[IC] Worlds Apart

[Redward]

Tabitha, too, had requested food somewhere along the way. Ellard seemed intent on lingering near her, though he walked a bit ahead, and she was intent on lingering near Tristan. She was tired. Her feet had started aching, somewhere along the Long Walk; but they were heading in the right direction. About time, too. Silverbrook had fallen behind them and a large tower had come into view. When she first saw it, dread had pressed into her navel and spread sharp fingers through her guts. Tension was high, at least for her. Everyone seems kinda fucked up, right now, anyway. One person in particular. Koda, I talked to him on the tracks. Ignored him when he asked me to help Michael.

"Ellard," that earned a turn of the boy's head and all of his attention, "s'about time ya start tellin' us what we need to know." Tabitha had her arms folded over her stomach, cradling herself in hopes of dispelling the ill feelings that seemed to be lingering in and ahead of her. "Pretty sure that big fuckin' thing is where he stays, right? Ya ever been inside?" Ellard shook his head, and she gave a slight nod of understanding. "Ok, so what do ya know about that place?" She pointed at it, for emphasis.

Against the waning sunlight, the tower was an adumbral spike; an oddly uneven silhouette that seemed to waver and give little wiggles in the distance. From where they stood, they could see that the spire rose from a squat complex. Tabitha tried to take it all in, but the details were hazy. We gotta get closer. She wasn't sure what banter had taken place, during their walk. The harlequin had hardly spoken a word, unless it was to Tristan or Ellard. Even then it was short and uncharacteristically reserved. Though, from time to time, she found herself quietly giggling. While she wouldn't say it, Tabitha Calvicante was scared. She had done her best to remain distracted, in her own head, thinking of pleasant things; even if those, too, reminded her of home and Rani and Lane and her mother. Will crossed her mind, several times.

"I know that he isn't like an angel or monster, I've seen those before," Ellard spoke loudly enough for the entire group to hear, though his voice sounded uneven; like it might crack, "He's something else. When he came to town, it was on a festival night." How many fuckin' festivals did those guys have? "Me, my mother and my sister were here with a caravan. The people in Silverbrook weren't like...like they are now, when we arrived." Tabitha watched his shoulders drop. She cast a glance at Tristan, then slowly away; letting her gaze flitter over the others. "It started happening the night we got there. A few people said they heard whispers. Others said they heard laughter." The boy's eyes drifted skyward, his head tilting back. "We stayed the night. Everyone had the same dream. I...I don't know if I'd call it a nightmare, but it was certainly strange."

Tabitha didn't interject, but she was curious. She already knew that Magician was influencing minds; that much was obvious. Seems like there's more to it, though. Wonder just what the fuck that thing is up to. Taking her hands from her stomach, she let one linger at her side while the other toyed with the hat-tendrils coiled around her throat. Her eyes roamed, again, to Tristan. Her mouth half opened, then slowly closed; a smile in place of words unspoken. Now ain't the time to be runnin' my mouth. I should be listenin'. Again, they drifted away. To Anni, to Ascot, to Zino, to Stormy, to Mike, to Oedipus, then back to Ellard.

"Some of the townfolk decided..." He tensed, slightly shaking his head and looking at the group, "that a lady who had traveled with us, some kind of mystic, was responsible. They...in the morning they..." Tabitha lifted an eyebrow, letting her fingers fall away from soft fabric, "They drowned her. That's when he appeared." A visible shiver ran through the boy. "He looks like something out of a fever dream. He was taller than any man, at least any I had ever seen. He wore a mask of white and gold, without holes for eyes, and an open robe of red. He was...like a corpse. Rotten wrappings covered almost everything. His voice was like...like parchment being torn." She tried to envision it, but wasn't sure the thing that came to mind was anywhere close.

A mask, though, huh? Sounds like this shit's kind of a big deal. We all got Masks, he got a mask. Fuck.

She sighed, quietly. Ellard was fighting down his terror, again. Tabitha admired that about the kid. He was brave enough to face his fears. It made her feel a little inadequate, though. Now her eyes were locked on the Magician's abode. It had been steadily growing larger, as they walked. She could pick out little details; like the spikes that jutted outward from the top of the spire. Looks like some kinda evil flower. Or, at least, that was the best way she could think to comprehend it. Her pace was slowing, aching tracing along her arches and up her calves. Despite how used she was to walking, running and climbing, this trek was turning out to be murder. As she mulled that over, another small giggle escaped her. Tabitha put a hand to her mouth, her eyes dropping. What the fuck is wrong with me...

"He told us that we would be punished for that woman's death," Anger crept into his words, "all of us. That's when it started. He threw his arms out, wide, and we were changed. I remember it well, now. I could hear his voice in my head, hundreds of his words, all at once wrapping around my thoughts and...and as it stopped, I stopped being...being me." Tabitha felt a chill, at that. The thought of it added to her own growing fear. "We all stopped being us. Festivals started happening every other day. People would celebrate and someone would be chosen to walk this path to his keep. My mother, my sister...he seemed to be choosing the outsiders. I think..." Tabitha's stomach knotted up, she had a feeling she knew what was coming.

Poor kid. M'glad we gotcha outta there. But now, aren't we just takin' ya right to him? That's kind of fucked up.

"I think I was going to be next." Ellard spoke with dread, but he seemed to be steeling himself. "If that's the truth, I want to know why! It's why I wanted to come along with you! I want to know what happened to my mother and sister!" He exhaled deeply, his hands curling into tight fists. "H-He has powers, I've seen him do strange things. Aside from what happened to the people in the village. I've seen him create things from the dirt, that looked like people; that could move and even talk like people. Fire that circled around him like snakes. I don't know what else he can do, but I'm sure it's a lot...and I'm sure it's all terrible."

Ellard fell quiet, after that; turning to give a brief look to Tabitha. Neither of them were smiling, but their eyes met. He seemed more comfortable around the group. Tabitha was a little thankful for that; it meant that she wasn't his sole caretaker. He had become something of a shared responsibility, in her mind. Though, what Zino said earlier was probably true. Bringing Ellard along was a bad idea.

We probably shoulda just sent him the other way. Would be safer, for sure. Then again, he coulda died on the path. The Long Walk? I can see why they'd fuckin' call it that. What's death even mean, anymore, anyway? I mean, fuck, we all died. Look how bad that turned out!

Tabitha giggled, then lightly slapped herself; quiet so she didn't interrupt or draw attention beyond what might already be on her. Really, her heart was sinking. Others in the group had exhibited their gifted abilities. Some used them constantly. I've got nothin'. I can't do nothin' except run my mouth. She still felt the strange something in and around her. It was dull, rght now. Much less than it had been when she had walked alongside Stormy. "Like static, or a dream ya can't remember..." It was a whisper, Tabitha holding her hand out; her purple and green sleeve falling a little over her extended fingers. That, too, was funny; for some reason. Tabitha focused on it, imagining that she was drawing the part of it she felt outside inward.

There ain't nothin' there. She was fuckin' with me. I just want to be able to do somethin'! This shit ain't right! Throw me in a fuckin' clown suit and leave me to die in some other fucked up world?! I'll fuckin' show you! I'll fuckin' show you, Magician, all of them! Everyone! Don't fuck with me! Don't fuck with me! Don't you dare try to fuckin' pull this shit on me! I trusted you! I believed what you said about this place! I stepped on those fuckin' tracks so I could kill you! I stepped on those tracks so my-

Her heart skipped a beat and her thoughts faltered; a realization of the truth too much to articulate, even in her head. She lowered her hand, frowning. Tabitha couldn't look at any of them. I ain't worthless. I ain't. So, instead, her eyes became glued to her feet. Wrapped in the same stocking that covered most of her legs. One step followed another, as they inched ever closer to Magician's ominous abode. She felt her stomach and throat tense. The sun was close to setting and they still had a way to go.

[Letter Bee]

Ascot blinked as he heard the other boy's words. "So...the townsfolk are bad, the Magician is also bad, and the latter may have started the whole thing if I assume he sent the dream that started it all. And apparently, the Magician is also about to get his hands on you." Ascot was angry at that; could imagine himself wrapping his hands around Magician's throat. "As I said, I'll protect you, Ellard."

I have a fixation with cute people close to my age with tragic backstories. That thought was valid. Then, a delayed response to Zino as the boy turned around and said, "Yes, we jumped onto the train tracks; Ghost Girl promised us powers and a trip to another world as a response. We got both, but well, we also had her controlling the flow of information." A frown. "I sort of trusted her; even now, I don't think she or the Magician will directly harm us as they need their pawns."

Then back to Ellard and Tabitha as the young man finally mustered the courage to talk to the latter. "Ms. Tabitha...are you okay? Perhaps you need something to eat?" He flew back to Officer Keahi or whoever carried the food and took some cucumbers. He absentmindely gave one to Koda, and gave another to Tabitha as he said, "Here. Also, it seems that we might need to fight against a...veteran. A veteran in this Magic thing. We have numbers, but there is a strong chance we'd lose."

A frown. "Which is why we need a battle plan; a plan to coordinate with each other to fight the Magician while protecting Ellard. And, to be honest, people have not been responsive to my request to tell me about their powers. A few haven't even put on their masks. But I think with a good enough plan, we can still win, and after that, we can seize the Magician's records or spellbooks and get the knowledge we need for an independent agenda."

He paused and pursed his lips. "The Magician has the advantage of home ground, as well as being able to talk us into a false sense of security with the promise of information. I think that the best plan is to pretend to be willing to listen to his explanations for why he committed such a crime, then attack him by surprise. I volunteer to launch the first move, and I think Michael and Tristan should coordinate with me; in fact, I'll tell them right now."

And with that, he flew away from Ellard and Tabitha and finally drew close to Tristan since their first coming to Iriss. He would then fly close to Tristan's ear, and whisper, "I have a strategy against the Magician. We talk to him then attack him. But...I also have my own paranoid suspicions; Ellard, though cute, has a story that is a bit too convinient. Call it 'Epileptic Trees', sorry for troping, but I think he might be The Magician himself and this is all part of one bigger test. Keep my suspicions under wraps; if I am wrong, I want a date with Ellard."

He then flew over to Michael Keahi, before saying, slightly louder: "We talk to the Magician until he believes he lulled us to a false sense of security, then attack him." No mention was made of the sudden paranoid guessing about Ellard. "We may also need to unleash Mr. Psycho at him, if we can guarantee that he won't turn against us."

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

[TaroAndSelia]

Angels and monsters. A nightmare and a terrible spell. Festivals and missing persons. And that funny feeling never went away, not so long as she was listening to Ellard speak. The knot in her stomach had unwound to a degree, but that only made space for butterflies as she sincerely listened to the boy's words. Anni hadn't seen very much of the town--no; she had avoided looking at the town,so she never saw how the people acted. Some of what was said she simply didn't understand.

"It doesn't make sense," Kate voiced from beside her. "Did the spell affect him or didn't it?"

"What?" Anni asked, startled.

"He said the spell changed him, too, but he isn't acting like the others." Kate's face creased in a deep frown.

"Kate, you shouldn't-" Anni began, but she cut her reprimand short when Mr. Bert dropped within earshot.

‘Does that boy think with only his testes?’ Mr. Bertran thought dryly as his hand slapped the center of his own forehead. The winged Ascot had just announced his ideas to the entire group, including Ellard. Whatever magics the Magician was using to control minds, or to bend the earth into sentient beings, or to hold significance to both Three and the ghost girl could surely be used to spy on their party. Even if it had been a good idea to attack their assigned mentor, they had lost the element of surprise.

