echoed one more.
"It is important that humans and yasoi and.... the othersss develop properly."
Two other sirrahi, in the doorway, nodded vigorously, bobbing up and down in a sort of rhythm as they did so.
"Develop properly," one mumbled.
"Important," confirmed the other.
"These.... foolish onesss blocked our exit, occupied our cavern and, when we tried to contact them, they shot at us!"
"Shot at usss!"
"They shot!" The voices sounded a bit angry. There were a few hisses.
"They thought they were hunting monsters!" said the sirrahi woman. "Imagine that!" She shook her head, the gesture oddly human or yasoilike.
"Monsters-ss-ss," laughed another.
"They hurt Seven," she said, shoulders slumping, "very badly." Her face changed for a moment and she seemed threatening again. "We do not like it when people hurt our brothers and sisssters." Once again, there was no echo, merely more of those bobbing nods.
Ingrid just watched and listened. It was creepy but they were answering questions at least. They were further underground and were in a safe room. Just a lot was happening and she was trying to adjust. Then a fucking snake person. Why not. And apparently they were wearing hair to be more primitive. Ingrid was not even convinced she was awake. Maybe this was just her hallucinating before she dies. Who knows.
"Ah, yessss! Human." Their host paused as she turned and strode up to Ingrid and began inspecting her. "You are a human, correct? How wonderfully, abnormally tall you are for a female of your species!"
"Wonderful," echoed another sirrahi.
"Abnormal," chirped a third, oblivious.
"Nine," said the first voice that they had heard from the speaker upon arrival, "You are forgetting human cussstom."
"Forgetting," scolded a second.
"Human custom," added a third.
"Ah, yesss!" squeaked the sirrahi, who had now slithered up in front of Ingrid. "Ssso sorry! I've been ssso rude! Introductions are cussstomary, I believe?" She blinked and smiled, close-lipped this time, perhaps catching on that her full smile was unnerving to the primitives. "I am Dissska Nine Sileen!" She blinked and furrowed her brow before remembering to offer her hand. "You can jussst call me Nine, though."
She smiled a bit more broadly. "As for sssome food, we have that in abundance." She tilted her head inquisitively. "I believe by your size, complexion, and the inflection of your words that you are Eskandish, correct?"
"Eskandish."
"By your size."
"By complexion."
"We can prepare a delicacy of your homeland!" Nine squealed, evidently excited. She paused and touched a finger to her lips. "We may do a horrible job, though."
Ingrid was at visibly hesitant to them coming so close but it seems that is how they are. She took a breath out and tried to accept their kindness. " Yeah I'm human. I've never met anyone like you. You're a Sirrahi, right?" Ingrid listened to them try to correct their rudeness and she couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "No no, It's fine to call me abnormal. I'm the tallest girl in my family by maybe a foot. It's nice to meet you Nine, I'm Ingrid Penderson and you can call me Ingrid," Ingrid smiled and shook her hand. Ingrid found it interesting that they could just tell she was Eskandish but she does look like a pretty stereotypical Eskandish girl minus the height. Ingrid smiled to reassure them, "I'm sure how ever it turns out it will be delicious. Thank you for even cooking for me, I am honored"
"I am... consssidered rather abnormal too, Ingrid." Nine swirled around Ingrid and, for a moment, reached up to play with the false 'hair' she was wearing, as if amused by its presence. "We abnormal girls should ssstick together."
"Stick together."
"Abnormal."
"Girls should."
Then, the voice from the speaker. "She isn't lying about that," it said dryly.
"Not lying."
"She isn't."
"About that."
"Shut up, One," hissed Nine, taking Ingrid by the hand. "I just love that you are ssso tall!" she squealed, unleashing one of those big snakey smiles by accident. She quickly closed her mouth. "I will feed you well, human. I will not burn the food. You humans like your food cooked, I know, even barbariansss."
Nine tilted her head to one side as seemed to be a curiosity tic of hers. "Why do ssso many other humans call Eskandish 'barbarians'?"
"Yesss!" added one of the sirrahi in the doorway enthusiastically.
"Why?" another practically demanded.
"Barbarians," said a few more.
"So many humans!" It seemed to be of considerable interest. Nine made a sympathetic face, perhaps realizing that it was appropriate and that this may be a sensitive topic. "You... do not ssseem so very different from others to me..." she trailed off.
Ingrid felt a more personal connection when Nine admitted she was considered abnormal as well. Ingrid never disliked her height but it has bothered her on numerous occasions how people treated her. She wasn't a freak and neither was Nine in Ingrid's opinion. Ingrid smiled at her like a new friend, "Us girls should stick together." Ingrid kept her arms a bit more loose in case any of the other girls or guys wanted to slither. They seem pretty physical.
Ingrid blushed a little at Nine after complimenting her height so genuinely, "Oh thank you Nine. It feels nice to be complimented on it. I have to say though, your hair is done very nicely. Gorgeous even. I tend to have issues with mine after it gets wet..." Ingrid finally noticed how her own hair was messy and started to fix it. When Ingrid saw Nine shut her mouth when she smiled, she wanted to say it was alright but she is obviously trying to be considerate to our group. Maybe I'll get a chance to tell her personally that I don't mind.
"Yesss, my hair," said Nine, flicking it over her shoulder. "It is gloriousss."
"Glorious!" echoed others.
"My hair," said some.
Ingrid may have noticed that some of the sirrahi, particularly the women, had repeated after her. "Girls," they said, "stick together," said others. "Stick."
"I like you," decided Nine, appearing over Ingrid's shoulder and resting her chin on it very forwardly.
"Like you," said some others.
"I do," added one.
As the Eskandishwoman started to mess with her hair, the sirrahi seemed to take that as an invitation to get involved in the process. She helped Ingrid comb some of the knots out, her long, thin fingers extremely dexterous if not as gentle as human equivalents.
When they acquired about the barbarian thing Ingrid tried to explain it quickly. "Barbarians? Oh, that has to do with our older history. It is true that long ago my people pillaged and were seen by northerners as simple barbarians. Now it is more of an insult. To some extent though, our leader used it to his advantage to drop their guard around him believing him to be simple. Were just normal everyday humans, maybe a bit taller."
At Ingrid's explanation of her ancestors and the term 'barbarian's' current use as an insult, Nine nodded supportively. "It is always good to use cruel people's assssumptions againssst them. They will learn not to do it."
Ismet's head settled as the circumstances of their rescue came to light around her. She bit her bottom and arched her eyebrows in bewilderment as she started to understand what was going on. These snake people, Sirrahi, had rescued them and brought them here. Wherever here was.
There was a lot of information here and they seemed so open. Naturally or falsely? They knew of Yasoi and humans but as far as she could recall, nobody ever cited claims of what the Sirrahi were. Why hide and more importantly, why is it important that humans, yasoi, and... others (that had so many implications it was making her head ache) 'develop properly'?
One question at a time and one that would ease her concern about this. They were in captivity. They didn't mention much about them being able to leave.
She lifted her shoulders, shrugging as she finally chimed in. "Why go through the trouble? What are humans and yasoi to you, Sirrahi?"
"Oh hello, new friend!" Nine slithered over, shooting a dirty look at the others in the doorway, perhaps because they were making her do all of the work of interacting with the scary humans and yasoi. "We were worried we'd broken you by accident," she said.
"Worried," a few others chorused.
"By accident," they assured her.
"Sssince you work a little differently from humans."
"Differently."
"Work that way."
"We are very sssorry," she repeated for the umpteenth time, and perhaps it was a cultural quirk of these odd people.
"Very!" echoed others. "Sorry," said some more.
"You are our purpossse," said Nine. "The all-knower's purpose, and we carry out the all-knower's commands." She smirked at Ismette's visible confusion. "Hehe, trusssst me, we have just as many questions for you. Now, would you like sssomething to eat?"
As Trypano listened to their responses, it yielded a great number of answers and yet an even greater number of questions. It seemed for how much advancement these creatures held these firearms of theirs still posed them risk. Ironic, given what plethora of means one with magic could utilize to neutralize the threat of such clumsy weapons.
"I do suppose humans have a terrible habit of lashing out at things they don't understand." And exploiting the things they do She kept the last words to herself, simply shaking her head at the pitiful behavior of the species she's had to call her own.
"It was quite fascinating this air-born sedative you employed against us. Further still your ability to quell our mana's core functions was ultimately what left us vulnerable to such method. Remarkable, truly." While she nodded on this point it seemed Ingrid had taken them up on the offer of food and drink. It seemed she was introducing herself to these strange new hosts of theirs. She supposed this would provide a valuable in for her.
"How about this: Since you're keen to learn more about us how about we share information on ourselves in exchange for some in regards to our kind hosts here? My name is Trypano and I would be happy to help represent the better examples of our species to make up for our worse population's behavior."
"We have noticcced this bad habit of yours," Nine said glumly, and her body seemed to tighten up. "We have noticed it very much."
"Very much," echoed the others.
"Noticed it," they agreed, and she shot a concerned look back at them.
"My... sssister noticed it," she said weakly.
The others did something with their fingers, then, making some kind of gesture simultaneously. "But we are not here to talk about Ssseven," amended Nine, straightening and smiling. "Or the many methods we have for preventing magic and violence."
"Magic," said a few.
"Violence," said others in refrain, bobbing up and down, the two words coming together before they faded out. "At leassst not yet," Nine clarified. "Not yet, Trypano." She flashed another smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I think we would love to know more about what constitutesss a 'better example.'" Glancing over her shoulder at one of the walls, she was affirmed by the others and by the voice of One though the mesh on the ceiling. "We would like to know very much what the criteria are," he remarked.
"Does it, perhapsss, have something to do with being very tall?" Nine circled her momentarily. "You are even taller than Ingrid. Remarkable for your ssspecies."
"But I get ahead of myssself," said Nine. "How rude!"
"Ahead of myself," someone echoed. "Rude," scolded a few others.
"For now," she continued.
"For now."
"Can we offer you sssome food? A drink?" Nine smirked mischievously and leaned in. "I promissse there are no sedatives in this one."
Desmond relized he had never gave his names as he nervously said, "Ah, yes my name, sorry. my name is Desmond, uhm-oh, Desmond Catulus. I'd um, like to maybe eat with the others." As he gestured to the others by pointing with his left-hand crossing over his body and pointing around his shoulder to the group as he looked and continued to speak, "It's been a long night and some food would be nice, I guess".
"Desmond," Nine said with a nod. "Desmond," a few others singsonged. She leaned in conspiratorially, voice dropping. "I will confess, Desmond, to sssimply referrringg to you as 'Violence Ssstick' in my head up to now." She pulled back, grinning like a magpie, and her too-wide mouth started to come apart in that way that so unnerved him until she tamped down on it.
At the second part of his statement, however, the sirrahi clapped her hands together, shaved-down claws clicking a bit against each other. "You are Enthish!" she chirped, clearly pleased with herself by this deduction, "A land famous for its bad food!"
"Bad food," echoed others. "Famous," they confirmed.
Nine smiled and nodded eagerly. "I shall cook awful food ssso you feel right at home." The end of her tail flicked back and forth. "I will be back!"
"Back," said more sirrahi.
"She will be!"
Desmond would have been unnerved with everything going on. Yet if he was able to control his laughter at this point, it explains perfectly what he remembers of Enth, Terrible food and terrible tempers. As she was about to leave he said, "Yeah that's Enth, bad food and violence sticks. How could you tell?"
Nine twists and flicks some hair over a shoulder, grinning. "Why... you are one of the three pictures that we have for 'Enth' in our encyclopedia of human nations." She blushed for a moment. "Well, a younger version of you."
Desmond looked confused as he looked to everyone else as he shrugged and said, "Dang, guess I'm famous?"
Nine merely shrugged and Desmond may have noticed that a few of the sirrahi echoed him. "Famousss," they said, "dang."
"Your face has been... much discusssed among our people," she said cryptically, and the usual refrain followed her.
Ingrid heard this and was very curious about the photo they were talking about. One of a younger Desmond. Ingrid looked towards Desmond while addressing Nine "Picture you say, maybe I can see it too?" Ingrid is assuming they have a younger, cuter picture of him and Ingrid really wants to see it
There was a further echoed chorus and then a promise to find an encyclopedia to bring to dinner for Ingrid and Desmond's benefit.
Trypano notices that they were still keeping some cards to their scaley chests. Understandable given their history and what was probably the death of her sibling Seven, older sibling if she were to guess by order of precedence. Trypano moved some of her long red hair aside in response as the reptile remarked on what qualifies a better example.
"I suppose for the purposes of cultural exchange a proclivity towards diplomatic relation building would be one such quality."
With her arms modestly crossed over her clothing which she definitely assumed had been taken from her at some point during her unconscious period given they were not presently wet nor caked in sea-salt nor mud like they were prior.
"For the time being lets discuss topics more to your pleasing over whatever you have prepared for us as far as nutrient intake is concerned. I certainly have no worry about further sedation as it would benefit neither of us at this current juncture. I'd be happy to accept your offer."
She offered out a hand for a handshake to Nine, simply holding it out and patiently awaiting her response.
"A handshake, a cultural greeting of ours which derives it's origins from humans who would clasp one another's arms to prevent those they spoke with from drawing sharp implements with which to harm one another using their dominant hand. Seems symbolically appropriate, given our circumstances."
"Interesssting," Nine replied. "That would ssseem to go against what the humans we have observed appear to value."
The usual chorus followed, with the words 'interesting' and 'against' seeming to take precedence. The sirrahi was about to leave following their exchange about 'nutrient intake', and a couple of the reptiles seemed to chorus the words as well. But as she was about to go and begin cooking, she instead shouted another three numbers: "Twelve, four, ten!"
Those numbers bounced back at her in the voices of others.
"Get us started ssso they don't have to wait too long."
"Wait too long."
"Get us ssstarted."
She turned back to Trypano and shook her hand eagerly, careful not to bite into the human's tender skin with her filed down claws. She smiled her full smile, gauging that this one would not react with fear. "I have learned something about the thing you call 'handshake' today." She smirked. "That makesss it all that much better. I shall return shortly." She released the human's hand and hurried off.
The sirrahi disappeared and the six humans and yasoi were left to their own devices in the strange grey room with walls made of a very unfamiliar material. Nine assured then that she would be back in twenty standard human minutes. Presently, the floor opened up, two doors sliding open and a knee-height table emerging from the floor. cushions fell from apertures in the ceiling and, then, the strangest thing of all happened: from the mesh in the ceiling came music such as they had never heard before. It was apparently, "the newest, hottest music, from the hottest artists, all day, every day. 105.7 VNM FM."
"All day."
"VNM FM"
"Every day."
"Newest, hottest."
Ingrid was startled by the moving room once more but she was getting use to it. The music played and she never described music as hot. It was more free spirited and it consisted of instruments she had never heard. All in all she started nodding her head to the music. Ingrid looked towards the others, smiling as she kept vibing to the beat, "The music is pretty nice right?" Ingrid was letting go and going with the flow at the moment.
Desmond watched as Nine slithered away and left them and felt as if this was going to be a long 20 minutes. Well, until tables and cushions came out and music began to play. At first he was confused as the voice from the mesh seemed to be different than from the others, as it spoke about certain things before music came on.
As the music played, Desmond found it lacking as he sat down and leaned on the table as he decided to just bear with it as he said. "Meh it's alright, I guess". As unbeknownst to him, his foot underneath the table began to sway.
Watching as the Sirrahi woman departed, Trypano arms were folded and she was left to the company of her thoughts. She wasn't aware yet just how much more this place held but it's secrets were many. When the table rose up from the aperture in the floor and the voices started speaking out of the meshes on the ceiling she found herself subject to more elements of their alien culture.
She calmly sat down on one of the cushions and took to deep thought as music started to emanate from the meshes above.
"Fascinating. Perhaps their fascination with sound modification ties in to both their culture and possibly more."
Ingrid took a seat next to Trypano. Ingrid listened to her quandary on what music means to them and just said, "Maybe they like music as much as us. If we could have it as easily as this, don't you think we would be playing it as well"
She glanced over to Ingrid as she weighed in on the matter. "What's more is how they are producing it. All of this would be duplicable with mana using kinetic arts. They seem to have found ways around the use of mana to store and convert their energy however."
While she imagined this revelation should hold some gravity she had her doubts about how well these colleagues of hers could truly grasp the importance of this factor.
Desmond listened as Ingrid and Trypano spoke, they seemed to be fascinated with the way music was being played. Desmond weighed in as well as he said, "Well, if they are producing it, it could be similar to how kineticist do it, but through mechanical means. Vibrating and controlling the flow of the air to produce sounds. Maybe some bag is used and can produce high and low vibrations to change pitch, similar to how instruments can strum to vibrate the air, or how you con constrict and loosen your own throat to change the sounds."
Desmond thought on the energy as he said, "It could be a form of energy like magnetic energy, mages will often store the energy found from magnetism within them. So what it to say you can't find a way through metals to seal it and store the energy for later? Using other forms of materials to let the energy out slowly for you to siphon"
Ingrid merely shrugged at Trypano, " It could be a whole host of things. We can assume something is vibrating to make the sound. And if it is one thing making the sound it would have to be moving very quickly. But whatever, I'm going to let things sink in and ponder later."
The group passed their time in idle speculation and exchange, and the music changed a handful of times, each with a voice speaking through the mesh to introduce it. At one point, Benedetto tried speaking to the voice, but it ignored him entirely and kept on extolling the virtues of the tunes to come as if it did not even hear him. 'Well fuck me sideways," he muttered. "I don't even think there's a real person on the other end."
