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Do you really think we've only been here 300,000 years? Construction doesn't last that long; concrete disintegrates, tar pavement erodes into the Earth from whence it came. Sapiens or Neanderthalensis, countless brother races of a genus leaving only us to carry on the legacy. We cannot disappoint them. We carry them through our blood and our souls, countless lives spanning across time in a way that we can't perceive from our physical coils. But we can't disappoint them.

Hello, hi and hey! I call myself Atom. Some call me Fen. Others call me Ego, blessing the journey of guiding the individual toward the inevitable endgame that is rejoining the flow of life. I try to keep identity suppressed as much as possible, but I'm not a fool; we're here to express our creative selves. I like to think that our love and desire for creativity carries over far beyond the personal and individual. It's a part of the music of Humanity, and I do love the dance we do.

So, creatively, who is this dork trying to kill his own ego? What's he like? Is he decent?

I'd like to think so. I'd like to think I at least know how to write technically. I'm almost always lacking motivation, but I've just been spoiled over the years. I've had a handful of teachers who have really changed the way I look at creativity and working with the individuals who I'm trying to be creative with. My biggest goal is to give that back to the people who I work with. I want to foster an environment, or at least an expectation that if we're writing together, you'll be writing with a professional.
Professional to me means courtesy and friendliness without ambiguity: A guarantee that one can always expect to be treated with the same values that I would want to be treated with.

So what do I do with my free time? A whole lot of struggling with myself for the willpower and discipline to muster the ultimate muse. So far I've managed to get strong inclination toward effort and motion again, but inclination isn't guaranteed. We've really gotta MOVE THOSE MUSCLES! That's what I'm here for! I want to talk to people about ideas and flesh scenarios out with people that I'm interested in, and I do hope to find others with the same strong sense of creativity that I have. I want to push and pull and stretch the dough of creativity, top it with the things we want to devour, and dive into the pizza we've made together with skill and love!

Lets make it happen together!

Most Recent Posts


Kenshiro

Mentions: Emily G. Reed, Kari Wilson, Britney Williams, Luca Olivera | Direct Dialogue: Evelynn Serenelight/@NoriWasHere | Location: Kari's House

The life of a Dummy Buddy was one often fraught with danger and uncertainty. However, moments like this were better. It was like spending a night in heaven, or a fantastical lucid dream in which you could feel every single bit of passion and pleasure. Even the feeling of Shimmer air on its false skin made it writhe with internal ecstasy, so much so that it didn't even mind being the summoner's pet. It was glad to do as Kenshiro asked, and did as it was told. It smiled, kept a heroic face, and waited to be a simple anchor point. A bait and switch that could be necessary at any point in time.
Kenshiro knew he could just swap places with a random chunk of air, but leaving behind an exact copy that gave off heat and energy made for a useful tool, especially in split second timing. For that faith, that he could be useful to a God in Heaven, the Buddy was more than grateful.

He was happy to keep a brave face as others scrambled through the house. He stayed right where Kenshiro wanted him: Near the front door. There was shouting and yelling, something about someone called Britney. He was fascinated listening to their strange language he could almost totally perceive through passive absorption. The one called Luca was so close, the Dummy could smell the not-right blood in their veins. He wondered if that one knew they were dying.
But the thought was cut short. There was a wave of heat, and the dream ended. The Dummy awoke in its own world. Impact. Violence.

Kenshiro watched as the house was engulfed. There was no time to be mournful or reminiscent, as actions spoke so much louder than words in these trying times. Ken felt the need to release himself upon an opponent who would love to kill him just as much as he'd love to kill her. For all of them.

"Emily G. Reed!"


Kenshiro's voice was leveled like a sonic boom, a telekinetic cone amplifying his voice to an incredible decibel. The pockets of air exploding in the sky diverted the hail of incoming crude missile fire, while Ken's body wrapped itself in a tight, purple shimmering energy. It was as if he was completely fading out of existence as the divergent pressure fields surrounding him whipped air into a spherical screen of purple static. This sphere quickly darted about the sky in a seemingly uncontrolled pathway, accelerating and decelerating in rapid fashion until it began to make a very clear b-line for Emily.
Within the field, Kenshiro was holding his breath within the pressureless void as he did his best to control his ever-shifting mass and momentum in a bid to hit Emily G. Reed with so much weight and pressure that she'd never have the chance to move. With a struggle, one arm reached into his vest and removed a small band of copper. He was going to need every second he could get.

"Haste!"
The copper wire fizzled out of existence. Beneath Ken's headband, a symbol formed in Purple that held the spell's energy. Three extra seconds of perception. The difference between life and death. With a moment, he slowed time to a crawl, catching Emily's silhouette in the back of the monstrosity before flicking and sending his entire momentum toward her and the back of the corpse beast. His hand reached backward, pulling an hourglass from a specially made pocket. It was covered in runes, and as soon as it entered Kenshiro's hand it began to glow a ghastly shade of purple.
From the sphere, he shot himself like a bullet from a randomly generated gun barrel, a massive explosion popping off a burst of purple energy in the sky.

It was way too fast.

Unable to readjust with his second, as Emily's movements brought her out of his effective range with such a smoothness that even he was a little impressed. He was sent clear through the flesh beast's thigh, blowing a hole in it the size of a small vehicle before ultimately careening into the ground. Two dozen feet of subterranean tilling later, and the ground collapsed in front of Evelynn Serenelight and Amara King. Ken climbed from the Earth's open wound no worse for wear. His face met Lynn's, and for the first time in a little while, he smiled at her.
"You're not a fighter... Kari wouldn't want you hurt, would she?"
He pointed downward toward the hole he'd made.
"It's safer down there. Anything dangerous will go over your head. Your other option is leaving... I can make it happen. But you need to find Her! Do you understand? Even if she is dead, you need to be alive to honor Her. Lynn Serenelight... Choose!"

Edict: This Whole "Void Heart Thing"

Mentions: A Five Part Narrative Collaboration featuring:@FernStone, @Estylwen and @Punished GN | Direct Dialogue: Henri Han, Phantasia Vorpal, Anya Baksh, and some Special Guests |
Location: Several Locations

Part One: November 2nd, 11:00am
A Random Bus Stop
Henri Han by @FernStone

It was much earlier in the morning than Henri would normally get out - not that he was a late riser, just incredibly lazy when it came to getting out of the house. But he had a mission today! Well, more a meeting… but a very fun one! He hadn’t expected to be able to see Greyson, his big sister’s super cool friend, so soon after the Halloween festival. Yet here he was! Wandering down a street he was pretty sure he’d never been down towards a bus stop he didn’t know the route of. But it was all good! Life was all about new experiences.

He had no idea where they were actually going… Maybe they were going to take a bus out to the mountains (if there were any nearby) and go through a whole training montage like the action films he saw! Probably not, probably not, but it was a fun thought. He made sure to keep a look out as he watched, head darting about as he looked for the familiar, charismatic figure while trying to keep his mind open for any… mental taps.

There wasn’t a great deal of time for Henri to be spacing out as the familiar flashing began to probe his Emotional Field. Edict was plenty used to casting and driving, but the current maneuver was a bit risky. It was essentially a broadcast, something like the ice cream truck rolling down the street, except for magical people. It wasn’t terribly long ranged, and he was expecting to get a reflection back which would let him hone the signal, but if someone else came into it he knew he had to be quick on the draw.

Anyone from Sycamore would recognize him from the signal alone. Caution was necessary.

He had stopped by the local Chinese market the other night to probe out some Mandarin knowledge, and he picked up the character for Brother which he continuously flashed in big pink print until he had the boy somewhere vaguely in his view. Thankfully most of the Blinds in the area were inside, tucked just outside his reach from the lane in the street.
He was driving his favorite part about being home; the old Cadillac painted in black and red and gold like some villain from the disco era come back to haunt the living. They called her “Smokey”, the rolling five-hundred cubic inch V8 motor rumbling beneath her hood in all of its slow, meandering glory.

He had the roof and windows up, and as he got closer to Henri, he cut the signal off. The massive body of the Cadillac coasted to a stop at the curb. The passenger side window rolled down.
”Di-di! Hey! No spacing out, Henri, get in the car!”

”Huh?!” Henri’s head snapped around, thinking for a moment that he’d misheard. Didi… Sometimes Linqian would call him that when she was feeling extra nice, but normally it’d just been Jinhai. He teared up a bit, wiping his eyes and jumping into action. He pulled open the passenger door, got in, and immediately twisted around to grin at Edict.

”This is a fucking sweet car! Wait, don’t tell my sister that I swore- she’s real annoying about it as if I’m still a child. But wow, I didn’t think old cars could be nice. Ours was like... Falling apart. Pretty sure I can drive anything after learning in that! At least I don't have to worry ‘bout getting stranded thanks to Jie’s new boss and the guy who wrecked the old one… did us a favor honestly. If I ever meet him ima thank him for saving me from crashing it myself just to force her to get a new one.” From when he got into the car, Henri just didn’t stop talking. He was practically vibrating in the seat, as if filled with energy that had nowhere to go. ”But this is so fucking cool!”

Edict grinned and leaned in a little toward Henri as they pulled away from the spot.
”Henri? I’m Jie’s new boss, you fuckin’ goober.” he was laughing as his head turned back to face the road.
In a lot of ways, Henri reminded Edict of a younger Kali; their enthusiasm for things they didn’t know about or understand seemed insatiable, and it was well appreciated energy.

He grinned to himself as the car rumbled along.
”Did she tell you that a werewolf crashed her car? Well, from what I hear, she actually hit the werewolf, but also he’s a friend of ours so it’s kind of… Well, you know. Friends break your stuff, they fix it. In Leon’s case, he’s rich. He just grabbed a car from a random lot and made sure it was nice and safe before he gave it to her. And I made sure she got the nice one.”
Edict beamed as he could already feel the sick addiction to praise welling in his chest, knowing this teenager was about to go from looking at him like a cool dude to looking at him like he was a fucking God.

”Wha- you? You’re her new boss?” His mouth fell open, so far that his jaw practically unhinged. He knew her new boss had to someone she knew, because she’d managed to find the job so quickly after moving back but… he hadn’t expected it to be him! This revelation was so big to him that he completely ignored the bit about a werewolf crashing into the car. ”That car is fucking nice. So nice she won’t lemme drive it! She gave me the other one, so I can’t complain, but wow… When I flew back last week I was worried we were gonna get stuck between Portland and here but then she takes me to this awesome, new car and I’m like whoa. Where'd you get the money for that? None of her old bosses ever got her a car! Nepotism works out, I guess… she’s got you as one boss and Uncle Andre- oh, close family friend- as another. Sweet deal.”

He grinned, looking at Edict like he’d hung all the stars in the sky rather than just providing a car and a job. He then held a finger up.
”But, you shouldn’t call her Jie. I’m just guessing, but you seem a bit older than her, right? Jie means big sister, you shouldn’t use it with someone younger. You should call her…” he paused, smile turning evil. ”Meimei when you next see her. She’ll love it.”

Edict cackled like a maniac as the sincerest young man he’d ever met was telling him that his sister would love being called little sister by him of all people. He imagined it going down so well; the mean-mugging and the cussing. The rage.
”Oh no, definitely not. I only called her that to you because that’s what you’re most comfortable knowing her as. It’s referential, not personal. She’ll always be Linqian to me, and I’m sure she would get touchy if I tried speaking Mandarin around her. Not that I know much, just what I can mind-read off of people like you.”

As he said “you”, Edict shot a hand across the seat and ruffled Henri’s curly mop.

”Look at you, man… You look just like Jinhai at your age. You… I bet you miss him a lot too, huh? Linqian without Jinhai is a lot like peanut butter without the bananas, at least for me. I thought for a long time I was going to like the peanut butter once the bananas were gone, but now something’s missing. And, I’m really sorry about that, Di-Di. And I’m sorry Linqian hasn’t been truthful to you about how he died…

Edict let the words echo across the car. He wasn’t lying, per se. He did miss Jinhai, mostly because despite everything else, he knew what banter was. He never had a problem telling Edict that he wasn’t liked, but he also never had a problem exchanging jabs whenever the opportunity came.
Granted, him not being here made stunts like this a thousand percent easier.

”Yeah, I do…” Henri trailed off, turning to look out the window for a moment. He loved his sister, she was more like a mom to him than the actual mother he could barely remember. But it was the same for Jinhai. And Jinhai had been around more. Henri knew it was because Linqian was working hard for them. At one point she’d been working so many hours at multiple jobs that she’d only been able to come home to nap before going back out again. But it meant he was closer to Jinhai… just a bit. ”It’s not the same without him around… but I bet Jie’s feeling the same way. Ge was with her for her whole life. They had plans, I think. She was definitely planning to work less…”

He shook his head, turning to look back at Edict. ”But, what do you mean she hasn’t been truthful? He was stabbed. I saw the police report and everything. She wouldn’t let me see the body before we cremated him, but she wasn’t lying about that. She wouldn’t.”

Edict’s head shifted back and forth several times like a snake slithering upward toward a higher perch. The grimace on his face was born of consideration, carefully choosing his next words. There was a fine line between the truth that Linqian had given him and what was real. But, frankly, the truth put the kid in danger. It was necessary; for him to grow.

”When we were a bit younger than you, sixteen, seventeen… There was a war in this city between a monster that wanted to destroy the world, and a bunch of teenage wizards. It’s how we met, its where we learned to use our powers: Now there’s someone out there killing our club. Our Coven.”
His face was stern, and he gave Henri a frown.
”Linqian’s not gonna tell you. She figures, since you’re not one of us, that whoever is responsible for these murders isn’t going to hurt you. But I don’t think you deserve to be blindsided. Especially if you have a chance of defending yourself.”

Henri's eyes widened, and the gears in his head were visibly turning. It was a lot to take in… ten years ago was when his parents had died, something he didn't remember even though he'd been there. Linqian and Jinhai said it was a natural disaster, and then spent the next month or so with a group of friends for 'support'... It must have been that monster. But-

”If they're killing everyone in your group then… that means Jie's in danger too.” Henri's expression swapped near immediately, from a bright and sunny smile to wide eyed fear and a harsh frown. ”That's why she's back here… something's trying to kill her and she didn't even tell me- but how can I defend myself against it if Ge couldn't?! He was like. Super smart… how will she defend herself? Fuck.”

Just like that, Henri was beginning to spiral into a full crisis.

”Henri, I need you to be strong because I’m trusting you. Alright? Listen to me. We need to talk about how I can help you get through this as well, because I won’t be able to do things for you that I can for others. It’s… Too dangerous.”

Scrubbing Henri’s mind of fear and panic would only bring more attention onto Edict if Linqian noticed. This was already a big risk, but… Well, what was life without a little havoc?
”I am so serious that your sister cannot know about us meeting. You can’t tell her. It will get the both of us in too much trouble, and you’ll never hear the end of it… But, you are going to come clean about your magic. You’re going to confess like you don’t know she knows, capice? Like you’re a freak, like you’ve lived with a disease all your life and you’re getting it off your chest.”

Henri was nodding along, taking deep breaths to calm himself down, right up until he was told to tell Linqian about his magic. His head snapped around to stare at Edict.
”But… but… she didn't tell me about it in the first place, that must've been for a reason, right?! If I tell her she'll just have another thing to worry about-”

He shook his head, raising a hand to his mouth and nibbling on his nails for a moment. Actually, maybe that was wrong. Maybe it would mean she didn't have to worry as much. Yeah! That was right, then she wouldn't have to worry about him also being in danger and he'd be able to protect her. Yeah! He'd have to get better at magic first but… he could do that!
”No, you're right- of course you're right. I have to be strong- and to be able to do that I need to tell her about it. I'll make sure to act like my life depends on it. Uh, lemme check…” Henri got out his phone, pulling up the work schedule Linqian had sent him. ”She's working the next three days… I'll tell her in four! You can hold me to that- assuming she isn't doing any work for you that day- and, uh, I dunno. I'll pay some kinda penalty if I don't!”

Edict furrowed his brow, unsure of the young man’s situational awareness. It seemed like either he hadn’t grasped the absolute gravity of the situation, or he simply wasn’t bothered by it.
”Penalty schmenalty, my man. It’s very important, the penalty could be death and you may not even see it coming. It's best you come clean to her as soon as possible, even if she doesn’t want to help you learn. Even if she says that she wants you to give it all up. You’re going to learn, and I’m going to help you, because there’s gonna be a time when she’s going to need to lean on you. Understand that?”

”I understand,” Henri nodded - he mostly understood. The gravity of the situation hadn't sunk in, and was unlikely too. Henri had most been sheltered from the realities of loss by his siblings and had basically coasted through life. Even with Jinhai dead, it didn't quite seem real to him. But he could do what Edict was telling him to. ”She won't want to help me learn- well, she won't have time to anyway. But I definitely will learn! Right now I can hardly do anything with it… all I can do is suck in some light and then shoot it back out, or make myself stronger with it. I have no idea how to make it better, or about anything, really… if that killer comes for Jie now I won't be able to do anything. Fuck, I thought it would just be a fun thing I could like a party trick.”

Edict shook his head as he pulled the car up to a quiet looking warehouse down by the harbor. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a private place that the two of them would still have the benefit of being protected. One of his Uncle’s facilities, the place was staffed by a group of guards and a few other people responsible for the computer work being done inside. It was a large place full of containers and shelves that stacked from the floor to the ceiling, and several open-ceiling rooms on the first and second floor that served as office spaces.

”Its important you know that your sister’s work for me has nothing to do with my everyday business. Important because I don’t want you accidentally implicating her, or conflating her employment with what I do.”
Edict slowly walked to the side of the building, wrapping his knuckles against the door in a targeted fashion. The metal slider flicked open, and two eyes peered out at the two of them before it slammed shut and the door fully opened.
”My business is… Not for you to be involved in either. I don’t want you getting any thoughts about bags of money or jewelry heists: I am an import/export specialist, and that’s all you need to know.”

Men in suits. Pinstripes, colorful ties, Uzi machine pistols hanging from their shoulders on slings. Some of them looked hard, like they’d been cut from stone blocks, and they stared at Henri with barely contained hostility. When Edict caught one of their gazes, he stuffed him with his shoulder and stared at him like a predator defending its young.
”The fuck are you looking at, Rudy? Eh?”
The man immediately softened and backed down, and they continued on through the facility to a set of stairs that went down.

The concrete room was something like a secret hideout: The walls were paneled with dark wood, and there was a bar with nobody at the helm along with some gambling tables. Craps, poker, roulette, the more that came into focus the more clear it would be that the place was an illegal gambling den. It was personal, for family use, and there weren’t any games scheduled for a while.

Edict had a briefcase with him, and he put it up on the bar.
”Alright… So, first thing’s first, you come on over and sit here on this couch.” he said, patting the arm of the couch next to him. From the case, he produced a pen and a pad of paper.

Henri was just a little bit overwhelmed. Just a little bit. But not a lot, because he was someone who could totally handle anything, including the fact that Linqian's boss slash friend was possibly some kind of criminal. Mobster? He didn't really know about these things outside of movies. He was cool like in the movies. And this place looked like some kinda gambling den right outta a movie! What the fuck- it was a lot to be hit with… thank god his sister wasn't involved in any of that. Henri didn't want to be involved in that either! Then what work did his sister do for him? Wait, no, he shouldn't ask. He wasn't even supposed to know who her boss was. It was totally fine.

With a nod, Henri super confidently walked over to the couch and definitely didn't trip over his own feet on the way. He saved it with a half twist of his hips, turning around awkwardly and landing on the couch as if that was planned all along. Nice save!

”Sooooo… Am I about to have to sign some kinda agreement about not telling anyone about all of this?” Henri laughed, looking around. After a brief shock he'd taken all the shocks in like he did everything with life - not thinking too hard about it, and just completely chilling. It was clear the more he looked around the more energetic he got and the more questions he wanted to ask. But he held his tongue about all the ones about Edict's business. ”Y'know when I see a pad of paper I start thinking I'm back in Uni and about to have to frantically keep up with lectures- kinda stupid right? Not that this is gonna be a lecture, I hope… what is the paper and pen for?”

Looking at the notebook, it was clear the thing was well used. As Edict flipped through it, one could easily see it was full from page to page with writing filling the margins as well. He flipped and flipped, pausing on one page to get a look at an old example before speaking again.
”No, no. You can consider this a… A formal interview. Essentially I’ll be picking through your brain, hunting for your Kindling event, observing your usage of power through memories, basically-”

He flipped the pages again, finally landing on an empty one and taking a deep breath.
”-getting your profile as a wizard down on paper, so I can examine and put a plan together for you after we talk to some professionals.”

His look was very serious, sincere as hell. To be fair, Edict didn’t really know what he was doing at all besides that he was doing what he always did: Getting as much information as possible. He was going to pick Henri’s brain for a lot more than some magic crap.
Or was he? There was a long moment where Edict considered if he was just doing this because Linqian didn’t want him to. Just to prove to her that he didn’t have to be a complete scumbag.

Or maybe he saw a kid who could be helpful, and he hated thinking that someone was wasting the potential. He stood at the precipice of a decision: A fork in the road between ruination and brotherhood.
”You, Henri Han, are a part of your family’s legacy. You carry the blood of magic passed down through countless generations, and all that influence has pooled in you. You’ve been gifted with the chance to use that magic, the Lux of your body, to do great things for your friends and family that others in this world are simply incapable of doing. With your gift, you’re able to see the flow of life beyond the mundane: Your Third Eye is open.”

He pulled his sunglasses from the pocket they were hidden in in his jacket and slipped them over his eyes, looking back up at Henri. Instantly, his Emotional Field was being bombarded by a thousand memories that Edict had seen in his life. From the mundane to the horrifying to the ecstatic. Each one beamed across the field, shattering at the side of Henri’s vision for what seemed like minutes, but had only been a few seconds.
None of it was coherent; simply a display of power.

”Your mind is naturally protected from many horrors that would otherwise make what we call a Blind a free target. An Emotional Field. And, like most stable young folks, yours is particularly strong and robust. In order for me to truly utilize my powers to help you, I’ll need to get behind that field.
Essentially, I need your consent, Henri. I need to know if you’re willing to Let. Me. In.

”I'm willing!” Henri said near immediately. He had no reason not to trust Edict - he said everything so seriously and it all made perfect sense. They needed to know what Henri could do first to figure out next steps, and it would be much faster to just let him in. His notebook was absolutely full, and seemed legit - not that Henri could read much of it in the quick flipping through.

And Edict was strong. The movie that played across Henri's vision was insane - he hadn't seen anything like it. He'd barely seen any magic beyond his own, but whoa. It was like a glimpse into Edict's life and power without truly comprehending anything… which only impressed Henri more. Combined with everything he said, giving Henri the confidence that he could be something with his magic - he could protect his sister with it.

”What do I have to do?” Henri twisted around to look at Edict, though it was difficult to make eye contact when his eyes were shaded. He tried to look as serious as possible, but his lips still twitched up towards a smile and he was shifting constantly in excitement. ”I only got magic a couple of months ago, so there isn't much to see… but just do your stuff. So how do I let you in… uh lemme try letting down my emotional field thing."

Henri furrowed his brow as he thought about it. How did he do this… was it like using his magic? Wait. The night of the Halloween festival, when Edict had initially prodded at his mind. It had been like he was trying to get in but blocked by… something. Was that his emotional field? It was like a strange barrier that he hadn't known was there, blocking the tendril that tried to slide in. He briefly closed his eyes, picturing it. A glowing forcefield around his mind, sturdily keeping anything that he didn't want to come in out. Like something right out of a movie. He just had to disable it. Suddenly realizing how to drop it.

He mentally turned off the switch, forcefield dropping. His emotional field lowered, and Edict was invited into the warm, sunshine filled room that was Henri's mind. A small living room, cluttered with family photos and cupboards half open, mess strewn across the couch. A friendly, well lived in place. It was different from the happy place of Linqian's mind - likely the apartment they'd moved to away from St Portwell. Her and Jinhai were featured in a lot of the pictures - mostly photographs of the three of them, Henri's memories with his siblings painted clearly on the walls. It was open and warm, as if there was nothing to hide, and Edict was welcome to come in and take a look at whatever he wanted to.

Edict was so used to having to open the door himself that walking into a welcome home was rather shocking. Blinds never exuded enough willpower to project Centers like this, but Adepts never trusted him enough to leave things so comfortable. It was messy, not in the sense that things were dirty or out of place. Just that things were living. It was a real place. Not some fantasy, no, Henri Han’s paradise was here on Earth. He took a mental note, and his hand blindly began to write in a strange forced code to which there was simply no key. He would, like any language, simply recognize the “words” on the page.

At first, he found it completely empty. But he could feel Henri’s breath all around him, slow and gentle. Unbothered by a new presence, unlike some who couldn’t help but get nervous. He kept looking at the pictures and things, smiling to himself at Jinhai’s own smile. The resemblance… He couldn’t help but be jealous that the three of them had gotten to land so squarely in the middle of both their heritages. It made him want to grow his hair out again.

"You totally should!" Henri said, his projection appearing within the room as well and looking around with a grin. It didn't really register with it that he'd heard Edicts thoughts rather than something he'd said out loud… if Henri heard it Edict just want him to, right? "Y'know Jie used to be ashamed of her hair… I think she got bullied a bit when they lived in China, so she straightened it for the longest time. Then she just stopped one day. Dunno what clicked there. Whereas I never cared! I mean, I was always surrounded by people with hair like mine… Mom and dad always made sure we had a bit of both cultures, and Jie and Ge tried to keep that up with me."

He grinned brightly. "I do hear that I look like him a lot."

Edict halted all outward thought, realizing how deeply he’d underestimated the young Adept. He turned, a furrowed brow on his face as he looked at the fridge and made his way toward it. Opening it up, it was full. A total projection, without any sort of prompting. He pulled a can of seltzer out of it and went for a few of the cabinets until he inevitably found where Linqian kept her stash. Two cups hit the table, and he poured some jin into the seltzer and slid one to Henri.

”Well, you can underage drink in your mind. We’ll share one while I try and figure out how you’ve managed to avoid being a fucked up teenager.” Edict shook his head, pulling the drink to his lips and feeling the most realistic drink he’d had in someone’s mind in quite a few years.

”Sweet!” Henri grinned, grabbing the drink and taking a large swig of it. He immediately scrunched his face up at the taste. He quickly adapted to post the taste of the alcohol, and essentially… being in his own mind. He shoved aside some hoodies on the couch and plopped down on it. ”Why would I be a fucked up teen, though? I guess my parents died when I was young… but I hardly remember them, if I’m honest. Everything after that was pretty fine! Y’know, Jie acts all rough but she raised me real well. Y’know, when we first moved we lived in this one bedroom flat and she slept on the sofa for a whole year so I didn’t have to, even though I would’ve fit on it better.”

”Well you should remember that… Little Brother, I… I can’t lie to you in your own head. It’s kind of fucked up, but essentially you’ve got quite the little fortress going on in here. Usually people are unsure of things, or unfamiliar with their insides like this. You seem naturally gifted. Actually, Jinhai was like this. There was a time when we tried to be friends, and he let me into his mind and I kind of… Well, I had the same thought you heard. About being jealous of your looks. He got pissy about it… Oh… Well, so it won’t come back to bite me, I’m nobody’s friend in the Coven. Nobody liked me. I’m a criminal, and I’ve never not acted like it. Your brother? He really didn’t like me, but he did try. Bless his heart…” Edict trailed off, and his eyes looked at Jinhai.

There was a moment where Edict couldn’t hide his mind and where it went. His hurt, his pain, and the recent reconciliation between himself and Britney that was beginning to move his heart in another direction. Henri would catch a whiff of violence and anger, and a woman’s voice speaking in a deep Caribbean accent and a language he wouldn’t understand were it not for his and Edict’s minds slowly meshing together.

There was a moment where Henri could hear Jinhai’s voice. It was a tirade, a burning admonishment from Jinhai’s lips to Greyson’s ears that called him awful things. And then another in Linqian’s voice. He was projecting memories, letting the two brains meld tighter.
”I’m not that anymore. I’ve thought about that. But now I can’t get anyone to give me a second chance, except for two. You met Britney the other night… And your sister. But she’s still afraid, because she doesn’t want me to talk to you. She thinks I’m going to hurt you, or do the things that I used to try and do… That I still do in my line of work.”

There was a loud, flashing moment where Edict and Henri were standing across from one another bathed in violet and pink strobe lights. It was a club, and people were dancing all around them.
But it was just a flash. They were standing across one another at that table still.
”What I do, I do for business. I thought those people were going to be my brothers and sisters forever. But they dropped me. And I came here today because I was going to manipulate you and hurt your sister by doing so… But you’re strong, Henri. And I’m blessed to be strong too. I can help you now, and make your life better and do better for your sister and the others too… And I can show them what they’ve missed out on. And you can tell them firsthand one day. What do you think about that?”