‘Still, in all probability… It wasn’t too great a misstep. The ghost girl has spent too much of her time and resources to host this expedition into Irriss. If she simply wanted subservient soldiers she could have easily made them from the village-folk. Underneath the veil of his palm, Zino smiled. “Sorry, Miss Three. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” His mind struggled to focus on the moment they had shared just before he entered Irriss, but it eluded him like the details of a dream upon waking. He thought about the way her slim hand felt in his, the childish way she tilted her head, and that toothy grin. ‘Yes, of course she’s someone I can trust.”

Zino pulled his hands away from his face, the conversation of the girls catching his attention. He had been trying to stay away from the local boy, but the snippets of conversation he did catch seemed to contradict each other. ‘Either this Ellard child possesses some sort of strange and unlikely immunity to the Magician’s magic, or the spell has affected him…’ Youth were so often overlooked by adults and trusted by one another; perhaps the pair could offer him a different kind of insight that the mechanical man lacked. They were certainly quick-witted and observant.

“Shouldn’t what, Miss Anni?” The agent questioned. He gave his best attempt at a warm smile. It probably missed the mark, but the effort was there.

Anni looked up, a little embarrassed. Nevertheless, she met his gaze and firmly declared, ”I don’t think it’s right to doubt someone when they haven’t done anything wrong. Not that boy, and not the Magician either. And-” Anni’s voice dwindled to barely a murmur. ”And not the Ghost Girl.”

Zino nodded slowly. This was an innocence he had not encountered for a long time. His eyes shifted uncomfortably away from Anni to an older girl named Kate—based on Anni’s interjection—and back again. “Ellard and the Magician can’t both be trusted. Our information about the Magician doesn’t match what was said by the boy…” The man slowed his gait to walk alongside them. Bertran pushed the glasses on his nose higher with two leather-bound fingers.

“I don’t know anything about Ellard, but it is my opinion that actions speak louder than words. So far, Ghost Girl has done exactly as she promised you. She brought you to Irriss, she granted you a mask—which we know for a fact have powers.” He tried to sound reassuring, but he knew his voice was far too cold for that. “If she is known for offering this choice on the tracks, too, she couldn’t be responsible for my murder either. It fails to match her modus operandi.”

‘In fact, this whole mind-control business is decidedly not like her. Even if she is less than wholesome, she always granted her victims the choice…’ His brow knitted wrinkles into the porcelain skin of his forehead. Anxiety stewed in his gut.

”Can you tell me about that?” Anni exclaimed. She put a hand over her mouth, surprised with the volume of her sudden outburst. ”I mean, how did you die? And… And before that, were you hearing her call, too?” she asked again, quieter this time.

“Huh?” Zino blinked, taken aback by her straightforwardness. He had asked the same question to the group earlier. It was only fair that he answered—and it took mutual trust to make friendships work. He found his arms wrapped around himself again. “O-oh, right… I didn’t hear any clarion call, if that’s what you mean… I was tracking classified documentation that had been maliciously misplaced. It was relocated to a trash furnace and… I was locked inside.” His throat grew tight as he spoke, and he could feel the words start to hitch in his mouth. “Burned alive,” he swallowed, then added “In a trash fire.”

A shudder raced down Anni’s spine. She reached forward and placed a hand on Zino’s crossed arms. ”I’m sorry,” was all she could say. ”I guess, by comparison, being killed by a train was merciful. That’s why I wanted to know about-” Again, Anni cut off her own words as her thoughts swam faster than she could organize, let alone express.

Kate snorted. ”This is insane. We’re talking about how we died?”

”No. Or, yes.” Anni squinched her eyes shut as she sought after words capable of conveying her mind. ”Mr. Bert, you said ‘classified documentation?’ About the deaths on C-route? I wasn’t just meaning the tangible call--for me, that was the dreams that started a few weeks ago. Even before that, I was… I was drawn to the rumors of the Ghost Girl. I listened to every story. So when she finally… summoned us, I was ready to go. I wanted to be here.

“I was only wondering if maybe you hadn’t heard that call as loudly. And…” Here was what Anni was almost frightened to voice, but she steeled her nerve as she spoke. She was among friends here. “And I wonder if I hadn’t been listening, if I would have died somewhere else anyway. She warned us that some things are inevitable; maybe bringing us to the train was so we wouldn’t suffer as much on the way.”

Kate’s mouth hung wide. She was speechless. How many miles had Anni walked with that bottled up inside?

Bertran sighed heavily, unfolding his arms and shoving his hands into his pockets. He had underestimated just how smart Anni was. ‘Perhaps this was Ghost Girl’s means of contacting me—she made sure I saw those documents. ...What a puppetmaster.’ Zino closed his eyes, painting a stern expression across his features. “Perhaps… The more I think about it, the more it seems like the documents I read were somehow deeply related. They were all destroyed in the fire, though.” Even if he was no longer bound by an oath made in life, Zino felt it would be a breach of contract to reveal the secrets of his agency.

”Wait, Anni! You can’t really think-! There’s no way you would have died!”

”I don’t know,” Anni admitted with a shake of her head. ”I just mean that, whatever we will be asked to do, I think the Ghost Girl has done this much for us. So please, don’t doubt. And,” Anni added, casting her eyes toward Ascot as he jumped between persons, “don’t fight.”

[Etranger]

"Yep." Michael responded casually to Zino's question. Though he had a feeling it was less of a question and more of a confused statement. "He might be a son of a bitch, but he's our son of a bitch for now." He would've elaborated on his rationalisation for taking this creep along with them, but the psycho quickly soured the mood by piping up with his own nasty commentary. Michael could only scoff as he spoke. Zino made his disgust equally clear. "You know I'm going to make absolutely sure you don't get what you want now that you've told me, right?" He told beaky boy. As nice as it might have been to guarantee his silence, he sincerely doubted the integrity of a promise offered by this asshole. Besides, if he wanted to be dragged around by Anni, that more than likely meant he felt there would be some gain in doing so, whether he thought it would be easy to escape from her, or to talk poison into her ear, or perhaps because he just had some creepy kiddy fetish. Whatever the reason, Michael Keahi was not going to give this guy what he wanted under any circumstances. On top of everything, there were two practical concerns; for one, he wasn't sure he could just hand this rope around, seeing as it seemed to project from his hand, vanishing when he consciously released it, and secondly, he wasn't sure Anni could actually drag this guy anywhere. She hadn't even put on her own mask, so she was just a normal young girl right now.

Their resident hippy broke up the conversation with a request for food. He would've freely given it, but Zino took the initiative to pass it out for him. "Grab whatever you want in future. I'm not really in charge of the food. Just the bagman." God only knew Ascot seemed to just take what he wanted whenever he felt like it. Apart from that, it didn't seem like they were in a position were they needed to ration their food just yet. These addled villagers may have been weird, but they were certainly generous. It also seemed like the man she looked at really did need a bite to eat. Taking a look himself, he recognised him as the other one that had tried to help in his last moments at the station. He was tempted to say something, but they all needed to get moving.

Once they were on the move, Ellard was prompted to tell them what he had promised. The story quickly proved to be as depressing as Michael expected it to be. As far as he could tell, this was all one big crime of passion. The villagers had acted out of fear, and the Magician had retaliated out of anger. It was hardly right for any of them to have acted the way they did, but it wasn't as simple as one or the other acting like monsters. Especially as they seemingly lived in a world where magical nonsense really did exist, it was hardly unreasonable to suspect people of using magic to fuck with one another. This was a muddy situation they were treading into, if everything was assumed to be true.

Of course, the veracity of the story seemed to be coming under suspicion from what Michael could see. He heard that Kate woman voice her own concerns. It did beg the question as to how he suddenly came loose of the effects of whatever had happened. But who could be sure what was and wasn't for certain in this world? Could certain people break free of magical spells? Michael hated having to guess at every assumption. At least with the police, there would usually be cases that could be solved with Occam's Razor, and the ones that couldn't at least had a degree of conventional logic underlying them.

But the worst part was that Ascot was starting to sound like he wanted to jump the gun on this one. He seemed to have already made up his mind that the Magician was not only to blame, but that they should all take justice into their own hands and jump the guy when they had the chance. It was a wholeheartedly reckless plan, whether it was true that the Magician deserved it or not. Once Ascot made his way over to him and spoke of his plan, Michael decided this was the time to say something. "Okay, no, we have to slow down here, kid." He began, expecting he would stay to hear him out. "Look, I get it, the story pissed you off. I would be lying if I said it didn't piss me off a little bit too. But we don't know what we're dealing with here. You and me, we can make putty and energy ropes, but what can this guy do? He could flick his wrist and turn us into bloodstains on the wall." He then stood in closer, whispering to him. "Do you really want to risk all our lives for a cause we aren't even sure of? Because we do not know what's going on here for sure. You know that, right?" Naturally, he didn't want Ellard to hear that half of everybody was doubting his story. Michael still wasn't sure what to think, but it certainly would help if the kid thought everybody was against him. The real problem was making sure that Ascot didn't commit to a reckless plan. Deep down, Michael was tempted to play cop here himself, but he knew that was a bad idea given the lack of basic understanding of what was going on.

@Letter Bee @Scarescrow @jdh97 @Mammon

[Scarescrow]

“Michael, Michael, Michael.” Oedipus constantly shakes his head to both sides, as he seems to determine what to say next. But his face muscle began to stretch out, creating a smirk as he glared the person that is holding the golden rope. Moving his head to a side to see the police in the better position, Oedipus constantly shaking his head up and down, approving something. “ I could never think you will give up everything for me.” Oedipus moves his head down to see the silvery thread that had been entangled him for sometimes before raising his head up to look straight at the police. What used to be the pupils had now been replaced by two orbs of flying fire that are constantly growing, the beast release an unpleasant laughter. It’s dark beak opened, stretch toward both sides, and revealing hundreds of jagged teeth. But the laughter did not maintain for long as the monster looked down at the cop, with its beak forming something similar to a smile. And from its mouth, the voice that is filled with demise. “I know you could never stop thinking about me.” And then, Oedipus begins to sing one of the only songs that the previous owner remembered, with his cold and devious voice.

Fly me to the moon
And let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, darling, kiss me...

---

In the back of his mind, Oedipus was laughing at this scene. If Father was here, he would truly be sorry for doing such thing. Using his power, Oedipus teleported his father corpse. His father had undergone a good decaying process he would say, with nothing more than bones and blacken flesh among some facial area. Unlike the pig and chicken whom he had slayed in his previous accident encountered, the Father's body meant the most to him. Letting his head to rest on his Father's Skull, Oedipus murmured with his cold voice. “It was all on you, old man. If it was not due to you that broke me, then we will never be separated.” Tears starting to the self-crowned demon king, forming a small line of water on both side of his face. And then, Oedipus kissed the skull, before smashing it with his foot. Picking up the largest pieces he could find, Oedipus murmured. “Now, we will be together and forever we will.” The king returned to his throne, allowing his head to rest on his fist. There were no more signs of his sadness or tears remained on his face. Only a bloody smile as he waits for his upcoming challenge. Maybe such challenges will come from real life or this bloody imaginary world. Or it will never come. But Oedipus is still waiting, with the Father on his side. Outside, the bird is still singing its lovely song.

@Etranger

[Ceta de Cloyes]

At some point Koda had zoned out, focusing on a growing babble in the back of his mind. He was nearly convinced he was a telepath, there was just no other way to explain the mental sense of voices surrounding every living thing he passed without defining it as outright insanity- which is why he labeled himself nearly convinced, insanity was still on the table after all. This new sound though, it didn’t sound like the others, and he seemed to be the only one to hear it, so he knew it must be his powers picking up on it, but it was so… clear. Not that that was any help, but when listening to the others’ minds it was like listening to a foreign language being whispered just behind his ear, this one was… not talking, but communicating to him. He swore he could see it, red triangles in the edges of his vision; no matter how quickly or slowly he turned to look they remained just out of clear sight, and they were so demanding.