Then, as if out of nowhere, they heard a familiar voice. It was One's. "Sssome very good observations," he allowed. "Anyhow, my sissster is coming with your food. She and I shall join you." There was a pause as other sirrahi echoed his words in that haphazard way of theirs in the background. "Pretend that you like it. Even if it'sss awful," One added quickly and guiltily. A couple of others echoed him in whisper, and others snickered in their snakey voices.
Desmond chuckled slightly as One spoke about his sister's cooking. Desmond has eaten worst, so playing like the food is good and reminds him of home. Desmond waited, he was curious still of the music, almost too quickly did he turn from someone who disliked the music to one who was humming to it.
As he looked over to the others he said, "Well let's see what's being brought in, Benny come on-". Demsond patted the cushion next to him as he continued, "Let's get ready to eat, it's been a long night"
Ingrid had to agree with the Sirrahi. Eskandish food while comforting for Ingrid was by all means bland and starchy, or very salty. It was of course better than Enth food. Maybe they will grab one of the more exquisite meals from her homeland. Maybe some good spice to it as well.
She wondered how the others might fair against the sometime surprising spice of Eskandish cuisine, I hope to see a lot of red faces, begging for relief. Ingrid just quietly smirked imagining it.
Sitting with her finger tips together, resting in an arch, Trypano watched one of their hosts enter and make mention of their foods approach. "Thank you for the warning." She responded, returning her red gaze to the remainder of her little team.
Then, the same door as before opened and Nine could be heard giving some others a tongue-lashing. "Will you ssstop being such ssscaredy-eggs? They are just squishy little humans and yasssoi. They won't hurt you."
"Won't hurt you," one repeated meekly.
"Scaredy-eggs," murmured another.
"Sssquishy little humans."
"But one had a violence ssstick," murmured a voice.
"Violence stick," the others echoed in a chorus, their silhouettes bobbing up and down.
Nine zipped through the door, then, leaning forward in that way she did when actually moving at a decent clip. She held a plate in each hand. "Hello friends!" She shot a look back at the other sirrahi who cowered in the doorway. "My brothers and sssisters are all scaredy-eggs." She placed these in front of Benedetto and Trypano, the latter containing a salad of leafy greens, with fish, nuts, and berries. "These are all sssuperfoods," she announced proudly.
"Sssuperfoods," singsonged the sirrahi in the doorframe.
"All of them," added one more.
"Very high in almost all nutrients that humans need."
"Very high."
"Humans need."
"Nuuuutrientsss."
"I'll be right back!" she chirped, zipping out the door and back in with surprising speed. "For you, Ingrid!" It was... Surströmming: most certainly an Eskandish dish, and with a whole assortment of garnish to choose from. For Ismette, she brought Rainbow Mushroom Jamb'ysp Cake. "Please don't tell me if it'sss awful," she teased. "Lie to protect my feelingsss." With a flick of faux-hair, she made for the door, but stopped as she reached it.
A small, pale sirrahi with thick-rimmed reading glasses and a stern face emerged. She slipped around him and grabbed a final dish, holding it high. With a flourish, she placed this in front of Desmond. It was... haggis, and a hunk of black pudding, with mushy peas as a dipping side. "A tasste of home!" Nine squealed. "Home," echoed One, seating himself at the head of the table. "Now, tell me, do you primitives engage in... prayer?" "Prayer," echoed Nine, absently.
"Primitives," said a sirrahi in the doorway.
One tilted his head to the side inquisitively. In front of him waited an enormous steamed ham. His sister, who they knew somewhat better, eyed a massive rack of ribs. They pulled out cute, matching little napkins with numbers that corresponded to their names, and tucked these into their collars, preparing to eat but willing to make time for prayer if they had to.
As the door opened up and food was to be brought, Nine seemed to call her siblings scaredy eggs. Desmond laughed and said, "You tell'em Nine"
As food was brought in, he saw the food looked good and regionally appropriate, and he was worried. As Nine came over and set down his plate, Desmond knew it to be true. Haggis and Black pudding with mushy peas.
Desmond looked to Nine and said with a smile, "Thank you, it reminds me of home already". As much smaller Sirrahi seemed to slither in and take a seat at the table, he asked if they engaged in prayer. Desmond said with quick response, "I do not".
One blinked. "Interesssting, and highly unusual." Nine seemed to be trying not to drool.
Ismette, meanwhile, bowed her head in a quick prayer to Oirase for providing for her even in this alien place.
Ingrid was... Surprised? Surströmming was indeed an Eskand product but did they just have this laying around?
Ingrid had already done a small prayer when the food arrived. She knows not everyone prays but Ingrid can remember the education she recieved for not doing it once in front of guest. Ingrid looked towards Nine and One and offered thanks for the food
Interesting Ingrid thought, as she ate it with the accoutrements. It had a strong smell and honestly she worried that instead of red she be seeing green on their faces. It is an acquired taste and and even more a harsh smell.
Ingrid turned to One and Nine, offering them some Surströmming as well. She would offer it to the others but believes she will be made fun of either way for eating it later
Trypano noticed that the Sirrahi certainly were industrious, bringing out such a prodigious amount of food in so little time. Then again, after everything else the bar for what would impress her was set fairly high.
Then approached was the topic of prayer. She had to fight off the urge to cringe as memories of many dinners flooded to mind. While she held certain beliefs her father was still something of a traditionalist in many senses. Both in public and amongst family she'd been co-opted into these things before. She cast a look of interest over to Desmond as she'd expected otherwise before returning her eyes to One.
"While it is customary for people under the umbrella of the Quentic faith to offer prayer unto the five I choose not to. I believe that for the same reason I do not offer prayer unto the nobility nor unto wizards of higher RAS than me I offer none onto the gods. There will always be beings more powerful than I but those beings neither require my praise nor do they necessarily deserve it."
Even as the others spoke, Nine was busy polishing off rib after rib, her taloned fingers and kerchief covered in sticky oozing barbecue sauce as she gaped as wide as she could and cleaned them off right to the bone. She paused when Ingrid offered her a bite, bone sticking halfway out of her mouth and a blush rising to her cheeks.
She reached up and slid it out from between her teeth, swallowing hastily. She ripped another rib free from the rack. "We should trade," she decided, not really waiting for confirmation and just shoving it onto Ingrid's plate. "That's Nixie Five's Bull BBQ. It's got some nice kick."
"Nice kick!" groaned a sirrahi from the doorway, gazing jealously out at the smorgasbord. "Nixie Five's Bull BBQ," whined another.
Her brother turned to Trypano for a moment. "How very... unique," he remarked. "You know, basssed upon my observation, your sssociety appears on the precipice of a great transssformation." He began to gorge himself, then, on steamed ham. "We shall speak at greater length," he promised, receiving affirmation from the doorway and his sister. "But first, I believe we should should finish thisss meal."
Still busy eating, utterly unladylike, Nine swallowed, spat out a bone, and turned to Desmond, dabbing her mouth clean with a napkin. "Hi, friend!" she chirped, leaning in (for she was seated beside him, some of her coils all-but pressed up against him). "Are you enjoying your... 'food'?"
"Hi friend!" mimicked someone from the doorway.
"A great transformation you say? How... Interesting you should say." Trypano responded. "I would be happy to exchange information after consuming this meal." With that she took her fork and began to politely eat her salad. It was quite filling and nutritionally balanced which was good. Ordinarily this would be valuable energy for her magic as well but given the circumstances she felt oddly cut off from that aspect of herself as well. It would take getting used to. Still, there was something more at hand here than what others truly grasp.
Surströmming was delicious and all but ribs? "Sure! I love a good kick with my food," Ingrid smiled as she picked up the rib and took a bite. The Rib was tender and had a meaty quality the played as the backbone of the dish. Nixie Five's Bull BQQ heavily spiced with a splash of acidity to balance out how sweet it was. Ingrid will have to remember to use this process to her own cooking as it was so good! "That was delicious Nine, thank you for sharing with me."
Desmond watched as people ate, each seemed to eat very differently. Some ate with a voracity that would be seen by that of someone who had starved. Others ate with some elegance and normalcy, yet some ate almost calculatedly. They ate just enough to not make others upset or nervous, and Desmond was one of them. He was very calm and mannered with his eating, yet he was honestly very curious on how they were able to make Haggis and Black pudding with such speed. To make either was an endeavor on it's own at least taking near an hour, yet they completed it in 20 minutes.
Desmond had some doubts on them not already having some of this prepared, the dishes made for both him and Ingrid takes much more time than they allotted themselves. So they must have already had it prepared and stored someplace or already prepping for them expecting for them to wish to eat when they awoke.
As Nine seemed to talk to Desmond, she leaned onto him more than anything, almost as if she would spill over into his seat if given the chance, Desmond looked up to Nine with a smile as he said, "Hi Nine" Desmond then turned to the door as he waved to them and said, "Hello friend". As he turned back to Nine and then said, "Ah, the food. It reminds me of Home for sure". Desmond looked to Ingrid's actions and had an idea, a smirk came to his face as he cut some black pudding and said, "Here, wanna try?"
It was to Nine's great delight that she ate the wonderful thing known as 'Black Pudding' that she had prepared from a book of recipes. It was truly a delectable dish and she began to feel bad. Perhaps it was too good. The people of Enth were creators of poor cuisine, after all, as judged by their fellow humans. Perhaps they had an idiosyncratic taste that made them enjoy it. Perhaps Desmond was not truly enjoying the food. It was too... good.
In any event, the crisis soon blew over and dinner was more or less complete. One finished wiping off his face, placed his napkin on the table, and knit his fingers together. "Ssso, it now comes time to ssspeak on other matters," he said.
"Time to speak," Nine echoed.
"Other matters," said a couple of her brothers in the doorway.
One held a hand up to forestall any discussion of a certain nature. "The one thing that I will warn you now is that we have revealed ourssselves to you mossst accidentally. We had believed we were dealing with the sssame intruders who had done us harm before. They were to be disssposed of."
"Warn you," chorused some.
"Most accidentally," Nine repeated absently.
"To be disssposed of," warned a couple of her brothers and one sister ominously.
Nine looked to her brother and he nodded for her to take the reins. "Ssso, basically, thisss interaction never took place."
"Never took place."
"Thisss interaction."
"There is so much we'd like to know about your peoples. I am ssso personally curious." She touched a hand to her chest.
"Ssso much we'd like to know," echoed One.
"Ssso personally curious," repeated one of her sisters.
"But, if we answer too many of your questions on knowledge and devicesss, it might affect the development of your ssspecies. That is not something we can risssk. It may give you an advantage over the others which is unfair and result in... bad outcomes."
"Might affect the development of your species," mumbled One.
"Too many quessstions."
"Something we can risssk."
From somewhere beyond that sliding doorway, there came a ring, almost like a bell but muted in an unnatural way... almost as if it was an imitation sound. After a moment, one of the sirrahi who'd been peering out ducked inside and muted conversation could be heard. She poked her head out again. "Brother," she addressed One, "it's for you. They say it's important."
As their meal wrapped up, Ingrid anticipated that the somewhat lightheartedness of the conversation they had held earlier was coming to an end. Ingrid appreciated that they were being forward with them about the current position we are in. With their power, they may be able to completely wipe their memory of this event. Ingrid understand that their knowledge was dangerous to us humans. She felt conflicted. Ingrid was personally looking for better mining practices, magical or mundane. With the look of the materials they can create, there is no question that they have advanced much further in mundane production. Even the simple act of creating sound however they did could create dozens of advancements to just reach that one feat.
Our actions of theorizing on the sound, speculating on the materials they used, and Trypano's attempts at information exchange should have made it obvious to them that we are part of what they worry about. Capable scholars that given the opportunity will absorb whatever they will accidentally give.
Ingrid knew she shouldn't be greedy, for more reasons than she cared to name, but at the same time didn't want this experience to vanish. Ingrid had no idea what they were capable of but wiping their memory is highly likely. Ingrid could feel that unbearable cold in her chest when she imagines going back to her thoughts before meeting them. Ingrid would fight to remember them
"I guess the first thing I should say is thank you. You didn't need to spare us, nor did you have to treat us as guests but you did and I can't thank you enough. But. I do not want this meeting just to be forgotten about." Ingrid's cheery demeanor faded for an air of seriousness. Ingrid wanted to be clear that she wants to remember them. Ingrid loosened up and continued to speak, "I'll keep answering questions if I can remember you guys," Ingrid said while glancing towards Nine.
During the meal, Desmond was more focused on making sure his hospitable hosts couldn't turn on them without them being aware. Desmond knew they had only a few precious chances to defend themselves, and being in the same room with him is one of those few chances.
Yet as the meal came to an end, it seemed nothing strange happened, sure talking was to be had, yet some were much more focused on finishing their food. And it was time for them to get to the questions. Desmond had many things he wanted to ask, but most were dashed away when One spoke and told them that they were to be disposed of if they were the intruders they were intending for. Desmond was grateful they were not a shoot-on-sight kind of people, so Desmond should thank them for that. Yet One continued about saying they couldn't ask too much about their technology. Desmond was annoyed yet understood as he said, "Well either way, thank you for taking the time to make sure that we weren't the people who came here before. That is much appreciated."
Desmond listened to Ingrid, she seemed willing to give information as long as they got to remember them. Desmond agreed, not because he cared to remember them, but more because he dislikes the idea of having himself tampered with. He despises the idea of having his memories messed with, and will damn well fight them, yet he knew in this moment, that fighting their way out would be suicide. Based upon the amount of voices, the numbering systems, there should at least be 9 of them, but based upon the voices there might be at least 10-12 of these snakes. Desmond might be able to take down one, but multiple would be a real stretch.
He sighed as Desmond said with a bit of an aloof smirk on his face, "Yeah, I'd be willing to give information if I can ask a few questions and keep the memories. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, would be a sad thing to forget such memories". Desmond chuckled a bit as he said the next part, "And besides, we haven't even seen this encyclopedia you guys were talking about. I still want to see if you guys were able to get my good side"
Her brother had left the room to take the call and Nine was left alone with the humans and yasoi. She snorted despite the generally serious turn of the situation, and shot Desmond an appreciative look. "I assure you it caught... a side of you," she responded with a hint of cheekiness.
"I assure you," repeated another sirrahi.
"A side of you," echoed a few more. Others snickered.
"Now, as for your concerns..." she paused to brush some hair from her eyes. "Ugh, this stuff gets annoying after a while. Why do you not just cut it short? Does it serve as insulation?" She furrowed her brow quizzically. "Does it serve... mating purposes?"
There was a broken echo of many little parts of her question, but she shook her head as if to clear it. "I have no intention of erasing anybody's memory or letting any harm come to you. I am not some wicked witch."
"No intention."
"Wicked witch." The sirrahi in the doorway echoed that one in particular until Nine twisted and hissed in their direction.
She turned back to the primates, tucking some hair behind her ear, all smiles again. "As for questions," she continued, "I can answer some as pertain to my people, our culture, and our mission here but, for the reasons I've already stated, I can't hand you any science or technology."
"Can't hand it."
"Science or technology."
"Our culture."
A thought seemed to have occurred to her, however. "Ten!" she shouted, and was joined by a chorus of others until a second sirrahi who looked very much like her slithered meekly out of the doorway.
"Yesss, sissster?" the new arrival asked, eyes darting warily at their guests.
"Bring the encyclopedia!" Nine giggled, grinning in her snakey way. Others repeated the command and Ten blushed. "But Nine..."
"But Nine," they mimicked, exaggerating the whininess of it.
"He will be embarrassed."
"Embarrassed!"
"He will be."
Just then, One returned, his manner businesslike. "I shall ask you once: are there any further members of your group?"
With the end of their meal came the time for questions. A time to approach some answers in exchange for answers to some of theirs. Trypano noted, however, that there was more happening around them as they spoke than they were letting on.
She noted Nine's annoyance with the wig she had donned. "More the former than the latter I'm afraid." With an idle gesture she cast a long lock of her vermillion hair back behind her shoulder. "Much like peacocks we pride ourselves on our aesthetics, our own appearance holding an important role in our psyche. We use colors and decorations to appeal to others not just for mating but also to establish one's self in an aspect of social hierarchy as well as a means of self expression. There are those who spend their entire lives absorbed with both their appearance and with the public's impression of them, their image becoming not just a reflection of them but a facet of their personality as well."
Turned her attention back over to her comrades she noted Ingrid's concern, a notion Desmond seemed to share. Trypano simply shook her head.
"If they just wanted to learn about us I doubt they'd of needed to seek our consent for such questioning given the position we're in. All reassurances aside given the guidelines they've professed such an outcome could be possible but I have some doubt."
Just as she was about to approach her question however One returned, maintaining a professional front but something was definitely up.
"To be precise we came with a group. Two more individuals who didn't follow us into the concealed cavern are classmates of ours, a woman with a false leg and a yasoi. Both the woman with the false leg and another woman are royalty from separate kingdoms. Accompanying the latter individual are pirates, sea-faring bandits who steal property off boats using violent coercion. You're likely familiar with them as they comprise a fair number of this island's residents up on the surface. There were a large number accompanying us, though much fewer followed far enough into the cavern to happen upon the route we took. Whether or not that has changed since last we were rendered unconscious is unknown to me."
The last thing they needed was for the Sirrahi to believe they were up to some manner of subterfuge here. If any of her remaining comrades created issues for the underground locals she'd need the good will in order to better negotiate for their survival. The Sirrahi seemed reasonable but they held a certain fear towards humanity's more aggressive tendencies. Like with any animal, regardless of the quantity of their sentience, it was never wise to provoke something into acting out of fear...
