[IC] Worlds Apart

[Etranger]

"Michael Keahi. But you can call me Mike." He told Ascot when he asked for his name. Titles and formalities didn't matter much to him, but he had some of these people might default to calling him "officer" anyway. Upon the suggestion that the madman might be useful, Michael wasn't entirely displeased, though perhaps a little bit. Truth be told, he didn't mind the idea of using him to fight something all that much at all, but his concern was more practical than moralistic. How could they possibly trust this guy not to try and stab them all in the back regardless of the circumstances? He didn't seem like he had a lick of sense in this situation. He even seemed eager to encourage his own violent death, given he suggested for Ascot to take the gun. Ascot seemed determined to try and reason with the guy though, as he even tried to lecture him as to his position right now. It was up to him if he wanted to try ultimately, but Michael doubted anything useful would come of this guy.

Before they departed, someone took the opportunity to warn him and Ascot not to 'do anything they couldn't take back'. Was he really that concerned that they were going to kill the knife-nut? Not wanting people to die was all well and good, but he hadn't thought he'd given anyone the impression he was out to kill the bastard just yet. Perhaps it was inspired by how tense everything had gotten? He couldn't entirely blame the guy for worrying that people might do something rash with all that had happened. However, eventually Michael's thoughts passed from ruminating on his words to the realisation that he recognised his voice. This was the guy that had warned him about the attacker back at the station. He hadn't exactly had time to get a look at his face, so recognising him that way had been out of the question earlier. But now he was sure it was him.

Eventually, the lot of them decided to get walking. Carrying the psycho certainly made things harder, but Michael had enough in him to pull the bastard along. Before they reached their destination, one of their number decided to pipe up and ask for a break. Everyone seemed to be inclined to follow suit, so Michael figured he may as well stop too. Ascot started to almost wax philosophical about their situation, prompted by the girl's questions. All it boiled down to in the end though was 'I have no idea what will happen, but let's just try our best'. It was absolutely all they could do. He even took a moment to thank him again. "Don't mention it." Michael replied casually. If it hadn't been for the supernatural environment, this could almost be another day in the life of Officer Michael Keahi.

However, what had been most dwelling on him was the guy whose identity he had figured out a while back. He had been tossing with the idea of saying something to him on the way, but now they had stopped, it was the perfect opportunity. Approaching him, Michael began to speak. "Hey. You're the guy that called out to me back at the station, right?" He didn't think it was something anyone could forget, but he sure hoped he wasn't unaware of what he meant. "I just wanted to say thanks, for the sentiment if nothing else. I know it didn't exactly help me, but it's the thought that counts." Which felt strange to say about something so heavy, but Michael didn't have a better way of phrasing it. "I'm Michael Keahi, if you didn't catch my name earlier." He wouldn't blame anyone for forgetting he had loudly announced his name back at the station, given everything that had happened. The funny thing was that now that he thought about it, Michael had the strangest feeling he had met him before. Michael met a lot of people on the beat, of course, so trying to remember them all was beyond him. But something at the back of his head insisted he had heard his voice even before this all started.

@Viatos@Letter Bee

[Scarescrow]

Oedipus had remained silence the whole time, mainly due to the silvery thread that was wrapped his mouth. But the cyborg person came to him, and took out his mouth gag. It was a pleasant feeling for Oedipus, to finally be able to respond to one of the stupidest ideas that he had ever think or heard of.

“Well of course, there are guaranteed in life kiddo. “

Oedipus slowly, lifting himself up from the ground using only pure muscles, letting his back with no solid cover. He could imagine most people would hear what he said while starting to use their power. He could felt the atmosphere around him suddenly turned cold despite the blazing heat outside, and the feeling of being observed by alien eyes. But there is still something dissatisfied deep inside of him, something that had become his only reason to live. The scream. Oedipus closed his eyes, as he imagined those moments when he truly felt alive. He let out the worst part of him and people with their noises cheered for it. But those moments can barely over 20 times. And the rest was filled with boredom and more boredom. Opening his eyes, Oedipus started to say his viewpoint, with his eyes scanning through everyone before stopping on the kid with wings.

“ Why can’t you choose to make the decision? You have your chance to leave in the subway, and you waste it. “

Oedipus started to smile, eye still focusing on the little angel.

“ You have your chance to leave now. And you said we should continue?”

Oedipus smile can now be seen, as his face muscle started to pulling the beak of the mask sideways, showing his jaw that seems to fill with the darkness of mankind heart.

"Why don't you said that you want your power. That you are corrupted by this power from the beginning. From the moment the Ghost Girl handed us the masked, we had all been mesmerized by the power the Mask had granted us. WHEN WE WEAR THIS, WE ARE NOTHING DIFFERENT FROM EACH OTHER.”

Standing on both of its leg, the thing smiled. And it started to speak in human tongue to all those beings under it.

“ So you got it now? All of you, are nothing different from me. Just that I’m the first, and you are the ones that followed.”

Both of them were laughing, the king on his throne, and the crow-like beast. Their laugh echoing and they eyes were focused on those humans that are trying to find any reasons to prove themselves are not monsters.

@Viatos(Already asked Viatos to allow to use his character for this action)@Letter Bee

[TaroAndSelia]

Anni was relieved to have the group moving away from... that place. She very nearly ran to Kate's side and stuck there, nearly at the back of their procession, as everyone started walking. Inside she tried to stop remembering the field. The station had been so grim, so gloomy. Then the field had been so full of life! So bright, so very nearly magical, even. But... Blood. Pain. And above all, the Ghost GIrl's request echoing round and round her head:

"I would have you serve as my blades, in this world."

That field... it had indeed been a place of life. That had never changed. What had changed was what life Anni could see in it. Not a fairy tale; as much as she loved those, they weren't life. Life had pain. Life had terror. Life...

'Life has its joys, too!' Anni screamed at her darkening thoughts. She picked her eyes up--and saw Ascot flying ahead, leading them down the trail. 'Life has love! Even though...' The girl's eyes drifted to Saffron walking along a few paces behind Ascot.

Anni shook her head, wishing to physically throw those thoughts out of her mind. It was... well, it was weird. Ascot... Ascot hadn't been like this, had he? He was quiet, and helpful, and... well, normal. Now he was outspoken, forward... and he had wings on his back, but that was probably the least weird change about him. The first time he had said he could dissect the frog and she wouldn't have to watch, she thought she saw a halo around his head already. Wings were just--

Again, Anni threw her head side to side.

“Anni," Kate nudged. The smaller girl jumped nearly a foot in the air. “You haven't said anything for more than an hour. You're never this quiet."

"Ah, I, uh..." All of Anni's thoughts scattered like quail after a gunshot. She looked to Kate with wide eyes and a half-open mouth, unable to form any words.

[color=81FFF0]“It will be alright, okay? We're going to stay safe. You don't have to put... that on."[/I]

Anni followed the woman's gesture with her gaze, down to the Semblance at her side. It still smiled at her.

"I would have you serve as my blades, in this world."

As much as she wanted to appreciate Kate's comforting words, a part of her doubted those words. Anni would never voice that, though; instead, she said, "No, that's not it. Everything has become so... frightening. And it's a lot to think about."

“Well, just don't bother with these things. They're only going to be trouble."

"...That is my choice," Anni said after a pause. She looked back up at Kate, locking gazes. "But I don't know what the right choice is. I keep asking, but--!"

"So," a voice from (surprisingly) behind interrupted, "how we gonna know what to do once we hit Silverbrook? I know we find the Magician, and all, but ya guys sure we're up for whatever's comin' next?"

Both girls turned to look at--Anni knew this one, she was... Ta...b... Tabitha?--to look at Tabitha. After raising her question, the woman sat down under at the base of a tree. "I wanna take a break, anyway. We been walkin' for a minute; ya guys can go ahead without me, if ya want. But I'm gonna drop my ass right here."

As a group it seemed the consensus was to take a break. Kate dropped to the grass a length apart from the others--even Saffron, Anni was saddened to see--and kept her eyes on all of them as best she could. Anni followed her, but didn't sit down herself. "Kate, I feel like He's--"

“Stop. You know I don't want to talk about it."

Anni looked at her friend, then around at the others. "Who am I supposed to talk to then?" she blurted out. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. She was scared. She was lost. She didn't feel safe at all. And she was feeling more and more alone as people changed into... not people. Kate could see that, too. How many hadn't put their semblance on yet? There was only--

“You can talk to her," Kate answered, pointing at Stormy. “She looks spiritual."

A part of Anni instinctively bristled. She rounded on Kate, a deep frown of disapproval on her face. "Kate. There is a difference between--!"

The girl stopped when she realized Kate had a soft smile on her face. “There's the girl I know," she commended quietly.

It took her a moment to process what had just happened, but soon her face lit up with an open-mouthed "a-ha!" For the time being, at least, the fear that had been spreading through her was gone. Kate had chased it out. Anni smiled at the world's best waitress--a giant smile filled with gratitude and awe--then turned to mingle with more of the group.

Anni ran over to where Tabitha sat. "What do you think is going to be next?" she asked the jester. "The Magician should tell us who she wants us to fight against. He might even tell us why. If we don't know that... Well, why did you come here in the first place?" Anni hadn't come for the scenery, that was certain. They were here because the Ghost Girl had asked for their help, right?

[Ceta de Cloyes]

Koda spent the walk in step with Stormy, eyes on the backs of those before him, zoning in and out as switched from focusing on their colors to focusing on their whispers. Each of them had a voice he realized, but the quiet words they spoke were utterly alien to him, and sometimes they were so faint he was convinced they’d never been there at all. He’d faltered a couple of times when he caught new whispers in his mind, tasting of old dust and stagnant waters, or of fresh gasps and brittle twigs, but he realized soon enough they were just snakes and lizards and birds and butterflies. Or he thought they were, that's what they felt like, and he occasionally caught glimpses of rustling grasses and flashing colors among the green.

They were minds, he thought, he could taste, and see, and hear minds. Or he was crazy. Either or. He just didn’t understand them though, which was weird right? He spoke English, the other’s spoke English, he even understood some Japanese! He knew enough of a few of the common languages found in Lightbridge to at least recognize them when he heard them too, so it wasn’t a case of everyone just having a different first language, they just… their thoughts didn’t work the same as vocal words. Or maybe his… gift, maybe his gift was just broken and didn’t work right.

Maybe this Magician could help? This was alike to magic as everything else he’d seen, though his mind quietly rebelled at the thought of playing up the mysticism of this new branch of science by calling it magic. The Magician would surely have some knowledge about how things worked right?