But what do they want?

There was a cucumber in his hands, having appeared at some point, but… for all that he had fantasized about an all you can eat buffet, even a simply salad, anything to eat, now that it was here? There was nothing less appetizing in the world. It was weak, wasting, useless, why would such a thing ever be considered food? It had no strengths to contribute, no threat to dominate, no experiences to learn from- it was as good as dust.

He must have stared at the thing for hours- except no one seemed to notice his withdrawal from conversation, so maybe it hadn’t been long at all. As he contemplated the green slab of useless microstructures and detained dew drops his mind warred with his stomach, he couldn’t eat this, but he was so hungry he might just try it.

It didn’t occur to him that he would have considered this perfectly edible food not 24 hours ago, but now his mind was so… triangular. It had few sides and lots of sharp edges, he felt two dimensional and simple, but also just honed enough to rip and slice.

He’d infringed on Stormy’s personal space on auto pilot, not even realizing until he looked up from his empty hands, cucumber discarded at some unknown point, and found her just within grabbing distance.

She was different. Experiences to learn from, power to gain- or the potential anyway, and flesh and bone worthy of becoming… of becoming… part of me.

His hand fell on her shoulder, and he faintly noticed how dark his skin had gotten, taking an almost shiny violet hue reflecting the day’s light, and the previously transparent, thin covering of dark mist hovering around his skin was now opaque and billowing, reaching, almost like tendrils threatening to burrow deep into flesh. Perhaps they would, one mouth was a stupid idea, all of him should be able to eat. He tugged on her shoulder, just enough to tell her he wanted her attention, because he wanted to see her eyes, to look one last time directly into her mind so he could steal her experience as well as her flesh and her gift.

His mouth opened as she faced him, but for all that it looked like a smile, it was the last breath before his lunge. His lips stretched further than they had any right too, his teeth sharp and jagged and so inhuman, and his eyes narrowed into glowing red embers of hunger. ”All of it, give me all of it,” he whispered, half to himself, half to her, and then all semblance of humanity fled as he became a being of semi-solid shadow with a drive only to eat and grow and learn.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he realized something was wrong, that something terrible had happened and he was no longer as he used to be. But, at least he knew what the triangles wanted now, it was almost funny that their telepathic grumbles had so confounded him, they imitated a growling stomach perfectly.

[jdh97]

Stormy

A grin split like a bough, branching and growing as she clutched the bounty in her hands.

“Thanks man, these look pretty, uhm, pretty tasty.” Her eyes lingered perhaps too long on Zino: straight as a razorblade, tight as a tourniquet and dry – there was something about the way of speaking and those mannerisms, too serious, that stirred memories in their oubliettes, rattling the bars and riling up thoughts Stormy would rather not be having. Then it was broken, and things were smoothed over again.

She gave a mock salute Michael, almost dropping some of the food, “Sure thing Mikey, jus’ minding my manners.”

Turning back to Koda, she handed some food, or tried, but he didn’t seem very interested, in that or anything, so she shrugged – Perhaps later then, my dude – and began chewing on a pale green leaf, tinged with purple. It was similar to rocket, or perhaps basil, in texture and taste, save for the odd anise and… something else running throughout; pretty trippy.

Everything still seemed quite dream-like, all haze and hues, just a touch from being real. The monolith, black as jet and sin, only added to the fantasticality of it all.

The story unfolded, and Stormy shuddered, seeming to shrink further inside her cardigan, her mask pulling her down. She was powerless. A brazen tirade left worry settling in Stormy’s gut like pebbles in a lake. She smiled when Koda at least held some food; he looked as though he needed something.

If one was paying attention, they might have noticed Stormy visibly deflate, the crushing tension somewhat lessened when the others didn’t seem to share in the Brazen boy’s fervour.

“Bee Bee hun, I agree with Mikey here,” She walked closer to them, speaking softly, kind, not pitying, “And besides, it’s in the past now, like, attacking him ain’t only dangerous, but it won’t change much, y’know? And it’s real mean, to boot.” Her mouth opened to say more, to try and clarify her addled spew, but it was then she felt a tug on her shoulder.

“Hey hun-” the sentence was cleaved; the diaphanous and congealing swathe of shadows only vaguely resembled Koda. And then it didn’t. Mortality clarified in an instant – this was a dream no longer.

Pain devoured all. Explosion of agony from an arm. White needles blinded her. Black spots crept in. For as real as it all was, it slipped away: overwhelming.

[Viatos]

Something was wrong, but that wasn't what was eating at Tristan Traeger.

Something was wrong, and it was the same wrong thing, the same twisting-out-of-true that had begun at least since the first time she had come to him, her eyes shining in every color but human. Maybe since the start of his life. Maybe longer. Maybe all of history was just this, these

events which would prove beneficial to your understanding

landmarks on the path to some terrible final fate. Isn't that what she'd told them? The fate of two worlds, hers and theirs, only...something in him rebelled against the association. Is this really her world? Or is that just...what she wants to make it? Those thoughts were too threatening, though, to harbor long. Thoughts of conquest and making. Forging. Blades. They were all changing. An eye found Tabitha, and then another, and another. Even if we can go home... Tristan shuddered. If his constants were to permutate...

The truth is invariable.

He'd fought it. He'd died...

...he was here, like any of the rest. The rest...

The newcomer - Zino - was acclimating well. Too well, maybe. Too calm. Did she send him? What was he for? Their captive was insane, and yet in some ways...some of the things he said were too clear, too aware. He didn't just rave; he was contemplating, paying attention. The homicidal intent was a problem, though. Unreachable? He wondered. The boy with wings - Ascot - oscillating between murder and lust had startled him almost as much and made him thankful for his new body's difficulty communicating emotions.

They're closest. The ones that kept flickering through the places in his brain the Semblance had hijacked, or altered, or created. The ones that were beginning to take on the same cognitive overlay she inspired. Edged in that light, edged like blades.

And what about Tabitha, who's following the path and wearing her mask? Easy to leave her out, isn't it? Easy to let your guard down, and then they burn - no, that's not my thought - and where are you, Tristan T.? What would your overlay look like, if you weren't too afraid to find a mirror? Why'd Ascot choose you to be a killer, exactly? A fourth eye slid to Tabitha. No. No. I have to -

Like something from a nightmare, bound up within secret edges of his own, Koda lunged for Stormy, otherworldly teeth tearing her flesh. The spatter of blood flared in Tristan's eyes, and he almost didn't feel the tendrils sliding loose from his stomach, taking the uneaten fruit he'd been carrying around out of his fingers, carbon knives and silver needles going to work. He didn't feel it when the collection of reductive tools drew back inside him, either, or the strange rushing feeling of the resultant slurry filling cylinders rising out of his back. I guess that's how I eat, a sudden inane flash as shock made the world into an incoherent disaster of chaos. There were teeth gnawing at his mind, a rush of

hunger
curiosity
hunger
help me
hunger

alien thoughts flooding out from Koda, or Koda's Semblance, like a wave - something let loose as the scientist lost himself to the demons he'd invited in. In that moment there wasn't time to understand what had happened, was happening. There was just the question of whether or not Tristan would wait for the train. Eyes like red embers found eyes like golden pools, and something new slid into his mind. Triangles. Red, sharp...

Oh, fuck, he's looking at me. Why -

Because he'd fired, of course, because he'd been halfway to drawing his gun ever since they'd arrived, and when Koda had lunged part of him had known exactly what to do. Balance the equation. Eliminate the threat - But he'd...had he missed? A warning shot? The Koda-thing was turning, and Tristan's subroutines were conscious this time, his awareness extending into the gun, a tiny piece of his architecture. Its ammunition was something bright and sharp and beautiful, a shard of opalescent crystal, sublimated by the trigger-pull into a wave of killing starlight, roiling out into the world and then returning to crystallize again, a perfect circle that left the world a little cleaner with every iteration. All he had to do was -

Koda's phantom remnant screamed without sound, a sudden psychic burst that hammered away his intentions, shattered his consciousness, sending hot spikes of agony through his head. Circuits sparked and went dark, and Tristan's knees hit the ground. His eyes guttered out. Empty. The phantom flowed around Stormy, its mouth stretched open, its whole body - tendrils of mist, unnaturally stretching extremities - reached for him, and -

The cylinders in Tristan's back slammed home, pumping a flood of alien material through his spinal column and into his veins, the impact and the mind-searing rush driving his upper body down, just beneath the phantom's pounce.

All five of Tristan's eyes flared white.

The world was crystalline, everything etched in lines of perfect clarity. Structure and design. Had he imagined disaster, earlier, in his shock? But there could be no disaster. Everything could be correctly arranged, even - the phantom was turning, twisting around itself, an amorphous flow of ripping death, a thing of chaos, disordered, Unfettered - Tristan was faster, adrenaline and catalytic oils rushing through him and coupling with his clean, clear high, and he was well out of the way for the second pounce, rolling and rising to one knee. His gun stretched out towards Koda's phantom. Chrome and ivory, a basket hilt of silver filigree. Beautiful. The perfect tool to contrast that filthy thing's -

Koda.

Tristan hesitated. So did the phantom. Did it perceive the threat? Was it contemplating its angle of attack? Or...

...its thoughts were still 'audible,' a constant hissing babble of desires Tristan profoundly wished were left incomprehensible by the projection. He hadn't known the other man very well, but there wasn't anything coming from the phantom that suggested humanity, empathy, recognition, the capacity to stop. But if he fired...I'll be a killer. This was a person. Like me. Oh, god, like me, like Tabitha... What had happened on their journey? What had Koda seen or heard, what had changed him, destroyed him? Was it

that scream

something from his Semblance? In the Ghost Girl's words? Breathed in from the air of this place, the soil, some pre-existing condition, there had been a person and now there was a monster, there had been a man and now there were only

red triangles
blades

eyes like embers and jagged teeth. Blackest mystery. He was the scientist. The one with the smart questions. He kept asking about the details. He wanted, oh god, to understand what was going to happen to us. Looking for the truth...

Eventually, you will come to realize the truth.

The two beings regarded each other, dark against the bright of the day and the green of the grass, there in the shadow of the tower. A faint wind stirred the world, but not the man of iron and not the beast of shadow. Red eyes watching white. Tristan let one eye, just one, look to find his friend, and the phantom leapt, and starlight swelled, and whatever Koda had realized and become, whatever he might yet have been, was burned to ash and carbon on the evening breeze.

[Mammon]

Zino Bertran nodded along with Anni. For a teenager, she was astonishingly perceptive. He felt like he was simultaneously trusting and distrusting every person involved in this; the air of distrust that everyone had for the Magician, for the Ghost Girl, for their situation had permeated his entire thought process. Every theory was as valid as the next when you are placed into totally unknown circumstances.

He listened to the others’ talk about Ascot’s plan. It seemed they were all in general consensus: it was a bad idea to fight the Magician, no matter how misled or betrayed or horrified they felt by his actions. Bertran folded his arms and tilted his head in contemplation. ‘Ascot seems desperate for some sort of validation—he tries so hard to prove himself… But why?’ He glanced down at Anni and softly smiled. ‘Interesting...

As quickly as the moment of comfort had come, it was replaced with horror. A flurry of movement caught the periphery of his vision. One of them—Zino wasn’t sure of his name—had transformed. A hungry maw lurched forward and embedded itself into the older woman. Blood and darkness scarred his memory. Abjection boiled in his stomach, and terror burned hot behind his ears and down his neck. Adrenaline froze him in place—eyes wide, primal, and transfixed on violence.

“Stormy!”

