kapuchu

The Three Realms War [A DMC, Bayonetta and Darksiders RP]

And a new girl is in town! Or in the Citadel, as it were.

The Three Realms War [A DMC, Bayonetta and Darksiders RP]

Frustrations had to be let out. Some people fought, others wrote down their issues, and some people channelled them into art of various kinds. Lily was neither of these.

In some ways, she resembled a great deal of human women in this regard, in that she went shopping. Although, to call it shopping might be a misnomer, as what she did was usually either plain steal, or manipulate the cashiers into letting her leave without paying. This time, however, was different, for she had actually paid for all of the items currently contained within the three, large bags dangling from her arms. One she had filled to the brim with new clothes, seeing as how a couple of sets had been ruined lately, thanks in part to her shapeshifting — she really needed to find a way to let her clothes meld with her form when she became half dragon, like she did when she let her magic take over her body — but she also because she had had second thoughts about a few of the attires she had... acquired the last time she had gone shopping, and had subsequently torched them. A pink cocktail dress, really? She grimaced at the mere thought.

The other two bags were occupied by less fashionable items, with one of them doomed to smell like the living dead if not refrigerated. Its contents were courtesy of a few German butchers, and should hopefully serve as a snack for Fenn. Possibly two. Sausages, hams, beefs, lamb chops, et cetera. She couldn't help but wonder what he'd think of the curry wurst. It was something of a delicacy, or at the very least good enough to warrant its international fame. She liked it, at the very least.

The third, and final, bag was filled with an assortment of jewellery and random nicknacks, sans a peculiar, cylindrical package, and was only about filled halfway, and was the smallest of the three bags at that. She had had the modesty to only buy the things she knew she would use at some point in the nearest future. That being the next hundred or so years.

As it was nearing night time, Lily decided that it was time to take a rest before returning back to the Citadel, and the rest of her temporary allies. She found a tiny square that was, for the most part, abandoned, save the occasional drunk or cocky teen passing through, and sat down on one of the nearby benches. She discarded her hat — it was akin to a very wide-brimmed fedora — and let her hair tumble down her back; thick, wavy and the colour of cornflowers. The day had been exhausting, not the least of which was because of the fighting in that obnoxious forest. Actually, it was mostly that. The arrogance and hypocrisy of the angels, their blind loyalty and ignorance. They had failed to heed her warnings, failed to see that there was more to gain in working together, and so had been the cause of yet another seal being destroyed. Not even the famed Son of Sparda had been of much help. Heirs of the mightiest Demon to have ever existed; so strong that even she dared not try to compare herself to the monolith that was Sparda. Sometimes the apple did not fall far from the tree. In this case, it had tumbled down the hill, it seemed. Had he at least been successful at stalling him, she could have vaporized him then and there. At least the fragment of his power that had slithered its way into the mortal realm.

She sighed, feeling some more of her frustrations and tiredness from the day escape her. Shopping always felt nice. Simply the act of being able to acquire new things; the novelty of it was what enticed her so. After so many years, she wondered if perhaps it was only natural to desire novelty. Strange though it may seem, and much to her surprise, she never quite seemed to catch up. There was always something new. It made her smile. Humans, she thought.

She rested a hand over her breast, feeling the slow beat of her own heart, and the cold, glassy surface of the necklace she always wore. She held it up for herself to see, quirking an eyebrow as her green eyes were reflected in its metallic surface. Green really did go well with this hair colour.

Black on red on black. An obsidian sphere, ruby sphere, and an obsidian oval. A gift from times long since past, and the beginning of a tradition. It resembled an eye few humans had ever seen, fewer demons and angels still. She remembered the day fondly; so long ago, and yet still so vivid. Who would have thought that—

A faint rustle from above, like that of flapping clothes against the wind. Lily reacted without thinking, acting on instinct far moreso than any cognitive thought. She was on her feet—paws—before the sound even came within metres of her; her body already that of a half-feline and a long, straight blade held in her grasp.

A distinctly human shape wreathed in cloth fell down where she had been, its silvery blade piercing the bench where she had been seated moments before. It moved in a blur, tearing the blade out of the bench and charging against Lily once more, forcing her to parry. Moving faster than any human should be able to, the attacker struck again, moving fluidly, and expertly moved past Lily's defense and struck at her heart, only for the attack to bounce off of a hastily made Projected around her torso.

Enraged, moreso that someone dared risk harming her medallion than herself, Lily went on the offence. Her opponent was an expert, but she was stil the faster one. She met her blow for blow, fighting back the cowled figure, forcing them on the defensive as she hailed down attacks with swords, axes, polearms and spears. And yet, somehow, her opponent did not back down, flee, or even get hurt. Every slash was parried; every lunge flicked aside.

Finally, she had had enough, morphing her sword into her black-read spear, point at her opponent. From beneath the cowl she could see a smile, and then they charged. She held them on point, and lunged.

A flicker of silver, and the spear was knocked aside. Lily didn't even have time to process what had just happened before she felt cold metal against her neck. Cold and slightly damp, as if mist clung to it. She looked down at the cowled figured, glanced at the mirror-polished blade, then at the hand holding it; delicate, feminine, and around the wrist... A bracelet, with a ruby, a sapphire, and a piece of obsidian attached to it.

Realisation dawned upon her just as her would-be assailant pulled back the hood, smiling up at her with violet eyes. "Bonjour mère."

It happened so rarely that it was a novelty to feel it again: Surprise, and delight. "Fayette, Little Fairy," she said, returning to her human appearance. She pulled the other woman into a hug, feeling another pair of arms wrap themselves around her. She only let go several long moments later, holding her at arm's length. "Decades," she said, smiling wider than she had thought herself able to today, "it's been decades, and not a word. But, what does it matter. You're here." She sighed, but ended up chuckling halfway through. "Attacking me, really? I could have seriously hurt you," Lily said, worry in her voice and on her face.

The woman, Cassandra, grinned wider. "Judging by your frantic swinging with your sword, I don't think she," she said, speaking with a light, French accent. She let her gaze fall, and gently ran her fingers along the medallion around Lily's neck, smiling fondly at it. "But, you have improved."

"Have I now?" Lily asked wryly, only to be met by that unbelievably sincere smile again.

"Oui."

Lily chuckled in spite of herself and let go of Cassandra, moving over to where the contents of her bags lay scattered across the ground. It came as no surprise to see Cassandra kneel down beside her, and help with putting everything back where they belonged. She held up a couple of golden earrings, squinting at them thoughtfully, then glancing at the other woman. Maybe... Yes. I think that would work. She held up the two golden hoops in front of Cassandra, and met her uncertain stare with a nod. "For you," she said.

Cassandra went through a series of facial expression at that statement; from surprise, to delight, to suspicion, then to a quiet joy. "Thank you," she said and accepted them, making quick work of the tags. She had them in her ears a few moments later and was inspecting herself in a mirror she conjured herself. "How much did they cost?" She asked, turning to Lily.

"About two hundred euro," she admitted while carefully putting the cylindrical package back in its bag. "Why?"

Cassandra turned to face her fully, trying to meet her eyes. "And did you pay for it?"

Lily nodded, smirking as she met Cassandra's gaze. "I did."

"Your own money?" She pressed.

Lily was about to say that, yes, they were her own money, when Cassandra did nothing more than raise an eyebrow. She pressed her lips into a thin line and looked away, an embarrassed blush painting her cheeks.

"Mother!"

"He bragged about how much money he had," she said in her own defence. "I hadn't intended to steal anything until I heard this braggart talking about how rich he was, and showing off his wallet to his date. So I thought I'd just... Teach him a lesson in humility. So I helped... him?"

Cassandra sighed, hanging her head. "Qu'est-ce que je vais faire avec toi."

Lily huffed, and glared at Cassandra. "Don't use that tone of voice on me, little Lady." She paused, then mellowed out a bit. "Regardless, I didn't take from someone who needed the money badly. If his car and clothes were anything to go by, emptying his wallet didn't really hurt him much."