And cornered snakes are known to bite.
Desmond listened with a small chuckle, there was no way for them to have taken a photo of him he would be embarrassed in. He was already prepared for what was to come, and what if it was a really flattering picture! It would be such a fun thing to talk about, yet is seemed One came back and asked them an ominous question.
As Trypano answered, Desmond asked the obvious question, "Why? What happened?"
Half an hour ago: It had been close to an hour and a half. Penny had been generous with time, but something was not right. "They've been in there too long!" she'd insisted to Amelea, but it had taken another twenty minutes to coax an escort out of her. Now, the Perrenchwoman voyaged through the dark and treacherous depths of an immense cave system, a grizzled old sailor with a stump for an arm and a callow cabin boy ranging out in front of her every so often before pulling back so as not to leave her behind.
In truth, she was pretty sure that they were frightened. This place gave off an unnatural feeling. Further in she went, though, and the faint whiff of sulfur she'd detected intensified. Geothermally heated? she wondered, but she didn't know. She knew little in here and there was little energy to be drawn as well. The lantern that one of the men carried was everything: its faint yellowish light swinging back and forth on a creaky handle as he walked, casting long shadows.
Every ten seconds, Penny stopped, reached out with her senses, and searched for energies. Paranoia crept in and was firmly entrenched by the time that the trio reached a large, underground waterfall. They cast about, left and right. One way was narrow, rocky, and had the waterfall and rapids to contend with. The other had reasonable banks and wound slowly into the depths. Leaning towards the latter, she did another sweep. That was when she felt it: something large in the distance - more than one 'something'. Penny reached for the Gift to draw energy, but that was when she noticed that the Gift had disappeared…
1- "So are you guys from this world?" 2- "So I noticed your names have a first, middle, and last structure. First is your name you are referred to be differentiated from your middle and last, your Middle seems to be a number which you each use to call each other and even those you are close to, and the last is probably a family name. What does the Number mean?" 3- "So Nine I noticed you enjoyed the Black Pudding a lot. Do you like the blood taste? I personally don't like it much, but it's what I know some people like it for." 4- "So you talked about the reason why you are down here is because of some All-Knower. Who is this All-Knower?" 5- "So do you guys normally wear clothing?" 6- "How good of swimmers are you guys? I know some snakes are good at swimming, but I'm unsure how that translate upwards in scale." 7- "So your music seems very different than ours, I also noticed many instruments I've never heard. Are those ones you invented yourselves?" 8- "How it is so cool in here? I understand if it is technology and you don't wanna talk about it, but I'm curious because of where we are it would be much warmer" 9- "Do you guys have your own language system or is it Avincian?" 10- "So how does your reproductive organs work? Can you mate with others like Humans and Yasoi? Or is it 100% within your species?" 11- "Do all of your species live underground? Or do you all live in the little mesh in the ceiling? Hehehe I'm joking about that" 12- "Is there a way for me to maybe, possibly, with permission, somehow, pretty please have a way to listen to music like the way we did down here but in a portable form?"
Our Crew of School sanctioned Pirates have found themselves a secret tunnel. Upon entering they found a man-made cave that seemed to have been used often as they ventured to hunt down mysterious glowing eyes. When they found the mysterious creature they thought they saw, the Group lost their ability to use magic and were captured thereafter.
They awoke an hour later in a grey room as mysterious people spoke to them through a mesh spoke and talked to them. As they talked to the people behind the mesh, they eventually showed themselves to be snake people, the Sirrahi. After some talking the group was left inside this room with music coming from the Mesh so that the Sirrahi could make them dinner. After the group ate with two Sirrahi, One and Nine, they will be able to ask them questions as a form of Cultural exchange, well, until Penny seemed to have gotten herself into trouble.
The moon washed the refuge in a faint glow as Yalen’s second night in Torragon came to an end. Once again the students of Ersand’Enise found themselves walking in unison, the Red Tower slowly receding behind them. Slightly ahead of everyone else was Jocasta, her wheels gliding effortlessly across the stone colonnade. The demure mask from before was now gone. In its place was something more genuine. She had become more laid-back, and perhaps more cheeky as well. The tethered girl looked over her shoulder.
”Hey you four, I’m curious. If you were able to time travel, what do you think you would do with it?” Jocasta called out to them.
”Time travel? Indeed…” Yalen had a faraway look as he seriously pondered over Jocasta’s question. There were so many answers to pick from. Reverse a tragic event? Meet someone no longer alive, or yet to be born? The opportunities were endless. ”I think I would speak to my future self. If I end up with any regrets in my life, it would be a privilege to have a second chance.” He finally decided upon his answer after a few seconds of contemplation.
The gap between Jocasta and the others closed as she became more conscious of her pace. ”I could hardly fault you,” she replied, “though I think I’ll probably have far more regrets than someone as… just damned good as you.” Though she obviously meant it in a good way, Yalen frowned at the remark.
There’s no need to put yourself down like that. He thought to himself.
”There are questions I’d like to ask, or things I would’ve liked to have figured out earlier,” Kaspar started in a soft tone,”But… perhaps I’d go to some time I’ve never been or never will be. Some time removed from myself - to have the chance to see something I’ll never get to see.”
He blushed lightly, shooting a glance toward the wheelchair-bound girl. ”But, ah… That’s perhaps a less… productive way to use such a power,” he admitted.
Jocasta smiled at Kaspar's blush. "Gettin' all bashful on me, there, eh?” She pushed off again - a great big one that let her glide freely, but then she grabbed her wheels, pushed back, and ended up beside Kaspar. "I'd go far into the future and see what kind of world we've made for ourselves by then." She paused, pressing a pensive finger to her lips for a moment. "Or maybe way back to the start of it all." Her eyes gazed wistfully into the distance, but the guest dormitories were not far now.
"Perhaps you could tell us whether the chicken or the egg came first?" Yalen suggested jokingly. His poor attempt at humor caused Zarina to poke him in the side, at which he recoiled. He rubbed his ribcage and tightened his lips. "I could answer your question,” Jocasta teased Yalen, "Though I'd be deathly afraid of rolling over the wrong egg and fouling up the entire flow of history. Time is... not to be trifled with, I think. I'd also have to scrub yolk off my wheels. Ugh. No thank you." She blinked and looked towards the other two women, who'd been silent to now. "How about you, Strong-but-Silent?" she prodded.
Ayla mused over the question for a while before answering. "There is nothing to change in the past. For what has happened, has been. Our lives are filled with regret, failure, and missed opportunities. But to human is to err, and only by failure will we learn and become better than our previous selves. If we change the past, we don't learn those lessons, and we are doomed to repeat them. By undoing one event, won’t we create even more potentially bad ends?". She places her hand over her friend’s, knowing of the trouble in her past. "With a power like that, it is not about changing the past, but changing the future. The power to know what may happen and change it, making a better world for ourselves and others around us. We may not erase the past, but we can prevent such things from happening in the first place. Learn lessons without the price of failure."
Ayla's more serious answer gave Jocasta pause. "Heprates has nothing on you," she joked, rolling out ahead again. "But I think you're right, you know. Changing the past - well, more than a couple minutes of it - does no good. Failing to use such a gift to create a better future might be wasting it. Still," she mused aloud, "I wonder so much what times distant from ours will look like. Will they really be better?"
Ayla smiles as she moves to stroke her fingers through Jo's blonde hair in a comforting manner, caressing it lightly at its ends. "If there is ever the opportunity, don't forget about your amiga, Ayla.". She teases her friend with her comment, "Though such wishful thinking is most likely only so. Never heard of such a gift before.".
Zarina had remained conspicuously silent during this exchange. Her arms crossed under her chest as she she paced slightly behind the others and just watched the evening skies. When Jocasta poked for both Ayla’s and Zarina’s attention, the Virangish kept discreet while the Torragonese expressed her views on the matter, more so than a wish. With the tone she used, it seemed like the subject had affected her patience and forced herself to answer. ”I don’t like to think of these things.” she states when a moment of silence came and inevitable attention was brought to her again, ”They busy the mind with things that won’t– or shouldn’t happen.” she scratched her cheek, ”I don’t dwell on the past and I make the future what I want it to be. No point skipping ahead.”
"Well, don't feel compelled to answer Zarina. We're just passing time." Yalen offered in an attempt to smooth things over.
Indeed, time had passed and they were back in their dorm area now. For a moment, Jocasta glared daggers at Ayla's offending hands, but her face soon softened. In response to her, Yalen, and - most especially - Zarina, the tethered merely giggled. "Oh, I know it's all just a hypothetical. Still," she concluded, "I find it fun to think about and... who knows, y'know?" She may or may not have winked, it was so brief, but she set hands to wheels and turned off in the direction of the big common room.
"Anyways, I'm off to go be a maid for the next little while. I'll see you soon!"
A maid? You're the one who offered to help! Yalen thought to himself. The number of cheeky women in the group was growing. Yalen entered the common room with Jocasta, and with her help the space was made a bit cleaner and more well lit. Candles and lanterns were appropriated and unnecessary furniture pushed to the edges of the room. Only a low lying table was allowed to remain in the middle, with floor cushions spread out so that each student had a place. Jocasta may have rolled her eyes a bit when Yalen even insisted on rearranging some of the lights so they would form a five sided perimeter around them. Once the arrangements had been made, Yalen took his seat while Jocasta was allowed to choose between remaining in her wheelchair or using one of the cushions herself. "Thanks Jocasta. I couldn't have managed by myself." Yalen said gratefully. His eyes were drawn to the Kerreman time piece on the wall. The agreed upon hour was only a couple minutes away, so it wouldn't be long until their friends joined them.
"I'll admit to helping because I was intrigued,” Jocasta replied, backing up to admire some of their handiwork with the low table. "Place looks more alive than I've ever seen it,", she agreed, turning on the spot to take it all in. She came to a stop and breathed. "You know, we used to call it the 'Ghost Room' when we were kids. We'd dare each other to go in there and complete 'missions' and things." She let out a snort and smiled faintly, wistfully, looking up at Yalen. "We thought it was haunted, but it was just a room that never got used." She rolled forward a bit, bending over and repositioning the cushion beside him with her hands instead of the Gift. With a small grunt of exertion, she swung herself down onto it, taking a moment to sweep some golden locks from her eyes. "Something poetic about this, whatever happens tomorrow," she remarked, eyes roving for a moment before finding his. Absently, she gathered her legs and crossed them. "And, well... before anyone else gets here, I just... wanna say a thank you of my own." She glanced down at her lap, smoothing out some of the folds in her dress before resting her hands on her knees. "You knew me for what I was this morning - Eshiran, I could see your fear - but you didn't try to use me or destroy me for it." She pressed her eyelids shut for just a moment and time slipped away. In the anticipatory stillness of this place, the senses became acute. One could feel the air brush their skin as it was warmed by a dozen candles. The snapping of tiny flames and the ticking of a clock echoed through the silence, and if one listened closely they might even hear their own pulse.
Yalen leaned forward on the table and rested his chin on top of his arms. He lay there staring at a flickering candle. It was strange how uneasy he felt right now. The priest in training had held dozens of people's hands as they pleaded to Dami for clemency, felt the life slip out of their body as they slowly faded away. He had prayed for them, and cried for them, but the short time spent with his new friends had exposed Yalen to emotions he'd never had to deal with before.
"I'm sorry Jocasta, but you're mistaken. I didn't know anything until recently. What you saw in me this morning was merely the lingering touch of a bad dream." Yalen sighed heavily. I never would have doubted you at all were it not for other people whispering in my ear. I admit I did begin to suspect you, and when I finally learned of your past wrongdoings... After trusting you so innocently, I felt betrayed." There was a pause as Yalen stopped to take a breath. He still wasn't looking at her, but he felt her gaze drilling into the back of his head. Without seeing her face it was impossible to know how she was feeling right now. "The others say they forgive you... but I cannot do the same." This time Yalen sat up straight and met her eyes. "But it's not because you don't deserve it. The right to forgive belongs to the victims, and to yourself."
Yalen placed a gentle hand on Jocasta's scalp, the same way he would comfort a crying child. When he did so, his sixth sense detected an influx of energy being drawn into her body. She was like a wild cat being touched for the first time. "The only choice that is truly our own, is the choice of whether to accept what we see before us." "In you... I indeed see a sinner. A murderer, but I don't believe that is who you are deep inside. I can feel the good in you, and I know you didn't just protect us for the sake of the warden's mission. You did what you had to do to survive your terrible circumstances." Without warning, he reached out and forced her face into his chest. Trapped in his hug, Jocasta could no longer see Yalen's face, but it was easy to feel the hammering of his heartbeat.
"I accept all that you are, and I know the others do too. If you ever feel yourself stray from the path of justice again, think of us. We met as strangers, but by brushing with death we have all gained something deeper than friendship. We will never betray you." Seconds went by and Jocasta remained unresponsive, but eventually she moved her hands from the floor to embrace Yalen in return.
”Cute.” The two tethered were so focused on each other that they hadn’t felt Zarina slip into the room unannounced. Yalen looked over to see her throw him a cheeky grin from behind a glass of water. Turning full 180, she stepped out of the room and closed the door. The Virangish waited by the entrance for a few minutes, making sure the two blondes had their moment unperturbed.
"Well I think we both heard that. The others must be waiting outside. Let's not keep them any longer. Yalen gave Jocasta one final pat on the back and helped her back onto her seat, taking care to provide enough support without outright babying her. He got up and made for the door, and when he opened it he could still see Zarina giving him the look. It was good that she was having fun he supposed, though he wished she would tone down the sauciness once in a while. "Good to see you Zarina. Please, come in. Yalen held the door open and politely gestured for her to proceed. She took the invitation and stepped into the room, although she kept to the edges and didn’t appear to want to be noticed all too much, ”I hope you can excuse my lack of participation,” Zarina speaks up before others may join, ”I don’t exactly share the same enthusiasm for the Pentad as some others might.” and yet here she was.
Shortly after, Ayla came in with a big knowing smile as she made her way towards Jo. She sat beside the girl, her hand being placed within Jo's reach as if being offered for her to take it. "We do have a lot of discuss about the petition. It can be rather dry, so we were thinking... ... why not make a girls night out of it? We can see about arranging some nice food, some music, some... privacy for talking. Try to lighten the atmosphere a bit. It has almost been non-stop since we came here. Very exhausting."
Yalen and Zarina exchanged pleasantries while Ayla and Jocasta had their own little conversation. Kaspar eventually turned up as well, though he was a few minutes late. Everyone that needed to be here was now present.
”Everyone, I cannot express how happy I am that you’ve agreed to sit with me tonight. It seems our final trial awaits, and I grow fearful for our safety. With such an uncertain fate awaiting us, it was my hope to bring all of us under one roof to seek the Pentad’s grace. You need not close your eyes or bow your heads. I know a couple of you do not share my enthusiasm for the Menana, and that is okay, for it is enough that you are here. Now, let’s proceed without delay.”
”Tonight I borrow inspiration from the life of Lysander the Worldbinder. It is he who is said to have crossed the Ensollian Sea and entered the land of Zaqhora, where he sought to claim the Sword of Kings and become the chosen prophet of Eshiran. At the time, the holy relic was in the possession of the pharaoh Amunkhare, who in the age of myths commanded the greatest dynasty of ancient Severa. After much deliberation, the mighty pharaoh did agree to relinquish the treasured blade, and revealed the location of its tomb. However, Lysander found the sword protected by the most cunning of trials. Five mighty gates barred the way to the relic, and five tests to unseal them. The night before delving into the tomb, the Worldbinder sat with his closest companions and called to the gods for protection and strength. Since then, circles like these have become traditional practice among the more devout practitioners of Quentism. With that all said, let us pray.”
Yalen placed his right hand beneath his left shoulder. ”I speak to Ipte, designer of all this world’s love and beauty. Thank you for blessing us with the bonds of new friendship. Though we may not see eye to eye in all things, our kindred spirits have tied our fates together. Let this meeting not be a chance encounter, but a relationship that we carry to the end of our lives. Let your love touch the residents of this sanctuary, so that they may overcome the wounds in their hearts and live on.”
Yalen placed his left hand beneath his right shoulder. ”I speak to Shune, the all seeing and all knowing one. This sacred mission has been a learning experience for all of us. Here in this foreign land, we encounter new ideas and perspectives that would be out of reach within our own narrow understanding. Bless us Enlightened One, for we need your guidance now more than ever. In order to save the tethered, we must negotiate on their behalf and show the world that they are not a people to be feared. It is ignorance that plagues this land, and we seek to be the cure.”
Yalen placed his left hand on his right hip. ”I speak to Oraff, my beloved patron and creator of life as we know it. In the face of grave danger, we plea to you for preservation. In order to destroy the mad wyrm, we must put many lives at stake. Perhaps some of us shall meet our end. If any are to fall tomorrow, I humbly ask that they may go in peace, without any undue suffering. Protect those with righteousness in their hearts, for it is they who shall lead this world unto a brighter future.”
Yalen placed his right hand on his left hip. ”I speak to Eshiran, whose power and fury we rightfully fear. Mighty destroyer, grant us the strength to do your deeds. For those willing to fight, give them the courage and strength to persevere. Many of those who will stand on the field tomorrow have never known the fear of battle. Look upon us and smile, as we fight for the sake of those too weak to fight for themselves. In order to protect that which we hold dear, please empower us.”