”Wait, so…” Henri narrowed his eyes, vision swimming from the sudden strobe lights and mind processing all the words he’d been bombarded with. He couldn’t control his expression as Edict revealed what he’d actually planned to do. His smile dropped, shoulders tensing and arms crossing over his chest. At the same time the room around them flickered slightly, a picture of young Henri with his siblings falling to the floor with a thud. His siblings' angry tirades didn’t phase him - he’d heard it plenty from Linqian, occasionally from Jinhai. But that did.

As much as Henri was incredibly dense about many practical things, he wasn’t stupid. In fact, his mind was almost as quick as Jinhai’s.
”My sister is one of the two people who gave you a second chance.” His voice was strangely flat, the light hanging from the ceiling between them flickered wildly. ”And you were going to use me to hurt her for something ten years ago. Do you know what it was like for her then? Our parents were dead. She thinks I don’t know, but I’m not stupid. She was working two jobs with no break. She came home, slept, left for work. I barely saw her- but she dropped you…”

The light disappeared, plunging his mind room into darkness as it was absorbed into his body. There weren’t many light sources in the room… but this was his mind. His memories. It wasn’t difficult to expand it out to the whole apartment, stealing the light from every room. His hands started to glow, arms growing stronger. He moved forward, closing the gap until he was just a step away from Edict.
”I think that you shouldn’t have told me you were going to hurt my sister- why the fuck shouldn’t I just throw you out of my mind and fucking tell her?!”

Edict would’ve grinned at a reaction like this any other time… But he wasn’t taunting Henri. He wasn’t looking to get under Henri’s skin, or rile him up. However, he did take another sip of the drink. It was dry and tasteless, and reflected the shift in tone. It wasn’t a good place anymore, not unless he did the convincing.

”You lie to her. She lies to you, they lied to you. But it was never malice. It was out of love and care, that they didn’t want to trouble you and you didn’t want to trouble them. But what is honesty to you, Henri Han? Do you have someone you can be one hundred percent honest with? Who isn’t going to judge you?” Edict spoke calmly to Henri. He wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t unable to spin or weave a lie.

Simply put, he chose not to. Henri would just hear it anyway.

”But as far as kicking me out? You can’t. Simply put, you let me in. You don’t get to let me out. If I snuck in? Well, you’d be able to get me out. But I asked, and you opened. Then and there is where I would’ve taken advantage of you, Henri. But I didn’t. I saw this beautiful little place, and you know what I thought of?”

There was a grating, churning shift that rotated the world around them. Every piece of furniture or surface seemed to twist in spot until it was similar but… Different. Different materials, slightly different orientations. The living room furniture was different, there were no more lights to take, it was a strange greyscale world. A memory caught in black and white.
Pink washed over it, and gave way to color until they were in a very similar apartment. There were no photos, but there were different art pieces, African looking totems and blankets with Saharan animals on them. The smell of lilac and vanilla wafted through the air. It was eerie how similarly the places were set up.

”It reminded me of my happy place. Uncanny, huh? How similar they’re set up? It’s… I have a lot of these. I call them Centers. But the oldest and closest one is this apartment. My Mom’s, when I was finally forced out of my Father’s house to live with her. It’s where I first really learned about magic and about Lux. I thought about the story I was going to tell you, and about how I was going to lie to you… And I remembered that when I was learning, nobody did that to me. And that I would’ve been heartbroken if they did. And I put all of this together when you… When I saw this.”

In an instant, they were back to Henri’s own Center, and Greyson smiled at him now. Not Edict, but Greyson. Eighteen year old Greyson Devola, freshly Made and fresh out of the Sycamore Tree Coven. He was in a t-shirt, some shorts… Not the smart business attire that Edict had worn in.

”It would be an awful waste if you kept doing party tricks your whole life, just like it would be an awful waste if I spent my entire life spinning my wheels on a perceived slight. Not when we can both be more useful for the people who love us and who we love back. So what do you say we start from the top?”

Greyson held out his hand.
”I’m Greyson. Greyson Devola. Mobster, Warlock, and a recovering fucked up kid. If you don’t think you want to know me, then that’s fine. I’ll leave, and I’ll disappear out of your life just like she would want. But let me stick around, and I’ll do right by you, and her.”

At first, Henri wanted to punch him. But he wasn’t like Linqian - quick to violent anger. What he did share with her was quick emotional changes, flash of anger disappearing as Greyson continued to talk. He was right. He hadn’t taken advantage of Henri where he could have, after Henri so easily let him in. He was offering to leave. He hadn’t actually hurt Linqian yet. And if she really was in danger, he needed to get stronger. She wouldn’t help him. She had too much on her plate.

And there was no one else. Henri was willing to forgive the harm that could have been for the openness that had actually happened.

”Alright,” Henri let out a long breath, and with it all the light he’d gathered flitted out of his body into two soft, glowing orbs between them. It softly lit up the room. He looked at Greyson’s outstretched hand, and didn’t go to shake it yet. ”Let’s start again. But you have to promise to not hurt my sister. She’s been through enough. Do right by her, like you said. If you do, you might be surprised… she’s pretty fucking cool towards the people she cares about.”

He smiled again. It wasn’t quite as bright as before, but it was there. He reached out to shake Greyson’s hand.
”I’m Henri Han- well, Jie would want me to introduce myself as Huanyi, but not many people can pronounce it. I’m good with either. I’m a mechanical engineering student- unless I drop out- and a part-time magical light man. But I want to be more than that. So nice to meet you again, and please help me improve my magic.”

A warmth filled the room as both individuals accepted the agreement. Maybe he'd gotten a little wrapped up in the moment, but Greyson kept his head empty. He motioned toward the couch. The two of them had a table full of food, snacks and drinks.
”Time moves slower in the Center. We've got an hour outside, four hours here. Get ready for cram school, Huanyi."

He pronounced the name perfectly.

Part 2: November 2nd, Evening
The Apothecary, Back Rooms
House of Cards by @Estylwen

The room was dimly lit with a candle on the vanity table. A sweeping dark hat framed the dusty mirror, obscuring the face of a woman who was furious.

A pen palmed her hand, scratching out black ink in a diary. She wrote, letter by letter in furious cursive.

Revenge List:

B-R-I-T-N-NNNnnnn—


Phantasia stifled a moan as a pounding headache took over. She blinked, completely losing her train of thought, looking confused at the paper, before her brows furrowed. The diary smashed into the far wall, and Phantasia sat there with her head in her hands, glowering in the mirror.

This ruined her plans. Her experimentation had cost her dearly.

Plus… The itch in her mind had only grown. She had to see him again.

Everything was messed up. Her carefully constructed plans, her revenge. The mantle on her shoulders, her responsibility, her duty to the sealed. The barbarically sealed.

Void would have some witty remark about this, surely. He always knew how to get under her skin.

Phantasia sighed. Edict would have his own plans. And she, her own. At the end of this, only one thing was clear: She needed to even the scales.


November 2nd, Night
Luxury Heights Project, 5th Floor


The operation was a little too wound tight, a little too well-polished. With the advantage of sending the invitation, Phantasia arrived first, setting up her men around her. They were on the fifth floor of a half-constructed skyscraper project. Five suited men were visible where they stood. Four stood behind cement pillars, hands on their holsters. The getaway car below was primed with additional men and a warm engine.

Phantasia stood near the edge of the floor, in the open but within her circle of men. Like her men, she was also equipped with a Kevlar vest under her white blouse and dress skirt. She had one extra addition, however. Around her neck was nothing other than a shock collar.

She stared expectantly at the stairwell, recounting the note sent to Edict.

I cordially invite you to the Luxury Heights Project, 5th floor, to further discuss business.

If the Devola crew was anything, it was Militant. At least half a dozen cousins had served in the last half of the war, and their relatives out in the Med had been shipping plenty of Italian and captured American surplus in order to cover their losses during the decade prior.

The Sicilian Families had never taken kindly to Fascists at their doors; they were moral busybodies far too interested in people’s private affairs to let money be made cleanly, and disputes handled quietly. So the Resistance had been hard at work modifying captured weapons and body armor to specifications fit for the more covert work of La Cosa Nostra.

Edict smiled as he thought about those brave bastards gutting their enemies in roving gangs of half-silent men and women with submachine guns tucked under their coats. The Gang marched practically in unison, suits and ties and tactical vests, cigarettes hanging from lips that spoke in soft tones, the clicking of metal impacting metal and leather soles impacting tiled floors.
One fiddled with the weight of his Browning, gripping the twenty-round box magazine like a handle to readjust the weight on his chest and back.

Edict was thankful he was wearing sunglasses; she didn’t need to know his eyes were closed. The day he’d gotten the letter, he sent a mole to the projects with a camcorder to capture the routes to the fifth floor, and he’d studied the shit out of it in order to commit to memory.

Now a Power Word marched his entire group’s steps like they were one entity, the puppet master in the middle disconnecting their ability to see from their brains.

He could feel they were nervous, and frankly he was too. But, not like them. They were all Blinds; easy tools for slaughter if the need arose. A wall he could put in front of the bullets and escape behind. There was a backed up secondary command which would let him drop the connection to them while releasing a morphine-like effect all in the same pull.

A painless death. Just in case.

As the group ascended the stairs, Edict gathered the visual data from his soldiers in rapid fashion.

She’d seen him, he’d seen her… They both knew what they were dealing with now. He only wondered if she’d thought about everything they shared between then and now.

And there she was. They ascended to the fifth floor, and one head turned to meet the House of Cards. Each head and body twisted and pivoted like robotic soldiers, turning to face Phantasia with their full bodies. They filed in, and Edict split the group, standing at the front. His black long-coat was tucked tight to his chest by the kevlar plate carrier he was wearing, his tie tucked underneath.

He was wearing an all-red ensemble. No need to see him bleeding. One of his men gave a weak whimper, the sensation of not being fully in control of his body an otherworldly torture.

”Phantasia, my Darling… I’d say you’re looking lovely, but you already knew that. I guess the pill finally dissolved, eh? Did you at least give my ideas a little bit of thought?”
Edict grinned from behind dark glasses. Pink Lux was radiating off of his body in such a heavy fashion that he had an aura visible to any other Adept around him.
Slung around his shoulder and chest, a state of the art next generation Thompson M3A, its compact sixty round drum magazine wound tightly as it bristled in waiting for its time to shine.

Phantasia did something she normally never did when greeting the approaching unisioned men. She held her hat, and removed it completely, giving it to a suited man beside her. Her pink eyes illuminated the dimness of the fifth floor, streetlight from outside cutting through the missing walls.

Her gaze locked onto Edict's. Then shifted to his men. Hm. It was as she thought. He had taken precautions. She couldn't get a hold- or more exactly, there was no will to grip, no wall to push over. Like a connection had been severed.

Well. No matter.

She tutted a bit. They were carrying bigger guns. She should have known. But no matter. It meant they both weren't beating around the bush, so to speak.

Her electrified nerves tingled in anticipation, and she smiled a sharp smile.

“You honour me, Mr. Devola. I've given your ideas plenty of thought. But…” Her gaze shifted over the men opposing her and their strapped guns. “I think we both know what I've concluded.”

She gave a small whistle, gesturing to the No Man's Land between them. Two suits stepped forward, placing a fold-out table and two metal chairs in the center.

“We know what you think, and we also know what I think. And I feel a little injured, having your ideas in my head so.”

She gestured to the table, pulling out a deck of cards from her sleeve. Nice and slow. No need for anyone to get any funny ideas that she was pulling a gun in a situation like this.

Yes. Settling her disputes the Cards way. Her way. She licked her lips in anticipation.

“How about we make a game out of it? No need to get our men injured, yes? A round of poker. You win, I'll let you put whatever idea you want in my head. I win, and you surrender to my eyes. You owe me that much.”

She cupped the cards in front of her, before causing them to leap from one hand to the other in a smooth card spring flourish. The sound of crisp cards clicking against one another as they settled back into her hand brought a sense of satisfaction to her face, and she smirked at Edict.

“At the end of the day, this is about your beloved Britney, isn't it? A war can be avoided between us, if you choose to solve this… diplomatically.”

She gestured to the table, waiting for Edict to take a seat.

Edict, however, was more than skeptical. Playing cards with people who know magic is like going into a lying competition with a Presidential Candidate; some even think they’re not cheating, but if one has any kind of power they’re bound to use it in a productive way. There wasn’t a shred of evidence that made him comfortable in any way.

But just like Phantasia had hoped to gleam knowledge from her invitation into her head, so too did the young Capo in regards to this game.
”Best two of three… I find best of one to be entirely unsportsmanlike. Flukes, freak chance, cheating…”
Edict would’ve narrowed his eyes if they were open, but he still flourished with his hands, all six of his guards making the same motions with vague pained groans as they did so.

”I agree entirely.” Phantasia said with an amiable tone, eyes hovering on the groans of his men.

”Y’know, I’m at a terrible disadvantage as it is… The eyes and everything… You can’t possibly know how hard it is to put six blurry points of view together into one image.”

He did, however, take his seat. He didn’t like any bit of it, however, and expected nothing but the worst outcome. He’d prepared for an escape attempt at the very least, but Edict found himself contemplating the outcome if he failed at that. Who would come for him? All his death would be is an early warning to Britney to start running…
But if he thought like that about everything, he’d never have made Capo. He’d not have seen everything he had so far in his life. He’d definitely not have still done his part against the fucking Stygian Snake.

His gun brushed between his legs, and for a moment there was a flashing thought of hoisting it under the table and raking the magazine full of forty-five in and across the table. Enough bullets and he’d die, but… If it wasn’t enough? Or if they missed out of shock? But he couldn’t coordinate the others without telegraphing, not without risking the chance of his own inaccuracy blowing his skull out of his face from the rear.

Edict’s forearms came up onto the table, fingers folding into one another.
”Let’s get this over with…”

Phantasia watched carefully, before passing the deck to one of her men, and sitting across from Edict. The cards were shuffled, and cards were dealt. Phantasia gazed over her cards, leaning back idly in her seat.

The air was charged with a heavy weight. At any moment, either party could open fire and finish what they came here to do. She walked a fine line, a tightrope between life and death at that very moment.

Yet, such was the life of a mobstress.

She picked two cards out of her hand and threw them face down. The dealer picked them up and replaced them, and she looked over her new cards. Her face was a careful mask, but a hint of sincerity surfaced.

She leaned forward. “I was looking forward to that meal at the Elder Lamb. Two families, side by side, drinking wine and breaking bread.”

As she spoke, her hand dropped to the side, enough to jostle free two cards that lay tucked in the sleeve. With a sleight of hand, she quietly slipped them into her hand, dropping two others.

“I guess we're too far gone for that, huh? You really adamant on this girl?”

Her tone dropped to a somber tone.“You really adamant on this ending in bloodshed?”

She waited for Edict to discard and draw for his own hand, and then she flourished her cards face-up on the table.

A full house, aces high.

“I win the first round, Edict.”

Edict's heart wasn't in the cards. It was miles away, with a six foot chocolate queen who had big hair and a bigger brain. He was twelve years back, quietly watching from the sidelines as a group of teenagers drank and partied and tried to forget that some of them were going to die the next day.
Edict faced death long before he met the Sycamore Tree. It was part of the life of a Mafioso, you had to look it in the eye and direct it toward your enemies while steering it away from your allies. Luck wasn’t an option, you had to manipulate the draw for every single thing, because the stakes were always so fucking high that failure quickly became a non-option.

But he wasn’t there. This was difficult; it was love, but it was hate. It was wanting to help, but not wanting to help with what they wanted. Phantasia Vorpal was Made, just like Edict had been. The Boss of her own family, a Capo of the North-West Federation, fairly respected among their peers, and all thanks to the exact same little secret that Edict had used.
One of the guards got a good shot of the cheated cards hitting the floor.

”You dropped something, Vorpal… I fold.”
His eyes stared directly at her through closed lids. Phantasia's eyes immediately narrowed, covering the skip of her heartbeat.

Edict continued. ”While you deal the next hand that I’ll inevitably lose, how about you tell me something? Did it ever occur to you that our mutual friends; the important ones, that is. Did it ever occur to you that they’d have something to say about you going on like this? Over some ghost? I think you and I both know that this goes nowhere.”

“That's the thing. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.” Phantasia said with a soft smile.

Another set of cards slid into his fingers, and he waited to lift them to check.
”We’re both Made, Phantasia. Two people Made in a life that wouldn’t normally accept us. We stand at unreasonable heights, following the ancient code and tradition of La Cosa Nostra. The war we wage would far surpass the heads of our dearest elders, and yet you’re willing to drive us there? Over this… Minor… Problem?”

Phantasia paused and listened as Edict spoke, not looking at her cards right away. He referred to Void as a ‘minor problem’. How little he knew.

She picked up her cards, fanning them out a little, looking over the faces to level adamant eyes at Edict.

”You're right. We're in a position that not many folks get, or even dream of. We get to choose if those around us live or die…”

She withdrew three cards and gently tossed them face-down towards the dealer.

“Sometimes, our hand is forced…”

The dealer laid out three more cards, which Phantasia slipped into her hand.

“Sometimes, the sacrifice outweighs the risks…”

She uncrossed and crossed her legs, dress settling in ruffles around her. She leaned a little forward.

“If I killed your uncle, right now, you would have sacrificed something great. Too great to bear. Wouldn't you do anything fix that? Blood for blood?”

Phantasia's pink eyes narrowed at Edict. “It's the same for me when I lost Void. So you see, we're at a crossroads. The immovable rock meets the unstoppable force, so to speak.”

After Edict had discarded, she laid her cards out flat, clicking slightly on the table. A High Card, Aces high.

“Reveal your hand, Edict. Let me see you go good on our little deal.”

Edict had pulled two cards and slapped them on the table, getting two more as Phantasia spoke. He considered what she was saying about Void Heart and how special he’d been to her.
”An eye for an eye is so uncreative, Phantasia. Frankly, it’s the small game.”

He didn’t grin as he looked at the straight flush he had in his hands, nor did he react when she laid her flattened hand down to play it. It was safe to assume she wasn’t the type to fold, even if it meant saving herself.
”I should’ve injected some better ideas… But, I recognize you and your position. I hope that’s been obvious. I didn’t gelatinize your brain, I didn’t plant any bombs in this building in anticipation of our meeting: Frankly, I’ve been nothing but respectful.”

“Indeed you have.” Phantasia said.

He laid his hand down on the table, staring up. Six to ten, a flush straight in spades slid down on the table.

The six heads of his enthralled guards all fixed on Phantasia as Edict would with his own two eyes.
”My round. Maybe, before we get to this last round where you drop two more cards out of your hand and swap them with your sleeve cards, you’ll give me the common courtesy of explaining why Void Heart is so important to you? And, maybe you can explain why his host was shacked up with a gang of frothing cultists and not with our Family? It may go a long way in helping me reconsider things before they get… Ugly.”







Phantasia conceded the round. Now they were tied, 1-1. Everything hung on this last round.

As the dealer shuffled the deck and passed out the new hands, Phantasia could feel the eyes on her. Edict wanted a story. Who was the Void Heart to her?

It was an excellent question. One that she had thought on quite a bit in these past few days.

That troublesome Void Heart…

Phantasia sighed, looking over her cards as she leaned back in her seat. “A respectful Capo such as yourself deserves an answer, at least before things go south. I'm not cruel enough to deprive you of that.”

She set her hand face down on the table, leaned forward, and laced her fingers together. Her eyes were just a bit far away, recounting a time that felt like eons ago.

“The Void Heart came to me through Luna, you might remember her.”

Her head tilted, eyes shifting between holding each of the gazes of the suited men staring at her.

“The Void Heart and its host, Alizée, were doing odd jobs for me here and there, until the fated night my casino burned down. When I tell the story, I always fail to mention that I was in that fire. Void came to the rescue of my guards and I, preventing a collapsed wall from smothering us. To this day, I owe that inky little ball my life. I suppose that's why I never killed him…”

She picked up her hand, glancing down at it before returning her gaze to Edict.

“I kept getting reports of men collapsing for no reason. It wasn't until Alizée and the Void Heart were caught in the act of feasting on my men that I realized their betrayal. By that time, they had gotten closer to those folks dressed in black, preaching about Eden… I let them jump ship, since I owed my life to the Void Heart. Hearing his passing… From the very people he took refuge in before and after me…”

Phantasia softly shook her head. “It was too much.”

She picked out a couple cards, and set them aside. The dealer gave her replacements, which she slipped into her hand.

“Does that satisfy your curiosity, Edict? Will you sleep peacefully now, after you try to kill me?”

Edict’s lips pursed and his nose crinkled as he tried to keep his mind loose and without tension. He wasn’t upset, certainly he understood what she was going on about, especially with the idea of loyalty and personal honor. The tattoo on his back symbolized that kind of mentality, the same ideological conditioning that was drilled into the head of every young boy and girl who stepped into their Life. The Family, the Firm, it was supposed to be a code that they lived by.

And this magic shit really got in the way of it. It really got in the way of business, and Edict at once thought about how he wished everyone shared his mindset. He wished he could just force it on her, on the only people who needed it forced on them. Those who were worse than blinds when it came to their rabid power-hungry madness and vicious greed. He was one of those men, sure; but how long could one be that?

One of his guards looked at his cards. They weren’t great.

”That’s not the code, Phantasia. Our Thing here… You’re a Boss, see; maybe of a small family, but you are. I’m here as a member of the Devola Clan: My Father is Capo di Tutti Capi. You know this. Yet, you’re willing to push this line and break This Thing of Ours? Then frankly, Phantasia… I don’t believe your story anymore than I believe you’re holding a legitimate hand.”

Phantasia's eyes delicately narrowed at that, but said nothing.

Edict leaned back in his chair, fingers fiddling with his cards as he took the last few deep breaths he may have ever.
”But if you’re telling the truth, then frankly the Sycamore Tree had nothing to do with Void Heart’s death. You know that Temple does business with Dollhouse? Illicit goods and materials, vendored through me. Me directly. I know what they do, Phantasia. And I know how to get to them. And that knife that Void Heart is stuck in.”

He folded his hand, sliding it across the table.
”Don’t let the last words between us be bloody, Sister. Tu mi gratti la schiena, io gratterò la tua… (You scratch my back, I scratch yours.)”

.
.
.


It was a dark night. Clouds hung in the sky in an oppressive atmosphere. They stood on the rooftops overlooking the casino's charred embers, still smoldering.

Phantasia stood stony-faced, refusing to let her men to see the despair ripping her apart inside.

“Zu'u kriist voth hi ko vulom. (I stand with you in the darkness.)

An abyssal black ball hovered in the air beside Phantasia, red eyes shifting from the smoke to her, cracking in the center to form a jagged smile.

“I never abandon my toys, and Alizée's taken a fancy to you.” He said, creating a phantom hand to thumb at the pale girl watching the embers with grim fury.

“We're gonna get whoever did this, alright?”

.
.
.


Phantasia felt the flashes of memory in her mind, and her eyes subtly changed from pink, to purple, and back. There was an emotion stirring in her that she daren't believe, that she daren't indulge.

There was a long, unsettling pause, the men behind her shifting from one leg to the other, eyes on their Boss.

Until she finally spoke.

“Let’s say I believe you. What do you have to gain from this, besides avoiding a war? Would you really give up a valuable business connection to satisfy me?”

Her eyes narrowed, boring into him, willing to see past the mask.

“There has to be more to it, there always is.”

He was right, of course. Her hand was a farce this round. She glanced at it once, and folded. Instead, she leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands overlapped.

“So, let me entertain your thought. Let us discuss the terms.”

She glanced at the pistols gleaming in her men's hands, then back towards Edict.

“Killing is easy for us, but a bloodbath won't solve our problems… You know what I want. I want the Void Heart. What do you want?”

Edict settled in slightly, taking a deep breath as she acquiesced to intelligent discussion. His slave-guard eased their arms slowly, tension falling away from the room as a dozen men overall took a drink of warm life from the air around them. He thought about what he actually wanted…

”I think what I want is for the two of us to come to an understanding. That This Thing of Ours will always transcend this Outer Sphere bullshit. That, when the chips are down and the cards are folded, we can still come together and shake hands like our Ancestors would’ve wanted.”

He cleared his throat, lifting his sunglasses to show his closed eyes, and opening them for the first time in the entire meeting. In response, Phantasia immediately shut her eyes, and gestured to one of her men. Her hat was returned, the brim covering the top part of her face.

”I want trust. I want you to acknowledge that we could’ve killed one another a dozen times over and we haven’t, because there’s some sick mutual respect here. You recognize that I’m putting business ventures that are rooted in a relationship that I’ve cultivated for over a decade. That, like you, I have deep personal ties with many involved in this unfortunate situation.”

He reached his right hand up slowly to pull the Velcro off one of his vest’s containers. From it, he pulled a lighter and a silver cigarette case. At the press of a button, the lid popped open, and he took a stick from within before slowly reaching it over the table, offering one to the Lady of the Cards. She took it, one of her men passing a holder for it to slide into. A quick light, and a draw of air.

”I want our solution to be dynamic, just like we are. Plans may change, and we’ll simply adapt. For instance; I’d like a guarantee that Britney Williams will be left out of this. Do I expect you to hold such a thing if things start to go south? No. I imagine desperation.”
With his free hand, he brought the smoke to his lips and flicked the lighter. A warm puff of smoke fell from his nostrils in ringlets.

Phantasia held the first light in her lungs for a moment before letting go, smoke curling around her. She seemed pensive for a moment, before she spoke.

“Trust. Understanding. A guarantee,” A light smile graced her features. “Edict, I acknowledge that both of us have no business being alive in this moment, yet here we are. And we are nothing without our Code, and I am nothing without my word.

“You have my guarantee. Britney Williams will not be harmed. I'll even go a step further and say, I'll leave the ones in the Sycamore that did the deed alone. They won't hear anything from me.

“If at any point I break that promise while the two of us have our trust intact…”


She flicked the ash of her cigarette, before her head tilted.

“You can kill me.”

Another long draw, and smoke swirled around her.

“My family's got old blood in the city. Some bad blood too. But, this Thing goes nowhere without ‘friends’. And I'd like to consider you a friend after tonight, Edict.”

That light smile was on her face again, turning a bit nostalgic as she quoted an old Italian blessing, adapting it a bit in acknowledgement that, perhaps, they could get along after all.

“Che il nostro rapporto sia come il buon vino. Gustoso, deciso e chiaro. E come il buon vino, possa migliorare ogni anno che passa. (May our relation be like good wine. Tasty, sharp and clear. And like good wine, may it improve with every passing year.)

Edict stood and bowed before the Boss of the House of Cards like any gentleman would.
Kill her, kill her, kill her, k-
”You’ve made me the happiest man in the Shimmer, Phantasia. We’ll pop the cork a couple decades from now, and I’m sure it’ll be extra sweet.”

Part 3: November 3rd, Early Morning
Edict’s Apartment
Anya Baksh by @FernStone

For Edict, sleeping wasn’t always a blissful thing. Tonight, he was more on edge than he usually was given the circumstances. As he made his way from the elevator into his apartment, he tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and took a deep breath as the weight of his equipment tugged on his frame. Phantasia Vorpal, Layla Hyacinthus, Void Heart, Alizée Altieri…
What the fuck, man…

Greyson found himself slowly slumping over the counter, sinking lower and lower until his still-armored back was pressed against the warm wood cabinets of his kitchen island. All he could think about was how it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. How he was supposed to come here, get his revenge, and be gone. Britney wasn’t supposed to mean a damn thing to him anymore.

She told him, after all. That she didn’t want to see him anymore. That she regretted him. No, no… She never said regret. Did she even say she wished anything was different? It was so hard to remember what was a projection and what had actually happened… How much of what he remembered was poisoned time, memories tainted by his own personal twisted feelings and love-loss between points A and B?
No, no… It’s not supposed to be like this! Why… Why do I care about them caring?

His watch beeped. It was three in the morning. He’d already set up with Natalie for early tomorrow, which meant he only had a few hours before he had to be up and refreshed again. That meant instant sleep, and that meant dosing himself.
Greyson had found people like himself all over the world: Burned out wizards whose main pleasure in life came from the fact that they were magical tricksters who could practically do whatever the fuck they wanted in normal society. Lux Addicts, never having to chase a high because it was guaranteed every time so long as your magic was sharp. Some got their rocks off on using their powers on others, some on themselves…

Greyson was both. He felt love in every spell, whether it was cast inward or outward. It was necessary for the Pink Lux to flow properly, that one truly love in the moment. Few bonds match the love and hate an addict has for their substance of choice. Only, he had to cut the second part out no matter what… Because while Greyson’s love for his Father, and by extension the Mafia, that caused him to Kindle, it was the love of his circumstances that he called upon to cast his spells every single time.