Cassandra looked up, squinting at her, then allowed herself a small chuckle. "You never change, mother," she said and put the last dress back in the bag. She rose and handed it to Lily. "Please, never change."

She took the bag, and hefted the two others. "I have no intentions of doing so, Little Fairy," she said, and meant it. "But what have you been doing lately?"

Cassandra shrugged and donned Lily's discarded hat. She nodded approvingly. "Très peu. I was in Russia a couple months ago, travelled here through Ukraine, went through Poland and spent a few weeks in Czech, then came here a week or so ago." She turned in place, looking at the various buildings and rooftops, stopping only once she faced the setting sun, her eyes locked on the red-and-purple clouds. "And you?" She asked.

Lily hesitated, unsure of how much she could say. Cassandra was her daughter, one of the few people she trusted completely, but this was dangerous knowledge... And yet, she was a grown woman, however many centuries and millennia separated them. By human standards, Cassandra was among the oldest in history. She could make her own decisions. "I have been involved with the Charred Council. They are the faction that enforced the ceasefire between Heaven and Hell some two millennia ago. Someone is out to break the Seals and force another cataclysmic war; one that will inevitably result on Humanity's extinction of not stopped." With every word she felt her hackles rise; felt the churning core of fire in her gut start to flare with anger. Her fists clenched almost of their own accords. "I can't let that happen," she whispered, forcing herself to remain calm.

Cassandra, on the other hand, did not seemed so torn up about it. She was studying Lily, her face almost impossible neutral. Casual, even. Someone who knew her less might have thought she didn't care, but Lily knew better. She was just good at hiding what she thought. Always had been. Once Lily had finished her small tirade, she crossed her arms and looked her mother square in the face. "I'm coming with you," she said, then held up a hand to forestall the rebuttal Lily had already opened her mouth to say. "No ifs, no buts. I am older than most humans will ever be, and I am a part of this world as much as anybody else. Even moreso than you, mother, because I am half human; a fact that I am proud of. And that's not even mentioning that even you," she swept an arm out at Lily, "who taught me everything I know, cannot beat me with a sword, and you have literally twenty times the experience I do. So no, I will not let you keep me out of this. If my family — if Humanity — is in danger, than I am not going to sit idly by."

She didn't know what to say. She didn't even rightly know what to feel. Anger? Sadness? Concern? No... Neither of those. The one that was most prevalent was one she was oh so familiar with. It was Pride. Not in herself, but in her daughter. And it was said pride that swept aside her anger, and brightened her entire expression. "If that is what you wish, Cassandra," she said and put a hand on her daughter's head, ruffling her hair. "Now, if you really wanna join, you probably should meet the rest. There are actually two other Humans fighting beside us." She turned to the side, calling into empty air for one of the Watcher's to appear.

A few seconds passed by before the inhuman, six-eyed creature that was one of the Watchers faded into view before them. It regarded Lily with something akin to disdain, and annoyance that it was forced to answer her call. Something she returned with a smirk.

"We need to return," she told it, and reached out to grasp Cassandra's hand. "This is Cassandra, she will be joining us in the fight to defend the Seals. You have no objections, I hope?"

"None. I'm not the one who's bringing a fashionista — with horrible fashion sense, I might add — to a war." If it had a mouth Lily knew it would be grinning. "But it's not me who's dying. But fair warning, the Citadel might make your fancy shoes dirty!"

Neither Lily nor Cassandra replied, simply staring it down until it, finally, it seemed to grow tired of trying and snapped its fingers, bringing them to the realm of the Charred Council.

---

They appeared before the gates that lead to the Citadel, and while Lily was used to it, Cassandra was not. She gaped wide-eyed and open-mouthed at it, muttering a quiet "Wow." She wordlessly followed Lily into the fortress, heading for their room.

"How big is this place?" Cassandra asked, still looking up at the ceiling far above them, and around at every door and hallway they passed.

"No idea," Lily admitted, turning down one such hallway. "Big enough to allow an elephant to walk around without much trouble. As for the entire fortress, I can only guess. Far larger than any human castle I've ever seen." She stopped in front of a large double door, placing one hand against it but didn't open it. She turned to Cassandra. "This is my room, which I'm sharing it with someone else. I'm sure you remember how to get here—" Cassandra nodded "—so you're free to go explore. For the most part, just ignore the Watchers, they are like foul-mouthed imps. Anyone else here will most likely be friendly, maybe a bit confused as to your presence, but explain it to them and everything should be fine." She pushed open the door a bit, allowing Cassandra to see just enough to spot the large, queen-sized bed in one end of the room. "Now, I'll get my things here sorted out, and come find you later. Come find me if you need anything."

Cassandra nodded, and managed to dart in and give Lily a peck on the cheek before she darted off, a faint "À bientôt, mother!" In her wake.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Lily remained wary of the golem as it approached, keeping her tails moving behind her should anything happen and she needed to unleash hell.

Brucie seemed more intrigued than cautious, looking every time something sparked, glinted, or made a sound, and it was only with the utmost self-control, and—Lily suspected—the knowledge that she would be more than a little sour if he started picking things up, that he refrained from poking around at the nearest oddity.

Luckily for her and her companions, the Golem shed its skin, as it were, leaving behind something that resembled a human. His arms were still stone, and he wore an odd eyepatch. She kept her expression carefully neutral, her only response to him was a small incline of her head, by way of greeting and answer to his question. In a way, she appreciated the way he discarded the usual niceties, instead going straight to business.

She looked at Brucie expectantly, and the Shark stepped forward and extended his right arm, displaying the broken water cannon. “Would like to see if you could repair this,” he said. “Got broken yesterday, ain’t better than a kitchen tap now.”

On instinct Serval reached up toward the defunct weapon, but his stony chrome fingers stopped a few inches short. His one eye’s gaze turned inquiring as he hesitated. “Does it detach? If so, may I take it?”

The hammerhead gave a nod, and with the curled metal talons of his other hand reached over and began to tinker with the arm casing into which his cannon was slotted. In a few seconds he had opened part of the panel, and after unscrewing both the power cable and the hose Brucie handed the apparatus over.

Gingerly Serval took hold of the object, making sure to pluck it from Brucie’s grip rather than touch his mechanical hand. Once secure, the cannon was brought up before the smith’s eye, and for a couple moments he scrutinized it in great detail. Only the hum of magic and machinery keeping the scene from complete quiet as Serval pored over the weapon, but his face did not deviate from a mellow half-smile until he held his other hand over it and cast some spell, loosening the screws via some near-invisible force until he could see inside. It was then that Serval raised his eyebrows with a contemplative frown, looking over the cannon’s inner workings until he parted his lips with a hooh. Lowering the device, he hung his head in unhappiness. “I am ashamed to admit before honored guests of the Great One that I am unfamiliar with the intricacies of this armament. As such, I would need some time to be able to repair it.” His demeanor now very serious, though tinged by melancholy, Serval raised his head and looked between Brucie and Lily. “I dare not ask you to settle for less, but if it would be at all helpful in the meantime, I can construct a facsimile that operates on magic, able to generate and expel water at high pressure. That would take only a few moments.” With furrowed brows Serval placed the broken cannon on a nearby table. “I can say with absolute certainty that any weapon made under the authority of Air Rave will serve you exceptionally well. So, may I oblige you in this regard?” He clasped his huge, stone fingers together in front of his bare chest, as though begging to be given the opportunity to make up for his shortcoming.

Lily opted for silence still, letting Brucie choose. She didn’t know if the original weapon had much, if any, sentimental value, or if there was some intricacy to his mechanical appendages, that required the cannon to remain attached to his arm. She arched an eyebrow at him, as if to say ”Well?”

Brucie met her eyes briefly and seemed uncertain, if she were to be a judge. Still, he wasn’t human, and his expressions were always difficult to read. He shrugged a few moments later and addressed Serval. “Sure,” he said. “If it works just as well as the last one, and doesn’t run dry, no complaints. Could you make it so it can also send water bombs, too? The other one could do that. It worked, like—” he mimed the firing of a bubble of water, that then exploded “—this, basically. Big ball of water goes boom when fired away from me.”

