Atrophy

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

@EstylwenWhile it's your call if Sloane's curse would even work on Alizée, Leon will be successful in disarming her so feel free to have the curse immeidately drop so Alizée can go full Pinhead on our favorite Werewolf.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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Interactions: Edict@AtomicEmperor Ruby@Shin Ghost Note Anya @Fernstone Alizee Deux@Estylwen
The House on the Hill

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Sully would say everything was going well for a Coven meeting. Sure, sure, Linqian was going off on Anya and showing that Sycamore, as a whole, lacked cohesion. Sure, sure, Layla must’ve taken too big of a rip from Aislin’s bong before the meeting that had sparked some kind of panic attack, spouting out what sounded like harebrained, paranoia induced conspiracy theories. At least Sully assumed that was the case, unable to imagine that Layla was willfully deluding herself to the point where she’d just ignored Alizée’s attempted kidnapping of Jess simply to stir shit. Worst of all, the pizza place had totally stiffed them on those little yellow peppers that come on the side. Still, nobody had pointed a magical sword against anybody’s throat and the pistol had been put away instead of placed against a head so, overall, pretty good. Ruby was even busting out the weed. Maybe she’d share it for once.

Across the bar Sully heard someone quietly cough.

"Now, I do wanna ask: If y'all already shacked up with 317 and The Temple? And you claim the kill for the nastiest Nazi on the west coast since Walt Disney? Th'fuck do you need to get wrapped up in our business for? Lynette put you up to it or something?" said Greyson.

Sully heard another faint cough as Greyson lit his cigarette.

“You cut that cigarette with more than tobacco, Greyson? She doesn’t have anything to do with Greenwood, man,” said Sully after Greyson finished, confusing the Lynette that Greyson had been referencing and jerking his thumb towards Dominguez. “Anyway, Ruby already said why they’re helping us out. Greenwood’s good people. And Sycamore might be a little disorganized, and maybe some people can’t stand each other, but from what I’ve seen Sycamore’s good people too.”

Mostly, anyway. No point in highlighting that though. Sully wanted Greenwood and Sycamore to work together. He couldn’t understand why Linqian and Greyson would go out of their way to point out that Greenwood was definitely getting the short end of the stick here. If Sully took a moment to look a little bit deeper, maybe he would’ve realized that Greenwood lacked something that Sycamore had: numbers. Only a fraction of the Coven had bothered responding to Auri’s call to arm, but they still outnumbered the Greenwood Coven nearly three to one. After all, Greenwood’s greatest accomplishment—taking out Das Sonnenrad—hadn’t been achieved on their own. That was something that Sully didn’t know.

However, Sloane knew. She coughed again into her fist, annoyed that the others were smoking indoors. 8th Street also claimed to be responsible for the destruction of Das Sonnenrad, but Sloane was aware they had outside help. She just never got an answer as to who the help was until now. She wondered if it had just been an “enemy of my enemy” situation, or if Greenwood’s roots expanded further beneath 8th Street than that. She leaned over to Anya in a move that looked as if she was going to say something secretly disparaging about Linqian.

“Greenwood’s worked with 8th Street,” she whispered so that only Anya could hear.

Perhaps it meant nothing.

Perhaps they were being played.

Sloane raised her hand again, waiting her turn.

“I get why you’d be suspicious of others, Greyson, but there’s no hustle here. If people don’t want to return the favor after Greenwood helps us settle our problems that’s no problem. It’s an alliance, not a takeover. You’re free to scurry back to run whatever legitimate business whenever. It’s cool, man. Th others will help,” said Sully, turning his attention to Ruby as if he was trying to convince her this was true. “We’ve all had a rough go, but when times get tough Sycamore always pulls through. This is the best for everyone here.”

Sully mouthed “trust me”. Before he could continue his appeal, he was interrupted by Sloane. “Excuse me, I have another ques—”

Sloane coughed, this time involuntarily, as a wisp of smoke tickled her nose. Okay, fuck this tact nonsense. She had managed to keep her cool when Linqian had pointlessly gone off on Anya and she had chosen to ignore Ruby’s eye rolling, but smoking inside was an unforgivable transgression of a shared space. Her head snapped between Greyson and Ruby, unable to determine who to bury under a mountain of shame, when her vision was drawn towards Jack as Sully hollered out, “What the hell is that?”

Something thin and skeletal ripped out of a portal and grabbed Jack by the collar. It started to speak, but its words were lost to the sound of blood pumping in Sloane’s ears as she moved to defend one of her few friends. Her sometimes annoying, boundary ignoring friend, but a friend nonetheless. A growl in her throat erupted into a roar as she grabbed the Chrysalis Staff.

“Can we not have just one,” Sloane screamed, turning towards the apparition as she jumped form her seat.

“Normal.”

Her chair clattered to the ground.

“FUCKING!”

She pointed the staff at Alizée.

“MEETING!?”

A swarm of spectral, blue butterflies burst from around the Chrysalis Staff, crystalizing instantaneously and crashing upon the ground where they shattered into a fine powder. The tip of the staff pulsated between a dim blue and orange light as Sloane tried to curse Alizée, wisps of orange light leaving trails of blue lux crawled around Alizée’s body like larva. As long as the staff stayed on the apparition, assuming it could even work on one, Alizée would begin to feel her body start to harden and become more and more difficult to move until she would be turned into nothing more than a colorful statue.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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Interactions: Ruby @Shin Ghost Note
The House on the Hill

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While everyone else seemed worried about Luca, Sloane was worried for everyone around him. The conversation Sloane had with Luca in the park the other day had rooted a new fear inside of her, adding another worrisome weed to her already overrun garden. She felt her hand go numb from how hard she was gripping the Chrysalis Staff. She planned to stasis Luca at the first sight of any abscission. Curiously, the tip of Sully’s squirtgun did not show any signs of decay even before Stormy moved to intervene with his Lux, and while Luca’s hand moving to caress Jasper’s face caused her heart rate to spike there was no body horror to follow.

Her grip on the staff relaxed as Luca gave her a thumbs up, the momentary wave of relief replaced by a quiet anger as she shook her head at him in disapproval. The urge to unleash on Luca for acting so foolishly as well as on that idiot Sullivan for his failure to act immediately thus prompting Luca to move bubbled up to her lips. However, the presence of Greenwood kept her tongue in its place. If they wanted this alliance to work it was then best not to immediately pull back the curtain and reveal that Sycamore wasn’t a cohesive coven that could offer Greenwood something in return but rather a bunch of rowdy children in desperate need of a babysitter. Did Sloane even want to work with Greenwood? Maybe. It depended on if they were going to be more eyes to watch out for Father Wolf and 8th Street or just more voices blocking out any good ideas by contributing to a wall of sound.

Sloane turned sharply and returned to her seat once it was clear that Sully would continue to tend to Luca until he was one hundred percent. She grabbed the Quill, which had run out of page and started to take notes for her on the table, and set it on a fresh page in her notebook, keeping her hand on it to stop it from writing over on the table again the next time it ran out of space. She took control of the pen to write down a series of reminders for herself—one to learn more about the crystal that had been in Clancy’s chest, two to learn exactly what Clancy was, and three to see if Luca would be able to get her in contact with Carol—and then let it resume its autopilot as she listened in on the others replying to Ruby.

“Yeah I got a question,” hollered Sully from the back with his mouthful of pepperoni pizza, having apparently abandoned his healing duties the moment Kashmira moved to take over. “We got any red pepper flakes lying around here?”

Sloane sank down in her seat and gripped the bridge of her nose as one of the ancillary Greenwoods pointed him to the pile of packets. Stormy asked the obvious question more diplomatically than Sloane would’ve: what’s the catch? Sloane was all for altruism but highly doubted anyone other than herself who ever showed it. Greenwood surely had to come with some baggage of their own if they were willing to work with Sycamore. She shifted back up in her seat as Clancy piped up. It was curious how none of the ex-Sycamore’s in Emily’s coven had been targeted by Father Wolf yet, although it could just be a simple matter of coincidence.

She stared at the patchwork child, noting the hateful look on its face as it spoke of Emily. Sloane hoped that by “taken apart one-by-one” that the aberration meant dismantling the 8th Street Coven instead of decimating them. Even if the want was to only take out Emily and Vashti, it didn’t sit well with Sloane. Felt like something Emily would champion. Eye for an eye, blah blah blah. There were better ways to handle these kinds of things.

“Sloane Faris. I have a question,” said Sloane, raising her hand as if she were in a class. A flash of pain crossed her face as she heard Sully, his words muffled by pizza, say something about asking if they got an extra garlic sauce. She put her hand down on her lap. “While I am also interested in hearing how you’d want to deal with 8th Street or what else you’d be looking to get out of this alliance, I think it would be nice to learn more about our potential partners before jumping immediately into business with strangers.”

“Oh, they’re not strangers, they—” Sully was cut off as Sloane raised her voice ever so slightly and continued on.

“Perhaps this was addressed at the previous meeting, but unfortunately…” Auri is a bitch “...my schedule is quite full on Sundays. You already seem to have a general idea about Sycamore—our problem with 8th Street, our nasty habit of getting murdered, etcetera—but outside of hearing the name before I don’t really know anything about the Greenwood Coven. How long have you been a coven? Why did you form? Notable accomplishments? Things like that.”