There was a little while where it was Her… It was that Kindling feeling, and then it was Her. Now look at me…

Fast moving images of Britney’s face flashed through Greyson’s vision, and his head slowly tilted on the spot. For Greyson, sleeping was never a blissful thing. It was an interr-

Darkness. An empty mind for the first time the entire time he’d been in St. Portwell. Tonight, there were no active doors blocking visitors. Just an exhausted, tired, sad and lonely little man. A perfect target.

A soft purple glow appeared in the corner of the darkness. It started off small, before it lengthened into a thin line. This line expanded out and the glow disappeared as a human shaped figure stepped out. A delicate eyebrow raised as Anya paused, looking around the blankness of the dream. She rolled her fountain pen between her fingers, corners of her lips quirking up into an amused smile. Oh, he must really be exhausted. To be dreaming without any true contents. He looked it. For a moment, Anya just silently observed, without announcing her presence. It was a shame there was nothing much for her to discover, but the lack of anything was information in itself.

”Well, this is rather boring,” Anya announced, Channeler gently flicking to the side. It glowed softly, a more pink tone, and the scene began to shift. An empty space, but one with lighting - a room, perhaps, not quite fully formed yet. She didn't particularly care for decoration in this case. She wasn't here to influence his dreams or to gain information. She was here to talk. With another gesture of her fountain pen a comfortable armchair appeared right beside her. She sat in it, one leg crossing over the other. She'd chosen to wear a long, dark skirt tonight, which swished gently as she sat and moved her legs before settling around them. Her dark brown lips pulled up into more of a smile.

”I’m glad you allowed me such an easy entrance today, Greyson. I've had quite the few days. I'm sure you have too… Trying to get everything under your control now that you're back in the city that tiring?”

When Anya’s voice first echoed through Greyson’s mind, he nearly jumped out of his skin. His body had been slumped in the same position as it was in life, only he wasn’t dressed. Boxers, a tee, socks… But his form still moved like it was awake, reaching for the gun that wasn’t there to shoulder it and aim at the intruder.
Only, he wasn’t awake and the intruder wasn’t the worst person to see in a dream. His heart beat thumped around the two of them like an echoing war drum, slowly calming as an interaction that was familiar to the both of them occurred.

There was a melding of familiar strains of Pink Lux, light easing in around them more and more until a common space existed. At once, it was like he wasn’t even asleep. There was no real transition or fading in and out; if one wasn’t used to such liminal spaces like dreamscapes, it would’ve been terribly jarring.
But Anya Baksh had been in Greyson’s head in a way that nobody else had quite gotten to. Not like he liked that, but it wasn’t the worst thing.

Like he’d always been dressed, he was standing by a liquor cabinet with a couple glasses, pouring Anya her favorite drink in the lounge they’d met at the first time they decided to do business with one another as adults. It was a good environment.
”As if I can get that pack of morons under control? Wishful thinking, Anya.”

His sleeves were rolled up, his collar open without a tie. He had suspenders, and creme colored slacks with no belt. Just extra buttons. He still didn’t have shoes: He was comfortable.
”Played it cool the other day, huh? I guess you don’t want people thinking we’re cliqued… Smart. Now, what’s so important you wake a guy up?”
Not that he was awake, he knew he was still resting. Even now, with the excessive brain activity warming that cavity in his skull, it was still better than just forcing himself to stay awake.

”Well, I do have to keep Sloane happy,” Anya laughed lightly. She leaned back, taking a sip of her drink. Carefully, slowly. Unfortunately while the person whose dream it was wouldn't be affected by any alcohol consumed, she would be. An unfortunate side effect of interacting with it.
”You have the same with Linqian, don't you? She's got quite the intense hatred for me, and I wouldn't want you to lose your little employee.”

She smiled. It was clear where she'd gotten the information from - not Greyson's dreams, but Linqian's. Hers had always been rather easy to get in and out of unnoticed, and were filled with information right now. As were many of the coven members following all the murders.
”I didn't realise you were enjoying the emptiness so much, I would've left you be. It's not so much a specific thing as it is everything. I figured we should touch base now that you're back in town.”

She swirled her glass, loose, white sleeves of her blouse shifting with it, before taking another sip. Perfect. It was a shame no drink tasted quite so good in the real world.
”I’ll start with some information on my end, before it gets out and reflects rather badly on me. Your concerns over it will be quite different from everyone else's, of course. Sloane, Jack, and I,” she held up a finger with each name, smiling, ”got in contact with the PRA after the raid. I'm sure you remember Sloane talking to their leader? I was the one who made the call in the end, diplomacy isn't exactly her… strength. Unfortunately, the woman had pawned us off into an utterly inane trainee agent. I don't think I've ever met anyone quite as awful as him.”

She sighed, waving a hand and grimacing.
”That’s unimportant. I met with him, and his ability to keep secrets was just as poor as his flirting. All it took was a little push. Did you know their previous Regional Commander was a member of Das Sonnerand, the Nazi's that ran rampant until just months ago? Quite the bad look for a government agency.” She smiled again, eyes creasing slightly as if it were genuine. ”I’m informing you so that you don't think I'm working with them. I'm taking from them, nothing more.”

Greyson nearly spat his rum out. It tasted so good in these fucking dreams, he reactively tried to save it even though it didn’t matter. Habitual.
”Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Anya!? No bullshit!?”
He squatted slightly, his hands on his knees as his torso bent. His face stared at Anya with a sarcastic expression.
”Y’know, I think the President owned slaves a few hundred years ago. Looks pretty bad for the literal leader of a government…”
He pulled back, waving his empty hand.
”Who gives a fuck? If you said current Regional Commander? I’d be excited here with you, but I can’t really muster a fuck about some old Kraut who liked what was happening during the war. Seemed to me like that Asian chick was the one in charge, so whatever paddle the Bureau of Equal Opportunity spanked their asses with, it fucking hit.”

There was no cigar, but then there was. The cherry red tip glowed as Greyson waved his hands around with a drink and a smoke. How habitual.
”You uh… You see everything about Linqian and I? You see me clip those wings?” he piggishly asked, expression changing slightly as if to suggest something as he leaned against the bar.
”Ain’t much different than paying an escort at this point…”

Anya rolled her eyes at him. A sign that she was relaxing too, in company she didn't have to pretend around quite so much. No need to be the perfect, good person Sloane seemed to think she was. Or pretend to actually care about anyone outside of herself.

”You can be a real dick sometimes, Greyson. Ah, most of the time, actually.” She snorted, lips turning from smile to sneer. Unfortunately I did see that. In rather graphic detail, almost impressive from someone with such little mental magical defences. Strong willed in another way I suppose. That is one escort you can keep paying if you wish to, since she was dreaming of it so vividly. I didn't expect to prefer the dreams where I have to watch my friend getting stabbed.”

Friend in the loosest sense of the word. Anya and Jinhai were just like Anya and Greyson, without the shared pink lux. They met in dreams, conspired, and understood each other's selfishness. Unfortunately, Jinhai had a much more irritating hang on.

There was more about the PRA she could bring up, of course, but she wasn't so inclined to right away when he'd been such a dick about it. Not that she disagreed, which was the most irritating thing. It was his turn.
”What exactly are you getting her to do? Information gathering? I don't particularly care for the means, but it's rather smart if it's working. Nobody suspects an idiot is trying to get something out of them. They don't trust us even without knowing about our collaboration.” She tilted her head, and smiled. It was clear was she was asking for - what did he know. Was there anything important to her.

”Oh, she works out alright.”
There was the most faint sound of a wet slapping noise in the far distance. Frankly, Greyson was a bit mad at Anya for barging in. Usually they had an agreement, scheduled something, but here she was just catching up like they were tea pals.
”You’ve only walked into a couple of those other dreams.”
The slapping turned into the soft, dull puncturing noises of a body being stabbed; the pained moans.

For the briefest instant, they weren’t in the Lounge. The moon was pink, Greyson was in a tuxedo, the burning Sycamore Tree was adorned with bodies hanging like icicles from its flaming branches.
And then it wasn’t. He smiled at Anya. Clearing his throat, the background noise faded and became some light music. Greyson sat down in a chair that hadn’t been there but now was.
”She is… My little helper. I give her a large quantity of money, and yes: She reports back to me on the things I can’t see because people won’t want me around. Rather than make an ass of myself in front of people who already don’t like me, I can just get her to do it, and people just fucking forgive her because she’s Jinhai’s sister.”

But he couldn’t hide that there was something else. That was the kind of agreement their abilities had. She would always have an inclination that he wasn’t being fully honest, but he had the benefit of being in charge of the show.
”I… Feel bad for her. All we think about is that she’s Jinhai’s sister, that’s the only person she really is. Part of me wants to help… So, I’ve been talking to her younger brother. We met him at the Halloween festival. I started to feed him a line, but… He… Reminds me of Kali. Of the old Kali, before the Feds. Goofy weird kid, but he’s got a good heart.”

Greyson cleared his throat again.
”He’s magic. Kindled recently. You should try slipping in there, see if you can. Kid’s got a fortress on him: Like Jinhai. Except it’s all kindness. He’s got Light powers, so it only makes sense… It… Makes me want to forget the past, Anya.”

”Sometimes, I regret teaching you lucid dreaming. Sometimes.”
There was another eye roll at the quiet, background sounds - neither pleasant, but neither actually bothered Anya. She'd quite literally seen it all. As much as she would rather not, she wasn't a prude like her only friend… towards both sex and murder. Of course, the brief flash of coven members' dead bodies hanging from a Sycamore was the most uncomfortable. Not because she cared for their deaths, but rather the possibility she might end up among them.

There was always the chance.

”You know how it works, Greyson, I would need to meet him before I can try to get in. Perhaps at Jinhai’s funeral I'll have the opportunity. It appears I'll be invited, surprisingly.” In part thanks to Sloane paying for the majority of it, she imagined. She didn’t really understand why Greyson felt bad for Linqian - after all, she’d dug the grave she was now in. Anya had very little sympathy there. But she never had, even for people in situations they didn’t deserve. But her younger brother being kindled was interesting to know. Last she'd talked to Jinhai before his death he hadn't been.
”Jinhai spoke about him occasionally, when I used to visit his dreams. A smart child, supposedly, but those two sheltered him too much. It was obvious from how Jinhai spoke about him. But, quite frankly, I’m glad that you’re considering forgetting the past. Glad, but surprised. I didn’t think all it would take is a teenager that actually has hope. ”

Anya shrugged, legs uncrossing as she leaned forward. A small table appeared in front of her and pictures started to form. Portraits of the coven members.
”Not because I’m against killing them. You know where I stand on that. But it is rather limiting to fixate on revenge for something that happened so long ago, to so many of us. Perhaps the accusations towards you were harsher, but using any percentage of your mind thinking about it is a waste. They may be a ‘pack of morons’ as you said earlier, but I disagree that it’s not possible to control them. Take Linqian, for example. One of the hottest tempers, yet she’s under your control in a way, right? They’re morons, but they’re useful morons.”

She tapped one of the photos - Sloane’s.
”Sloane, too. Not well liked, stubborn and seems difficult to even make a suggestion to. But to her, I’m perfect. She’s not far off, aside from her strange belief that I truly care for the coven. I tell her we have to do something for everyone’s good, she’ll do it.”
Anya smiled, looking up at Greyson with a warmer expression in her eyes than she would normally ever have. Perhaps she was growing a little too caring towards Sloane. Not something she was particularly happy about, but not something she could control. Having a single friend wasn’t the end of the world. She still had no qualms talking about her like this.
”What I’m saying is that killing them all is a waste. They can be controlled, and they can be useful - even if that use is protection against our current killer.”

Greyson took in what Anya was saying through a gentle haze of self pity. It wasn’t really Linqian he was worried about, though it was nice to be able to reconnect in a strange way. Moreso, it was Britney knocking around in his head. But he knew enough not to share everything even if she’d know he wasn’t being honest. What’d it matter, after all? They knew the agreement.
So, instead of saying anything, Anya would easily draw up the feelings. The same dream he usually had when his guard was down; Britney Williams in some skimpy sheer nightgown. Only, this time she was dressed. She wasn’t standing next to him with a plate and a drink. She was over him, her chin leaning on the top of his head from behind and her arms wrapped around him..

He held her hand. They wore rings.

”It doesn’t take much to make a man happy. Cash, and a person he can really trust.”
He squeezed Britney’s hand, and she disappeared in a cloud of pink smoke. Greyson took a deep breath. The bloody tree reverberated back into view, then glitched between itself and something else. A quiet place, the Sycamore Tree decorated with spheres of color representative of the different colors of Lux.

”I’m workin’ for Dollhouse. To do… Something to the Coven. I’m not gonna do it: I’m gonna stop them.” he had a look of conviction.
”But they want the Tree. It’s a Font, right? There’s power in the roots. Who better to use it than the people who put it away in the first place, I figure… We can cut something out once it’s all over, right? Do it properly this time?”

It was difficult for Anya to keep the disdain from her expression when Britney appeared, so disgustingly romantic with the rings, but she managed to retain a calm smile. Put back up the mask of politeness for a moment. It wasn't that she disliked Britney. Of course not. It was the romance, the love, the want to tie himself down to one person. Men were simple, she supposed.

”It seems that everyone is after the Tree.”
Anya pursed her lips. If the Dollhouse, who she'd heard of and knew very little about- but enough to know they were dangerous- wanted the Tree, and the PRA did to… who else would?
”The PRA are also looking for the Tree too. They say it's out of concern, but I don't believe that. Whoever finds it will use it. I agree that we should be the ones to find and use it. Do what we should have in the first place, before everything devolved to petty fights under poor leadership.”

She let out a soft sigh, gaze trailing to the Sycamore Tree. It was a nice thought. If they could control the coven, that was. There were too many that wouldn't be able to handle the power.
”I already discussed looking for the tree with Jack and Sloane. Sloane was for it, Jack was against it, for now. Of course… if Sloane finds it first, she'll want to be in control. Something I can handle, but a possible issue.” She sighed again. ”Working with the Dollhouse, but subtly against them, is smart. Far smarter than not working with them. How much do they know about the Tree? The PRA know pitifully little.”

”He doesn’t know enough…”
Greyson was seventeen again, cross-legged beneath the Sycamore Tree. Anya could recognize the flashes of the event immediately: The black sky, the rushing wind, the chanting. The Ritual of Clean Slates; the day after they’d sealed the Stygian Snake, there was a ritual that had to take place.
The leadership agreed that knowing where they buried the beast was bad all around. Nobody needed to have that kind of power…

It was the only time Greyson had been allowed in everyone’s heads. He had to scrub everything, after all. The last thing he was ever useful for. But he held a secret: That he hadn’t finished. Did anyone have their memories? No, but he still hadn’t completely cleared the memories for the ritual to be completed.
The actual tree and its surroundings were blurry, like they weren’t real, so one couldn’t gleam a location if they happened to probe his mind.
”If Luis knew everything, I’d already be dead.”

He showed Anya the last time he saw Luis in person, a trip to Miami before he’d come here to St. Portwell. And then he showed her that man killing him a thousand different ways in the blink of an eye.
”The memories would wake up. But, I can reverse it. When the time is right… When our enemies are gone.”

His last image showed Greyson in a suit at a table, surrounded by other strange faces. Anya was shifted into a position as if she were some sort of board member.
”Let’s take Dollhouse for ourselves, Anya. We’ll cut some others in. Useful people, like Linqian and Sloane. Loyal idiots. And then when the time comes, we’ll open the door again. And we’ll make things better for ourselves, and by proxy, them.”

The dream shifting outwith of her control so rapidly was something Anya disliked, but had to accept when it came to visiting Greyson's dreams. The risk with any pink lux, but especially one she'd passed on a fraction of her dream manipulation knowledge to. But being shifted to a specific position… she couldn't hold back her frown at that.
”Yes, let's. Having control of the Dollhouse will allow us control of the magical world beyond it. It will be difficult to convince Sloane, with her strong morals, but if it's for the protection of everyone else… That’s a future concern. There are a few more that could be useful, but I can't say I care for any of them.” Ah. Did she just admit to caring for Sloane? A bit of a slip up. No matter.

”As for the memories… I'm not surprised you left a way to reverse it. Sealing the Stygian Snake in a tree was never going to work as a permanent solution. Not as it is now, without protection.”
She waved a hand, fountain pen glowing as the image of a woman appeared. Average height, average appearance, Asian with tired eyes and dark hair tied in a bun.
”There’s a risk when it comes to the memories. This is Lihn Phan, a therapist in the city. Pink lux too. She has a spell that allows her to see and share memories someone has forgotten. There's a chance she could access the memory of where the Tree is from another coven member, which would be… a problem with who she sees. Adora for one. I met with her, and have entered her dreams, but unfortunately I haven't been able to figure out the extent of her pink lux. Perhaps something you would have an easier time of.”

Anya held up her hands with a genuine smile.
”Easier to nip any problems in the bud, right?”

Greyson considered what Anya was talking about, and as he did so, the room they were in flashed with a hundred mirrored screens, each one popping up a great big green thumbs up.
”I’ll send Henri. It’ll be a good first assignment for him, since I have the memories. Letting her get near me would be problematic if she found some way to get into my little box…”
Which was almost always present somewhere in Greyson’s Warm Little Center. He often wondered why he called it that, on account of how it never seemed to make anyone but him feel warm…
”I think people misjudge me.-” he said before his mind could betray him to her. ”-I really do have my loved ones’ best interests at heart. Crudeness aside; I was never taught better. You keep someone in the dark until the problem isn’t a problem, and then you get them a gold watch to celebrate. Until then, you keep your mouth shut, you handle your business, and you fuckin’... I don’t know…”

He cleared his throat. Another admission.
”But it’s the year of our Lord ς̷̢̥̙̤̌̈́̆̈́̌͜0̷̨̞̪͖̏͒̑̎͘͜ς̴̧̠͉̘̘̆͑̏̑̚μ̶̱͍̯͚̜͌͑̓͠͝, and nowadays if we plan on actually… Working with someone, you’ve gotta communicate. So here-”
The closest screens moved forward, opening up a group of images. They were faces. One was bigger than the other. He was obviously familiar, the chiseled features supported a lion’s mane of black hair.

”We know Leon. You all don’t know his spooky family.-”
The monitors shifted, bringing up a very candid image of the Temple’s main family and heirarchy.
”-The Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals. A cult who believes the end of the world is the start of the next, and they want to make it happen right here in good ol’ St. Portwell. Typical shit. Ignore this.-”

The main one opened a video of a strange ritual. A plate of food on an altar, Lynette Richoux in dark robes. An oath taken.
”-We’re all technically members; I just took advantage of it for business. Now I have an in, and they’re the ones responsible for Void Heart’s recent sealing.”
He handed over Layla’s memories to Anya on a silver platter in the form of a dossier file that slid across the table. Touching it, Anya would instantly feel the flush of information first hand from those moments, as well as the situation between The Temple, The House of Cards, and how Sycamore factored in.

”I meet with Dollhouse later this morning to let them know the situation and see how they want to handle it. Frankly, House of Cards is the more dangerous group in my estimation. More likely to do something unhinged for the sake of it. After that, I’ll… Probably head to that thing at Kari’s house. I’ve been staying with Brit, and she mentioned it, but since I had business earlier I had to step out.”
He had another drink in his hand instantly, and another for Anya.
”Do we have a deal for now?”

It was a lot of information to process, but Anya did so easily. She already knew about all the factions at play in the city, but not quite to this degree. She'd seen whispers of the Temple in Leon's dreams without realising it was his family. She didn't know they were all members either. The House of Cards was one she'd briefly looked into through Luna's dreams and then ignored as unimportant. Frankly, she still didn't care all that much, as they were unlikely to be a danger to her.

But working with Greyson was more beneficial than not. The information that came from Layla's dossier was interesting enough to make Anya smile. Ah, poor Layla. What a tragedy - but so idiotic to go to a group like the House of Cards to solve what was barely a problem. She was glad now Sloane hadn't been invited to the sealing.
”First, in the interest of 'communication', I'll briefly tell you my connections. Ah, well, connection, the PRA isn't of us. I'm working with Ezra Vanburen. I'm sure he needs no explanation - interestingly enough he's paranormal in some form. He's looking for help manipulating some of his peers, and in return, well… We'll see,” she smiled, and gestured with her free hand. ”I’ll be at Kari's house, to make sure things run as smoothly as possible.”

She smiled, and raised her glass towards him.
”While I'm not particularly concerned for my own wellbeing, I do agree that the House of Cards isn't a problem we want to leave unchecked. Best to deal with them first. I'll do what I can on my end through their member's dreams. So yes, we have a deal, for now.”

”Did you say Ezra Vanburen?”
Greyson’s face grew wide and terrible. The monitor shuddered for a moment, and an interesting image spat out. Another giant man, and another familiar face.
”Recognize her? Petty Patty the Peener Eater?-”
It zoomed in tight on the face of Trisha Vanburen of the Sycamore Tree Coven. Then up to the other man. He looked so familiar and so different, but then one of the other monitors blinked.
”-Shacked up with Leon’s younger brother Casey. Saw ‘em on the cams of one of the bars Halloween night, then saw them myself Yesterday while they were out buying food. Funny how small St. Portwell is…” he grinned.

”Of course I recognise her, it's impossible to forget someone so horrible,” Anya raised an eyebrow at the images. How curious. She was surprised that Patricia was still haunting St Portwell… well, she was dependent on her family's money after all.
”I’m sure it won't last long. Do you remember how many relationships she had the short time the coven was around? Five or six, perhaps. There was even that boy who died when with her, what was his name? It doesn't matter. I'm surprised Leon is tolerating it. Well, it. is funny how these people gravitate to each other.”

Her lips twisted into an almost smug smile.
”Ezra certainly didn't know that she had magic. It was enough of a shock to wake him up. But this is even more interesting… Small town indeed.”
She was sure Ezra would be delighted to find out his worst sibling was also hooking up with a member of what was practically a cult.

There was a gentle vibration that wobbled the entire world. Greyson looked a bit upset.
”You know, this happens every time… It's six-thirty, and I’ve gotta get up. I’ll see you soon, eh?”

But he was already awake, staring at the fridge. The soft morning light was just pushing through the large windows that surrounded the penthouse. His mouth was dry, and he had a sick feeling in his stomach. Barbaric hunger, it growled and bit at him, and Edict slowly stood to face himself again.
The shiny metal surface showed his sunken eyes lacking in any kind of sleep.

You’re gonna die if you don’t make up your mind.

Part 4: November 3rd, Morning
Downtown St. Portwell, Christiansands
Guest Starring @Punished GN

The boulevard kissed by the grace of Christiansands was bathed in the late Autumn’s cool sunlight. As Edict crossed the street from his parking space, he tugged his long coat tight to his chest, his shoulders rotating in their sockets as he stretched his muscles. The night prior had been spent making another temporary bubble of breathing room available for Edict and his few allies within the Sycamore Tree Coven, and now he was approaching the most dangerous aspect of his job up until now.
Dollhouse didn’t play. Luis certainly didn’t want to hear that Edict had a problem he couldn’t avoid, but it also wasn’t necessarily Edict’s fault. But he knew the score; you didn’t walk into a situation without a plan. And the plan, for the moment, was to get Dollhouse to shift focus.

With House of Cards playing Phantasia Vorpal’s game, the chances were only going to get higher that they’d become a problem for the magical syndicate. They were after Sycamore, but The Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals was a big cash organization with the capability of producing and reproducing materials barely found in their dimension. Their account was Edict’s responsibility, and while he didn’t think that they’d just roll over and let the House have their way with Andrade, that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to get messy regardless.

So, he wanted to present a sit-down. That was always the first way he’d been taught to handle conflict; at the tip of the tongue, not the sword. Violence was the last way out, unless it was the first way out in which case it couldn’t be avoided… Which tended to happen fairly often. Edict found himself considering a line of thinking that had escaped him since his days in the old Coven.
I really am a softy. So sensitive, so deep, so troubled…
The new leaf thing was really going great. He was a whole twelve hours without using his powers, and longer if he was allowed to use his powers but only for good. His fingers twitched as he pulled at the side door to Christiansands and entered into the hall adjacent to the main club.

Edict pulled his gloves and hat off, thinking about the first time he’d been to this place. It was usually so lively, but this early in the day there weren’t even cleaners. It wasn’t a bar; it didn’t have a kitchen or anything to serve food out of, so the only place for him to go was probably the VIP lounge.
They’d seemed receptive to having the meeting, getting back to him only a few minutes after his meeting with House of Cards concluded the previous evening. He doubted Luis was in town, and wondered who exactly would take the man’s place for such a thing.

His lips pursed together, and he gently whistled an old tune as his legs began to saunter toward the back where the stairs were to go up toward the VIP. It was around a slight corner, and he casually leaned with his step to see if there was a body blocking the entry way, or if he’d just be able to go up.




“... Edict!” Luis said cheerfully, he and Natalie were sitting on the sofa across the room. Luis had his arm across the back… And behind them, standing with her arms behind her back was a tall, mysterious, African-American lady. “Come in, come in! We’ve been expecting you…”

Without his glasses, Luis would be able to see Edict’s surprise.
"Woah, holy shit! Luis, I didn’t think they made coats thick enough to keep you warm in weather like this…”
He slowly approached the sofa and let his torso bend, arm holding the hat wrapping at his gut as he bowed.
"Good to see you again as well, Natalie…”

It wasn’t exactly a rule so much as a rule of thumb, that the person who was menacing around in the background usually ended up being a guard. In those cases, they weren’t addressed, no matter how badly Edict wanted to make a fool out of himself trying to hit her switches.
"Thank you for meeting on such short notice… I didn’t think you were in town, but clearly I was mistaken. Gladly, as well. There’s a dispute brewing, and I was hoping to present what I’ve done, what I’m doing, and what I’d like to do about it.”

It had to be a plan, after all. You didn’t visit people like this without at least pretending you have a plan.

“... No drinks first?” Natalie took a sip of her whiskey, then laughed.

“Well, let’s get right into business then,” Luis said.”I’m certain you are itching to tell us all about it.”

“Where is Heinrich?” Natalie asked.

“He’s around,” Luis said. “You know he’s shy.”

“... Or he scares the piss out of everyone,” Natalie said.

"Oh, I won’t oppose a drink! I figured I’d respect your time, but if nobody here is short, I’ve got eyes on what Sycamore’s up to right now. Eyes I’d trust. May I sit?” Edict asked.

“... You’re our guest,” Luis said. “Think we’ll make you stand?”

Edict shrugged his shoulders.
"Something I learned in your part of the world-” he started, popping the buttons on his coat and pulling it away before he sat down. "-is that the surface of the water doesn’t always tell you how dangerous the current below is. I prefer askin’.”

He pulled his cigarette case out and plucked a smoke from within. His lighter flicked into the relative silence of the club, and he took a puff to blow away the tension.
"I’ll tell you, the Festival this year? What a bust… Practically gutted, y’know I remember being a little kid and going, and man, the stink bombs and firecrackers, you’d think it was a warzone. Now? It’s fuckin’ Kiddie Land if you don’t think about the hundred or so wizards in the crowd.”

“Surprised you went!” Luis laughed.

“Yeah, that doesn't seem like your scene at all, but Shayton went!” Natalie laughed. “Ran into that..: weird kid. He slipped right by us again, but we’ll find him.”

"Been goin’ since I was a kid. Good fun for the whole Family, Uncle and cousins and siblings, everyone goes. I just happened to make plans with my dear old friends. Bunch’a putz’s.”
He had no problem conjuring his recently swayed feelings. He still wasn’t sure he even felt any different than he had before.

"Shayton… Don’t ring a bell? Oh, shit, the old Grando with the locks? I did see that kid, not for real long though, what’s goin’ on with that?” Edict asked with a casual tone.
In truth, he hadn’t even remembered the kid until now with Luis mentioning him.

“... Well,” Natalie shrugged. “During Judas’ last stand, the kid nabbed him before the Feds could. Started asking him a bunch of questions about your favorite serial killer.”

“Judas was about to rat us out.” Luis leaned back and put his hands together. “Shayton silenced him.”

"What the fuck is he, some kind of Ab? There’s no way he’s an Adept unless he’s some serious Green fucker with a kiddy fetish…”
Edict stared off into the smoke of his cigarette thinking about that creepy face.
"Ah, never mind, that’s my job to figure out, right?” Edict laughed, holding his cigarette case out across the couch.
"Anyone care for one? Naturally processed, these expire y’know? Our Op down in Louisiana…”

“Fuck yeah, the fancy shit!” Natalie said, as she took one. Luis silently took one himself, and they both lit theirs with their respective lighters.

“But, Shayton thinks the kid is a shapeshifter… Adept, Adjoined, Agent…” Luis shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, we’ll find that out.”

He took a puff, then said, “Next time you see that kid, let me know. We’ll send some men to grab him…”

“Hell! Maybe we’ll send Shaquita!” Natalie laughed, gesturing towards their silent bodyguard.