A grave nod came in reply, though when Serval came up, he was smiling. “Understood. You may wish to stand back, though of course I will be ensuring that nothing hits you, regardless. I hope that my workmanship satisfies.” He pulled apart his hands, and clenched his fingers. In an instant that amount of static electricity in the air shot through the roof, but before anything else could happen, Serval released the energy he stored.

A wave of electromagnetic power surged outward from Serval, filling the entire workshop in no time flat. As they were touched by the energy, compartments in the walls opened up, revealing racks of materials of all sorts. Unbidden, pieces of metal sprang from their resting places, lifting toward Serval like schools of fish homing in on some tasty prize. Parts reached their master and began to fit together or orbit his person. Eye blazing with the same hollow light seen in the golem before, Serval orchestrated the assembly of his project with a conductor’s precision and grace. The cloud of smaller components constructed a couple, larger parts, each analogous to the elements of Brucie’s cannon, which hovered loosely in the air between Serval’s hands. From a colorful rack of metal-housed crystals beside the magic chamber, a handful of pulsing blue gems darted over, taking up a spot in the center of the array. Once they clustered together into a diamond, its combined power stronger than any of the originals stones’, a pronged capsule formed around it that resembled a maw, which closed with a snap around the cluster. With that done, the other pieces converged on the newly-made core one after another, until the final few pieces slotted into place to finish the sleek contraption that made a slow descent into Serval’s outstretched mitt.

With an extravagant bow the smith held it forward. An oblong shape with a clear barrel at the front, it resembled a polished river pebble with a gargoyle face on the front. A lengthwise divide separated its outer shell into an upper and lower half. “Here you are,” Serval said. “It requires no outside attachment, and should socket into your vambrace nicely. Its jet should have no trouble carving through rock at close range. To fire normally, clench your fist. The sensory system was originally made for a living being’s arm muscles, but I attuned it to Mechanica instead, so it will pick up. To fire a bomb, place your opposite hand on top and push down. The bomb will build for as long as the top is compressed, becoming larger but slower. The crystal core will generate water for a long time, but when it does eventually run out, simply find a water source and place the barrel inside. The extractor doubles as an injector, you see. It will infuse and store water just as I believe the original did with electricity.” Serval held his hands behind his back. “My apologies for such a boring explanation. Even if it is a trinket that is unworthy of the Great Ones, I hope you’ll forgive me for excess of pride in my work. Even that artifice is leagues beyond anything a human artificer could dream of, after all. Please utilize it to the utmost, and let me know if I can provide any other help.” Around the three, the infused atmosphere faded, and under the burden of their own weight the various compartment doors throughout the shop fell shut, their troves hidden once again.

Lily hummed and looked over the contraption, clicking her tongue at it. She might not have cared about fashion once, but she had picked up a few opinions of her own over the last decade; just enough that she thought the gargoyle-like mouth of the cannon was tasteless. Or perhaps just needlessly intricate. However much she wanted to, even she couldn’t deny that the work had been accomplished far quicker than she had anticipated. She had expected at least an hour, not a mere minute, if not less. In truth, she was glad that Brucie now had another weapon, as it would make him that much more powerful.

She had witnessed firsthand how powerful that thing could be—and if this Serval’s claims were to be trusted—it now had the power to cut through rock. She did not want to experience what it would do to flesh. The blatant show of power was as exasperating as when Carreau had done it, but she could not argue with results. At least, not until she had a chance to witness it with her own eyes.

She cast a glance at Brucie, one eyebrow raised. “Well? What do you think?” She asked.

“It’s good, I think,” he said, and stopped himself halfway from clenching his fist. He let his metallic fingers relax and instead poked and prodded it with his other hand. Then, in a remarkable display of forethought and intelligence, asked, “You said that the water supply can run out. Any clue how long that’ll take? Say, how many seconds or minutes would it last, if I fired it non-stop?”

Holding one hand up to his mouth, Serval tapped his chin with the knuckle. “Hmm...those were medium-grade crystals, so only about an hour, I’m afraid. Perhaps an hour ten? Medium is the highest grade I’m permitted to use casually, considering all the different types.” His eye widened a touch as he seemed to infer what his guests might be meaning. “I can request access to higher grade if you find the duration, power, or so forth are insufficient. It will only take more time, which I had assumed was of the essence since you decided against repairs.”

Lily looked up from the new weapon, a slight look of perplexion visible on her way. “‘Decided against repairs’? I was under the impression that this new cannon would be a temporary solution until the original had been repaired.” She pressed her lips together into a thin line, and looked at Brucie. “Or was I mistaken?” She asked hesitantly.

Brucie looked away from his arm and down at her. “Now that you mention it… Ya think that’d be possible, Serval? I don’t, and I don’t think Boss-Lady here does so either, mean to take advantage of the… generosity you’ve shown us.”

Lily quietly thanked Brucie, and agreed with him. She didn’t trust the people in Air Rave, and so staying on their good side was imperative. Being thankful, and mindful to not be greedy when offered a gift, was more important than ever before. She nodded along to his words.

Serval, meanwhile, looked appalled. “I must have misinterpreted your response!” he told Brucie, clapping a hand to his head in self-chastisement. “Please forgive me! I’ll study the weapon night and day until I understand how it works, and can fix it. Of course, new understanding is for the good of Air Rave, too. But my presumptuousness is inexcusable. Oh, I must be casting such a pall on our honor...” He shook his head, and gave a final bow before heading toward the table where he’d placed the broken cannon.

“On the contrary,” Lily said slowly, choosing her words carefully and recalling the tone and intonations so often used by Sylphide, who was known for both her kindness and regality, “your willingness to apologize and make amends, does you and Air Rave credit.” She drummed her fingers against Mouse’s head, causing his ears to flick in mild annoyance. Why was it so damnably hard to be diplomatic? Think. Think. Don’t insult. Accept his apology, but remain in power…?

She caught Brucie’s eyes and he, whether noticing her silent struggle to be cordial, or simple luck, gave her a quick nod before he continued where she had left off. “Like what Lily said, I don’t think it’s bad. Just a misunderstand, is all. Fuzz-Boss—” Lily’s eye twitched “—and I didn’t make ourselves clear, and we also misent… misinterpreted what you said.”

At this point, Lily took over again, old lessons resurfacing. She stood tall, ears forward and tails calm. “And we don’t want to look a gift-horse in the mouth, as it were, but if you would be willing to also repair the old weapon, we would be much obliged. We do not, however, require or demand that you sacrifice your own health to accomplish the task within an unreasonable time-frame… So we—I—apologize for any distress we caused you.”

Throughout the joint effort at placation Serval had been attentive, having turned from his retreat to listen. His tense nerves grew relaxed toward the end, and by the time Lily finished his remarkable distress could scarcely be seen. He took a deep breath, and gave the pair a grateful smile. “Not at all! It is a relief to hear that I’ve not erred too greatly. I am interested in the weapon, so I will devote some time to studying it, but I’ll not go overboard.” He rested a gleaming hand on the nearby table, leaning a little. “And thank you. For your concern. But now, I’m certain I’ve wasted too much of your time. If there is any other way I may service you, please do not hesitate to tell.” He proceeded to seat himself, evidently offering his final statement as farewell if Lily and Brucie had any other business to attend to.

Brucie gave him a grateful, if clumsy, bow, and Lily did her best to mimic it, albeit far more gracefully, pressing her palms together in front of her before doing so—or as well as she could with Mouse still in her arms. “I don’t think there’s anything else,” she said, righting herself. “Although… You don’t happen to have a leash, do you?” She asked, and hefted Mouse so as to emphasize who it was for. “I’d rather have one for him so he doesn’t run off in a place I am unfamiliar with.”