Finally, Yalen brought his hands together just below his chest. “Last but not least I speak to Dami, the holder of the scales and dispenser of the holy law. Of the judge most supreme, I request your guiding hand as we strive to do what we think is right. This refuge is not a place of peace as we once believed. It is a prison. A monument to the hubris of evil men. We will face opposition from those who seek to hide their dark deeds from the world. Strike down their fallacious words. Let no falsehoods remain. As arbiters of justice, we shall overturn this flawed system and deliver hope to the people.”
After having said so much, the young priest needed a long moment to catch his breath. Once he had collected himself, he unclasped his hands and looked towards Zarina, who was still playing the part of the wallflower. To her, he offered a warm smile. Unbeknownst to her, the prayer was not yet over.
”...I know little of the Dreamer believed to slumber at the heart of our world. Whether such a being exists is beyond the extent of my faith. If this existence truly is a product of Vashdal’s dream… then I can only pray that their slumber continues to be a pleasant one.”
For a moment, Jocasta simply sat here, cross-legged, palms pressed together. It had been… years since last she’d prayed, but the motions had been drilled into her at some point in the part of her life she did not remember and subsequently reinforced during her time at San Agustin. She closed her eyes for a moment. “This, we ask of you,” she concluded. “In nomini Ipte, Shune, Oraff, Eshiran, Dami. Amen.” She opened them and it was finished.
Nothing unusual transpired as Yalen went through his morning routine. He got out of bed nice and early and bowed his head in silent conversation with the Creator, thankful to be alive for one more glorious day. After cleansing his body and getting dressed he left his room and made for the administrative tower as instructed. Unlike the past couple of days, the weather was pleasantly cool and overcast. He listened and observed as children around the refuge scurried about, cheering excitedly for the rain to come down.
Yalen was in high spirits during the meeting, his slumber no longer plagued by ill dreams. He tucked into his breakfast with gratitude, sampling a small bit of every dish on the table. He listened carefully to the words of Amanda and Don Escarra as he ate, and when the subject of managing the children came up he was quick to volunteer.
”I am prepared to fight when necessary, but I feel that I am better off watching the kids. There are others here more powerful than I who would do a better job at capturing the Vice-Wardens, and I have already gained the favor of some of the young ones.”
The conceptualization of my experiment began at a young age for me. Our lives are a fleeting concept, carried on the whims of our fickle creators. I sought the ambitions to be the one to escape the limiting workings of this world. Overzealous, I overextended and yet with the nurturing hands of your encouragement, I kept my aspirations enough to proceed. The initial experimentation was trying and yet I had vision of something extravagant planned.
How imprudent was I to contrive such an end without first understanding the beginning? The Doll is dead. In a deathrattle, she preserved the secret I have so carefully kept. A parting letter bequeathed on the Deserted bed where she had last been seen. Hidden from their view, I have made a request to a Confidante to retrieve the vessel and be returned. They need not be the wiser to my macabre experiment and my more, eccentric machinations.
I conclude my letter with an assurance. I shall toil away, shrouded from view. This was initially a haggard experience but one to be learned from. Murmurs of my demise are greatly exaggerated.
Taking the stairs up after leaving Zarra, Dory emerges from the Cargo Hold to find that there's nobody in the room outside. Nobody that is conscious, at least, just fallen bodies that are either conscious or dead. Seeing these bodies are not doing any good for her still shocked mind. Were these bodies too somehow the result of what she had done? The reality of course is that these are the bodies of the fallen combatants from the earlier fight between her fellow students, two of the ship's Arcanists, and the traveler agents but there's no real way for Dory to know that right now considering she was unconscious while the fight took place. Dory also knows that she need to keep moving on, not being hold up by bodies. She resolved to help with the situation and do what she can after all, and that is what matters most right now. So she continues on out of the room, getting to the corridor where more bodies are present. A part of the walls in this corridor is leaking water, although Manfred had jammed a chandelier cap on the hole to try to slow it down earlier. It holds for now, though more solid repair will be needed for sure. Alas, it is not something Dory can manage on her own; she's no Binder.
It is as she is traversing through this corridor that she comes upon Eun-Ji, the real one this time, that is coming from the other way. Eun-Ji had went to do a quick scouting of the ship earlier to get a better idea of what needs to be done before then updating Manfred about it and about how she had managed to find everyone in the team and relayed to them about the less than desirable situation of the Lorentine Queen. Afterwards, the two separated again with Manfred continuing on while Eun-Ji backtracked to meet with Dory and Zarra as she had promised.
"Ms. Honhstein" Eun-Ji says as she jogs over toward Dory. She stops in front of Dory, giving her a polite nod even considering the dire circumstances. "Where is Mr. Travendour? Actually, never mind." From what she had seen so far of Zarra, she quickly makes the necessary assumption that he must have decided to go on his own way again. She'll just have to trust that he's going to help. Thus, she decides to move on with just Dory. "I'm glad to see that you've recollected yourself... As I have said, there's much to do." Eun-Ji pauses just a moment, regarding Dory with calculating eyes and recalling what little she knows about Dory. "If I am not mistaken, you are an Arcanist of some manner, yes?"
"Then we can work together on dealing with the fires that had broken out throughout the ship and spreading rapidly. There are some others, people without the gift, that are trying to put out the fires even amidst the chaos... But they will need our help." Eun-Ji gestures politely for Dory to come with her, knowing that the most dangerous outbreak of fire is currently located in the 1st Cabin deck above with its many walls, wallpapers, and other flammable things; too many flammable things that will allow the fire to spread rapidly if not quickly taken care off. Additionally, there are also other fires that they can quickly snuff out along the way. "Shall we, Ms. Hohnstein?"
Leon Solaire@Jumbus(and his temporary sidekick Firebrand!) ______________________________________________________
Leon once more acts to take the stage and draw attention to himself, with the help of Firebrand to provide him the necessary fabulous display of magical illusion this time. The flashy but otherwise harmless display of light that seems to emanate from Leon succeeds in taking the attention of just about every single of the rabble in the entertainment hall. Even the drunkest of them (or perhaps these are the most susceptible considering how inebriated they are) stops whatever it is they are doing at that moment; some still have their fists raised and ready to brawl with each other. A short skinny man, earlier busy taking advantage of the situation by shoving whatever valuable things he can found into his pockets, stops awkwardly before realizing that nobody's looking at him. All gazes are locked onto the extremely famous performer after all. The first part of his plan had succeeded as the fighting and chaos are disrupted.
He seizes the moment immediately by going on an impromptu acrobatics show, showing off his well trained finesse and agility by dancing and leaping from one intact table to the others all while Firebrand continues to support him by making one entrancing illusory light after another. Noises of chaos from the other parts of the ship provides the ambience to the otherwise rather silent show as the lounge that was just as rowdy a moment before is now enchanted by the performance, and soon enough the silence was yet again replaced by a commotion... One of applause, cheering, and whistling from the crowd that had became enchanted by Leon.
It goes on like that for a while, and it seems very likely that Leon and Firebrand will be able to take control of the situation here. More people trickles to the entertainment lounge, attracted by the jolly atmosphere that is a notable contrast from the uncontrolled chaos that is present in nearly all other parts of the boat. At this rate, they might even be able to pacify a large enough number of people that the riot and fighting will be much more manageable for the rest of the team.
Alas, not all of the people among the newcomers trickling into the lounge seem to be too keen to see Leon. One such person, a lanky gentleman that is leading two others, disrupts the show with his own small trick of the gift. He amplifies his voice just enough to overcome the cheering and clapping of the crowd as he gets up onto a table of his own and gestures a clenched fist at Leon in challenge. "Oy! Leon Solaire you charlatan! What game are you playing at??" The crowd goes silent once more as all eyes are now unto this attention stealing man. The man has the look of a half-drunk and furious fellow, staring dagger at Leon. There's also hints of grief in his visage. "The nerve of you! First you promised a show, telling people to go out there to the deck... But what awaited us was chaos! My brother got his skull caved in and his nephew got trampled to death! And now you dare show up and do all these like nothing happened, Eshiran curse your cold heart!"
The crowd continues their silence. Some looks confused, but most seems excited. It seems that most of them doesn't really care much of what the man said, but they are curious of how Leon will react to this man that is challenging his dominance for the spotlight. To them, this is just more entertainment. Firebrand too looks unsure as he looks at Leon, standing near the left entrance of the lounge away from the crowd's attention. All it seems, is waiting for Leon to respond to the man.
Meanwhile, Carmillia is moving away on her search for the agent provocateurs while Leon deals with the crowd. Heading for the upper deck, her trip is cut short as she encounters one such individual that is very clearly fanning the flames of the riot movement. An older man white grey balding hair and a thick beard, skinny yet with quite the force behind his voice, is shouting words of provocation at his fellow rioters. "Keep it up, comrades! Down with the Rednitz scum!" the man said with gusto, right hand balled into a fist and raised high in the air. "Is it not our rights to take what is owned to us from those so-called noble leeches? Indeed it is! Today, this boat! Tomorrow, the country! Down with the Rednitz!"
Two other men, both tall and strong in stature, follows the older man like loyal followers as he slowly walks around the open air walkway of the 1st Cabin Deck. Rioters cheer and raise their fists in reply as the man walks pass them, his words clearly having the effects that he desired upon his so-called comrades in revolution. The emboldened and zealous rabble continue their fighting, plundering and pillaging, either seemingly blind to or just trying to take as much as they can even as fires continue to spread slowly but surely throughout the level. Only a few people in comparison are trying to put out the fires, either because their minds are sound enough to understand the danger of the situation or simply because they are good enough that they couldn't just let the fires spread unchecked.
For now none yet directly accost the pale, white-haired young woman that sticks out like a sore thumb among these mostly male rabble, although she's definitely starting to attract attention for better or for worse. Most doesn't seem to care much for her as of now but a few that pass by her gives her some looks of suspicion, as the overall chaos of the situation seems to fuel the paranoia in their hearts. Between the flame and the general air of hostility, it is clear then that it is best for her not to idly linger for long.
The young Perrench nobleman had achieved much as he puts himself into action to actually help with potentially saving the Lorentine Queen from having her last voyage, in a way undoing the damage that he and a few others had caused with their earlier chaotic actions during the earlier phase of the mission. Taking full advantage of his ability to quickly traverse the ship by phasing in and out of the material realm, he mended the holes that had allowed water to leak in and even fixed and returned the pipe that he had earlier stolen from the engine room back to where it belongs. Of course, using so much of his gift and unique ability as a greyborn in a relatively short span of time didn't come without its own consequences as he is now starting to be exhausted.
Patching the holes did indeed buy them more time to deal with the situation, but for as long as the riot itself remains unstopped it is just a matter of time until more damages and holes will inevitably be made to the ship...
Back to where he started his first act of pipe thievery, the tired Zarra walks through the area with the machinery when he comes upon a group of four rioters. At first, they seem to give him little care as they're too busy trying to find things to pillage. But then, one of the man stops and gives Zarra a good look. The outfit that he is currently wearing marks him as an employee of the ship... And those are not currently seen in a very good light in the eyes of these rioters. Indeed, it is mostly a case of targeting the wrong people considering most of the crews of the ship are common folks just like them but that is currently far from the recognition of their overly zealous minds. "Oy folks, look what we 'ave here. One of them traitors who kowtowed to the Rednitz scums." The man's words cause the three others to stop what they are doing and turn, all focusing on Zarra. "Aye man, sure looks like one to me now that you said it" said one of the other man. The third crack his knuckles, slowly walking toward Zarra with violence in his mind, while the fourth man seems to think that surely his three friends are enough to rough up a ship crew as he continues to look for things to pillage.
Things, it seems, refuse to be so simple.
Manfred Hohenfelter@Force and Fury _________________________________
Wary of another fight when there are so many lives that can be saved instead, Manfred decides to go on ahead with his crazy idea. He starts to talk instead with the traveler agents facing him. "This isn't the time for petty fights" he starts. "Not when hundreds of lives are on the line unless this madness is stopped. Unless WE stop this." The Magusjaeger keeps staring straight at the agents, unyielding in his gaze. Yet he had also made his intention very clear and extended to them an offer: To cease on the fighting between those with the gifts, instead using those gifts to save lives. The agents remain silent for a while. The Powergazer, despite his covered eyes, seems as if he is returning Manfred gaze with a burning one of his own...
And then he relaxes his posture slightly and nods at Manfred. "On that we agree, stranger. This insanity where the innocents are becoming victims of those who misuse their gifts is not what we stands for." He looks at his taller partner and exchange nods with him. "We will work with you."
Perhaps that idea was not so crazy after all. Though he didn't exactly expect that the agents would actually agree to work together, Manfred also doesn't waste any time. There's not even a single moment to be wasted on being surprised after all. "Great" he replies simply before continuing. "Others are already at work to save this ship, and I am sure they will manage."Well, some of them at least..."But still more need to be done... I'm thinking we need to get this ship moving, put it to shore where people will be able to get back no land safely."
"Then we need to get the machinery to work again. I can aid with that." The Powergazer pauses for a moment, as if contemplating something. "But not by myself. We will need others."
Terror of The Lorentine River, The Schluckodil _______________________________________
After Zarra had left, a duo of pillagers end up in the kitchen with the tables being used to patch the giant hole. "Where's all the food, man? Surely there's something good here, it's the kitchen." says one of the man, looking through the kitchen cabinets. "Just keep looking, Franz." the other man replies while also searching through the kitchen for something good to eat. "There's definitely gotta be something we can find. Maybe some really good meat or booze, yeah?" The first man nods in agreement as the two continue their search.
A sudden loud thud emerges from somewhere in the walls, causing the two to stop their rummaging about. The first man, Franz, frowns before starting to speak. "Did you hear that? The heck's that? You hear that right?" The other man shrugs, looking agitated. "I don't know, Franz. I heard it alright, but I don't know what the heck that was. Maybe the boat hits something, eh?" In response, Franz looks at his friend like he is mad. "This boat's not moving right now. How can it hit anything if it's not moving?"
And then there is another thud, louder, followed by a third. The two man gaze at the tables being used to cover the big hole, realizing that that is where the thudding are coming from. Though of course, they don't know that there's a hole there. Frowning, Franz moves closer to the tables against his better judgment as the thudding continues. "Maybe, maybe we should just leave Franz. Let's go..." says the other man, getting more and more agitated by the passing seconds. In return, Franz merely raises his left hand as it to tell the other man to be quiet while he continue to approach the tables. As he draws very close to it, the thudding stops as suddenly as it had started. Silent passes for a few seconds... Franz turns around and shrugs at his friend. "Eeeh. Probably just a fish or something. Nothing to be worried about." He chuckles and starts to walk away from the tables again. That is when the tables give away. Franz turns around once more...
He comes face to face with the open jaw of a giant reptile. The other man screams in terror in place of Franz, who doesn't even have the luxury of screaming as the creature devours him whole in short order...
1) Concrete actions are being taken that are making it more likely for the Lorentine Queen to survive the night after all, but it is not done yet. The team need to continue with their effort to make sure things doesn't turn for the worse once more.
2) Dory, if she accepts to go with Eun-Ji to try to deal with the fire, will inevitably arrive at the entertainment lounge where Leon is putting on a show. She can decide to keep staying with Eun-Ji or try to help Leon instead.
3) Furthermore, if she decide to continue with Eun-Ji, she and Eun-Ji will also stumble upon Manfred and Seer. Those with arcane abilities such as Dory can help them with the ship's machinery.
4) The furious heckler that is challenging Leon will need to be handled one way or the other. He might even be used to the team's advantage instead in attracting even more people to watch the banter instead of rampaging through the boat.
5) There are indeed several riot 'leaders' among the rabbles. The more of these that are swayed to help stop the chaos, the easier it will be to ultimately completely put an end to the riot.
6) Fires still remain around the ship, getting worse by the each passing moment. There are those among the people onboard the ship that are trying to extinguish these fires, but they will need help to successfully do so.
7) A Schluckodil had breached its way through the giant hole in the kitchen in the lower deck. Needless to say, it is a very dangerous creature to be let loose.
8) If the Lorentine Queen can be moved, there is an opportunity to beach it or even dock it. However, the violence on the ship may spill out onto shore, meeting up with the violence there and becoming a problem for House Rednitz, masters of this area.
9) If all else fails, there are still those few rowboats that can be used to get some people back to shore.
Kaspar had never been one for faith in the gods; his belief was performative, the kind that was expected of him as a noble’s son, but it could not match Yalen’s. Still, he prayed with the rest of them, accepting it for the act of kindness and caring that it was. As he settled down in bed that night, he did not feel safer in the hands of the Pentad, but rather in the hands of his fellow classmates. Strangers they may have been but a day ago, they were individuals he could trust now.
The charcoal Halassa kept watch as he slept, tossing and turning in the heat. His night was mercifully dreamless, the kind of rest the boy needed before the trials of the following day. Though it would’ve been far more restful in the cold climate of Helbahn, it was enough.
Breakfast was a busy affair; Kaspar ate quickly, paying keen attention to the words spoken around him. He contemplated the roles that needed fulfilled—though he did not know much about fighting or subduing targets, much less ones trained with the Gift, he was hopeless with children. The boy barely knew how to interact with adults and individuals his own age, and children required a type of tact that he lacked. He did know some Chemical magic, though—it was one of the preferred schools of the Elstrøm’s, and so he’d been taught a bit before Ersand’Enise and encouraged to study it at the school.
Watching three of his companions speak up, the boy would swallow his food and offer, “I have some skill with Chemical energies, though it’s my only proficiency besides Binding.”