Anni called out, her voice breaking with panic. Her eyes were impossibly round, haunted, already full of tears and unbridled fear. They searched the scene as if begging it to only be a nightmare, praying that she would just wake up. The hair on the back of Zino’s neck stood on end; it was enough to move him to action. He wrapped his left arm around the girl’s head, pulling her closer and covering her eyes with his hand. “Don’t look, Anni…” With the other, he reached for his gun—but it was too late. Someone had already fired. ‘Did he miss? Did it pass through him?’ Zino’s heart raced, watching Tristan dodge the darkness that had once been man. There was a pause, his breath hitched, his hand lingered on the butt of his gun—ready to arm himself. Light and sound washed the scene away, and when it returned, the creature was little more than ash on the wind.

Vomit rose in his throat. ‘At least it had been quick… At least it was a swift—’ Soot drifted to the ground like snow. He felt sick. Zino pulled away his hand from Anni’s face. He noted distantly how it trembled. “It’s over. It’s over.” He gave the girl a small and gentle shake.

Shock numbed him, but training had prepared him for moments like this. He ran over to the woman’s side. The area around her smelled thick with blood and charcoal. “Are you okay?” He knew the question was stupid; it was easy enough to see she was far from well. Zino knelt down beside her. “I'll help you. You're going to be fine.” He lied through clenched teeth and a smile. “Can you talk?”

Stormy knew she was dreaming - no, remembering, or… both? The water was warm all around, dappled sunlight danced, and Stormy drifted. The blue octopus with rings of black and gold came into view, as it always did. It bobbed around her head whilst she tried to recall something. The cause of the nagging feeling tugging at the hidden chords of her subconscious mind. Something was wrong.

The sea darkened. Grey and crimsons replaced the blue and golds. The octopus latched onto her arm and bit, teeth sharp as the red triangles that now covered its body. She screamed, letting water in, stinging her throat and flooding her lungs, plunging train spikes in and out of her chest like sewing needles.

At the surface of the water, she could see him. A silhouette, blurred by water.

She gasped awake. Her arm throbbed. Eyes flitted about. They fixed upon Zino.

“Muh?”

Zino Bertran pulled off his jacket and removed the contents of his pockets: the mask, a gun, and a security I.D. He placed them gently on the ground before addressing the victim. “I'm going to stop the bleeding.” Blood splatter had painted the ground like Jackson Pollock. Life bubbled up from her shoulder and soaked through her cardigan. ‘What kind of person would do this…?’ The agent didn't wait for her to respond; he lifted her enough to wrap the jacket around her shoulder, tied it tightly, and then applied pressure.

Zino's gaze drifted to the discarded food on the dirt path. “Maybe he wasn't a vegetarian…” the man whispered to himself. He could not sincerely find humor in the situation, but the absurdity and horror of watching a man turn into an umbral wraith and try to devour someone only to be vaporized was too abjectly terrifying to confront right now.

Gloved hands pressed firmly against the wound. He glanced at Tristan, then stared intently down at her shoulder. ‘He just…--’ Zino swallowed hard. The android had certainly made his list of people not to cross. He thought about Three and her yo-yo, about Anni and her friend, about the pale-faced woman bleeding out. Images of them being burned alive, or torn apart by shadowy fangs, or atomized in flash of light filled his mind. His brow furrowed.

“Can you talk? What was your name, again?”

“W-what…” Stormy wetted her lips, “I can, yeah. I’m Stormy. Stormy Jeans. You’re what’s-his-face, right?” She chuckled, but the smile quickly became a grimace as she groaned, clutching the side of her head, and looking down with wide eyes at her arm. She was shivering, she realised. “What happened?”

Zino nodded. “Zino Bertran.” In spite of all the chaos, he could not help feeling relieved. “You're bleeding pretty badly. The man you were with…” Mr. Bertran shuddered. “He attacked you. ...He's dead now, Miss Jeans.” The agent glanced up at Tristan, then back to the woman. He was unsure how else to describe it.

“Huh… so that bit was real?” She pursed her lips to a thin line, let out and explosive sigh that made her whole body hurt. “Bummer.” She felt so cold.

“Bummer…?” He repeated, cocking his head to the side, looking at her as if she had aphasia. Her lackadaisical attitude had started to get under his skin. “Your life was at risk. Our lives. You understand that, right?” He was trying not to raise his voice, but he could not help himself. Desperation and shock creeped into his tone, making it harsh and fast. He tightened his grip on her shoulder. “...Are you lucid?” 'Perhaps the blood loss is affecting her mental faculties…’ With his other arm, he lifted her legs and put them in his lap. “The elevation will keep as much blood in your torso as possible,” he explained. Zino glanced around the group, scanning their shocked faces. 'There has to be some power or… or something these people can do.’

In collaboration with @jdh97 and @TaroAndSelia

[Redward]

Looks like the show's over.

Dust drifted on the wind, signaling the end. Koda, or whatever he had become, was dead. Stormy was wounded and being tended to. Everyone seemed to be in motion, except herself and Tristan. She let her eyes roam freely, along with her thoughts. There was something oddly calming about the way things ended. Before, her stomach was tight and small dreads had wrapped a thorny vice around her heart. Now she was smiling, despite the tension that still lingered.

She could feel the grass through the mesh on her feet, lightly brushing against her with each step. I didn't really know, Koda. The thought of him seeking her help on the tracks passed through her mind, but he ain't seem like that kinda guy. A part of her was fully convinced that it didn't matter, already hashing out that it had something to do with his Semblance. Another part was sad that it had to end like it did; that Stormy had to suffer the thing's bite. That Tristan had to pull the trigger. She had paid attention to that part; more closely than some of the others. Now that I know what it does, I'm gonna have to be real careful. Once more, as she had before, Tabitha let her fingers touch on the strange gun's grip; before she let herself follow her instinct.

Ellard started taking steps behind her, intending to follow along. "Go hang around the others," she didn't turn, but pointed toward them. "I got somethin' I need to talk about. Alone." She had expected resistance, for some reason; or at the very least a protest. Instead, she heard a few soft steps away from her. "Thanks, kid. I appreciate it." The boy stopped walking, at that.

"Be careful," there was a slight tremble in his voice, "I don't know what's going on, but he's..." She didn't want to hear whatever was coming next. Dangerous? A laugh came at that, quiet but genuine. Ellard continued walking, a heavy silence settling in at her back; despite the commotion.

Everyone here's dangerous, probably. I ain't know half of 'em. I ain't wanna know the rest, a small huff escaped her and Tabitha lingered still on the precipice of action. I ain't got nothin' to offer Stormy. I'll talk to her after she's better. Wonder if dude's bite was poisonous? Fuck. A giggle bubbled up from her depths, this time not one she fought back. It felt normal, now, almost, to be laughing like she did. Since they had arrived in Irriss laughter had haunted her, small giggles from her mouth; though they felt like they came from somewhere far away. She'll be fine. Deal with what ya know ya need to.

Her progress was purposefully slow. She thought she'd seen an eye flick in her direction, during the conflict, and was at least partially sure that he would be aware of her approach. Voices reached her, but were barely noted. They had their problem to deal with. It ain't matter, they'll do fine. Keep on walkin'. She had her own ideas about the situation, about the why of it. Sometimes injuries ain't on the surface. Even if Tabitha saw the Koda-thing's execution as necessary, there were others who would struggle with it. Ain't that a little cold, though? To think of the guy like he was always that thing? She laid an arm over her stomach, taking the final few steps to approach Tristan's side, the other lifted; giving a half-wave.

I guess it ain't matter. We failed. Tabitha stopped beside him, a small smile on her face. "Good shot, Tristan." It probably wasn't the best thing to say, but it was what she had settled on. "Ya saved some asses, for sure. Thanks." Her smile widened, Tabitha looking over his form in full. The lifted hand trailed to the tendrils of her hat, toying with them as she spoke. "I'm startin' to think that what we just saw, what ya just had to put an end to, is the reality around here." Whatever the Koda-thing was, laying eyes on it had set her heart in an odd place; pity and spite for what he had become, an instinct she was unsure of. Before it had been ambivalence. Koda was one of them, that was true; but them was hardly a solid concept for Tabitha.

The group was connecting, in some ways. She could see that much. Still, her place was outside those small circles. Ain't never really been a fan of cliques, anyway. She almost laughed at herself, with that thought. A woman was bleeding on the grass, bitten by some shadowy nightmare; people attending her with frantic care. Yet, here she was attempting to reach out. To be certain that a bond from Lightbridge, tenuous as it felt, was still there. Am I scared? That thought drove her forward, her hand leaving the massive hat and coming to rest on Tristan's shoulder.

She took her eyes from molten gold and gunmetal to look skyward. The shadow of Magician's tower seemed to be stretching close to them. With another small bout of walking, they would be at his gate. The sun was threatening to set, leaving them to their first night in Irriss. Don't ignore their suffering. A command to herself, from herself. Away from the pastel hues of coming struggles and back to the foreign world stained by common confrontation. They settled on Stormy, being aided by Zino. Even the new guy's leaping into action. Ellard was standing behind them, pale but watching.

"Fuck," she said, letting her hand drop from Tristan's shoulder and turning to face him fully, "I ain't any good at this. Ya probably already know that, so I'm just gonna say what's on my mind." She didn't wait before launching into it. Tabitha rarely did. "I don't like this shit. I know ya ain't happy with what just happened, either. But let me be straight; I'm glad ya shot him. He was gonna kill Stormy...and once ya had his attention, we both know what it was after next." Her free hand went under her hat, digging around inside the rim of it. She produced something, two somethings she had kept hidden for a while.

Quickly, she lit a cigarette; putting the pack and lighter away with fluid motions. Green locks were brushed aside, her eyes still on the myriad spread of Tristan's own. She took a drag and exhaled, to the side. "I ain't want ya to..." articulating the exact thought was difficult, so she latched onto something else, "Look, ya said before that ya afraid of 'fallin' out of step'...I've been thinkin' about that, really hard the last little while." She struggled, biting her lower lip and dragging a foot back and forth; taking a slow drag from the cigarette. "I'm afraid of havin' the only person here," her eyes dropped, then drifted back up staring hard into him, "that I know...that I really care about endin' up tearin' himself to pieces."

Tabitha's eyes softened, the slight edge in them retreating. Something in her had changed course. Thoughts of the C-Route filled her mind, for a moment. There was so much fuckin' blood. Blood on the tracks, blood on the platform. That same part that pushed her there knew why she needed to see this. Slowly, it clicked for her entirety. "I'm scared of losin' you, man. We made a promise to go back, together." It was a simple statement, uttered with an honesty that made Tabitha feel completely exposed. "I ain't forget what happened. I ain't gonna forget this. Ya ain't, either, I bet. So, I'm takin' ya up on that offer from earlier. Let's talk. I told ya what's on my mind. Ya turn."

She had said her small piece. Letting the gaps be simply what they were. Tristan, or anyone who happened to overhear, could make of what she said what they would. Slowly, she took another long drag and lowered herself to put out the cigarette. Rising, she breathed out the last of it.

I'd kill for a drink, right about now.

Ellard, lingering behind them, watched Zino's effort to stanch Stormy's bleeding. He was quiet, his expression one of grim concern. He didn't speak loudly, so Tabitha couldn't hear him; but the others certainly would.

"Do you think the Magician did this to him? Your friend."

[Letter Bee]

Ascot's shoulders slumped as he registered the truth of Michael's words; or at least, that's how it looked to the others in the group. He would then whisper back to the Officer: "Yeah, to be honest, I have my own suspicions myself; either Ellard is actually the Magician in disguise and this is just one big test, or he is an agent of some other power, or something else entirely. Or he could be telling the truth; whatever the case, I am not entirely blind." Then, a scream, and Ascot would turn towards the direction of Stormy, only to be faced with a horrifying sight.