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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Interactions: Adora @Shin Ghost Note Clancy @Zombiedude101 Luca @Fernstone
The House on the Hill

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Sully exhaled a deep sigh of relief as Luna apologized to Drake and Drake was grateful enough not to light her up like a Christmas tree. He leaned against the wall, absentmindedly making a drinking motion with his hand before realizing that the Chalice was in Sloane’s possession. He hoped that she’d hurry up with whatever magicky crafty thingy she was doing. There was a part of Sully that resented his role in the Coven just being the dude who carried a cup around, but at least with the cup he had some kind of importance. Without it he felt like little more than the mascot—technically part of the team and helped with lifting spirits, but ultimately a nonfactor in determining the outcome of the game.

Sully slipped behind the bar. Others had already started to help themselves to the dusty spirits that still haunted the closed down establishment, so it wasn’t like he was doing anything uncouth by helping himself. He shuffled through the glass bottles, recognizing none of the names on the labels and unable to determine if that was a good or bad thing. He took a tentative sniff of a random whiskey and gave it a sip, reeling back and gagging at the taste of turpentine from what had probably been the cheapest, saddest, dustiest handle of bottom shelf whiskey that had been gussied up by being poured into a nicer bottle. Sully could taste the plastic. It suddenly made sense as to why the bar shuttered as well as why nobody took the bottles with them. Only the deprived, debased, and desperate would dare drink something as god awful as this.

So naturally, Sully dusted off a rocks glass and poured himself two fingers. He was inadvertently saved from making an awful mistake as the door burst open and the glass dropped from his hands, shattering on the ground and stripping away some of the finish on the wood. The Kid, as Sully had come to identify Clancy as despite already having a frontrow seating proving that Clancy was well deserving of a more sinister moniker, stumbled into the bar. Whatever was left of him, anyway. The sight was sickening and Sully had to swallow back some bubbling acid of his own as Clancy retched up something akin to motor oil. Sully gripped on to the bar to keep himself steady as his legs grew weak and he stared wide-eyed in horror as what was left of the Kid called out for help.

What happened next felt disconnected and disorienting, like Sully wasn’t watching the events unfold before his eyes but rather witnessing a film student’s failed first attempt at making a stop motion movie. People crowding the body, others reeling back like they were ready for a fight, Adora tripling, Luca moving forward to put his hand on the crystal in Clancy’s chest. Sully tried to call out for him to stop, out of fear for Luca, out of fear for Clancy, but his voice was trapped in his throat and all he could do was watch as Luca and crystal began to rot away bit by horrifying bit.

“SULLIVAN!”

Something was slammed against his chest. Sully looked down to see the Chalice, suspended in air, a faint orange and blue glow radiating from beneath the base of the goblet. He didn’t reach for it immediately and the glow stopped, the Chalice clattering on the bar top as he saw Sloane violently shake her head in frustration, stop channeling her Hexmark, and start moving towards one of the Adoras, a staff identical to Auri’s staff in her hand. Sully stirred from his stupor and grabbed the Chalice as he moved towards the injured two. He was pretty sure he heard Sloane say, “Get that idiot away from that thing.”

By the time he made it to the pair, Luca had been shifted so he was face up and separated from Clancy. Sully had the Chalice in one hand and a freshly filled squirt gun in the other, his stupid little bit proving to actually be beneficial. Sully kneeled down beside Clancy, set down the Chalice, carefully propped his head up against his knee, and picked the Chalice back up with a trembling hand. He moved it towards Clancy’s mouth and pressed the rim of the cup to it, encouraging him to drink from the Chalice while trying not to think of how over half of the Kid’s mouth was some spooky shadow demon bullshit that could probably rip his hand clean off in one bite.

“It’s gonna be okay, Kid, I got you. H-hey, Luca, reach for the sky,” said Sully, trying to break the tension with a dumb joke as he leveled the squirt gun toward Luca and fired off a spray of elixir. The color drained from Sully’s face as Luca did not move to catch it. Bracing himself for what was sure to be a painful experience, Sully gently set Clancy back down on the floor, scooted on his knees over to Luca, pushed the tip of the squirt gun into his mouth, and pulled the trigger. Sully caught Sloane staring at him, her typical annoyed look seemingly amplified by what he assumed she would believe to be pointless antics.

“It only works if he can drink it, and the Rot could destroy the Chalice,” said Sully through gritted teeth as he shifted away from Luca, Sloane’s unblinking stare compelling him to explain. She didn’t respond. She didn't even look at him. He realized that Sloane hadn’t been staring at him at all. She was watching Luca intently, her hand tightening on the staff.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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Interactions: Leon @AtomicEmperor Linqian @Fernstone Drake @Shin Ghost Note Luna @Estylwen
The House on the Hill

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Sully’s smile sank as Anya shut down the idea of him getting the book from the dreams. Maybe she didn’t get the whole “Chosen One” thing was just a bit he was rolling with? Obviously, Sully wasn’t predestined to have the book, just like how it was dumb luck and not divine intervention that made him find the Chalice on the beach so many years ago. Still, it just felt like if they were all experiencing the same dream that there had to be some major significance to all of it that people smarter than he should be exploring. Sully was about to open his mouth to make that point when Leon chimed in.

"Oh, Sully! Bro, is one of those filled with JD? Jesus, watch where you're squirtin' your loads Brother, we're tryn'a have a private thing for a second."

“Hell yeah there is! Two, actually. Anyway, my bad bro you know how volatile these thingies are,” said Sully, waving around the cheap, hard plastic squirtgun. “Sometimes you just gotta pull the trigger and pray that it doesn’t spray back in your eyes.”

Jack was talking up a storm, but Sully got so distracted by the new arrivals that he completely missed the conversation steering in the direction of the dreams that he’d been meaning to outsource for analysis. He gave Linqian a mock look of horror on her rightful comments on his stupid little get up, but if he figured he was going to go for the bit he might as well commit. Unable to get a word in edgewise due to the impenetrable wall of sound that Jack was producing, Sully pulled one squirt gun free from his DIY bandolier and waved it in the air. He mouthed “gay spit”, as it would burn Emily twice as badly as lava while not melting through the dollar store squirtgun.

Sully started to dip back into Jack’s filibuster, almost about to chime in that they were about to get a bunch of power and resources in the form of Greenwood, but his eyes glazed over at the mention of pocket realities. His attention was yet again pulled away by Drake and Luna reigniting their feud from the other day. Sully moved closer to the two, ready to come to Luna’s defense as he had been under the impression that she had just desperately wanted to be back with her homies, but faltered as she took the opportunity to arrogantly snipe at Drake instead of just appreciating being back in with the crew. The word “useless” pierced through Drake and hit Sully in the chest. Sully’s mouth hung open, his eyes expressing hurt at the realization that perhaps he had been tricked.

He put his arm out in front of Drake, as if to hold him back. However, Sully didn’t end up giving Drake the ol’ bog standard, cliched, “she ain’t worth it'' speech. Instead, he stepped in front of his buddy and followed after Luna with a “Hey. Hey!” Sully moved quickly for a man his size, even hitting a solid spin move to avoid getting smashed by a floating hors d’oeuvres tray made out of concrete that had nearly blindsided him. He made it to the exit in time to grab Luna by the shoulder. It wasn’t precisely rough, but it lacked his usual gentleness as he turned her to look at him. During the same motion, Sully snapped off his stupid little cowboy hat and tossed it, the hat bouncing off of the beer tap he was hanging for and rolling behind the bar.

“Hey, what the hell was that, man?” said Sully. He attempted to keep his voice down, but it still carried given how heated Luna had made him. “I thought you wanted to be back with the group and the first thing you do is insult Drake? Do you have any idea what he’s gone through? We’re all supposed to be working together, not putting each other down.” Sully glanced towards Todd as he arrived, his eyes narrowing as Bé followed shortly behind, but he forced his focus back on to Luna. “If you really want to be a part of this team you’re going to go back and apologize to him for what you said.”

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Interactions: Kenshiro @AtomicEmperor Luca @Fernstone Lynn @NoriWasHere Nora @Blizz Layla @Estylwen Bé @Aeolian
The House on the Hill

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"Oh, my fellow thief! Glad to see that dour expression is still stuck to your face after getting bug-zapped outside a Dairy Queen."

Sloane didn’t look towards Greyson and hoped that he wouldn’t notice the shifting of her jaw as it clenched together so tight that her teeth would have turned into diamonds given enough time. There was one terrifying moment where Sloane thought Greyson was actually aware of her prior skullduggery before realizing that he was referring to their similar means of excommunication from the first iteration of Sycamore. If that were the case he was utterly wrong: she wasn’t a thief then. A curtain of hair blocked her face from view as she looked down at her notebook, the Quill still automatically detailing the meeting as she tried to push down her bubbling anger and embarrassment at the idea that the assault against her was now being used as a punchline.

She crumpled her Channeler in her hand. It was wild to think that until this moment she had wanted to offer Greyson an apology for chiding him at the first meeting. She listened to his plan in a silent fury. She dismissed it immediately as being stupid and ill-advised, took a deep breath while counting in her head to four, exhaled, and refocused. She tucked her hair behind her ear so she could see the group out of the corner of her eyes and smoothed her Channeler back by pressing it against the table. Greyson’s idea wasn’t so much a plan as it was a delaying tactic, albeit a good one. She turned her attention to Ken and Luca, letting go of the Quill which kept writing even without her hand on it.

”You can if you want to. I don’t mind. I’ll take on the responsibility for all the other 8th members I don’t believe should.”

“I’d mind,” said Sloane firmly.

So much for getting work on the Chalice done. She shifted her chair so that she could easily grab the Chrysalis Staff. She highly doubted Kenshiro would actually take Luca up on his offer to be held responsible for the crimes of 8th Street, especially in a room full of other people, but that wasn’t what made Sloane speak up in his defense. Sloane wasn’t going to allow Luca to scapegoat himself while the real person responsible for 8th Street had just entered the room—and it wasn’t Lynette, as surprising as it was to see one of their former leaders just walk in. No, the one responsible was waving a sword around like an idiot.