He felt a revolting riot of red wash over him and shivered, Tabitha was… not well. She called a stop and muttered something he was too far back to hear. He sighed, whatever her problems were Koda really wished she sorted them out, but really it wasn’t his place to help her, or any of them really. He flopped onto his ass the second everyone else began to take a break, then leaned back and threw his arms out like a starfish, letting out a loud sigh as he did. He was so hungry. Why were they stopped? Sure it was a long trek but Koda would kill for some chicken curry, or some spicy crispy taokaenoi seaweed snacks, or even some sugar blasted oatmeal. ”Ugh,” he said aloud to Stormy, forgetting the worrying changes to his appearance and drowning out the whispering minds around him with his thoughts of food, ”I’m so hungry,” he complained, not even trying to hide the whine in his voice. He’d sworn off beef, but right now he would fight for a cheeseburger. Or some wings, ooh some barbecue wings...

[Cacophony]

Credit

This post written in collaboration with @Redward.

'Corpse' is such an ugly word. Eufi and Dave aren't corpses. They aren't cadavers. They aren't husks. They're at peace, at rest. Even now, they're together. Torn apart for only a second. They didn't suffer.

The quiet young man took distant offense at his companion's methods. He rarely brought it up, but the blood made him uncomfortable; unhappy. Still, this was something he had to think about. Something he had to fully analyze. Fifteen corpses, rolling the word through his mind again made him feel dirty, but only fourteen... It didn't make sense. Something in him couldn't reconcile the miscalculation. While their methods differed, the quiet young man and his friend were thorough. There had never been something of this nature to worry about. It ate away at him until they reached their destination, keeping him largely in the grip of silence.

The diner, Hands On, was a small but somewhat reputable place; known to remain open all hours of the day. It wasn't pricy, and it wasn't particularly good, but the quiet young man had found through the years that few prying ears existed within its confines. Indeed, the patrons would more often than not place themselves well away from one another; when night bit down on Lightbridge. He had chosen their seat without asking the dapper lad, sitting in a corner; his gaze fixed on the world outside, through the film of fog that had formed on the window.

Their server had come and gone, a dark-haired girl that had tired features despite her age. She was polite enough, but the quiet young man could see that her mind was far away. She's pretty. I wonder if she has a vacation coming up. Looks like she could use it. He had ordered a simple meal. Eggs, bacon and two pancakes. It was his 'usual' for Hands On and one of the only things he could legitimately enjoy from the place. Water, he had said, instead of coffee. Coffee was too bitter, even when drowned in cream and made into sludge by sugar. The taste wouldn't leave his mouth for an uncomfortably long time.

He watched her, as she trudged along, wondering what was going on inside her head. Probably nothing important, but I want to know. A part of him nudged the budding thoughts aside. She was nothing special, it told him. Nothing to concern himself over. There were larger issues at hand.

It worked out. The facets are filled, now. Tonight wasn't the night, anyway. Not with...

He didn't waste any time, once she disappeared. His eyes drifted back to his companion, their cast something unreadable to most. The quiet young man was quite serious. Troubled, perhaps. This was not something that either of them had accounted for.

"Maybe your watch is broken? Cracked?" He didn't think it entirely sensible, given what he had come to learn of their 'weapons', but it wouldn't hurt to ask. "What happened, exactly? I want you to tell me everything about that missing one."

The dapper young lad perched upon his seat across from his quiet young companion with all the presence of a gargoyle, his elbows propped upon the sleek yet drab surface of the table, his index fingers supporting his sharp chin above his narrow, clasped hands. He'd not argued the choice of eatery, as much as he absolutely loathed this sort of "cuisine;" it did, after all, afford a few rather palatable tactical bonuses for people such as themselves carrying on a conversation such as the one they were getting underway. He'd waited patiently for the quiet young patron to order, and had simply signaled to the waitress that he'd have the same.

He almost let himself get caught starting right into the other's eyes, studying him intently as he watched the waitress recede. He knew, deep down, that the silence itself couldn't hide the disquiet writ upon his companion's mind as they'd waited to discuss what, exactly, the 'shitting fuck' had taken place. As the tenuous question was finally posed him, he closed his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. He really didn't want to deliver this news. Before speaking, he unclasped his hands and, parting his coat's breast with one, reached within to retrieve the incontrovertible evidence of his near-failure. He tapped the corner of the thin, laminated plastic card upon the table three times in quick succession, before sliding it unceremoniously across to skitter to a halt - in perfect orientation to be read - before his friend.

"Well, this particular would-be Eufi was my fourteenth collection," he began quietly, his brows furrowing tightly above eyes so tightly closed as to furrow his temples with crow's tracks. "Or at least, she was supposed to be."

He waited for the quiet young man to pick up and examine the identification card before continuing.

"She was an... uneventful encounter, at first. I took her quickly, silently, efficiently... I don't think she even felt any pain. You would have rather liked her; she seemed... sublimely innocent, in a nigh-bovine sense." Any other day, he would have allowed himself a slight chuckle at his own sense of humour. Opening his eyes and turning an unfocused, silvery gaze to the night beyond the nearby windowpane, he took in a breath and continued, perching his chin now upon his right palm while his left produced his pocketwatch, absently turning it over and round in his nimble fingers in a practiced flurry... another absentminded behaviour he'd adopted along with his molar-grinding in order to avert his own stress.

"I placed my hand upon the right side of her head, covering her ear - she hadn't noticed the silence on my approach, I mean, my methodology was not at fault - and within three seconds, the hypersonic polyhedra had split her dura and pia mater, sliced several cranial arteries, and broke the covalent bonds between the atoms of her brain-stem. She died rather neatly, compared to that bloody student in the alley." Here he paused and clenched his watch tightly, bringing his other fist down upon the table. The sudden sound startled even him; he'd forgotten, in his introversion, that the silence was without him at this moment. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing around at a couple other patrons who'd turned annoyed, quizzical glances in his direction at the outburst. They all immediately went back to their own banal existences, without any protest, and he took a deep, grounding breath before turning to fully face his quiet young partner in murder. Before he continued, his face seemed to melt into a softer, almost apologetic expression. He opened his mouth to speak, a hard "d" consonant escaping his lips before he caught himself, and continued, barely above a whisper.

"I promise you, everything went absolutely par for the bloody course, but... she..." He fidgeted in his seat in a display of extreme internal conflict, likely to the annoyance of his only friend, before mentally urging himself to just spit it out. He knew his next statement would not sit well with the quiet younger man; the very thought of it still didn't sit well within his own mind.

"This Euf- no. This non-Eufi," he spat, as though denying her the pseudonym was a slight against her for fouling up their plans, "She was just... she died, and no soul filled the fourteenth facet on my watch. The vapid wench was bloody empty, I tell you!" He took another brief breath to ground himself once more, and continued quietly, his eyes downcast, staring through the table top to some distant nowhere.

"I thought I'd failed myself, the others... and worse? Failed, well... you..."

He let these final few words hang on the air, his face an open mix of confusion, frustration, annoyance, and, though only the very person sitting across from him could ever identify it, a great deal of fear.

I don't want to talk about Eufi, right now.

They had met gazes, for a moment; before the card came sliding across the table, stopping perfectly before him. It made no noise as he slid it from the table and into his palm, held low against his lap, the quiet young man tracing the girls' features. His companion told of the girl's demise, and of her innocence. I can see it, he told himself, tracing a finger across the curl of her lips, she was happy. Maybe stupid, but happy. I bet she was alone. His chest tightened, and he removed his fingers from the ID; taking a moment to cover it with the edge of his jacket, in case the waitress were to return. She didn't even get a proper talking to, before going. Just...silence. Surprise.

He listened, lifting his gaze slightly, his strange displeasure veiled behind the usual wall; watching as a pocketwatch was produced and played with. As his companion's grip tightened. I would be worried, too. The quiet young man wouldn't fault his friend for his methods, despite the earlier unseemly display; and even smiled, slightly, when the debacle was mentioned. That's a haste-job, though. He would've been neater, if we hadn't run into a problem. I'll let it go. Besides, that guy's already dead. His friend was precise, and professional; much as the quiet young man considered himself to be. His friend was also nervous. The sound of his fist hitting the table had resounded throughout Hands On, and the quiet young man turned; but not to meet the gaze of the patrons.

Instead, he was looking for the waitress. His hand moved slightly, in its place on his knee, taking the ID card back up; hiding it against his hip, much as he did with his blade. The use of Eufi's name, again. The fidgeting. His mind started to drift, but the tension in his chest throbbed with disgust at revisiting that painful memory and brought him back to the table. He let it slide, bringing his hand to the table. It was then his companion began to say something, a very familiar sound quickly cut-off. He smiled, bringing his free hand up.

Not here, was the unspoken caution. His friend continued, and he listened until he was through.

"Stop. It's not your fault," the quiet young man let his gentle smile reinforce the words, hoping to draw his companion "we both know that they wouldn't blame you." It wasn't entirely true, the quiet young man knew well that at least one of them would have thrown a tantrum. "And me? I don't see how you could fail me. It's not like we've lost, or that we can't progress. It's weird when you talk, like that, you know? Beatrix Ashworth," he looked more pointedly at the ID, then back to his friend, "is a strange thing, but not one we should be worried about. In the worst case, she was a 'doll', which would mean someone could be watching us," the quiet young man reclined, a little, draping his arm over the back of the booth.

She looks like a doll, with those eyes, that's for sure. And tall, too. I wonder what she was really like... He could imagine her smiling, and for some reason, running. Again, the sharpening of pressure in his chest. A return from flights of fantasy. Disappointment. He shifted, bringing a hand up to his cheek and leaning against it.

"Best case she was just 'empty', like you said. Not many other reasons I can come up with, that'd keep your watch from functioning." Several terms came to mind, though, passed down from missed mouths. "I'm not sure what we should do, if anything, about her." She was, after all, from what he had heard, quite dead. "For now, we're set and ready to move forward."

True, it was disconcerting to him that a human shell had been walking around. Something without a soul could be dangerous, or nothing at all. He didn't much like that things had gone awry, but they weren't far from the path they'd predicted.

[jdh97]

[This post is brought to you by the lovely Redward and the brilliant Me. It tells of some of the things that happened during the timeskip, eventually ending at when the group decided to Rest.]

Stormy

After taking the mask back from Koda, she nodded twice, muttering only, “I think I understand better now, thank you.”

The mask occupied her attention, whilst she found herself swept up by the motion of the party, her feet carrying her half unconsciously. It held her with empty eyes. Gripping it made the hairs of her arms stand on end and tingle as if she was in the midst of a great thunderstorm. It was quite beautiful, with rolling curves and striking colour. She turned it over in her hands, looking at where her face would nestle, if she was to wear it, but then her eyes widened slightly, and she shook her head, burying the mask deep in a pocket of her massive cardigan.