Edict grinned.
"You can send Shaquita my way anytime you’d like.”
A thick rolling exhale trickled back into Edict’s nose, a french inhale accompanying a wicked grin as his eyes trailed up to the Bodyguard.
"But I will. Hell, he could be with the Sycamore right now. Not that it’d be a great time to move, between Drake Blackmore, Stormy Carson, could be anyone over there willing to throw wrenches…”

Edict had eased back into the couch he was on, eyes doing their best to not wander too far for fear of giving any lingering nerves away.

Shaquita shook her head as Natalie laughed.

“I’m very acquainted with those two,” She finally spoke. “I can take them.”

“But timing is everything,” Luis said. “And we’ll have the perfect opportunity to grab him soon enough. But, what did you want to tell us, Edict?”

“Yeah, I’m shaking with anticipation here!” Natalie laughed.

He hadn’t gotten that drink…
"Right, of course. I’ll give it to you straight: House of Cards is making an issue. Usually, we’d keep things in the Family, you see, since it should supersede the sorts of disagreement we’re having. I wouldn’t come to you if it didn’t cross over into our life.”
Edict flicked his ashes into the nearby tray, the crystal perfectly shined and polished; and it’d have to be done again before opening.
”Alizee Alitere. Dead! Her Apparition pal, Void Heart? Apparently, some time ago, they saved Phantasia Vorpal from the fire that consumed the old House of Cards… Now, the thing’s been sealed! She’s looking for revenge: Wouldn’t be such a problem were it not for the people involved.”

Taking another drag, Edict leaned forward trying to recall everything.
”Seems like Alizee was wrapped up with the Temple. Y’know, the Temple of… Pfff, whatever. The Cult I’ve been siphoning material from for you. Those Orange-Enchanted Arms and shit? It’s their problem, which makes it my money’s problem. The way I figure, that makes it your problem as well, considering some of the more expensive products that come out of there. What was that last shipment of Niatanium worth?”

He smirked, waving his hand.
”Don’t answer that. I already know, and I’m willing to bet it’s more than you want to lose. The long and skinny of it: Their man inside, the chef Andrade Salamente, is their chief Sealer. Blue and Black Lux user, he’s got this knife that they’re obsessed with. I’m betting because it’s what their man Void Heart is trapped in. It’s in my estimation that Phantasia Vorpal’s willing to go to war over this. Not just with the North-West families, but with Sycamore, with The Temple… I’ve got a few ideas, but I didn’t think it’d be right to act without coming to see you first.”

“Alizee Alteri…” Luis trailed off, “Shame what happened to her. If we had known that Sycamore suspected Judas, then we could have nipped that in the bud, but it is what it is.” Luis finished that statement with a shrug.

“Perhaps we can talk to them and see if we can mediate peace before this gets out of hand.” Luis asked.

“... Or we can send Shaquita to air that ratty casino out!” Natalie said.

”It’s kind of amazing how quickly everyone threw their hat in for Judas as Father Wolf.”
Edict was ready to try something that he figured wouldn’t work, but it was subtle enough.
”If only they really knew, huh?”

The words hung in the quiet air. Edict raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“... Desperation is a bitch,” Shaquita spoke up from behind them. “Isn’t it?”?”

Edict’s eyebrows raised even higher.
”Desperate is pulling a gun out in the hopes that you’ll hold me.” he replied, laughing.
”Anyway-” he started again, leaning back. ”- I’ve got some plans about how to handle the situation, unless you wanted to try and get Vorpal’s crazy ass to back off of course.”

“We are going to always negotiate first…” Luis said, “But do tell, I am curious.”

He cleared his throat.
”Well… First thought was just letting them turn on Sycamore. Vorpal, and the little hoe-stess that Void Heart decided to suckle up to; Layla Hycicanthus or whatever, they were both real hard for Auri Auclair, Jack Offhorn or Hawthorne, whatever… But I guess my Britney was involved, so I had to do some adjusting already. Now I’ve got them solely locked on the Temple, so I was hoping that since we’re all involved and tangled up with one another, we’d just do a sit-down between Lynette and Phantasia. But they’re both crazy enough that something bad could happen, and I don’t mean bad for either of them.”

He bit his lip.
”So my gambit would be to bring someone in… Word on the street is that Salamente is looking for an apprentice: Someone to pass down the ol’ spellbook to in case anything were to happen to him. And now, after the House attacked him, they’re accelerating the process. I have a candidate, and they’d simply unseal the Void Heart and let him run home to Vorpal. Deal with those consequences later.”

“... And if that doesn't work?” Luis asked.

”I think we’d have bigger problems than we have right now if it didn’t work. I didn’t say they were foolproof plans, just… Plans, y’know? ‘S why I’m here, feel?”
Which was true. Knowing the Temple, they’d be willing to part with their prize for the right price. It was what happened after that really worried Edict. Chances were, Void Heart wasn’t just going to play nice with Sycamore, even if things somehow smoothed over between the House and Temple.

That meant there wasn’t a scenario where Britney was off the hook. That was scary.

”The alternative would be to steal the knife for ourselves, and release Void Heart and whoever else we can when the time’s right. I’m certain he’s not the only monster locked up in that knife…”

Luis was silent… obviously thinking.

“My issue with both of your plans is that the Void Heart will escape,” Luis began. “The issue… The issue… The Void Heart - and whatever host he chooses - is unpredictable. The incident that Veni Vedi Veni is proof of that.”

He shook his head. “You see Edict, we have a plan for… quelling the chaos St. Portwell faces. And the issue is that the Void Heart is a walkin-”

“... Floating,” Shaquita noted.

“... A floating, chaotic element, and chaotic elements like him have no place in my model for the city,” Luis explained, “If he runs back to Sycamore, it’s only a matter of time before he begins causing trouble. Like I said before, if we had knowledge beforehand we could have avoided this situation entirely!”

Edict cleared his throat, wondering if it was worth making a stink over.
”You saying I didn’t do my job Luis? I beg forgiveness for not predicting that the unpredictable would happen. Frankly, I was hoping to get everything under control before word got back to you… But the writing is on the walls, you’d have seen it soon enough. This is my money we’re talking about. Fuck the city, you can have it. I just want the tree cut down, and to ride off into the sunset having done my part.”

Not exactly…

”But what I’m hearing is that you’re interested in keeping the floating nutsack in his prison? I had also thought about forcing him directly into a new target under our control… Some blind I’ve had the chance to work on first; get them hooked so Void’s influence is secondary to their addiction…”

“What we need is the Floating Testicle to be a non-issue,” Luis calmly answered. “He made it dead clear that he, and his host, will not behave. Not just that, if he makes the stupid decision to go back to Sycamore a third time…” He sighed, and shook his head.

“... In other words, the thing is problematic.” Luis finished.

“Might I intrude?” Shaquita asked.

“You may,” Luis said.

You don’t want the House of Cards to be a problem,” Shaquita said to Edict.

”There’s only a few things I’d want more.” Edict nodded.

“And you don’t want the Void Heart to be a problem,” Shaquita said to Luis.

“That is correct.”

“His idea of releasing the Void Heart to his last - or even a new host - is not a bad idea,” Shaquita began, “But, there’s nothing saying we can’t just teleport the Void Heart and his host to a different dimension. They already made it dead clear that, despite seemingly caring so much about the Void Heart, they pretty much let him go unmonitored. Or, I know we don’t mess with the Feds, siccing the PRA on them and letting the House of Cards duke it out with them.”

She sighed, “That way, the Void Heart and the House of Cards are simply someone else’s problem.”

Edict’s face scrunched slightly as he thought about the ramifications of the PRA getting involved. He, frankly, would’ve rather gone back to Seattle to get permission from the Bosses to have Vorpal killed than he would’ve had the Feds poking into Mafia business.
”That last bit’s great until you’re the one whose organization is under the looking-glass. Feds in La Cosa Nostra’s business ain’t great: I say if they don’t cooperate? They get the portal treatment. Shunt’em all into whatever hellscape we can, and keep makin’ money with the Temple until they get the same end.”

And what end do you get?

He took a deep breath and thought for another second about what was coming next.
”Do we have any kind of leverage here? Something concrete we can lean on either side over?” Edict asked after a few more moments’ thought.

“None at the moment other than that girl Layla…” Luis trailed off for a moment. “Right now, using her is simply not an option.”

“It doesn’t have to be the PRA, but the point is that we just make The Void Heart someone else’s problem,” Shaquita said. “I would recommend putting them in the Pit, a monster like him would thrive there.”

”Then it should be the host he wants, no? Give him back Layla: I’ve already dosed her several times. By the time we get the two of them back together, she’ll be willing to listen to whatever it is I say. I tell her that you guys are going to help her, and hey the Teleportation goes wrong! Bye bye Voidheart, sorry Phantasia these things happen.”
Edict shrugged his shoulders in his assertion.
”Then we make it the Pit’s problem, she can’t be out taking revenge on people when she’s busy trying to open a hole to get back to her precious purple testicle.”

“Trust me,” Shaquita said, tilting her head downwards. “She’ll want to stay there. It’s a home for people like her, after all.” She cracked a wry grin.

“Sounds solid… as a Plan B,” Luis began. “Before we take any option, we’re going to meet with The House of Cards’ leadership and see if there is any way to peacefully resolve this. We know that’s not going to be possible, but Dollhouse doesn’t jump to the nuclear option unless strictly necessary….”

He glanced at Natalie, then Shaquita, then Edict, “However, we will already have Plan B ready by the time of the meeting so we can put it into action when the Vorpals inevitably don’t play ball.”

”Right… So, do you want me there? Or am I free to return my focus to the Sycamore Tree?”
As in, find a better way to cover their asses. Edict may've been feeling a change of heart lately, but that didn't stop those goons from being the single most disorganized pack of morons one could find.

The streets of St. Portwell would be safer once they all dispersed.

“Go back to Sycamore,” Luis waved his hand. “We need eyes on them especially…”

He put his fingertips together, “They are a very unpredictable lot, to say the least…”

”Yeah, the absolute least, I’d say…”
He looked between Luis and the other two women with some amount of concern, knowing for certain

that the pack of untrained cats that was the Sycamore Tree Coven would stop at nothing to put themselves further into harm’s way.
”Now, as far as this little… List… You gave me?”
He pulled the note out with the names of people he was supposed to watch.
”It’s a fuckin’ crapshoot. I’m hearing the names, trying to move people toward them to get lookin’, but I can’t read minds like it’s easy. People know when I mess with them. Anything to assist with that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Luis said, “You’re supposed to keep eyes on Sycamore first and foremost. If you happen to pass by them, then keep your eyes on them…”

Edict nodded, scrunching his face. Luis always played with his hand close to his chest. Shrugging his shoulders, he nodded along with Luis’ instructions.
”Well… Alright! I’ve said my piece then, that’s the situation. Currently, if my informant is correct, there’s a larger gathering of them at the residence of a former member. A deceased former member… She was pretty important back in the day, Kari Wilson? Definitely an HVT if she wasn’t six feet under. But I guess they’re tossing her property for any notes or hints they can find.” he offered the information up freely, figuring nothing was going to come of it now.

”I can get eyes on direct, or keep working my angles otherwise. Your call if you want me to rush over there or not, but I’m certain I’ll be able to get them copied if they find them. Regardless of being there or not.”

Shaquita raised an eyebrow the instant he named Kari.

“We would have loved her in Dollhouse,” Luis said before he shrugged. “But, alas.”

“Who’s this informant?” Natalie asked. “Is it our newest employee?” She smiled.

Edict’s eyes narrowed. Newest employee?
”Linqian Han?” Edict asked with a slightly concerned voice.

“No,” Natalie said, “… Tayla Choi.”

There was the echo of an interaction still ringing in Edict’s head. A burning bar, a strung out Severed blind.
”Fat lot of good she’ll do being Severed. When did this happen?”

“The same night you had fun times with the Feds,” Natalie laughed.

“We gave her an artifact we acquired,” Luis said. “That Melody, allows her to convert thoughts into sound.”

Edict’s face turned from confusion to concern almost instantly.
”If that’s the case, I’d appreciate a meeting with her. Because I definitely said something to her the other night without considering that she was working with you. If we have to work together, it’ll be pivotal that the situation gets diffused. I understand that it may be outside of your desired involvement, but… It’d be a favor, frankly, for me and my big mouth.”

“We’ll arrange something,” Luis said. “Otherwise, she has no place in Dollhouse.”

”Then it’s settled.”
Edict stood up, grabbing his coat and starting to swing it back over his shoulders.
”The thing I care about most is the House of Cards. It puts this in jeopardy, and it puts La Cosa Nostra in jeopardy: I’ve done a lot of hard work to prevent their prying, Blind eyes from trying to learn about business that isn’t theirs. I look forward to hearing about the results… Anything else you think I can take care of in your stead?”

Luis grinned.

“… We have everything under control,” Luis took a puff. “Trust us.”

Edict grinned, nodding his head.
”Luis… This is me we’re talking about. Of course you’ve got my trust.”
He wondered absolutely nothing. Edict’s head was empty of errant thought, cleared and focused. If Tayla Choi had That Melody, then for as long as Edict was going to be around the Sycamore Tree Coven, he’d never have another stray feeling or emotion or image cross his mind. It was too dangerous for something like that to be used on him. She didn’t need to dig deep to broadcast a whole lot of compromising shit if he wasn’t paying attention.

Obfuscate. Keep things hidden behind the smokey glass…

But he wasn’t going to play with Tayla Choi…
Unless?
No… Out of respect for Luis’ plan, he’d not intentionally make her. He’d let her poke and prod, he could take it.

”Natalie, Shaquita… Pleasure seeing you both. Luis? You’re The Man, man. Oh, and-”
As Edict backed off, he put his finger up to his temple.
”-I’m workin’ on a spell reversal. I may’ve gotten rid of the keys that day, but I’ll pick the lock. We’ll find that fuckin’ tree.”

“Yes…” Luis grinned. “We will.”

Part 5: November 3rd, Morning
The Road to Kari’s Place

Edict was driving casually, as if there wasn’t a thing more important in the world. He hadn’t gotten any text messages, only sent a couple: One to Linqian, purely informative that he’d be there soon. The other to Britney, telling her he had some good news, and redundantly that he’d be arriving shortly. The only reason he knew where they’d be in the first place is because he got the address from Britney the day before, before his nighttime meeting, but he didn’t exactly like the locale.

It was in one of the reclaimed areas, quiet and desolate as a part of the forests around St. Portwell did their best to swallow up the neighborhood. If something was gonna go wrong, he figured it’d be out there. But, again, thankfully no texts had come back through. He didn’t think anything of it until his phone lost connection: No good towers. Funny how it happened fifteen minutes outside the main residential hub of a main city, but those were the breaks.

He stuffed the gas pedal, and Smokey’s engine rumbled with power as it hurdled down the winding back road into the sticks. He was trying real hard not to extend a feeler out toward the direction he was driving.
No magic… Not on them. Even if they’re in trouble, they’ll stop to bitch at you for it. They’ll spit in your face before they accept you’ve helped them. It’s not for them. It's for you.

Not that it mattered. Right around the time he was turning onto the road he wrote down, there were some rumbles that threw the car off its arcing trajectory and caused Edict to swerve. It slowed him down enough to take a look for what had done it. Panic was already set in, feeling rumbles like that close to the spot. Like there was already a fight or something.

Gentle raindrops were hitting his windshield.

A fleshy monstrosity towered over the nearby trees.

There was a dot in the sky, and it was bright purple.

It wasn’t looking good. Edict ripped the e-brake of the car and popped the trunk from the inside. He was looking for quite a few things, plenty of which he re-packed before leaving the apartment that morning. His vest, not that it mattered much save for the grenades, and his Thompson which he also figured wouldn’t get a great deal of use.
He also grabbed a brick, and after he had everything he needed, he slipped a pair of black leather gloves over his hands and threw his longcoat back on over his body armor. The gun’s sling was tight with so much bulk, but he could still get it into position easily enough.

Catching one person off guard will be enough.

He hit the front seat again after smashing the trunk shut, and the vehicle skittered to a stop another hundred feet down the road. As he made his approach, Edict could see the massive ice barrier blocking off the driveway, giving him ample amount of time to set up.
The assumption was that this barrier was magical, but Edict found he had a decent amount of distance between the start of the driveway and where the ice actually started. He opened the hood of the car, pulling the four grenades that were dangling from his vest, pulling the pins, and setting them to rest on precarious parts that held the pins in place. The idea was that any solid impact would rest the ordinance loose, causing it and the car to act as an explosive entry tool.

Fully aligned at the end of the driveway, Edict stuffed the brick onto the accelerator, and as the ponderous engine made way for max revs, he was free to make for the treeline toward the edge of the drive.
He couldn’t bring himself to wait for the results. Anticipation filled his gut, and he moved on through the trees. As he skulked into the woods, he did his best to run every chance he got, sprinting from tree to tree trying to see if there was a way around the ice barrier. He’d pulled his sunglasses from the loose pocket they’d been slipped into, instantly channeling a subtle tendril to hunt for Britney’s signal on the other side of the barrier.

There had to be somewhere, someone, something who could help him get to her… All he could hope was that she was still there at all.

Kenshiro

Mentions: Emily G. Reed, Kari Wilson, Carol Doyle, His Dead Wife | Direct Dialogue: Clancy Patrick/@Zombiedude101, Britney Williams/@Punished GN, Luca Olivera/@FernStone | Location: Kari's House

It was pretty difficult to get Ken to react. At best, for the first few minutes people started to disperse, he just wandered off into a particularly private corner and continued his (slightly muffled) sobbing fit. Of course everyone else wanted help; they wanted to act like they were going to take control and figure out where Kari's notes were. All Ken could feel like was a failure for a second time. Maybe Drake understood now, a little bit... In his own mind, he was taking this far better than the death of his Wife. He was only crying, there were no outbursts of Purple magic or feelings of the last possible resort.
Kenshiro wasn't resigned to death; he was resigned to revenge. That he would spend the rest of his natural, and perhaps a future unnatural life, hunting and seeking and finding and killing. He wished a Fiend would bubble up from the floor and tell him that his Curse shall never end. He got satisfaction in chopping messengers like that in half, usually.

Instead the strange child who had broken into Kari's home was the one to break his slump at first. He said something close to comforting, only to rip it away as Ken clammed up at the suggestion that Kari would get involved with this. The suggestion that it may have been Lionel did occur to him during the previous Recollection, especially with 8th Street's reputation. Ken knew better than most what Kari was dealing with as far as pressure was concerned, as her spellbook was one of the most sought after in the entire city. It paid to have the All-Seeing Eye embrace you...
"The Paths are secure: Master Kai's Wardenry was perfected in The Viscous, and he had thousands of equivalent years to perfect their security... Noone outside the Palette Clans have knowledge of their workings. By my estimation, looking at her Coin Collection, there were no broken knots or undone ties, meaning they've remained bundled and nobody found them in the freezer." he said, doing his best to remain composed.
"If she had any sort of hand in this, she was either brainwashed, or forced! But if 8th Street was breathing down her neck, then Emily G. Reed is the first fucking person I'm interested in seeing. Because I already...-"

Ken choked up again, gripping his mouth and letting Clancy address Britney.
"I don't know what you did to people, to make them something they're not, but I know what it's like to be on the other side of that."
"Oh, my friend... She's a Pactmaker! And the whole reason Emily G. Reed is a bitter, wretched fucking cunt today?-" Ken pointed at Britney. "-Is because of you, Britney Williams. Because if it wasn't for you, and your dirty deeds? She'd be a stain on the pavement of St. Portwell. And we'd all be better off for it... Including my fucking Kari! Now what is my fucking life, Britney!? Empty! I have you people! You! And you know what the worst part is? I never would've known were it not for Kari telling me... The only other woman I thought I'd ever be able to truly open up to, and she's gone!"

But before he could make much more of a stink about things, another Recollection washed across the group. Ken wondered what the hell was going on and what the reason could be to receive two memories back to back, but his wonder quickly faded. Rage became him, watching Emily G. Reed and her cronies ransack his girlfriend's house while she lay cold and dead in a funeral home somewhere. He was so upset by it that he almost forced himself out of the Recollection to make a bad decision, but ultimately found something useful.
He only vaguely knew Carol, hearing about the different members second hand from Kari herself. He was distinctly aware of her ability, however, to repair. To fix what's broken somehow, it was described to him but he paid little attention at the time. But, they were excited about burned papers? Kari wouldn't have burned her papers, he thought. She'd have no reason to: They were always coded. And not coded like some methodical magic would be able to decipher it. She had serious ideas about the security of information, it's why she was so insistent on still putting everything down on paper and not using some digital medium.

He recognized Vashti stealing a blanket he'd gotten Kari from The Whisper. It was simple fabric, but it reacted to the body heat of the individual: It was perfect for someone whose blood was cold. He only hoped that if she still had it, she'd ruin it somehow and make it unusable... It wasn't hers to enjoy. As everything faded, Ken was filled with a strange confidence he couldn't describe to the others. Rather than return to his previous default, he immerged from the Recollection with faith in his heart and fury at his fingertips. If he was right, and the notes weren't Kari's? If they were just some red herring devised by the fleeing Kari in a last ditch effort to throw 8th off her scent?
He'd be able to act with utter impunity. No fear of the risks. Only vengeance.

"T-they're... They're not hers!" he said calmly, looking up toward Clancy and the girls further on. At once, he was frenetic again, and bounding up the basement stairs only to nearly trip over Luca.
”8th Street are coming.”
It was never nice to see Luca in this state. He was nervous. More nervous than he should've been, and Ken was quick to lift him up by way of a magical hand.
"Good, Brother... Good. Easy, now. Stand? And look at me!-" he said, speaking up again. He spoke loud enough that the whole house would've been able to hear him. "-They think they're so powerful? So strong? For insulting the honor of a dead friend and ransacking her home? Don't let this stand, Sycamore Tree! War Cometh!"

He put both his arms around Luca, embracing him as the physically closest object of affection he could interact with. There was a familiar gentle bubbling feeling, not against Ken's flesh, but against Luca's. The same kind of hug Ken usually gave him, where contact was extended and made safe by a small telekinetic bubble that prevented the rot from climbing onto him. It always vibrated and popped as little air bubbles trapped within escaped the field. Pulling back, Ken's eyes were still filled with tears.
"Come on... Tell the Rot. He can have his day today, when we turn their entire mansion into mushroom food."

Despite the tears, he smiled. But he only had a little time left now to prepare. He pulled a small bamboo stick full of clay from his vest and began to channel a spell. The metal on his headband began to glow gold, and he snapped the bamboo in half. Another Ken formed from the clay in his hands, building itself out of gold energy until he was holding his own hand. The Dummy Buddy smiled at him, and he nodded back to it. They didn't speak to one another, but the Buddy was happy to stand in for Ken as he made his way out the back door.
Knees buckled, and all at once Kenshiro flung himself vertically into the air until he had a bird's eye view of the property. Meanwhile, the silent clone looked at those who were gathering about in the main floor as things ramped up. It simply smiled and waved, but in its own mind the Dummy knew its job: Be a distraction. If they thought he was there and not fighting back, there was a chance someone would make the mistake that he wasn't willing to fight, and it'd be a perfect surprise to get bombed from above by exploding tree frogs.

"Mmmngymnmynmmmm" the Clone felt compelled to speak, but didn't possess the equipment to do so properly... But it stuck its thumb up, so... It had to be good and ready, right?

Kenshiro

Mentions: Anyone not coming to the basement. | Direct Dialogue: Anyone coming to the basement. | Location: ]Kari's House

Ken's hand was rising to his lips, hardly waiting for the group to gather before he sucked the noble liquor from the disposable cup, when the Recollection crashed like a wave across the attendents. He saw Kari, and his body reactively wept at the sight of her smile. The way she held Elsa... But she was talking to Lionel about 8th Street... He knew they'd been pestering her for some time, so he never missed a chance to give Emily G. Reed a hard time just like he had at the Festival. He thought maybe he could protect her...

And he was a fool. A fool who was too selfish to stick around and actually help her.

There was a bit about Sloane, but he hadn't realized they were speaking again. Typical. He didn't ever know much; he felt it straining their relationship more and more everytime he came back. She was less and less inclined to let him stick around for long periods, and more insistant that he get back on the road. He hated that, and the feeling like she was rejecting him, even when she apologized later and let him back. He understood, he always thought. He figured she was just stressed about all the things she could see, and he didn't blame her for the strong reactions.
But by that point in his thinking, the world was already coming back to each of them in full color. He felt the tears leaking down his face and the alcohol leaking down his chin as it had been emptied out into his mouth but never swallowed. It was pain again, and guilt. And anger directed at the same woman who thought it was nice and cool to kick down Kari's door.

But he wouldn't bother the group with his words or his fury. Those who were truly together had to stay that way, or they would die one by one in a slow, miserable pattern of weakest to strongest, most opportune to least. And if that dead Kari wasn't their Kari, then she wasn't really dead... But where the fuck was she?
Classic Linqian was yapping away; he hadn't even heard her laying into Sloane the way he wanted to, rather hearing his name specifically. He wiped the wasted alcohol off his face with his sleeve and nodded before making his way to her refridgerator. Opening the freezer compartment, Ken pulled a small wooden box out and popped it open. Within, a row of shimmering, frozen gold coins were laid in a half-cylinder case upon a velvet bed. The stack was about twenty coins deep, and he pulled a single one from the box before sliding it into his utility pack strapped to his waist. He thought about how she'd once used the thing so many times he had to upgrade her carrying case so she could keep more coins safely.

It was dishonorable to keep them laying out, and she seemed to respect whenever he gave her some strange snippit of culture. She was even good about adopting things like that. It was part of what he liked about her so much.
"Alright, alright. Come with me, and be sure to keep an ear out for Brother Drake. Some should stay up here."
And then he made way for the basement door. Some people had already meandered down, and he lightly thumped down the rickety wooden stairs until he was standing in the dusty haze of the basement. He looked at all the shelving units and workshopping spaces; places she used to be able to keep projects and different plot graphs for areas she was exploring or info she was gathering. There were different rooms in various states of finished and unfinished, mostly done with Ken's help as his trade in the Village had been carpenting.
He stepped up to what looked like some sort of filled-in dumbweight elevator door that had been painted over and sealed shut. It was big; probably the size of an old-school television, or one of those wall safes you'd see rich people having in the movies. As the assorted procession filed in behind him, he turned to face them.

"I don't suspect the Murasaki's ancient technique of Dark Drops to have been compromised by our enemies... But that doesn't mean I wouldn't recommend being on guard when I open this. My intuitions aren't what they used to be..."
He waited for everyone who was gathered to ready themselves as they saw fit... Then, with a smooth movement, Ken slipped the coin he'd grabbed into an inconspicuous gap between the plaster of the wall and the actual structure of the dumbweighter. At once, there was a burst of Purple Lux that formed hundreds of Kanji characters scrolling across the surface of the wall. With a slightly wet separating noise. the painted over door to the dumbweighter split in the middle, descending and ascending into slots in the wall.

There was a rush of air, and then it opened fully. Anyone who had traveled with Ken, somewhere between the realms in a place that skirted along the void, the great Master Kai had carved a path in the darkest forest. There, he hid many things, and kept weapons of war and peace. The Forest of Doors: A true Pocket-dimension. And here was a three foot cubed space of it juxtaposed into Kari's wall locked behind a secret door opened with some kind of secret mechanism. The pocket itself was full of possessions and nick-knacks that Kari thought were special.
And like clockwork, the grief-stricken Kenshiro let loose like a man who had truly lost a spouse. Bellowing through tears, his hands immediately reached into the space and started pulling out things to organize them on the table. He started with several hard-covered albums, and opening them would reveal a myriad of incredibly shaped and colored bird feathers. There were also half a dozen glass-topped boxes of the strangest kind of stones and jewels, some luminescent under their own power while others shone in colors that shouldn't exist in the Shimmer. Small albums of picures and drawings that Kari and Ken had shared while she experienced travels of her own.

And pictures of the Coven. Happy and sad days. Memories.
There was also a box labled "Lisa" which contained some of her own personal belongings as well as a diary; probably some kind of safety deposit box agreement. Ken loved how thoughtful Kari could be about her friends...

But panic quickly joined Kenshiro's sniffling. His arms moved away the little privacy cloths, looking around the space thoroughly and at one point hanging his entire body into the hole.
"No... No! NO!-" Ken finally grunted out, pulling himself away from the pocket dimension. "-Her notes! Her notebooks! None of them are here, and the seal wasn't tampered with, there were no breaks in the scripture: Nothing! And her... Her fucking books aren't-"
In a fit of rage, Kenshiro's fist hauled back and drove itself through the drywall above the door. When he did so, the pocket dimension began to flicker in and out of existence until all that remained was a smooth, blank wall behind false doors. His hand pulling out of the wall caused half a dozen of those same coins to fall from the spot he punched.
"-there... The books weren't fucking in there..."

