Estylwen

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

I'll try to get one up by tomorrow evening.

@Click This

I'll wait for you, I can post tomorrow evening or the day after, which ever works.

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

I will get a post up either today or tomorrow.

@Theyra

Great!

I will have a post up tomorrow.

Dark Beyond: Voices of the Past

I'm assuming a lot here... that the holes leads to lower levels of the ruins. And maybe they're not true holes, but just portals. Because true holes would destroy the temples foundation. And despite them growing, the temple is still steady. Annnnd that one of the holes leads directly to Toren and that they (Vonny daddy) want Toren to be the sacrifice (because Toren was a failed experiment toy anyways). '>>

It's all I've got atm... Once Esty sad the weapons weren't color coded. The colors are prob red = blood (sacrifice room) / black = death (boss fight) but I'm not sure on the others xD

Edit, I haven't looked too deep into the directions on the map, BUT all the bigger sacrifice rooms seem to be located north, if I remember correctly

@Lexisheeps

You're correct on the holes being portals, and if you want to find out more about them...

Part 2 is up! Isn't much but it will get the job done. :)

@WhiteAngel25

Absolutely fabulous, that collab was swell to read. That means it's Lexi's turn!

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

Hey sorry failed to mention this before but I'm away for the week and writing from my phone is truly horrendous, so ill have my next post up Monday

@twannyman

Thanks for the heads up! Enjoy your week!

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

Savant Fullmoon

Savant “Savy” Fullmoon

18 | He/him | Human

Description: Through a cruel twist of fate, Savant was captured by the Clandestine when he was a wee child. Fabeled as a child with a superior gift, it was quickly confirmed he was, in fact, the child of the rumours, and to which those rumors were true.

So he's followed the Clandesine as a bound prisoner, allowed his wrists free when they saw he wouldn't run. There is, however, always a guard assigned to him to assure he won't run off. Savant has forgotten his home and his homeland, following the Clandestine across borders to achieve their goal.

He often points them in the right direction, though he can never say more than a vague word through his gift. These cryptic messages have taken getting used to, but the Clandestine endeavor to care for him, as one would for a special tool. He is hopeful that his cooperation will one day lead to his release, and he'll finally be able to return home.

Magic/Seed:
x Vis Circumdabit - A special ability where he can think or envision someone he's seen, and he can determine their desire at any given moment. This isn't restricted to distance - it doesn't matter how near or far the person envisioned is. However, this magic is a bit vague. He could, for example, envision someone and determine that they're desiring food, but would be unable to tell which type of food.

"What Did They Do To Us?" - A Mysterious Supernatural Escape RP!!

New post is up! Feel free to chat it up a little, then we'll move on to the surgeries. :>

Also, can everyone please update their CSes to include their nickname and their first unlocked power, when they have a chance?

"What Did They Do To Us?" - A Mysterious Supernatural Escape RP!!

VV

D-Class Wing, Cell Hallway

_{@Qia, @Silver Carrot, @Wayward}

---

”If anyone has answers, it'll be that bastard. I'm sure of it. But I doubt he'll talk easily."

D

VV glanced at the retreating figure of the scientist and his protection, before her gaze returned to D.

“I agree with you; he's definitely got answers. He even knew our codes.”

She hesitated a moment longer, gaze drifting between A and Pia approaching another cell mate, and the scientist, before she gestured with her head for D to follow, and she headed into the adjacent hallway.

Here the scientists were more numerous, the cellmates too. Dressed similarly to them, each with haggard eyes. She ignored it, instead focusing on their own scientist. Taking a bit of a closer look, he appeared to be middle-aged, with graying hair. He was paper thin, as if his diet subsisted on instant noodles. His eyes were the most disconcerting - just cold. He didn't care about anyone or anything except his research.

VV could barely veil the disgust she felt as she approached him and his guards, eyeing the three warily before speaking.

“You gonna explain who we are or why you're doing this?”

The scientist stared for a moment before smiling coldly. ”You're test subjects. Special ones at that, here for the Abyssal Connection Project. As for why I'm doing this…” His smile widened. “I enjoy it.”

V made a face, before turning to D, ”You want to ask ‘em anything?”

Meanwhile, A and Pia made their way towards the ‘psst’ing cellmate of 2.4, and he gestured for them to follow him into his little cubicle. It was well-lit, same as their own cell, save for the bloody handprints on the walls.

The cellmate, a young man with a few premature grays in his dark hair, and manically shifty eyes, ushered them in, sticking his head out in the hallway to ensure they were alone. Then he turned to them.

“You’re alive! Well, as alive as anyone can get in a p-place like this.” He said, stuttering a little over his words. He twitched every so often as he spoke, eyes shiting from the left and right.

“I don’t remember much. But I remember you. The scientists were furious, and you were escorted away after a mystery session. You know, where they just drag you away without telling you why…”

He ran a shaky hand over his hair, “There’s something different about you guys, though. The scientist actaully seemed happy this time around. I don’t know what changed, but I think they’re really gonna dive deep on you. The darkness. The d-d-dark…”

He squeezed his eyes shut, face pulling into a silent scream, hands pressing against his face.

“I…I c-c-can’t remember. The less I remember, the better it is. But I can feel it. Haunting memories, an echo, screaming at the edges of my mind, my mind!”

He seemed momentarily overcome, swaying from left and right as he held his head.

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court - NPC Sheets

The Clandestine

---

Valor Teardrop of the Clandestine

Valor Teardrop of the Clandestine

30 | She/her | Human

Description: Valor Teardrop operates out of Hathforth, running the Clandestine, a mysterious group of sword and magic-wielders. She's been in the area for twelve years, picking up scraps of secrets drifting down from the Hathforth castle through illicit means - bribery, eavesdropping, and sometimes forceful interrogation.

It appears Valor and her group have an outside sponsor - they are never hurt for cash despite never taking on typical mercenary work in the city. It’s this unknown sponsor that allows them the freedom to dedicate the whole of their time to unraveling the secrets of Hathforth Castle.

They make note of everything. Who comes, who goes. Who's in favour with the Wizard Queen, who isn't. Everything is carefully recorded, not a detail is misplaced. What their end goal could be, however, remains a mystery.

Magic/Seed: Currently unknown.