She looked around at the passing world for the first time. It seemed to be a more vibrant reflection of their own; a falsetto of nature, with odd flowers lining the path, the grass growing untamed and wild not far from them, and trees appeared before long, a clustered canopy of simmering gemstones – verdant emeralds, sunset rubies, and deep autumn amethysts, with slithers of jade and malachite interlaced. Tears gathered at the corners of Stormy’s eyes. The forest bloomed on their right, but wrapped around in front of them, on the horizon, and it seemed, rather fortunately to Stormy, that their path would lead them through the dazzling, alien woods.

The sun shining, Stormy lolled her head back and smiled, stretching her arms in a wide arch above her, unhurried and happy. For all in the world she did not understand, she knew it was a day to behold, a day for small adventures and finding pleasant company. Stormy liked to have picnics on such days, but she did not picnic often; they were rare treasures indeed.

She didn’t talk much with Koda; he seemed rather sweet, but something in the way he spoke about the mask gave her goose bumps.

After only a few minutes of taking in the surrounding, Stormy decided to pull her boots off, walking barefoot in the sun-baked dirt and dust. She fell behind at bit doing this, ending up next to Tabitha. With a boot in each hand, she offered a close-lipped smile, and went back to staring a white wisp of cloud racing across the sky.

A couple more minutes of silence passed. Stormy's gaze having flitted quickly to and from the perverted visage of the Rebel every now and then. Finally, she spoke.

“Tabitha, right? I’m bad with names, y’know, but I think I heard Her call you that. I’m Stormy,” She raised a hand and wiggled a boot from side to side.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm Tabitha."

The path was lined with shade and thick trunks. Tabitha's eyes had roamed relentlessly, though they trained themselves on certain targets for longer than others. Picking over the dark corners where trains of thought had halted or altogether crashed, Tabitha had kept a slow pace. Now she was back in Irriss, shaken from the swarm of fragmented images and unspoken ideas. The woman talking to her was barefoot, and had apparently been there for a moment, a slight smile on her face. Tabitha pulled herself together, silver eyes taking on a sleepy cast and her mouth becoming a more relaxed crescent. She watched Stormy shake her boot in greeting.

"Sorry, I was in another world or somethin'. Stormy, ya said?" She wouldn't bring up that she had popped into the woman's shop, before, with Will. Still, it wasn't something she would simply overlook. The Ghost Girl had a reason for everything, and Tabitha was curious as to the why of the connections that seemed to exist. "She usually says the whole thing. 'Tabitha Calvicante'." Her eyes settled on Koda's back. Seems like he got it pretty bad. She crossed her arms across her stomach, pointing a finger skyward. "Don't much like that."

Calvicante… Will’s sister. Poor girl. She’s been through enough as it is. “Does he scare you?” Stormy nodded her head towards Tristan’s new body and its many eyes. “I see how you look at him.”

It didn't take her long to hit a relatively fresh wound. Tabitha's mind leapt at the question. She didn't bother sorting out what followed next. "I ain't scared, lady. I got over that on the tracks." She lied easily, flicking her finger in Stormy's direction. "And whatchu mean 'how you look at him'?!" She wasn't loud, exactly, but her voice had risen slightly; and to the observant there might have been something akin to surprise in Tabitha's eyes.

Fuck.

“Oh, of course you’re not scared, my mistake,” Stormy didn’t look at Tabitha; instead she swooped down to pluck a flower, carrying both boots in one hand as she stared at what resembled a lily. Its leaves were the stark white of bleached bone, but it was the stamen that had caught Stormy’s eyes; in the shade of the trees she could see that it had been glowing blue ever so faintly. Perhaps the native keystone pollinator here has the same visible spectra as we do and thus – she cut her thoughts short. The flower fell to the floor. It was lost to the dust.

She turned quickly back to Tabitha with an almost feverish grin. “But, you know it is okay to be scared. Heck, it’s probably the sanest thing to be right now. This place,” she gestured with and quick flick of both hands, her boots swinging in her grip, “is gnarly.” An odd chuckle punctuated a short silence.

Probably, yeah, but 'sane' ain't what we came here for.

Tabitha watched the older woman take up a bone-coloured flower. She was more watching her hands. It wasn't long before it fell away. She looked back at it, for a bare moment, but kept her feet moving. How many times I tell myself that I ain't scared? The easy answer was Long enough to know it's a lie, with the more convoluted thought trailing behind it so unnecessary that Tabitha half-laughed aloud. It came out something more of a choked chortle, before she settled back into her usual disinterested visage.

She was still tense, but it was much less pronounced after her small outburst. Stormy's easy way of talking helped, and that Tabitha couldn't imagine her as a scheming or plotting sort. Or a threat. "Yeah, it's somethin'." She glanced at Stormy, "'Gnarly', though? I kinda like that." Tabitha decided to lock that somewhere in her memory. "Probably gonna get more gnarly as we go." Yeah, ok. I like that one a lot. She waved a hand a bit, grasping the air; practising something she couldn't be sure existed. Does around here, though. That was never really a question. It did, however, remind her of something. A something that happened to be a question. I'll ask her in a minute.

“Don’t worry, nobody else will notice. I was just paying close attention,” she winked, tapping the side of her nose, “and I’ve enough years under my belt to spot certain things.”

A long hanging branch dangled tinkling leaves of chipped amber and spun gold. Stormy brushed the outstretched fingers of her free hand against them as they passed under. They chimed sweetly.

“I guess what I’m saying is, not dealing with your feelings is harsh on your spirit and soul. It’ll eat away at you, bit by bit. So don’t do that, yeah?” The sleepy sunset eyes of Stormy smiled with her face.

She listened, instead. Stormy gave her some words, and she considered them. She's gotta point. Maybe a couple'a points. She watched Stormy reach up to some leaves, trailing a few steps behind. "It ain't their business, anyway. Ain't ya's, either, but I guess I'd feel like a real bitch if I ran off a sweet old lady. Especially when ya right. Thanks," she did her best to not let a sliver of sarcasm slide through; she wasn't really feeling it, anyway, "Kinda gives me a bit to think about." Really it brought too much to mind. A thousand problems and sorrows caught behind her lips. Tabitha would swallow them, again, for now.

Sort that out, later.

"How come ya ain't wear ya Mask, Stormy?" Tabitha's eyes drifted to it, then to the woman's face. "Interestin' choice, for real. Seems like everyone else took to it real quick." She lowered her hands to dangle at her side, staring ahead. "And that some of 'em are regrettin' it, real quick."

Stormy’s smile slipped slightly. She shoved the mask deeper into her pocket, hiding it almost entirely. Tabitha watched her, as she hid the Semblance away. Silence followed, but her eyes didn't stray for a long moment. When they did, the harlequin sought the Sun; catching glimpses of its radiance through an almost oppressive canopy. She held her hands aloft, letting it fall on her where it would. Her feet had started to ache, and her head wasn't faring much better. It was warm and familiar, despite her displacement. Stormy stopped chewing her lip and broke the silence, finally answering.

“One should accept gifts as graciously as possible, especially with Her kind. I would have left my mask if it were possible. But all that talk of souls,” she shrugged, “I’m me. Always have been, always will be. There’s nothing anyone could offer to tempt me into giving that up. No pretty mask. No power.” As she walked her mouth hung half open, her eyes far off. There was more to say, but then she sealed up, and nodded.

"I took it without thinkin'," it wouldn't be the first time she had done something of the sort, "and decided that s'worth it without checkin' costs. Still, I ain't think we traded off our souls or anything." Despite herself, she smiled, "Even if I did, it ain't matter now. Maybe that's what it takes to get what ya want, anyway?" Tabitha didn't know where she really stood. She had taken the Semblance, and had chosen to wear it; those were the facts. What applied to others didn't seem to much have anything to do with her. People flyin' and fightin' and movin' rocks and shit. I ain't got nothin'. That had rolled around her mind, as well, since leaving the field. If Tabitha concentrated, as she was doing now, she could feel something begging to be moved. Something both within and around her.

Then, of course, as she tried to latch onto that feeling; that strange tingling that started in her fingers, Stormy called her out and lightly squeezed the hand she was so intently staring at.

“You’re hurting; your bravado hides it only so much. I don’t know what we’ll face here, but we’re in this together. All of us. Please don’t forget that, Tabby Cat,” She gave Tabitha’s hand a squeeze gentle enough to match her smile.

She wanted to pull back, but for no reason other than keeping distance; it didn't have the same alien feel that the Ghost Girl's grip possessed. Tabitha sighed, lifting the edge of her massive hat to scratch at her scalp; setting long strands of hair to dancing as she attempted to properly replace the oversized headgear, afterwards. She had known someone would eventually, but doubted it would be that quick. Or that quiet.

Tabby Cat, huh? Haven't heard that one in a while. It brought a smile to her face, despite the slight edge the thought held. "Yeah, I've been hurtin' for a while, Stormy," it was a whisper, her eyes without their usual steel, "I came here to make that right, weird as that sounds." Through all the doubts, that one thing had remained unmalleable in her mind; Irriss and the Ghost Girl could be whatever they wanted, but Tabitha Calvicante was going to get hers... through them or through something else that existed, here. And she was sure she'd know it, when she found it.

"I know what ya sayin'. I just don't know if we gonna make it work, like that."

She slowed herself, falling behind Stormy again. That's when she decided it was time to take a break, with or without the others. So, she announced it; kicking a rock and putting forward a question.

Stormy halted with the party. Sliding down its trunk, she plonked herself at the base of a tree with brick-red bark and honeyed leaves. Uncertainty and worry swam in her eyes, so she shut them tightly, tilting her face up to the dappled sunbeams that smiled back at her.

“I’m sure there will be all the food you can eat in Silverbook.”

The mask weighed heavy in her pocket.

She did not think of picnics.

[Viatos]

"We've met," Tristan said to Keahi as the group slowed and stopped. He was absent-minded, but he wasn't sure his synthesized almost-voice carried that over, or tinges of emotion, an uncertainty that earlier had created a wash of despair, its edges trailing down into the fear his modified psyche now swallowed up into its endless roil. A hateful fisherman casting lines into the darkness. For the moment, he was only absent-minded. One eye swirled along its clockwork track to find Keahi. "Officer. I was in...bad shape. You were kind. I'm afraid I didn't live up to that kindness."

He paused for a moment. Three eyes roved; one stayed with Keahi. The other had never left his one-time maybe-someday friend.

"I think most of us have met. Except...him," said Tristan. No need to specify. "The...ghost girl, she brought us all here. Selected us all. Empowered us all. You the lawkeeper,
yeah, but also me the petty criminal. With weapons. To be blades."

Tristan gestured towards his haul. Before they'd left the clearing his curious dais had spread out into new flowers, a geometric pattern, but its ambitions had been curtailed there - the whole thing had collapsed by now, he sensed, a serious of small, calculated explosions transforming the garden, just as it had been a transformation to begin with. Chaos into order. Order, into chaos. Those new flowers had provided, anyway. A second weapon, identical to the first, and a pair of what looked very much like fruits, whole and inviting, with soft silvery-green skin.