That seemed to be enough to solidify him in the role, partnered with Felix—the Afortunado who he’d first seen at the Great Naranja, who had startled him because of how similar they looked. The boy seemed skilled, though, and Kaspar was not foolish enough to turn him down because of some unsettling similarities.
As the time drew ever nearer to the fifth hour of Shune, he and Felix wound their way up the Red Tower, preparing for an encounter with Vice Warden Juan-Manuel Quintana Rojas. They hoped to talk him down, to appeal to his calculating and moral nature. But, like all who gathered and awaited the bells, they were willing to do whatever was required of them.
LOCATION: The Red Tower
It was 4:48 Shune: two minutes to the hour. The nighttime cold was eagerly transforming itself into the desolate daytime heat of the high desert as morning was on the verge of giving way to midday.
The Refuge of San Agustín de las Arenas was well and truly awake now: the daytime shift of Cardinals at their stations, Magpies and Pigeons having cleaned up after another successful breakfast, the Tethered themselves walking or wheeling about the courtyard, paths, and colonnades, the first few dipping unfeeling toes into the water of the great bath. There were two people, known as Eagles to those ostensibly in their care, who walked purposefully from area to area.
Juan-Manuel Quintana Rojas, was busy ascending the stairs of the Red Tower. Depressing place though it had become, he appreciated the brutalist bent of its architecture, the raw, unflinching purposefulness and functionality of what had once been a fort in the days of the conquest. Now, it was a place for the wretched to die. He did not like to look at them, and so he might very well keep all of their doors closed, confer with the staff, and move on. However, today brought a surprise. In the atrium by the lift was Felix - a teenaged boy and Afortunado who was very much not a resident of this tower. “Felix?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”
Kaspar’s footsteps on the stone floor seemed loud in the silence stretching between Felix and the Vice Warden. His crimson eyes slid, once, to the Afortunado who looked so much like him. By the time the noble’s gaze returned to Juan-Manuel, his face was stoic and cold.
“We are here to collect you, Vice Warden Quintana.” Kaspar’s voice was firm but only danced to the edge of threatening, not quite inviting itself past the tipping point. “The Warden, and all who follow him, have been overthrown. What I am going to tell you I say not as a threat, but as an offering to allow you to understand the situation before making your choice.”
The noble boy breathed in and back out slowly, steadying himself. “The Refuge has fallen. You are the last to stand in our way. We do not intend to hurt anyone who cooperates, but if you drive us to a fight… You will lose. Perhaps not to Felix and I, but inevitably to someone. You know what those housed in the Refuge are capable of, and the students of Ersand’Enise possess great strength as well.”
“Your choice is this: Cooperate now, and let it be known that you condemn the atrocities that transpired here. Do what you could not underneath Warden Ortega, and protect the children you were charged with.” It was difficult to keep the accusation out of his voice, but Kaspar had prepared this speech—had prepared these words to avoid threatening Quintana’s reputation on the basis of previous actions. But something in his blood-red eyes hardened as he continued. “Or, you can choose to try and fight us, and lose. If you do, you will spend the rest of your life known as a man who would protect and harbor the violent monsters who rape and abuse children.”
For his part, Felix mirrored his doppelganger as best he could. It was... uncanny how much this... Kaspar looked like him. That was a distraction. So was Luisa and just... thinking about her. Vice Warden Mirabel was a snake. Should anything happen to his Luisa, he would kill her, so help him, Eschiran. He blinked and he focused, wishing he could have the confidence and delivery of the other youth who stood at the top of the stairwell.
Juan-Manuel, meanwhile, clenched his jaw, eyes darting warily and analytically at the two youths. “You come here,” he began in a low, tense voice, sharp with a barely-restrained edge, “and threaten to hurt me?” He glared at Kaspar first. “I know you think you are strong, boy, coming from that fancy school, but I went there too. Do not presume to overpower me.”
Those same flinty eyes found Felix. “And you,” he growled. “I looked out for you.” They narrowed. “I practically got you that call to the Afortunado. Is this how you repay my generosity!?”
Felix swallowed. He had always feared the Vice Warden as much as, if not more than Warden Ortega, but he counseled himself calm. “That is why we have not sent a half dozen, Don Quintana, to simply come and poach you like an animal, no questions asked.” Felix bowed his head momentarily, deferentially. “I know you have long been uncomfortable with turning a blind eye to some of what happened here. I know your hands were tied because Warden Ortega occupied the position that should've been yours. That is why I hope that you will come with us peacefully, that you will help be a voice of reason for the others who are not so astute and good-natured.”
Don Quintana scowled for a moment, eyes sliding back to Kaspar. “And what about this one?” he pointed with his chin. “What say you? Are you and this other boy who looks exactly like you on the same page?”
As Felix spoke, the Vice Warden’s attention on him, Kaspar would offer a steadying and confident gaze. It was one of his greatest virtues, this control and confidence—his ability to believe he could handle whatever might come. The noble hoped, in that moment, he could gift this same confidence to the Afortunado.
“This one,” he said, laying a hand upon his chest at Quintana’s query, “Does not wish to harm anyone.” Anticipating the man would center a glare on him, Kaspar’s eyes would meet it unflinchingly. “I cannot say I know your character. But I can say that my motives are to support those who have been wronged here—I do not have anything personal to gain here, or any reason to deviate from what we’re here for.”
His voice was softer now, the hard edge bleeding out of it as Kaspar tried to help talk the Eagle down. His mind picked at the words of Don Quintana, particularly the strike at his and Felix’s shared looks, but Kaspar was smart enough to know that this moment was not one for asking these questions.
The... steadiness of this mere boy was admirable, Juan-Manuel had to admit, but he had been a watcher of people and of their lies for long enough to catch the very subtle shift in the student's demeanour. His interest had been piqued, as had the Vice Warden's. “You would appear to have me dead to rights,” the older man replied, holding his hands out, manner becoming easier. “I will not resist you so long as you do not give me reason to, though…” he trailed off for a moment, brow furrowed, head tilted quizzically. “I suppose you will have to find someone to complete these morning rounds.” He began walking, nonthreateningly, towards the boy from the school. “Before I simply give myself up, however, I'd like to know the name of the person I'm entrusting my wellbeing to.”
Kaspar felt relief course through him at the Vice Warden’s seeming surrender, though he did not relax. He would not harm Quintana, but neither would the boy fully trust him. As the Eagle approached him, the student sent a look towards Felix, the slightest of eyebrows raised—a question of the trustworthiness of this man, and an admission of Kaspar’s suspiciousness. Don Quintana had a point, after all… They'd best be on the same page.
“Kaspar,” he replied to the Vice Warden’s question. He contemplated, for a moment, giving his full name—but he wasn’t sure that the Don would not harbor resentment for this day. If he did… it was likely best not to give him a direct line to the Elstrøm family.
Juan-Manuel smiled invitingly. In truth, the canned expression was something he had practiced many thousands of times, and it was done to cover the flash of disquiet that he felt when he heard the youth's name.
Seven years ago, he had been senior clerk and he remembered the file well: the family's need for secrecy and complete erasure. It had leaked to him how they'd found a replacement for a boy named... Kaspar. By Dami himself, the Vice Warden thought. Now here they stand across from each other.
He did not let the pause ring out in silence. “Please, lead the way,” Juan Manuel said quietly. There was yet more to say, but it could be said better at another time. “I place my wellbeing in your hands.” It was, in truth, Kaspar - the replacement Kaspar - who led him there, the original, discarded one struggling with the stairs. How easily he could've broken free and run for it, but he had felt the flow of energies that were people outside and knew such an action for futility if not even fatality.
He had one last thing to say, though, in a moment when it was just him and the second Kaspar. “Before we part, boy, I recommend you come speak to me when you have a moment. There is something I have learned that you - and you alone - should know.”
Kaspar’s focus remained on the Vice Warden as they descended the staircase, though a small amount of it was spared to keep Felix in mind, in case the Afortunado seemed to struggle too much. As they reached the ground floor, still needing to delve further into the dungeons, the noble turned to his partner. “One of us should let the others know we’re done, and make sure the children are still safe. You’ve got a much farther reach; if someone needs help, you’ll know earlier than I would,” he stated. He hoped Felix would understand what he did not say out loud.
If I leave and Quintana tries something, I might not know you need help.
There was also some concern that the tethered would struggle with the stairs, though it wasn’t Kaspar’s primary reason for suggesting Felix go to the others. Whether or not the boy agreed to go, Kaspar would continue down into the dungeons, ever wary of the Eagle who followed him.
He turned as Juan Manuel spoke of something he needed to know. Crimson eyes stirred in curiosity; the knowledge could be bait, but knowledge was also power. Even if it seemed dangerous, Kaspar could choose whether or not to use it and share it, so long as he had it. Trying to keep his voice level, the noble asked, “How much time do I need? This moment seems as good as any other, Don Quintana.”
“Seven years ago, when I was still the head clerk here, I processed new applications coming in.” Juan-Manuel's lips tightened and his head hung momentarily, but only that long. “Depressing business.”
His voice sunk even lower, then, so that Kaspar would've had to strain to hear it. “I wonder if you have not already sensed it,” he continued, pausing for a loaded moment. They pushed the door ajar and were outside now. The sky was grey with clouds, but the heat was as searing as ever. Birds chirped and chittered nervously. “Seven years ago, I processed the arrival of a boy from Helbahn,” the Vice Warden stated factually, clasping his hands behind his back. “He is behind us now. His name was Kaspar.”
“I wonder if you have not already sensed it.”
Something in Kaspar twisted, harsh and cold against the inside of his breastbone. There was something he suspected, but could not put words to—something that his subconscious mind knew, but refused to share. And it was painful in his chest, this hidden knowledge, so much so that, for but a moment, the boy considered rejecting this conversation. Outright denying the Vice Warden an opportunity to continue, to share this knowledge.
It was such an uncharacteristic feeling that Kaspar shuddered visibly, the uncertainty crossing his face. But a beat later his features hardened, jaw setting determinedly. If this knowledge frightened him… Then he needed to know it.
“He is behind us now. His name was Kaspar.”
The boy froze, stock-still. His breathing was light, but intentional and measured. He closed his crimson eyes, trying to ignore the way his hands shook as he clenched them tightly against his side. He said nothing, but his mind was racing.
Kaspar is dead. (You are Kaspar)
He died eight years ago. (So did Alaric Weber)
They wouldn’t have done this. (They’re just like all the rest)
But they wanted me. (Did they?)
They wanted me.(Are you sure?)
They. Wanted. Me.
(He. Isn’t. You.)
It didn’t make sense. And it made all the sense in the world. His mother hadn’t wanted him, because he was a kind of defective that she couldn’t fix. But the Elstrøm’s could.
Nothing could fix the Tethering. No amount of money or power could undo the disease. It killed far younger, and few wanted to marry into families with Tethered, nevermind to a Tethered individual themselves. To continue the family name with only one child… They’d stand a much better chance with a healthy heir. And if a replacement was practically dropped into their laps…
White-hot anger bubbled up in Kaspar (Alaric’s?) chest and he took several steps back from the Vice Warden. He felt that itch to amass power, the urge to draw—to defend himself, or to hurt someone else?—but resisted hard against it, knowing that he couldn’t lose control in front of Quintana.
Whether or not what the man said was true, it wasn’t like he could confront the Elstrøm’s now. If Felix really was the true Kaspar, he deserved the chance to know—and the boy now known as Kaspar would not withhold that from him. But they were in the middle of a rebellion that needed to succeed, and it could not be jeopardized like this. There was too much at stake, for far too many people.
It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to force the anger down and ground himself again. Though it was unlikely that the Vice Warden had not noticed his distress, he would continue on anyway. Voice tight, he finally replied, “Thank you for sharing this information with me. I’m unsure as to how I can fully trust your word, or how you could prove it, but… I appreciate that you have given it to me.”
He turned back towards the Red Tower, suddenly feeling sick of the clinging heat, and led Don Quintana back into its walls, towards the basement where he was to be left. He hoped, based on the lack of disastrous sounds from other parts of the Refuge, that Zarina and Luisa had succeeded as well—he had faith in the Virangish girl, and trusted an Afortunado to have strength, but knew the Eagles possessed quite some power of their own.
As the pair descended, he steadied his breathing, working hard to push everything he’d just learned to the back of his mind. It would only be an interference, to think on it now… But he suspected he might be drawing more than a single fucking turtle on the wall by the time all this was over.
Everything that Juan-Manuel had said was true. He wished this fool boy well in sorting out his feelings but, right now, the youth was an enemy. The Vice Warden would not allow himself to be locked in some dungeon like a common thief. He had always tried to be fair with his charges, but there were those who could not accept that the gods had cursed them and that their misfortune was not the work of their fellow men. There was a good chance that he would be a target. There was a good chance that they would come to kill him.
Kaspar was distracted. He could see the young man struggling to keep his composure. He would be less perceptive than usual. Heart hammering, Juan-Manuel went for it. This would be his last, best chance. They were just heading down the steps when he started to fill the youth’s mind with soporifics. It is just the emotion overwhelming you, boy, he willed, the mental exhaustion. He saw Kaspar stagger, stumble, and the Vice Warden pummeled him, then, flooding him with a cocktail that would render him unconscious in seconds. Already, he was turning and running. If he could make it out into the courtyard, he would leap the walls and run. The heat was not so bad today and there would be rain. He could collect it and drink. He could make it to Hosta by nightfall.
Try as he might to keep the stray thoughts out of his mind, Kaspar had never been trained for this. He’d barely been allowed to think about the boy who had once been him, much less process it—and everyone had told him that boy was dead. The emotions were heavy in his mind, and exhausting to manage. Moreso than the boy might’ve expected, as he felt the tiredness drag suddenly at his eyelids.
A beacon of awareness struck as he felt one knee buckle, alarms sounding in his head even as he felt gravity pulling him downwards. Bastard… floated through his mind in the rapidly-approaching fog of unconsciousness, and Kaspar thought he heard the footsteps of the Vice Warden, but it did not matter. Still… there was a mission to be done here. Feeling the flood of soporifics in his mind, he grabbed onto the internal chemistry and fought back, stopping what little he could. It wouldn’t be enough to neutralize entirely, but if he could just stay awake—
With a crack of sheer pain, he landed on the spiraling steps, the impact vibrating across his cheekbones from his nose, the bone and cartilage breaking with the pressure. He lost focus on his Gift for a moment, his fight against the Vice Warden’s attack slipping, but the pain itself seemed to keep him awake just enough as his blood dripped onto the stone.
Daylight broke before the Vice Warden’s eyes, causing him to blink for a moment. He stumbled on the last step and it was a damned good thing that he did, as a brick came flying at his head and missed it by so little that he could feel the wind scream past him. Mierda! his mind screamed. The boy was not holding back… or was it the other boy? Juan-Manuel did not know or care. He simply ran, gathering more kinetic force and pushing further, faster. He could feel a huge buildup of energy behind him and, instinctively, he shot off to the side as the ground erupted to swallow him. Felix was behind him, hop-running on his crutches, furious but losing ground. The outer walls were within sight. The Vice Warden began gathering energy for a final leap to freedom.
He stumbled up the steps, blood still spilling freely from his nose and coating the boy’s shirt, for the second time in two days. His eyes, bleary in the sunlight, still caught the form of Vice Warden Quintana as he dodged an attack from the ground, rushing toward the outer wall. Reaching out with his own Gift, Kaspar tried to make the wall itself a hostile force, rough-hewn bricks materializing and thrusting from it at the man—and, as if to prove his earlier statement that he too had power, the Eagle evaded that attack as well. His attention seemed to turn from his escape, much to Kaspar’s surprise, as he spun to face the two teenagers.
It only took a heartbeat for Kaspar to realize Quintana intended to attack, feeling the Vice Warden trying to shift the chemicals of his clothing. The barest of stings on his skin moved the boy into action. Fibers vanished as he drew in the potential energy, converting in his blood and shoving outward rapidly as a wave of force, tearing the rest of the ragged cloth away from his flesh and casting it to the stone beneath them.
Kaspar caught up to Felix quickly, and passed him, but Quintana was running again, evidently having thought better of trying to fight. The Vice Warden leapt over the wall and landed on the other side, his escape seemingly complete, but he was still well within striking distance, could still be sensed by his energy, and Felix had noticed something “He always dodges to the right!” he shouted at his doppelganger. “I spook, you shoot?”
Thinking back to their previous attacks, Kaspar realized the Afortunado was correct. Setting his jaw against the feeling of slick blood on his teeth, he nodded. “Good eye,” he replied, adding, “I’m ready when you are. Let’s make quick work of it, before someone gets a mind to interfere.” He wondered if anyone else could sense them now, but didn’t want to bring the likes of Jocasta out—she could handle it, but things might turn messy. And he wasn’t sure what the teasing rights were in this scenario, but he didn’t want to find out.
Felix didn’t draw everything that he had. He didn’t need to. Instead, he focused on the wavelengths of visible light and created a bright flash just ahead and to the left of Vice Warden Quintana. All at once, he released the energy. “Now!” he shouted, as the apparition appeared. It was all up to faith.
“Where’s Willa?”
Katka—Mom—smiled at him, something sweet in her eyes. She took a few steps closer, bending slightly to be eye-to-eye with the twelve year-old. “Your father and I are teaching you today,” she explained, voice honey-sweet in a way that used to make him feel sick when he first arrived in Wentoft.
The Marquis was setting up the last of a few targets across the yard, but glanced up towards his wife and son. “It’s something special to our family,” he called, smiling brightly. “Our” didn’t even stick against his tongue the way it still did Kaspar’s, sometimes.