Savant Fullmoon

Savant “Savy” Fullmoon

18 | He/him | Human

Description: Through a cruel twist of fate, Savant was captured by the Clandestine when he was a wee child. Fabeled as a child with a superior gift, it was quickly confirmed he was, in fact, the child of the rumours, and to which those rumors were true.

So he's followed the Clandesine as a bound prisoner, allowed his wrists free when they saw he wouldn't run. There is, however, always a guard assigned to him to assure he won't run off. Savant has forgotten his home and his homeland, following the Clandestine across borders to achieve their goal.

He often points them in the right direction, though he can never say more than a vague word through his gift. These cryptic messages have taken getting used to, but the Clandestine endeavor to care for him, as one would for a special tool. He is hopeful that his cooperation will one day lead to his release, and he'll finally be able to return home.

Magic/Seed:
x Vis Circumdabit - A special ability where he can think or envision someone he's seen, and he can determine their desire at any given moment. This isn't restricted to distance - it doesn't matter how near or far the person envisioned is. However, this magic is a bit vague. He could, for example, envision someone and determine that they're desiring food, but would be unable to tell which type of food.

Spirit Teardrop of the Clandestine

Spirit Teardrop of the Clandestine

31 | He/him | Human

Description: Spirit is the older brother of Valor, and the Right Hand of the Clandestine. Whenever a little muscle is needed, or a little pressure, he is the one best sent for the job.

Learning magic meant to tremble the soul, his very presence causes the soul to shiver. He is ruthless under his initial decorum, usually going to outrageous lengths to complete his mission.

He is wholly loyal to his younger sister, whom he holds no contempt for as his leader. He is also wholly loyal to the employer of the Clandestine, the Ghost King of Ravenfell.

Magic/Seed:

Daze - Produces a powerful shock that dates and numbs a target.

Slow - Slows down a target.

Curse - A magic attack that causes physical cuts to appear wherever it touches.

Deshell (Remove magic resistance) - Makes magic attacks hurt more and hit harder.

Deprotect (Removes physical resistance) - Makes physical attacks hurt more and strike harder.

Aura - Causes intimidation to trigger through hallucinations that prey on an opponent's fears.

Faith Lancaster of the Clandestine

Faith Lancaster

38 | He/him | Human

Description: A long supporter of King Lamont DuFairre, even before he was a king. Faith was a battle mage who advised the black sheep House Marceilles before they took in the lone DuFairre. He was just a young sprout at the time.

Having refused to raise the taxes, tensions ran high between House Marceilles and the False King DuRant. But Faith inspired House Marceillies to wait, as they had the key to win the rebellion and restore order to Ravenfell. They had the last true heir to the throne.

Seasons passed, as more support leaned towards House Marceilles. Lamont grew into a young man under the watchful gaze of Faith. Faith had taught him how to grip his sword, how to cast a spell, and how to navigate the battlefield.

Finally, it was time. Lamont, House Marceilles, Faith, and a small battalion rode on their horses to the castle gates, and overturned Arthroyeaux, eventually finding the False King DuRant, and executing him.

Faith continued to watch with satisfaction as Ravenfell became peaceful under King DuFairre's reign, despite a few high-class members of DuRant's court escaping. Faith was soon made a part of the Clandestine to sniff out the remains of DuRant's court. Thus, his journeys have led him to Arrowfell.

Magic/Seed:

x Unknown.

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

Valor Teardrop of the Clandestine

Valor Teardrop of the Clandestine

30 | She/her | Human

Description: Valor Teardrop operates out of Hathforth, running the Clandestine, a mysterious group of sword and magic-wielders. She's been in the area for twelve years, picking up scraps of secrets drifting down from the Hathforth castle through illicit means - bribery, eavesdropping, and sometimes forceful interrogation.

It appears Valor and her group have an outside sponsor - they are never hurt for cash despite never taking on typical mercenary work in the city. It’s this unknown sponsor that allows them the freedom to dedicate the whole of their time to unraveling the secrets of Hathforth Castle.

They make note of everything. Who comes, who goes. Who's in favour with the Wizard Queen, who isn't. Everything is carefully recorded, not a detail is misplaced. What their end goal could be, however, remains a mystery.

Magic/Seed: Currently unknown.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Anya Baksh, Valencia Vorpal, Isabella Blackthorne

Saturday, 11:00 PM

The Apothecary

_{In collaboration with @FernStone}

---

“...You sure you doubled the guard?”

Valencia and Isabella Blackthorn sat in the stools at the bar of the Apothecary, sipping drinks. The House of Cards dive was quiet, with men smoking and talking amongst themselves in low voices. Looking to the backroom door would reveal a ‘Closed for Renovation’ notice on the wood, and a locked door.

No one was in a rush to go back there after what had happened with Mother.

Isabella nodded, taking another sip of her whiskey. “Yes boss. Doubled the guard and the scouts. No one will be able to get the sneak on us. Besides, haven't they said their piece? Ball's in our court, anyway.”

“‘Said their piece’. As if you could whitewash what they did.” Valencia's tone was cold, a growl over her smoke.

Isabella was unperturbed. “What I'm saying is you don't have to worry about security. Now, how did your meeting go?”

Valencia was silent for a moment, before losing the whole of her vodka back in frustration. “Bitch was lyin’. Luna's intel from ten years ago was good. I sure as hell have no interest in it, but we gotta look at all our options. Luna said she was able to manipulate dreams. No mention of devices. So why the hell-” Valencia tossed the black cube onto the counter. “-do I have this?”

Isabella picked it up and examined it, then whistled to one of her men. A large, chilled man with his hat pressed low stood at her side. She pressed the cube into his hands. “Have one of the techs pull this apart and put it back together again. Look for any listening devices, trackers, things like that.”

The man nodded and left out the front door. Isabella watched him leave, before turning back to Valencia. “Your contact may have her reasons not to trust you.”

“Yeah, or maybe we're about to get fucked over, again.” Valencia said with a cold tone, staring into her glass.

Isabella stared for a moment before pulling on the brim of her hat. “So we have a healthy suspicion. But we don't act. We both know… how well that went last time.”