Ken's hands came up and gripped at his head. Reeling, he spun and dropped his hands to the table, staring at the hundreds of little bits of otherworldly materials he'd brought back for Kari to catalogue and retrace whenever she wanted. Like her own exploratory atlas. His legs gave out, and on his knees he once again wept in opposition to being helpful. Frankly, he didn't feel helpful. He felt lost and in agony, and he wanted to make it the problem of those who'd done this, but he had no way of directing such aggression.

It was all just pain and loneliness again.
"Fuck!"

Kenshiro

Mentions: Too many people to be breaking into one house. | Direct Dialogue: Amara King/@Blizz, Clancy Patrick/@Zombiedude101, Sully McPherson/@Atrophy, Aislin Rose/@Estylwen | Location: ]Kari's House

They kicked her door in... Sloane... Kicked Kari's house's door in. Ken's mind reeled as he did his best to hold back wrath and pain. He wasn't known for being a loose cannon when it came to his family; they received the most tender version of himself that Kenshiro could possibly project, even in moments like this. He looked from person to person, watching the dogpile slowly start to form at Sloane's feet, and thought about how badly he wanted to join in. How badly he wanted to be rude like her, and make a mess that someone else had to clean up, like the door he knew he'd be fixing himself...
Well, maybe he wouldn't. Stormy was a professor, but he'd never been afraid to get his hands dirty. Frankly, looking around, he figured he could probably trust just about anyone around to at least give him a cursory hand in one way or another.
Remember your happy place. You have no right to be upset. You gave that up... Let it go now.

And then a young man appearead at the door of Kari's house like he lived there. Ken didn't recognize this boy, he didn't know this boy, and frankly the thought of him crawling around in the house while he'd patiently waited on the roof like a half way polite person made Ken's skin crawl with discomfort.
He walked forward, elevating his hand with a finger outstretched.
"No! No, no, I won't stand for this now! Who... What... Why!? Can't we ever get fucking organized? It's just like making plans! Just like it, I make sure I come back for a certain date, I syncronize my cronometer between the two dimensions, I get home on time to texts telling me that things are canceled like Verizon exists in the Kingdom of Molaran?"
Ken's frustrated voice cut the air across the yard as different members began making themselves somewhat at home. At this point, he was almost certain that neighbors or someone would have half a mind to call the police, and he didn't have the mental fortitude in the current moment to reign it in any longer.

"Sully!? Put the fucking cup away, my friend! Did you not have a dream the other night where a girl took it from a pedestal? And then, coincidentally, you got it stolen at the Festival? It's bad enough there's so many of us fucking here!"
He was accutely aware of other people still bumping and chafing against one another, but he heard Amara say his name from the corner of his attention.
"If there was something off about Kari, where would she have evidence of that sort of thing?"
He turned his head and body with confusion, his glowing purple hands plucking the door from the floor as he did his best to tidy the place up.
"Whatever she would've been working on is either...-" Ken paused, trailing off for a moment before shaking his head.
"-Y'know, I don't fucking know to be honest with you. I wish I did. Really! I..."

Ken's face turned sour, and the tears began to roll from his eyes in a more full bodied fashion.
"God Damn it all... Y'know, forget I fucking said anything, Sully, please can I have a fucking drink? A drink, a drink! When have I ever wanted a fucking drink!?"
The sullen warrior tucked the door back into its frame, clicking it closed so at least the neighbors wouldn't see the broken door if they looked out. Before it was even situated, his back was turned and he was walking toward the patio, looking between Sully and Aislin with red, teary eyes.
"Sorry, sorry... About what I said. It's still nice to see you all; and you Aislin. I... I think Kari maybe would've thought this was funny at some point."
He looked through the gathering now, finding the face of Evelynn Serenelight, and he wondered instantly if she was feeling the same pain and frustration he was. Or if she even felt anything for Kari anymore. He remembered being close with her; close enough to figure out he liked Kari just a bit more. But he never thought anything would come from it. Now he felt the knot of mourning sickness in his stomach and he wanted to burst at the seams.

Fully equipped, he pulled a small cantine from his belt and unscrewed the cap before holding it up to Sully to fill.
"Amara...?-" he turned back to face Amara again. "-Her... Her delicates drawer. She usually kept the important notebooks in there." he closed his eyes, shaking his head. "There's no way I'm looking through them."
He cleared his throat as he turned his attention back to Sully and Aislin.
"That was... A joke." he continued, a dry smile cracking thin across his face. He shook his head, waving her to join them. He looked out toward Lynn, seeing the usual suspects alongside her. He waved for them to come too.
"My Second Clan? Come on, everyone, gather who will for a shot in Kari's memory... And PLEASE stop ransacking her house, because you won't find what you're looking for in any drawer or couch. Kari kept her most private things in a place so safe I'd bet my own life on it."

If only his first clan could prove that statement correct...
"Because I trust locks! And keys that lock the locks! I'm dead serious, Sully, pour the Sake for everyone... Because this isn't just for Kari. This is for Lyss, and Ashley, and for Kali and Jade and Jinhai... No more lost... Please?"
Ken had never been that loud in the old days. Where he came from, one didn't open themselves up like that, to be loud or emotional unless it was anger. But even though he'd felt those emotions, he couldn't let them overpower the love he had for the family he was with now.
"And quick, because the Old Bat across the street is a nosey hag, and if she saw us piling in here, she's gonna call the fucking cops!"
Ken looked at Amara with a smirk on his face.
"Do I know where she keeps her stuff... Up until a few years ago the panty drawer wasn't a joke. But I hooked her up. It took a few days and a lot of raw material, but I got it right eventually. Come on! Gather around and take a shot, then its off to the Basement we go!" Ken called to everyone.

Act One-Two


Casey’s internal clock knew five in the morning like it was branded into his brain with hot metal. Five AM was like a hiccup in a vacuum: It always felt like the world was closing in around him at that time. But today, there was something different. His sleep had been dark and black, devoid of the nightmares that usually plagued him.

He felt a little weight on top of him. She was soft, and her skin was practically hot to the touch. At some point over the night, he had tucked Trisha up closer and tighter to the couch so his feet and legs were sticking out in the cool air of the apartment. He didn’t like being hot like that, but he did like feeling the weight of something on top of him.
There was an order in the mail that he was waiting on: A forty pound aluminum mesh blanket was on the way from this blacksmith upstate.

It was perfect, the kind of material that didn’t add any kind of insulation. Only weight. She was perfect, except the part of his body she was tucked closest to felt like it had turned to sandstone. She’d rolled, and his bare arm was practically stuck to her bare back; apparently she’d accidentally rolled it up.

He took a deep, quiet breath. The cats’ muffled voices echoed from the other side of the wall, instantly aware that Casey was rejoining the world of the waking. November first. He laid there a few more minutes, still astonished that such a cute woman had just curled up and fell asleep.
He remembered being impressed by a joke, but mostly he was tired because…

Casey finally shifted, and felt all the searing pain of the bee sting patches rolling across his body like he’d been beaten up in his sleep. It wasn’t good, but it was at least easier to deal with than the reality that was getting actively stung.
He shifted his body, knowing he had very little room to work with. But she was already tucked and ready to roll into the couch if he slipped out. So, he twisted his torso, and the arm underneath her kept her in place until his legs and ass were free. With a single scoot, he placed her back down fully and got up.

He stretched hard, rolling his hips and midriff while his legs shook from the strain.
”Alright, Baby Bee. You’re just dreaming. Stay asleep.” he very quietly spoke down to her before squatting and scooping Trisha up from underneath herself.

Trisha grumbled in her sleep, a few barely audible and not fully formed words escaping her lips, before she twisted around to press her face against his chest.

He nearly squealed from the cuteness death. However, he had a duty. She was expecting breakfast in bed, but he couldn’t make that happen if she wasn’t in a bed specifically. So, slowly and methodically, Casey carried Trisha back to his bedroom. The gentle water noise and low hum of the electronics made the room a little more noisy, but a little more comforting in his mind.
Bending at the knees, he unfurled the blankets and let Trisha slip into the silky sheets before covering her back up.

With the payload safe, he made for his dresser and grabbed some morning clothing. Clean sweats and a new shirt, new socks; he changed in the living room and locked his bedroom door behind him so nobody could get in from the outside. It was one way, so she wasn’t stuck in there in case she wanted to use the bathroom while he was out.
But he had a strange feeling, and he slipped back in as quietly as possible to get two things: His Channeler, which he stuffed into his pocket, and a pistol in a waistband holster that he clipped to his front and slipped his shirt over.

Forty-Five in a compact, he was used to the jumpy little pistol. It was his range shooter, and the beam on it was nicely aligned so he didn’t have to aim. Just in case anyone felt funny, he refused to not be protected.
He leaned over Trisha, kissing her forehead again and smiling warmly at her before pulling away. He still had the place’s address in his head, and he typed it into his phone, then grabbed his keys and headed upstairs to his car. As he passed the hallway, he made it a point to scoop up all the dirty laundry that needed doing.

Coming out of the door, he turned right and immediately entered the laundry room of the apartment building, and he loaded up the curtains, his and Trisha’s dirty clothing, her bee onesie, whatever was in the pile. The machines were all card machines, so he pulled his phone out and slid it across the mechanical face. There was a gentle chime that told him the machine accepted his money, and the electric hum of the washer began as the barrel rotated. He figured by the time he got back, it’d be done enough to dry.

Coming back out, he came face to face with an unexpected person.
”Casey? Where the fuck have you been?”
Casey looked up at his older brother, who was just a little bit taller as he was still standing on the stairs. Casey’s face was blank, but Leon looked pretty bad. Like he hadn’t slept in days.

”I’ve been here. Why, what’s wrong?”
Leon’s face turned sour. His hands clapped together as he sauntered down the last couple steps.
”Have you bothered looking at your phone? We got hit last night.”
Casey’s gut fell out of his body. His eyes grew to saucers, and he slowly reached for his phone. He hadn’t actually looked at it, just scanned the electronic card…
Ten missed calls, ten voice messages, thirty-five texts.
Casey’s grim expression met Leon’s, and he took a deep breath.

”How bad?”
”Andrade’s hurt. The Doc fixed him up, but Elise is pretty shaken up about it. I guess she put Mondo in harm’s way, and-”
Casey stopped his brother, holding his hand up.
”Where are you in this equation, Mister Bastion?”

Casey didn’t like what Leon was getting at: He was conditioned to this sort of behaviour. If Leon had been there, Elise would’ve never utilised Mia’s gift; her Channeler was far too precious to be destroyed. She had to be desperate, which meant that Leon wasn’t there to help… So now it was going to be Casey’s fault. He was ready.

”Sycamore Business, you wouldn’t unde-”
”No, Man… I understand just fine. We weren’t there, and so you’re catching the heat and you need someone else to blame.”

Leon was silent, staring at Casey with frustration in his eyes. Casey saw his brother’s nostrils flare slightly.
”I’ll tell you what: I was planning on heading over there later. I’ll cancel all of my plans and intentions for you, Leon. So that you can be free to do what you want. Since I know that’s all you want to do, I mean all your friends are home. Who wants to spend all that time looking like he’s some cultist tool?”
”And what fucking plans did you have?”
”Ask my fucking girlfriend if you dare to wake her up.”

Leon had intended to square up and use his size to try and intimidate Casey, but once those words left his mouth, Leon slacked up. Confusion and fear set in.
”L-lena?” Leon croaked, fearing the answer.
Casey’s eyes narrowed. A wide and evil smile crept across his face.
”No, Lee. Honestly? I fucking hate Lena. I hate her fake enthusiasm, I hate the way she’s always on her phone when she’s not pretending to be interested in me, I hate the way she talks like our Mother.”

Leon’s face went from confusion to fear to sadness all at once. He realised instantly what he’d set in motion, and he cleared his throat.
”Is Promiscuous Patricia in my apartment right now?”
Casey stepped forward, cutting Leon’s space as he approached the stairs.
”Do not make your problems with her my problems, Leon. If you really fucking care, like you’ve said that you do? Then you’ll keep the fuck out of it. Please and thanks.”
His feet took him up the stairs, but Leon followed him closely.

”Listen, I just didn’t want to deal with her! But Casey, I promise you that she’s not going to give you anything but grief, Bro!”
”Wow, really concerned about it. That’s touching Leon, I’ll be sure to mark this down in my memories as one of the times you really tried your hardest to be a big brother. Crazy how you’re putting up more resistance about me dating a girl than signing up for a literal World War.”

Leon stopped dead in his tracks, great sadness flowing over him. It was enough of a stun that Casey got out of the side door and into the parking lot without Leon. But that big goofy man stood in the glass door and watched Casey as he got into his car. Casey’s hands flew up, questioning Leon’s actions, and then gestured to his passenger seat. Reluctantly the wolfman came and got into the car. The gate rolled open, and the car slid out into the dark St. Portwell morning.

It was quiet at first, but Leon broke the silence.
”So you… Had a good night?”
Casey didn’t respond verbally, clasping his lips into a frown and nodding.
”Did you?”
Leon shook his head.
”After we parted ways, I ended up getting involved with what I thought would be fun. It just led to a bad situation that could’ve ended a lot worse if some of my friends hadn’t been there.”

And there it was. Casey knew immediately, but hearing Leon say it was vindicating. He’d been fucking off, and because he wasn’t doing his job playing Temple Superman, people they were close to got hurt. Classic.

”So I assume when you got back with your tail tucked, you got your head ripped off?”
Leon didn’t answer with words, but his hand rose up slightly as if to agree.
”Didn’t get that far. After my situation was over, I went back to the tent because I figured there was some more of that health pie left, but I found the place wrecked. I found the two of them at the Merch booth with Keighla and Clarissa. She got things started, but it wasn’t long before Mom appeared out of thin air.”

Always too late to actually be of any help. Classic Lynette. There was another pause as Casey made his way on through the quiet streets. The sweepers were out in force, blowing away the confetti and candy wrappers left in the street the night before. The two men took long breaths between one another, slowly synchronising until their actions were in tandem. Things relaxed again.

”I’m sorry. And I already defended you.”
”What, from Mom?”
”She was pretty upset with both of us. You know how important Andrade is with things; and we haven’t found him any sort of apprentice to teach. But, I made sure she knew it wasn’t your fault. That I told you that you could head home. She’s frustrated you won’t get help with your condition.”

Of course she was; it made Casey less effective overall. He couldn’t deal with crowds, couldn’t deal with long exposure to social situations. He couldn’t be the same kind of butterfly Leon or Junior were.
”I know. I bet she wishes I never-”
”Absolutely not. You know she’s regretful, I’ve told you before. Just give her some time.”

The two dragged the conversation on as Casey drove closer and closer to the bakery. He saw it from the street, but there was no connecting parking. He picked a street spot and pulled in.
”Do you want anything?”

Leon looked out at the bakery and chuckled.
”You came all this way for a croissant?
Casey shook his head.
”I promised her breakfast in bed. Sh-”

Leon immediately clowned on his younger brother, scoffing and tilting his head back. Casey’s hands came up in a frustrated manner, slapping the steering wheel on the way back down.

”No, no, Casey… It’s fine! It’s fine, I just… Man, Patty? Patricia?”
”Just Trisha, man.”
”Well when you get into your first argument, make sure you call her Patricia Punkass, or literally any alliteration to her full name.”

Casey shook his head in disgust.
”Whatever, man. Do you fucking want something or not?”
Leon shook his head, taking his seatbelt off.
”No, the Gym is close enough. I’ll just hit a run and have a protein drink when I get there.”

Casey looked around a little bit, recognizing the neighbourhood a little more. He hadn’t realised their uptown branch was so close, but it made sense. With three Gravity Gyms around St. Portwell, he figured they were just always close to one.

The two brothers got out of the car in tandem, and Leon gave Casey a wave.
”So you’re gonna go over there at least?”
Casey nodded.
”I wanted to talk to Mary-Ann about helping with the Bees and stuff.”

Leon tossed his hands up.
”Well good luck with that. Chances are, all Mom’s concerns will melt away when she smells the money wafting off the body of a Vanburen. Ciao, Little Brother.”

Casey flipped Leon off as he turned and walked away. It wasn’t a great morning start, but he did his best to put the impending doom on the back burner. As he walked down the street, he pulled his phone out and rattled off a text message to Clarissa letting her know that he was aware of the situation, and that he’d be over later on to figure out what the next steps were.

For now, he knew what his next steps were. He stepped on and on, into that little bakery, and when he emerged, he was holding so much that it was silly. They had just finished their bread rolls, and the scent of all the warm wheat came just short of giving him wood for probably the first time in months.
While meat was a source of regret and fear, fresh baked goods were the opposite. They were innocent foods, people’s fillers that were meant to be consumed and had zero morbidity to them whatsoever.

Boxes were filled with muffins and tarts and donuts, bagels, a couple of chocolate filled croissants (his favourite treat since childhood) and loads of other goods that would be happily devoured by the young people in the Temple dorms and commons. He came out with so much actually that a person from the bakery actually helped him get it all out and situated it in his car before he made his way back home.

Pulling back in, he headed around the back of the building so he could leave the car running. He didn’t want to bring all the shit back in, so he had them prep a sampler in a single box, so all he had to do was bring that back inside with him. It was just after quarter-to-six, and he figured Trisha wasn’t going to want to get up just yet. He had time.

Getting back in the apartment, Eddy was up and rummaging through the fridge. She was more than half naked, and nearly jumped out of her flesh as Casey rounded the corner.
”God Dammit Casey!”
She had a hoodie on, but… Just the hood. She grabbed the cloth arms and quickly tied them around her chest to cover.
”You’re fucking out?”

He stood with the box of pastries, confused and slightly concerned. He looked past her toward the closed door. He didn’t need to use words to convey his feelings to Eddy, who knew pretty instantly that Casey was processing a whole bunch of thoughts.

”I-I-I-u-uh… Was… Gonna use Leon’s shower! H-hari said Clarissa-”
Casey put his free hand up to stop her.
”Spare yourself the trouble, Eddy. Just… Please disappear.”

She was gone like lightning, leaving the raw burning smell in her wake. Casey was compelled to open the door, to creep down the hall, to catch them. Just for the forbidden knowledge. But he shook it out of his head. He didn’t need to know about his little sister’s freakshow life. He’d had enough of a morning already, he just wanted to focus on that warm feeling he got when he thought about Trisha.

He pulled a croissant out of the box and tucked in immediately. It was hot and delicious, and the boxes all had this little foil lining that kept them insulated so they’d stay that way longer. He really understood why Trisha had mentioned the place. Their selection was fantastic, and the ingredients seemed premium. The front was covered in flour; he learned in France that you only wanted to go to a bakery that was covered in flour. If it wasn’t, chances are they weren’t working very hard.

The creamy chocolate filling blew his concerns away for the short term, and he set about getting hot water for tea and brewing a pot of coffee. It wasn’t long before good ol’ Hari quietly popped the door to the otherside open and slid in. Casey had the tin of coffee in his hands.
”Whaaaaat?” he groaned playfully.

Important to distinguish was the idea that Casey did love the girls. Mia, Eddy, Hari: But mostly, probably more than his own blood, he loved Hari. She had this aura, this ability to listen and receive and not misinterpret communication. She was patient, even tempered, willing to put up with all manner of frustration.
She was one of his Mother’s Angels. A Temple Crone. It was an important position, and came with a lot of perks.

It was important to Casey that Hari was willing to share these perks. She stepped close to him; very close. Her head was just about empty, conditioned to do so as she delivered a message to her honorary older brother.
”She’s expected.”

Casey nodded his head. Of course their Mother knew.
”Where’s the plant?”
Hari hugged her arms around Casey, squeezing tight. It was obvious they weren’t blood by the height gap, and Hari barely came up to his chest.
”Don’t… It’s not worth it.”

There was a long pause. Casey finished filling the coffee maker with water, started the machine, and then wrapped an arm around Hari. He rubbed her shoulder for a moment.
”It’s worth getting out, Casey…”
Casey took another deep breath.
”You three… Are using again.”

She didn’t respond besides slowly nodding her head. But she pulled away.
”It’s not-”
He put his hand up. He didn’t want to hear her explain.
”Then don’t lecture me about getting out.”
Hari frowned, but she couldn’t do much about it. There was too much to unpack.

”Where’s Ed?”
Casey’s head nodded toward the hall behind him.
”Hiding in Lee’s room like she thinks I’ll disappear.”
Hari sighed, walking around him and off toward Leon’s room.

No fucking peace around here.

He started shuffling through cabinets looking for that tray they used to use on Mother’s Day, finding it buried under a bunch of pans. It was still shiny, and had the etched image of two elk forming a heart with their antlers in the middle. He couldn’t help but smile gently at it. He prepared a bunch of little plates, napkins, cups, then started filling them one by one.

A donut, a cream puff, a few citrus jelly tarts, a beautiful bagel with the choice of spread from cream cheese to butter to jelly. Water with a couple different kinds of tea, coffee, apple juice, and an optional shot of vodka in case she wanted a morning screwball instead of just the juice.
He knew his Mom certainly did.
He asked them for some bacon as well, seeing they had breakfast sandwiches, and laid it on a plate with some of their brioche toast and a warm slice of swiss cheese on top of it.

Before he finished, the two girls passed by him again. At least this time Eddy was actually wearing the hoodie…
”There’s definitely gonna be a meeting.”
Casey nodded as they passed.
”Shit, do we get any love like that?”
Casey grimaced.
”Nope, this is for girlfriends only, and there’s no way I’m jumping in bed with you girls.”

They both just giggled, crossing back into the other side and closing the door. In that moment he swore if he saw a paw, he’d sever it. The cats immediately began beating at the wall and laughing maniacally to themselves. His hand almost reached for his pistol, but it’d be useless. He just looked down at the tray and felt a warm feeling.

Trisha.
But before he woke her up, he figured he’d go turn the laundry over. The units were especially nice, and their efficiency meant that cycles were quick and washing was thorough. Before he transferred, he inspected, making sure there were no lasting stains that needed to be worked out. Once everything was drying, he figured now was the time. Six-thirty in the morning.

A very clearly normal time to be awake considering the Girls were up. It didn’t matter that they’d fallen asleep around midnight to Casey: He was used to days without it in general. A few hours made no difference…

So up came the tray, perfectly balanced in one hand. With the other, he unlocked the door and slipped into the room, closing the door gently behind him. The plates rattled slightly as he placed the tray down on a solid surface. He was sure to unclip his gun and put it back in the drawer before he got close to her by climbing into the bed next to her.

Casey’s arms wrapped around Trisha and he snuggled her gently.
”It’s time to wake up, Your Highness… Breakfast is served in the Kingdom of Crazy People…” he whispered, slowly shaking her.

In her half asleep state, Trisha felt a weight against her back, and soft words buzzing in her ears. It felt… a bit heavier than bees, but it had to be the bees, who else would be there. She rolled onto her back, eyes still closed and mind heavy with sleep. A limp hand raised over her face and waved in front of it as if shooing something away.
“Mm, buzz off, entertain yourselves… it’s too early…” she mumbled, eyes slowly beginning to open. As they did, and she began to wake up, she remembered where she actually was.

This wasn’t her bed. Nor was it the sofa she’d fallen asleep on. That meant it wasn’t bees buzzing or landing on her… it was…
“Oh… Good morning,” Trisha smiled, warm and sleepy. Her eyes blinked open, sleep still a soft gauze over their pretty, hazel surface. She sluggishly rolled in Casey’s arms so she was facing him. She could already smell the food, waking up her appetite along with the rest of her body. It was earlier than she’d normally get up, probably, but she didn’t really mind. Trisha didn’t really have a specific sleep schedule - just when she wanted, tending to sleep long hours because she didn’t have much else to do. But early mornings and shorter hours of sleep were fine too. “I think I want to be woken up like this every morning… Well you don’t have to get breakfast every time. Just the hugging is much nicer than an alarm… definitely much nicer than a bee alarm.”

She yawned, reaching up a hand to rub her eyes, before slowly blinking and seeming to properly wake up. “How did I get in the bed? I definitely didn’t fall asleep here…”

Casey smiled at Trisha like the sun was coming out of his mouth. Pure unadulterated happiness washed over him like an ocean wave a hundred feet tall. He rubbed his hands against her back for a moment.
”The couch has legs, he brought you in.”

“Oh of course, I should’ve known,” Trisha laughed, rolling her eyes good naturedly and craning her neck to glance over Casey’s shoulder. “It managed to get through that door? Or did you patch up the hole it made while I was asleep?”

He scrunched his head into the crook of her neck and shoulder, laughing. He squeezed her tight, then finally pulled away and stood up.
”When I woke up, I managed to get you in there before you got too jostled. Now, sit up. Lemmie get your pillows, so you can be comfy while you eat. You want the TV?” he kissed the top of her head.

He reached for a second pillow on the other side of the bed, propping her up nicely before swinging the tray over and sliding it over her lap. It was quite the spread.
”I don’t know how you like your tea or coffee, but I’m on demand for any condiments. Milk, cream, sugar, just ask. Oh, let me get you a napkin too.”

He slipped out of the door, coming back with a cloth napkin that he daintily laid next to her, along with a spoon, fork and knife.

“Wow.” Trisha was honestly overwhelmed, but in a good way. He’d gotten a whole selection, and actually brought it to her on a tray in bed. She’d… never really had someone look after her like this. It was nice but disconcerting. She wasn’t even sure where to start. With a drink choice, probably. “Just some milk for the coffee? No need for TV- what’s even on at this time? The news? That’s never fun.”

The news was what her mom would watch every morning, ignoring all conversation from Trisha. It was a step up from the finance programs often on in the Vanburen household, where the oldest or biggest got to choose. She didn’t feel the need for that background noise, comfortable with how things were.

Before Casey went to get milk, and she started eating, she leaned over and stretched up to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you, this is actually… yeah… it’s really nice.” She picked up the knife and spread a thin layer of butter on one half of the bagel, before putting on a slightly thicker layer of jelly. She picked it up and took a bite, smile immediately widening. It was as good as normal… he’d really gone to the bakery she’d said about. Not that she’d expected him to try lie about it, just it was a bit out of the way. “You’re eating too, right? This is wayyy to much for just me in the morning.”

Casey came back with milk and sugar, and he snagged one of the tarts from the plate.
”Yeah, absolutely. A lot of things make me feel like shit, but bread and sugar aren’t in that category. I think breakfast was invented by someone who skipped dessert a lot.” he mused, settling down on the empty side of the bed and munching away. He had his own coffee in his hand, black with a lot of sugar.

“It definitely was… At least, breakfast like this, rather than boring toast and cereal,” Trisha smiled, pouring milk into her coffee and taking a sip. It was a bit hot so she put it back down to continue eating the bagel. She twisted her head to look at Casey as she did. “I used to skip breakfast a lot as a kid. Was up late every night so I didn’t have time before school… Don’t know how I did it, it’s the best meal of the day. Maybe I just think that cause I’ve gotten more of a sweet tooth since I got the bees.”

Casey laughed thinking about all the meals he’d missed in his life.
”Our Dad used to always make sure we were eating five meals a day. Small ones. He learned all he knew about fitness from this Guru who was friends with our Grandfather, and the guy was always talking about constantly feeding your gut and making sure it was well worked. You are what you eat, all of that.”
He scarfed down the tart, following it with another sip and nodding.
”So it was all snacks. Apples and tapas and charcuterie boards and these-”

Casey held both his hands up in a box that was about ten inches in height.
”-massive fuckin’ protein shakes. We called ‘em garbage cups, he’d throw everything in. Like, cooked chicken, banana, peanuts, kale. First time I had a chocolate bar, I thought I was going to explode.”

Trisha’s nose scrunched up, and grimaced.
“That sounds… horrible. All of that blended together? I think I would’ve thrown it up- just thinking about it, ew.” She shook her head, taking another smaller bite of the bagel and washing it down with some coffee. “I knew a couple of people who went on these protein shake diets, but it was this powder blend. Not that. What is blended chicken even like… actually, don’t tell me. I don’t think I can handle it.”

Not when she was eating. Or ever, actually. The ‘protein shakes’ sounded like they were something out of a horror movie. “My one or two meals a day seems quite good in comparison. I’m quite glad no one had the time to force a protein shake like that down me- well, it probably would’ve been caviar or something. Dad was always away and mom lives on the other side of the country. One of my older sisters tried to take that role, but it didn’t really work out. She’s-”

Trisha didn’t really know how to describe Tansy- the queen bitch of the Vanburen family. She’d rather not. Her munching got a bit more aggressive as she finished off the half of the bagel, reaching for the cream puff.
“Oh, I think she’d get on with your mom, actually. She did try and push certain ways of eating on us, but it was normally diets. I started skipping dinner for a while so I didn’t have to hear her go on and on about how we should all be eating salads, and oh, there was this special type of water that was better for you than normal water. But… she never tried to feed me blended chicken.” Trisha couldn’t help but laugh at that.