For a brief moment Serval looked confused, though he put two and two together in short order. “A leash…? Ah, for your pet. I don’t have much leather, but I’m sure I have some.” He practically jumped to his feet, his metal legs creating a resounding boom that he ignored, and he jogged over to a large cubbyhole near the entrance. When he opened it, this time by hand, he set to rummaging through the hides and fabrics that filled it until he turned up a harness. With speed and accuracy he pulled bits of it apart, until all that remained was an adjustable loop and a length of hide off it. “A task devoid of my usual flair, unfortunately,” he mourned as he returned to Lily and offered the leash to her. His eye lingered on the little dog’s furry face for a moment. “Delightful creature,” he murmured. The next moment he regained his composure, and hurried back to the cannon. “If I’ve done all I can, then I bid you goodbye.”

Lily accepted the leash with a grateful smile, albeit a small one; only slightly more than the corners turned up. “Thank you,” she said and set Mouse down, fastening it around his neck until it was secure, but loose enough that he wouldn’t be choked. She might have been imagining things, but he gave her a look of what was almost betrayal, but otherwise cooperated. She’d need to bribe him with treats later.

“What now?” Brucie asked, looking up from his new arm-cannon for all of a moment, before returning to poking at it excitedly.

“He offered a dinner earlier. I wonder if the offer is still valid,” she said while adjusting the length of the leash to give Mouse a little freedom, but still keeping him close to her side. “Speaking of Carreau, however,” she said a few moments later, almost as an afterthought. She turned to Serval. “He asked me to say ‘Hello’ on his behalf.” She inclined her head and turned to leave, Brucie at her heels and Mouse at her side.

Back the way we came. It was… This way. Should be able to find our way to Carreau from there.

Ianus Congreatio: Secret societies, horror, and mystery in the shadows of Prague.

Birth Name: Anna Havel
Other Names: Miss Havel

Gender: Female
Age: 21

Rank/Titles/Social Class: Born to a wealthy merchant, Anna's status is relatively modest. She possesses neither the blood nor connection with nobility of any kind.

Appearance:

Appearance Example

A young woman of medium height, Anna stands at just about 160cm tall, slender of build almost to the point of being petite. She has a heart-shaped face with large, expressive, green eyes, and freckles dotting her cheeks and rather small nose. Due to a habit she blames her mother for inspiring, she is almost always seen with red-painted lips. Spending most of her time in-doors, working, she is rather pale as a result, and sometimes finds herself likening her skin to being the colour of moonlight. The rest of her follows the same theme; small hands and feet, though with nearly cornflower-yellow hair that falls in waves down to her waist, the bangs kept in check by a few decorated pins gifted to her by Lucie.

While on the job she usually wears a relatively standard maid outfit, composed of a long, light blue dress with long sleeves and loose fit, over which she wears a white apron, that also becomes akin to a dress from the waist down, the edge stopping a few centimetres above the angles, as opposed to the inner, blue part of the uniform. Her hair is usually tied back in a ponytail or hanging free, but other times braided or otherwise done up.

Personality:
To call Anna a sweet girl would not be wrong, but neither is it entirely accurate. While thoroughly loyal and sweet, she possesses a slightly mischievous streak, that occasionally compels her to make a verbal quip that others with more self-restraint might not have said, something which a particular member of the society finds increasingly entertaining. They are, however, never meant to insult or offend, and only the most uptight and, in her own words, people with the biggest sticks up their arses, will ever take offense at anything she says. Beyond that she is incredibly attentive and quick to learn, especially when it has to do with one of her favourite hobbies: Needlework. Be it knitting, crocheting, or sewing (she is, however, partial to embroidery, sewing various animals into pieces of cloth to hang around her home), so long as it has to do with needle and thread she is always eager.

But in spite of her occasional impishness, she takes care to do her job diligently, and to keep her sharp tongue in check, save when she is around people, who would find it as entertaining as her. As such, she has avoided making too many nobles and members of the Ianus Congregatio scowl at her.

Psychic Talent:
Anna's ability is something a lot of people would equate to future sight, or mind reading, but neither of those are accurate. She does not hear other peoples' thoughts, nor see images of what is to come. Rather, Anna has the innate ability which allows her to expect what people around her wants, often before they have even spoken a single word. In most cases it simply helps her be a maidservant who acts quicker than anybody else. Another application is one she has, in the past, used for self-defence, where it allowed her to foresee what her assailant wanted to do before he attacked, allowing her to duck far before his punch was even halfway toward her.
In less serious moments, it allows for incredible wit, words having formed on her tongue that, much to even her own surprise sometimes. Other times it allows her to know that someone is approaching, and so will open the door even before they knock.

Skills:

• Sewing - As a result of her work, and hobby, Anna is proficient with the needle and thread like few others.
• Cooking - Even though she was born to a, by all accounts, wealthy family, and had some servants, she still learned to cook. She may not be a gourmet chef, but she can make something tasty almost regardless of ingredients.
• Wit - Perhaps not an extraordinary skill, but Anna is a clever and quickwitted young woman, and often has a smart reply on the tip of her tongue.
• Mathematics - Having grown up as the daughter of a wealthy merchant, and having watched him go through ledgers, calculations, and various transactions, Anna has gained a keen sense for numbers and equations.
• Business - Maybe not on par with the likes of Aleksandra, Lucie, or Adam Ware, but Anna has still learned enough watching from the sidelines, to have an above average sense for business, including how to watch the market for when there might be a shortage of surplus of various supplies, and how to make good investments.

Weapons/Fighting:

• Marksmanship - Anna possesses just enough skill with firearms to wield one with sufficient proficiency. She would win no contest were she to even enter.
• Hand-to-Hand - Anna knows how to throw a proper punch, but little more.

History:
The date is March 16th 1869 and Anna Havel cries for the first time, newly born to Jana Havel, and greeted was by Josef Havel - her father - and her older brother, Krystof. Her father was a wealthy merchant trading in spice and expensive fabrics, and whatever else he can get his hands on. She grew up with a comfortable life and received a proper education, which involved some lessons on how to defend herself.
All things considered her life was uneventful up until her thirteenth birthday, where she started to notice ideas popping into her head that, whenever she acted upon said ideas, caused peculiar outcomes. Never anything bad or scary, but always peculiar. She would move out of the way while standing underneath an apple tree, only for an apple to fall down exactly where she had stood moments before. She would watch their cook go about his business, only to pick up a particular spice he would then ask her for moments later, only to notice she already held it. This continued for a few years, where she went about her days confused as to what exactly was happening, though not frightened since nothing bad had happened as a result of this 'Intuition' of hers.

It was when she was nearing her sixteenth birthday that a stranger approached her and her family. Someone who introduced themselves as a representative of the Ware Family, and announced that they were currently looking to expand their staff, and were interested in hiring their daughter, for however long she so desired, or until she were to marry, whichever came first. At first stunned by the prospect of having a daughter work for a family of old nobility, Josef and Jana soon agreed to let their daughter work there. Anna was, however, sceptical and stubborn, and it wasn't until this member of the Ianus Congregatio revealed - during a private chat between the two of them -that he, too, possessed a unique talent like herself, and that many others who lived in the Manor possessed very similar abilities, that her hesitance began to wane. He explained to her that many in the House Ianus possessed talents of a psychic nature, and that she had been approached exactly because of hers. That steady work and pay were not the only things she could stand gain by agreeing to this arrangement, but also the continued development and understanding of her Talent, as well as others'.

Knowing all of this, and swearing herself to tell no one of the truth, Anna Havel agreed, and thus went on to work as a maidservant in the Ianus Congregation, learning to better harness her Talent, as well as learning so much more about the world of Psychics she had previously been unaware of.

Random:

• She is the personal maidservant of Lucie Ruzicka, having been requested for that position within a month of Lucie's arrival at the House Ianus. Wary at first, due to the younger woman's incredible height and sometimes odd mannerisms, she soon came to enjoy the position, as the two shared the same kind of wit.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Having placed his hands in his pockets, Emile listened with rapt attention as his new acquaintance made her reply. The edge to her voice told him that she did not appreciate his refusal to swear by her binding oath, although to think that possible would have constituted an error in judgment. For her to expect someone in his position to willingly give a stranger with her own agenda power over him, though, was as naive a hypothesis. No doubt suspicion riddled her, which Emile couldn't blame her for given the myriad reasons why trusting him would be unwise, but what choice did she have? Lily seemed to know it, too, and in the end offered him a different arrangement in which he had nothing to lose.