Valencia gripped her glass, hard, and in a moment's frustration, slung it across the establishment so it smashed into pieces on the adjacent wall. Isabella watched with an unmoving expression, before turning to the bartender, Mr. Roosevelt, who was staring at Valencia with mild disapproval.

“Sorry about that, Ms. Roosevelt. You know how it is…” Isabella offered.

A quiet hush moved over the Apothecary. Everyone was still in grief. Valencia was simply acting out how they all felt.

Valencia stood from her stool. “I'm going home. Have the cube sent to me when it's ready.”

Isabella watched Valencia go. “Very well, Mother.”

---

Sunday, 1:00 AM

The Vorpal Manor

---

Dreams were a funny thing. One moment, Valencia was tossing and turning, waiting for sleep to come, an eye on the cube at her bedside, when in another moment, Valencia was somewhere else entirely.

She was at the Apothecary again, but instead of speaking with Isabella, she was speaking with her mother, Phantasia Vorpal. Yes, she'd recognize that wide-brim hat anywhere.

“Valencia, my dear?” Phantasia caught her attention, and she looked up from her drink, and right into her mother's endless pools of pink.

“Yes, Mother?”

“You haven't forgotten, have you?”

“Forgotten what?”

“My life debt. The duty I have to that orphan. You haven't forgotten that, have you?”

“Mom, it's dangerous. It also doesn't make us any money. I want to push us to a new level of wealth this year, and to do that I need all our resources pooled towards that.”

Valencia pressed a hand to her face, rubbing across her mouth as she huffed a sigh. “I can't do that if I'm looking after that little kid.”

“That little kid is part of the legacy of why House of Cards is even around today.” Phantasia replied.

Phantasia leaned forward a bit, resting a soft hand on Valencia's cheek. “Sometimes we don't do things for money, sometimes we do them for honour.”

In a discrete corner of the Apothecary a soft purple light bathed a booth. Anya stepped out next to it, changed into a more simple grey turtleneck and black slacks. The fountain pen in her hand was spun, before her hand dropped to her side. Her lips pulled into a slight smile as she glanced over at Valencia and Phantasia, catching the end of what they said, and she carefully sat down just out of view.

Valencia, unaware of Anya’s presence, focused entirely on her Mother. She pressed her head a little into Phantasia’s cupped hand. “It’s honour that hurt you, Mother. If we had just focused on money, we’d be fine.”

Phantasia softly shook her head. “If I ignored the ones who did us good, we’d be counting cobblestones and wiping the grime off other’s boots. That's not the life I ever would have envisioned for you, my dear.”

Valencia gritted her teeth, “It’s all Edict’s fault. He’s the reason you got hurt, mom. I’ll tear out his throa-.”

Phantasia placed a gentle finger on Valencia’s lips to hush her. “No… No my dear. It’s not his fault. It’s mine. I’m… I’m sorry, I’ve left you to shoulder a heavy burden on your own. But don’t cross those who have done us good.”

“What good, mom!?” Valencia’s eyes twisted up. “He ran to the Dollhouse and whispered your name, and lo and behold, Dollhouse came.”

“They wouldn't have hurt me if I cowered, and gave in to their demands. You must avenge me. Show them that we don’t bend easy. We will continue to do what we want for our people. It’s always about honouring our own people, my dear…”

Phantasia leaned in close and whispered in Valencia’s ear. “Long live the fighters.”

Valencia’s face crumbled a bit, and she buried her face in Phantasia’s chest. She took a few steadying breaths. “Mom, I miss you. I… How are you here? How are you alive?”

Phantasia was silent, merely smiling as she held her daughter. Valencia took another breath, her head hanging limply.

“Don’t tell me… I’m dreaming, aren’t I…?”

Before Valencia straightened, her head turning. She felt eyes on her. “Who’s there?”

Anya was silent, a single eyebrow raising. It wasn’t often that someone caught her when she merely observed - but Valencia did know that she would be looking at her dreams in some way tonight. It wasn’t an issue, really, to be caught like this. As Valencia’s gaze fell on her she smiled, raising a hand in a half wave. ”Apologies, I didn’t want to ruin your reunion.”

Valencia gave Anya a solid stare before looking back to her mother who, curiously, had disappeared. Valencia sighed, slowly standing, pitching the space between her eyes.

“Aye… Just talking to a ghost.” She said in a pained voice.

Valencia took a deep breath before her face set back into its neutral tone, and she approached Anya. “We took the black cube apart. It seems more like a gimmick than anything else.”

She slipped into the seat opposite of Anya. “I think you're more capable than you lead on, Anya…”

”People often are,” Anya said noncommittally. With a smooth gesture of her fountain pen, two drinks formed on the table between them - vodka for Valencia, and wine for her. ”But the box is more than just a gimmick. Without it you wouldn’t have started dreaming so early. Orange lux infusion. You wouldn’t find that out by taking it apart.”

She picked up the wine glass with her free hand, raising it slightly. ”I suppose I should give the magical explanation, then… Though I’m sure Luna has already told you. Simply put, I can enter and manipulate dreams. That box merely aids with that. It’s quite a pain having to try multiple times to enter a dream that hasn’t started, you see.”

Valencia stared for a long moment, her face not changing as she observed the drinks come into form. As Anya spoke, Valencia reached out and circled the rim of her cup with a finger, before picking it up.

“So it seems…” Valencia stared at the clear liquid in her glass, before her gaze rose to Anya. “I was wise to bet on you.”

She took a sip. Yep, the taste was the same, if not better, than the real stuff.

She set the glass down and leaned forward. “So here's the deal. I got someone I'm gonna need you to meet. Then go into their dreams and manipulate them to glean as much information as possible. Maybe scare the shit outta them too.”

Valencia propped her elbows on the table, resting her head on her hands. “Does that sound like something you would be up to, Anya?”

”It would, with some conditions,” Anya smiled, not seeming surprised by the request at all. It was what she’d expected going into it all - and only beneficial to her to get information from both sides. ”I want a guarantee I won’t be put in danger, and that I won’t be dragged into any conflict. I have enough to worry about on that front as it is.”

She paused, taking a sip of her wine, before putting it on the table in front of her. ”Who is it you want me to meet and manipulate?”