"These aren't innocent wishes we've been granted, Officer Keahi."

Tristan hesitated, previously-devoted eye flowing away from the officer now, towards their prisoner. Might as well. He moved to where the other had been left in the grass, reaching down to do what he could about the gag. As soon as he stepped back, the ranting started. Of course.

But...

The machine-thing stood quietly, weathering Oedipus' speech, unreadable except within the ugly murk of his mind. His thoughts were not pleasantly-flavored. He watched Oedipus for a while, then turned away. Corrupted was too close to the theme of his thoughts to dare a response. An acknowledgement would make it real.

So he moved again, offering Koda and Stormy fruit as he passed, along with the short version of the effects and side-effects. Safe without any strong prior addictions. Dangerous with. Tristan tried not to feel like a monster as he explained it. There'd been farming back home, at the ranch. But this isn't the same.

He tried not to think about what it WAS like as he made his way to Tabitha at last.

Hi, hello, how's it going, what's up, are you tired, Tabitha, help me... Variables. He crystallized. "Hey."

Tristan resisted the urge to shuffle, suspecting it would look ridiculous on his anodized frame, conscious again of himself. The monster. Oedipus' words rang in his mind, a supporting counterpoint, creating the inviolate architecture of a prison wall. He didn't like thinking about it around her. They'd all touched lives somehow, some kind of twisted daisy-chain being threaded by a dead imposter, but Tabitha was different. The kid and his sister, Stormy and their pioneer, the cop and the killer...significant pairings. Was he significant? To her? To anyone? The day was beautiful, but it wasn't their world. Everywhere he looked, the tinge of unreality seemed to wait to swallow the scene. Things boiled up in him, geysers from that terrified ocean, questions...

Are you okay?

Are our friends okay?

Will I be like this forever?

Is there a way back home?

Can you stop Her?

Am I...

He'd been staring too long. Five golden points formed a star that centered the girl he'd admired, once, the girl so careful with her faith. So careless of her fate. He wasn't sure how much the group knew about where he'd come from. Lane knew some of it; had he followed up? It wasn't a hard dig, however he sold himself these days. There'd been a couple back-page articles, when they arrived - the first door-to-door missionaries in Lightbridge, with a few unkind jokes in tow - and one for the front when Wolfgang had bought it. It should have felt distant now, but it never did, the life he'd left throbbed in his brain, sparked and twitched like a cut power line. Everything else had been mist, except the gang. I was starting to...

No. Focus.

What did people want around monsters? The answer was so obvious, so simple, even if he hadn't been attuned to it - and he was. Whatever his Semblance had been, it had cared an awful lot about the concept. Safe.

Tristan took the second gun, reversed his grip, unconscious of the way his arm fractured and reconstituted to do so, avoiding the vulnerability of letting the weapon enter empty air with a fluid maneuver of tendrils and carbon grips. "I wanted to give you this. In case..." He trailed off, suddenly acutely aware there were no safe in case scenarios. He had no lip to bite.

"And to talk, if you want." The if was easy, through the speakers. It didn't stick and choke the way words used to do. "Everything's so...much. I'm overwhelmed. We're all moving in the same direction, but..."

He gestured helplessly. Helplessness was an emotion this new body seemed encoded to understand.

"I look different. I know. It's isolating. You saw - everyone saw. There are currents forming in the group, and...we know so little about each other. I'm afraid-" of me of you of what you say and don't of Her of him of the future the past this moment this feeling of power of weakness of corruption of faith of fate of everything "-of falling out of step.

I don't want to get left behind."

[Redward]

Her eyes slowly lifted from the grass at her feet, Tabitha's arms uncurling and dragging to rest at her side; releasing the grip she had taken up on her shins. The slasher had been talking, spouting out something Tabitha figured was about half of the truth. She wouldn't say anything about it, though. He got a point, but it ain't got nothin' to do with me. She didn't think much of the Semblance, or the 'power' he was ranting about. As far as she knew, she didn't have any. Least not yet.

The pattering of feet. Runnin'? Her attention had already shifted to the girl coming to a stop near her. She didn't remember her name, but Tabitha remembered her face. She had been the one who had helped Stormy, during whatever fainting spell she had in the C-Route. Had asked Ghost Girl why they had been given Semblances. Weird, how some of this stands out, and some just don't. Lot happenin', but what's really goin' on here? The hell's her name? Whatever, I'll ask in a minute. She looked at the girl with a flat expression, hearing out her question. Then flat became quizzical.

"I think we gonna find out a lot, one way or another. The Magician's probably one of Ghost Girl's 'friends', and she put him up to lookin' after us." A finger came up to her chin, contemplation plain on the harlequin's face, "Hard to tell, though, for real." Then came a question that almost caused her expression to completely slip. Why'd I come here? Ain't ya business. Just like I told the old lady.

She kept herself in line, though, biting back the acidity she felt like unloading. "Ya wanna know that, huh?" Instead, she felt she'd be a little dramatic, "I came here to set shit right. And this place's gonna help me do that." Tabitha smiled, something a little cold and a little distant, " What's ya name, anyway? I ain't know ya. Tabitha's mine, if ya ain't caught it." She knew that the vagary of that statement would be transparent to some, but she wasn't going to let any of them know just how far she was willing to go. Still, she kept talking. "I'll go ahead and tell ya, I ain't gonna trust whatever reason the next spook is gonna give us for doing whatever it is we gonna do."

Tabitha's hands went back to her shins, and she lowered her head at another approach. Tristan, this time. I was hopin' for this, right? Fuck. Her heart went in a hundred different directions, her eyes widening; Tabitha silently thankful that her hat and hair would obscure that. His greeting was simple, and strangely put her at ease. Whatever tension she had been building since conversing with the girl she didn't know felt distant. Somethin' good might finally be happenin'.

"Hey," she returned, looking up, placidity reigning on her face, "good to see ya without a hole in ya head." Part of her winced at that, but it was buried. Ya dumb bitch! Be nice. A laugh, weak as water followed, and she sat up a bit; bringing her eyes to meet his. Silver, again, to gold. The Semblance had wrought a change in him more extreme than she had imagined, fragments collected from her crying-laughing momentary breakdown recovered. It's...somethin'? A lot had changed, but the scene before her felt just like they had been talking after Lane brought Tristan into their group. Awkward, but not with malice...just uncertain as to how approach the scenario. Distance. Before, that hadn't mattered; now it dug a dull dagger into her when she thought about it.

Her thoughts from earlier were lingering in the back of her head. They stared at each other for a long moment. Five to one...which one should I be lookin' at? Truly, she looked at each of them; finally taking time to look over this Tristan with curiosity; rather than dread. It ain't him, but it is. Wonder why I was so worried? Actually looks kinda cool. Something in her knew the answer, but kept it locked down. Better not to bring that to the surface. Ain't like it's gonna do anyone any good for me to start breaking down. Stormy had managed to hit home with her advice. And I was honest with her, for a minute. I should do the same with Tristan. He deserves it, right? He shared in my circle. He knows Rani, knows Lane...

She smiled, a little, right before Tristan's arm did some weird rearranging act. It took her a second to catch what was going on. "Oh, fuck, for real?" It was supposed to be a thought, but she couldn't contain herself. She smiled a little wider, taking the gun and tested its weight; lifting it, away from the small group near her, and looked down its sight. I bet this thing fuckin' hurts. As she did, he offered exactly what she was hoping for. Her demeanor softened, and Tabitha felt like herself for a minute; like the girl she had been before her brother's death, who she was before the Ghost Girl had arrived in her life. "Thanks, Tristan." It was an earnest statement, made with a broad smile. "Yeah, talkin' would be pretty great." She wanted to say more, but couldn't. The stubborn part of her that was dead-set on being tougher than she was held her back, like it usually did.

He's...lookin' out for me. That alone touched her deeply, spreading warmth through the nigh-perpetually cold Tabitha that had been present since the group was called to the C-Route. Maybe, even a bit of her facade was cracking; hard. He spoke of his appearance, of isolation Mine or his? Both of us? Fuck. and put into kinder words what she had thought about the cliques forming around them...and how little they really knew of each other. She smiled, at that. Me and him ain't so different. They were on the same page, just maybe different paragraphs. Then he spoke of fear. Tabitha knew a hell of a lot about fear, and trying hard to seem like she was immune to it.

Then he said something that wrenched her heart and brought small tears to her eyes. She couldn't formulate words. He had already spoken her thoughts. So Tabitha Calvicante did what came naturally, she followed her instincts. She stood, slowly, and closed the distance between them; and hugged Tristan Traeger since the first time they had met. It didn't last long, but she gave him a tight squeeze; and took two hopping steps back, a couple of tears rolling down her cheeks; touching on the tattoo-teardrop and tracing the center of the strange 'scar' that sat opposite it.

"I ain't wanna get left behind, either. Ya speakin' my mind, Tristan," she couldn't hold back, the words pouring out rapidly, "Ya right; we ain't know each other too well. I never gave ya that chance, back home. I'm real sorry, about that. I..." The harlequin-girl hesitated, gesticulating wildly, perhaps reminding Tristan of how she had acted before Will's death, "I fucked up. Ya got brought into my circle. Lane and Rani are my family, the only people who ever gave a fuck about me besides Will. I was too wrapped up in my own head to give ya the acceptance, there, ya needed. I was..."

She thought, for a moment, cradling the gun against her chest.

"I wasn't me. I still ain't sure if I'm me, 'specially now...but I wanna give ya that chance. I want us to have that chance. I want us to know each other," Tabitha's voice lowered, "I want us to be like me'n Rani and Lane are. I want us to stick together, through all this bullshit. I ain't gonna leave ya behind, and I sure as hell ain't gonna let ya do that to me. 'Sides, we got people waitin' on us. People who'd be pretty fuckin' lost without me, and I know Lane would lose his shit if I ain't bring ya back with me. Rani, too." Tabitha knew she probably hadn't intended to let all that out, but in her mind it needed to be said.

A smile spread across her face, the most genuine one she could remember producing in a long time.

"I ain't gonna lie. The new look scared me. Ya scared me. But, lookin' into ya eyes, all of 'em, and thinkin' about the guy I barely know...ya can't be anyone else."

[Mammon]

“What…?” Zino Bertran was full of cold disbelief. One of younger agents stammered out a reply, but his mind was already turning over the problem. He interrupted, “Those are highly sensitive materials… If they fall into the wrong hands…” Bertran’s eyes flicked across his desk, searching for any clues.