Though prepared to answer, he kept his silence as the kitsune continued, particularly when she revealed her phylactery. Its light and movement caught Emile's eye, and a certain notion popped into his head—one that would make things so simple. For a few moments the urge throbbed within him, but in the end a wry smile appeared beneath his helmet, and he did not move. Instead, he bore quiet witness as visible emotion wracked the woman before him, new and poignant details of her past laid bare. When Lily ceased her explanation, he removed his hands and held them palm-forward, at an angle away from his body. “From the sound of it, it would be utter foolishness for me to inflict any harm upon you. I'm not at all afraid, then, to give you my word that I will not try to kill you. Having felt myself the pain of living without my friends and family for years, I sympathize with your plight, though that's not to say my woes compare to yours. Hopefully, our cooperation will be a fruitful endeavor for us both.”

From his back, a green-blue light began to shine, and at once twin streams of magical energy burst forth to take the shape of wings. Emile stepped from the top of the pillar and floated down toward where Lily and Brucie stood, his wings of aether shining in a slow dance reminiscent of aurora borealis. When his boots touched stone, the wings disappeared, and the owl stood eye-to-eye with the fox. He half-turned to the left, reaching out a hand toward where the curved swords lay against the stone. From nowhere a rush of wind, visible in the form of a greenish-white eddy, sent the weapons flying into his hand. In a casual manner he held the two by the middles of their scabbards by his side, and with his other hand he indicated the great raven not too far away. “Let's head over, then. Food, lodging, armament, whatever you require. I'm anxious to introduce you to my friends: my Armada, the lasting legacy of the others who left me too long ago. Although, some are my own.” He glanced back toward them. “Oh. I should have mentioned, but while Emile is my original name, it cannot be said to be my true name anymore. I'm better known as Carreau, the Skydiving Prince of the Air.” With pep in his step started off in the direction of the colossal bird, back turned to his new comrades. “I'll thank you to use that name,” he spoke on, “And to forget about my past. Who I am now is all that matters: the last remaining Great One of Air Rave.”

Lily gave a curt nod and followed, stopping only briefly to pick up the dog her arms where he huddled contentedly. Her expression changed little during the walk, and she said even less. She seemed either unwilling to talk, or had nothing she deemed important enough to say.

The animalistic quartet approached giant blackbird over rough terrain, angling toward where its tailfeathers touched the ground. As they grew closer, a prodigous stone staircase became visible along the central plumes, and upon reaching it Carreau began to climb without delay. A good few dozen steps later, the grand gateway into the citadel loomed over them, and Carreau took a moment to mutter something seemingly to himself.

“Mask Presence, off.”

Though difficult to discern in what light the bright windows of the great structure provided, the air around Carreau flickered. Before anything else could be gleaned from the strange shimmer, something hit Lily and her friends in the whole of their beings. Not quite a wind, or any visible power, it struck them as a purely mental pressure radiating from the masked man before them. Suddenly he did not at all seem like some game-playing shmuck in an overcoat, playing with unearned power. Now he gave off the impression of a ruler--no, a warlord, with immense power and malice kept at bay only by incomprehensible wisdom and mercy. He bore an unmistakable, unignorable authority, one that might be describable only as the aura of a higher being, as he set his armored boot upon the final step and sauntered toward the open gate. And yet Lily barely even twitched, looking about looking more bored than impressed.

To either side of the doorway, standing guard, was a sentinel in heavy, white armor, each bearing an intricate bident and a tower shield formed of interlocking wings. Between them, just slightly to the left, a woman stood at attention. She wore clothes somewhat reminiscent of a formal dress mixed with a kunoichi’s garb, white and black in coloration, albeit with a blue-to-red gradient on the scarf that replaced what might have been a fancy collar on more traditional formal wear. The feathered throwing daggers on her belt gleamed in the glow of the interior’s crystal lamps, just as did the single black eye that glanced Lily’s way from beneath a crown of white hair tied in a ponytail save for the leafy bang that covered the other. Her look severe, she bowed to Carreau before straightening up and clasping her hands behind her back. “Lord Carreau,” she said, her soft voice in sharp contrast to the hardness of her stare as her gaze returned to the kitsune. “I take it your treaty was a success.” Lily answered her glare with a casual smile.

Carreau waved his free hand. “At ease, Penning.” Even his voice had changed somewhat, from fairly normal to a flinty tone with a deeper, English inflection. “You are correct. Lily here, as well as her dog and her friend Brucie, are to be treated as guests. Please spread the word.”

Penning nodded. “At once.” Though her tone gave a clear indication she had more to say, she grew quiet with an inquisitive look at Carreau following a glance at Lily. After he gave a succinct nod, she continued. “During your absence, Lord, Mister Screed returned. He and Frolic found Verrine and revived her. They await you in the atrium.”

Perking up a touch at the mention of the name, Carreau crossed his arms. Beside him, the released swords floated upon a cushion of air. “Excellent!” The word seemed to inspire relief in Penning, whose tension -visible until this moment- ebbed.

“Also, Clotho’s network reports an end to the fight in the Park and what appears to be another battle about to begin in the inner city.”

Carreau snatched the swords once more and began to walk. Penning pivoted to the side to let him pass, then with a final glance at Lily turned to walk beside him. “Good. The details can come later. For now, let us welcome your sister back to the world of the living.” Half-turning back, he beckoned to Lily’s group. “Come along. If you’re going to be working with us, it will pay to know every face.”

“It will,” Lily replied slowly, her ears and eyes never at rest as she took in her surroundings. She still carried the dog, holding him close to her chest. She followed him for a while before she spoke up, asking, “a question has been bothering me for a while. You evidently already have the ability to revive the dead. What more power could you possibly attain, than overturning the one constant in existence? I know you’ve said you want to be able to be the equivalent of a game master in your video game world — yes, I figured it out, you didn’t really make it difficult — but short of deleting other players, what power could you gain that you do not already have?”

The odd group’s stroll down the pristine, cathedral-esque corridor paused for just a moment as Carreau stopped walking. A knuckle held against his chin signified his consideration for the question. “I must confess I do not know what you reference with the word ‘game’, but if you are curious about my goals, my desire is the return of my fellow Great Beings. Once that is achieved -and perhaps a few other things, such as removing the limiter that prevents any future growth from me- I need the wish no longer. Even at our strength, Air Rave faces an uncertain yet exciting future, and I would not cheapen our struggle.” He resumed his walk, Penning alongside him. The angle of her head suggested that she paid her master’s words rapt attention.

Not far ahead stood an ornate door. Carreau held out a hand, and a gust of wind pushed it open to reveal a huge, stunning room with a domed glass roof. For the most part it was empty, save some decoration here and there, and the presence of a handful of figures around the central fountain. Penning and Carreau headed straight for them, and as the distance was closed, the strange shapes of those waiting became more clear. One appeared to be a mummified cowboy, complete with six-shooter, poncho, and wide-brimmed hat. Beside him stood a curvaceous woman of rose-pink slime clad in an apothecary’s robe. Opposite her, lounging on a stone bench, sat a woman in hide brawler’s armor beneath a red priestess cloak, her blue hair poking out from beneath the hood. Right beside her, a broad, squat, mustached man with ashy gray skin and a smart-looking pinstripe suit only a few shades darker smoked a cigar, ruby-red eyes peering out from beneath his fedora.

“Umm… Boss, do I still need to wear these?” The voice was the Shark’s, directed towards Lily. He had one one of his metal legs lifted, and pointed at the mushroom-filled skirt and shirt that tied them to his feet. “We’re not really sneaky anymore.”