Sloane resisted the urge to glance in Britney’s direction, instead keeping one eye on Ken while listening to Jack ramble. She reached back and flipped the page on her notebook, knowing that she would run out of space otherwise. The dreams were vexing, but given that Sloane knew someone with dream magic it wasn’t a fair jump to make that it all could be crafted by a Lux user trying to distract them or use them. Obviously, Anya would never do such a thing, but it would be foolish to believe others would not. Sloane nodded her head in agreement with Jack that they shouldn’t pursue anything related to the dreams at the moment.

Her nodding stopped the second Jack mentioned that he planned to travel to another reality with Kenshiro. No, that was fucking stupid, they needed them here. And what if something went wrong? While Sloane had next to no knowledge on Lila’s situation, Luca had told her about what was going on with the Rot. The Apparition Killer had failed to work on it, so it made it difficult to believe that the Brass Needle would be any different. Plus, without the Rot—Luca chimed in, making the point for Sloane. Sloane leaned forward and propper a hand under her chin. If they were also able to find abstraction granting artifacts for Luca and Lila, however now wasn’t the time to tread down this path. Leaving their reality was a bad idea. It was just like how Lynn had tried to convince her the other day about taking an excursion into the Pit.

“Speaking of journeys…”

Sloane facepalmed as Lynn presented her idea about going into the Pit with the group. For once Sloane was thankful that Britney had shown up to a meeting given how quickly she was to shut the insane idea down. Sloane was even able to bite her tongue and resist the urge to one-up Britney. They had seen in the shared dream that the High Priestess could make a portal capable of getting them out of the Pit, but Sloane did not want to give anyone in the group any more bad ideas than the ones they were already having.

“It seems like we’re getting ahead of ourselves, because the moment Greenwood arrives all of these plans could become moot points. Massively ahead of ourselves, in some regards,” said Sloane, standing to be better heard as she glanced towards Lynn. “Plus, like Britney said and you had discussed with me the other day, we could always just have somebody else make us a Wayfinder.”

“Nora, we’d like to commission a device that is capable of locating people and artifacts. Handheld, preferably, and put to the top of the queue. I imagine the whole group is in agreement that this is more important than a really long metal stick and a…” Sloane glanced down at her notes. “...an alarmingly sinister device designed for the torture and enslavement of Appar…"

^{"...Layla, what the fuck…}”

Dumbstruck, Sloane turned towards Layla but stopped as someone even more unexpected than Lynette entered the room. “Bé?

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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Interactions: N/A
Sloane’s Apartment

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Sully let out a low whistle as he poked his head out of the driver side window of his car and craned his neck to look up at the vertigo-inducing pair of skyscrapers that made up the Harrisburg Towers Luxury Apartments. The afternoon sun reflected off of the mirrored glass window, making the building appear as if it were crafted out of solid gold and serving as a beacon to the trust fund babies and one percenters of St. Portwell. Sully suddenly felt extremely out of place. His rusty truck stood out in stark contrast with the waxed and polished luxury vehicles pulling out of the rounded drive, and he was dressed in clothes from the day before the day before while everyone else looked like they had stepped out of a Neiman Marcus catalog.

Sully let his truck idle for a moment at the turn into the apartments, taking a second to smooth out his hair and wipe a bit of campfire soot off of his cheek by wetting his finger with his tongue. He gave his shirt a sniff and heaved out a rough woof as his eyes rolled in the back of his head. Sully had taken Tayla’s advice to heart and hidden out at Greenwood’s camp over the weekend to avoid dealing with Dean, but the smell was nearly as deadly. He grabbed around in the plastic bag sitting on his seat and pulled out a can of spray deodorant, the car exploding in a sandalwood mushroom cloud.

Sully turned into the drive and got out at the valet, expecting the ladies to clutch at their pearls, the gentlemen to scoff at him with an upper crust, “my god!”, and the poor fucker dressed like a butler just trying to make rent being yelled at to remove him from their property. Instead Sully, backpack in one hand and plastic bag in the other, found himself just ignored by the valet as he approached his podium. He had to cough into his fist to get the fella’s attention.

“Hey Jeeves, I was told to leave my baby with you,” said Sully.

“Your what, sir?” said the man behind the podium. He was affecting some kind of posh, not-quite-English-but-nearly-there accent that caught Sully off guard. Surely it must’ve been a bit? Sully had been a valet before for a couple of weeks, and most of the valets he knew were either actors or comedians awaiting their big break.

“I meant my motorized vehicle, my good sir,” said Sully, unintentionally adopting the accent.

The valet gave Sully the ol’ up-down, looked at his truck, and then back at Sully. “Mm. Are you a guest of one of our residents, sir?”

“Oh no, milord,” said Sully, leaning into the accent now. He wasn’t good at it, unintentionally shifting from an English lord to a peasant shit farmer mid sentence. “I just fancy trying to have a bit of a laugh by giving away my baby, you see. Of course I’m a guest, you see, of the kind lady Sloane Faris who lives at the top of this here castle.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Talkin’ like what, bruv?” another shift.

The valet shook his head, went inside, and approached a man at a desk. A bead of sweat began to form on Sully’s brow, worried that maybe the guy was one of those dudes who took his job way too seriously, half tempted to bolt as he saw the other guy at the desk pick up a phone. A head was nodded and the valet came back outside, looking a little red in the face.

“Terribly sorry about that confusion, Mr. McPherson.”

“Aw now guv, ain’t no problem now innit?”

“Um, right. Your keys, sir?”

“Oh shit, right,” said Sully, shifting back into his normal tone as he pulled a small screwdriver out of his back pocket and waved the valet over to his truck. “You’re just gonna want to jam it into the ignition there and turn. You’re gonna feel like it’ll break but trust me it probably won't, so just keep turning until it starts up. This a bad neighborhood? There’s a wheel lock club in the backset just in case.” The valet gave Sully a suspicious look, which prompted Sully to add, “Don’t worry, it’s not stolen.”

“What happened to your accent, sir?”

“My what?”

“Your accent.”

“What happened to your accent?”

“It's been the same, sir.”

“Yes it has, sir, yes it has. Keep up with that commitment, man. You’ll get there one day,” said Sully, passing the valet the screwdriver and clapping him on the shoulder.

He left the man dumbfounded with a screwdriver in his hand and entered into the lobby, whistling to himself. Sully pulled out his phone and squinted to reread the text from Sloane through the spiderwebbed cracks on the screen, bypassing the first series of elevators to head to the one with exclusive access to the penthouse. He whistled along with the jazzy muzak as the elevator shot up to the top floor, the door sliding open into a private hall leading to Sloane’s apartment. Sully rapped his knuckles to the rhythm of “shave and a haircut” upon the door and stepped back, arching an eyebrow up at the security camera pointed down at him from the corner.

Moments later the door opened and Sloane stood in the entrance, her arms crossed. “You’re late, Sullivan.”

“Only by a little bit.” Nearly an hour. “What’s with your valet speaking in a fake English accent?” Dark eyes locked with his own and stared in unblinking silence for what felt like an eternity. “I mean, I assumed he was an act—”

“You assumed he was an actor before assuming he was English?” said Sloane.

“Well, yeah, it’d be kind of weird if he was from England…”

“How would that be weird?” asked Sloane. Sully rubbed the back of his head and sucked on his teeth, screwing up his face as if he were in deep, ponderous thought. Sloane held up her hand to stop him from saying something stupid. “Nevermind, I don’t care. Did you bring it?”

Sully pulled into his backpack and pulled out the Chalice, “Ta-da!”

The Chalice was plucked from his hand in a flash by Sloane, her lips curling in what Sully almost mistook for a smile on the normally dour woman’s face. She nodded her head and turned as she headed back into her apartment, the door being left open the only sign of an extended invitation inside. Sully kicked his boots off in the entrance, assuming Sloane would be furious if he traipsed about her place with muddy shoes.

He gently closed the door behind him and followed after the woman, his jaw going slack as he looked around her place. He’d figured that Sloane’s place would be fancy, but what he hadn’t expected was for it to look like his grandmother’s house, chock full of weird looking knick knacks. The only thing missing was the plastic covers on the floral couches and pictures of the Virgin Mary. Sully paused by a row of wooden toy soldiers, unable to resist the boyish urge that came across every adult man whenever he saw an action figure to have it fight the other one. He pinched the arm of the soldier and turned it so that his musket would aim at the soldier beside him, his face blanching as the soldier’s arm snapped when he moved it. Sloane, who was sat down at a coffee table, a few crumbs the only evidence of her usual tiny sandwiches that she had crashed in quiet fury about thirty minutes ago when she had assumed Sully had stood her up, her Channeler placed against the Chalice as she began to weave her dual Luxes together, did not appear to notice. He slipped the arm into the plastic bag, burying it along with a change of clothes.

“Hey I don’t want to impose, but could I use your shower? The water has been out at my place for the past couple of days and I’m starting to smell a bit too ripe,” said Sully, jangling his plastic bag with the clothes he’d snagged when he’d snuck in past his landlord to get into his apartment that morning.

If it had been warmer outside he just could’ve used the Chalice to give himself a hot shower, but he would’ve shriveled his bits off in this weather. Camping out at Greenwood’s hideout was starting to become unviable, too, but between Dean and the landlord he didn’t want to be caught hanging out in his studio apartment. Sloane looked up as if to say “are you serious” but before she could speak he hit her with his patented puppy dog eyes. She deftly rolled her eyes away from them, but still acquiesced with a sigh and a nod, informing him that extra towels were in the hall closet.