Koda had lost control of the Semblance; and had bit off Stormy's arm. But before Ascot can do so much as rage, Tristan had already killed their former friend, while Zino was moving to where Stormy was, calling for someone who can heal her. Ascot delved inside his own mind, and knew he had the power to do so. Barely.

Flying swiftly to Stormy and Zino's side, eyes wide in fear, his mind switching to 'serious business mode', he would say: "Zino! Give me Stormy's arm; I can reattach it!"

Two orbs of silvery-white liquid had already formed in front of Ascot; one of them went towards the severed arm, the other to Stormy's stump.These two orbs would cover the bloody portions of the limb and main body, and glow, starting the process of healing, of replenishing blood, of stabilizing and pain-killing. Ascot would then turn to Zino if the latter had given him the arm, and say, "You can stop pressing against the wound now; I have a tiny window of opportunity with which to reattach the arm."

All things not related to the crisis at hand had left Ascot's mind as he put together the arm and the shoulder it was severed from, his 'ambrosia' linking them both together as it glowed even brighter, slowly rebuilding blood and skin and bone cells while Ascot concentrated on his new...Magic?

As the injuries finally sealed themselves, Ascot heard Ellard saying...something. Something that magnified his suspicions. Frowning sadly, the boy would say, "Much as I'd like to believe it, no; Koda has always acted strangely since gaining his powers. No, my guess is that he just lost control of the magic he had, and the possibility is open that we might lose control ourselves...but that isn't likely, at least in my case. I don't sense anything except a foriegn feeling of pride inside my head."

Ascot made a decision; detach himself mentally from Ellard. Turning towards the other boy, Ascot would smile faintly and say, "Okay, I've healed the woman. Now it is time to go to the Magician and avenge what has happened to you and your family."

But there was a half-heartedness in Ascot's voice, a half-heartedness that said: 'I no longer believe. It makes me sad, but I no longer believe.'

@Redward@Etranger@Scarescrow@Viatos@jdh97@Mammon@TaroAndSelia

[TaroAndSelia]

Prone on her backside, Kate dared to open her eyes. Whatever that monster had been, it was gone now--burned away by the weapon the metal man wielded. Slowly an understanding of what had happened seeped into the woman’s consciousness. That monster had been a man--both of them had been. And now one had killed the other. Why? What had happened? Kate found her answer easily: they had put on those vile masks.

She grasped her own. Why had she held onto it so long? Had she really thought she might be able to use it at some point? The notion was revolting. Drawing her arm back, Kate threw the wicked object as far from her as she could; even touching it made her feel sick. She turned quickly to find Anni and help her do the same. ”Anni!” she started, but stopped when she saw her friend’s haunted expression.

Anni watched the ash scatter in the wind. The ash that had once been a man. He was gone. Anni didn’t even know when he had left; it may have been while her eyes were covered, when the dark soldier fired his gun. It may have been some time before that, sometime after he put on his mask--his Semblance. Kody wouldn’t have attacked Stormy like that. Or Koda. Whoever he was before he wasn’t.

All her attempts to think, to provide reason and give meaning to what she was seeing, were futile. Tears began to build in Anni’s eyes. Legs shaking, the small girl took a tiny step forward. Then she took another. One tremulous step at a time, she walked to where a person, a friend had existed until only moments ago. Now he was gone.

She couldn’t stand any longer. Anni sunk to her knees, stirring up small puffs of their former comrade's dust from the grass. The flood of emotions swirling around her came rushing out: sorrow, terror, fear, revulsion, anger--a cup so bitter Anni couldn’t imagine trying to stand again. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Against despair’s onslaught, Anni did the only thing she knew she could: she wrapped trembling arms around her stomach, clamped her eyes shut, and prayed. Her lips moved silently, mouthing the words her heart cried. She prayed for Koda and for his safe arrival in the next life; she poured out her feelings of horror, of pain, of being far too small in a place so big; but most of all, Anni pleaded for understanding. She begged to know why this, all of this--the killing, the dark spells, the transformations, their very presence in Irriss--was happening. Why Anni was here. What she was supposed to do here. Streams flowed from her eyes and ragged gasps escaped her lips, but her silent words never slowed.

_{Tag @Etranger}

[Etranger]

Michael had little time to take in Ascot's explanation before everything took a turn for the worse. He noticed Koda's transformation and assault too late to be the one to take him down. He had instinctively raised his pistol in response, but by the time he had aimed his gun, Tristan of all people had already swooped into action. In due time, Koda was nothing more than ash, and everyone looked the worse for it. All Koda had been to Michael was the man that tried to help in his literal last moments on earth, but that didn't make this any easier to see. He was a comrade, even if only briefly, and the fact that one of their number had perished so suddenly and so horribly made Michael sick. He was hardly a stranger to death; people had died during his time on the force, either civilians that ran afoul of someone vicious, or criminals that got clipped in the wrong way. Michael had even shot people himself, though he had yet to kill anybody. But there was something raw and visceral about this that wrenched his gut all the more.

It only got worse as people began to speculate as to why it happened. Ascot brought up the possibility of him being overwhelmed by the magic he had come to possess. The very same magic many of them had already partially indulged in. It instantly brought up fearful visions of himself turning into some kindof monster and attacking the others. Did the ghost girl know this was going to happen? It seemed unlikely that a being of seemingly great cosmic power wouldn't know the dangers of their own magical artifacts. Regardless of the truth, Michael felt a shot of anger wash over him at the mere thought. If she even had an inkling that this would happen, then she was directly responsible for turning Koda into that thing. Michael hoped for her sake that she had a good explanation, or he would make her regret this, no matter what it took.

But now was not the time for thoughts of vengeance and possibilities. They still had a very much living group of people to be concerned about. As much as Michael imagined Stormy was suffering, even though she sounded disturbingly calm about it all, Michael was just as concerned about Tristan. It was not something to be taken lightly, the fact that he had just killed someone. It was something he had to do, but Michael could only imagine how it was cutting him up inside. In the absolute worst case, this could be something he would kill himself over. They would need to handle him with care if they were to carry on together. His friend, that Tabitha girl, was already saying something to him, and Michael hoped that might be enough to assuage whatever was going on in his head right now.

With Stormy being tended to and Tristan occupied with his friend, Michael was initially unsure of what to do with himself here. Then he noticed Anni, wrought with grief. She reminded him that they had an almost unfairly young and vulnerable girl with them, in a world that had just proven to be so much more insane and dangerous than some of the worst places on earth. Of all the people the ghost bitch had to drag into this, why did it have to be her? It shouldn't have been anyone, but least of all someone barely beyond being a child. Michael leaned down beside Anni and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. The least he could do was this much, whether she would be comforted by his words and deeds or not. She did have that Kate woman as a friend, but...Michael had absolutely no confidence in her ability to be useful in a situation like this. Heaven help her if she even thought of making a quip like she had about his "death".

"Let it all out, kid." Michael told her. "Just know that we're here for you. It'll be alright."

But he didn't even believe that himself.

@TaroAndSelia

[Scarescrow]

The image was spectacular. It was brief and sudden. It was quick and lethal. It was filled with excitement as well as fear. Sadly it was not enough for Oedipus. If there was something Oedipus could do. Then he would restrain the beast and unleash it later on. And Oedipus smile when think about such thing, about the image of the horror of these human when they saw their friends betray him. Such happiness could he gain from seeing such things happened? How many will die in pain and grief after being surprised by their comrade? Oedipus takes a deep breath, enjoying the excitement that has painted his inner room. And the room shaken as Oedipus sigh, releasing a strong and cold wind across the places. The image on the wall is quickly washed away as Oedipus shake his head, disappointed in the Beast. A cruel and maniac tone coming out from Oedipus mouth, making those beings under him to bow down. The edict from their beloved God was simple, and the people rejoice for hearing His words.
“You see, that is what separate Me and the Beast. The Beast know no boundary to chase after their stupidity thirst of blood. They knew no arts, making them to be hindered. The only thing they are good at is making ME happy.”

And slowly, Oedipus lifted himself up from the throne to take a few steps. With each steps Oedipus took, thousand being crushed into mud under their God’s weight. And Oedipus care not about those things, the things that he had created.

Outside, Oedipus slowly moves toward Anni, who is crying over the pile of mud and ground. What make the Beast in no longer more on this earth, yet the little girl still weeps for. Oedipus think while continues to walk closer to the little girl. Ah. Yes, for a pile of grass, earth, and tons of bacteria that probably come from her presence. The woman that had helped him previously is now being taken care by the Little Angel. And the Jester is now talking with the Mechanical. Although he could not listen to what others said, what Michael just say really want to make him laugh. And from his inner thought, Oedipus thinks it is going to be real fun to see Mr. Police lose in this game of “stop Annie from crying.”Slowly kneeled down so that his head would be equivalent to Annie, Oedipus began to say his thought with a sincere voice.

“ I always wondered why would man cried for nothingness? Would they certainly think their tears would make the dead to re-live? Or would they hope the dead will know that they are crying for him? I really don't know the reason why.”

Oedipus then turns to look at Annie, whose eyes had become to red due to her continuous crying. The sound of her sobbing can still be heard and all of that only make Oedipus to be happier. But outside, the bird face was filled with sadness and seem to be lost by what just happen. Two red orbs of dancing fire becoming small and turn into a blue and cold color. And a shaken voice from the beast as it look directly into the Annie.

“Then tell me, why do you cry? And what is this boredom and uncomfortable feelings called?”

---

@TaroAndSelia@Etranger

[Redward]

Tracing strange sigils on her forehead hadn't been Beatrx's envisioned goodbye. However, Caretaker Nirvu had insisted. As things were, with the rules she had chosen to abide by; there was little choice in the matter for her. It had been at the task for a long moment, pausing only to inquire about her comfort. She watched her strange friend, her strange mentor, dip its fingers into a small well of black liquid; tried to watch as it gently etched the pattern onto her face.

First had been the markings along her mid-cheek, long and wrapping to rest at the nape of her neck. Next were the circles around her eyes, spirals leading outward. She had opened her mouth, several times, to question the meaning behind it all. That question was met with a small, felt smile. "It is to prepare your body for our parting, for the gift I intend to give you. Now, please remain still, this is a delicate ritual," she hadn't understood that, at all, but did as bid and let herself be as unmoving as stone. "We have spoken at length about your displacement, but today, the day of our parting, I will give you something to tie you tie Irriss," Caretaker Nirvu spoke gently, but its words sent a small wave of dread over Beatrix's heart.

I don't want to be...to be tied here. I want to go home, of course, she knew her situation; that she had some place in a struggle she didn't understand, that home was an impossibility anyway. I want to see my family...but, but this is important. I'm supposed to be a warrior... Her heart was heavy. The sparring session with Srath was still fresh in her mind, the phantom weight of the blade still in her hands as though some part of her yearned for it. I promised, though! That was her steel, that which allowed her to place all of her faith in the Prime Caretaker. So she did. Whatever lines he traced on her, Beatrix knew, was for her benefit.

They were in the hut she had come to call 'home', during her two weeks-and-a-day in Irriss, in the Crystalline Gardnen. Now that it was time for her to depart, things seemed dismal. I'm going to be sent out into the world, b-but why? Beatrix knew that answer well. The other Caretakers had been unhappy with her presence since her arrival. Caretaker Nirvu was the only one kind to me. It changed something in me. The second half of the thought would have sent a shiver through her, had an edict not otherwise compelled her to remain static. The candle she had noticed, before, was now lit; black and white wax trailing down the helix of that bizarre candle.