Valencia was quiet for a moment before she pulled a carton of cigarettes from her pocket, satisfied they had made it into the dream. She clicked a lighter, and smoke rose in puffs around her face.

“You have my word, you won’t be put in danger.” She said, before the cherry tip of her cigarette glowed with another inhale. Smoke curled around her face as she rested her head against the hand holding the stick, eyes unfocused for a moment before they locked onto Anya.

“You would meet them at a peace negotiations instigated by us. You’d be in disguise of course. Once you’ve met them, you’d choose their leader at the target, and start peering into his dreams. That’s it.”

She rolled her head slightly, taking another puff on her cigarette before she dropped this next bit.

“Your target would be those at Dollhouse.”

The Dollhouse? Anya covered her slight reaction with the rim of her glass, taking a long drink of wine that tasted far nicer in a dream than outside. Well of course. Based on what she’d glimpsed within this dream, the Dollhouse had killed the House of Card’s leader… well, the previous one. No wonder they wanted information and dream manipulations. Revenge born from love was a strong motivator.

Such a stupid, dangerous one too.

”Seems simple enough,” Anya inclined her head, as if she didn’t have an idea of the danger the Dollhouse could pose through Greyson. In a way, this was beneficial to her - whether she passed on useful information to Valencia or not, having an in to the Dollhouse’s leaders dreams was a step towards her shared goal with Greyson.

”So long as you keep your word and ensure I’m not put in danger, I agree. So long as their leaders dreams, I’ll get you information from his dreams.”

“Then we have an accord.” Valencia said, reaching her hand over the table to shake. Anya smiled, also reaching over to shake Valencia’s hand.

“When I wake, and you tell me what you saw here, we will discuss a suitable fee. Half then, half after you've given us details of his dreams.”

”Perfect. I’ll see you in the morning, then. Enjoy the rest of your sleep.”

Anya stood, fountain pen drawing a smooth, purple light through the air. Then, she was gone.

---

Sunday, 9:00 AM

The Hearts Club Casino

---

‘The casino that never sleeps.’

That’s what word on the street was about this place, with its neon-glowing signs and busy parkade. Within its gleaming revolving doors, one would step into the front foyer that would open up into rows and rows of slot machines surrounding a bright stage. On that stage, a singer was singing the blues, her voice a warm rasp over the sound of pulling levers and whirring machines.

Upon Anya’s arrival, her instructions were simple. Talk with any one of the attendants, and be escorted to the third floor.

At exactly nine on the dot, Anya stepped through the revolving doors. She wore a dark red blouse tucked into dark slacks, taking off her thick wool coat as soon as she was inside. An eyebrow raised as she glanced around the place. Normally, somewhere like this wasn’t her scene… but for a meeting it was best to do it on their ground rather than her own. She was too useful for them to hurt, and she didn’t want to risk bringing them to her business.

After the momentary look around, she approached an attendant, gave her name, and was led up towards the third floor.

Very efficient, she had to give them that.

The attendant opened the door to one of the offices, where Valencia was seen wearing a dress shirt, dark satin vest, a silver-blue ascot, and dark slacks. She had her chin propped on a desk, staring at a computer screen and a bunch of papers, when her eyes flickered to the door. She gestured with a hand to the seat in front of her desk.

“Come have a seat, Anya.”

Valencia finished typing on her computer before turning off the screen and pushing it aside, curiosity in her eyes.

“So… what did I dream about?”

Straight to the point, as with the other meetings. Anya liked that. She smiled and sat down. ”When I entered, you were talking to your mother. I won’t repeat what I heard, unless you want me to. Then we talked. You told me that you want me to go into the dreams of the leader of the Dollhouse, to manipulate them, after you bring me along to a peace meeting. Is that enough to confirm I was in your dream last night?”

There was a faint glimmer in Valencia’s eye, and a wolfish grin spread across her face. “That’s perfect.”

She opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a ledger and a sheet of paper. The paper she placed in front of Anya, with a bunch of legal jargon written across it. The ledger Valencia had in her hands, flipping to a new page. While looking at the book, Valencia passed a pen to Anya.

“Now, there’s just a quick form I need you to sign. A non-disclosure agreement. Essentially, you don’t say a word about the goings on here, and we have a fruitful business relationship.”

Valencia looked up, “Sound fair?”

A frown tugged at the corner of her lip, and Valencia added, “I also need to know what you think your time and effort is worth for a task like this. Name your price.”

Anya picked up the paper, beginning to carefully scan through it. She read every word, checking for any loopholes or special clauses. It appeared to be a normal, non magical non-disclosure agreement. Perfect. Something like this wouldn’t hold up for discussions within dreams - after all, what judge would believe that?

She smiled, taking the offered pen, but putting it down immediately. Her fountain pen was pulled out from her bag and she signed the NDA with a flourish. ”Of course, I understand.”

Anya pushed the form across to Valencia. ”I would like to ask something of the same in return. Don’t mention my involvement to the Sycamore Tree members you're in contact with. Quite frankly, I don’t trust Greyson- Edict, that is. And Luna… well, technically she isn’t part of the coven at all.”

It was a lie, of course, when it came to Greyson - but one she kept up around practically everyone. It was much easier that way… And she’d speak to him about this herself later.

“Consider it done.” Valencia said, her head rolling slightly. “Do you need it in writing?”

”Verbal agreement is fine. As for my price… ten thousand for this job. You won’t find anyone else to do it for you.”

Valencia kept her reaction off her face, instead turning her attention to her ledger, scribbled something in side, and closed it with a snap. The ledger and Anya’s form were placed back into their respective drawer, and a cheque book was removed. Valencia gave her fingers a quick lick before opening the book and flipping one page up, tearing it cleanly. Her pen wrote in cursive, quick strokes across the small sheet, before flipping it over to sign the back.

She looked up, her eyes veiled pieces of flint as she passed over the cheque. It had five thousand dollars written up for her.

“Half now, half when you give us some information.”

Valencia looked up at the clock. “When we organize the peace negotiations, I will contact you again. Remember, you’ll need to be disguised.”

Her head tilted. “Any questions for me, Anya?”

”Not for now,” Anya smiled, taking the cheque and slipping it into her bag. They had discussed their terms and come to an agreement, and the job entailed was agreed the night before. Any information she needed on Dollhouse… well she had more accurate sources.