Zino’s office was had once been immaculate, but now it looked like the room had hosted a tornado. Papers were scattered across floor, the file cabinet had been emptied, the trash hatch had been flung open, and a chair laid toppled over--missing its cushion. “Of course,” he breathed, leaping over a pile of crumpled files to the trash shoot. A shred of fabric had wedged itself between two sheets of metal. “Quick, get out of my way.”

He shoved his way past his junior and sprinted down the hall. Bertram threw himself against the door to the stairwell and slid past the first flight of stairs. If I get there fast enough, there’s still a chance I could-...! Zino stumbled down a few steps as his outpaced himself, but managed to catch his balance. Shit…

By the time he reached the basement, his breath was ragged. The foundation of the building was dark and quiet. His footsteps echoed in the concrete tunnels. Zino patted his pockets searchingly. “Where did I…? Ah.” The flashlight cast a perfect moon of light where-ever it pointed. Further down the hall, Zino saw the door to the incineration chamber--the metal bolt left unlocked. He narrowed his eyes.

He swung open the door loudly, kicking up a small cloud of soot from inside the room, and shone the light. Piles of paper and garbage lined the walls to the ceiling, and ash caked the floor. “No footprints…” No later than the words had left his mouth he felt something solid violently contact the back of his head.

Zino Bertran’s muscles were slow and stiff. He did not remember losing consciousness, but the side-effects were all too familiar. He screwed his eyes shut briefly before cautiously looking around. His head throbbed with each pump of his heart, and pain radiated from his temples. Ash covered his hair, his clothes, and his face. “Shit.” He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but his flashlight had grown dim from constant use.

Carefully he sat up, testing his body to make sure all of his sore muscles still worked. It was then he saw it: a folder with large cautionary letters stamped across it--classified. Zino scrambled to recover the information, shoving the paperwork back into the folder and clutching it to his chest. He staggered to the door and tried to open it. “...Shit!” It was firmly bolted shut. He beat on the door, yelled, and tried to call up the ducts--to no avail. After some time, he gave up and sat, exasperated, where he had fallen.

He sat on something hard. “What the hell…?” Zino pulled a simple, round mask from underneath his backside. He wiped a smear of ash from its smooth surface. Something about the object was deeply disturbing, unsettling. Bertan could see his reflection in the lacquered forehead: he was stripped of all pretense; dirty, bloodied, and weak. The dark pits of its eyes gazed at his innate self. It terrified him.

As if trying to shake off the thoughts, he turned his attention back to the paperwork:

Classified Documents

Page 67-B File BT-TF-01
Cont’d

1/3/20XX: Juvenile suspects terminated.

2/16/20XX: Testing begins on [Data Expunged] to determine the function and safety of exposure.

7/23/20XX: Space-time anomalies resulting from exposure to [Data Expunged] are confirmed. Testing is suspended until further notice.

10/9/20XX: The unaccounted-for remains of one of the original nine test subjects appear unexpectedly outside [Data Expunged]. The remains are not decomposed in any manner and are still warm to the touch. Blood remains uncoagulated. The remains are remanded for testing.

10/12/20XX: [Data Expunged] has ordered the site inside [Data Expunged] to include emergency storage for all specimens.

4/22/20XX: Emergency storage is operational. Labs and containment units are complete.

5/25/20XX: Sightings of test subject [Data Expunged] have been reported within the exposure areas.

6/02/20XX: Youth have been reported missing outside the exposure area of [Data Expunged].

7/19/20XX: Two victims are discovered outside one of the exposure zones. Time of the attack is estimated to be around 2300-2400 hours. Victims are catatonic.

7/26/20XX: Two more victims found outside [Data Expunged] near one of the exposure zones. Cause of death is related to severe internal trauma. Time of death is estimated to be around 2300 hours.

7/29/20XX: A second set of unaccounted-for remains from the nine original test subject appears within the exposure zone. Remains in similar condition as previous test subject. Remanded for testing.

8/03/20XX: Another group of victims found inside [Data Expunged]; authorities believe there is a serial killer at large around zone [Data Expunged]. Victims are catatonic. Time of attack unknown.

8/4/20XX: The warm body of a young man was found within one of the exposure zones; mask found near the remains. Unknown origin, unknown materials. Object remanded for testing.

8/9/20XX: Corpses found outside laboratory, believed to be the victims of a serial killer. All personnel have been relocated to [Data Expunged] facility to continue testing on the object. (Cont’d)

Before he could finish reading, liquid began to pour from a series of pipes in the ceiling. “Water? No...” Horror gripped his stomach. “Gasoline!” Zino Bertran flipped open his cell phone. The thick, insular concrete blocked any reception. Still gripping the paperwork and the mask, he moved to beat on the door. “Please! Help! There’s someone in here…! Help me!” His pleas echoed in vain throughout the chamber. The fumes of the gasoline were enough to force him to sit. “Th-the furnace shouldn’t even be in use…” Zino coughed, going through the papers. “All of this is…!” His eyes grew wide. The man struggled to pull himself up to the door. It remained firmly bolted shut. “You can’t do this!! Please, let me out! Let me go!!”

A glimmer of orange light sparked across the room, igniting the classified documents and consuming everything it touched like a wraith. Zino beat against the door again, shouting. Hot smoke and ash flooded the chamber. The air was smothering. Muffled shrieks and the metallic banging could be heard from the outside, just barely audible over the roar of fire.

Data Expunged.

[Etranger]

Now it was confirmed that he had met this guy before. Unfortunately, the guy didn't clarify when or where, nor did he offer his name, so Michael would have to sit there and guess. From his words, it sounded like he was one of the many non-serious law breakers he tended to go easy on. That didn't exactly make placing him much easier. His later words were more intriguing, however. He claimed everyone here had met in some capacity, with one exception. It made Michael wonder if there wasn't some line of logic to ghosty's choice of mask people. Then again, he was sure he hadn't met more than a few of these people, so it could easily just be a big coincidence that some of them had more acquaintances here than others. It was something to consider, at the very least.

After leaving off on some ominous talk about why the ghost girl had given them these bizarre powers, it seemed the guy made up his mind to go off and talk to someone else. Michael didn't mind ultimately, as he had really only wanted to say his piece. The last thing the guy did before going off to make conversation, however, was to ungag the psychopath. Michael didn't mind it entirely, seeing as gagging prisoners wasn't something anybody did back home even when they were the foulest and most malicious out there. It did quickly prove to be a bad idea, however, as the madman quickly opened with a spiel about how they were all the same as him or some crock like that. Additionally, the creep seemed a little too maneuverable inside his little cocoon. Michael really hoped he wasn't just going to be able to burst out whenever he felt like it.

"Oh, I see!" Michael suddenly spoke out, with an exaggerated tone as though he had just come to a major epiphany. "I see it clearly." He was looking right at the nutcase. "You watched the movie "The Dark Knight" by Christopher Nolan, and you thought the Joker was SO cool, you decided to emulate him in every way you could. Only you were too shitty to have any charisma like him, so you just went around being antagonistic and claiming everyone's a douche deep down in their dark little hearts." It should have been clear to anyone by now that he was taking the piss out the bastard. "Well guess what? You can take your plagiarised pseudo-philosophical bullshit and blow it out your ass. Heck, let's imagine for a minute that you're right..." Although Michael was absolutely certain he was dead wrong. "...that we're all evil and creepy, just like you. Does that make you feel better about yourself? Does it make your douchebag heart feel all tingly? Because it doesn't change a damn thing for me."

"Hey Ascot..." He began, turning his attention from the Joker here briefly. "Maybe we should leave the gag off for now? If he wants to demonstrate what a prick he is, let him." Michael didn't exactly want to hear more crowing about evil and morality, but it wasn't really his style to go gagging people to begin with, and God only knew if people were just going to take it off like the other guy, it was pointless to keep it up. Besides, Michael could always stand to poke some more fun at his bullshit ideas.

@Viatos@Scarescrow@Letter Bee

[Letter Bee]

Ascot would have said that it was actions, not powers, that made one a monster. But Michael Keahi had managed to tackle Odepius' arguments from another angle. Nevertheless, the boy would look at the Police officer and give a few moments of thought to his request.

He didn't like the idea of the serial killer giving more inane speeches and distracting them from work that needed to be done. If he were honest with himself, Ascot had an ego that Odepius had wounded, but to surrender to that...would be to prove the deranged man right. So the boy looked at Michael, giving a brief series of nods.

"All right, officer," Ascot said, "we will leave him ungagged." I can just ignore him. "But I am still tightening his restraints until we go to Silverbrook, after which we will try for more lasting means of restraint and surveillance."

And with that, the cocoon encasing Odepius tightened and thickened, before the young man would continue to say, "Officer...sorry for further questions, but your mask, what powers does that give you? Do you feel anything inside yourself?" He then looked at where Tabitha and Tristan were having a 'shippy' moment, smiling.

Then, his stomach rumbled. He then looked at Michael, then Anni, before saying, "Oh, do you guys have some food? If not, we might want to resume the trip to Lightbridge in...five minutes."

@Etranger@Mammon@Redward@Viatos@jdh97@Ceta de Cloyes@TaroAndSelia@Scarescrow

[TaroAndSelia]

" What's ya name, anyway? I ain't know ya. Tabitha's mine, if ya ain't caught it."

"Ah! Anni."

"I'll go ahead and tell ya, I ain't gonna trust whatever reason the next spook is gonna give us for doing whatever it is we gonna do."

That was a stunning idea. Anni took a step back as her brain tried to process it. The next person, the Magician, was one of the Ghost Girl's friends... probably. So the reason he would give them for--well, like Tabitha said, for whatever--wouldn't that be the Ghost Girl's reason?

Just as Anni stepped back, the metal soldier stepped forward. Anni stayed just long enough to hear his name--Tristan; Tabitha, Tristan, Ky-ah, later!--then felt rapidly out of place being so near the two. Their conversation was a private one, so Anni silently slipped away as quickly as she could.

"I would have you serve as my blades, in this world."

So what was her reason? Why did she need a police officer, a pair of high school students, both of Johnny's employees, that guy who was clearly not on their side, and, and... and she didn't know who the rest of these people were, actually. But why did the Ghost Girl need all of them to "serve as her blades?" And why wouldn't the Magician tell them that truthfully?

Anni glanced at the scary man again. Somehow, he had something to do with that answer; Anni was certain of that. She didn't want to be any closer to him than necessary--but as Anni hadn't yet stopped walking, she found herself drifting closer to him subconsciously. With a small, startled yelp, Anni halted her steps--just a few strides away from Officer Kalua... from Mike and Ascot. They were talking about what to do with their prisoner; and, even as wrapped up in her thoughts as she was, Anni had heard enough of the exchange between that man and the officer to know... well, to know something. That it all made her really uncomfortable and she really wanted a dog to hug?