Once in the bathroom, Sully hit the fan then rushed over to the toilet, threw the arm down into the bowl, and flushed—or tried to, anyway, but couldn’t find a handle. He gawked at the panel beside the toilet, lined with a dozen buttons, and pushed the one that looked like the flush. Sully shouted in horror as a nozzle protruded out from the basin of the toilet and shot a mist of water in his face. He gagged and hit another button, ducking to the side a spray of water arced across the bathroom. Why were there two different types of sprays? He hit every button on the side panel, turning on and off lights, causing the lid to close and open automatically, playing the sounds of nature, before finally a flush, the dismembered arm spiraling down the drain. The arm was a fighter and did not stay down until the fourth flush.

What followed was the longest shower ever, partially due to wanting to purify his body of Sloane’s toilet water and partially due to not wanting to go back out into her living room knowing full well that she had to assume that he’d just blown up her toilet.

“Crazy dream the other night, huh? Is that what made you think about duping the Chalice again?” asked Sully, fresh dressed in new duds and smelling like whatever the fuck tumeric body wash was,acting as if nothing weird had happened.

“No,” said Sloane tersely.

Sully sat down on the couch across from her. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Do you have Orange Lux?”

“No.”

“Then just be quiet. I need to focus,” said Sloane.

Sully nodded his head, put his hands in his lap, and kept nodding his head as he looked around the room, part admiring all of the books on her shelves, part wondering why someone would need to hold onto so many books when the public library was a thing. Resting against the shelf was a seven-foot tall wooden staff with decorative blue butterflies atop of it. Hey, that’s Auri’s staff. Sully got up to take a closer look. Sitting on the shelf by the staff was a fancy looking pen covered in runes, a bizarre looking camera’s lens, and a—Sully laughed out loud in surprise, “Holy shit, you freaky bitch! Hell yeah, Sloane.”

Sloane’s head snapped up, the Lux that flowed around her hands fading away as she turned to see Sully standing near her bookshelf wiggling his eyebrows like a weirdo. Her eyes widened into a rare expression of panic as she saw Sully take the pen and use it like a crime scene investigator who was too cool to wear gloves to lift up his source of amusement.

“Wait, no—it’s not—goddamnit, you don’t know where that’s been!”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s been in one of two places…”

“Sullivan!” Sloane let out a frustrated sigh as Sully laughed. “Just…just shut up and let me explain.”

---

Sunday Night

After the Preliminary Sycamore-Greenwood Meeting

An atrocity committed by @Shin Ghost Note that I was powerless to prevent.

Flowers and Canvases.

---

“So… let’s get work, shall we?” said Auri.

Sloane stared blankly at Auri’s smile, a smirk really, as she suggested that they get to work without even bothering to make an excuse for why Sloane hadn’t been invited to a meeting attended by half of the coven. Even after the others had departed there were still signs of her exclusion all around Auri’s flower shop—over a dozen chairs formed roughly in a half-circle and a few mostly empty boxes of pizza whose smell mixed unpleasantly with the pollen from the petunias and posies lining the nearby shelves as well as a lingering hint of skunk weed. Auri not only lacked the consideration to clean up after her little pizza party, but she had scheduled Sloane’s meeting with her to overlap so that Sloane could be embarrassed when she’d arrived.

“Yes, let’s,” said Sloane through gritted teeth.

She took the pizzas off of the counter and stacked them roughly on one of the chairs that had been placed out for anybody but Sloane. Decade old slights stung anew. Sloane remembered then and there how deeply she actually despised Auri, who had been unfairly involved in all of the decision making solely because she had been buddy-buddy with Ashley and would just side with her when what the Coven truly needed to stay functioning was someone who would’ve stood up and told Ashley no. Sloane heard Anya’s voice echo in her head and shoved the feelings of jealousy that she mistook for righteous indignation down, walked around the counter, and set her channeler down on it.

“I’m glad you were finally capable of having a meeting that didn’t end in disaster,” said Sloane as dry as a desert. It could have been a complement. It wasn’t, but it could have been. As much as Sloane wanted to continue to go off on Auri for her questionable leadership choices, both then and now, she gained nothing from getting distracted. She gestured to the counter. “The Butterfly Staff, please. This should only take about an hour.”

Sloane’s insides boiled. She shouldn’t poke, she shouldn’t poke, she shouldn’t poke, but, oh fuck it, she simply could not resist. The others had told her to give Auri a chance. She had and now five of them were dead and they were being terrorized by Emily and her goons. Sloane leaned against the counter and stared Auri dead in the eyes.

“I imagine that’s more than enough time for you to explain why you keep leaving some of us in the dark when it comes to making moves. The Void Heart, Greenwood,” said Sloane, counting on her fingers. “What did you say the problem with the old Coven was? Something about leadership making decisions without informing the others?”

Auri gave Sloane a narrow look, as she said,

“Now, Sloane,” Auri began. “In all fairness, the entire thing with Greenwood was dropped on me at the last second… I didn’t get a chance to gather everyone together! Jack didn’t inform me of the whole thing until earlier today...”

Then she shuddered, playing with her thumbs before she said, “As for the Void Heart… We just couldn’t risk the Void Heart catching on to our plan to seal him.”

She shook her head, “Please understand I didn’t mean to leave you all in the dark.”

“You still did a pretty good job of leaving the lights off after the fact. I don't necessarily disagree with the idea, but imagine if that fiasco with sealing the Void Heart had gone just a degree worse than it already did,” said Sloane, her voice cold and steady. They could’ve been killed by the Temple or trapped in the Void if Jack was taken out. “It’s not a big boost of confidence to see your supposed leader almost get herself killed because she went all-in on an idea that was undercooked.”

“But I-”

“And in all fairness,” said Sloane, a little snip coming in as she pulled out her cellphone and loudly set it down on the countertop, “A text isn’t that difficult to send. Seems like you had no trouble finding a way to get in touch with someone like Britney or Greyson.”

“It's Sunday, I didn't want to bother you, Sloane,” Auri simply answered. “Next time, I’ll remember to send you a message.”

“It’s Sunday?” repeated Sloane with a sharp, singular laugh as her hand slapped the countertop, unable to believe what she had just heard. Her mouth hung open as she stared at Auri in a look of horrified disgust. She raised her voice, “Is that some kind of joke or are you actually an idiot? Over a dozen of us are dead. What the actual fuck, Auri!?”

“Like you care about anyone but yourself,” Auri said with a roll of her eyes. “Now, you will not speak to me that way in my own store.””

Sloane sharply inhaled as she stood up straight, her hands tightening into fists at her side, her left eyelid twitching ever so slightly as she glared up at Auri. What a load of nonsense. Although she might not outwardly show it, there were plenty of people who could vouch for Sloane actually caring about others—Adora, Luca, even Linqian of all people. Yet there was no point in arguing with Auri about it because it was clear from her response that she was, in fact, just an idiot. An idiot wouldn’t listen to Sloane’s logic and an idiot’s opinion didn’t even matter in the first place, so why did Auri’s words sting so badly? If anything Sloane cared about others too much, way too much, overly concerned with worries about if they respected her, if they cared about her, if they even thought about her…

Sloane broke eye contact as she exhaled, her hands trembling, shaking her head in disbelief, as she muttered, “Just give me the staff so we can get this over with.”

“Now you want to get it over with?” Auri huffed, before she shook her head. “A minute ago you wanted-”

Auri said, before she noticed something at the corner of her eye, at the window. An orange mass. She whipped her head towards it to see Odessa Maxwell with her face and both hands pressed against the window.

… Then she licked it.

“A minute ago I wanted to get this started but instead, uhhhh…”

Sloane trailed off as she looked back up at Auri but got distracted by the strange woman running her tongue over the window like it was a lollipop. Sloane took a step back as her brain short circuited, the mental lag unable to compute, her eyebrows hopping to the top of her forehead as the clearly deranged woman gave the window another lick right above the decal sticker that read “Keep St. Portwell Weird” that appeared in almost every local business window. As a fellow small business woman, Sloane had also dealt with her fair share of weirdos who had taken the slogan too literally, but she’d never experienced a windowlicker.

“Do you have a backroom?” suggested Sloane, unable to pull her eyes away from the window.

“Oh! Um, this…” Auri put a concerned look on as her face went red. She gestured towards Odessa and said, “This is-”

Odessa was still licking the window.

“Odessa! My… Um, friend!”

Odessa licked the window some more.

“... She can pick the lock,” Auri sighed.

“You know her?” said Sloane, unable to hide how aghast that made her. If Auri had managed to scrape a single crumb of respect out of Sloane over the years the two had known one another then in that moment it had fallen between her fingers and disappeared beneath a floorboard to never be seen again. “Tell her to leave, then.”

“... If you insist!” Auri said before she walked outside. She chatted with Odessa for a bit… Before Odessa skipped past her all the way to Sloane with Auri in tow.

“... Wait, Odess-”

“Hello, friend!” Odessa greeted Sloane with a warming smile. “Why do you want me to go before I even get a chance to introduce myself?! I am so excited to meet you!”

“W-what?” said Sloane.

Sloane shot Auri a look as she took a reactive step back. Why would Auri even mention that Sloane had asked her to be sent away? She could’ve just made an excuse. Sloane squinted, a spike of pain shooting through to the back of her head as a migraine started to form. Never in her life before had anybody ever told Sloane that they were excited to meet her. It simply wasn’t a thing that was possible. Sloane wasn’t exciting. She didn’t want to live up to the expectations set by being believed to be a source of excitement.

“Why?” asked Sloane, genuinely befuddled, moderately alarmed, and slightly terrified.