She stood, smoothing imperceptible wrinkles in her blouse. ”I’ll contact you if any come to me, otherwise, we’ll meet again for the peace negotiations. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

Valencia nodded, a slight wolfish smile pulling at her lips. “The pleasure’s all mine. Take care, Anya.”

---

Layla Hyacinthus, Lynette Hunter-Richoux

Sunday, 11:00 AM

The Temple

_{In collaboration with @AtomicEmperor}

---

Another dreary autumn day. Except, this day wouldn't be like others. No. Today had the potential to change the future, for better or worse.

Layla found herself walking up the steps to the Temple, dressed for the occasion in a loose blue sweater dress and thick stockings. It almost looked like she was ready to go to church. And maybe she was.

Regardless, her hand hovered on the heavy doors to knock, before she pursed her lips, hand dropping, and instead entered outright.

Entering the warm wood floored chapel at this time of day was like opening the door into a library. Vines and plants were growing through the roof, and buckets sat beneath them as vague water dripped down into their basins at a snail's pace. The gentle noise echoed through the hall. And there, among the oak and the banners of orange and white, a woman sat in a dark, plain. It was thick, made of heavy fibers, and hung off her frame and the raised platform from which someone would typically speak with a weighty look.

Like wearing curtains. Her black hair and dark makeup sucked up the light around her, or at least it gave the impression of doing so. But black lipstick parted, and blue eyes shone out at Layla to mirror her own.
”Little Sister comes home…-” the woman gently spoke. Her body shifted, and she slid down to stand upright at the other end of the aisle. ”Layla Hyacinthus, if I’m not mistaken? Can’t get past that striking hair, or your cute little doll-like figure. Welcome, welcome back! We’ve missed you around here.” she finished.

”Lynette Hunter-Richoux.” Came the thought.

Void's little voice in the back of Layla's head hadn't gone away. It had only grown louder in the ghost's long absence. Once upon a time, Void had told Layla a little about The Temple, and Layla, naive as she was, never thought she would ever talk with them, much less be worlds dependant on them.

And now, here she was. In the home of the Queen of Light. Layla couldn't help but shiver as she hesitantly passed the pews, moving towards the pulpit of the church.

“Yes… Yes, that's right.” Layla spoke softly, holding back the ache in her chest. It was a mixture of heartbreak and a lack of medicine that would still get the better of her late in the night. But she just had to mask it for a little bit…

“Lady Richoux…?” She started, standing across from Lynette. “I'm… I'm here about…”

Her head lowered. “....Void.”

The woman shook her head, slowly walking forward.
”Oh, my Dear… We do look alike, don’t we? But, you’re not really remembering things clearly. Not from that night.”
Her grin was wide and her walk was slow.
”My name is Alena, but everyone just calls me Lena. I know, it’s terrible… All the faces, all the names. But, you’re looking for Her Grace? She’s surely aware of your presence, so in the meantime… Would you care to pray with me?”

Lena’s voice never wavered or broke the tone she started in, except to accentuate her question as if to tempt her on the tip of a fork with some kind of treat.

“Oh- my apologies.” Layla said, blinking. They really did look similar, and her memories from that night were something she actively tried to suppress. So, the mix-up was understandable.

Now came the bit she was expecting. She could feel dread sinking somewhere in her black hole of a heart, somehow drowned out by the plethora of other emotions present in her system. In the back of her head, a voice rang out that she was the perfect candidate to target as a new cult member. The vulnerable and weak were always great targets.

But maybe, maybe, she could welcome the tease, the testing of the waters that Alena put forth. Maybe.

So, Layla dry-swallowed, and nodded her head. “You’ll have to teach me…”

Alena was, if anything, poised and purposeful. She’d learned to use her entire body as a directory tool, a natural at guiding the eye and the mind toward a “logical” conclusion through motion and intuitive queuing. All she had to do was take a single wide step, which her heavy dress covered to make it look like she was gliding. She pivoted on her foot, almost sliding into place next to one of the pews.

”It’s not terribly difficult, I don’t think. You just need to have faith in your heart, and love in your soul.”
One of her hands had made such a smooth and seamless transition to daintily holding the back of the chair that it almost didn’t seem like it moved. Like she was just a wooden statue the same color as the wood, and blending in with it.

”Come, sit and close your eyes. Clasp your hands together, like the neediest child in the smallest box. For, when speaking to God, you must appeal to the Feminine: The Masculine will not hear you.”

Layla watched with transfixed eyes. Alena moved in such a pretty manner, it was hard not to stare.

And there it was. Yet another chair beckoning for her. Layla could only remember too strongly what events came forth from the last time she sat in a Temple chair. She pulled at the fabric of her sleeve, her nerves subtly making a display. Another swallowing of the lump in her throat, looking from the chair back up to Alena.

The way Alena seemed so self-assured, it was hard to resist. Before she knew it, Layla found herself with her back comfortably pressed into the back of the hair. Her gaze played across the pews and woody hues of the church before they slid shut, and she clasped her hands in front of her, as instructed.

As Layla got comfortable, Lena’s position shifted to lean over the pew above the young woman. She cleared her throat.
”Whenever I pray, it goes a little something like this.-”

The Fool

”-Mother, be still and hear your Daughter’s wails from the desolation in this purgatory. I beseech thee relieve me of the pressure and pain, and the Agony of this unfair and unjust world in which we live. I beg of you, with the makeup I wear caked like your ugliest clown child, my lowliness bare and poised at your feet. I beg of you your cradling hands, comfort me and allow me to take from what you may provide!”

She paused. The pew creaked as she craned her neck down closer to Layla’s ear. Her voice became lower, and deeper, until there was no woman left. It was growling, guttural, full of throat.

”And then, when I know I have Her attention? I typically ask for what I want… So, ask, Haunted Lamb. And I will protect you from your Demons.”

There was buzzing in Layla’s mind. A terriblesomething that demanded to be heard, demanded to be released.

Layla had never been the praying type, not with her history. But, maybe those unsaid prayers added up after years. Maybe all those cries in the night that went uncomforted came back. Maybe the darkness in her soul that hid the child that watched her family and home be burned down could finally speak.