Lily seemed to consider it a few moments, idly scratching the dog behind one ear. “Alright, take them off. Stuff the clothes in the bag somewhere not filled with pastries. I might be able to repair them when I get home.” She then directed her attention to the crew of individuals before her, taking a step and a half to the side, as if to not get blocked by Carreau. She betrayed no reaction as she looked slowly from one to the other, merely giving each a shallow nod of acknowledgement, and greeting.

Before anyone could say anything, the slime woman threw herself at Carreau, almost bowling him over and causing Lily to take a step back. Everyone else present winced to varying degrees, embarrassed on the apothecary’s behalf. She embraced him in a sloppy hug, rose-red tears welling up around her eyes. “Carreau!” she bawled, “I’m sooo sorry! Instead of trying to find you...I went off and got killed fighting for some stupid wish, I-I brought shame on Air Rave, on you, on everyone! I thought you’d hate me, I’d never see you agaahaaain!”

Stiff with mortification, Carreau laid a hand on her head and patted her shoulder with the other. “Agh! Don’t...uh, do not worry, Verrine. All is forgiven. You’re back with us, that’s all that matters.“

Verrine fell silent, still shaking. The uncomfortable atmosphere lingered until the gunslinger let out a cough. “Well!” he rasped in a gruff voice as dry as his bandages, “That’s mighty kind o’ ya, Lord. An’ mighty nice to see the bunch reunited.” He crossed his arms, turning slitted yellow eyes on Lily and Brucie. “So who’re these folks? Ah, where’re mah manners.” Removing his hat, he revealed a bandage-wrapped, spike-crowned head that most certainly was never human. Holding it across his chest, he performed a slight bow and introduced himself. “Mah name is Screed. If yer a guest o’ Lord Carreau’s, yer a friend o’ mine.” After replacing his hat and straightening out, he joined the others in affixing the newcomers with an expectant stare.

Lily met his gaze and dipped her chin, never taking her eyes off of him. “I appreciate it, Screed. My name’s Lily, this is Brucie,” she waved a hand at the mechanically enhanced shark, then at the dog still in her arms “and this is Mouse. As for why we’re here, Carreau and I have made an arrangement, of sorts. I will leave it up to him to relay the details, but suffice to say it is... mutually beneficial.”

Behind her Brucie nodded, seemingly agreeing with all she had to say, but then spoke himself, “also, is anyone here an engineer? If’n we are gonna work together, I’d like if someone could look at my water cannon and see if they could maybe repair it? Hardly better ‘n a hose as it is now.”

Penning bristled. Though she held her tongue, perhaps anticipating what Carreau might say, her annoyance indicated that Brucie and Lily both had broken some sort of rule of conduct, even in the short time they’d been present. Mr. Screed, however, replaced the hat on his head and shrugged. “None o’ us here. Maybe Serval could help ya. Our artificer. Or, maybe he could whip ya up somethin’ new to replace it. Reckon this weapon of yours shoots water? Shouldn’t be too hard to replace.” His arms disappeared beneath his poncho, and his eyes shifted to the squat, suit-wearing cigar smoker as he hopped down from his bench.

Taking out his cigar, he released a cloud of black smoke in the newcomers’ direction, then turned to Carreau. Instead of craning his neck to look up at his master, the mustached man pulled a ledger from his coat pocket and tapped it with his knuckles. “Sir. Early report on the ancient city. Lots of soul energy, see?” He released the pad, which floated up to land on Verrine’s head. Having calmed down but not yet relinquished her grip on Carreau, she opened her eyes in surprise, but the ledger had stuck fast. A quick look around made her realize the embarrassing situation she’d put herself in, and with a nervous laugh she detached herself and stepped back. With a shluck she pulled the report free, straightened up, then handed it to Carreau.

A turn of the owlman’s hand created a swirling eddy told hold the item in the air beside him, One by one he spoke to those present who had yet to state their business. First, he faced Screed. “Was there anything else you needed?”

The deadshot shook his head, unleashing a minuscule cloud of dust. “No, sir. Jus’ wanted to see y’all together an’ meet the newcomers, really.”

Next came the priestess. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Finished the assignment.” Contrary to her stately robe, the maiden’s voice was rough and growly. “Shock absorption’s good, but basically no resistance to cuttin’ or piercin’.”

“Ah. I’ll go over the genetic blueprints with Clotho later.” Everything taken care of, Carreau addressed Lily and Brucie. “We got off on a little tangent there, but I will go ahead and conclude these less-than-formal introductions. You’ve met Mr. Screed now. My retainers are Verrine, Penning, and Margot.” From where she’d slouched this whole time, the red-cloaked woman gave a casual wave. Carreau then indicated the short, ashy man. “And this is Egon Baratta.”

“The pleasure is all yours.” Ego gave a terribly slight bow of his own before turning to walk away. After only a few steps, he dissolved into a stream of ash that shot across the atrium and through an open door.

Evidently thinking such an exit standard fare, Carreau continued. “What would you like to do, then? I can summon a servant to guide you to Serval’s workshop, or to a guest room, or you may join Verrine and I for a meal.” The slime woman’s eyes practically lit up at the mention of food, just as Carreau anticipated.

Lily, on the other hand, frowned at the proposals, her lips pressed into a thin line seemingly in deep thought. She shot a glance towards Brucie, her eyes flickering from his right arm, to the pack he carried on his back.

Brucie - the shark - was difficult to read on most occasions, given his inhuman features, but the way he kept not-so-subtly shaking his right arm, and glancing down at it, his preferred option was easily foreseen.

It seemed that Lily had the same thoughts as Brucie, since she gestured briefly to him, then said, “I think we’ll take you up on your offer regarding the workshop. The more weapons Brucie has, the more help me will be to me.”

Brucie’s attempt to stealthily pump his arm at the small victory, ended up about as subtle as one might imagine from a piece of moving metal on a shark.

If not for his mask, Carreau’s smile would have been as apparent as Brucie’s joy. “Certainly.” He raised and clapped his hands, From the nearest of the glyphs embellishing the atrium’s vast floor, an ethereal creature formed from a sudden surge of dark energy. Resembling a bizarre cross between a bird and ray, it floated in the air with a single, glowing red eye facing its summoner. In a clear voice, the owlman told it, “Lead the way to the Workshop at a leisurely pace.” He replaced his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure you’re not affected by the Umbra’s Stare at all, but they’re nothing more than sentries with knowledge of Deadbeat Sky. It’ll guide you right to the workshop. Say hello to Serval for me. Nobody should give you any trouble on the way; an alarm would have been raised for an intruder, after all. Verrine and I will proceed to dinner in the meantime.” Around him, the group had already dispersed, with only Screed remaining. With a final wave, Carreau proceeded across the atrium, Screed and Verrine in his wake.

---

The blustering was becoming tedious. Was touching a door to open it, or using his vocal chords to call upon his servants too much? One would think someone of Emile’s—or Carreau’s—power would bear a quiet confidence, rather than show it off like some prizewinning pony. Was he really that insecure in his own strength? Did it perhaps hint at a weakness he did not want her to discover? It would make sense if he was, in truth, her inferior, and made such a show of some grand power to cover up for it; to keep her believing that they were powerful enough to handle themselves.

...No. As much as she would like to believe so, the speed with which Emile had moved earlier was the genuine article. Even Tsuki could not move that fast, and her kind was the fastest of the Shifters. Carreau was as powerful as he made himself out to be, and she knew she would be unlikely to defeat him were he to get violent. At the very least he had sworn not to kill her, but she wasn’t so naive as to put absolute trust into an oath made by a stranger. It was all too easy to weasel his way out of such a promise, even were it binding on pain of death.

She suppressed a sigh and thanked Carreau, making certain to let none of her exasperation bleed into her voice. She then turned to the Umbra, as he had called it. Brucie as its gaze passed over them, but neither Lily nor Mouse reacted.

“Lead the way,” she said, and followed when it finally started towards wherever this workshop was. Brucie followed immediately, as did Lily. Only a handful of steps in, however, she faded into nothing, and the real Lily became visible once more, exactly one and a half step beside the copy: Mouse, still held in her arms, was looking around curiously, sniffing the air.