Anni stayed there quietly, unsure how she should insert herself in that conversation--or even if she should at all. A loud growl from Ascot's stomach resolved the situation; he turned to her, pulled her into the conversation, and asked in his very direct and pragmatic fashion, "Oh, do you guys have some food?"

Anni had to confess, "I do not." She swiveled her head this way and that. They were in the wilderness right now, after all; surely there would be some fruits or even roots that were edible. Anni discovered a much bigger problem quickly; she couldn't even find anything that was recognizable. Knowing if it was edible or not simply wasn't possible. She couldn't think of any way to test if a plant might be poisonous, either.

A warm throb came from the folds of her skirt. Anni's hand dropped down to grasp it. Immediately that warmth began to pulse up her arm. What came next wasn't anything tangible--nothing like a clear thought or even something as vague as an emotion. There seemed to appear, ex nihilo, the understanding that putting the mask on would give her the power to help. It didn't enter as a foreign thought; it didn't feel like a thought, and it seemed never to have entered. It was simply there, as though it had always been there.

Anni dared to take a peek at the mask, turning it out with her hand. It smiled at her--it always smiled at her. That impossibly large smile that split the entire face. She dropped it back into her skirt quickly, returning her gaze to her peer and the policeman. "I think you're right, Ascot; we do need to hurry."

For a moment, Anni looked like she was struggling with an internal conflict. "Do you," she began, addressing her words to both or either--she wasn't sure herself. "Do you," she tried again. "Do you believe..." Her words died out as the battle within was lost. Her head tilted down and her eyes sought the soil. "...that the Ghost Girl really needs our help?" she finished in a quiet voice.

She hadn't said it. She had been scared to say it. So she said this. Head still down, Anni dared to turn her eyes up to look at Ascot. Maybe if she had done more to get to know him last year, maybe then she would have asked her real question. Maybe he would have known what she didn't say. Maybe...

'Maybe you should just keep it to yourself, hm?'

Her eyes met Ascot's. Anni looked down again quickly. Maybe that person was right; maybe she should. Maybe then she wouldn't bother any of these people.

'Maybe that's too many maybes.'

[Letter Bee]

Ascot looked at Anni, taking some time to process her words and look at her, truly look at her, for the first time since the group had met. He smiled, floating over to her, wings flapping. Then he spoke, "The answer to that is...yes. The Ghost Girl needs people and isn't picky over who she needs. That is why she gave powers to us, seemingly at random. But that doesn't mean we can trust her. For all we know, she may want us for a cause that would be destructive or against our morals or both." He was a little worried by his own words, then continued, "For now, she has all the cards. For now."

His smile then grew wider, before he said, sheepishly: "You know, I like girls too. But few of them are so outspoken, yet kind. Assertive, yet gentle. Feminine, yet with steel under that silk." He blushed. "And, well, let's just say that I never noticed those attributes in you before; I am sorry."

Ascot floated down, turning back into a human for a brief few seconds, wanting to see Anni as 'himself', as his original black-haired and awkward and sort-of weak self.

Then, the light shone through him again, and he resumed his Angelic form. As his wings manifested once more, they began fluttering once more, like with Saffron. He would then say, "I will not throw myself at you like I did with Saffron. But, if you like, perhaps we can have Tristan make us a place to have a mini-date in? I noticed him talking about being able to grow fruits, structures, and gardens..."

A look at where Tristan and Tabitha were canoodling, and a kind smirk towards the former. He would then turn back to Anni and say:

"So, a mini-date in a rose garden, if you, Tristan, and Tabitha agree?" His smile was even now more shining than ever.

@Etranger@Mammon@Redward@Viatos@jdh97@Ceta de Cloyes@TaroAndSelia@Scarescrow

[TaroAndSelia]

"The answer to that is...yes. The Ghost Girl needs people and isn't picky over who she needs. That is why she gave powers to us, seemingly at random. But that doesn't mean we can trust her. For all we know, she may want us for a cause that would be destructive or against our morals or both. For now, she has all the cards. For now."

That... might make some sense. The Ghost Girl chose so many different people because anybody would do? But something didn't sit right in that idea, either; there was a much stronger feeling inside her chest that told Anni all these strange, distinct individuals had been chosen because of exactly what they could and would do. And if she already had the power to make all of this happen, the Ghost Girl wouldn't really need them to cause destruction, would she?

"You know," Ascot continued, startling Anni out of her thoughts and causing her head to raise until they made eye contact again, "I like girls too. But few of them are so outspoken, yet kind. Assertive, yet gentle. Feminine, yet with steel under that silk." He blushed. "And, well, let's just say that I never noticed those attributes in you before; I am sorry."

Her eyes must have been as wide as saucers. Firstly, this was far more attention than she was used to receiving from a boy; he was staring way too much! Secondly, what was he saying!? What was he thinking? What was he doing? Why was he descending and changing back into the young man she knew from before Irriss?

...Why could she remember that look in his eyes so clearly?

Then he was up again, hair white and wings fluttering. Anni was still half-dazed--until he said, "I will not throw myself at you like I did with Saffron."

With Saffron. Saffron. Saffron.

'Two hours ago he had... to him but... he is there, and now... to me, he would...'

Anni's mind was spinning in circles. She couldn't hear any more of what he was saying. First he had professed to Saffron, but already he was advancing on her? And it was an advance, she knew that; that's what a date meant for sure! This guy, this guy-!

"So, a mini-date in a rose garden, if you, Tristan, and Tabitha agree?" he concluded with a smile so bright it could have been used for a camera's flash.

There was only one answer Anni could give him, but she didn't know how on earth... how on Irriss she was going to say it. Instead, Anni threw up both her hands as a protective shield and cried out, "NothankyouIhavetogobye!" And with that, the small girl darted away. She didn't even pause to consider her direction; she just needed to run. It wasn't until a deep voice tickled her ear that Anni realized she was running within two feet of the scary man. From that close distance he was watching her, telling her something so quietly she barely heard it herself.

A whisper just for her

"Be wild and don't let any rules hold you back."

Anni kept running--she even managed to increase her speed to get away from him. He probably tried to say something more, but she missed it. Too much was happening all at once. Anni bent her tracks toward Kate, reached her, and dove behind her back to hide from everything. That was enough--no, that was too much learning about the others already!

[Mammon]

"Man, you're kind of a clog in the drain," she said to the Mortal-something forming in Nothing, her back turned on the miniscule decompression; eyes aimed at Irriss. Three sighed, running a free hand through snowy hair. "Don't worry too much about it, though. I worked on you. Good to see you're coming around. That probably means you're acclimating to Nothing. I'm Three, your guide to the hereafter!" That may not have been entirely the truth, despite the purple-and-white attired girl's casual way of presentation. After all, Zino Bertran had been burned alive. He probably couldn't see her face, given her position, or the slight smile she wore. What he could catch, however, through the shifting and settling of his own threads of chroma, was that this girl let her yo-yo rise and fall in perfect rhythm.

I just wanted to get my toy, came the inner petulance, much more pronounced when her mistress was not around, not haul some soul to it with me. She had thought of leaving him there, but certain things were inevitable when it came to her position. When it came to the 'big moves'. I guess this is a big move, by most regards. While she would do her best from having to admit it, Three was bored of standing around. She had been promised Irriss. That's what she wanted. Well, that and her yo-yo.

Seems like the two got tangled up, somewhere. She giggled, to herself, letting the toy fall and rise again; only to lazily snatch it into her palm and tuck it away. Nothing, as usual, felt like standing in time-abandoned static. Technically, it was native to her. The part of her that had been given more wanted nothing to do with it. Might as well get this moving! The faster he's up to speed, the faster I get to play!

"You remember dying, right?" Three's curiosity was plain, if tinged by her childish demeanor, but she still hadn't turned; slowly taking the hand from her head and pointing it in his direction. "Pretty nasty, what happened to you." She tore violet eyes from the Something she so desperately wanted to see, and turned them on the Mortal, following her own extended digit in his direction. "I've never had to do this, before. Kind of neat that it worked, huh? You don't even look like..." she shrugged, "Nevermind. Take your time, I guess I have to wait on you, anyway."

Three smiled wide, her ghostly form stark against the silent backdrop of semi-empty space; waiting for Zino to collect himself. His hands were tangled around the mask, and the ether between them churned from the void. “I… I’m dead?” He patted his face, his chest, his hands… All here... Slowly, he staggered to his feet.

Zino Bertran adjusted his clothes, pretending to dust off whatever ash remained on his suit. He looked around. Static gnawed on the corners of his vision--no, of existence. Inky darkness swirled thick between them. Zino was overwhelmed with the same feeling he had earlier: small, vulnerable, exposed. He hated it. He steeled himself against it. “What do you want with me? Why have you brought me here?!” His knuckles grew white around the Semblance. “Is this about-...” His voice dropped, growing quiet. “Is this about the research?”

"That's not my business, Zinny," Three affixed him with a firm stare, but mischievous smile, hands sliding into her pockets, "My job was to get you here, and then to there. And to answer that very astute question; yes. Yes, you were dead. Now you're not. You're welcome." She took up her favorite spot in Nothing, leaning against the non-existent and, again, flipping the non-existent. Three didn't deign to blink for a long while, taking a cue from her constant exposure to a more reserved and frightening companion. "Not that you ever offered your name." Then she went back to herself, leaning farther back and slightly tilting her nose up at him. In her pockets, her fingers wriggled and fought with what was probably her yo-yo. It was not.

Poor Mortals. You guys could get to have fun your whole lives, but then you end up in a place like this. Talking about research. What. A. Drag.

"Your research is probably boring. Take it up with my mistress if you want to know more about why, when she's around. Though that might be a while. She's awfully busy, over on 'your side' of things." Three assumed he would understand, at least somewhat, but didn't much feel like she had to explain. Instead, she proceeded with her usual routine, producing non-existent glasses and placing them snugly on her upturned snout. "It's really more about the thing you picked up, in that furnace."

I like that word! 'Furnace' could probably be used all kinds of ways.

She feigned removing the glasses and leaned fully against the weight of Nothing, suspending herself above the non-existent floor. A slight frown had found its way to her lips, but that was also pageantry. "It's a Semblance. You're going to be a late arrival. The rest of the Mortals you're going to be lumped in with are already there. They've got one of those, too." She stretched, putting her hands behind her head and crossing her legs. "But I really don't care if you put it on or not. On the other hand, though, I've been told to drop you off and make sure you understand. It was said like..." Three slipped into her best impression of Ghost Girl, projecting the other's voice with chilling accuracy and intonation "'Regardless of what you choose, Zino Bertran, you will eventually discover the truth behind your transference into Irriss," She broke character, pointing to the Something on Nothing's left side, "That, over there, is Irriss, by the way. In case you were wondering," then it was back to her Ghost Girl impersonation, "and the reason behind your death. The purpose for your continued existence."