Casey watched Trisha polish off her bagel with fervour and took a mental note that it was the first thing she went for. Typically that was the first thing to go, but if she did so much to it he figured it had to be something she liked.
Maybe she was the type to go for her favourites first, or maybe she was just serious about breakfast just like she was saying.

”The only time I ever heard about special water was when this melonhead from the Reserve office tried to get me signed up for a fuckin’ pyramid scheme. What’d she have like a special filter or something bogus like that?”
The same Private, Casey remembered, was discharged a few weeks later for trying to sell an MP some dope. Moron.

"Hmm I think it had like, shit added into it?” Trisha mumbled out around eating the cream puff. Her eyes squinted slightly as she tried to remember. It had been a while ago and there was always someone in the Vanburen house trying to push some fad. "Like extra minerals and shit added in, electrolytes… it was probably a pyramid scheme that she was running. Supposedly it'd make your skin 'glow' and give you more energy. Honestly it-” Trisha paused, stifling laughter. “It definitely made something glow when I threw some of it in her face.”

She finished the cream puff and paused, just picking up her mug of coffee and sipping it. Honestly, she wanted to eat more but after all that chicken last night there was no way she could. Maybe if she waited a bit.
“So… what are the plans for today?” she smiled at Casey over her coffee. Based on their talk last night, she had an idea of where that might be… however the cat to mother communication went. Or some other way she had to find out, as controlling as she sounded. “Need to know how much coffee to drink to prepare, and if I need that shot.”

There was a warm laugh when he imagined her dumping water into some older lady’s face. He didn’t know why, those kinds of cruel acts usually didn’t sit well with him, but… He imagined her cute face scrunched up in anger, or the way she maybe bounced without realising that she even did it.
It was the same sort of reason you’d get a terrier; feisty but tiny. However, she did drop the question. The Question. She asked if she needed the shot.

”Well, in terms of what I had originally planned, I figured we’d hang around here until the afternoon, bask in one another’s company for a little while longer, then head out. I thought I’d bring you home, give you some personal time if you wanted it or at least let you get some day clothes. After that, sort of depended on what you were going to say. But…-”
Casey grimaced, eyes closing for a moment as he took another sip of his own coffee and bit down on a donut, then followed with a second sip.
”-Well, I had quite the morning while you were sleeping… Shouldn’t say quite, I feel like that’s too much credit. It was annoying. Leon showed up as I was leaving to get this stuff and tried to grill me because there was some trouble at the food tent after we left.”

Casey shrugged, looking down at his cup and then back up at Trisha. It was, he felt, going to be fine as long as she was there too. Like it wouldn’t be a problem if she believed it wouldn’t be.
”I talked him down, and he told me that he took the heat off me with our Mom. Which is great. But, I woke up with a ton of calls and texts from her and my sister. Nothing nasty, just informational shit and them basically repeatedly asking me to somehow answer the phone.
”It cuts off around three-thirty this morning, so I assume at that point she started snooping around the apartment with her magic and either the cats spilled the beans about you, or she knew I had a woman here last night, because after I got back, Hari told me that Lynette is… Expecting you. he said with some discomfort.

“Oh,” was all Trisha said at first as she processed it all. If Casey had talked to Leon, did that mean Leon knew she was here? Had he tried to… discourage Casey from being with her? She knew he didn’t like her - most of the old coven didn’t. Even the ones she’d tried to be friendly with she’d been horrible to at the end, when the coven dissolved. Lashed out like always. But Casey was still here. He hadn’t just kicked her out so Leon probably hadn’t said anything…

The rest was a different matter entirely. So, Lynette could magically spy on them in some way. That didn’t sit well with her, a hint of discomfort springing in her chest. Had she shown herself in a bad way last night? She’d lost control of her bees. She wasn’t doing anything productive, like learning to- Wait. This wasn’t her own mother. Trisha forcefully cut off her thoughts.
”So you had a way better night than the rest of your family?” She started, before realising that was in poor taste if there was some kind of trouble. She took a big gulp of her coffee. The shot was definitely appealing, but one vodka shot and she’d be gone. “I guess we’re skipping all the minions and going straight for the boss fight then- sorry, one of my friends is big into gaming, rubbed off on me a bit. That’s fine. I guess it’s only fair if something happened last night… well not the snooping. But your family will be curious about what was so amazing you couldn’t look at your phone, right?”

She smiled warmly at him, putting down her cup and reaching out to take his hand. She gently squeezed it. Like it was nothing meeting his cult running, magically spying mother on day two.
“We’ll go there then… Well, let’s go to my place first. I want to change clothes and collect some bees.”

Casey felt the warmest wash of radiant emotion rake across his body like a storm of comets turning him into swiss cheese. Between the morbid joke and her unwavering desire to face fear and uncertainty, the word formed on the tip of Casey’s tongue like nuclear fusion. The power of the sun flung itself from his mouth.
”God, I fucking love-”
His voice hitched and he paused. It was brief, but long enough to notice.
”-how… I love how cool you are, Trisha Bee. Like you’re this badass chick, y’know? I show you a cake that heals you, you come play pool with me. I show you a pool cue that can play a perfect game by itself, you ask if you can come over my house. I show you two mind reading asshole cats, you sleep over. I tell you my Mom was probably watching us sleep together, you say let’s break the ice.”

Flabbergasted, Casey flung his hand about, letting it slap his thigh in punctuation.
”Just… So fucking cool. It’s great.” he finished, trying to play things cool and collected.

Trisha blushed slightly at all the compliments, the little anxious feeling in her chest completely replaced by a warm swell. It was something she could never get enough of, the reason she’d always swapped from partner to partner when the last one left her. The reassurance and the compliments that helped her feel just a little good about herself. This was different from normal, though, normally it was all about her appearance, how attractive she was. She’d never been called badass before. It was enough that she could… not think too much about the slight pause after the word love. Maybe he’d just not thought out what he was going to say. Yeah. Had to be that.

”Well, I did fight a world ending snake when I was fourteen. Of course I’m even cooler ten years later. I’ve also had my fair share of family drama… Somehow mom’s side of the family manages to be as insane as the side with dozens of half-siblings. One of my cousins punched one of my uncles once for stopping him fighting someone on the street, so then his kids started beating him up.” Not that she’d actually witnessed that, thanks to living in a different country, but she’d heard of it from one of the few cousins she had some kind of contact with. “So this is nowhere near enough to make me back down.”

She smiled brightly, finishing off her coffee. It had been good, the whole breakfast was good, and she wished she could eat more. But while her appetite was probably bigger than expected, she was still quite small.
”I don’t think I can eat anymore… Thanks for getting so much. Uh, nobody’s gotten me breakfast like this before. It was really nice. Definitely gives me plenty of energy to face the day- With this I can protect you from anything they throw at us.”

Casey grinned at her, listening about the cousin and not backing down. He was excited to see how she handled herself today, especially when his mother could lay things on so thick. It’s like she thought everyone wanted to be special to the point that they were royalty… Maybe Trisha would love it.

Regardless, he began to tuck into the things she left behind, slipping the knife through a donut and laying the bacon inside before chomping down on the absolute worst thing he could eat on the plate. His face was happy as he munched away until nothing was left.
”Do you want to hit the gym before we go? Or would you rather skip it for the day? I wouldn’t blame you, seems like we’ve got enough to do.”

He plucked up the tray, leaving the orange juice and slam dunking the shot with a throaty exhale.
”You’ve got a little bit regardless if you wanna just chill out. I’ve gotta finish the laundry and fix Leon’s stuff after I broke the fixture last night.”

“No way am I going to the gym and facing your mom for the first time in the same,” she shook her head. Honestly, going to gym that early wasn’t her idea of fun… Well, watching Casey work out was quite appealing, but not so much doing it herself. If she was going to have to do it, she’d take delaying the inevitable one more day.
“I don’t have any gym clothes either- I’d trip over doing it in these.” To punctuate her point, she kicked up on leg, showing off the too large sweatpants she still had on. “I’ll just relax here until we leave.”

Trisha flashed him a bright smile, before her eyes half closed again. She’d take this short period to try to let her mind rest before what was undoubtedly going to be a stressful day. But it’d be fine… so long as they managed to avoid her side of the family. Dealing with one would be enough.



Trisha’s (Sabrina’s) House

After laundry was done and fixtures were fixed, it didn’t take the two long to get to Trisha’s place. It wasn’t a long drive, and Trisha had Casey park along the street outside of the gated house. It was too much hassle to get another car in there… and they wouldn’t be there for long. She shoved around in her pockets for her keys, which were all held together by a cute little bee plush keychain.

“I’m on the ground floor, so we don’t have to go too far into the house,” Trisha explained as she led Casey through the front gate, unlocked with a key fob, and down a short path to the incredibly fancy, three-floor house she shared with her sisters. She shook her keys at the front door, pausing before she unlocked it. If Sabrina was in… she really didn’t want to have to stop and talk to her. This was just a quick in and out. Get changed, pack some clothes, check on the bees, and then leave.

She reached out for Casey’s hand, grasping it tightly. It wasn’t like she could forcefully drag him if she had to, but… hopefully she wouldn’t have to. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

The massive living room was an absolute mess. There were bottles of alcohol and empty glasses strewn all across the table, pizza boxes beside them and on the couch, and evidence of at least on person sleeping on them. Trisha paused what had been a very purposeful walk in to just gape at it, squinting slightly. The bright white sofas and light themed decorations hurt her eyes slightly after growing adjusted to the gothic darkness of Leon’s apartment.

But, what the fuck had happened in there last night? Did Sabrina throw a party? Who had she had around to drink so much alcohol- sure, the four who lived here could go through that much in a night, but the other two were out of town… Trisha shook her head. She didn’t care, actually. At least there didn’t seem to be anyone around.

“Good thing we went to yours last night, and avoided all that,” Trisha commented offhandedly, while leading Casey further into the house. She took him down a hall directly opposite them, past a few closed doors and to one right at the end. There was a soft buzzing audible from about halfway down that got louder the closer they got to the room. Trisha once again shook her keys to find the right one, unlocking the door and pushing it open to let Casey in.

“Welcome to my home.”

The room was large, with the door they came in through in the middle of the wall. Directly to their right was a large, wooden bee hive. A constant buzzing came from inside of it, but there were only a few bees meandering in and out of it. The other wall it was against had a large window along most of its length. One of the topmost frames, a small square, was left open. Along from the hive and in front of the window was a large desk made out of light brown wood. It had two big computer screens on it, a desktop computer underneath it, and a notebook open over the keyboard with a bunch of scribbles.

Behind that, in the back right corner, was a queen-sized bed. It was high enough for there to be two drawers underneath it, covered in simple dark green sheets with a pile of about six pillows pushed towards one corner. The whole back wall was covered in tall shelving units. Some had books on them - a variety of mathematics textbooks, coding guides and mixed fiction - while others had storage boxes. Small plants decorated the shelves, interspersed with pictures. There was one of a much younger Trisha, with an Asian woman who looked similar enough to her to likely be her mom. The photograph had a clear coldness to it - Trisha’s smile was awkward, and the woman wasn’t smiling at all. But it had been placed in a prominent position, in the centre of a shelf. There were other pictures too - multiple of Trisha with a medium sized group of friends, Trisha with three other girls, one of the same group of friends in graduation gowns, and a solo picture of her graduating too. There was a distinct lack of family photos outside of the clearly displayed one with her mother.

In the left corner was a vanity table, with all sorts of makeup scattered across it. Along the left wall there were only a set of sliding doors, closed, and a slightly ajar door that showed a hint of a bathroom.

Upon entering, Trisha shut the door behind them, not bothering to relock it. Near immediately a couple of bees flew over to her, landing on her shoulders, from their right. She waved them away, consciously using her pheromones to stop them all from swarming her.

“Come over here, say hello.” Still holding Casey’s hand, she pulled him over to the hive. She carefully let her pheromones wash over it, soothing the bees and telling them that she was home. A group of about twenty came out, circling around her as if checking up on her, before landing on various places on her body. She turned to him with a warm smile.
“If you’re alright with it, I can get them to land on you… then they can get used to you so what happened yesterday is less likely to happen. I already let them know you’re not a threat. It’s pretty quiet just now because it’s winter, so they don’t have anything to do… Honestly, they all want to come out, but that’ll be annoying. It’ll just be a couple, but only if you want.”

Casey’s first impressions of the Vanburen house were good. It wasn’t like his Granparents’ house in New York, rather it was a dense little affair that didn’t spread across the landscape it inhabited. He found it comfy for how big it actually was, especially the three-floor height that loomed over the well manicured area. There were cars in the gated off driveway, so he understood why she didn’t want to bother having him find a parking space.

Nobody was going to break into his shitbox anyway, especially not in a neighborhood like this. Entering, he found the white and bright furniture reflecting the autumn morning’s light coming through the windows. It made the whole place feel like it was a big sphere of light, and while he found it easy to see, it wasn’t so welcoming. It felt too clean to sit on, or like it was made for display despite the food boxes stacked up on the table.

Her room was far more cozy, a single window behind the computer setup that he examined with careful interest. Casey’s eyes drew themselves to the books, and he grinned thinking about the fact that she wasn’t just cool in attitude, but cool in interest too. She had smart people books; the type of books he’d catch Junior reading, where there were formulas and math problems and the kind of technical jargon that made his ears ring.

But of course the show was the bees. The thousands and thousands of little girls he felt compelled to apologize to after his previous blunder. Casey had, before leaving, snuck a few fruits into his hoodie, as well as a small pill bottle filled with simple syrup.
He snapped one of the fruits in half with his bare hands, dumping some of the simple syrup on it and leaving it next to the hive before doing the same with the other half and repeating the process all over again for the other fruit.

”Think about this like it’s your first test of the day: Try and command as many as you’re comfortable doing, but keep an exact number in mind. We’ll see if you can control that many specifically. Don’t tell me.”

He dumped the rest of the simple syrup on his arms and held them out like he was going to hug the hive.
”Hi girls! I’m Casey… I hope we can get along, and I hope you know I’m real sorry about what happened last night! I can’t wait to see you guys moved to a place where you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll be sure to get a lot of flowers and stuff for you to rub your fuzzy little asses in… And bowls of fruit daily. You guys’ll love it, I promise.”

Trisha's eyes widened slightly, just staring at Casey for a moment in shock. He'd been stung by nearly a thousand bees yesterday… but today he was apologising to them and covering his arms with inviting syrup. She could sense the bees' interest, the ones on her moving closer to Casey until they were all gathered on one shoulder. At least the hive itself was stocked with honey for them to eat, stopping the whole swarm from coming out immediately to feast.

“They're going to like you better than me soon,” Trisha muttered, looking at the fruit. It wasn't that she was stingy with them, she just didn't make the effort. Getting fruit meant going to the kitchen or the shops, both of which came with interactions she couldn't be bothered with. Though the bees weren't actually bothered… it was endearing the effort he'd gone to, and the way he talked to them even though they couldn't understand.

“Alright, I'll try now.” She furrowed her brow and tried to quickly figure out how many she felt comfortable controlling. For a situation where she was having them attack something, thousands, close to the whole hive… but when it came to something like this, where she didn't want them to attack, probably… not that many. Not that many at all. Two-hundred. Anymore felt like a risk. “I'm going to try have half of them go on the fruit, half on your arms.”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, before carefully adjusting her pheromones. The precise number was weaved into the scents, and a command to come out of the hive nicely and split between the fruit and Casey's arms. Near immediately the buzzing coming from it grew louder. A large group of bees flew out, a mass of black and dark yellow. It split in two, half descending on the syrup covered fruit and the other half on Casey's arms. There were enough to cover the lower half of both of his arms - definitely way more than two hundred in total. Unlike the day before, they clearly weren't in attack mode- instead they started to suck up the syrup. It would feel like hundreds of little tickles all across his arms.

“Uhhh…” Trisha looked across all of the bees, lips tugging up into a smile at the sight of it before tilting her head up at him. “Do you want the number now, because I can tell you right away that's way more than I asked for."

Casey couldn’t help but giggle as the little bee feet and tongues lapped up the syrup off his arms. It was like being tickled by a thousand little feathers or something, each one independently controlled. It was impressive how much warmer his arms were with a mass of bees on them.
”Way more? That’s pretty funny, actually. From the two experiences I have now, it seems like you overestimate? Or overcompensate, but either way there’s something funny going on.”

He beamed at Trisha, ecstatic about the fact that he was having such a meaningful interaction with the bees. He made sure he kept his muscles loose and his heart rate down, but he kept twitching with each tickle.

”It’s stuff like this that you could impress Blinds with. People love stuff having to do with cute animals. Anyway,-” he laughed, looking around Trisha’s room while the bees went about their business. ”-whatever you need to do, you go for it. I’ll be here. If you gotta change, I guess I’ll close my eyes, or you can try having the bees give me a blindfold, that’d be a neat test. No possible reason they’d try to sting my eyes out of my head, right?”

Trisha shook her head at him, unable to stop her soft smile back. It was pretty cute seeing all the bees on his arms, so happily drinking away. She was being bombarded with content pheromones, increasing the warm feeling blooming in her chest. The fact she overcompensated with them… well, she could see where that came from. She didn't really want to think about it right now. Just enjoy the moment for now.

“I'm not making you a bee blindfold, I don't want to risk your eyes, then how will you see me?” Trisha joked, though she really wasn't confident in doing that anyway. They didn't see a threat right now and she was very calm, but her bees were used to being commanded to fight and attack and not much else. Maybe that was part of the problem. She gestured to the two doors along the opposite wall.
“I'll change in the bathroom, so just make yourself at home. The bees are happy enough you can probably move around with them.”

And she could sense their pheromones from anywhere in the room. After another quick check to make sure they were all behaving, Trisha went over to the sliding doors next to the bathroom door. She pulled them open to reveal a moderate sized walk-in wardrobe. The first half was visible, with two layers of racks with an assortment of clothes hanging from them. The open space between the actual storage went round to the right, where Trisha disappeared. What could be seen from the outside seemed to be sorted by colour, with some random exceptions here and there.

The bit Trisha had gone down into was messier. She'd gotten lazy with putting stuff away and ended up dumping a pile of clothes on the little stool she used to reach things she'd put higher up. She crouched down and pulled out a small suitcase from the very back corner. Honestly, she had no idea where they would sleep tonight but it was better to be prepared when she could be. She packed this first with a selection of outfits - more comfortable cargo pants and tank top combinations, a few nice dresses, a skirt, a hoodie and sweatpants, and some sportswear for the gym. She was quite efficient in her packing, managing to squeeze quite a lot into the small space before she was satisfied.

Then there was the question of what to wear today. Normally Trisha dressed for her audience. She had so many clothes not because she was into fashion, or even particularly cared about clothes. It was because she dressed to give a specific impression towards the people she'd be around. To her, it was just another thing to use to get the attention she craved. If she was dressing for an audience the answer today was obvious - anything black. The gothic aesthetic wasn't one she'd ever delved into, nor did she plan to, but she had plenty of black clothes. She could pull it off if she wanted to.

But that wasn't what she was actually going for today. She didn't want to fit in with a cult. The person she wanted to impress was Casey, not his mom and all of her followers. With that in mind, she took a few moments to pick out an outfit before nipping round into the bathroom to get changed.

“Are they still behaving?” Trisha asked when she came out of the bathroom after not too long. It was a complete change from the cargo pants and crop top she'd been wearing before. A loose, white blouse was tucked into a light blue floral print circle skirt. It fell to just above her knees, incredibly flowy, and she'd worn shorts underneath just in case she had to… run away from cultists or something. Overall it was very cute and very ungothic. She made her way over to the vanity in the corner, sitting on the stool in front of it.

“I only need a little bit longer,” she said, beginning to brush her long hair. After getting out all of the kinks, she pulled it up into a high ponytail, leaving a few shorter strands at the front loose to frame her face. Makeup would be next - normally she didn't wear much, she just didn't feel entirely comfortable going out without it. But she paused, twisting around to look at Casey. “Oh, I packed at least a week's worth of clothes… I figured it'd be useful to have in your car at least, if that's alright? I can leave it behind if it isn't, uh, if you weren't wanting, y'know, to stay together again tonight.”

Casey had been absolutely vibing with a few hundred bees wandering about on him. It was clear to see they were behaving just fine, and Casey was just lost in his flower child phase as he danced about with them. From the outside, it looked like he was imitating something, or someone… A dance he’d seen, the arms were outstretched at the torso like a T, and he undulated from one side to the other by bending his knees and twisting his torso.
Truthfully, he’d seen a gaggle of kids doing it, and was channeling his own inner child as he revelled in the acceptance of the bees.

He was doing the Stickbug Dance. With any amount of time on the internet, the mundane and innocent meme could be recognized from just about any angle. When Trisha came out to speak, he looked up at her like a kid caught doing something wrong.
”That’s a great idea, Trishabee. We’ll keep it in the car, and I’ll give you the spare key in case you have to make a quick getaway. Or if you wanted to keep it in the house that’s fine, I’m just thinking logistically…”

He looked at her with a great deal of admiration; she was very cute. He thought she was just… Just like one of her bees. She radiated in his eyes, and he felt the warmth of the bees around him.
”They forgive me I guess. I’m happy. Thank you, Babe… You take all the time you need.” he smiled softly, sweetly.

Trisha had recognised the dance Casey had been doing, which the bees had been enjoying a little too much. They seemed to enjoy the movement as they finished off the syrup on his arms. Now that it was done, some of them flew off of him and onto the fruit, some returned to the hive, and some continued to meander above his arms and up onto his shoulders. She stifled laughter, deciding not to comment on it… It was ridiculous and goofy but she actually found it quite endearing.

“If I was making a quick getaway, where would I be going except here, where the rest of my clothes are?” She asked with a light laugh, returning his smile with a warm one of her own before turning towards the mirror in front of her and starting to go through her makeup. A light layer of foundation was put over her face before she kept talking.
“They definitely forgive you. In fact, I think they quite like you… most people don’t approach them covered in something they can eat. Keep giving them fruit and they’ll choose you over me. I’m a stingy mom.”

Though, she was fairly certain the bees had forgotten what happened yesterday. They certainly didn’t know he was the one who’d reduced their numbers. But she wasn’t going to burst his bubble. She kept getting ready, not taking long just like she’d said. Some concealer on worse spots, blush on her cheeks, simple dusky pink eyeshadow and soft pink lip gloss. It took her less than ten minutes in total. Once she was done she picked up all of the products she’d used, along with a couple of more, and went to get the suitcase she’d packed. Makeup was haphazardly thrown on top of neatly folded clothes. She also grabbed a soft, navy wool coat and shoved her phone in its pocket.

“Oh,” she straightened up, and went over to one of the storage boxes she had. She pulled out a simple, sealed jar filled with golden liquid and held it up. “Should we bring some honey? Maybe it can be a peace offering if your mom takes one look at me and decides I’m not good enough- or a weapon, to be thrown at someone. Very versatile.”

She played with the jar in her hands, looking away for a moment. She was a lot more nervous about the first scenario happening than she was the more likely one - his mother trying to lovebomb her and eventually control her. She’d be able to handle that a lot better.
“Honey decision aside, I’m ready.”

Casey shrugged his arms a bit and giggled.
”However we handle this, I’ll grab honey and we’ll go. There’s a bunch of pastries in the back? I guess I can open one of the donut boxes and they can chill out in there? Or do you keep them in your coat or something?”
He did his best to waddle over to her, slowly waving his arms to give the bees a gentle rocking motion.
”But as far as you bugging out? I’m gonna talk to someone about this shit, try and find someone from the Corps who can protect you if I fail for some reason.”

“Normally they hide in my coat or my hair or under my shirt. They prefer being near me.” Trisha laughed as he waddled over, deciding to give him a break and asking the bees to get off his arms. The ones that were on his arms flew over and onto Trisha, gathering on her as she pulled her coat. They moved into her sleeves and onto her back, most of them hidden. A few of them stayed on Casey, seeming reluctant to leave. She rolled her eyes at them, but let them be for just now.

“I- Thank you for thinking about that,” Trisha said softly. She closed the remaining gap between them, hugging him and pressing her face against him. The remaining bees on him crawled onto her shoulder and into her ponytail. “Hopefully it doesn't come to that… I'm sure just being with you is a father wolf deterrent. He seems to get people when they're alone- I wouldn't want him to get you either.”

She shook her head, letting go of him and stepping back. The thought of Father Wolf getting her, or getting Casey trying to defend her, wasn't a pleasant one. She'd been trying her best not to think about it, and everytime she did it made her nervous- well, beyond nervous.
“It's nice to have someone who cares that much- but I don't want to dwell on that danger, let's go face a slightly less murderous one- sorry, I shouldn't say that about your mother…”

Casey openly laughed.
”Oh, very dangerous. Once watched her beat Leon with a book of poems for like thirty minutes, and he never picked his hands up to her. Foot and a half taller, hundred fifty pounds heavier, and he just took the beating. That’s power; that’s danger.”
He shrugged, hugging her gently and making sure he wasn’t too tough on the bees. It was a bit of a nightmare, not wanting to scuff them up at all.

”You’re like a walking hive; it must be a nightmare if you accidentally fall over.”
When he let her go, he swung around the corner and looked at the stack of custom wooden boxes she had for keeping the honey. It was fantastic that she had this much, and he imagined her sitting around listening to music while she emptied out the grubless combs and getting the jars all sealed in a boiling pot of water.

He pulled the top crate off the stack and held it in his hand. A dozen jars, sixteen fluid ounces a piece, he figured he was carrying close to forty pounds between the honey, glass and wood of the box. No trouble, it was like a couple cans of ammunition. Just like a box of grenades, he slid it up onto his shoulder next to his head.
There was space for it in the back of the car on the seat opposite the pastries, and he pulled out a donut to eat while they continued their drive.

From Trisha’s house to the opposite was a twenty minute drive around the perimeter of the city, the highway forming a bubble around the outskirts consisting of four sets of off and on ramps serving as the gates in and out. They took the last one, and ended up in a forested suburban area where the homes became older and the spans between grew longer and wider until it felt like they were nowhere at all.



Temple Holy Ground

When it felt like reality was gone, and like there wasn’t anyone around for miles, there was a road. A road with a sign that was a little sun rising over a forest. Gold and orange and white colors, no words or lettering of any kind breaking it up.
It was like a summer camp. At least, until the gate. It was open, there wasn’t any sort of post or anything, but it was clearly a gate and a fence, and they weren’t just chain linked. Metal, with inverted slopes that were dotted by knife-like barbs packed tightly in clusters along the edge. Truly hostile architecture, designed to warn outsiders that it was not a place they were welcome.

”Dad built the walls in a day. The property is roughly six hundred acres; its close to a square mile of protected rural space interspersed by buildable zones. The back area has aura gates that can sort animal from man, so they don’t let people in through the property but the animals can still move freely.” he smiled as he thought about it, his hand leaving the wheel to point into the woods around the road.

”Out there, you see ‘em?”
There were deer out there. He slowed down enough to let her see them, and it became much more clear that they weren’t normal deer. Their antlers were dark, burnished metal that matched their eyes and noses and hoofs.
”Those are project deer… The agriculturalists are working on a project trying to figure out what sorts of extra-dimensional livestock we can replicate here in our world. Their bones are this crazy organic metal.”

“What the fuck? They made them?” Trisha gaped at the deer, leaning closer to the window to get a proper look at them. Outside of the Stygian Snake and all of its minions, she’d never actually seen anything from another dimension. And all the apparitions or similar she’d encountered were… quite frankly, horrible. “Their bones are made of metal? Does that make them super heavy?”

”Yeeeeeeah… They’re beautiful, but they’re not doing so well. Apparently where they come from, the gravity is real low. See how they’re so tall and lanky?”
He pointed at the bull of the group. They were far away, but they were essentially twelve feet tall without the antlers.
”I guess the metal is from their diet, but they developed it because the normal calcium bone structure is actually too weak to keep them together. They did some kind of fucked up experiments I guess, like tracking their evolution through some crazy Pink/White spells. Imagine seeing like, millions of years of evolution that you have to parse out? We have some serious eggheads behind these walls.”

He sped the car up again, finally taking them down the lane to the cul-de-sac that served as the gathering quad for the Temple’s various facilities. Half a dozen buildings of various aesthetic and size shared parking lots on both sides of the ring, and a big chapel style building sat at the back center. It was up on a small hill, looking down on the other buildings like a looming parent.

Casey looked at the radio clock. Close to ten in the morning. Most of their fellow twenty-somethings were either at their jobs already, or still sleeping, so the area was mostly empty. There were a few younger men tossing a football around in one of the grassy areas, and the first blatant display of magical usage as one of them snagged the ball away from another in a burst of light.
There was an ensuing argument as the car pulled into the spot. The manoeuvre had blown the ball apart, so the game was clearly over. But they saw Casey pull in, and they began to approach them. Casey smiled and waved, speaking casually to Trisha as he put the car in park.