And so she spoke. Softly at first, barely a whisper. Holding her hands tighter in their clasp.

“Mother… I have been hurting for a long time. I cry to no one of the pain I feel. But maybe, if you’re listening… Help me ease a bit of that pain. Help me regain a bit of the power I’ve lost. I’m tossed on the shores of other people’s desires and whims, on their designs and their plans for me, that which only benefits themselves.”

Her voice rose a bit, eyes squeezed shut.

“Every time, I am left to pick up the pieces of my soul on my own. I… There was a short time I had strength, I had freedom,- all of that. I felt like Layla!”

Her voice rose a bit more, filling the room.

“When I was betrayed, I lost everything. Mother, please! I beg of you, restore to me what I have lost. Restore to me my former glory, my strength. Free me from being this shaking leaf of a woman, not fit for even a serial killer’s blade…”

And she fell quiet, her hands moving to press against her face, to cover her shame.

Lena let the girl’s voice echo through the empty chapel. They hung in the air, letting the sound bounce around as she trapped it closer and closer. And then, silence.

”That’s good… You want control. But she’s never given anything to anyone who hasn’t earned it. Do you think, maybe, that you’ve come back to us for the chance to earn it?”
Her voice was still consumed by whatever was changing it. Like her throat was a meter wide, or made of gelatin. It wobbled in its impossibly deep bass tone.
”She’ll let you. I know she will…”

Layla couldn’t help but shiver, feeling strongly that she wasn’t just speaking with Lena anymore, but something more. She was afraid to open her eyes, afraid of what she might see. So she sat still in her chair, holding her hands together like they were a lifeline, a way to be free.

“Yes,” Her voice was soft once more, penitent. “Whatever you ask, I will do it.”

”Then you will listen to my apologies for that awful night, Sweet Girl.”
That voice. It penetrated the cold echoing around Layla and filled it with warmth and friendliness. Love. Safety.
”You’ll hear my sorrow. The loss of Alizee, and the grief of that damned Mafia. Their hold on her, and on you… And poor Void Heart.”

A finger slipped under Layla’s chin. Opening her eyes would reveal they’re no longer in the Chapel. Rather, a soft field of grass. A beautifully warm day in the meadow. Lynette Richoux’s face looked up at her.
”Thank you for coming to talk to me, Layla…”
She was dressed in pure white, two golden orbs hovering over her head like an abstraction of a crown or a halo.
”We’ve missed you.”

Layla’s mouth fell agape as she beheld Lynette Richoux. She was breathtaking to see, mixed with the other-wordly scenery. To call her ‘Lady Richoux’ almost seemed to fall short, so Layla instead opted for what she heard Alena say.

Her tone was full of awe. “...Your Grace.” Before Layla blinked, and her bottom lip trembled.

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have let Void do whatever he wanted. It led to friends betraying me, trying to keep me safe when all I wanted was to bask in the strength I’d received. I was selfish, and now I’m alone. So bitterly alone…”

Her head bowed a bit. She listened to the rustle of wind through the soft grass, felt the warm heat on her skin. She thought of Void, and her eyes misted over. It took a long moment to find her voice again, but when she looked up at Lynette, her voice broke.

“I know he’s here, Your Grace. I… I know he’s here… Please… have pity on me.”

Lynette shook her head, a singular rivulet of tears falling from the corner of her eye.
”But you must already understand that what you're asking for cannot be so easily undone.”

The illusion around them was somewhat shifting. A table became present, and on it was a banquet meal. It looked hot, fresh, delicious. Just prepared, steam climbed as the silver domes were pulled from the trays. Each had some facsimile of the Void Heart, tiny versions of him each dancing across one plate or another platter.

”I see the future. I see Void Heart, his predatory nature thriving in the New Eden. And you serve him, nothing but a vessel. Hollow, empty, and no longer yourself to enjoy that strength. Troublingly, I saw the same future for Alizee; only, that was all I saw. With you, I see… More.”

The illusion was more like a movie playing in the background. Looking past Lynette, perhaps exactly how she wanted, would show the table changing. Layla could watch herself sit down at the table, and Alizee sat next to her. Lynette came next, and then… Leon?
No. He was, somehow, bigger than Leon. Massive. Like a real life giant or golem or something. His dead eyes looked down at the plate, the little phantom of Void Heart dancing atop it.

In unison, all four beings took of their plate the small phantom, and in turn each would devour him whole. Alizee faded away, a look of sorrow overtaking her face, and the other two became stone. Layla was free to stand, and the weight of a crown made of the Void itself sat atop her head.

”If we were to give him back, to release him from his prison, he would be weak. Extremely weak, and at our mercy due to the nature of our rituals. It would become your duty to steward his recovery. By eating, and by doing so in a healthy, regulated manner. You must control him, no matter how tempting he is, no matter how charming he is. He. Is. A. Devil. And he must be a tool for you, not the other way around.”

Layla listened, staring hard at her own reflection - the girl with the Void crown. Was it really possible? Could she really be the one in control, having her strength to wield how she pleased, instead of the other way around?

She paused briefly, her breath frozen. She thought of Luca and his Rot, an unfair pairing. She thought of Luna and what she knew of her abstraction, and they never came across as having power fights or that Luna struggled in any way.

It meant it was possible to live, breathe, be real, yet still be tied to a being from the darkness. To have them be a part of your mind and soul, and not be overcome. It was possible to hold your head high, and wield your power as a Queen, not as a servant.

A burning feeling entered Layla’s heart, a feeling she didn’t understand, but it caused her to straighten her back, to settle her shoulders square.

“If you were to release him, you have my word that I would be the one in control of him. We would live here, under your watchful gaze, if you would allow us.”

She thought of Void in her mind, growing in size, as high as a skyscraper, looming over her. Her face was grim, pushing aside the fear in her heart as she reached out, and shattered the illusion. Void wouldn’t rule her. Not this time.

“If you were to release him… I would be one of your faithful children…”

Lynette breathed in deeply. All at once, the illusion faded. Lynette was pressed in between the next pew and Layla’s knees, hands holding the girl’s as she looked up with gentle eyes as blue as Layla’s own. Another hand brushed her shoulder, trying to comfort the poor girl.
”You will learn. You’ll learn that the petty creatures who cling to you now like a prized milker are little more than gnats. Pests. You’ll live with them, until you no longer fear them. And once you come to that place? Then we will return what is rightfully yours to command. And you will be one of us. One of mine.”