“Wha—Boss?” Brucie exclaimed, looking from Lily to where her copy had been moments before. “How? When… Why?”

”Precautions,” the Shark heard an echo of Lily’s voice say.

“Don’t trust them?” He asked, to which she shot him a glance.

”The Slime Girl, remember her? She was a contestant, but she mentioned dying, yet is here alive. These people, whoever they are, have power almost on par with some individuals from my world. I would be a fool to trust them blindly, when they so clearly outmatch me. To them I am nothing but a convenient tool, but one this ‘Carreau’ needs. Now stay silent, the less you say about this, the less likely they are to decide I am not to be trusted either, binding oath or not.” Throughout all of this, Lily betrayed no sign of anything going on save keeping an eye on the Umbra ahead of them; neither a flick of any tail or ear.

Brucie, wisely, said nothing further, instead choosing to silently follow this Umbra as it made its way to what was, presumably, Serval’s workshop.

Ianus Congreatio: Secret societies, horror, and mystery in the shadows of Prague.

Lucie cast a sidelong glance Adam's way, her lips pressed into a thin line. He had sustained quite the amount of injuries, and not all of them appeared to be physical. Despite all of the visible signs of physical pain, the hunched shoulders and hanging head, told her all she needed to about his mental well-being. It made her realise that she had gotten out of the entire ordeal easy. She and Aleksandra had had to only look into the matter of disappearances, whereas it turned out Adam and Lilliana had faced off against something horrible. Isabeau and her, frankly, terrifying power that bordered on mind control, as well as the abomination that they had somehow managed to kill for good.

To be more precise, I was the only one who had it easy. She bit her lower lip, chewing on it in thought. In a way it made her feel guilty, almost. She had done little but chase down someone who wasn't a threat to her, and prior to that she'd spent the night skulking about with Aleksandra. And even when she had exerted herself, chasing Isabeau, she had managed to make it into a game for herself; one of cat and mouse. Ianus Congregatio had done much for her, not the least of which was give her a home after her supposed death, and she paid back with efforts and aid that amounted to little more than proverbial change. She felt like she owed it to Adam, to the House, to do more.

She let one of the young hostlers take her horse, giving him a brief nod of thanks before she turned her attention to Ren. In the months she had been here, he was one of the few people who had legitimately impressed her. Not that the rest of the staff or members were disappointing, but few had exceeded her expectations as he had. Her initial impression had been that of a stuck-up butler, the kind who thought himself important simply by association with whatever noble they served. Ren, however, had proven himself to be a very compassionate individual, who genuinely cared about his master and their well-being, and was perfectly content with their lot in life. He took pride in his work and his job, not in himself. The difference might be small to some, but not many people had seen as many butlers or man servants as Lucie had, and especially not with outside eyes. It made her appreciate him all the more when he explained that they had gathered what items of value that were near the old mill, had been collected and brought back.

"Did you, by chance, find a revolver, too, Ren?" She asked while taking off her gloves. She stuffed them in her belt and started undoing her braid. "It was my Peacemaker. Colt, Single Action?"

He paused for a moment before a look of slight disappointment washed over him. "I am afraid not, Miss Lucie. Though some of the others who were with me, did manage to find an item matching your description. If you would, I could show you to the storage rooms, where we keeps such items?"

Lucie smiled, but shook her head. "No thank you, I will find it myself tomorrow." She walked up to him, placed a hand on the side of his face and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "But thank you," she added, "for arranging the baths."

She then headed for her rooms, pausing only briefly to look back, grinning at the flushed cheeks and wide eyes of Ren. And was that a pleased smile she was? Yes, yes it was. She chuckled to herself and hurried towards the promised baths, hardly able to wait to be relieved of the smell of sewage.

---

Lucie slowly twirled in front of the mirror, eyeing her own reflection with a critical eye. She wondered if the frills on her dress were too abundant, or perhaps if the design was too elaborate? Sometimes less was more, after all, and this piece certainly had strained the talent of her tailor, and taken up three months' worth of her share from that particular business. And that wasn't even mentioning the other things she had requested, which had been even more expensive since it had been a rush order. She just hoped Adam appreciated the suit she had procured for him. Hopefully it would have arrived this very morning.

"Anna, be a dear and fetch my necklace, the one with the emerald," Lucie said aloud, addressing the serving girl she had requested assigned to her. She had asked Adam if she could have this particular servant attend her in particular, partially because she was very near Lucie's own age — just two years her senior — and also because she had, as Lucie had discovered quickly, a very convenient psychic talent of her own. Some might have called it mind reading, or a variance of future sight, but it was more accurate to simply call it a very powerful intuition. It was because of said power, that she could barely finish the sentence before Anna pressed the necklace into her hand.

"Here you go, Miss Lucie," she said demurely, taking a step back and allowed herself a moment to look over Lucie and the dress she wore. "It's marvellous," she breathed.

Lucie let out a chuckle, fastening the chain around her neck and let the drop-shaped emerald rest against her breast. "It is, isn't it?" She asked, turning on the spot just fast enough for the skirt to flare and rise. She completed a few turns before she settled, eyeing herself once more in the mirror. It had taken weeks of trial and error to get this particular dress finished, and the result was better than she had imagined. It was a mix of a ballroom gown and dress, with some of the grandeur and stateliness of a gown, and the freedom, elegance and intricate designs of the dresses. It was made up of varying shades of blue for the different layers, though dominated most places by sky-blue. The teardrop shaped emerald that rested against her breast proved to be just the addition necessary to complete the look.

She grinned at her own reflection and turned to address Anna, only to see her already offering satin gloves she had been about to request. Royal blue and elbow length, of course. The sly smile she received was all the confirmation she needed, that her surprise showed on her face. So many months later, and she still managed to get the better of Lucie.

"Someone should give you a raise," Lucie said and pulled on the gloves, not even needing say anything before Anna also placed a pair of heeled shoes near her.

"I would certainly appreciate if they did, Miss," Anna replied, "but I do not think it necessary. I already earn enough to support myself as it is."

"Nevertheless," Lucie continued while putting on the shoes, "I do believe your talents aren't quite appreciated enough." She straightened up and looked down at her reflection again. "Do you think this adequate?"

Despite herself, Anna couldn't help but giggle. "Miss, you're dressed to the nines, and it is yet only morning. Any more, cosmetics or otherwise, and you will appear as if on your way to a royal ball."

Lucie hummed, stepping a little closer. "I do believe you're right. The bare necessities, don't you agree?"

Anna was just about to answer when she paused, turned, and went for the door. A single knock hit the door before she had opened it, revealing another of the servants, this one a shorter man. "Yes?" Anna asked.

"I-Ah... Oh." His eyes were, for a few moments, locked on Lucie who walked over to them, nearly towering over him. He managed to tear his eyes away just long enough to compose himself, when he looked back up at her there was nearly none of the awe that had been there before. "Miss Ruzicka, Master Adam invites you to breakfast with him in an hour."

Adeleia very rarely invited for breakfast or dinner, usually letting the occupants of the House dine whenever they desired, so when an invitation came there usually was a reason, she thought. Lucie nodded and give him a kind smile. "Thank you, I think I will." The servant bowed and left, closing the door after himself leaving Lucie and Anna alone again.

"Well, that certainly is a rare occurance. Maybe something a little more extravagant is warranted?" Lucie and Anna's eyes met, a spark of understanding passing between them. "How about a side-braid?" They asked simultaneously.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Lily didn't let any expression show on her face as her request for a different oath was turned down. Nor did she betray any thoughts as to Emile's wish. Truth be told, she had expected his wish to be something less selfish. The return of his two deceased friends, perhaps? That was a Wish she could have gotten behind, and would have supported herself. This, however, was something else entirely. It didn't just sound villainous, it was villainous. That he felt the need to stress that he was 'Good for it,' certainly did not give her any more confidence that he was not a treasonous, back-stabbing piece of filth. Quite the contrary.