“Because… you’re a friend of Auri’s - thus, you’re a friend of mine, friend - and I’m Sycamore’s biggest fan!” Odessa said with a wide smile before she said, “I heard you were an Artificer! I have some artifacts on me. Would you like to see?!”

“You’re deeply mistaken,” said Sloane, speaking over Odessa and rolling her eyes as she was about to correct the statement about her being one of Auri’s friend, a spark of life flashing in Sloane’s eyes as Odessa carved through her interruption and mentioned the artifacts. Sloane rubbed her hands together like she was about to feast upon a big meal. “It’d be more correct to say that I am a Counterfeiter. Now what are we working with?”

“Counterfeiter, counter-fisher, you make artifacts. Therefore, you’re an artificer, no if-ands-or-buts,” Odessa laughed as she dug around her robe, “Now, where did I put them - AH!”

She pulled three artifacts out of her robes, a silvery pen with runes, a camera’s lens, and what seemed to be a condom covered in glowing runes. She pointed at the pen,

“This is the Quill. After you write an event down with it, the pen will take over and write down details you may have missed or overlooked!”

Sloane nodded along with a hand on her chin, curious about the extent of the Quill’s power. It could actually be quite useful in their investigation of Father Wolf. Still, her eyes drifted to the final artifact that Odessa had pulled out, but her attention was diverted when Odessa pointed at the Camera’s lens.

“This is the CameraEye! When looking through it, you can see people’s souls, what they would look like in different dimensions, and even through their clothes!”

Sloane stopped nodding and started blinking rapidly in confusion. What did souls even look like, and what would be the point of seeing them? Wait, did she say they could see through clothes? Who? Why? What kind of creep would make something like that? Besides, she imagined that most people looked bad without clothes alone and that they would look even worse if their clothing were smushing—wait, wait, wait, no, hold on, that implied that she was imagining people without their clothes on at all like some kind of pervert. Sloane blushed slightly and opened her mouth to protest an accusation that hadn’t been thrown her way as Odessa pointed at the condom.

“... And this is the magic condom. It's reusable and protects against magic STDs. Very handy.”

Sloane felt her migraine flare up as her jaw hung slack, silence permeating the flower shop, as her rapid blinking slowed until her eyes were completely closed, unable to believe that she was going to ask a follow up question. She asked, “What about normal STDs and unwanted pregnancies?”

Odessa shrugged.

“... You’re outta luck! But you don't have to worry about a demon baby, at the very least!”

Sloane’s hand slipped over her face as she made a sound as if she had been punched in the stomach. Her fingers moved so that she could peek one eye out from behind her hand shield as if she was gazing into the abyss, not wanting to know more out of fear of what she would learn but unable to move on from the subject. “And these demons are consensual partners that use protection?”

Odessa stared at Sloane, still smiling. It was probably ten seconds before she spoke, but it felt so much longer.

“... They’re demons.”

“So how would you ever actually use it?” asked Sloane, her voice hollow like a crestfallen soldier who’d spent weeks fighting in trench warfare.

Odessa put the other two artifacts on a nearby chair. Then…

“... Okay, first you open it up,” Odessa says as she cracks it open, “Then you either put it on the member or you stick it in because it's adaptiv-”

“No, I know how it worked, I meant—you two are friends?” said Sloane, turning sharply towards Auri.

“That is correct.” Auri awkwardly pulled at her collar.

“Everyone is my friend!” Odessa laughed.

“Like, close friends?” asked Sloane, sticking her hand out to stop Odessa before she spoke up. ”Not like that.”

“... Aw.” Odessa said.

Auri grabbed her chin before she added more context.

“I would say we’re somewhat close; it started as a business partnership - where Odessa found me the most beautiful flowers I've ever seen - but it grew from there.”

“Yes, it grew!” Odessa put a strange amount of emphasis on the last word.

Sloane gave Auri the blankest look possible, her ability to emote completely drained from her mind and body, the only hint of her disapproval the slight upturning of her nose as she merely said, “Okay.”

Auri walked over to where the Butterfly Staff was leaning up against the wall. She grabbed it, and handed it to Sloane who didn’t hesitate in snatching it from Auri.

“How about we get back on track here?” Auri began, before turning to Odessa, “... She won't interrupt.”

Sloane, who had been admiring the Butterfly Staff, gave Odessa a side eye, “Uh huh. This spell does require me to be focused, so if you two have to talk please do it quietly. Over there, maybe.”

Sloane dismissively gestured towards the other side of the store and turned her back on the two women, a thin smile appearing on her face as she turned her attention back to the Butterfly Staff. It had been a decade since Sloane had last held the artifact, the looming threat of what was to come after the Stygian Snake all Sloane needed to convince Auri to let her Counterfeit it. It was well-crafted, with a nice heft to it and a beautiful stain on the wood. Despite it being a family heirloom of the Auclair’s and the seven foot tall staff looking silly in the hands of someone as short as Sloane it just felt right in her possession, as all artifacts did. Sloane gently laid the Butterfly Staff down on the counter, giving a moment of silent reverence to the creator before she committed, what was in her mind, sacrilege.

Odessa had called Sloane an Artificer. Sloane had called herself a Counterfeiter, but deep down she thought of herself as something more than just that. Something rotten. She was a corrupter, a ruiner, a debaser. She took a thing that someone had poured blood, sweat, and tears in to make and crafted a bastardization in its image. She was unoriginal. A ripoff artist. A hack. Sure, a few of her knockoffs turned out useful, but those were the flukes. She had no real control over what came out once she started making a Counterfeit except for the option to stop making it, although she never did. She was scared to. It would be admitting the truth: she was bad with magic. Lacked the vision for it. Ten years and the improvement had been microscopic.

Sloane shook her head and grabbed her Channeler, shutting the negative thoughts out. She pressed her Channeler to the staff and began to cast, the Butterfly Staff swirling with Blue and Orange Lux. She closed her eyes tight in concentration, her lips mouthing words unheard, her brow furrowing. Lux like ink from the tip of a busted pen began to drip from her free hand as it started to form the Counterfeit of the Butterfly Staff. If it was her first time creating the Counterfeit her mind would be filled with flashes of inspiration from a source she could not cite, but instead she was left alone with the memories of how long it had taken the first crafting of the Chrysalis Staff. She guessed remaking it would take the better part of an hour, but the first Counterfeit was always the longest. Nearly an entire month, although there had been a very good reason for that.

Sloane winced. Already she felt her hand cramping up. She stopped her casting for a moment as she rubbed her wrist, her eyes opening…

… And saw Odessa standing directly next to her. Like inches away from her face.

Smiling.

Sloane reeled back with a start, “What are you doing?”

Odessa booped her. Sloane was immediately made so uncomfortable that her body essentially shutdown and entered into a near catatonic state as her mind was too busy trying to process exactly what the hell was going on to also send synaptic impulses to her motor functions.

“I think you’re beautiful,” Odessa began, before she walked around to Sloane’s back. “But, I know what will really bring your beauty out!”

“Um, Odessa!” Auri raised a finger.

Odessa began braiding flowers into Sloane’s hair. Sloane’s skin crawled the second she felt fingers run through her hair, jump starting her body as she turned swiftly and batted away Odessa’s hand with an indistinct yelp. Sloane’s hip stiffly collided with the counter as she had tried to back away, a sharp intake of breath the only acknowledgment of the pain. She rapidly combed through her hair with her fingers as if a spider had landed in it, tearing loose the stem that Odessa had managed to tangle up in her locks, as she shimmered alongside the countertop to get distance between herself and Odessa, her Channeler crumpled up against her pounding heart.

“What the fuck is your problem?” said Sloane to Odessa, her voice a meek whisper that exploded as she pointed and screamed at Auri for allowing this to happen. And what the fuck is your problem!?”

“I can’t,” Auri calmly said. “I’m afraid if I interfere, she won’t boop me later.”

Sloane believed the pain in her head wasn’t from the migraine but rather her actually being able to feel her brain cells being genocided. She gawked at Auri, her neurons lined up against the wall, facing the brick, and listening to the sounds of guns being loaded. Sloane fired off the fire shot instead of allowing the massacre of gray matter to happen without a fight as she coolly said, “God, you’re a joke. This is why nobody respects you or thinks of you as a leader.”

“... And you think they won’t feel the same way with you in charge?” Auri spat back. “Now, Odessa, please leave Sloane alone so she can work, please?”

Odessa stepped back.

“I hope this doesn’t ruin our future friendship, friend!” Odessa shouted with a wide smile. “Maybe as a peace offering, you can borrow those artifacts I showed you. As long as you bring them back to me after this blows over. So don’t lose them! Or break them. Or lose them, and then they get broken. Or break them, then lose what’s left!”

“Um, okay,” said Sloane, torn by the idea of borrowing the artifacts. On one hand, it meant she’d probably have to interact with Odessa again which might trigger a stroke and cause her to lose the ability to form sentences or breath with her mouth closed. On the other hand, it was probably for everyone’s best interest if Odessa wasn’t in possession of any of those artifacts. “Thank you?”

“And I didn’t say I should be in charge,” muttered Sloane quietly to herself as she turned back around.

She held her Channeler against the Butterfly Staff but did not start casting. Instead, she waited for a moment, shoulders tensed and braced in anticipation of Odessa creepily touching her again. It was only after a few beats that she exhaled, closed her eyes, and began casting again, the Lux weaving itself around the Butterfly Staff and then snaking up her channeler like she was siphoning it from the artifact. Sloane was a bit more rushed her second go around, heated from Auri’s insinuation and certain that there would be another interruption if she took too much time.