”You will be a Crone. A dear sister, and powerful. Nothing like what happened to you with the Sycamore Tree will ever happen again.” Lena’s voice spoke from behind her, like it had when the prayer first started.

”And it will be the same people who did what they did that will praise you for the changes you’re choosing to make. For becoming so much stronger. They’ll all love you more for it, Layla.”

Layla blinked, a hot tear rolling down her cheek. Then another. She sniffed, gently removing one of her hands from Lynette's to wipe a sleeve over her eyes, grimacing as she tried to hold the relief back.

“You know I've… never really had someone say that… really.” She said, a wet smile pulling at her face.

She swallowed once, then nodded, eyes glancing from Lynette to Alena. “I'm ready. I want them to be proud of me… and… I want you to be proud of me too.”

Lynette stood slightly, pulling Layla into a gentle embrace.
”I already am! And soon, when they see you doing better? They will be too… But most important of all, sweetheart… In New Eden’s Dawn, you will sit atop a throne of your own. And then? Then, you will be proud of yourself! And we won’t let you fall… We’re here.”

---

Luna Inoue, Edict Devola

Sunday, 9:00 PM

_{In collaboration with @AtomicEmperor}

---

Luna sat in one of the booths on the right side of the Elder Lamb, nursing a small cup of sake with its matching bottle. Not that she planned on slamming another one back, not that you were suppose to slam it back. But there was a lot on her mind.

She was dressed for business in an black asymmetrical dress with a matching fur shawl. The weather called for layers now, anyways.

Her eyes didn't bother glancing around the room. She knew she had men in the booths with eyes and ears open, ready to swoop in and save her if hell broke loose again, and another attack happened.

She didn't care. It didn't matter. None of it mattered…

In one fluid move, Luna swallowed the sake in her cup and poured herself another glass, waiting for her contact- for Greyson, her friend, to arrive.

After the meeting at Auri’s flower shop, Greyson was well aware that he couldn’t just let people go around making decisions. Between the Void Heart situation, and now this, House of Cards was starting to look more and more like a liability in his profit sense. But that didn’t mean they weren’t family.
As he pulled into the parking lot, he made it clear to the men with him that they weren’t going to be repeating what happened here the last time. Ergo, the men stayed in the car while he entered the building alone. He figured he’d find Luna in Phantasia’s favorite spot, and made for it directly.

He saw her there, alone, and scanned the place for any sign of trouble. A couple faces stood out at a nearby booth, mostly from the funeral. Her security detail. Everyone needed one these days.
”Luna…” Greyson’s voice rolled forward. He didn’t sit, standing before her in wait for her to offer the spot. ”Are you holding up okay, sis?” he asked, his arms extending as if to hug her.

Luna looked up at Greyson, her face betraying a tiredness that only the grieving knew. She stood and gave him a hug. An old friend was finally here.

“I'm alright, I'm alright.” She said, clearing her throat and gesturing to the booth seat across from her. “Please, have a seat.”

Luna had an extra sake cup, filled it, and passed it over the Greyson. She tried to think of anything except the last time she saw him, which was at the funeral. So, she opened with something unrelated. At least, marginally unrelated.

“Tayla came to me… Told me you were in trouble with the Dollhouse.” She said, looking down at her sake before taking a sip.

He almost crushed the sake cup in his hand.
”Doll-what?”
Cool, cool. Be cool. The mantra rocked through his brain like an earthquake that halted his motor function before instantaneous course correction. His head tilted slightly.
”It doesn’t really ring too much of a bell. They’re like, Cartel, right? Magic cartel or something? Kind of a fruity name.”

He tapped the little glass off the table, raising it.
”Kanpai, Sis.”

”Kanpai, brother.”

He let the liquor aerate between his lips, slurping gently and tasting the unique notes that came with good sake. His tongue smacked around for a moment as he took in breath, letting more air rush across his taste buds.
”But, speaking of the rumor mill, you’ve suddenly become a big topic at the Sycamore Roundtables. You been stalkin’ Adora?” he asked, doing his best to power the redirection into a new state. A grin came over his face.
”Get any good pictures?”

Luna smacked his shoulder across the table. “Hey, we're supposed to be talking about you, not me.” It was one of those rare moments where she'd actually smile.

Her smile fell flat a moment later. “Tayla was seriously worried. Told her I wouldn't do nothing till both of you talked about it. A common enemy is a common enemy though, ain't it?”

She smirked.“Play dumb all you want.”

Sue leaned back, eyes leaving to scan the interior of the Elder Lamb. The humor in her face slowly turned to an unpalatable sadness.

“They really don't care for me, after all these years… Do they, Greyson?”

A cold snort passed through her nose, her head turning to look at him. “I did, by the way. A Sycamore-Greenwood alliance sounds mighty fine. Maybe it'll give the hardheads in the group, _{like Drake}, more sense.”

He shook his head at her, not entirely sure about whether or not Drake Blackmore could get much more sensible. Some people just lived on low points.
”Listen… They were talking about killing you. I’m not gonna let that happen, Luna. And I’m certainly not going to put you in the crossfire irresponsibly. So, whatever Tayla told you? I need you to forget it. And then we need to get our stories straight, because I’m supposed to be spying on you for people who don’t trust you.”

This time he finished his pour without the extra tasting. He didn’t care.
”So, what’s with the cursory photo taking? Are you looking for people concerning the Void Heart beef?” he tried to cut through their matching upbringing to get what he needed to get. It wasn’t something he wanted to press her on any more than she wanted to be pressed about it, surely.

Luna's eyes dimmed, betraying mixed feelings. “...Killing me, huh?”

She knew they were scared. But to be that scared…

Luna's eyes narrowed. “So you're interrogating me? Is that what our friendship’s been reduced to?”

A quick chug of her sake, allowing the burn to scorch her throat without tasting it, before she set it down firmly on the table. “And you're asking me to forget about those-who-shall-not-be-named? They took my mother, Greyson. I'm more invested in this than you, now.”