Twisting his fingers and glancing around as though his tutor might appear if he looked hard enough, the boy questioned, “What’s so special about it?”
Katka’s ever-present smile didn’t even shift as she chuckled. “Well, the Elstrøm’s are the ones who created it,” she offered.
“It’s also specifically designed to be used by two people,” Arvid added, walking across the grass towards them. “One person can only do half of it. And that half can work, but it will never be as strong as both halves together.” He stopped in front of Kaspar, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s both the Storm and the Stream—just as we are.”
As Felix prepared to make his move, Kaspar had been pulling. He focused on where he knew the Vice Warden would be, building up for the one move Willa had never taught him—Voltaic Consecration. A technique that had been honed by the Gifts of many Elstrøm’s to pull on their namesake, despite the more chemical nature of their lineage. Though he was not skilled enough to add the secondary effects, he could twist the chemicals of his target down to the very nerves—lighting him up with searing-white pain like electricity with none of the current, developed to tactfully render a target into submission with the intensity of a damageless pain.
One moment, the Vice Warden was exulting in his newfound freedom. The next, there was a flash of lightning and he was rolling to the side with almost preternatural reflexes. It should have worked. The bolt had not hit. Yet, pain split his being nonetheless: excruciating pain. He felt the edges of his vision darken and his head swam. Then, more pain on its heels. The world disappeared.
Felix knew that attack. He knew, instinctually, from somewhere. Kaspar had not finished it with the obvious kinetic thrust, but with a chemical pain that simulated a lightning strike… the one, true way that the combination was supposed to be finished. How the Afortunado knew this, he was unsure, but Kaspar had known. Outside, the Vice Warden collapsed, and both took a moment to confirm that he was unconscious. Then, the one who had lived inside the walls of the refuge turned to the other who looked so much like him. “You’re… from Helbahn, right?” he asked with some hesitation. His heart was pounding. He had a theory and he wanted to - no, had to test it out.
Kaspar turned toward Felix, the heaving of his chest already lessening as their quarry lay unmoving. He hadn’t expected the Tethered to know that move—hadn’t even questioned it in the moment, it felt so right. He wasn’t supposed to remember anything of his past, and this was supposed to be a conversation for later. Nevertheless… He would not lie to the boy who had owned this life first. He nodded slowly, once, and breathed, “...Yes.”
Felix turned pensive. Soon, of course, they would have to go and haul the Vice Warden in, and Kinetic magic was not a main school for either. “Is there… a place near your home with… three red maple trees, alone on a plain?”
“I know the trees you’re talking about,” Kaspar murmured, fighting to keep the words from sticking in his throat. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply for a moment to push away the surge of emotions—the anger and empathy, the fear and mistrust. His crimson eyes opened, looking to meet Felix’s, and he sighed. Softly, the boy offered, “The Vice Warden told me something. If what he said is true… Felix, I know your family. I would not keep that knowledge from you, if you wish to have it.”
“And we are the same age, I believe,” the Afortunado added, slowing. “Kaspar,” he began, voice trembling, “Are you my brother? My twin brother?” There was a look in his eyes that hovered somewhere between hopeful and terrified.
Something in his chest ached terribly at Felix’s question. Kaspar had spent eight years struggling with the concept of parents who didn’t want him, of a family where he could never belong. A part of him wanted so desperately for what Felix said to be true—to be his brother, his kin. Something more important and less painful than his replacement. He had to stifle a sob, then, as the bitterness crept up his throat. They’ve done nothing but break us both, haven’t they?
Finally, voice shaking, he said, “No. I’m… I’m not your brother. But I will be, if you want me to. I… I know your family. I’ve come from your family.” He glanced away, working his jaw, his eyes growing damp with tears. When he looked back to Felix’s face, they were slipping silently down his cheek. “You didn’t deserve this. No one here did, but… You’re the only one I can truly apologize to. And I’m sorry for what they’ve done.”
The whiplash from hope to… whatever this was hit Felix and it left him dull and uncomprehending, almost as if some secret compartment in his mind had opened up and sucked it in to keep the rest of him safe. He blinked and stumbled, catching himself on his crutches. Defective, he thought, steadying himself and gripping the handles of these damned sticks that let him manage something like walking, still, for perhaps another year. “I…” he stuttered. “I… they…” The words wouldn’t come out. His face pulled in on itself, eyes narrowing in incredulity. “They… replaced me?” he choked out. His eyes searched Kaspar up and down for a moment. “With you?”
He had to sit. He could not stand. Damn the uprising. Damn everything else. This was too much for Felix, who now reflected upon the bitter irony of the name he’d been given here. He found a stone bench and stumbled over, collapsing onto it. Absently, he unlocked the knees on his leg braces as the sky began to rumble. Quintana was out there still, sleeping. Luisa was with Zarina, dealing with Mirabel. It all seemed so important and so… distant. One of his crutches clattered to the ground even as he settled the other against a narrow pillar. “You owe me nothing…brother,” he said distractedly. He swallowed, regaining a bit of himself, of his focus. He forces the shadow of a smile. “Though maybe you should’ve been named Felix.” His fists clenched around the loose fabric of his pants, right around the knees, but he couldn’t feel them from the other end. The numbness was spreading ever upward. Luisa, who he’d met two weeks after arriving, playing tag near the Great Naranja, had already given up on walking. And now this person enjoys the life that was supposed to be mine. His eyes began to harden with bitterness, but he held it back and stopped them. He was a good person. He would be a good person. Kaspar - my name - Kaspar was not to blame. He was either some poor orphan who’d have been insane to turn down the offer, else he’d had parents who had given up on him.
Felix took a deep breath, and then a second. He looked without fear, jealousy, anger, or any emotion upon this other self that existed mere feet from him. “In truth, I fear we are both victims.” He made a temporary peace with it. There was so much else to do. He would not let this sabotage by the Vice Warden destroy the plan that he had spent the past two years of his life living for. He would not let that endanger Luisa, or Amanda, Oscar, Carlos, or Marceline. He realized that Kaspar’s uncharacteristic break in concentration was because Quintana had revealed the secret to him. “We will sort this out later.” He shook his head, still struggling to process it all. “And I will take your part should it ever prove necessary. However, I fear we must first haul that disgusting man to a dungeon, where he belongs.” Felix motioned with his chin in the direction where Vice Warden Juan-Manuel Quintana Rojas lay unconscious in the sand.
Kaspar tried to stay steady as Felix pieced through the rubble of their interwoven lives, finding the connections he was too much of a coward to voice. He remembered every single lesson Willa had ever taught him about breath control and meditation and emotional suppression—and at least she had never known he was a replacement, or that the real Kaspar wasn’t even fucking dead.
And there was so much anger even in that simple realization, that so many people had lied to him, even if she hadn’t. Part of him wondered what would’ve happened if the Marquis and his wife had cared enough to keep the child they had actually borne. Would his own mother have decided to keep him, with no one else to pawn him off on? Or would she have abandoned him as far away as she could manage and left him to die? Was his life better for Felix’s abandonment?
It doesn’t fucking matter, he thought, shaking the considerations away. Whatever choice he would make with the knowledge he had now… It was already done. And Felix was struggling now to understand—to cope. Something in Kaspar wanted nothing more than to sit beside Felix—beside this boy who was somehow closer to kin than anyone he’d talked to in eight years—and offer him some measure of comfort. But he kept a respectful distance, not wanting to insert himself into the boy’s life any more than he already had been.
He laughed, the noise mostly hollow, at Felix’s suggestion that he should’ve taken the name instead. “I would’ve preferred to keep Alaric, if they’d’ve let me,” he responded tiredly, though not without amusement. He remained still as the momentary silence stretched between them. As he noticed Felix begin to take steadying breaths, Kaspar realized he should do the same. Willa would’ve smacked him already, firm and caring upside the head, for not thinking to do it earlier.
He had to breathe through his mouth, for the first time in several minutes being reminded of the state of his likely broken nose. He reached a hand up, wiping the blood away from his lips, though some still trickled down. It would need to be fixed, but that required more focus than Kaspar thought he could muster in the moment, and there were other things to attend to. He nodded at Felix’s words, turning towards the Vice Warden. “Whatever questions you have, I’ll be willing to answer,” he offered, before continuing, “But, for now… Do you think rolling him down the stairs is too petty?”
Involuntarily, Felix let out a laugh. “You’ve been spending too much time around Consuela, brother.” He paused, brow furrowed, for a moment. ”Err… Jocasta,” he corrected. Gathering his crutches and locking his knee braces, the tethered stood. With a smirk, he shot a look at Kaspar. “And to answer your question, no.” The smirk grew into a wicked grin. Momentarily, he reached in his pocket for some chicle. “I don’t think so at all.” He popped some of the gum into his mouth. “‘Sides, I still owe the fucker for naming me Felix. Damned sick sense of irony”. He shook his head and took a step, pausing just as he was about to draw some kinetic energy and tuck the chicle away. “Oh hey, you want some gum?”
Kaspar nodded, quite satisfied with Felix’s answer. “Maybe I have been spending too much time around Jocasta, but when she’s right, she’s right,” he responded, a smirk all too similar to the other boy’s pulling at his lips. “It really isn’t our fault if he fought back and we couldn’t keep a hold of him, right?” he asked, glancing over at Felix.
“We tried our darndest to be gentle, I tells ya!” his doppelganger responded.
“Definitely no harboured resentment here,” Kaspar added. “None whatsoever.” Glancing to the chicle Felix offered him, the student tilted his head in consideration. “I’ve never had any—as long as it isn’t drugged like Jocasta says all the food is. I think I’ve had enough of that for today,” he replied, holding a hand out to grab some of the offered substance.
Almost absently, Felix popped a piece into his brother’s hand. He’d decided that was the way that he was going to think of Kaspar. It made things easier and it made sense, as much as any of this could. Besides, he was a good guy. “Healthy as a fuckin’ horse,” he confirmed, “and, lemme tell ya, if you’d have thought of drugging the gum before this fiasco, you wouldn’t have a busted nose and no shirt right now.” A shadow of concern fluttered across his face for a moment. “Quintana’s addicted to the stuff. He got me started on it. Anyways…” Felix began drawing in Arcane energy and a bit of Magnetic since a thunderstorm was right around the corner and the air was filled with ambient charge. “We should probably dump his carcass in the basement now. Just… lemme go through his pockets before we roll him down the stairs. He’s always got the best stuff.” Felix paused. “By which, I mean important documents, keys, that kinda thing…”
Kaspar placed the chicle in his mouth, for a moment observing Felix quietly before chewing it, trying not to make his clear inexperience obvious. He walked towards Quintana’s body, toeing it with a boot to make sure he was still out. It would seem that he’d been the one to underestimate them in the end—and for that, they would rob him of the contents of his pockets and whatever dignity he had left. “If someone had mentioned he was addicted to it before this fiasco, maybe I would’ve,” he retorted, voice teasing. He tried not to pay too much attention to his current appearance, despite Felix pointing it out. Damn, that was going to be a hard one to explain away.
At Felix’s suggestion, he crouched down, sticking his bloody fingers into the pockets of the Vice Warden’s clothing. He was disappointed to find only a roll of chicle, which he handed to Felix, and a few keys. He’d hoped for at least some pocket change, but supposed it wasn’t all that useful in the Refuge anyway.
Kaspar grabbed Quintana by the ankles and began pulling him towards the Red Tower with Felix’s help. It wasn’t the easiest task, but still far better than trying to subdue the man had been. Besides, rifling through his pockets and then dumping his body in the basement seemed like a strangely cathartic bonding activity for the two, after the hellstorm they’d had to deal with just minutes ago.
LOCATION: Wolfieh's Mind
Kaspar's somehow ended up shirtless and covered in blood again, and he and Felix have been emotionally traumatized to boot.
Vice Warden Quintana has been diplomatically secured. Yay!
But Vice Warden Quintana shared some juicy drama. Boo!
Kaspar isn’t Kaspar Felix is Kaspar
Vice Warden Quintana knows Kaspar-Not-Kaspar isn’t Kaspar, and knows Kaspar-Not-Felix is actually Kaspar.
Kaspar-Not-Kaspar now knows Kaspar-Not-Felix is Kaspar. (Kaspar-Not-Kaspar already knew he wasn’t Kaspar, though)
Kaspar-Not-Felix is a smart cookie and figured out that Kaspar-Not-Felix is Kaspar, which means Kaspar-Not-Kaspar is not Kaspar
Kaspar-Not-Kaspar has a lot of feelings on Kaspar-Not-Felix being Kaspar, because Kaspar-Yes-Kaspar is supposed to be dead (and he has feelings on Kaspar-Not-Kaspar not being Kaspar, but he’s had those ones for a while)
Kaspar-Not-Felix has a lot of feelings on being Kaspar-Yes-Kaspar and being replaced by Kaspar-Not-Kaspar, because Kaspar-Not-Felix is still quite alive.
Nevertheless, Kaspar-Not-Felix has decided to think of Kaspar-Not-Kaspar like a brother, and now Kaspar-Not-Felix and Kaspar-Not-Kaspar are bonding by mugging Don Quintana's unconscious body and rolling him down the stairs like the bastard he is.
After an awkward moment, One eased up. "Apologiesss," he offered, and this was followed by a symphony of apology from the others, including Nine. "We had received a notification that there were othersss in the caves: pirates. It did not come from people whom we trussst."
"It did not," someone echoed.
"A notification."
"Piratesss."
"We don't trussst them." The last was hissed by Nine with uncharacteristic venom. "Kassseels!" A handful of others repeated after her with equal intensity.
"In any event," said One, "I must be on a call with Kassseel One now." He looked distinctly unhappy about it.
"Kassseel One," the others growled.
"Feel free to enjoy the ressst of your dinner."
Nine was quick to distract. She eventually coaxed her sister Ten out of the doorframe and the two of leaned easily against each other, tails flicking back and forth, the elder teasing the younger about her hesitancy to emerge. There were plenty of questions to ask and answer and the sirrahi seemed alright with doing so.
1- "So are you guys from this world?" - Yesss, yes we are, human! 2- "So I noticed your names have a first, middle, and last structure. First is your name you are referred to be differentiated from your middle and last, your Middle seems to be a number which you each use to call each other and even those you are close to, and the last is probably a family name. What does the Number mean?" - Aaah, you asssume too much, Violence Stick. The first is our brood name. Each group of hatchlings has one. The sssecond is the position in which we hatch. The final name is our given name, but it is only used by non-siblings who are close to usss. otherwise, we use our Brood names and numbers. 3- "So Nine I noticed you enjoyed the Black Pudding a lot. Do you like the blood taste? I personally don't like it much, but it's what I know some people like it for." - Yesss. The blood is ssso yummy! Thanks for introducing me to Enthish cuisine. It is so good! 4- "So you talked about the reason why you are down here is because of some All-Knower. Who is this All-Knower?" - It is not 'sssome' All-Knower, human! Have ressspect. The all-knower is ancient. They have been with us sssince the dawn of our societal memory and gifted us a great many things. They know all, often before it happens. They use the sssacred algorithms. 5- "So do you guys normally wear clothing?" - Yesss. What sort of sssavage would not? 6- "How good of swimmers are you guys? I know some snakes are good at swimming, but I'm unsure how that translate upwards in scale." - I am not a snake, sssilly Desmond. But yess, we are... probably as good at ssswimming as we are terrestrially. 7- "So your music seems very different than ours, I also noticed many instruments I've never heard. Are those ones you invented yourselves?" - YASSS! I even play the electric guitar. Not all are instruments, though. Many sssounds are generated by computers. It is a concept that I could not explain to you. They are, in short electronic brains, I sssuppose one could say. 8- "How it is so cool in here? I understand if it is technology and you don't wanna talk about it, but I'm curious because of where we are it would be much warmer" - Caves are cool, Desmond. We are deep underground. That isss the revolutionary technology. 9- "Do you guys have your own language system or is it Avincian?" - We ssspeak whatever the most common tongue isss among other ssspecies. For some time, it has been Avincian. 10- "So how does your reproductive organs work? Can you mate with others like Humans and Yasoi? Or is it 100% within your species?" - I know I am beautiful, Desmond, but I will not mate with you. bessides, we are so far apart on the evolutionary tree that it would be imposssible. Wait... you guysss haven't discovered evolution yet. 11- "Do all of your species live underground? Or do you all live in the little mesh in the ceiling? Hehehe I'm joking about that" - But are you, really? At leassst a tiny part of you thought it. Anywaysss, we mostly live on various islands and in a homeland that you humans and yasssoi have not discovered. 12- "Is there a way for me to maybe, possibly, with permission, somehow, pretty please have a way to listen to music like the way we did down here but in a portable form?" - We shall sssee. Maybe. I could get in trouble. Trypano: "What is your people's belief regarding Death, the cessation of organic function in a sentient being?" - We do not like it. Each thought processs is unique and valuable and offers insssight into the sentient condition. We have conducted resssearch into its cure. Yet, it is sssadly a necessary process within the current paradigm. The carrying capacity of thisss world - how much life it can support - is finite. There are also those whose actions and mindsssets make their lives a threat to other lives.
Then, came Ingrid's questions about... sirrahi culture and romance:
"What are your favorite genre of music?"
"What do you guys fine attractive?"
"Do you kiss?"
"Do you also have trashy romance novels?"
"What's your favorite food?"
At Ingrid's first question, Nine pursed her lips quizzically. "Electronic, mostly," she replied.
"Electronic," echoed some of her siblings enthusiastically.
"Mostly," deadpanned Ten.