Beatrix Ashworth watched the flames as the Prime Caretaker continued its work. "Beatrix," it began, drawing her attention, "I intend to give you something called the 'Empty Sphere'. A relic left behind by an age Irriss never experienced." She desperately wanted to ask what that meant, but the Caretaker continued. "These markings are to be certain your body can bond with the Sphere properly. To make it your own. For too long has it been kept in idle, secluded hands. The other Caretakers know not what I intend. Please, keep it hidden."

I don't, either! Her fingers tightened against the slacks she had been given, drawing a handful of the coarse material into her palm. The blade she had practiced with sat on the table before her, without the shimmer it had earlier possessed; the enchantment to dull it gone. She was afraid, truly, but the trust grown between herself and the Caretaker soothed that frantic emotion. It already turned me into a fighter...am I...am I going to be a warrior, next? I-I guess that's up to me... In a way, it was exciting. She had faith that she would return to Lightbridge, eventually, but what she had been told made it clear; that time may come long down the road she would travel.

"Is it going to hurt?" She turned wide eyes to the Caretaker, staring into its faceplate, "I'm not sure wh-what the Empty Sphere is or why you're giving it to me! I don't feel like I'm right for-"

"Be still, Beatrix," the Caretaker gave her a non-existent smile, lightly putting a hand on her arm, "much like the ritual I performed to draw out your warrior's instinct, this is to provide you with a means of defense. The Empty Sphere is an artifact that requires a Mortal host, by itself it can do little but project a tangible, durable field," the Caretaker paused, considering her in the low light. "It seeks out the other Spheres, as well; which is the burden I ask for you to shoulder. If the Nomad Serpent has returned, things will become increasingly dire for Irriss. These Spheres may allow us to repel it."

A...quest, then. I'm being given a quest... Her heart leapt and thundered, settling back slowly into normality. She thought back to Srath, awaiting her outside the Gardens. Her guardian. Then she thought to her outburst; her tears and wailing. Her face flushed and she fought down the urge to lower her head, instead directing her eyes to the sturdy boots given to her. I'm really leaving... That drove a spike through her heart. The hut, the Garden, even the aloof Caretakers had become so deeply familiar over the last two weeks. Her fingers trailed to her Remembrance Leaves, careful not to impede the Prime Caretaker's movements.

Gentle fingers drew her from racing and tangling thoughts; chasing away phantoms of doubt. Caretaker Nirvu was standing before her, its faceplate lowered to observe her. In the dancing light of that lone candle, color seemed to catch vibrantly on her companion's not-face. "It is done. All that remains is for you to accept the Empty Sphere..." it folded its arms, Beatrix feeling its sad smile, "and for your departure." The Prime Caretaker turned and approached a hefty box, occupying a far corner of the room. Slowly, it stooped to open it. A wave beckoned Beatrix forward.

She could still feel the ink on her face as she did, wet and strangely heavy. Over her companion's shoulder, she could see it. Perfectly average, in an odd way. A glass sphere, larger than a marble but barely. It could fit in the palm of my hand. The Caretaker turned to face her, straightening itself. "This is the Empty Sphere. One of five Spheres that exist within Irriss," sensing the question it continued on, "the others correspond to the elements. Fire, Water, Wind and Earth. Each of them responds to the Empty Sphere, lending their power to it. It is..." Beatrix tilted her head, waiting, "a complicated thing. Even we are not sure of its origin." That didn't sound good, at all, but Beatrix kept her trust braced at the forefront, "Though several of us have given guesses. We are, however, familiar with its use."

Beatrix knelt, looking close to the Sphere. It's...strange. I can feel something from it. She couldn't place the feeling, aside from longing. It's r-reaching for me! For something that was supposed to be empty, there was a thick swirling of what she assumed to be smoke within. Beatrix Ashworth found herself incredibly uncomfortable. Something about the Empty Sphere suddenly seeming slightly sinister. "A-And this is for...me?" Her hands moved forward, slowly, hesitating just above the thing's sufrace. "But why? What does it do...where do you want me to go? What d-do you really mean when you say 'accept the Sphere'?"

A broad non-smile came from her companion. "I assure you there is no danger in accepting the Sphere, Beatrix. I have warded you to integrate it. To accept it, however, is to play host to it. It will become a part of your body, something you can control; with time and guidance," her heart sank, but the Caretaker remained stationary; watching her as her jaw dropped, "It will strengthen you. What I did, today, to prepare you for sparring is nothing compared to the boon this Sphere will offer."

She took time considering it. It-It did help me learn to fight. I promised to help. This is scary, I want to go home I want to go home I want to go home!

With those thoughts, the Sphere moved into her skin. Melting into a puddle of chromatic mercury, flowing upward to make contact. Beatrix watched, awed and repulsed as it seeped into her palm. A trailing along her neck made her lift her hand. The Prime Caretaker stopped her, gently. "Watch. You called to it." The markings snaked down her neck and those close to the left arm made their undulations toward where the Sphere had liquefied and slid into her skin. She was too stunned for protesting thoughts. "The markings will form your Sigil, Beatrix Ashworth. Then, after a time, the Sphere will form where it first entered you."

Wh-what's...

Ecstasy jolted through her, Beatrix's face coloring further. Her body tensed and twitched, but the new, faint presence she felt was already familiar. Already conjoined to her.

"The Sphere will seek out the other Elements. Those scattered when Irriss was..." Caretaker Nirvu paused, for a moment, "changed. There is much you must learn, Beatrix. I have instructed Srath to guard and instruct you, until you have come to master your abilities. I am afraid, however, that this is goodbye." It moved forward, lightly lifting her from her crouch; drawing her eyes to it. Slowly, Caretaker Nirvu embraced her. Beatrix's eyes watered. Despite the strangeness, despite the secrets; it had been kind to her, honest with her.

She didn't cry, but she found her voice in their embrace.

"Can I come back, some day?" She was squeezing harder than she meant to, the strange markings having settled on her palm. Already it hurt, as though there were something growing there. "I...I'm going to miss you! I'm going to miss this place!"

Caretaker Nirvu stepped back, almost reluctantly.

"I will welcome you into the Crystalline Gardens, should you return," it folded its arms, giving her the sense of a smile, "but you have a long road to walk, Beatrix Ashworth. A long road to your home. Srath is waiting on you. Do not forget to take the blade." There was a long silence. "Goodbye, Beatrix Ashworth."

"Goodbye, Caretaker Nirvu. Thank you for everything!"

[jdh97]

Stormy

It was as though Stormy was trapped inside the head of another person, shrunk down and forced to watch the events transpire through the two shimmering windows that were eyes. Everything felt uncomfortably numb. She didn’t dare look behind her, towards her subconscious, the dark recess of her mind, where the memory of what had happened was rebuilding itself, begging to be confronted. With abject, muted horror, she watched only ahead, at passing reality, realising how grave the situation was, but unable to force the body to act – no words or movement came when she willed it. She just looked at Zino, and the Brazen boy, with wide, glassy eyes. Their words were harsh and hurt.

The full extent of her injuries had escaped her notice, but as her brain raced to catch up with her heart, it sent far-off tingles down her spine and pulled a hole deep under her stomach.

Unable to move, the pain pulling only a singular whimper as her arm was reattached. She watched it stitch and thread together, like some grotesque loom – she was not sure she would have turned away if she could – it was morbidly fascinating, and equal parts awesome as it was terrifying. She knew it should hurt, but it was as though the pain were inflicted upon another person. All she felt was the twinge of empathy.

Turning slowly, she looked from her arm to Zino. She could see his lips moving, but the words were garbled and deafening.

After a pause, she heard her voice ask, “What?” She felt her lips quiver. The image of Zino became blurred.

Warm water trickled down her cheeks; silently she cried.

Shivers still plagued her body – it wasn’t just that she felt cold; there was something more than that. She drew away from Zino, pulling both arms in close. One arm was now sleeveless, blood smeared and drying all along it. She lay on her back, and focussed on her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In. Out. In. Out.

The grass and ground were springy, the air had a steel edge to it, the smell of iron filled her nostrils, and her mouth tasted of copper. Stormy focussed on these things: reals things.

Still, she cried.

[Viatos]

Tristan watched the others, watched Tabitha approaching. Watched his weapon gleam in his hand. So elegant, he thought. It had been a good moment. Well-ordered. Koda had been dangerous, but newborn, and hunger had driven him to irrationality. When the others turned against him, they would be stronger, and killing them would require a progression of weaponry and armor, each outfitting grander than the last to ensure each death remained clean and perfect. He could burn them away without the mess and ruin of fire, he could -

Tristan watched the others, watched Tabitha approaching. The arm holding the gun dropped, letting it hang at its side. The rush from the silver fruit wasn't fading, but it wasn't intensifying any further. Everything was illuminated, collecting focus along lines and angles, and his thoughts felt precise, swift, powerful, snapping bolts of lightning between neural tissue and intricate circuits.

"When you sit to dine with power, take care to consider what's placed before you," he said. "And put a blade to your throat if you are called to gluttony. Do not desire those delicacies, for they are deceptive..."

More eyes slid to Tabitha. "Proverbs 23. I wonder what he believed," he said, gesturing to the space where he had been. "If it helped. If anything was -"

Whatever Tristan was now didn't seem to have the capacity for vomiting, so he just remained still and silent, keeping a biomechanical vigil. Listening to Tabitha, to the voices he could hear. Watching Anni cry, the cop and the killer face off over her. Stormy crying alone. Once again, the scene took on an arcane resonance. Something Biblical. And what am I, in this tableau? Answers flowed through his mind and he turned from them, turned to his companion.

"What's on my mind...?" I went insane. I can't control this. I need to control everything. I can't control that either. I know we're not really going home again, even if we get back to Lightsbridge. I know what I am now. I'm afraid. I'm so afraid. If you betray me, I'll be destroyed.

If you betray me, I'll destroy you.

He was silent for a moment, and then remembered to shake his head. "A man just died. One of us. The first of us...maybe not the last. Why did he die? Part of me doesn't even care. Her part," he said, the thought automatic, not knowing for sure who he meant. "But that's not all of me." Not yet. Not like Koda. Don't let me be like Koda. "What's on my mind is a man just died, a man who lived looking for answers. We still don't know anything, Tabitha. About anything."

Tristan turned to the tower, pointing with the barrel of the gun of killing light. "According to our architect, there's answers in there. So let's honor the dead," he said, raising his synthetic voice. "Let's go see the Magician of Irriss."

[Mammon]

Zino Bertran exhaled slowly, deliberately. He rolled back to the heels of his feet and put his head in his hands. Now that the moment of danger was gone, the adrenaline left him. He left cold and distant; emotions bubbled in the back of his mind, threatening to break through. Instead, he just felt tired. The agent let the tension he in his shoulders out, unaware he had been carrying it. Zino’s head pounded. ‘Damn, I wish I had a cigarette…’

His brows furrowed. As he sat back, something brushed his hand. Mr. Bertan picked up his gun and slid it into the holster. He lingered longer on the mask and the security I.D. Silently, his mouth formed words but dared not utter them out loud. ‘Bureau of Extramundane Research and Mitigation.’ He picked up the slim card and looked at it.

It was plastic, encased in clear laminate and attached to a retractable string and clip. ‘Department of Homeland Security’ and ‘Central Intelligence Agency’ was printed in large letters across the top followed by ‘B.E.R.M’ in smaller text. Zino rubbed the I.D. between his thumb and forefinger. His own face stared back at him--young and smiling. He hardly looked like the same person. His finger traced over the name: Zino G. Bertran. The agent looked up to the spot where Koda had once stood. 'Could I have done that? Could I have killed him?'

Her lips moved, but he couldn't hear her speak. It was as if all of the sound and saturation had been sucked away. A young woman looked up at him with round, pleading eyes. She was bound to a table with leather straps securing her arms, legs, and head. Something in him softened, and he gave a sincere and reassuring smile. His hand touched her forearm. She smiled back.