She pushed the Lux through her body as she formed the base of the Chrysalis Staff. Her right hand began to grow numb as a thin, shell-like coating of Blue and Orange Lux solidified itself around Sloane’s skin. Sloane ignored the tingling sensation and pushed on, the shell creeping up her wrist and forearm as the essence of the Chrysalis Staff began to spark to life. It was the other reason that it took her so long to properly Counterfeit an artifact—whenever Sloane was Counterfeiting one, her body would become subjected to the effects of the Counterfeit. With some it wasn’t so bad while with others, such as the paralyzing Chrysalis Staff, it was quite the frustration.

And, in some situations, quite the risk. Sloane took a break, the shell forming around her arm beginning to fade in luster as she tried to open her eyes but found them temporarily sealed by the Chrysalis. She started to flex her face in an attempt to crack the shell faster, a groan rumbling in her throat.

“Sloane!” Auri ran over and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Oh, lord, um, make noise if you need help!”

“... Welll, that escalated quickly,” Odessa laughed. “What if she can’t?! How are we going to help her? Chip away at her shell?!”

“I don’t know!” Auri said.

“I’m. Fine,” said Sloane. Tried to, anyway. What she actually said was something like, “Umbime.” The dulling shell began to fade and become translucent, vanishing into thin air as Sloane flexed her fingers and lightly brushed Auri’s hand from her shoulder. A sheen of sweat was on Sloane’s forehead and she felt some heat rise to her cheek as she turned to Auri and reiterated, “Really, I’m fine. Just part of the process.”

She looked down at the start of the Chrysalis Staff with a sneer. It still had a long way to go.

“Jack said something about bringing water?” said Sloane, her throat feeling dry as she checked her watch. “This is going to take awhile.”

---

Interactions: Tayla @silvermist1116 Anya, Luca @Fernstone Layla [@Estlywen] the Group
The House on the Hill

---

“Look, you’re at that age where your body’s changing and you’re starting to become interested in boys. I get it. Honestly, I’m just proud that you’re practicing safe sex, kiddo,” said Sully.

“Sully, another fucking joke and I’m going to grab the wheel of your car and crash it,” said Sloane.

She was sitting atop a towel in the passenger side of his truck. It was the most disgusting vehicle she had ever been in and even if it hadn’t become a hotspot for mildew after a Vashti storm had wrecked the upholstery it still would’ve been an absolute piece of shit. She had been so distracted telling her story—venting, really—to Sully that she had hardly made any progress on the Counterfeit Chalice. The actual Chalice was resting on her lap, while in her hand was a silver saucer shaped object that would become the bottom of the Sluice. Awkwardly jammed into the passenger side with Sloane was the Chrysalis Staff, making the already uncomfortable drive even more uncomfortable. It didn’t help that Sully listened to the same music her dad liked.

“This would be the song to do it to,” said Sully as the chorus hit.

Sloane didn’t feel so much like knocking on heaven’s door as she did like jumping out the car’s door. Sully was an idiot. A moron. Stupidly annoying and when she had highlighted how her evening with Auri and Odessa was proof that Auri was incompetent he wouldn’t hear a lick of it, barking like a loyal lapdog that Auri was trying her best. Well, if he thought this was her best then he should’ve been massively concerned, but of course he wasn’t because, again, he was an idiot.

But that idiot had saved her life.

“Thank you, Sullivan, for being there when Lu…when the Rot almost took me out,” said Sloane. “I’m pretty sure I would have been a goner if not for you.”

“Whoa, hey now, anybody could have done it. Now I know with all these dreams we’re having it’s becoming pretty clear amongst the group that I must be the Chosen One, maybe the Second Coming of the Messiah even, you know, their words, not mine, but I’m just a guy with a cup. Anybody would have done the same. Hell, anybody could have done it,” said Sully. “You should be thanking Anya. She knocked me out of my hallucination.”

“I know,” said Sloane. There was no point in explaining to Sully that he was one of the few people in the Coven who could actually use the Chalice. Most others were Adepts and without a Severance they wouldn’t be able to utilize it, and she doubted many would give up their magic for her. Anya probably would, although Sloane wouldn’t want that of her despite knowing that she’d do the same in a heartbeat.

Sully pulled into the lot of the House on the Hill. Auri had a knack for finding abandoned places for them to squat. Sloane didn’t get it. Couldn’t they just rent a room somewhere? They were much less likely to get jumped in a public place then they were in some desolate skid row. Where would the next meeting take place? In a cabin in the woods? She awkwardly hopped out of the truck, carrying too many artifacts and counterfeits, but was stopped by Sully.

“Hey, wait, can I have the Chalice back?”

“I planned on trying to finish up the Sluice. Nothing ever happens in these things anyway, so I could at least get some work done.”

“Man, maybe you should try coming at things with a little more construction and a lot less criticism and you might make things happen. Anyway, I’ll give it right back to you when I’m inside. Just go on ahead, okay?” said Sully. He could see Sloane hesitant. “Consider it paying me back for saving you.”

“Whatever,” said Sloane, going ahead of Sully.

For an abandoned bar it was actually quite nice. Sloane walked in with little fanfare, although she looked and felt ridiculous holding the Chrysalis Staff that towered nearly two feet over her head. She discreetly made her way through the bar. A good portion of the Coven was already present, discussing in tense tones things that did not sound relevant to what should have been on the agenda considering what Auri had texted them about. Wasn’t this the meeting to rub elbows and play nice with the other coven in town? She noted the presence of a couple of newcomers, perhaps representatives from Greenwood, and felt her shoulder sink at the thought that the others were clucking at one another in front of guests. She quietly slid into a seat by Anya, leaning her Counterfeit staff up against the table

“Busy weekend. I take it that we’re already off topic?” said Sloane to Anya. “Give me a second, I’ll catch up.”

She pulled out a pocket notebook and the pen that Odessa had given her and started jotting down a few notes. After a few lines Sloane stopped writing and allowed the Quill to take over for her, the automatic writing guiding her hand as it began to fill her in as if she was reading through the minutes of the meeting. Her hand slapped her forehead and by the time she was done catching herself up to speed her hand had slipped back to the top of her neck, her head having hung lower and lower and lower. See, this was precisely why Sycamore needed someone like her to pop the hinges off of doors and keep the course focused. Whenever they were given time to idly chatter they kept doing dangerous and harmful things like taking an impulse and calling it an actual thought. At least the other two weren’t Greenwood although…Vanburen? Ugh. Thank god it wasn’t Trisha.

”Our history shows that we’re more likely to get fucked over by ignorance and sheer incompetence than we are by ill intentions,” muttered Sloane to Anya, just loud enough that Tayla would've been able to hear if she wasn't rudely trying to catch up on podcasts during their meeting.

A boom rang out through the room as Sully kicked open the door. He was dual-wielding a pair of cheap pink water pistols with a do-it-yourself bandolier draped over his chest holding half a dozen squirt guns made out of duct tape and velcro. A flimsy, kid-sized cowboy hat barely held on to his head by a fraying piece of twine as he threw his head back and shouted, “Yeeeeeeeeeeehaw, bitches! Reach for the skies! Your boy’s come strapped today! Lemme so those fucking hands if you’re not feeling one hundred. The Chosen One’s got you. Oh, Sloane, catch!”

Sully lobbed the Chalice gently over towards Sloane. It was a perfect toss that could have easily been caught if Sloane’s reaction had not been to scream, duck, and throw her arms over her head, the Chalice bouncing somewhat painfully off of her forearms. Sully didn’t notice as he did it a little spin, hollered at Luca and Layla, and blasted a stream of the Chalice’s healing elixir at the mouths of the two chronically weak members of the Coven. Sully then took a seat, spun it around, and stood with his foot up on it as he leaned forward on his knee.

“So what’d I miss? I reckon y’all were talking about them weird ass dreams, right? Anybody know what’s up with that book? I’m pretty sure I’m meant to have it,” said Sully, completely oblivious to the conversation beforehand.

“Case and point, whispered Sloane to Anya, grabbing the Chalice before it rolled off the table.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Happy 500 fuckers.

Recollections: The Compendium

THE .CHALICE
| The Waters of Life | "Thirst no more, hunger no more, and suffer no more. A limitless boon in the hands of the worthy." ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | Unknown, but the Chalice and artistic interpretations of it have made many appearances throughout folklore and mythology throughout the past few millenniums. Perhaps willed into existence by centuries upon centuries of wishes from the thirsty, the hungry, and the sick. | TYPE: | Neverending Goblet | LOCATION: | St. Portwell | NOTABLE OWNERS: | Sloane Faris: Kept the Chalice in her vault for safekeeping for Sully McPherson. Sully McPherson: The founder and current owner of the Chalice since it resurfaced from the Pit. Mainly uses it for beer. | ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | Yes | .............................................................................	The Chalice is an artifact that has been around since ancient times, held by kings, messiahs, and so-called god and known by many other names. It somehow became lost, spurring many seekers of its powers to quest for it but never find it. Eventually, the Chalice became little more than a myth, believed to be little more than a flowery metaphor written down by a poet of yore and misinterpreted by the simple masses of days gone by. In reality, the Chalice somehow ended up being discovered by a jock in Oregon. The Chalice is a large, empty silver goblet that is covered with runic symbols; the inside is stained a brownish red. The Chalice is a normal cup unless it is held by the Cupbearer, who is the only person able to activate its magical properties. A small blood offering is required to become the Cupbearer—about 3 drops in the goblet—and they are able to use the Chalice until another person performs the ritual. The Chalice cannot be damaged by normal means or by the contents summoned by the Cupbearer. The Cupbearer can fill the Chalice with an endless supply of whatever liquid they want. This can range from mundane uses, like creating water or wine to drink, to dangerous, like calling forth lava or acid and splashing it upon a foe. The most notable liquid the Chalice can produce is an elixir, a magical concoction that can heal recent wounds and restore energy if drank. It’s worth noting that the Chalice is “self-cleaning” in the sense that creating another liquid obliterates whatever of the previous liquid was left in the cup. This also happens when the Cupbearer stops touching the Chalice. Therefore, the Cupbearer cannot accidentally poison others or unintentionally cause chemical reactions. How much liquid appears is dependent on the wishes of the Cupbearer. Typically, one cupful is what is summoned on each use, but they could continue to call forth more liquid as long as they remain in contact with the Chalice.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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Interactions: Anya @Fernstone Jack@Blizz, Drake@Shin Ghost Note
Kari’s House