”Ah, some slaaaaves.” he giggled, looking over at her then back. ”They’ll take care of the food and the honey, and I don’t even know their names. They know me though!”

And they did. As he got out of the car, they started babbling at him about one thing or another as if he remembered that they’d spoken previously. They probably had, so he played along until they finally got to the point and helped take the pastries into the great room.
By that time, figures had gathered up at the top of the hill at the door of the chapel. For the first time, Trisha Vanburen’s eyes would be able to meet the piercing blue eyes of the captivating widow known as Lynette Richoux.

Her long hair was tied in a single thick, braided tail that fell around her front. She was holding the end of it in her hands, playing with the split ends at the bottom of the braid. She was wearing some kind of robe with multiple scarfs, and some hanging gold baubles that danced about her hidden knees.
At her side, there was a young woman who looked like she was trying desperately to be Lynette’s twin. She had twin tails, loose closer to the head and tight at the ends in triple spools. Both were raven haired, and she had the same piercing blue eyes.

Casey gasped.
”She’s not wearing fuckin’ black! My Gods, is it all ending?”
”I can fucking hear you Casaeu L’del… You know we’re approaching the Solstice.”
”No, Mama, I think you just didn’t want to intimidate your new best friend.”

Casey reached for Trisha’s hand. It shook a bit, even though he tried to hide it by squeezing her hand harder. He may not have sounded like he had a problem talking with his Mother that way, but the physical sensation was completely different.
But he looked at Trisha and he smiled, dropping his head slightly with a laugh. He nodded up a bit at the impending.
”C’mon. Lets do this together.”

Kenshiro

Mentions: Kari Wilson | Direct Dialogue: Drake Blackmore, Auri Auclair/@Punished GN, Aryin Thorne/@NoriWasHere | Location: Kari's Grave > Kari's House

The last few days had been Ken spending time with Jack and a few others to discuss ongoing plans. Many people in the Coven were classically unprepared for just about every way for any kind of conflict, and it consistently amazed Ken that they managed to do what they did at the age they did it. Even if his clan had trusted him to be a man at that age, knowing what he knew now, he was still a child. It was a problem now, as they were being grounded in batches it seemed, but there were over a hundred of them back in the day, and sixty losses had a decade of mourning and a victory under their belt to soften the blow.

It wasn't all for naught. But this was different. Kenshiro Murakin had experienced loss upon loss stacked high on top of one another like salted pillars that sucked the moisture and warmth from everything. Four days ago he'd come home from another fruitless trek to claim vengeance and found nothing but disaster waiting again. Even as he tried to parse it together, the only things left were anger and anticipation. He hadn't even given himself time to register what things meant until he found himself at Kari Wilson's grave, weeping like a helpless child. In his hand, a hand woven wreath made of the most incredible kinds of feathers he'd found in the last six months. Every time he came home, he brought her another creation involving their shared love of the beauty that came from avian creatures. Even things that weren't necessarily birds; if it had feathers, chances are there was a majesty to it that no other creature could capture with fur or patterned flesh.

Their relationship had been... Slow. Ken was difficult to be with, given how long one could spend without him. When he had initially come to St. Portwell, the two of them had bonded over shared experiences of the Allverse. Though Kari couldn't travel there on her own, Ken had always promised to take her once things were over. There was a particular realm that she'd had visions of, and Ken had made frequent passage through its jungles for supplies needed by the Gama pact. Dennu'ba, the Banded Worlds. But duty called, and life went on.
He returned to his clan, and Hannako filled that part of his life. They married, and it wasn't long before their child was due when everything happened. It was a four year gap... But when Ken came back to St. Portwell, he found that Kari's feelings hadn't changed much. It only hurt more now, knowing that he never even got the chance to make things up to her. He was too wrapped up in himself, and she understood and accepted him despite it all. Even when she deserved better. And the dream had left him in the worst kind of mood, and reminded him only that something awful was happening.

He was sobbing. Utterly sobbing over her body buried six feet beneath the soil. Stones and rocks and loose headstones bubbled upward into the sky little by little. His sniffling voice spoke up between the tears.
"I-I-'m... So... Fucking..."
He thought about when he got back, how she showed him her project. What she'd been working on. She said she was onto something. At that point, his own desire for information and revenge was so strong that there was no way he was going to tell her that what she was digging into would probably just lead to suffering. That hunting entities and kicking rocks over looking for ghosts involved with the Stygian Snake was just a bad fucking idea. How could he be a hypocrite to her? So he praised her. And now he had the chance to consider something. The idea that she had opened the door for something that never should've come, and that they were all in danger because of her actions.

Ken tried to tell himself that it could've been anything, and that there was only so much time before someone or something came for revenge themselves. Their own sick revenge for a twisted monster who deserved what it got... But they were the same kind of monsters to some other dimension. These things weren't able to be reconciled, and it was a pointless exercise to try. All it did was make him empathize with her more.
"P-pl-e-ase... Come back... Come back! I can't... I don't-want-to... Be..."

Alone. Nobody was in the graveyard at five in the morning. Nobody but Kenshiro Murakin and his regrets.

The break of day came with the sunshine and voices. There was no way Auri was going to be the first one to the trough when it came to Kari, but he didn't want to rain on her parade either. He was tucked up on the roof, hearing her approach a little while ago before more began to trickle in.

He was going to interrupt when Drake called Kari "some dead chick." He found it disrespectful, but that's a part of who Drake was. Hot-headed, callous on occasion. Definitely quick to respond with instinct. They weren't so different, he and Drake. But, Ken had been trained to be patient for other things, and had found that it was applicable training to his normal daily life. So he waited further, until Auri dropped that Lyss Burns had been killed under their noses. It was that same feeling all over again, except now it was starting to get old. He wasn't sad, now he was pissed.

He let his body roll off the roof, fingers twisted into the soma for Enlighten, and he hit the ground with an unnatural lightness that masked almost all the sound of it. He was dressed in full kit: a black gi and matching trousers, the old wrapped up socks and the sandals, a vest that had a thousand different pockets and a belt with a similar setup. He had a headband, his channeler, with the stains of his companion's blood still changing its purple fabric into a deep brownish black, as well as a scarf. He jingled with chainmail padding beneath his gi.

“I’ll still help you look, I just want clarification."
"Hey now, be respectful of her things. And Drake, she wasn't just some chick... She did a lot for us."
Ken's eyes scanned the gathered, and fell on Britney and the Noble Vow. Quite the piece of hardware. His family's own sword, the direct family's sword, not the super important clan sword they failed to defend, was strapped to his back. It was massive, just as tall as him; a Nodachi field sword. There were two others of varying sizes tucked into and tied in his belt. He was clearly ready for violence if it were to come.
"Otherwise, yeah... Just looking for any sort of hint or clue that'll put us on the right track."
His head turned to Auri.

"Do you want me to get the key?" he asked, thinking about the last place he remembered her keeping the spare.
VS
Sycamore VS 8th Street

Mentions: In Collaboration with @Punished GN & @Atrophy | Direct Dialogue: Leon Richoux, Kenshiro Murakin, Drake Blackmore, Vashti Nour, Emily G. Reed, and Guest Starring: The PRA | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District

"You know what? Fuck the Chalice. Fuck those sluts, and fuck you! I've had it to here with you motherfuckers!" Emily hissed, slamming a foot on the ground. "You won't be lonely in hell..."

Typical Emily G. Reed. Won't back down.
The effect of Enlighten was still applied, and as Babylon's flames hurtled toward Ken, his hands rose and folded themselves into a casting position. The flames licked the cape of his costume, but before he could flinch, he saw a target and took it.

The spell was instantaneous, and quiet as a gust of air. In the blink of an eye, the place where Ken had been standing was empty. In his place, a jack-o-lantern from the nearby pumpkin carving stall fell from chest height. It was consumed by the flames before it even hit the ground.

Now Ken was standing on top of a plastic table, his near weightless body having adjusted to meet the pumpkin's hollow heft. In that moment, he saw a shadowy figure bolt through the conflict to snatch the chalice away.
He had to trust that they were friends of his, and not friends of hers…

But of course, the Murasaki Gang never ceased to disappoint. Jack Hawthorne was on the case, giving Ken the confidence to stay in the fight while he knew that good, responsible hands were taking care of the business…
His only concern was for what was on the other side of the conflict: If Jack would be able to handle whatever was on the other end of this.

No time, she's coming again…

Emily teleported behind Kenshiro in a burst of fire, and she had a smile on her face. Both of Emily’s hands went up towards Kenshiro, as two spiraling infernos of screaming faces came out of both of her hands as he would likely only have moments to react. The environment was lit up with hellfire and the faces and screams of the condemned.

Ken took the last deep breath he was going to have time to, he assumed, for at least a few seconds. His hands swept toward his chest, and in an instant he was engulfed in the Hellfire before a vibration noise echoed from inside the inferno.
All at once, the fire and Emily were pushed away from Ken, revealing a rapidly expanding bubble of Purple-Lux filled air. Telekinetics were only complicated if you didn’t know what you were manipulating, but the simple practice of creating solid surfaces from thin air meant you learned how to focus on the molecules. It was, after a point, like scooping water from a river with your arm.

The bubble of force dissipated into a fine mist, wind pulling itself back toward him as it rushed to fill the void. He’d learned to form such a thin layer of air against himself that it was like being trapped in a latex suit, even woven beneath his clothing. As the air hit the frozen cloth again after being trapped in such a void, it instantly condensed into icy moisture that made him and the area around him shimmer like a rainbow.
His fists were drawn outward, back hunched as if he were ready to charge whatever was ahead of him: The Ten Ton Endless Defense

His leg pivoted, spinning him around like a top to face Emily again without his posture changing even slightly. He said no words; only screamed the Gama battlecry as his hands formed somatic runes in perfect unison. Tucked tightly in his hand was the bark that he’d gotten from Auri’s store. Gold Lux arched through the air: War drums resounded in a chaotic breakdown as holes opened in reality. Ten brightly colored tree frogs acrobatically lept from their holes, robed in clan garb with the Tenno clan’s symbol emblazoned on their headbands.
”Tenno Scout Assassins, get her ass!”

“This is the best you got…?” Emily tilted her head. She simply snapped her finger, before a wall of burning hellfire appeared in front of her. Incinerating the frogs like they were nothing, she put a hand on her hip as she said, “You were talking sooooooo big just a minu-”

However, she missed one of the frogs, and they leaped at her… hopping directly at her stomach as she attempted to create fire. It exploded directly into her torso, and she let out a wretched heave of air as she was launched backward. She went directly into a stall and gritted her teeth as she slammed her fist onto the ground.

”Friends who are willing to give themselves for a greater cause!”
Kenshiro’s fingers were a constant flicker of movement, and he swapped places with a piece of the stall that she’d been knocked into. His hand lashed out, grabbing her by her shirt and hoisting her up so he could get a good angle to drive his fist into her gut. At the same time, his forehead was rapidly approaching her face to smash against it.



Leon had to take a moment to remember who was talking to him. The makeup and the hair threw him off the otherwise waifish figure of Aislin Rose. She looked fantastic in the goth aesthetic costume she’d decided upon, and if he wasn’t so fixated on what had just happened, he probably would’ve stuck around to chat her up. But there was something screaming in his head. He gave her a brief wave, a cursory We’ll catch up soon. and flitted off.

As the Conga-Toga began to dissipate with the absence of the Chalice, Leon Richoux had something altogether different on his mind. He knew getting into it with one of Emily Reed's main squeezes was the last thing they needed as a Coven. They needed to be united in solidarity: a group like they had been before.

But his mind was not the same as it once was. Leon had become a far less measured and repressed individual when Lelou had come into his life. In a perfect example, as he stumbled away with his toga still clinging to his naked body, he was in pursuit of a fruit so forbidden that God would probably cause another great flood if Leon found himself successful.

Lelou obviously knew from the second Vashti Nour's pheromones entered her host's nasal passage that The Leviathan was lurking. It put every single sense in Leon's body on a razor's edge. She was screaming at him to follow Vashti, to take what he deserved and feast upon the remains.
She was, if anything, a simple spirit. Lady Lelou didn't want for much in her fleshy prison, and so long as Leon was fucking, fighting or feasting, she was generally amicable.

But moments like this, where he was fighting her desires and losing, were like watching his parents fight as a child all over again. Leon wanted to hide, to run, to not do what was about to happen next. He didn't want to fight for what he wanted if it was stupid like this…

And just where the fuck is she even going!?

“Vashti! Vashti, c'mon girl wait! Why rain check it, we can go back to my place right now! Emily doesn't have to know!” He called to her, desperation in his voice as he felt the seals to Lelou's magic vibrate with ominous sensation.

Vashti had taken after Emily like a heat-seeking missile. She swung her arms with so much gusto as she marched forward it was as if she was in a fist fight with the rain, which nimbly and uncannily dodged and ducked round each blow, not a droplet getting on her skin or her toga as the drizzle amplified itself into a proper shower. Her mind was a bloody blender of the things she dreamed of doing to her so-called bestie that once again had jumped up and spiked the basketball away from the net when Vashti was about to score. Her blitz forward came to a sudden screeching stop as Leon called out to her, her head snapping back to look at him with so much speed it was a wonder she didn’t break her own neck from whiplash.

“E-E-Emily doesn’t have to know!” said Vashti. Her voice was sniveling and frantic, mocking Leon as she squeezed herself together and posed like the centerfold model in a cheap, dirty magazine. She began drawing the toga up her thigh as she breathed heavily and gyrated, her other hand toying at the cloth over her chest. “Wow. I didn’t even consider that, bro. What a big, strong point from such a big, strong man. Well, if Emily doesn’t know then…”

Of course he begged her for it. It was only natural. Everywhere she went everyone was always begging to her. Please please, don’t stop, you’re wonderful. Please please, stop it, you’re hurting me. Please please, I’ll give you what you want. Please please, just take what you want, oh god, please. Please please, my life is nothing without you. Please please, I just want to live, oh no, please, jesus, fuck, oh no, please, please, pleeee— Frankly it was all so fucking annoying. She did what she wanted. Emily didn’t control her. It was just by happenstance that what she wanted aligned with what Emily thought she was allowing Vashti to do. It was a good relationship. It worked for the past ten years for a reason.

Vashti continued the champagne room theatrics as she approached, staring Leon down through hooded eyes, her tongue tracing the sharp edges of her teeth. There was still something about his pathetic desperation that she found enticing. Part of her wanted to just take him up on his offer. Another part of her wanted to toy with him like the stupid mutt he was and pretend to throw a tennis ball just to watch him chase after nothing. But ultimately, as a flash of distant hellfire sparked up in her peripheries, she decided to for once adhere to the rules and follow the law of chicks before dicks. Emily was in trouble and if something bad happened to her then Vashti wouldn’t be able to fucking murder her later.

“Tell me, Leon,” said Vashti with a practiced moan as she got up next to him. Her right fist tightened as she moved to place her left hand on his chest to misdirect. Thunder rumbled above them. He could probably take one punch, right? And if it killed him, well, there was always that loser with a dead wife. She looked up at Leon and batted her wide, dark eyes where something sinister lurked just beneath the surface, her hand readied to strike.
“How bad do you want it?”

It’s going to hurt us.
And we both want to feel the claws gripping and ripping…
No, I mean pursuing this will really get us hurt.
Your arguments are not persuasive. I wish to feel the pleasure of your flesh: Do not defy my desire!

Lelou couldn’t help but be aware of Leon’s own desires. The impacts. Crater-making love taps. But the ancient spirit of power and domination didn’t much care about origin… She only thought about the violence. Extreme violence.

Leon’s body reactively unsealed Lelou just a bit more, edging closer and closer toward something bad happening. He couldn’t tell if it was his own reaction, or if it was instinct. Things slowed down. He could hear Vashti’s muscles tensing, smell the anger mixing with the ozone as the storm began to pump thunder from its clouds. She didn’t want him around. He got that. But, now he almost felt like…

The fist hurtled toward his gut with almost no lag time or startup. He’d never fought a boxer with that kind of speed and power, but if he had he’d have assumed they were magic. Mankind could not produce that strength with anything short of machine enhancement, and he knew that didn’t exist yet.
But Leon Richoux was still a champion boxer. Despite what others said, the Richoux were not cheaters: Skill came naturally, and they simply augmented such when the times were necessary. The natural inclination to be able to feel the violent urge in a particular area and remove one’s vitals from it… It was a warrior’s instinct.

Leon’s torso, and the thin cloth he wore, narrowly avoided a near fatal blow at clench range. He did the only thing he knew he could do as a student of Soviet Boxing: He clenched her. His massive arms wrapped around her frame and clung for dear life.
”No the fuck you don’t!” he yelled.
In the split second after, Leon accepted what was happening. They were in a fight now, and Lelou would have what she wanted no matter what it seemed.

Still in the clench, Vashti met his strength with a surprising move: He was holding her so tightly, he almost didn’t have the time to let go as she bridged her back and tried to drive his head into the ground like a tent peg. By the grace of God, he did let go. And rather than be turned into a new ceremonial light post on Cracker Island, he was flung like a man-sized rocket through several stalls. He almost certainly hit people, but he couldn’t help being surprised about how little they were doing to break his momentum.

A flash of lightning streaked across the sky as the storm expanded, the smile on Vashti’s face stretching wide as shouts of panic or pain erupted like a heavenly chorus from the unfortunate bystanders that Leon had been sent through. Crouched low, she bounced excitedly on her haunches at the bodies of unfortunate festival goers struggling to stand. Her eyes shined as she hungrily looked upon the hapless victims. They didn’t look like people. Rather they were simply appetizers in a buffet line of carnage she could sample on her way to the main course that was crumpled beneath a mess of canopy and broken wood. The urge was overwhelming. Go on. Give the revelers of the Halloween Festival the scare they had all mistakenly thought they wanted. Everybody loved a little massacre.

Unfortunately, she would have to disappoint.

Vashti spun on her heels, chunking little splinters of asphalt and gravel as she pulverized the ground with a punch. It would have to do as a makeshift surrogate for her want of destruction and the things she envisioned doing to Leon’s body. He had pleasantly surprised her in the way he had evaded her, and in how for the slightest of seconds she felt a sensation of delightful lightheadedness as he squeezed the air out of her chest. She imagined he could even pop her head off if he hadn’t been holding back. The idea sent shivers down her spine as her fist hit the ground three more times in rapid succession before she sprung forward and darted towards where she had last seen Emily.




”Friends who are willing to give themselves for a greater cause!” yelled Batman as he hoisted Emily up by her dragon onesie that was scorched and steaming with hellfire..

Ken was about to be reunited with a friend of Emily’s who always did just that.

”You stupid fucking cunt!” shrieked Vashti, thunder clapping with her outburst, as she grabbed Emily. The next time Emily told Vashti that she couldn’t steal something she was going to tear Emily’s voice box out of her throat. She violently yanked Emily free of Ken’s grasp, tearing some of the fabric on Emily’s stupid costume as she roughly shoved her to the ground. She paid Ken no mind, her wild eyes glaring at Emily with a murderous intent that her friend had become quite familiar with throughout the years. Vashti was a rabid dog when it came to anyone else, but with Emily she was never anything more than the occasional nasty bark. Even in her anger, she was protecting her bestie—if anyone was ever going to harm a single hair on Emily’s head, cut off her nose, pluck out her eyes, crush her stupid fucking skull into powder and pulp then it was going to be Vashti. Nobody else.

What else were best friends for?

The blows meant for Emily landed on Vashti instead. It was like striking iron. Due to her not being hoisted, Ken’s gut punch hit a little higher and harmlessly hit Vashti right in her chest. His forehead cracked hard against her own. It made her blink, nothing more. Her eyes finally focused on Ken as he stumbled back from the recoil of the strike, her rage blinding her and preventing immediate recognition. Seething with anger, she looked down at where Ken had struck her and then slowly looked back up at Ken, her pupils becoming narrow slits.

“You punched my boob?” said Vashti, almost as if she was unsure it had actually happened. Her breathing leveled out, the swelling storm calming and becoming an almost pleasant ambience. She shook her head, blinking rapidly. For a moment her eyes returned to normal. “Ken, you punched my boob!” She turned to Emily, throwing her hands out to the side. She began to giggle immaturely. “Did you see that, bro? Dude’s a fucking pervert!”

Emily had teleported right next to Vashti with her hands on her hips. She grinned like the devious monster she was as she glanced at Vashti - keeping one eye on Ken. “... I think his journey through the All-Verse made him just a little desperate.” She chuckled before she stuck her hands out and flipped her palms upwards, creating a flaming torch in each hand “Don’t worry, I’ll burn his hands off so he’ll never touch another woman again! And then everything else afterward, so now that you’re here, Ken...”

“...a bit drastic, Em…”

Emily glanced at Ken and asked “... How many ways do you want to die?”

Ken gave the two women a wide mouthed grin, his body twisting into full defense in a gentle and purposeful stance. His hands swept in front of him in a slow arch, air circulating through the thin walls of Purple Lux as he breathed in and out with great purpose and intention. His mouth moved behind the barrier, but the noise was halted in the tremendous pressure until it burst from behind the veil.

”A billion, and a billion more! Break beneath a Ten Ton Hand!”

His hands were underneath so much weight and pressure that they began to blur light around them, the magic channeling through his taijutsu gathering in strength as they caused more and more of a rattling racket. They drew up, trying to keep Vashti’s focus.
Emily very quickly became a secondary problem: Emily would kill him, but Vashti Nour would probably play with his body, and Ken wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Avoid, if possible.

A foot and a half in the ground, forty or so yards away from the current conflict, a body was stirring. He was covered in blood, people were screaming: Nothing he could do now. He had to stop whatever the fuck was happening. He could hear someone. He knew he could hear it. It was Kenny… Kenshiro, the Vengeful Toad. And… Emily? Vashti…
Leon could hear every bit of it as the seals in his body loosened. The toga was gone, just like his dignity as he rose up to see the chaotic scene in front of him. His hair had already grown pale white, ghastly in its silhouette, and his muscles bulged from his frame with unnatural size and thick black veins.

His eyes were stark black. He could feel the transformation coming.
Just don’t hurt him.
The Toadman!? Disgusting magic resides! I will taste Babylon!
No, no! Leviathan!
It’s old news!
Please… Please, my Love…

Leon’s bones began to grow, splitting and reforming and splitting and reforming until it halted partway through… Leon’s mutated form had grown another foot, and he was a solid juggernaut of muscle now balanced on the tip of full transformation. His body was under great strain, but Lelou was cooperative for the moment.
He’d be able to hold it…

Leon’s half-conscious body turned its head to the broken Blinds in its wake, licking its cracked and bursted lips with great hunger, a carnal moan escaping its throat with a guttural growl.

”Lucky morsels…”
He’d landed in a food stall, and the body dipped its hand into a hot fryer to shovel the basket of steaming french fries into its gullet. It didn’t even chew; the fries didn’t last more than a moment in the stomach.
It was still holding the fryer basket, its head cocking and turning to where the fight was. It threw the fryer basket faster than something like that was ever meant to be thrown, dipping into a sprint to chase just behind it.

“Ken, the hand thing isn’t helping, bro. Ken. Ken!” Vashti blew a swathe of curly hair out of her face. She didn’t want to have to kill Ken, but the performance piece was starting to get on her nerves. Could he not hear her? Sighing deeply, she pointed at Ken with one finger, then her eyes with two, before (with a look of uncertainty and a cock of her head) holding her fist up towards Ken with her palm facing him, then finally taking her fist and jerking it back and forth through the air. She began to mouth something, the words cut off as her head turned to the side and her eyes widened.

The basket crashed through another tent, caving itself into a pancake against Vashti’s face as her head snapped back, the momentum of the hit flipping her off of her feet and knocking her to the ground. The Beast was right behind it, mid-air and feet first like a spear thrown by God toward Emily’s chest. However, Emily raised a hand in the air and created a searing wall of fire that was imbued with the burning, wailing, faces of Babylon’s victims, with Vashti’s screams from the fry oil that had splashed in her eyes providing the overdub. She quickly teleported some distance away, hoping that the bastard takes the hint.

Vashti was quickly back on her feet, her screaming muffled by hands that so aggressively tried to rub the oil out of her eyes it looked as if she were gouging them out, her body jerking back and forth. The screaming morphed into guttural snarls as she raked her claws across her upper arm, four thin lines of blood appearing as she focused on the newer, lesser sensation of pain. She opened her eyes, the whites now red and bloodied, the pupils once again razor thin slits, a strange kind of viscous black liquid dripping from her tear ducts. She wasn’t quite blind, but she had been robbed of the pleasure of viewing Leon in all of his glory. The world was a blur of rain, smoke, swirling reds, and shimmering silhouettes.

She raged. It didn’t matter who against—Leon, Ken, Emily, a nearby asshole stupid enough to pull out a phone, anyone. She would make spooky, scary, skeleton sashimi out of the entire Halloween festival if she could. She just wanted to rip and tear. Vashti turned to the nearest shadow in the rain and began a relentless onslaught. Her claws flashed through the air as she swung in a wild frenzy with one hand, the other hand returning to her eyes to continue to vigorously rub them in a desperate attempt to regain all of her vision. The inky sludge smeared across her face like warpaint, her teeth gritted tight like a vise, a call from the depths to kill-kill-kill overriding any other instincts. She swung, and swung, and swung, and swung.

Someone, or something, dove in the way… piercing through the thick fog was some blue-white light as Vashti’s strikes began hitting against something solid enough to tank the hits. However, out came an explosive force that would have knocked Vashti off her feet… and stepping through the fog, holding his Thunderguard Shield in one hand and a beer in the other, was none other than Drake Blackmore, reeking of alcohol. He downed that bottle of beer, threw it on the floor, and then raised his hand in the air, and a bolt of lightning fell from the sky and hit him in the hand—taking the shape of a javelin as Drake shouted.





”... NONE OTHER THAN ZOOS HAS ARRIVED! ALL YA’LLGO HOME!”


Then he turned to Kenshiro, giving him a shit-eating grin.

”... I GOT THIS!”


The Beast’s entrance had been dodged by Emily, touching off flames that sputtered against Leon’s body and caused an automatic fear response that saw the brutal thing dive in frantic panic. A freakish scream of panic and pain echoed across Cracker Island with fierce abandon, heralding the arrival of Drake Blackmore.
Kenshiro watched it all take place: Leon’s fear response, Vashti’s pain response. The two were on a collision course that he frankly wanted to happen: It was the only way he was going to be able to focus on Emily without Vashti being an ever-present wall. He knew in his heart that he couldn’t fault her; that he’d do the exact same thing for someone like Auri.

Except Auri Auclair wasn’t a raving cunt.

But as the two blind monstrosities were poised to begin flailing at one another with rage and malice, the heraldry crashed from the sky to reveal the Lord of Lightning himself. Both beasts were flung hard from the impact, with Leon tumbling back into the dark of the very quickly clearing festival grounds. Ken couldn’t drop his guard with Emily still around, but he sure was thankful that the Murasaki Gang was in full force tonight… Even if he could smell the booze on Drake’s breath from here.
It explained Leon getting involved too; the group of them were always close: Drake, Leon, Sully and Stormy… Stormy hadn’t been there? He wasn’t here now to help with these Abberants that were running amok?

He tried to remember where he saw him…
With Luca! Fuck!
”Blackmore! Behind you!”

“Seriously, look out!” screamed Vashti, holding her right shoulder that had become dislocated from how hard she’d striked at the Thunderguard Shield. She jerked back on her shoulder with a sudden twist as itsnapped it back into place with a loud pop, her bloodied eyes rolling into the back of her head in ecstasy as she let out a satisfied groan. Her eyes leveled back on Drake, focused like a predator ready to pounce. She smiled, “It’s your fucking bitch wife! She’s getting railed by Father Wolf again!”

”... I’m going to make you regret being born,” Drake hissed, as he prepped to toss the Lightning Javelin at Vashti…

There were no words from the mouth of the Beast wearing the remnants of Leon’s skin. Only howling. Only snarling. It kicked its massive distended foot through the ground in a single minded attempt to clash with its primary target again.
No, no! It’s Drake! Don’t!
No? Don’t? You saidLeviathan! Too late now!

The two minds were not united: The original input fell through.
I miss my collar…

… Before Drake had a chance to smite Vashti like the Thunder God he was, Leon came charging and knocked him over. Slamming him to the ground as he got the wind knocked out of him. The lightning javelin disappeared….

“... Don’t think I forgot about you, Kenshiro,” Emily said, as her body ignited like a torch through the raging storm… She could be seen from every direction, as she approached him, before she stuck her hand out, “And I’m going to make sure there’s nothing left for them to remember about you!

Out of her hand came a massive explosion of hellfire in which the goal was to throw Kenshiro off his game. Make him teleport to dodge… then she would be right on top of him.