Zino nodded, answering his own question.

'Remains remanded for testing.'

He clipped the identification badge to his shirt and tucked the mask away. His lips were drawn in a tight line, looking tired and grim. Bertran could hear her crying echo in his head. "Miss Stormy Jean," he leaned forward again and cupped her cheek, "You're probably going into shock. Listen, I--..." Zino stopped himself, frowning. She looked so vulnerable: tears pooled in her laugh-lines and streaked down her face; she had turned away from him, away from others; blood soaked her clothes and hair. Only her even breath gave him some hope for Stormy.

Her body had showed no signs of change. It had taken them weeks to find her remains, but they were pristine--warm, even. He looked over the notes from her autopsy, but there was no clear cause of death. They had succeeded, but at the cost of her life. Perhaps the strain of the journey was too great on her body, perhaps her unguided mind had simply snapped under whatever lay on the other side. He put his head on his desk and wept. Eventually, one of them would come back alive.

Mr. Bertran lifted Stormy off the ground. Her head rested against his shoulder, and his arms supported her under her back and knees. His face hardened as he turned to the rest of the group. Silvery eyes flicked over them, one by one. "Lives are at stake. Our lives, their lives... We can't waste any more time." He adjusted the woman in his arms but could not bring himself to ask for help. "We have to get to the Magician."

[Redward]

Footfalls echoed lightly from high arches and close walls. The Magician's keep was, as always, extremely quiet. Those footfalls being the only noise punctuating a short trek down a particularly long hallway. The master's hallway. It had never been given a true title, but this particular moniker seemed to arise from time to time. Different from the others only in the most basic sense, this hallway's import was its usual traversal. There were no grand secrets hidden in the shadows that danced along along it; though one could argue that the door at the end of that hallway held more than one or two, at least once a proper knock had been given.

As usual, there was a chair at the midway point. It had never been moved, nor would it be. Often, Elegance had questioned its purpose. More than once aloud. Only once had the Magician's keeper been given a proper response. She hadn't understood, at the time. Now it brought a smile to her face, considering the bizarre simplicity of it, as she stepped lightly around it. There was much that seemed simple, once the answer was given. Truly, though, I had heard that answer before. Was it Rain or Constance that had it right? In a way, that didn't matter. Elegance knew that. It was her own thoughts on the subject that should be at the forefront.

Either way, she was right. It's simply there, a test fo- she stopped before one of the few mirrors in the keep, put there at her request, lifting her sparkling lantern to a countenance wracked with long hours, Oh my. That won't do. Lightly, her fingers left the lantern to hover at her side. All at once her face and figure shifted, Elegance adopting a more personally pleasing form. Just like that, it goes away! Dark circles beneath her eyes now spoke of careful application, loose locks shortened and stylized, mouth widened and lips adjusted. She stared for a long moment, bringing a finger to her eyes to test the tenacity of quick changes.

"Ow." Her new frown was positively provocative, the tears in her eyes lending a certain vulnerability to the expression. "Perfect!" Immediately Elegance covered her mouth. Her echo, however, seemed to spread joy through the master's hallway. Neutrality worked its way onto the 'naturally' morose beauty she had claimed. A curse escaped her, silently; turning to take the lantern back in her grip with a sigh. She left her reflection behind, satisfied, still careful to walk lightly.

After all, the master is not one pleased to be woken prematurely, both hands now were wrapped around the lantern, holding it aloft and ahead, Elegance's countenance cast fully in the blue it unevenly shed, Though is anyone in this castle really happy about being awake at this odd hour? I cannot imagine so. However, they had guests to attend. Instructions to follow. Jobs to perform. Elegance had always been the best at this. Which is why she had been chosen. Not by the Magician, who was often too busy to look after himself; but by the shadowy one she had molded several of her appearances after. Elegance had taken each order with graceful patience, making sure to be eloquent when protest was required. As requested.

Slowly the hallway narrowed, the walls framing the door precisely and the ceiling dipping low. Thankfully the door was larger than Elegance by half. Really, it's bigger than most of us. There were perhaps two she could think of, on the keep's staff, that would have trouble approaching the door alone. Still, so far as she was aware, she was the only one who made this trip regularly. Elegance placed the lantern at her feet and knocked on the door. Sixteen knocks, two claps, a stomp and a satisfied sigh to herself. Silence followed. She shifted back and forth, listening, counting down the seconds. Finally, a grunt and the sound of latches thrown. Then, sliding.

The door didn't open, but she felt eyes on her from the other side. "Master?" It was never really a question. Elegance had come to understand, quickly, how things worked in Magician's keep. Silence, expected, followed the question. An invitation to continue. "Your guests are nearly here," she folded her hands, looking slightly upward, "it's time for you to greet them." Elegance gave her best smile to the door. A groan, disbelief and petulant reluctance. Fourteen, fifteen...

He appeared before her with a decompression that made her lantern tilt and sputter. Madness twitched somewhere deep within her, the reason she held her hands as she did. Their grip tightened, not so much as to be obvious; or so she liked to think. Then it subsided. He wore a broad rimmed hat, pointed and much too large to be reasonable. Under that, Elegeance knew, was a face still lined with sleep and unkempt stubble; tired and downcast, his lone eye would be on her feet. The other covered with his most regal patch. "Purple and gold always are a nice combination, but don't you think it would be better to wear your normal one?" He tilted his head, intent on proving her wrong; though Elegance had predicted this. She smiled broadly, giving him her most enthusiastic gesture of approval; a thumbs up.

Indeed, he had worn his normal eye-patch. Black leather and otherwise unremarkable. His normal hat, as well. His coat was different, though, one she had never seen before. It was quite remarkable. Envy wrapped arms around Elegance's throat. Despair struck her in the stomach. He won, after all. Sixteen seconds, my point. Eye-patch, my point. That jacket... A snap brought her eyes to gloved fingers and somewhat to Magician. There was a soft smile on a scruffy face, the lantern in his other hand. "Game over. Magician wins. Good morning, Elegance." He turned and walked away, leaving her trailing behind him.

It was in the fashion of many of his jackets. Tight sleeves growing wide at the wrists, tails that tapered and twisted. However, the material it was made of, the colors were so unlike what she had seen before. Usually he was a man of dour dress, black and deep blues the signature storm-cloud she had come to know. To see him clad in white and the sky's own blue was disconcerting. Not to mention that it makes the hat look out of place. She wouldn't bring that up, though. Instead Elegance did her best to completely ignore that and continue on with her duties.

"Don't worry about it," his voice was relaxed, his pace leisurely, allowing time for his keeper to remain in the lantern's light, "I've been up for a while. Tonight's an important one. For me, for you, for her, for everyone. How am I supposed to sleep with something like this going on?" That was a fair point. One Elegance wouldn't contest, instead nodding along. Magician had been invested in many things over the last two weeks, one of which had proven to be a problem beyond his capacity. "I've figured out a couple of things, that's for sure. Notice that they're arriving with one of their members missing?" Of course she had. Elegance had been watching closely.

"Yes, Koda Yuhashira succumbed to the weight of his Semblance," she brought a finger to her lips, speaking around it, "Do you think offering them condolences would be appropriate?" Magician shook his head, passing the lantern back to her. They both slid around the chair, in silence, before Elegance continued. "You're probably right." She shifted the moment through several different lenses, finally settling on what she thought would be the right light. "It makes sense. That course of action. However, it also brings her motivations into question." She was adept at viewing the strings, but following them to their conclusion was often fruitless; drenched as each possibility was in possibility.

"This wasn't part of her plan," Magician stated that confidently, stretching with the hallway behind him, "Otherwise I would've been instructed to greet fewer visitors." She could feel his frown deepen as he began walking down the stairs. "Though, technically, the number is the same." Elegance hurried to catch up, but stayed a step behind her master, curiosity on her face. A glance in her direction, then ahead, torches kicking to life above and below; their lights shifting from blue to green to red and stalling there. It was a rosy color, revealing a long table and the various faces gathered at it. Greetings rang out in various tones, some of her counterparts waving or rising to bow at their master's entrance.

I suppose he's right. There's only so far one should be willing to trust, however. The others, that distracting mob of uniformed maids and butlers, seemed overexcited. Uncomposed. She allowed herself an internal leer at them. It was unbecoming of those who served her master's needs to act without restraint. I'll discipline them later. For now, I have to attend to my own assignment. She had made note, already, of which of them had cheered loudest.

"Ah, yes, the boy that's tagging along. Didn't you say you were expecting something of the sort?" She kept her own tones light, letting her distaste for the others show with a glare in their direction. Quickly they returned to their meals, only a few daring to make a face or grumble while she was watching. "It should have been dealt with on the road." Elegance let her lantern go, over the rail. It did not shatter, or even touch the ground. Instead it hovered unevenly, drifting aimlessly until sputtering out of existence. "The Mortals I can understand, but inviting an unknown entity into this keep is pressing your luck."

He stepped off the stairs and adjusted his hat, scratching lazily beneath his ears afterward. "Yeah, that's true. I've been thinking about it. It could turn out poorly. Or," he pointed to Elegance without looking, "it could be exactly what I need, at a time like this." When he resumed walking, she was already beside him and gaining speed. "Think about it. If this tag-along is what I think he is, half of my problem will be solved." Elegance nodded, her back now to him. She was thinking about it, but she didn't get it. Magician continued, Elegance lowering her head slightly. "Really, though, it's going to be difficult." A sigh escaped him. "Even if the Mortals are cooperative and straightforward, it's not like anyone is going to want to see what happens."

"Why is that, master?" Elegance was curious, standing straight-backed by the entrance to the keep. Her hand was already on the door, prying it open for him to pass through. Her face was, again, telling. Magician stopped to consider her, placing his own hand atop hers, stopping the door from opening all the way.

"Because," his eye bored into her, vibrant in its oddity, catching the light and shifting between colors she couldn't quite recognize, "they've killed a man dressed as a beast. Scattered him to the wind. They're learning, but they haven't had time to adjust. What I'm going to suggest will almost undoubtedly irritate them." Slowly his fingers drifted away, leaving Elegance fighting her first impulse. "If I'm going to teach them anything, the first test will be the most important. I need you to be on guard, ok?" She opened the door, fully. A lantern appearing in her free hand. "Let's go."

Elegance followed her master into the waiting night and down the keep's steps. Other small points of light existed around the unmarked grounds, lanterns of varying color; put there by her effort. She stayed close to Magician, having taken his words to heart. When she was on guard there was little that escaped her. The blue in her lantern surged, shivering and rising to coat her fingers in cobalt flame. Empty, the vessel served no purpose; dissolving and flickering into nothing. Flexing her digits, the flame danced and intensified, Elegance holding her hand forward to spread light over a wide wedge before them.

...Go on! Say something!

...

Did we stop?

Tabitha Calvicante had been quiet, for a good while. Long had she stared at the strange spire. Even when light had seemingly been bled from Irriss, there was an aura around the place. Not entirely uninviting like it was during the day. The clear sky at it's back, the moon hanging beside it in a half that brought to mind beaches and vodka. Other than a giggle, here and there, at her own absurd thoughts; she found there was nothing to say. So, instead Tabitha had focused on the small problems. Chewing over the same five or six things kept her feet moving and her eyes open.

Her hand on fire? Ya gotta be jokin'. Who the fuck's this?

Now, her mouth was moving. For the first time in what felt like hours. All that came out, first, was a rasp. She cleared her throat and stepped from behind the group to better observe, tilting her head. Indeed, before them were two people. One was a guy in a big hat and some kind of jacket. That, like, some kinda fucked up windbreaker? She couldn't really tell. It was eye-catching in the dark, regardless. The other was a maid with her hand on fire. Something about her was eerily familiar to Tabitha. It's her face. Looks like... A shiver chased the thought away. Nah, the eyes're different. Besides, if she was here we'd know about it. I think? Does that mean he's...?