The fire in Luna's eyes simmered as her face downturned. She propped her elbows on the table, resting her cheek against clasped hands. Her eyes had that faraway look to them.

“...There are many reasons I take my photos. Just like there are many reasons why Sycamore is unlike any other group in the world.”

Her eyes flickered up, a hint of sadness in them.

“But yes, it's for the Void Heart. Partially. Any information I can get, I need. If, for example, Jack Hawthorne decided to hole himself up in his little Void pocket and cut off all ties to the outside world, I'd want to know…”

Greyson took a long, deep breath.
”I’m not here to interrogate you. I love you, Sue. Even before the Sycamore Tree, we were causing trouble together. You’re more of a sister than the ones who I share blood with.”

He extended both his hands across the table, offering them to Luna.
”I give you my palms! My open hands, for you to know that I’m not lying when I tell you that we can’t pursue it right now. If You-Know-Who are involved, then I think they’re involved in much bigger issues that we’ll need to address as a Coven. As one big family. And that includes the both of us! Which means holding back on our bad habits… Don’t you think?”

Luna stared at Greyson, before her lips twisted, and she hurriedly tossed down another mouthful of sake. “I hate it when you get like this, Greyson. You know I can’t refuse a brother.”

She was steady with another pour, starting to feel the sake spin around in her head. It took the edge off, just a little. Staring down at the liquid in her cup, her lips pursed, unwilling to give in to his wholehearted demands. Before she sighed.

“Fine. No more spying. And we won’t make a move against them. It’d be suicide right now, anyway.”

They had other plans, but they were in different avenues entirely. Luna sat there, somewhat satisfied she could agree to this without lying.

“...You… really think they’d have me back? You said so yourself, they want me dead, Greyson.”

Greyson’s hands clasped together as if he were tossing up a prayer to Heaven.
”Yes, Dude! Yes, they’re afraid of you because they’re afraid of our association with our Families, Suzie… And I know it sucks being told that the way you live isn’t right. But you and I both know that we’re capable of doing terrible, terrible things to people. But we have to channel that differently.”

He poured himself another cup of sake and gave her another as well. He held it up in the air.
”Things are different. They can judge us, they can be leery, but you know what? We’ll be so fucking useful that they won’t be able to deny us. And when we’re done? Dollhouse is next. And to the Brothers and Sisters who help? Square a piece. As is in the Old Country. Salute e Kanpai…”

Luna’s expression softened at that. “Salute e Kanpai…” And she tossed back another cupful of sake.

She was feeling pretty good in that moment. Good enough to move on to the next task of the evening. Meetings were for more than plotting out next moves. They were for business-business too.

She leaned forward, letting the sway in her head do the talking for her. “Useful. Yes, that’s right. And speaking of being useful, my Fam actually asked me to see if you’d be free tonight. Late, around the wee hours.”

Her eyes glanced to the side. “We’re uh, sending down a group to do some questioning at Veni, that strip club. We might need someone who can read a mind to glean info that’ll be useful for the Sycamore… to our Coven…”

Luna’s face turned pleading. “This could be my big ticket in, finally. Please, Greyson. It’d mean a lot of you could do this for me. And of course we’d pay you.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, listening to what Luna was saying about spying on Veni. On Wolfpack? He knew that Judas had been killed, and that the club itself was a wreck. But he owed Tayla. If there was any chance that Dean was there, Greyson wasn’t going to hesitate to make sure that was one less scumbag on the planet.

Leaning in, he cleared his throat.
”Right, right… Veni. Where Alizee died, right? The uh, the Wolfpack stripclub?”
He furrowed his brow, trying to think about it.
”It may be a little risky. What the hell were you guys planning on doing?” he asked, erring on the side of caution for these sorts of things.

Luna’s head tilted, and she propped an elbow on the table, resting her head. “We got a tip some of the strippers have info. Good info. The only issue is getting them to talk.”

Her other hand gestured across the table, and she nodded at Greyson, “That, my brother, is where you come in. No one can lie to you.”

She waved her hand in an effort to disperse his worries, lazy confidence in her tone. “No one’s gonna know you were even there. We’re planning on doing the questioning off-site. You got nothing to worry about.”

Edict nodded. It wasn't the best idea to be spying on people who were just as likely to be connected to Dollhouse as him. But, he figured Luna and the House had at least some sort of ability to cover him.

”There can't be any chances for them to spot me, Sue-Loo. They could be just as leashed up to Dollhouse as I am, and if I'm discovered… It's bad news, dude. Seriously.”
He nodded to her regardless, taking a breath and thinking about what he was getting into.
He cleared his throat.
”And… Compensation. Not immediately, but, I want you to start thinking of allocating funds toward an ‘Oh Shit’ policy. In case things go really far south, and people need your help. Got it?”

The relief that flooded Luna's face was strikingly apparent. She nodded. “Of course. We'll have them blindfolded. They won't even know you're there.”

Darkness colored her face as he brought up Dollhouse again. “Those bastards…” Her chin jutted out defiantly. “Nothing's gonna happen, brother. You have my word.”

Her head tilted, and her eyes slid to the sake, and back at Greyson as he spoke. A pause as she absorbed what he said.

“...People being you, the Devola Family, and the Sycamore, yeah? Consider it done, my friend.”

She paused, before her brows knitted solemnly. “What are you gonna tell Sycamore…?”

Picking up the bottle, he felt it starting to get a little low. Still, he poured another drink for the both of them. His head shook, and he closed his eyes.
”There’s nothing to tell them. You know too much already; you’re in danger, and if you know what’s good for you when it comes to Them, you’ll forget about it until we’ve had a chance to maneuver. Then we’ll get revenge for Auntie P.”

Luna stared for a moment, before she felt herself resign, and nodded. “Very well. I'll follow your lead on this one.”

She glanced at her filled cup, shrugged, and offered a “Kanpai.” before tossing it back. She considered that she'd have to try standing, and wasn't really looking forward to it.

“We could talk for ages, but I think that's all the business I had to discuss.” Luna started, before throwing a few crisp bills on the table and slowly making her way out of her seat.

The world spun so very strongly, and she gripped the table. Her men noticed right away and came to her aid, supporting her.

“‘Till next time, Greyson.” She said in passing, before the House of Cards exited the building.