Zino furrowed his brows, his lips turning into a thin line of disapproval. “Ah…” he began, looking down at the mask he held. He traced his thumb over the smooth porcelain visage. “I see.” Bertan stared into the vacuous eyes of the mask, and it remembered.

Visions of serpentine, fiery undulations dispersed hot ashes. The noise of abject terror and pain wracked his mind--the sounds of his own screaming. The stench of burning flesh, of cooked blood, of cinders, and of fear filled his nostrils. Memories of smothering smoke and the agony of all his singed nerves overwhelmed his thoughts. Petrified, he could not tear his gaze away from the false face.

He continued, eyes wide. "Yes, I... I died." Glistening beads of sweat lined the topography of his features. Questions swirled in his head. Other mortals? Where are you taking me? What is Irriss? How did you restore my body? What purpose are you talking about? What is the function of this mask? Instead, he tucked the mask into the interior pocket of his jacket, suppressing the trembling in his hands and in his voice: "Please, call me Mr. Bertran. The situation is... Less than ideal. I apologize for my rudeness, but the circumstances were poor, to say the least." Zino extended his hand in greeting. "I look forward to working together. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Three."

Zino Bertan turned his attention toward where the girl gestured. Beyond the shifting stillness of the static he could see some sort of realm. It grew into focus as he gazed upon it, studying its verdant hills and sprawling cities. Crystal towers embossed in gold gleamed in the distance--shining and exemplary. On the outskirts of the plane were immense holds, shadowy and ragged, veiled in their own tall, craggy walls. The forests, plains, and hills were dotted with smaller, mundane settlements.

This entire world is picturesque, albeit antiquated, he thought, enthralled by the view. The classified documents he read ran burning fingers through the back of his mind. The mask called out to him. It compelled him to accept, it urged him to follow along, and it drove him toward Something, toward Irriss.

"I'm ready," Zino announced. He placed a hand over the mask in his suit pocket. "I'm ready to go."

In collaboration with @Redward

[Viatos]

Tristan startled as Tabitha hugged him. Appearances suggested an experience of immutable metal, but he wasn't; immutable, anyway. Plates gave way against pressure, and soft coils of wire and repurposed flesh beneath them added little more than the usual reinforcement of a fully organic body. As she drew away, he ran a hand over his head. It was perhaps the most human gesture he'd yet evinced. Listening to her, he laughed - or produced the sound - and it was almost his laugh,

"Who else would I...thank you. I guess I'm a little scared -"

That ocean knows no boundaries, submits to no human cartography. Even the sky is drowning.

"-myself. But less so, now. You're right. We can't lose focus. Our friends are waiting. And...I'm sorry too,
Tabitha. I could have been kinder. I told myself it wasn't my business, but really I didn't think anything was my business. Except business. It's no way to live. Pain IS a boundary, but not one that ought be left long unbreached. I could have been kinder to you."

Tristan paused to take in the sight of Anni flying past them, her face a setting-sun counterpoint to the pale-winged boy she'd left behind. Again? He hadn't been paying close enough attention; he could only assume. He sighed, or affected to sigh, and made a gesture towards the event that almost seemed to hold a smile. "Not that every boundary needs crossing, eh?"

He laughed again, and then stopped, his tone returning to an intensity-edged neutrality. "This moment pays for the rest, Tabitha. A prelude to the one where we go home again, and get to tell Lane and Rani we're back.

Nobody's getting left behind."

[Redward]

Three considered him for a moment, before lightly shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you, too, Zino. Don't expect me to call you mister anything, though." It was then that her Mortal companion turned his attention to the Irriss Something, seeming enthralled. She watched him watch, indigo eyes focused on both the man and the realm she so desperately wished to explore. It wasn't long before he announced his readiness. Three smiled broadly, folding her arms. At least I'm not the only one.

She hopped forward, so close to the thin veil between Something and Nothing that it began to twitch and distort; creating ripples across the face of Irriss. Holes appeared, tiny and few, as her interference with its existence grew. Her heart thudded rapidly and she drew in a sharp breath, more excited than she had been in some time. "Zino," she said, turning to give him a look filled with some meaning, "moving through this barrier will be strange for you, but it'll only last a second. You might not even really remember it, once we're on the other side." She swayed back and forth, watching the melting edges of the membrane. "Just a warning, that's all." Where she had pointed, before, now she beckoned; urging him to come stand at her side.

You're lucky I'm not going to let you disperse, again. If my mistress hadn't told me... The thought was cut short, Three not wanting to linger on the distraction of Zino Bertran's presence for much longer. Ghost Girl had her purpose for him. Three didn't have a large part in that plan, and getting to Irriss was far more important to her than the purpose he would serve; or whatever 'truths' would be revealed to him, through his time in Irriss. The distortions grew wild and impatient, the tiny holes yawning and snapping closed; only to open and close again, some of them straining against their confines to drift in her direction.

Three's smile was wide, her face alight with glee; her eyes practically lambent in the smog of Nothing. Slowly, she reached forward; gently touching the extended distortion. It enveloped her fingers, tearing that part of her away, but they were not yet in the corporeal Something. Transference was precise, and Three was not as proficient as her owner. She was, however, competent enough to manage the process. I'm getting there, though. Going to Irriss is different than going to Earth or Nothing. Time to give it a try!

"Alright, now, all you have to do is relax," her eyes drifted to him, again, "take my hand, and we'll be on our way." She lifted an eyebrow, pondering for a moment. "If you have questions, now is probably a good time. I don't plan to hang around, once we're on the other side. I have a lot of things I want to do."

Zino Bertran took her small hand in his own. It was surprisingly soft for someone beyond the mortal coil, and the realization caught him off-guard. It would be almost humanizing, if Three were not otherwise so foreign. He still was unsure that any of these experiences were real. If this is truly another world and not some… Fever dream, he thought dryly, I had better follow her instructions.

“I have no idea what it is I'm here for…” He offered. Zino studied her face for a few moments, searching for some sort of reassurance. Despite appearing to take his death and resurrection in stride, he was afraid. His mind was reeling. Just moments before, he had breathed his last painful gasp. Now he was being thrown into another plane, another world--where he was unsure of the goals, the rules, and his place. He steeled himself.

There was no better way to find out what was going on than to go forward. Zino nodded and continued. “It can't be coincidence. Your 'mistress’ brought me here for a reason… If I were more informed,” he offered, “I would be of better use.”

"If you can figure that out, you should be able to hazard a guess at what you're supposed to do," Three continued staring at him, slowly extending her arm into the Something, "which would have something to do with a Mask," she was broken to the shoulder, despite only her elbow being immersed in Irriss. Three had come loose from herself, again, breaking away from the outline of her form. Purple and black mingled in spikes and swirls, drawing her attention for a moment. "What does one usually do with a Mask, Zino?" The disintegration continued, with Three stepping forward; giving a gentle tug on the Mortal's hand as she did.

She stared ahead, pressing her face against the breaking barrier. Sliding through was easy, and ensuring that the both of them kept their forms was simple enough. Three's heart fell, a little. Maybe Irriss is no different? Nothing became Something, from the unchanging static to a world that screamed with life. Three took a moment to adjust, still partially lingering in the temporary space between states of being. Her outline solidified, fingers first. Then how she envisioned herself manifested. Now for him. She concentrated similarly on Zino Bertran and everything she knew of his existence. I held it in my hands as threads and put it back together, just like she did. That was enough to set the process into motion and complete it, all at once. Zino was, once again, standing before her.

It was probably instant for him. Wonder if Mortals see that not-place when they pass through it as a Corporeal Entity?

Zino let go of her hand. He steadied himself, his feet adjusting the sensation of ground beneath his feet, his eyes adjusting to the light of Something. His stomach lurched in his gut. Strange, he thought to himself, looking down at the mask. He did not put it on, in spite of her taunting hints, in spite of his own curiosity.

It was obvious there was a connection between the documents, the bizarre mask, and the realm of Irriss. Zino Bertran ran his thumb across the soot-stained white surface. His mind raced as he muttered to himself. “Remains found in the incinerator at the new facility belonging to…” The man gave a macabre smile. “Data expunged.” His fist tightened around the porcelain. “Object of interest missing. Homicide, breaking and entering, destruction of property, Grand theft…” he sighed. “Suspect unknown.”

He was glad to be beyond the swirling, gnawing abyss. Still, knowledge chewed on the back of his mind, begging to be recalled. Zino glanced around, almost surprised that the strange Three psychopompos had lingered. He saw no others. “I thought you said there would be mortals?” In the distance beyond the tree line was a billowy puff of white smoke: a clear sign of civilization. He shuddered. “Ah. I assume it lies just past this outcrop…”

Zino Bertran studied her again, watching her hands, considering the way her slim, pale fingers had teased at corporeality and stitched him together again. Already, the memory was fading. He lifted his ice grey eyes to meet her own. “Miss Clothos,” he jested dryly. “I can assume that this mask is of great power…” He glanced at it. “Or at least of great importance. You won't tell me what happens if it's worn?” Zino glanced warily at the column of smoke. “Or why your mistress would want to impart this… Gift... to me?”

He couldn't bite back his skepticism any longer. It was testing the limits of his ability to trust. He had been killed for this mask. It was no coincidence he had ended up here. Zino’s eyes flicked over her again, narrowing. Did her mistress order me to be killed? What am I doing?! He closed his eyes. Why me?

"There are. Either in the town," Three's gaze fell on the veil hiding Silverbrook, affirming the man's conjecture, "or down the path. I'm dropping you here because, well, it's up to you." Three produced her yo-yo with unnatural fluidity, letting it roll, "It's a crossroad. Classic choice, right?" It spun against the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust, "Same with the Semblance." Her hand closed around it, as it returned. An inevitable result. Silverbrook was technically under the influence of Magician, the caretaker of those Mortal souls; until her mistress returned.

That leaves me free to do what I want. She took in a slow breath. So why should it bother me that they're in his hands? Part of her felt the choice was a bad one, even though she knew little of Magician.

"Putting it on will be an experience. To survive in a world like Irriss," Three took on a serious demeanor, despite how poorly it suited her, "You need to be willing to make choices that have irrevocable consequences. Even if you're not aware of how far they extend." Of course, the vagaries had to be presented. Facts as phantasms. The idea that this matters. Again the yo-yo ran its course, returning in half an instant. "Silverbrook, or the others? With or without donning your Semblance?" She didn't smile, but Three did shift her eyes, "If you want answers, I suggest seeking out Magician. He's another of my mistress' assistants. Either will get you there."