They stood side by side, in silence. Tabitha wasn't sure she caught it, but for a second the maid's eyes darted to the man; then back to the group. She couldn't see his face very well. Body language didn't reveal much. He seemed relaxed, from what she could tell; hands dangling at his side. It's him, right...? Looking between them she barely noticed that defending herself hadn't crossed her mind. Part of her blamed it immediately on fatigue. Another whispered that she didn't much care about fighting; that Tabitha had accepted this encounter because it had been the only way forward.

Ellard, who she had momentarily forgotten about, was staring hard at the duo. She considered him, for a moment, giving a light nudge. His eyes moved from them to her and back, finally settling at the ground.

The one in the hat shifted, bringing a hand to his mouth; leaning to whisper something to his companion. Her flame sputtered, dimming for a moment. The maid's eyes widened and shock touching lightly on her features. "Oh, of course. My apologies." It was after a rapid whisper, but Tabitha caught that part; before the woman composed herself and her eyes fell on the group. A gloved hand was holding the brim of the hat low, though her periphery might have caught the ghost of a smile. "Welcome to the Magician's domain, Mortals. I'm Elegance, head of staff in the keep."

"We here, for real?" She couldn't help herself. Tabitha wasn't sure she had even spoken the words until she felt eyes on her. A shrug followed, too tired to be given true pause. "I mean, damn. We walked a long way. About time. Ya gonna let us in or what?" Despite how tired she had become, Tabitha smiled. The maid frowned at her, then disregarded her entirely.

"This," she pointed with the hand that wasn't burning blue, "is Magician." He stepped forward, then, offering a slight tilt of his hat in their direction.

"Thanks, Elegance," he sounded normal enough, but that hardly meant anything, "I'll take it from here." Tabitha couldn't help but feel underwhelmed, despite the tension creeping through her. The guy in front of them wasn't making much of an impression. Still, hatred for the one he served was hard to fight down. The maid stepped back, brandishing her hand. "You're finally here. That's good. It's not easy to make it from Lightbridge." He brought a hand up, motioning to the group. "However, a couple of things I need to sort out before you can come in. First, some of you haven't put on your Semblance." He sighed, after saying that.

"The way I see this is simple. You choose to surrender it, or you put it on. Otherwise, I can't help you." Entirely uncertain, Tabitha watched his hand as it lowered. "The second is a matter concerning Silverbrook. That conversation's a little more complicated. I'll let you decide exactly what's going to happen. There are a lot of paths we can take, so take your time. Think of questions, if you need to."

Wait...what? We gettin' this bullshit again? I ain't...fuck, I ain't wanna do this. Y'all up.

[TaroAndSelia]

Anni stumbled wearily along the path.  Night had swallowed them all--one for longer than the remaining.  She tried to shake the thought from her head; she had resolved to be strong about this.  She had to be.  Looking at the others, they were strong.  The dark soldier.  Mr. Bert carrying Stormy.  Ascot at the front.  Tabi in the back.  In the middle, Saffron and Kate--

Anni’s eyes caught those of the waitress.  The small girl’s emotions threatened to spill out once more.

---

Earlier...

At the warm touch of a hand on her shoulder, Anni’s breath caught in her throat.  She couldn’t raise her head to see who it was, but she welcomed the contact; as small as it was, it reminded her she wasn’t alone.

"Let it all out, kid." Michael told her. "Just know that we're here for you. It'll be alright."

So it was Mike.  Anni’s sobs began anew, this time unrestrained by attempts to push words to her lips.  In her head her pleading didn’t stop, but no longer was she able to frame it into coherent words or complete thoughts.  It was a jumble of emotion and imagery, but that was all she could offer anymore--and He knew what it all meant.

“ I always wondered why man cried for nothingness? Would they certainly think their tears would make the dead to re-live? Or would they hope the dead will know that they are crying for him? I really don't know the reason why.”

Another voice.  The scary person’s voice.  The ‘be wild’ voice.

“Then tell me, why do you cry? And what is this boredom and uncomfortable feelings called?”

Anni hadn’t words, nor the ability to express them.  Eyes still closed, Anni shook her bowed head side to side.

Another person came, crouching at her side and draping an arm across her shoulder.  Kate’s voice began to speak.  It, too, was shaky, but it attempted to be soothing.  ”Anni, it’s okay.  You’re okay.  We’ll tell the Magician we can’t do this and have him send us back.”

An alarm blared in Anni’s head.  A horrible cold blossomed in her bosom, sending small shivers out along her body.  Her supplication stopped; but for the first time since arriving in Irriss, Anni understood her answer.

”Look, just take this cursed thing and throw it-” Kate continued, her hand reaching to the Semblance at Anni’s side.

Fire raced through every fiber of Anni’s being.  ”NO!!!” she practically screamed, jumping away from the older girl.

Kate stared, dumbfounded.  Anni was surprised, too, but she lifted herself to stand tall.  Tear stains covered her entire face, and her eyes were still red and swollen; nevertheless, she stood with the majesty of a queen.  ”No,” Anni repeated, her voice calmer but firm.  ”It’s mine.  The mask is mine.  The choice is mine.  I understand it now.  All this time,”  Anni’s voice cracked and a strange smile turned up her lips.  ”All this time, I’ve been asking.  Praying.  Trying to know what I was supposed to do.  From the moment Koda put his on.  And God never said yes.  And He never said no, not in all that time.  And I understand it now.  The choice is mine.  The mask is mine.  It’s mine.”

The young girl tugged her sleeve over her palm and began to wipe the tear stains from her cheeks.  ”Koda is fine now.  It’s better he pass on than stay as that... that.  We’ll move on, too.  The Magician can send you back, but I’m staying.  I’m helping.”

---

Kate turned away, looking first into the darkness, then at Saffron--anywhere but at Anni.  Anni turned away too.  It hurt, seeing her friend avoid her.  As she couldn’t look around, Anni focused her gaze downward.  She would just watch the path.  Check for potholes, or coins someone dropped, or interesting patches of grass.

“Hey, Anni!” Ascot called out, flying over to the girl. He glanced back at Ellard, then again to Anni--hesitating. “Anni,” he hovered beside her. The glow from his wings illuminated her face; she looked shaken, small… But determined. “You agree with me, then? About the masks?” Ascot blurted out, beaming down at her. He was glad to finally have someone with a similar thought. They needed these masks, they were essential.

His smile faltered. ‘Have I ever really looked at her before?’ Ascot’s mind raced back to the time he asked her out, and his face turned a deep shade of red. He stole another glance at Ellard, then landed next to the girl. “...Are… Are you alright?” His wings folded neatly behind him. Ascot tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. He swallowed. “I know I was--...” He let his voice trail off, looking down at whatever she was looking for. “I’m here. Now.”

Anni turned her head just enough to peek at Ascot out the corner of her eye.  She smiled, barely.  He was acting a little more like the boy she knew from Lightbridge High.  Maybe his Semblance just… pushed differently, and that was what made him act weird.  But if he could be normal… If he could, he wouldn’t become like Koda.  Right?

”No.”  It was the simple, honest answer.  ”I’m not alright.  Not at all.”  She cut her voice off there as the emotions surged once again.  Moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes.  But she held it together.

Ambrosia pooled into his cupped hands, warm and sweet. Ascot looked at her with a soft and worried smile. “Here… Did you eat?” He offered the strange substance to her, practically putting it into her hands. “We have to keep our strength up. I know it’s hard, but our survival depends on it.” He could feel his feet lifting from the ground again, and he landed, clearing his throat. “Ah… What’s wrong?”

Where to even start with such a question.  A friend was upset with her, a man had died, she was still traveling with the one who had killed him, Stormy’s arm had to be reattached with magic, it was definitely a school night and she hadn’t finished the geometry homework and Mom would be frantic--nowhere in all her worries was there room for food.  She simply stared through the offered ration.

”This.  This is what’s wrong,”  Anni answered, taking out her mask to look at it once more.  The same narrow eyes; the same monstrous grin.  ”I don’t know, I only…”  Her voice disappeared for a moment.  Then:  ”Before you, um, tried to… to ask me out, earlier…”  Anni’s cheeks blushed slightly as she broached the subject.  She had to pause and suck in a deep breath.  ”Before that, I was trying to ask you.  Do you… believe in God?”

Ascot raised his eyebrows. He looked down at the mask, brows furrowed. “God? I… I don’t understand.” He leaned back, looking straight up at the sky. The stars were different than they were in Lightbridge, than they were in back home. He wondered if they had constellations here. Ascot scanned the night sky as they walked, letting a moment of silence pass between them. It was unusual; for the first time since he got his Semblance, Ascot felt small. He looked over at Anni and studied the way her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, the bright blue of her eyes. Her face was splotched red from crying. “Yes, I believe in God. Don’t you?” He grinned at her.

She simply nodded, her gaze following his out into the stars--and beyond.  ”I pray a lot.  Especially when I need guidance.  And I thought, of course God would guide me this time.  This is a huge decision--bigger than presents or a job or even college.  But… He isn’t going to say.  If He told me to, I would put this on; or, if He said the opposite, I would drop it right here.  But He doesn’t.  He wants me to choose for myself.  And that scares me.”

The girl dared to sneak a peek back at her friend, still walking alongside her coworker.  Anni snapped her eyes quickly back to the heavens.  ”I think… if I could help without it, I wouldn’t put this on.  I want to stay as me.  But I don’t believe being just human will be enough for… for whatever the Ghost Girl needs us to do.  Do I help?  Or do I stay human?” she asked rhetorically.  Only after the words were out did she realize the implication about those already wearing a Semblance--including Ascot.  ”I mean-!  That is, um, you’re still-!” she flustered.

The boy sighed and scratched the back of his head. “It’s not about Ghost Girl, is it? She said we would face even worse if her world wasn’t saved… Isn’t that bigger than us?” Ascot tapped his chin thoughtfully, then looked back up at the night sky. “I don’t know either… It’s not my place to say,” he began slowly, as if chewing the words, “but you know what choice I made.” The wings on his back fluttered briefly, gesturing. He looked back to Anni.

“If God wants you to choose, that must mean he’ll support whatever choice you make, right?” Ascot raised his pointer finger, speaking matter-of-factly. “No matter what you choose, it’s what he wants. Your free will, your agency.” He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, second guessed himself, and gave up. “But that comes at cost… You’ll do what’s best for the group… Won’t you?”

Anni spent some moments thinking that over.  Best for the group?  Her thoughts hadn’t been leaning that way; she had been wrapped up in which choice was right.  Which was best?  If both were right, then--

A flash of blue light lit the path ahead.  Startled out of her thoughts, Anni looked to the source.  A woman and… probably a man, though at a distance it wouldn’t be nice to assume.  Everyone seemed surprised by the sudden appearance of the pair; the two parties stared in a silent face-off for some moments before the woman with blue fire spoke.  This was the Magician.

His appearance was bizarre, yet oddly comforting to the small girl.  She wished she could see his face clearly.  Acting on that desire without realizing, Anni stepped tentatively forward as she listened to him speak.  His words confirmed her own fear:  that if she was to stay and do, she would need to wear the mask.  ’But why?  What is it that we have to do?’ Anni wondered.  She wondered it so much that she began to open her mouth to ask exactly that.

The small girl pulled in a steadying breath.  ”Um… What-?” she began faintly, almost bashfully.

Ascot flew over to the pair, his fists balled up in righteous anger. Without thinking, he let his words spill out, loudly blurting what he thought of the mysterious Magician. “Why are you brainwashing all those people?! How can we trust you?”