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“Anya…”

Sloane gave her a tiny smile offset by a sad, pitiful look as she pulled the jacket tightly around her body to cover her tattered clothes. It was just like Anya to be there exactly when Sloane needed her. Sloane’s mind was still a mess, having not fully come out of the shock that she had been in, finding it easier to focus on the mud on Anya’s shoes than on the people around her. She huffed a little air through her nose, the best she could muster for a laugh, to Anya’s dry retort to her question, before nodding her head gently at the suggestion that Anya take her home, her nod freezing as Anya suggested Drake join them. Her body tensed further as Jack appeared, offering to teleport them to wherever they wanted to go. She grimaced. Please god no, she already felt sick enough as it was.

Another pair of shoes approached, “Stick with Sully for a minute Sloane, heal up. Feel better, okay?”

Sloane’s mouth ran dry as her body completely turned to stone, the only sign of life being her fast-beating heart that had jumped up to the top of her throat. Besides Anya she was suspicious about all these people caring for her, and then of all people Jasper actually came over and said something to her that wasn’t absolutely awful? If she didn’t know any better she would’ve believed that she was still hallucinating. She felt like she should say something, anything really, an opportunity to prove that his preconceptions of her were misguided, the thought that she even cared about how he viewed her terrifying, the sudden sickness in her stomach misdiagnosed as anger. She remained like a statue until she caught sight of him turning and then subtly raised her head, watching him go.

The others were starting to depart now. Normally this would be the moment where Sloane would point out that they needed to formulate some kind of plan of action to handle 8th Street instead of immediately dissolving into their own cliques again, but she was pretty much fried and didn’t even consider the thought. She just wanted to go home, take a long, hot shower, and have a cup of tea. Sloane held onto Anya as she settled herself to her feet, staring after Drake as he moved to confront Luna. When had she returned? Sloane couldn’t believe that the woman had the nerve to even show her face. Unlike Sloane or even Greyson, Luna was guilty beyond a doubt for working against the Coven back in the day. Perhaps Sloane should’ve felt a kind of sympathy for her fellow reject, but there was nothing there but ice. She didn’t know whether to be proud of Drake for showing restraint and backing down from confronting her or disappointed that he didn’t give her the welcome she deserved.

”Know what? Let's just scram,” said Drake as he returned.

“Yeah, let’s go,” muttered Sloane.

She moved to leave with the others, pausing momentarily to turn back and look at Auri. Sloane did need her. Or rather, she needed something of her’s. The next time 8th Street attacked them all she refused to be defenseless. Petty differences aside, she knew that Auri would be smart enough to do the right thing. However, it could wait. Sloane would contact her once she gathered herself. For now she just turned and stuck to Anya, hanging her head once more.

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In Collaboration w/ @Estylwen

Kari’s House

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The bar was going in full swing by now as Sully, hunched down in the mud, tried to uncrush paper cups and fill it up with the elixir. He hummed to himself a variant of “99 Bottles of Beer” as he passed out the cups, trying to ignore his shaking hands as well as the blood underneath his fingernails. It never got any easier seeing someone hurt as badly as Sloane had been. He could tell himself that he had saved her by being there, but really all he had done was bear the cup. Sully couldn’t think of himself as being the one who had saved her. If Anya hadn’t pulled Sully out of his hallucination then Sloane would’ve been on her way to having a closed casket funeral.

He couldn’t help but think of what would be if he had tripped, or been a little slower to come to, or if he’d lost the Chalice somewhere in the shuffle. There was a reason he had given it to her for “safekeeping” in the first place. Sully couldn’t handle the pressure anymore. He didn’t like bearing the weight of responsibility, knowing that one momentary choke on his end could determine if someone woke up in the morning or not. He might’ve joked about being the “Chosen One” after all those Recollections centered around the Chalice, but the idea of being the only one capable of saving his friends from dying didn’t make him feel special. It made him feel scared.

One of the crumpled little cups ended up being filled with some good ol’ fashioned brown instead of the healing elixir blood red. Sully downed the double of whiskey and then followed it with a second just to be sure, closing his eyes as the burn slid all the way down his throat. His hand was steadier for the next pour.

Tayla’s arrival with Luna was a sudden reminder of the other problems going on in his world. Sully needed to talk to her about Dean. Specifically, he needed to convince her to swallow her pride and recruit the help of the others to beat his damn ass so bad that he’d leave both of them alone. While he would never sell Tayla out to Dean, there were only so many times Sully could get jumped by a guy before he would spill someone else’s tea. If not to Sycamore then at the very least to Greenwood, because while they likely didn’t even know who Tayla was they wouldn’t tolerate someone messing around with one of them. Sully stood up from where he had established his pop-up bar and started to saunter over to Luna and Tayla.

“Hey, Tay—”

“We have an emergency at 7 o’clock!”

“—huh?” Sully blinked, pretty sure it was closer to six in the evening, as his eyes looked over towards the bushes. “Oh shit!”

Aislin and Layla had emerged from the bushes, appearing as if some had replaced their bong water with gasoline. Sully jogged over, his face heavy with concern that twisted into shock as he got close enough to see the severity of the burns, too worn out by all the excitement to remember his bedside manners. He didn’t recall seeing them in the melee, but then again he had been too busy trying to stay alive and not to shit himself. Had they been engulfed in one of Emily’s fireballs?

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, y’all don’t look too bad,” said Sully, breathing heavily through his mouth to avoid the stench of burnt flesh.

Aislin groaned as she crawled out of the bush on her hands and knees, “Y-you’re a terrible liar, you know?”

He flicked the contents of his solo cup out into the grass and filled it with elixir, passing it to Aislin who of the two looked like she could manage to drink on her own. A little burn of the whiskey might still be present and if she was worried about getting Sully cooties then tough luck, but the elixir would be as potent as ever. Aislin took it, sitting back with a wince, before downing the contents. Cooties didn’t even cross her mind.

For Layla, who barely seemed to be with them, he moved to put the Chalice to her lips and to help lift her head so that she could drink. A bit dribbled to the sides before Layla managed to open her eyes and get her esophagus working, sipping like a child, weakly and messily.

Luna could be seen watching carefully, before nodding to herself, spreading her wings, and taking off.

Bit by bit, the burns receded away from both Aislin and Layla. The elixir patched over the remainder of their high as well, bringing both back into their senses. Eventually, the skin had healed over completely, the only evidence that they had been blasted to kingdom come the burn holes evident on their charred clothes.

Aislin clapped Sully on the back, a grateful grin on her face. “You’re a lifesaver, my friend. You get first dibs on my next run. You want the kush, you get it.” She said, trying to make light of a dark situation.

Sully’s eyes brightened. He was so used to being around Ruby and her bogarting ways that he had forgotten there were kind, caring people like Aislin who would happily give weed away. Sure, he could’ve just gone to the dispensary, but that meant waiting in line and having disposable income…or any income, come to think of it.

Aislin’s eyes moved across the remains of Kari’s charred house, to the destroyed front lawn and foliage. “It’s good they left when they did. We uh…” She grimaced. “We didn’t really stand a chance, did we?”

“Hey from where I’m standing we’re all still here and they all ran away. At worst that’s a draw!” Sully watched as a support beam gave out and collapsed another part of Kari’s burning house. “Er, unless we’re counting property loss. Then yeah. They clowned us.”

Layla scowled, half-sitting up from Sully’s hold so she could better see Aislin. “Those losers cheated. I didn’t even get a chance.”

“Hey, you’ll get them next time, killer, now upsy daisy,” said Sully, hefting Layla up to her feet.

He brushed a bit of ash off of her shoulder, which turned out to be the bit of ash that had held the sleeve to the rest of her shirt, and frowned as the charred sleeve slipped down to her wrist like a bracelet. Layla made a face, picking at the fallen sleeve before shrugging it off entirely.

“Good thing this is last year’s fashion…” She said awkwardly.

He glanced between Aislin and Layla. He would’ve offered one of them his jacket to cover up with but he’d already given that to the kid (and frankly he needed it a little more). Fortunately, there were still plenty of Sycamore left behind who could keep them from catching a cold.

“Hey, anybody got an extra jacket?” He turned around to see that almost the entire Coven had already bailed. “Oh, cool. Later then, I guess. Fuck.”

He rubbed the back of his head and turned to Aislin and Layla, “Well, looks like we’re scooting before the police show up and bust us for arson. Did either of you need a ride? I got room in MY TRUCK!!! Sully slapped his forehead so hard that it sounded like a crack of thunder, echoing around the clearing so loudly that for a moment it seemed as if Vashti had returned and restarted her storm. “I left my windows down! They’re cloth seats, Aislin! Cloth! Seats!”

He pulled his beanie down over his face to muffle a scream.

Aislin's jaw dropped before horror overtook her face, “Don’t panic! Uh, fans! lots of fans and wet towels - Do you need to borrow some towels?!”