Once more, the yo-yo came and went. White blurring and purple stretching as it made its mad rotations. "I can tell you that the Semblance is pretty handy, from what I've seen." She wouldn't go out of her way to make a strong case for wearing it. That was, after all, not her job. "As to why my mistress decided to gift one to you," Three turned on her heels, snatching her toy up gently and putting it back into her pocket; along with her hands, "I couldn't say. I don't know what she sees in any of you." The path stretched on, for a ways, unbroken and unoccupied. "I'm going to leave, soon." Her eyes drifted to Zino, their gazes locking for a moment. She saw the questions, still unasked and the roiling uncertainty that came with death and rebirth. The suspicion. Three gave him a smile, half-cocked and distantly amused.

"So, unless you've got something really pressing in mind, this is goodbye."

Zino simply dipped his head--either as a nod of recognition or as a small bow of gratitude. “I'll make my way to the Magician.” A pause. “Goodbye, Miss Three.”

[+]

In collaboration with @Mammon!

[Redward]

They had resumed walking, after Anni had been calmed by Kate and the rest of the group agreed to continue moving forward. Toward the only place we really got to go. Kinda excited! Fuck yeah! She didn't do much to show it, but Tabitha Calvicante was in a pretty good mood. Her talk with Tristan had alleviated a small part of her self-imposed burden; the two of them cracking open a door she thought had been locked with heavy chains. It was him, and that conversation that occupied her mind; at the moment.

That's pretty deep, man, Tabitha had said, a crooked smile making its way to her lips, Ya speakin' my mind, here, really. I'm scared, too, ya know? The latter part had been whispered, to avoid prying ears. Despite the strange change in their situation, Tabitha still felt she had her pride to protect. Ain't no need to apologize to me, Tristan, She had said, still smiling, hopping to put another step between them, I always try to keep my problems to myself, and that ain't gonna cut it, I think. Ya made me realize somethin', she grew serious, meeting Tristan's myriad gaze, with what ya said about Rani and Lane. Ya absolutely right. They gonna be worried. They gonna assume we been up to somethin'. We gonna do our best to get back to 'em. To get back home. It didn't need to be said, but Tabitha wanted her new-old companion to know exactly where she stood.

Though, really the Tabitha that was currently walking the path, trailing still behind the others, thought, I ain't so sure we gonna make it with everyone in one piece. Silver eyes roved over their backs. The cop, the light-hearted girl and her more serious companion, Ascot with his angel wings, Stormy and the psycho. Again came the crooked smile. Maybe she had been wrong about them. Maybe, just maybe, she would do what she could to watch their backs. But I ain't got a power, like they do...but I can make that change, I already came close...and if not, fuck, I've got the gun Tristan gave me. She trailed a sleeve-consumed hand over her face, over the long 'scar' of ink that sat opposite her teardrop tattoo. Again, she felt the force from when she had conversed with Stormy. This time, however, it came with a pressure. Her fingers hurt and her temples throbbed, forcing Tabitha to slow her pace; another hand coming up to cradle her head. Though it only lasted for a bare moment; it was excruciating, causing her to stop walking, leaning up against a tree, until the discomfort passed.

What was I thinkin' about, again?

...

Oh, right! What me and Tristan was talkin' about. The distance they had traveled was apparent, with the slow shift of the landscape. The forest and path remained much the same, save for the thinning of the canopy and a slow decrease in the density of the trees. She didn't know, for sure, but Tabitha's gut told her they were getting closer. Idly she took note of a long, thick pillar of some rising in the distance. We must be gettin' close! Hell yeah! Despite the excitement, she wanted to recall what had bee said. It was important to her, regardless of how little Tabitha wanted to let anyone else now she was lingering on it.

He said, uh...fuck.

Pain is a boundary, but not one that ought be left long unbreached. He got that one right, for sure.

Nodding to herself, she took more fluid strides. Then I said; We just gotta be willin' to make that step, right? Tabitha wasn't sure if he understood her full meaning, but it wasn't something she was in a rush to bring up. Then they had heard something that actually brought a deep flush to Tabitha's face. A blush, for the first time in she couldn't remember how long. She desperately had wished Ascot would shut his mouth and leave her out of whatever he was scheming.

Though, on the real, it coulda been- As she had, several times before, Tabitha gave herself a hearty smack on the cheek. Now fully settled into the present, she took her eyes away from the group and let them linger on other things. Irriss was full of small wonders, she had noticed. Weird, pretty flowers. Some crazy mushrooms, here and there. And us. That made her think, again, to Tristan.

This moment pays for the rest, she repeated, internally, kicking a small rock off of the path as she passed by, We definitely payin' for somethin'. We already paid to be here. She didn't say what had crossed her mind, at this comment. That they had more than paid for what was coming to them; whether that be for better or worse.

Now, the pillar of smoke was a bit more pronounced; and Tabitha could swear that she heard heavy clanging in the distance. Thankfully the path was straight, and their view didn't change much; except the passing of trees and an outcropping of stone, eaten by vegetation, that came right before a bend in the path. "If I was a bettin' girl, I'd say Silverbook is right over there." It was an utterance, as she was sure someone at the head of the group was already taking note about it; but she pointed anyway, smiling.

Indeed, just beyond the small stone veil; there was a city. More like a pisshole. A village, perhaps, given her lack of knowledge about antiquated habitations. So this is where Magician is? I was expectin' weird towers and gargoyles, or some shit. Place looks pretty fuckin' borin'. She sighed, a little; falling a bit farther behind the group.

[Letter Bee]

Ascot blinked and spoke, "What did I do wrong?" He had genuinely thought that Anni was going to ask him out but had changed her question at the last minute.

Isn't that egotistic? asked part of himself, the part that realized his error. The boy nodded to himself, dumbstruck. He then gave it some thought. I thought Anni had a crush on me and that was what she really wanted to ask. I was wrong. I also thought that Anni would accept my offer so readily. But, why did I ask her out in the first place? She is attractive and sweet, true, and I do like her...but she isn't Saffron. Or rather, she wasn't what I thought Saffron was.

Then it hit him; he was still distraught about Saffron. Saffron had rejected him, and now he was looking for someone to serve as his 'rebound partner'. That was wrong. He looked at Michael Keahi, ashen-faced.

"Officer," he would say, "It seems as though I made a mistake. Forgive me for my immaturity. I hope Anni forgives me as well." I am so stupid! A sigh. "I will make it up to her."

A glance at Saffron, then back to Michael as Silverbrook came to view. Silverbrook seemed to be one's 'generic medieval village', only strangely clean, with houses made up of wood and earth, with brick being a luxury. The pillar of smoke came from an inn/tavern that would not look strange in Skyrim (He had quit playing that game some time ago), an inn/tavern they cannot afford right now. Ascot's stomach rumbled, as he also saw an open-air market where fruit, vegetables, and meat, some recognizable, some alien, were sold.

The inhabitants looked...cheery. Cheery to the point of strangeness. They were also human-looking; unexpected, but not entirely weird. They also looked like medieval peasants, but cleaner.

He looked towards Michael, saying: "There is a lot of food but we have no legal tender. You might need to prevent someone from stealing. Also, if there is a mind-reader in our group, we might need to use them in order to figure out just what the customs of this place are..."

A look at Koda.

@Redward@Etranger@Ceta de Cloyes@Scarescrow@Viatos@jdh97@Mammon

[Etranger]

"Uh, I dunno..." Michael replied to the question of powers. He felt something, that was for sure, but he wasn't sure what that entailed. Ascot had broken out this wacky goo, but could anybody do that? Did everyone get their own thematic power set? As Ascot turned to look at and speak to others, Michael briefly considered experimenting with what he was capable of. He had no idea how he was supposed to do anything, but he tried the cliche option and looked at knifey dundee and thought really hard about getting a more convenient way of carrying the bastard.

Before he knew it, some weird rope made of light shot out of his arm and wrapped around the cocoon. "Oh, sweet!" Michael exclaimed. Things were looking up if they could do all kinds of neat stuff like this. Looking back to Ascot, it seemed he was having a conversation with Anni. It sounded like they were getting in pretty deep on the subject of ghosty's intentions. For Michael, the question was easy; no they couldn't trust her, yes they did have to go along the path she set out unless they wanted to wander around and get murdered by whatever was lurking out there.

The other's conversation changed topic rather quickly, however, as Ascot started talking about what he liked in a girl. Not only that, but he decided now was the perfect time to propose a group date for them all. Michael could only stare in disbelief as he spoke about it. What happened to the guy that was so determined to get them moving? But the best part was how Anni reacted. She bolted away as though Ascot had just put the fear of God in her. Michael couldn't help but laugh heartily at the spectacle. It was made even better by how cut up about it Ascot seemed. It was like he had sincerely expected a happy ending to that bizarre proposal.

"Hey, don't apologise to me." He told Ascot at the time. "But let's just get going. Time heals, kid." It was probably for the best that they just put it behind them and kept going. It was best for the two kids, and best that they didn't sit around dwelling on all this silly business. Michael did hope they didn't have to keep dealing with Ascot's hormonal impulses the whole way though.

Eventually, they arrived at what they could all only guess was Silverbrook. Almost on cue, Ascot piped up with some advice. "We'll deal with that when it comes, buddy." He hoped nobody was honestly planning to start stealing off the bat. Nobody knew what they would be dealing with here, so acting recklessly was beyond stupidity. "I'm going to go get the info we need. Keep an eye on our little buddy, okay?" He told him, releasing his handy dandy new energy rope from the cocoon. Hopefully they wouldn't have any trouble with the psycho while he was gone. He would keep him under watch, but approaching a town of theoretically normal people with a prisoner in two seemed like a bad idea.

Moving forward, Michael picked out a man sitting closest to the entrance they had arrived at. "Uh, hello?" Michael spoke to him, not sure what to expect from these people.

The man turned to him and greeted him with an enormous smile. "Good day! Nice day for fishing, aint it? Heheh!"

There was something immediately off putting about him, as far as Michael was concerned. Something about his eyes? Pushing aside the weird vibe, Michael continued his questioning. "Uh, yeah. Um, I don't know if this a weird question or not, but do you know where I can find a guy called the "Magician"?" Again, he had no idea who the Magician actually was, or how these people would take to mention of him.

"Oh yeah, I know about him! He lives the abandoned fort, a few miles away." The man replied cheerfully. He was still creeping Michael out, but at least he had gotten the info he needed.

"Okay, thanks very much." Michael said before leaving to make his way back to the group. Arriving back with them, he began, "Alright, looks like there's another few miles walk to actually find the guy we're looking for. Do we all feel like carrying on, or will we take a break here?" He wasn't sure if they would all have the stamina for another hike, and lord only new what awaited them at this fort. But on the other hand, Michael wasn't too sure about staying here either, given how weird the guy he just spoke to seemed. He would have to see what the mood was like before proceeding.

@Letter Bee