Ken didn’t hear Emily anymore. He watched Beast Leo-Lu drop Drake to the side. He needed help, and Ken had to think fast. There was no way he’d be able to do it and get out of the way: Feet planted, he released the force in his arms as a powerful telekinetic burst that whipped up a small whirlwind around him. The flames began to fill it, setting the tents and other loose bits of rubble caught within ablaze.
No pots, no scrolls, no hourglasses, no-

It was too late. The flames were on top of him, and he had no other choice. The gesture for Send and Receive, and the sensation of feeling behind it, were burned so deeply in the fabric of his mind that he sometimes found himself waking up with his fingers entwined in it.

Enlighten was in its last few moments. He was the weight of a pumpkin. There was nothing around.
There was nothing around.
Kenshiro tried to imagine what ten pounds of air looked like… And just like that, he vanished from the center of the flame. He was now falling from midair at a height of just over fifty feet. At least nothing was attacking him anymore…

The same could not be said for Drake. After he was bowled over by Leon, Vashti slid by the charging Wolfman and pinned Drake to the ground by sitting on his chest. The flickering flames of burning tents cast shadows across her face as her grin widened to the point where it was threatening to tear. She placed her hands over Drake's nose and mouth, slowly applying pressure as she rocked his head back and forth.

“What was that bitch’s name, bro?” hissed Vashti as she began grinding Drake's skull against the concrete. “Come on, speak up. Or am I already making you forget her?”

Drake let out a few very angry muffled words. Then electricity surged through Drake’s body as he activated the electric-aura. He managed to throw Vashti off of him as he laughed.

”... You forgot I could do that dumbass!” He laughed.
He stuck his hand out as he attempted to create an electric-blade, only for the attempt to shake rapidly as it eventually fell apart.

”I forgot about-”

Emily G. Reed came from behind, firing a blast of fire that hit Drake in the back. Sending him back to the ground. She grinned as she walked over to Vashti, offering a hand.

“I’m still mad. You suck as a wingwoman, Em,” said Vashti with an exaggerated pout as she pulled herself up with Emily’s help.

The storm surged and the wind began to howl, whipping up the flames that surrounded the scene of destruction. Vashti’s eyes narrowed as she turned her attention back to Drake. The night hadn’t gone the way she had wanted—she couldn’t have imagined how wonderful the evening would truly turn out to be. Vashti cracked her knuckles over her head while stretching out her back as if she was just warming up for a gym session as she readied herself up for round two. Blackmore was about to find out that she could go all night.

“Come on, bro,” said Vashti to Emily, giving her a wink. “Let’s fuck him.”

Emily immediately projectile-vomited.

Please… Please, My Darkness… We don't have a lot of time…

Lelou didn't argue. As much as she enjoyed the senseless back and forth that the group was participating in, she knew desperation. She loved desperation; hearing the strong man beg for control… She would let him have it, knowing that she could send them back into chaotic non-focus at any time.

Beast Leo-Lu was mid trot on all fours like a half mutated wolfman when the body locked up. Leon came into consciousness over the scent of fire and flames, and his heart began to race as he hunted for them.
He couldn't deal with Emily. Not the fire. He released a great beastial howl that echoed across the island, seals in his body adjusting and focusing power, concentrating him as his body shrunk and grew into a more comfortable, less freakishly proportioned form.

Ken knew that howl. He'd heard it a dozen times participating in the Blood Nights, helping the Temple wrangle Leon during his full moon tirades. He'd assumed control, and was functioning on his own willpower for now. That was big for them.

Still tumbling from the sky, Ken's fingers came together for another spell. Gold Lux shimmered across his body.
”Hazy Doppelganger!”
Instantly there were half a dozen Kens, the result of the spell shunting him to the right as the doppelgangers formed on his left.

They were entirely optical illusions meant to throw Emily off the trail of which was real. They all rotated their hands slightly.
”Enlighten!”
It was only to bleed momentum. They caught wind like a bunch of airborne papers fluttering in the breeze, their falling momentum stopped instantly. Emily stuck her hands out, sending out a wave of fire at the illusions… and once the fire faded, it turned out that she was attacking nothing but an illusion. She hissed out of anger.

The distraction was enough to give Leon time to adjust himself and make a motion. His body moved so quickly it formed some kind of afterimage as Leon wrenched a piece of concrete from the ground when he stepped off.
He knew Vashti would react and respond… He just needed to fight her. They needed to exhaust one another. He needed to release himself.

Seven foot tall boxers didn't make it long. They were always too slow, too weak. Gigantism wasn't a good trait for a combat athlete, it left your heart overstressed and hypertrophic, your bones desperate for nutrients and weaker than the norm.
Leon didn't have those problems. He'd learned the importance of deadly accuracy, and of shutting things down with overwhelming force.
As his form skipped across the ground, it left little holes where his feet had impacted to press off again. In an incredibly erratic pattern, Leon found an angle.

He grabbed Vashti's hair, yarding her up and off of Drake to hang in mid-air for a moment before trying to juggle her with his fists like it was a video game. Vashti twisted like an aerialist performing in a big top as she was tossed into the air, swinging her claws down to catch Leon with a diving slash. Her blurred vision had begun to clear and her eyes widened with a mix of surprise and intrigue as she finally witnessed Leon in his full glory. Her mouth, formed in an “o”, began moving to yet again curse Emily’s name, the slurs cut short as she was fed Leon’s fist by his outstanding reach. Her head cracked back with a horrifying snap as another fist caught her in the gut and propelled her back up. Shouts from Vashti for Leon to stop became sharp, sudden, and staccato cries of pain that sounded like a sledgehammer playing an out of tune piano.

The combo was only broken when Vashti was caught off-center by one of Leon’s ferocious lefts and by happenstance, as she was corkscrewed through the air to the sound of the wind howling “KO!”, avoided one of his hammering rights. She landed at his feet on her side and rolled onto her back, her finger dragging across her forehead as her arms splayed out, the slow rise and fall of her chest the only sign of life. Suddenly, her breathing stilled as a stream of dark blood began to drip from her head and pool on the ground. The storm rumbled as the rain continued to pour down its eulogy, the runoff of the rain parting its way around Vashti’s body as a sign of respect, keeping her blood unsullied by the rainwater. She looked dead.

She was merely playing the part. Her eyes, still and lifeless, watched and waited for Leon to move closer. The pain that coursed through her body was pure heroin, elevating her into a state of nirvana. Maybe Leon could actually kill her. The thought was so exciting. Shit like this was what she lived for; nothing else compared. Was Leon a kindred spirit? There was only one way to find out.

She saw movement and striked with sudden swiftness as she returned from the dead with a jerky, convulsing motion as if she had just been smacked with a pair of defibrillators. She scrambled quickly on all fours, her black hair hanging over her face, the blood still dripping from where she had sliced her own forehead to look like she was more injured than she actually was, and lunged at Leon.

Her claws looked to snake behind, slash through his Achilles tendon, and bring Leon down to the ground. Only then could she find out if he could handle being on her level. However, Emily was aiming another hand at Kenshiro to unleash a blast of hellfire, she grinned… But, she was hit in the back with an arrow made out of lightning. She violently convulsed as she fell to the ground, then turned around and faced Drake Blackmore standing on top of a stand, holding a bow made of lightning. He grinned.

Ken matched Drake’s smirk, all five copies of himself hitting the ground.
”No chance you have those things up that naked ass? No matter: We need to do something to bring them all down! Come on, let’s put our heads together, Brother!”
There had been infrequent moments where Ken was successful in compiling some semblance of a spell outside of his studies. Typically, they were collaborative efforts that attempted to bind together the skill and power of two Adepts at the same time.

He’d played around with a lot of titles: Combo, Fusion, Finisher… Nothing ever stuck, so he was left simply to name the combinations one by one. Drake was just as flashy as he was about these things, so the name for their particular ability didn’t disappoint.

”Lux Union: Doomsday!”

Before the two, Emily G. Reed seemed to be moving back in for them. However, Leon and Vashti were on the ground. Ken didn’t like that. He knew how Leon fought these days, and he knew how Lelou the Apparition fought. Whenever he ended up at some kind of great disadvantage or in a situation he felt he wasn’t suited for, Leon almost always resorted to letting himself go.
Zero self control? Or zero sense of self preservation? Ken never quite knew, but he did know what was going to happen regardless. He knew that Leon wasn’t an ally for much longer.

The Wolfman’s back hit the ground as Vashti hooked into his Achilles tendon. All at once he felt the burst of ligaments tear from the flesh of his bare naked leg and rip up the back of his thigh like the worst hangnail he’d ever had. No matter how quickly Lelou’s energy replaced the cells, no matter how dull and numb his nerves were, one didn’t get out of feeling something like that. Vashti didn’t relent as she locked up with the future corpse, her claws poised to pick his flesh clean from the bone.

In the short time that the body took to collapse the wound and regrow the components, it experienced its own full collapse. Close to eight feet of wolf and man came crashing to the ground with a yelp, and its eyes rolled back into its head so hard that the retinas tore and began to bleed from the sockets.
Sweet Pup… You’ve gone and done it again, and now we’re almost out of time. Only one way to fix it… Hand it over.

The body’s flesh boiled and burbled until it split and ruptured in a mass of mutating muscle and fur. The arms and the head first, lashing out and grabbing at Vashti with quickly growing claws of its own before the woman could even finish uttering an, “Oh, f—”. It was animalistic, dragging her and snapping with its wolf-like maw. Twin tongues curled upward as it snarled and the lower body carried on with the rapid endgame transformation.

The seals were quaking. Leon couldn’t mentally sustain his control through the immense pain. Only she was used to it; only Lelou Faim. Only the Ravenous Queen. Even Vashti had begun to test her line. Her vision fizzled and popped like old film coming off the reel, shots of visceral red carnage spliced with blank screens of white hot pain. The only thing holding the scream in her throat was the blood running down it as her teeth sliced open the inside of her mouth as they pinned down her tongue.

Vashti’s vicious strikes became a series of mistimed parries and counters as Lelou savaged her. Even without the rain touching her, what remained of Vashti’s toga was absolutely soaked, the thin white linen hanging heavy with a mix of Leon’s and her own blood. The only thing stopping Lelou’s hungry jaws from tearing out her throat was Vashti using her own left arm as a chew toy, her skin flayed raw. She wasn’t going to survive going blow-for-blow fighting one handed. She gritted her teeth as Vashti delivered a series of hard, seemingly ineffective knees to the Wolfman that would’ve caved in the chest of anyone else.

In an act of desperation, she stopped defending herself from the slashes, eyes rolling as she felt his claws slice across her stomach. She jammed her right hand underneath her left arm that was trapped in the jaw of Lelou, breathing in sharply as her palm sliced its fangs. Her muscles bulged, crimson rapidly cascaded out of her forearm like a creaking dam moments away from wiping out a quaint, riverside town. Vashti managed to roll herself and Lelou in a way to find some leverage with her feet. A low, guttural sound was dampened by explosions in the thundering sky overhead before becoming a scream that drowned out the storm.

Bad boy, Leon! Bad boy! Vashti began to push her forearm up into Lelou’s jaw, sinking the teeth in further as she grunted. There was no fear in Vashti’s eyes as they widened and bulged—only the thrill. She latched the fingers of her right hand behind the bottom row of Lelou’s teeth. Vashti gave the creature that was once Leon a ruby red smile as she leaned in and whispered in its ear, her voice warm and inviting.

“Howl for me.”

Lightning flashed as Vashti twisted her right arm and jerked down with all of her might, looking to completely tear Lelou’s lower jaw clean off.

Meanwhile, Emily flicked her hand, and it ignited like a torch as she stared at the two… she could only grin. “Doomsday? How fucking corny could you two get?!” She seethed as the fire grew brighter and brighter. “Hit me with the best you fucking got! It still will be nothing-

A massive figure falling from the sky and crashing in the distance between Emily, Kenshiro, and Drake interrupted Emily. The ground shook, creating a massive splash of water and disturbing dust and dirt. A silhouette could be seen through the chaos, a tall, broad-shouldered figure that turned towards Emily… When the smoke cleared, it was none other than Maximilian Cornell. Except dressed as the Blue Ranger.

“A-mazing!” Meifeng Liao walked up, holding her PRA badge in the air with Cindy Keagan at her side…. She probably looked ridiculous wearing a Maid’s outfit. “I turn my head for two minutes, and you get into another fight Ms. Reed.”

The fire faded out of Emily’s hand as she pointed an accusatory finger at Kenshiro and Drake, shouting, “They attacked me!”

“Sure they did...” Meifeng rolled her eyes, before turning to Vashti duking it out with Leon. “... Is Ms. Nour fighting a goddamn werewolf?” She tilted her head.

“Maximilian,” Cindy said.

“On it,” Maximilian flew between the two and effortlessly pushed them apart by sticking both of his palms out. Pushed away from its prey so easily, The Beast had managed a total physical reformation. It came to a skidding halt, falling backward into a still burning tent set ablaze by Emily. There was a moment of panic as fur caught alight: Still covered in fryer grease mixed with rainwater, the slick undercoating went up in a blaze of glory.

It began to howl, jump around, flail and panic and scream. Ken watched it all happen as he stood with mouth agape, but he couldn’t stop. He’d promised Lady Lynette that whenever he was around, he’d be there to help them with Leon’s condition. He’d come to learn and appreciate the Beast’s quirks, and knew of particular techniques to put it down.

But he didn’t waste the opportunity to point an accusatory finger at Emily G. Reed.
[color=7B81B3]”I don’t know you! If you’re not here to put that thieving cock-goblin to justice, then butt out of Coven business!”[/color

With lightning speed, his fingers flicked together, and he was replaced in his spot by a puff of flames and burning fur as he replaced a section of air with himself. He hung in the air above Leon, and all at once a massive static bubble formed around its flailing mass.

This technique only worked if it was distracted like this. Usually bullets, or magical fires similar to this, were used. And then, it was a matter of following the Beast. Ken could tell it was already tired, so when the last bit of oxygen left the bubble and the flames snuffed out, it only struggled for a moment.

In its typical grotesque nature, the body melted away to reveal the host beneath a mound of oily flesh. Face down, ass up in the dirt with perfectly unblemished skin, Leon struggled for oxygen as he woke up once again in the middle of a vacuous bubble devoid of air and pressure. With his last bit of consciousness, he spun and looked up to see Ken, the source, and threw up the double peace sign.

He was in control, and Ken couldn’t help staring down at the dong. He looked back at Drake; also in a toga. The bubble disappeared, and Ken smiled, turning his head again to look at Leon as he panted and regained his breath. Ken ripped his cape off his back and threw it down to his fellow Coven Member, covering him up.
”Now, maybe I’ve been gone too long, but you’re cops? Another group of pretend heroes come to St. Portwell to ’Liberate us from danger’? If you’re not here to arrest a thief, just pack up now.” he called out to Meifeng and her badge.

“I’m so happy to see you, bros! Those men were assaulting us! I'm terrified to think of what they would’ve done to us if you hadn't intervened,” said Vashti to Meifeng through crocodile tears. She put a still bleeding hand to her forehead and stumbled closer to the bulky blue ranger that had absolutely manhandled her and Leon. “Oh! I feel faint! Somebody help…”

She closed her eyes, twisted, and fell backwards against Maximilian in a trust fall, essentially forcing him to catch her. She cracked one eye open, mouthed a ‘sup’ at special agent hunk, and went limp. Obviously, protocol would call for immediate mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

”Oh, I would not be getting either of your heads near that mouth my friend! As the Frog learned the Scorpion’s nature, so too will you recognize the nature of a Crocodile.” Ken scoffed as he saw his rival’s blatant display of manipulative behavior. He simply didn’t approve.

“I can handle her!” Maximilian said as he caught Vashti and gently placed her on the ground.

“Thieving!?” Emily put both of her hands on her chest as she loudly gasped. “What the fuck did I[ steal?! You two assholes came and jumped me.” Then pointed at Kenshiro and Drake.

Drake put his fists on his hips in a heroic pose as he said, ”... I honestly have no clue what’s going on.” He shrugged, ”I just saw my bro getting jumped and couldn’t sit by while that happened. Bro-code. You wouldn’t understand.”

“‘Pretend cops’?” Meifeng scoffed as she cracked a grin. “Unfortunately, ‘Coven business’ is superseded by ‘PRA business’, so I don’t know what’s going on here, nor do I know why it’s going on. And I don’t care.”

She crossed her arms as she put the badge away, “The fact is, you five are causing a huge scene with magic. And it’s my business to keep magic a secret. I don’t care what Emily G. Reed did. I don’t care what you did. The Sycamore Tree and 8th Street Covens have consistently been a pain in my ass since I was stationed here - but let me stop here.”

She cracked a wry grin as she said, “So, in the interest of my day off remaining just that, I’m asking you all to cut it out.”

An exasperated sigh came from the ground where Vashti laid, waving her hand dismissively. “Yessssss, mooooom. We promise to never defend ourselves ever again, mooooom…”

”Typical law and order types, wouldn't bust a ball to actually enforce a thing besides the status quo. You're no better than the Clan authorities who aba-”

Kenshiro was interrupted. Leon's voice simply cut louder.
”Save it for people who care, Kenny. They're federal agents.”
Ken furrowed his brow.
”Boogeymen? While our people die by the half dozen and nothing’s been done about it!? Well, thanks to Emily G. Reed, our friend's magic c-”
”Kenshiro, please stop talking to them!”
”Emily G. Reed deserves to be trapped in the core of our planet, but the authorities here just consider all of our problems pesky? Then they're choosing laws to enforce, and they're no better than spineless roadmen.”

”No, Leon!” Drake raised a hand, as he softly said, ”Let him cook…”

“And no one has made any attempt to explain to me what in the world was going on here…” Meifeng pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head… before she raised her head and faced Kenshiro, narrowing her eyes, “If you want to talk about ‘choosing laws to enforce’-” She finger quoted. “-then I should be hauling all of you to jail for causing such a destructive fight.”

She let her words hang in the air, “But, I’m not, but booooy are you making it tempting…”

Emily took a step forward, pointing at Kenshiro, but facing Meifeng,

“What happened was… I was in that stupid toga line, they handed me that stupid trophy cup, and I decided to go to the bathroom; then this asshole pops out of nowhere and demands I give up the cup as if I stole it! So I did since it was an honest mistake! But then he started getting aggressive, and I had no choice but to defend myself! His friends hopped in, but then my friend Vashti…”

She glanced at Vashti on the ground, before facing Meifeng again… then tears started running down her eyes.

“... Came to my defense! You see, Agent Liao! You saw how that psychotic-bitch Lila attacked me! These bastards have always harassed me! Ever since I was a little girl, they have shown me no peace! All because I had a problem with how they operated back in the day!” She wiped the tears off her face… however, she was still soaked from the rainwater.

”I refuse to sit here and be lectured by some Slag with a badge. If you won’t arrest a criminal, I won't recognize your supposed position of authority. Fuck off and have a terrible night, I hope Father Wolf shits on your lawn.”
Ken looked at Leon, then over at Drake.
”I'll see both of you Brothers soon.”

Ken had places to be, and at this point finding the Chalice was a job for Jack. He was on the case, and Ken trusted him to get it done. He bent at the knees, and in a surge of energy, he launched himself once more into the air like a mortar out of the tube, headed for what he knew to be Luca's last known residence.

“Hmph,” Meifeng shrugged. “Well, have a nice night, you.”

“I’m leaving! I can’t take this anymore!” Emily bawled… before she turned towards Drake and Leon and wiped the tears from her face as she grinned ear-to-ear. “See you and your little Coven soon. Real soon. Tell Lila to have her affairs in order because who knows what’ll happen.”

That was when she walked over to Vashti, knelt, and grabbed her by the arm, trying to pull her up, “Enough with the theatrics; let’s go! I’ve had enough of these retards.” She spoke to Vashti in a hushed tone.

Vashti jumped to her feet, trying not to giggle, “Bro, don't say that!”

It left Leon and Drake to deal with the aftermath. Leon's equal skepticism in the federal authorities was only bolstered after they managed to shoot him in the head with a teargas grenade. He gave a look at Drake.
”We'll leave. I'm fairly certain all we really care about is The Chalice's recovery, and if Emily doesn't have it, then Emily doesn't have it. Can't arrest her with no real evidence…”

Meifeng stared at Leon for a few moments before she said,

“... Thank you.”

“Yeeeeah, thank you Leon!” shouted Vashti, suddenly ambushing him from the side. She striked suddenly, booping him playfully on the nose and retreating back to Emily's side. She wiggled her fingers at him as they departed. “We’ve got some unfinished business. I'll see you soon.”
@Estylwen
Another wonderful collab. Sorry for my absolute SLUGGISHNESS.
VS
The House VS The Temple

Mentions: In Collaboration with @Estylwen | Direct Dialogue: Elise Richoux, Andrade Salamente, Bahlaas Rill | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District

Mia had been allowed to wander off with Elise staying behind to wrap things up and get everything cleaned and prepped for transportation the next morning. Lynette had returned at one point to collect the proceeds for the day, and to be her usual love-bombing self whenever wads of cash were involved.

Furio too had absconded, probably to go and help with the merch booth that was most likely in need of his strength. Andrade was toiling away, washing dishes and packaging pans up to be brought back to the Temple’s kitchen. The pair weren’t often in the same place at the same time, but didn’t lack for things to talk about.

The topic was sustainable farming. Not in the traditional sense, but farming of Apparitions. The discussion of enhancing the Cult’s intake of Andrade’s unique productions was always one of Lynette’s big talking points in any meeting, and so efforts were always being made to expand things.
So when they were rudely interrupted by the snarling beast that leapt upon Andrade, panic was the first thing that went through Elise’s head.

Andrade, however, wasn’t worried. He came from the old days; the times when a Hellhound or two could be found roaming the Temple’s property. You may have to deal with a bite or two now and again.
He didn’t panic. He didn’t scream. He clenched his jaw and grunted in pain as the teeth sunk into his arm, but he knew that laying into it was a useless waste of energy. He had to wait for Elise to manage it herself.

Elise backpedaled slightly, but finding herself unassailed shifted her focus. She had to help, and it had to be done now. She channeled every bit of Orange Lux she had to activate her Channeler’s enchantment.
One sister’s gift to another was a best friend: One who would comfort and listen to her wherever she was. Mia had enchanted all their childhood toys and animals; but this one became her Channeler. An artifact all its own.

"Enchanted Forest Friends: Mondo!"

The bear came alive face first, its magically enchanted form lurching forward and grabbing ahold of the hellhound by the neck. The bite was loud, crunching bone popping as Mondo came to full size; a typical female blackbear, assembled of patchwork fur that came from multiple repairs over the years.
It growled out at the death of the Hound, stomping its paw and roaring. Andrade forced himself up, quickly going for a cloth to wrap the wound.
"Alright, what the fuck is up? Did I give someone a bad kebab?”

Elise held her ground, deep breathing having cleared her mind and steadied her hand.
"I… I don’t know. All I know is that I must’ve missed something… Get behind us, Andrade."
He was holding pressure on the wound in his arm and didn’t have many other options. He found himself grateful to his young defender.
"Just keep breathing, ‘Lise. Get us to the Merch booth… ”

As the hellhound fell limp, it disappeared in a puff of smoke. There was a distant howl, a roar of indignity, of rage as the bear claimed its first strike.

The shadows shifted around the Temple's booth as something made its way for the next strike. The wind stirred, tension hot.

Then, a flash of red eyes as three hellhounds leapt through the darkness and over the table. One sank its teeth into the neck of the bear, ripping wildly. One aimed its barred maw at Elise, attacking her leg. The last again aimed its attack towards Mr. Salamente, teeth primed to sink into his other arm.

A three-pronged attack. Yet something felt as though the hellhounds were holding back.

Waiting.

Mondo roared despite having no pain receptors to feel the bite with. It wasn’t pain: It was panic. The false musculature of the enchanted beast reeled back with utter disregard for its own safety, sending the one latched onto it flying away in a puff of torn cloth and bloody cotton that jettisoned from the open wound. Its massive paw, crystalline claws fully extended, drove into the side of the dog attacking Elise.
The thing disappeared in an instant huff of smoke, the claws having ripped its caved in chest apart.

Elise was bleeding now. It wasn’t a light bleed either. She wasn’t sure if the thing hit an artery, but she could feel globs of the warm red lifeblood surge out from the bite wound with every rapid heartbeat.
Mondo felt the weakness of its Mistress, sluggishly batting the dog on Andrade with a similar result. The third was still alive, and rather than go in for another attack, it began to circle the ruined tent in anticipation.

Neither Temple Members hesitated. Mondo lurched forward, shoving a table out of the way as Andrade used its sturdy but fluffy body to stand back up. Without both of his arms, it was all he could do to run for safety. He did, and didn’t think about Elise Richoux or what sort of trouble she was going to get into. He knew he didn’t need to.
Elise Richoux was, after all, right behind him as Mondo slowly began to pass him up. She was clinging to the bear’s back, moaning in pain with each lurch as the wound in her leg ripped little by little. She knew it’d be too much weight for Mondo if they both got on, so as they came side by side, Elise reached her hand out and grabbed Andrade’s jacket.

In one smooth motion, she slipped off the bear, the momentum flipping Andrade onto the things back.
"Go! Go get help!” Elise shouted, hitting the ground and failing to stand again because of her leg.

“Not so fast!”

From the shadows emerged what appeared to be a woman in a flowing brown trench coat, barbed wire circling her hat. A menacing, glowing red smile stretched from ear to ear as the thing appeared to stare hard at Mr. Salamente. Growling from the shadows emerged five more hellhounds, surrounding the bear, its charge, and the girl from all sides.

By now the crowd had noticed what all the ruckus was. Some were watching with mouths hanging open. Others were screaming. Some turned tail and ran. The woman paid them no mind, instead focusing its attention solely on Mr. Salamente and the girl. She stood confidently behind her hellhounds, drinking up the suffering she could see painted in their faces.

“You're not going anywhere until you give me what I want!”

With a whistle, the hellhounds lurched forward, ignoring the girl and focusing their attack wholly on Mr. Salamente and the bear. Two snapped at Mr. Salamente's ankles, trying to pull him off. The three others, plus the one from the previous attack, snapped at the soft fluff of the bear's neck, shoulders and arms, shaking with their teeth vigorously to let loose some chunks.

Mondo wasn’t a match for all of them. However, it had been taught well. Its master understood priority action, and the beast followed suit. As the dogs snapped and ripped at Andrade, who simply grunted and did his best to punch and kick the dogs away, Mondo dipped to the side and forced its legs upward, tossing Andrade a few feet into the air. The bear rolled, crushing one of the dogs under force and mass, and caught Andrade in the crook of its belly.
A second roll pinned Andrade underneath it, the girth now blocking most of his vital organs and the head. Feet and hands were still exposed, and of course the assailing dogs tried ripping him out from under the guardian by those exposed limbs.

Andrade could feel his fingers being torn away at the bone… But he wouldn’t yield anything. He’d die in the light of Paradise. Elise, however, was not so content to let this happen. With Mondo active, there was a short distance where she could continue to cast her spells through it: The acrylic nails hanging from the tips of her fingers… They weren’t organic, they were objects, she knew she could affect them, it just meant… It meant getting into harm’s way herself. Her neck for Andrades. She tried to wonder what her Mother would say; if that would be a worthy sacrifice for the light of Paradise.

"Begone! Begone and die!”
A classic combat enchantment rocked across Elise’s nails, hardening them into sharp steel claws that gripped tight to her fingers. The magical aura cascaded from them in ribbons of orange while white fog began to coalesce around the woman. She was attempting to gauge the entity’s strength through aura reading White magic, but wasted no time surging forward to catch one of the dogs off guard.

What Elise would have picked up was a huge source of power in the bulge of the smiling woman's shoulder, threatening to burst. She would have also picked up eyes. Eyes everywhere that could see.

The blade-like nails pushed through the dog's ethereal body easily, causing it to go up in a cloud of smoke. Mondo took the opportunity to spin, catching another dog off guard with its battering ram paws that crushed it into banishment.

The remaining dogs simply stared for a long moment, along with the woman. Staring in disbelief.

Disbelief that quickly turned to palatable intel. The woman snapped her fingers, and the remaining dogs slunk back, never breaking eye contact with the bear.

She eyed Mr. Salamente under the bear, and her wicked smile widened. “You don't have it. Shame…”

She took a step back, waving with smug satisfaction. “Be seeing you.”

And, one by one, the dogs vanished into smoke, followed closely by the woman. Elise, Mondo, and Mr. Salamente were left alone in a half-torn up Temple Booth, at the shock of onlookers.

Not a single blind attempted to help: The two looked like they were playing make-believe or taking drugs or… Whatever it was, to a Blind it was pure crazy. Like nothing had happened despite the destruction of the tent. Elise was embarrassed, but even worse she was in fear. Andrade was bleeding profusely. She had to make sure he was safe, but she had to get him help.

And there was never a Doctor when you needed one.
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