"Though I'm not sure how much that might mean to you," the sirrahi clarified. "Think of it as music made using machines instead of instruments."
"Machines."
"Instead of instruments."
The Eskandishwoman asked further questions, and her new... friend answered as best she could. Apparently, nice arms were attractive on a man, sirrahi did kiss, in a sense, and sirrahi romance novels were never trashy but, instead, works of art. There was a pause. "Ingrid?" Nine asked, tilting her head to the side with a cheeky smile, but then closing her mouth, wary of making the humans nervous.
"Ingrid," said another sirrahi.
"Ingrid."
"Ingrid."
"If I did not know any better, I would think that you are 'hitting on' me." She tried the odd human phrase out and then simply couldn't stop a big snakey grin from spreading across her face. "But, um... my favourite food isss... right here in this room, actually. You guessss!" she squealed.
"You guess!"
"Right here!"
Ingrid giggled a bit and looked at Nine. "Well you see, Eskandish people do love getting to know each other through more intimate means."
Both had initially been joking but, after a moment of consideration, were intrigued. Simply put, the sequence led to... what may have been the world's very first human-sirrahi female-female interspecies kiss. "Not bad," Nine mused as they pulled apart. "Does not hurt that you are pretty."
"Not bad," the other sirrahi echoed, and this drew more of them out. They surrounded the humans inquisitively. "I want to kiss a human!" one of her brothers exclaimed, but she shot him down. "I want the yasoi!" said another, and Ismette looked... less so insulted than fairly open to it, actually.
Long story short, it was a good evening, though Penny never made an appearance. The Diskas promised them an escort close to the surface in the morning, though it was impossible to say what time it was beneath the ground like this. When they were led to their rooms down a hallway similar to the one they'd been in, care was taken to keep their prying eyes away from technological secrets. The issue was that it wasn't so much 'rooms' as 'a room'. There was a single enormous circular bed in the middle, its mattress made not of hay nor down, but of some unknown substance that was at once gloriously soft and perfectly supportive. With a final wave from Nine, the group was left to their own devices. Ismette threw herself back onto the bed, sighing. "You can all sleep on the floor," she teased, "I claim it!" and she began undressing.
"So you just gonna strip?" Benny interjected.
"Pretty much," Ismette replied. "I sleep in the buff, you know."
Benedetto's eyes wandered momentarily to her chest, still covered in a light chemise, but he quickly pulled them away.
"I'm just fucking with you," she laughed, "Ipte! Don't get a stiffy." Dressed in something like a nightgown but too short to be one, she sat up and swept some hair over a shoulder. One way or another, the group found sleep that night, of varying quality.
It was difficult to tell what time it was, but Ismette did not feel rested when she awoke to find Nine gently shaking her. The sirrahi seemed to have recently-dried tears in her eyes. "Friend," she said, and there was nobody there to echo her. It felt... oddly lacking.
Ismette blinked. "What's up?"
"You are naked."
"Aw shit." The yasoi covered herself up.
"Ismette."
"Yeah, what's going on?"
"We have not been totally honessst with you."
"No shit."
Nine hung her head for a moment, but then she continued. She seemed to have some fire in her eyes. "There is a war among my people right now: it is not a 'hot war' but a 'cold one'. The other group here: the Kassseels, they are from the other ssside. They view your peoples as 'lesssser races' and -"
"What are you trying to justify, Nine?" There was no annoyance or accusation in Ismette's voice. She simply wanted to know.
Nine's face became serious. She expelled air from her nose. "Trypano mentioned a woman with one leg. The Kasseels have her. They have blocked off her magic and they are going to kill her."
There was more. Nine was an empathetic being. Ismette could sense it. She could also sense that something further was wrong, even without the Gift. "What else, Nine?"
The Sirrahi worked her jaw back and forth and looked away for a moment. "It wasn't humans," she said, in a quiet, angry voice.
"What wasn't humans?" the yasoi prodded, sitting up, careful not to disturb the others. Desmond was rolling over, though, Trypano was already sitting up, and Ingrid had opened her eyes. Benedetto was sprawled across half the bed, still asleep.
"Who killed my sissster." Nine clenched and unclenched her fists. "It was the Kasssseels." Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. "They murdered her for going up to the surface and made it look like the humansss to cover up their crime. We have jussst learned this." The sirrahi took a handful of deep breaths, addressing everyone now that they were awake. "I am sssory." she bowed low. "I do not want to drag you into my fight. Thisss is why I talked to Ismette." She turned to the yasoi. "I know how you feel about violence. I am angry. Thisss is more anger than I have ever felt and I do not know what to do about it." She was still wearing her 'hair', and she tossed it over a shoulder. "I hate them!" she hissed. "For a sirrahi to kill in cold blood isss.... unthinkable. We have... weapons for our protection, but we are not much in the habit of using them, not the civilized people on my ssside anyways."
"So what are you saying?" Benny croaked, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A dark sort of light came into them. "You want us to kill those fuckers for you?" He grinned.
"Why are you happy about death!?" Nine squeaked.
"Won't you be happy when the Kasseels are dead?" he replied, tilting his head to one side.
"I do not know," replied the the sirrahi anxiously. "I do not know what I will feel, only that I cannot jussst let them.... get away with this!"
Benedetto stood, his face serious for once, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "That's called revenge, Nine, and it's something I'm very familiar with."
"It's a dark emotion," warned Ismette. "Acting upon it rarely leaves one better off."
"You don't care about Penny, then?"
"You don't," Ismette shot back, and a mix of the others' and Nine's intervention was required to cool things off.
"For what it is worth, Ismette," the sirrahi remarked, "One agreed with you. He wanted to negotiate with the Kasseels, but his blood runs too cold and he does not see that you cannot negotiate with people who murder your sister." She regarded the others. "I believe that this 'revenge' is something I need, and I cannot let anything happen to the friend of my friends. The Kasseels have killed enough."
"So uh... one small problem," observed Benedetto. "We don't have the Gift here."
"No, you don't," admitted Nine, furrowing her brow. "Not in here, and you won't in their base either, not unless you shut down or destroy the emitters. I will seek to do that. In the meantime, I mentioned that we still had weapons." She nodded matter-of-factly, drawing up taller on her coils. "I can help you save your friend. You can help me have revenge."
This was done without the approval of One, Two, Three, Six, and Eight. Ten slithered up alongside them, as well as Four and Five. They made their way stealthily through the hall. "The Kasseels are many," Ten said with concern. "They use artificial means to increase their numbers. There are twenty of them in this little outpost."
"Twenty of them," echoed Five.
"Artificial means," said Four and Nine.
Then, they were in the armoury, Nine having pressed some strange species of card to the lock mechanism in order to open it. The variety and advancement of the weaponry present was breathtaking. Desmond, in particular, had ascended to fifth heaven. The five humans and yasoi equipped themselves with a form of armour known as bulletproof vests, and the following weapons:
Nine took a submachine gun, a pistol, and a sword. Her brothers and sister armed themselves too, and all learned that, just because the sirrahi abhorred violence did not mean that they didn't train - extensively - in the use of weapons. "Now," their host said, screwing a silencer onto her pistol. "Let usss go: quickly and quietly, like a human ssstriking in the night."
"Quickly and sssilently," echoed Four and Five. "Like a human."
"That does not work so well with actual humans here, sissster," observed Ten.
Nine blinked. "No, I sssupose it does not." She turned to the group. "Sssorry, humans." She blushed.
They slipped out through a small side door, with another one of those card taps and a blinking light that went from red to green. Then, they were in a long, hollowed out hallway of stone, hewn from the rock and evidently quite old. There were occasional faint lights along its length, and then a great steel door at the end. Nine fished a key from her pocket instead, and it rattled in the lock as the door opened. "Keep your eyes sharp and your witsss about you," she warned. "We are in the cave now. It is not our friend."
"In the cave now."
"Wits about you."
"Not our friend."
Nine had given them each a thing called a flashlight and, as the five youths left the underground compound of the Diskas, they could feel the Gift returning to them. They could feel the magnetic currents flowing, as if in controlled lightning inside these devices. The lead sirrahi twisted back at them knowingly and smiled. "I hope for the day when your peoplesss can use these freely." Her siblings repeated after her in nervous chorus.
They crept, then, with guarded silence, through the dark caverns, and the smell of sulfur and a faint heat grew stronger. Nine was reaching in her mouth, now, and so were her siblings. "Milking our venom," she explained in a low whisper. "We may need it."
Ten dutifully whispered a repetition. Then, they saw it in the distance: a glow, as if from some sort of artificial light. It was some thirty yards distant, around a shallow bend. Desmond held up a hand for them to stop simultaneously with Nine. "That will be their door," the latter whispered.
"Their door." Hatred had returned to her face, and determination.
"They will have a camera: one of those artificial eyes I told you about, that they can all see through if they look on a screen." The group had witnessed a screen: a wondrous device that was like an arcane illusion, but a perfect reproduction, and using a machine instead of The Gift. "When you enter, you will lose the Gift. Right now, though, can you kill that camera or use your... illusions to trick it?"
"Then," breathed Ten, drawing near to the front, "we will enter. We will go in 'hot', claim your friend, and have revenge for Seven."
"Revenge."
"Your friend."
"For Seven," they all said together, making that same strange gesture they had made hours ago when the students had first arrived. Nine held up a hand, her other cradling a gun. Five fingers stood up, then four.
The clock struck five and, across San Agustín de las Arenas, it happened. Four of the six Internal Guards, called 'owls' by the residents, collapsed where they stood: two rendered unconscious by internal chemical spells, one by a hard knock to the head, and another - notorious for his abuses of the Tethered - by having his neck slit. The remaining two slept in their rooms, off shift and having been made asleep for... much longer than was natural.
Cardinals at their posts found themselves overwhelmed by lesser Afortunado - half-trained boys and girls - but overwhelmed nonetheless, for such is the powerful advantage bestowed by the Gift. A couple tried to fight and were subdued. One took flight through the hedgerows and flowerbeds of the gardens and was unceremoniously knocked out mere feet from the Side Gate. Others protested with words, recognizing resistance as futile. Many were, in fact, already loyal to Don Escarra and this was mere formality. They nodded to the Tethered and continued to guard, in some cases turning their attention on those less cooperative.
Yet, in the tiled plaza surrounding the Great Bath, the youngest children laughed and played under the watchful eyes of Ayla, Yalen, and Jocasta, unaware of the greater context. So, too, were the handful of caretakers and crafters that moved about, attending to the children's needs.
Ayla was happily playing with the children, and despite the terror it should've inspired, they were in good spirits and had become obsessed with the Sand Wyrm which was coming. It wasn't long before Ayla started teaching them the rules of the game Dança-Alsahra. "The rules are simple, when the music is playing. Dance!", she grinned widely as she gave a little toot upon the flute, "When the música stops, stay absolutely still! This is when the Shai will come. If you move, you are out, as it gobbles you up. This is okay, you can join the wyrm and you get to cheer for your friends for them to survive, and eat them if not! Yum yum." There were looks from the caretakers as they expressed their disapproval, but the children were all for it. "Aunty Jo will play the Wyrm this time! She is super hungry.", she smiled towards her friend who had now been volunteered to take part. 'Uncle' Yalen was left with the task of trying to encourage participation in the fun and games.
Having been voluntold, Jocasta sat by the pool and did her best to turn quickly whenever the music stopped. She hated this game, poor dancer that she'd always been and even worse at stopping on the spot.
She was so distracted by her discomfort and by trying to entertain the small, chaotic humans that surrounded her that she was not paying attention to the energies around her like she usually did.
There was a scream, and a bloodied caretaker, his 'magpie' robes torn and flapping, came running. He grabbed hold of a small girl known only as Rita and held a knife to her neck. "This is rebellion!" he shouted. "Now El Patrón will come and it will be the death of you all! Where is the Warden?" he demanded further, "He has a plan!"
His eyes were wild and bugged out. He pulled the girl in closer and she kicked and wailed. "Shut up, child!" He tightened his grip. "And you," he warned the others. "Try magic and I will feel it before it works. I will strike. All of you," he finished, "you will stop this nonsense at once!"
Ayla felt her heart pounding hard, such a murderous intent was coming from him. The children were in danger. "Children, do what we have practised before. Hide under the furniture and cover your heads. Quickly now.", she continued her encouragement, strongly urging the children to adopt the duck and brace position, instructing the caretakers present for them to do the same, but there wasn't much furniture by the pool. Some of the little ones were crying and others confused as they were herded away. "Señor... we don't know what you are referring to, but these are niños, that is a niñita in your hands. Let her join the others. If you need a hostage, take me instead. Let us talk, no need for them to brought into this, they are inocente."
Jocasta groaned inwardly. The psycho in bloody robes held some stupid adorable child who had gone all lemming, and the man was shouting things and trying to get them to halt a process that they had worked for years to put into place, that could mean the salvation of their people. Fat chance of that. She took a few pushes and came to a stop when his eyes fixed on her. "Not a step more. Not a fucking step!"
"You should accept my friend's offer," the tethered warned, voice low and dangerous. "You may end up only unconscious, then." She rose from her wheeled-chair, pulling upon the Gift. "But you had best release that girl and release her now, because our plan will proceed - we will free ourselves and handle this problem that you have brought to our doorstep - whether one innocent child lives or dies by your hand."
"You are monsters! Dangerous!" He squeezed tighter. Rita, who'd been either brave or in some sort of shock up to now, began to cry.
"No, most tethered are good people," Jocasta countered, "even though you don't treat them like people." She began drawing, then, and kept drawing as only she could. "You've just managed to piss off the one real monster among us."
"Call your people off!" the crazed caretaker screamed. "I don't want to hurt her, but I will! The tethered need to be controlled."
"Wrong!" she snarled. "The tethered need to be treated like human beings!" Her eyes became dangerous. Still, the energy flowed. She was drawing slower now, making a show of it.
"I do not fear death in the service of saving lives!"
It was then that Jocasta saw that he was truly dead to sense. "Oh, I said nothing about killing you," she teased, a dark smile coming to her lips. "Have you ever heard of 'deadening' someone?" She tilted her head to one side, long blond locks sliding that way with the motion and spilling over her shoulder. When he offered no response, she continued. "It's when we use magic to destroy the nerves connecting your brain to your senses. No sight," she chirped, "no hearing, no smell, no taste, no feeling." She hissed the last few words. "But you will be very much alive, mentally, very much able to think and comprehend, and you will be left that way, indefinitely, fed through a tube in your throat."
Her eyes narrowed and she completed drawing. The children rubbed at their temples or their bellies, making whiny noises. She was sorry for it, but it was a small harm. "You will be left that way while I will be busy." She settled back into her wheeled-chair. "While you lie there, going insane, I will find your name in the registry. I will find your family, your friends, women you have loved in the past. I will hunt them down, every one of them, and they will die in agony because of you." She folded her hands upon her lap, "Or, you can just let the little girl go." Jocasta's eyes did not flinch from his. "That is my counteroffer. You have... fifteen seconds to decide."
Ayla made herself look small and non-threatening, reaching her arms out towards Rita. "The niñita is harmless and you are not a monster. You are desperate and upset, but you know better than this, this girl is harmless. Let the girl come to me and you won't be harmed, you will be allowed to leave the Refugio and return to your family. Jo, won't hurt you, she will let you leave... this is your best offer, take it now and run out of here quickly before it is gone." She reached out towards Rita again, her hands encouraging the girl to come towards her, encouraging the man to let the girl go with the promise of freedom. It would be such a simple task to allow Rita to return to Ayla, and he could leave with his life.
I have to hold it together. I have to stay calm. I can't ruin everything my friends have worked for just because it's Rita... Yalen clutched his chest and breathed deep. If he gave in to his emotions now, everything would be lost.
Jocasta's threatening display gave Yalen an opening that he quickly recognized. The moment she began drawing, he was already doing the same. It was his hope that at her full strength, Jocasta's presence would be frightening enough to keep the magpie's senses focused on her. He could already feel his head aching as she approached inhuman levels of Mana.
While Jocasta told the man all about his new life as a vegetable, Yalen stealthily acquired all the energy he needed for his little cantrip. To do so without drawing attention was difficult even with the pressure coming off of his tethered ally. He knew exactly how much he needed, but gathering the necessary power gradually without spiking too quick was a difficult feat. It was possible only because of the unique physiology the two of them shared.
If the man had immediately started cutting throats as soon as Jocasta powered up he might have left his mark, but his hesitation would cost him whatever victory he hoped for. In the middle of Jocasta’s countdown, Yalen suddenly opened the dam and sent the sliver of thermal energy he'd collected straight into the man's knife, heating it to the point where a sensitive human hand would be unable to hold it.
Driven by reflexive instinct, the caretaker's hand opened and he dropped the knife. Realizing his error, he tried to grab hold of the child tightly and make himself inseparable from her before anybody could harm him.
There was no time for patience as the man dropped the knife with a howl, grimacing as he moved to latch upon Rita. The poor girl was too scared out of her mind and she charged forward towards Ayla, not aware of line of sight, just acting frightened and running on pure impulse, not allowing others to seize the opportunity offered. However, with the threat of the knife gone, it gave Ayla and her non-lethal methods the opportunity to act, shouting out towards Rita, "Run!". With the power of the Gift, she propelled the sound like a shockwave, ripping through the air. As the bloodied caretaker moved to grab the escaping girl, the force of the impact caused Rita to lunge backwards like a cannonball, smashing into the man as he hurtled back, caught in the wave of the shockwave himself, slamming right into the wall behind them with an almighty thud. Ayla pulls with her hand as she draws heavily upon Rita's momentum, causing the girl to come to a safe stop, only feeling at worse bruised from her body being used like a weapon. Ayla made her way over to Rita, pulling the girl tightly within her arms and away from the brute. As the man recovered, there would be nothing between him and the tethered pair to use as a shield.