Layla just stared at the two of them with mild disdain, before she walked in between them pointedly, heading towards her motorbike. “I think it’s time to leave, then.”

She half-turned towards Sully, “I owe you one. You need a favour done, just let me know.”

Before she hopped on her bike, slid on a helmet, and drove off.

That just left Aislin and Sully. Aislin checked her clothes, or what was left of them, before sighing and turning to Sully.

“Uh, listen… I got a few spare fans and towels I can lend out.” Her head perked up a bit. “Could see who else is free and hang out a bit, what do you say?”

“I say we’re gonna have to bum a lot of towels, but fuck it, we’re already soaked anyway. Some buddies of mine had invited me to hit up this local taco truck a little bit, some joint called Los Agavez. I told them I was gonna be busy but if we leave now I think we’ll have enough time to catch them there. And, I dunno, if that bong survived, maybe we could…”

Sully’s voice trailed off as he reached into his pocket. A look of confusion crossed his face as he gave himself a quick pocket patdown: phone, check, wallet, check, keys? His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his jaw dropped, remembering throwing his keys towards a non-present Tayla and then getting too distracted by the bunch of jolly assholes trying to murder them to pick them back up. The beanie came fully off his head now as he stuffed it in his mouth, packing it in with his fist, gagging the followup string of curses. He spat the beanie out and gave Aislin a sad look, his shoulders dropping.

“Maybe we could rain check it,” he sighed, kicking the ground. “You go on ahead without me. I’ll catch up once I figure out where I left my keys. Plus, the storm might’ve put out a lot of the fire, but somebody should probably make sure it’s died down enough that it doesn’t spread…”

Aislin gave a sympathetic look, “A rain check it is... If everyone in Sycamore was as thoughtful as you, we’d have progressed by leaps and bounds by now, just saying.”

Sully smiled sheepishly. He wasn’t so sure about that.

Aislin sighed, giving a little stretch to her arms as she spied her car parked down the way. Unlike Sully, she had triple-checked the windows and doors were closed and locked. It wasted precious minutes, but it was her artistic OCD, she supposed.

She offered a smile, tapping her bag, “I got a hoot with your name on it, don’t forget.”

With one last glance, Aislin headed to her car, set her bag on the passenger seat, revved the engine once, before peeling out of the vicinity.

Sully watched the red taillights disappear around the bend and then slunk his way back into the woods. He pulled out his phone to use it as a flashlight and laughed miserably to himself as he saw the massive spider web of a crack in the screen, crunched by his own body when he’d dived to take the shots for a kid who’d turned out to not even need his help. Sully shook his head and put the broken phone back in his pocket. He got down on his knees, squinted his eyes, and began the long, tedious rummage through the tall grass where he was pretty sure he had thrown his keys, blissfully unaware of the crow looking down on him from a branch up above, cocking its head as if in confusion, the set of shiny car keys held in its beak jangling too softly for the man below to hear.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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Interactions: Clancy@Zombiedude101, Luca@Fernstone, Drake@Punished GN, the Group
Kari's House

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As Clancy trudged through the corpse and mud infested no man’s land to pull Sloane away from Luca, Sloane saw a young boy traipsing through the garden up to their studio. She smiled at the sight of her son, a smile that wavered as a thought punched through the illusion—if there was a desire within her to become a mother, it was something so well hidden that even Sloane was unaware of it. She could only think of her own childhood and her relationship with her mother and how she had sworn she would never have a kid simply because she wouldn’t be able to put somebody through something so miserable, especially when the ultimate reward for growing up and breaking free was still having to put up with life. She could never be so cruel. As her son’s face came into focus it began to flicker, becoming a jumbled, staticy picasso of shifting features as the illusion began to crack.

The walls of the studio fell away as Jasper and the child crumbled into dust, her vision clouding as a bloody tear was shed for her idyllic life and traced its way down her cheek. She wanted to fight back and cling to the failing illusion, but there was nothing left within her to struggle. She felt the pain now. The overwhelming, unbearable, indescribable pain. Perhaps in death she would rest in peace, but the moments up to it were nothing but excruciating torture as she felt everything inside of her begin to rebel. It wasn’t even the worst of it. Reality rushed back to her as memories filled her final moments—a sequence of cold shoulders and closed doors, the subtle nuance changes in body language whenever she entered a room, the hush of conversation, the crushing weight of constant, though not always undeserved, rejection, the forever boredom, the vast, all-encompassing feeling of loneliness.

However, in her final moment she wasn’t alone. She could feel the grim reaper holding her in an icy cold grip. It was difficult to tell what was and what wasn’t, but the angel of death felt shockingly diminutive. She heard a child shout out in unison with something that sounded as if it came from below. They foolishly called for someone to help her, simply unaware of her standing within the pecking order. Even the rain had let up, the weather declaring its utter indifference to the situation as her body went numb. Shades moved around her, ready to drag her into their folds. Then, moments before all feeling went away completely, she heard the shouting of her name followed by something pressed to her lips.

“I’m on it, buddy. It’s okay, it’s okay, slow sips now. Boy, I bet you’re happy you gave this baby back to me, huh? Slow sips, slooooow sips…”

Sloane blinked and the shades took shape. Drake had her head elevated in his lap while Sully nursed her with the Chalice, a knot forming on his forehead, with Ashley’s cousin standing besides the big man looking like he had been through a war. She was forced to take another sip of the elixir, wincing in pain as nerves eaten away by the rot came back and flared up before quickly being soothed again as Sully tilted the Chalice up a little higher. She stared in horror as if she had been bewitched as sinew, muscle, and flesh began to reconstruct her heavily decomposed body. Involuntary convulsions tried to twist her away from the silver goblet, but Sully firmly yet gently kept her head in place.

“Hold her still, dude,” said Sully to Drake.

She knew he was helping her yet her body couldn’t somehow understand that. In what felt like hours, but was likely less than a minute, she struggled against Drake and Sully in a panic, her attempts to scream drowned by the elixir. Sloane finally regained enough strength to force the Chalice away, sitting up with such violence that it startled Sully and caused him to springaway and fall on his rear as a blood curdling shriek erupted from the pit of her stomach. She was able to clamp a hand over her mouth, her other hand grabbing at Drake’s shirt, her body still not fully healed, the skin on her fingers dark and bloated, her bloodshot and bugged eyes staring at Luca in horror. She could see the worry on his face. It wasn’t meant to be an condemnation, but it sure looked like one. She wished she could tell him that it wasn’t her fault, but all she could do was muffle her scream and shake her head at him.

“Um, sis, you’re still a little, um, fuck it, sorry,” said Sully. He could feel for Sloane’s confusion. One moment he was sharing a beer with his dad, the next moment he came to with Anya beaning him across the head with the Chalice. Honestly, the illusion had broken for him the moment Anya had appeared in the camp. He would’ve invited her to go camping out of obligatory politeness, but never in a million years would she have accepted. Still, Sloane was covered with enough festering wounds that she wasn’t in the clear. It was in her own best interest that he acted.

Sloane felt her hand ripped from her mouth as Sully easily overpowered her and forced her to drink from the Chalice again. It wasn’t slow and steady anymore. It was a fullforce chug, chug, chug with the only thing missing being a couple of frat bros with popped polos hollering freshmen, freshmen. Sully winced as Sloane’s hand smacked him a couple of times outside the head, but he didn’t relent until he saw the skin on her arms return to normal. As he began to pull the Chalice away she grabbed the cup, keeping it there for a few more seconds, if only to make sure that the parts of her that had been putrefied were solid once again. He heard Sloane mutter something under her breath, perhaps a thank you or an apology, and gave her a reassuring pat on the back as he got up to give her some space. Sully shuffled over to Clancy.

“Good work on pulling her away, kid. You saved her life,” said Sully. He went to ruffle the kid’s hair but then hesitated, a vision of Clancy slashing through a man’s stomach flashing in front of his eyes. He withdrew his hand, only to then shrug off his jacket and offer it out to the boy who was basically covering himself up with little more than a few pieces of burnt fabric and a lot of hope.

“Here, kid. Maybe you can’t catch a bullet but you still might catch a cold. I’m gonna help Auri with the headcount. Make sure nobody’s off in the woods bleeding out. No running off, okay? You'll mess up my count. Plus, I ain’t losing that jacket again. I just got it back,” said Sully, turning to make his way towards Auri, fighting the urge to literally shout ‘Your Name’, feeling that now might not be the time for bad bits. He pulled a stack of mostly crushed disposable cups out of his backpack as he joined Auri. “OKAY, OKAY, OKAY, WE GOT HEAL JUICE FOR THE WHOLE SQUAD! TAKE A CUP, PASS IT ALONG! IF YOU SEE SOMEONE PASSED OUT, JUST FIND A HOLE AND START POURING! THAT...THAT MIGHT WORK?”

Sloane rested her head against Drake’s chest, eyes closed, quietly counting in two-three-four, out-two-three-four to calm herself, trying to regain a sense of control, desperately trying not to analyze her hallucination. She exhaled deeply and opened her eyes, fully registering for the first time that she was in Drake’s arms. She shoved herself away from him, her eyes blinking rapidly in confusion as she felt the wet of the mud against her thigh and the chill of the night air on her body. She looked down and let out a little yelp like a lapdog that had accidentally been stepped on. She felt her face flush as she covered her tattered clothes with her arm and quickly scooched back towards Drake to use him as cover.

“What happened to my clothes?” she hissed quietly, her mind still a little soupy from the near death experience. Her eyes darted around frantically as she scooted closer to Drake. “Wait, what the fuck happened to everyone’s clothes?”