With the magpie now left vulnerable to direct assault, Yalen stepped forward and sent a mental probe towards the overzealous caretaker. He began drawing the metabolic energy out of the man's muscles, depriving them of the fuel necessary to sustain movement. There was a brief moment where he could feel resistance as the magpie's own Manas struggled to resist the offensive draw, but he was a low ranking peon for a reason. Even an average mage like Yalen could eventually overpower him with a strong enough focus.
"Jocasta, we've weakened him considerably. I won't object if you want to deliver punishment upon him, but... can you please take him alive? Killing him in this state would be unjust."
"Yyou ffuckn bassrdss!" The caretaker slurred, control over the muscles even in his mouth reduced. "Yyyer evn ssshhhowngg how yerdangrus!" Then, Jocasta knocked him out. She clapped her hands together twice, like the Warden always did. "Oh wow, kids!" she exclaimed, "what a performance!"
Ayla and Yalen alike could feel her flooding Rita's mind with some calming chemical magic. The blonde girl turned on the spot, offering some applause. "So dramatic!" she enthused.
Then, the caretaker sprung back up. He took a bow and it took the other two students a moment to realize that this was an illusion. Subtly, they could see Jocasta straining to maintain it for this many people from so many angles. "Nothing to be afraid of kids," she assured them, and some clapped hesitantly.
“That was just a show?" remarked one skeptically, raising an eyebrow.
“It was kinda scary," murmured another.
“It was kinda cool!" said another in indirect response, shaming her for being a 'chicken'. "I wasn't scared."
“Neither was I!"
“I wasn't."
“I saw scarier things before." There was a whole chorus of brave, approving kids now.
“Yeah, can I be the one who gets captured next time!"
"I wanna elbow Caretaker Manazes in the gut!"
"It's a performance, stupid. You can't actually hit him."
They were talking again. That was good. "Would Caretaker Manazes like to say anything?" Jocasta asked, voice sweet but strained. Her eyes pointedly found Ayla, begging for some sonic mastery. "Oh, and could anyone help us clean up our props?" she added, looking pointedly at Yalen and where the caretaker's unconscious form lay, hidden from the kids. Of course, about ten of them thrust their hands eagerly into the air, also volunteering without understanding a thing.
Ayla took the cue as she tried to recreate the performance convincingly. "It is important we practice our duck and roll technique with the sand wyrm coming. And you... the one wanting to do the elbowing", leaving enough time to enable Jo to make a characteristic more threatening stance, "Don't make me conveniently forget to call you for dinner. Now to return to my patrol.". She created the best opportunity for the illusion to disappear and then enable a more convenient distraction to allow the real magpie to disappear as well.
As Ayla distracted the kids with more games, she went about trying to secure the space to prevent any more 'drills' on their watch. She quietly spoke to the other two. "Do we need to check on the others, or do they have it in hand?".
While Ayla grabbed the kids' attention with her false impression of the caretaker, Yalen snuck over to where the actual body of Manazes was and hurriedly dragged it away. He had to use some internal chemistry on himself to get the adrenaline flowing, as he wasn't exactly suited for heavy lifting.
After passing the sleeping man to one of the more sympathetic guards just outside the plaza, Yalen returned to the poolside looking a bit haggard. His muscles were hurting now. In spite of this, he put on his best smile and kept up the facade that nothing at all was wrong.
When he returned, the kids appeared to be occupied with whatever new game Ayla came up with to distract them. Ayla and Jocasta were whispering worriedly to each other, leading him to approach the two and squeeze into the conversation.
When Ayla mentioned the others, Yalen looked at Jocasta and spoke in a hushed tone. "That magic you use. The... space-time stuff? Can you use it to observe people remotely?"
Jocasta blinked. "We... can, in theory. I haven't really mastered the art of it, though." She turned to Ayla. "And I suppose we could try to check in on the others with it." She rolled off to the side, then, a bit away from the swimming area, and furrowed her brow in concentration. Around her moved the fabric of space and time. Jocasta reached out for it, finding some of its threads, and started to reel them in. People, long gone, and even glimmers of those yet to come flashed past too quickly to make sense of them. Stone smoothed and cracked with age and wear. Trees grew, sands shifted, voices came and went.
Then, she was in the present and searching. Dully, it occurred to her that she'd forgotten to ask 'who' Yalen had wanted to observe, and she could not do it now, so intense was her concentration. She tried focusing in on the various places visually, without tearing a hole in the fabric so that she could move through to them, but it was hard, and she lost it after a moment. Jocasta blinked and shook her head, taking in and releasing a deep breath. "I fear it is not easy to look without opening a physical path and, in any case, I forgot to ask you who you'd intended to look in upon." She shrugged in apology. "We can always just reach out and sense their energies, too."
It bothered the Djamantese, though, that she could not do it. That was a skill that she would have to practice: practice until she could master it.
Yalen scratched his head nervously. "Ah, the thought merely occurred to me since Ayla showed concern for Zarina and Kaspar. We can indeed check to see if they're still alive from here, but I see there is no way to gauge the success of their mission without going there in person..."
The young priest did not have much of a respite, however. No sooner had he started to turn away than Rita was there. "Mistuh Yawen?" she prodded, tugging on his sleeve. "That wasn't juss a show, was it?" Her face was earnest and implacable. At his momentary discomfiture, she decided to provide more evidence. "Caretaker Manazes nevuh does shows fow us." She shook her head adamantly. Almost as if to underscore the loss of innocence, the sky chose that moment to open up, and the rain went quickly from a few stray drops to a downpour.
Yet, for all that Yalen found himself having to offer a mea culpa or a very convincing lie, things had come together everywhere else. The old regime fell as surely as the rain did, though precisely what shape its replacement would take remained as yet undetermined. For now, Head Ranger Escarra took Warden Ortega's place in the big chair. That he had killed Tavio was revealed only to a select few, and with mixed reactions. The remainder believed him locked in the securest part of the dungeon beneath the Red Tower. Nonetheless, Escarra remained nominally in charge.
There was much to do. All evidence of the uprising was removed, aside from its organizational results: blood scrubbed from tiles, clothes laundered, wounds bound, and the bodies of three staff who had died for various reasons sent to the crematorium along with that of one 'zero' who had breathed his last as the revolution succeeded in freeing his people.
The Tethered who had formerly assisted in bookkeeping now took over the posts of those who they'd worked for. Many of the guards who remained found little change aside from the hovering threat of the Royal Sand Wyrm, maddened by an aberration, lurking somewhere in the desert. The residents swept the endless wastes, in every direction, for hours each day with the Gift. Patrols were sent out. Yet, while it entered their senses from time to time, at the edge of their range, it had not yet approached the Refuge. The place remained true to its name, for the time being, for once.
Two days passed like this, but they were not idle ones. A portal was opened on the first to Ersand'Enise and, with Hugo's silent approval, Ysilla, fallen strangely ill, went home. Three new faces replaced her, and then more familiar ones. The recent arrivals were brought up to speed quickly and then the majority of the students set about training the Tethered to use the mana in their blood and not just to suffer from it. They lived, slept, and worked amongst them under the desert sun. The wyrm would come, sooner more likely than later, and they would need to be ready.
The third day of freedom at San Agustín de las Arenas dawned cool and windy, but it dawned with news. "Jocasta! Jocasta!" shouted Laëlle, hammering on her door. The older girl rolled over in bed and hoisted herself out of it with the Gift. "What is it?" she demanded, "to be waking me up as Ipte is barely over!" She floated over to the door and opened it.
The lord of this region, and solidly a quarter of all Torragon, was on his way. His messenger was nearing the gate and a host of some four thousand soldiers would soon follow: an apparition from the sands, but one all too real. The night guards, ebbing in energy and attention at this hour, had sensed them. This, then, must be Duque Huarcan Frannemas - El Patrón - who they had received furtive warnings about. Yet for all of these, his agenda and his purpose remained variables that they could not truly account for. He would likely not be pleased.
Still worn out from two days of using the full extent of her magic to physically restructure every aspect of the Refuge that created barriers for the non-ambulant, Jocasta stretched and rolled her neck. This was it, then: the reckoning, or at least one of two. "Go tell the others, Laëlle: students, Afortunado, Escarra, and Amanda." She was already getting herself ready, mind racing with scenarios and ideas. "Tell them to be on the staff patio overlooking the Great Bath by... 1:00 Shune, no exceptions." She was already in her day dress. Jocasta allowed herself to settle into her wheeled-chair. "I will meet them there. Time is of the essence."
1) Plenty of socialization opportunities. Did you have any ongoing storylines with refuge residents? Now is the time to wrap them up. Your fellow students are arriving! Interact with them! What new or existing dynamics will be created or revealed?
2) Training montage time! What are you teaching these people? Also, what might you learn from them?
3) What secrets of the Refuge might be revealed, IC, to your character?
4) Any long watches spent scanning for the wyrm? Realistically, this is only Tethered, though you could keep one company!
5) Is there a plan? Do you have ideas? We can gather for the meeting an collaborate on it.
6) Any fallout from the revolution: how about visiting the prisoners, Escarra's murder of Ortega coming to light, the cleanup, and more mundane matters.
Leon was elated to see his performance was bringing the fighting to a halt in the hall. Frankly, he had no expectations that such a plan would work. His companion of unfortunate political affiliations was hardly a showman. As far as his abilities were concerned, Firebrand could certainly create lights. But he lacked a sense of grace and beauty needed for such a thing. It still captured the crowd's attention, so Leon wasn’t complaining.
As the crowd gradually slowed its fighting, it became less like a writhing mass of people and weapons and easier to distinguish individual people in it. With that the consequences of the riot were unearthed, despite their cheers now the ground was littered with bodies. It wasn’t something Leon could ignore anymore. Those were dead bodies.
Leon could only continue his performance with the scene in front of him putting a strain on his plastic smile. That was until a heckler called him out and joined him on the table. Leon moved his weight accordingly so it wouldn’t tip over from the drunk’s oafish movements. The crowd was silent and Firebrand had stopped.
The man said his peace. Cursing Leon for what had happened and the people he lost to the conflict. To some degree, Leon felt responsible. He had chosen the lyre over helping these people and now those bodies on the ground paid the price. This was not just a drunken heckler, it was a man that had lost for Leon’s ambitions. Not even the stench of strong alcohol on the man could make him be dismissed.
Leon’s shoulders dropped and the performer’s mask slipped. He wasn’t Leon Solaire, Chosen of the Sun, standing on the table. Just a boy with no name disgusted by what was happening around him. The boy embraced the man knowing that he couldn’t make up for the loss but had little else to give.
Exiting the hug, he turned to the crowd. But he couldn’t face the crowd like this. He brought Leon back, the same routine just without the smile.
“Don’t let this man’s words go to waste. The disgust he feels for what happened here is real, I feel it too. Even if he points his finger in the wrong direction.”
“I was here to give you a show! But I go backstage to prepare for 5 minutes and I come back out to this!? Brother fighting brother. What are you even fighting for? To take down the nobility? Well, I don’t see any nobles in this crowd. The only thing you have to win is to be the king of a sinking ship. The ship is sinking!” With the limited space to move on the table, Leon made a few gestures and steps. But was limited by needing to counterbalance the man on the other side of it.
“I tried to stop you all, I did. But I feel that this man here is the first to finally grab the attention of you all. For that, I thank him. Those he lost can never be brought back, but we can honour their memory by stopping all this.”
Leon shifted his hands down to the surface of the table and transitioned into a one-handed handstand. Then flipped over back into a sitting position on the side of the table. It was a display of incredible balance and acrobatics. His continually serious expression betrayed the whimsicality of such a move. “I say we should put this to a vote.”
“For those who wish to continue fighting for the rule of a doomed riverboat, keep your hands down…"
"But for those who wish to be the survivors of a riverboat that almost sank, raise your hands now and help put an end to this senseless bloodshed.”
Place(s): Corridor to Upper Deck and Entertainment Lounge, Lorentine Queen Interactions: Various @Medili
"Is it not our rights to take what is owned to us from those so-called noble leeches? Indeed it is! Today, this boat! Tomorrow, the country! Down with the Rednitz!"
Pointless talk. You've got guts, I'll give you that. But even a monkey is more capable of forethought.
The type of person she hated the most was someone who lived within their assigned 'roles', never seeking better. In that respect, Carmillia felt a hint of approval towards these rioters. Of course, all of that was washed away by the imbecilic way they were going about things. Did they really think they'd make a difference like this? This was just random violence. Burning down a boat and killing a bunch of mages assigned to run the steam engines achieved nothing.
She dismissed her reprovals with a sigh and started working the cogs in her brain.
There was an oppurtunity to be harvested here.
"You might not be noble scum, but you money-grubbing merchants aren't much better. Why should we listen ta' you?"
The man speaking to her had introduced himself as Mortas Dred. The current ringleader of the rioters on the upper deck. Carmillia had approached him and curtly pointed out the futility of their actions. He didn't seem to take her words too kindly.
"Eshiran's Bones! Tell me why we shouldn't be gutting you right now instead?"
The men at his side moved to surround her. Knuckles were cracked. Sneers and menacing grins were shown. Essentially, they were doing their best impressions of third-rate thugs trying to be intimidating.
She refrained from yawning. Without batting an eye, she gave her response.
"Go ahead."
Noone moved. Carmillia's lack of concern was no doubt confusing to them. They were worried she unfazed due to the fact she was a powerful mage. It couldn't be further from reality. Her napalm canisters were used up and she was fatigued from overdrawing. She still had her trusty dagger but the odds weren't looking great. Despite all that, she continued her charade by raising an eyebrow.
"What's wrong? You don't actually think I can take on all of you at once? Go on, kill me. Then you can continue burning this ship till it sinks. Tomorrow, you can storm the capital and finally kill the oh so hated Rednitz. Once that's done, the country is yours. It's a bloody great plan, if you ask me."
The weight of her words seemed to finally penetrate their thick skulls. Even these obtuse men understood they were simply that they'd hadn't exactly thought everything through and that there would be consequences for their actions. That being said, rabble like these don't take well to be told they're wrong. They'd rather suffer than experience the humiliation of admitting their fault.
"Shut the hell up, ya stinking merchant whore!" yelled one of the men. He swung a fist straight at her. She was capable of dodging it but she took it square in the face. A sickening crunch could be heard and the blow her sent sprawling onto the ground. After a moment's rest, she got back up despite the throbbing pain. Blood dripped from her nose.
"That's what ya get for running your mouth. And it's far from over."
The man was grinning, his frustration at her words replaced by the satisfaction of violence. Cheers could be heared from his comrades. They were all elated at putting Carmillia in her place. They jeered at her.
She burst out laughing.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" She sputtered. "I'm sure the Rednitz are going to enjoy it just as much when they do it to your families."
It was as if her words were an icy hell that froze them all over.
Rabble would rather suffer than experience the humiliation of admitting their fault. But would they choose to make their loved ones suffer?
"Maybe all does go well. Maybe when you storm the capital, you manage to kill all the Rednitz. I can't say it's impossible. But what are the odds of that happening? You might be willing to bet your lives on that tiny chance but are you willing to bet the lives of your families?"
Carmillia had intentionally let him hit her. She wanted to drive home to them that right now, she was a helpless girl at their mercy. Just like how their families would be at the mercy of the Rednitz House if their revolution failed. And it would fail. They knew it. They had no plan. They had no means of taking the Rednitz down. They were just indulging in a fantasy and getting high off the chaos.
"Get of your damned high horses. Look at what we're on. A river casino. Instead of being at home, spending time with those that actually matter, you're here getting drunk and pissing whatever meager coins you have away. The irony. Who do you think owns the Lorentine Queen? You're throwing back your coin at the Rednitz!"
At this point, she was surrounded by far more rioters than Mortas' original lackeys. They had come to observe what was happening. They had heard her words. Now they were all speechless and at a loss. The silence continued until Mortas spoke up.
"So we suffer in silence? Live our lives like their dogs and be happy with what we have? If that's the case, I'd rather spare my family from living a life of servitude!"
Mortas had yet to give up. He was still trying to breathe life back into the riot but his words lacked the charisma it had earlier. It was glaringly obvious. Everyone observing could sense it.
"No, you fool. You avoid pointless deaths and senseless violence. You play the game they play. The game of plots and schemes. Sure, you might not have any experience in it but fortunately for you, you have me."
"Ha! You're just some girl."
"Am I? Even without resources or tools or power, I've brought all of you to a stop with just my words."
Murmurs could be heard all around.
Mortas was stunned. It dawned upon him that Carmillia had orchestrated and planned everything from the start. That even getting hit was part of her calculations. He shuddered at the thought.
"...even if you are that capable. And I'm saying if, why should we trust you?"
Carmillia took out a handkerchief to wipe away the blood off her face. She wrinkled her nose and regretted it instantly as pain shot through her face. On the bright side, it was starting to clot.
"Because I'm a money-grubbing merchant. And when things change for the better, you'll owe me a cut of the revenue from the spratz. Along with other benefits like tariff exceptions throughout the Feskan region and what not. The only way you can trust anyone is if they need you. And with this deal, we'll need each other."
Carmillia looked up at Mortas and then around her.
"Any disagreements? No? Then first up is getting the rest of the rioters up to speed so this boat doesn't sink. Can't have you drunks be drowning before we actually accomplish anything."