So yes, he was completely right that Lily did not trust him. That he had not been antagonistic from the start told her only that he was not her immediate enemy, but that was far from the same as giving her a reason to trust him. It was a credit to himself that he had, at least, admitted that he had every intention to betray her the second things were no longer convenient for him. The words may not have been spoken, but she was not a Trickster for nothing. He would only ever risk losing some of his power if he broke the oath, and even then only if it worked on him. And that was a very big If.

But that still left the question of what she would do without him and his crew. Which carried the greater risk: Having people like Emile on her side, who might betray her the second allying with her was no longer convenient for them, and thus risking a betrayal at the most inopportune moments. Or turn them down for fear of said betrayal, and risk them allying with one of the other contestants? She allowed herself to blink, using the moment of darkness to decide.

She had to take them on their word. Emile was incredibly quick, even by her standards, which would make him very difficult, if not impossible, to defeat if he turned on her. However, she knew two things that still tipped things in her favour. One among them was how the Tournament was designed, and how a Wish was attained, and the other was that Emile, however fast he may be, still moved at a snail's pace when confronted with lightning. At worst she employ her illusions and break his mind.

A betrayal she could predict and work to prevent, or make sure to turn the tables on them instead. But if they allied with her enemies, then she was simply up against foes she did not expect to be able to win without extreme caution and effort.

"Very well," she said slowly. "So you won't swear your aid to me, then. Consider this a request, then: Will you swear to not attempt to kill me? I should let you know that you have nothing to lose with this particular promise," she added, and began to slowly take out the phylactery from under her shirt without looking away from him, holding it up for Emile to see. "I expect you're able to see the differences between my Phylactery and the ones you carry from your deceased friends. Yours are dun, so if you kill me, the Souls I carry will be lost, and the Wish can never be granted."

She put the phylactery back where it pressed against her heart, and held her hand over it for a moment. She allowed a wistful expression to fall over her. "I came here to bring someone dear to me back. Even if I fail, I don't want to leave my fiancée wondering why I never came home again." She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back a tear she had not expected to appear. The very thought of not returning brought physical pain. She breathed in deeply and let it out slowly, looking back up at Emile with as steadfast a stare as she could muster, balling her hand into a fist against her chest. "I accept your proposal and your aid in the coming battles. And I swear on my power, that I will ask for my wish and yours, to be granted upon my victory in the tournament, aided by you and your companions."

She let her hand fall to her side, and waited.

The Three Realms War [A DMC, Bayonetta and Darksiders RP]

Shit.

Everything had gone to hell. Not only had Sevrin arrived, but he had stolen the orbs as well. That one angel still believed himself to be superior to everyone, and just about everyone here was useless.

And somehow, things were bound to get even worse. Lily's attacks had almost all been negated, cut apart by that damnable sword. Without more time she couldn't mount an attack, that would get past Sevrin's defence. She grit her teeth and took to the air, intent on buying as much time as she could. She had the advantage of flight, and however high Sevrin could jump, he was no match for someone to whom gravity was optional. Fire and plasma coalesced in her hands. Twin orbs of fiery destruction growing stronger all too slowly for Lily's liking, yet it was all that she could do at the moment. Sevrin might have been immobilized by Kushiel and Akoni, but she did not trust the imbecile to deliver the finishing blow. He would screw it up, she knew it. And Akoni... He was powerful for a human, but she did not think him quite capable enough to finish off the likes of Sevrin, even if it was only an avatar of the true horror still trapped, behind the veil separating Hell and Earth.

Precious few seconds passed, and Lily started to feel confident that she had enough to blast Sevrin into oblivion. She reared back, as if to throw the orbs, but paused. Space opened in front of Sevrin, and a being that gave even Lily pause stepped up. She - it - blocked the Longinus. That, more than anything, was what made Lily banish her flames. The look Sevrin gave this new Void-individual was one Lily found herself in agreement with. Disgust and anger, and begrudging respect for being obviously powerful.

Could she dare risk attacking this new individual? They had blocked the Longinus of all weapons, grasping it by the blade. She grit her teeth, and tentatively tried to form an attack, only for Void to disappear, then re-appear a distance below her. She reacted immediately, shooting into the air just as a blast of darkness surged out from around Void. The very fringes of the explosion managed to reach Lily, covering her lower legs and leaving them human and bare, only patches of the fiery plasma that was her Sol body covering them.

Never before had she felt something like that. Felt something try to strip her power from her. More than anything, the gal of that ignited the anger within her. She was a Shapeshifter. She had created the art of changing forms at will; to separate what she was into multiple parts, using and enhancing each at any time she desired. She was a Master of her own body, and no one had the right to control what body she decided to inhabit. So she fought through it, not asking, but forcing er body to change back. The fire that made up her elemental body spread and struggled, covering her lower legs in pulsing patches.

It was only moments later that she reformed her body in its entirety, glaring balefully down at the newcomer. Had she been able to, she would have turned her to ash from the inside out, but knowing that she had a power like this... If she could use it at her leisure, the chances of Lily defeating her were slim.

So she turned her attention to Sevrin instead, who had now opened the vault's door and was already hurrying down the corridor. And within moments, a white-clad figure following him, screaming about how a sword was his. "Sparda's son?" Lily whispered to herself incredulously. The whelp's impossibly bad timing made her want to burn him, but she was forced to recognise that he was an ally of inconvenience at this point. At the very least he wanted the Yamato back, which made him an enemy of Sevrin.

She didn't even care to acknowledge the woman that appeared, content to leave her be since she appeared an opponent of Void. "Fenn!" She shouted, already speeding towards the open vault. "Heal, then follow me!"

Around her, fire seemed to coalesce in empty air, falling behind for a second only to trail behind her. Each second that passed saw more and more of these fiery orbs coming into existence, each one adding to the hoard of flaming spheres that followed in Lily's wake. Singular blasts of fire, or a Supernova, had done very little to Sevrin. He had been able to cut them apart with the sword. She wouldn't be able to defeat him by sending just one attack at him at a time, regardless of how powerful it was. But hundreds of smaller attacks, falling upon him like a tidal wave.

She didn't care how powerful the Yamato was. He could not defend against such a barrage.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Lily did note the way Emile both reacted and spoke when she mentioned Isekai. On its own she might not have found it especially odd, maybe just a sign of surprise by someone who hadn't quite thought of it yet. But he had previously mentioned his current body — that of the humanoid owl — not being his own, but being from the video game Yggdrasil. She was familiar with the name, as it was what some believed the Weave to be, much like in old Norse Mythology, but any game with said name was unknown to her. Knowing that his body was not his own, and that he looked like he had been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, made Lily suspect something.

She briefly glanced down at Mouse, placed a hand on his head, and turned her attention back to Emile, only to see a blur of movement and a rush of wind. She jerked her head upwards, following the movement, seeing the owl-man standing atop the broken pillar, arms crossed and lording over her.

"What the hell?!" Brucie exclaimed beside her, looking around briefly before finally finding Emile.

Mouse let out a whimper and pressed himself closer to Lily.

Lily felt her eyes widen as a feeling of awe went over her, one she hadn't felt since she had first witnessed the feats of the mythical creatures up close. This man, whoever and whatever he was, was in a league beyond her. If he could move so fast as to be blurry to her, then she had no chance whatsoever at beating him. She fought to bring her expression back under control, putting back the usual mask of unflappability.

However proud she was. However certain she was that she could defeat anyone on her own. This time, she had to admit that there were someone in this alien world, that was her superior. His words from moments earlier came back to her; "...And when the load gets heavy, it's a good idea to have a lot of friends.” She was forced to agree. And the words that followed, that he would swear to her the aid of the entire guild, giant raven included, so long as she amended her wish to include theirs as well, whatever it was.

She rose slowly, ignoring Brucie's impressed mutterings beside her. She never let her eyes leave Emile, however much good it would do her if he decided to attack. "I appreciate your offer, but before I accept or decline, you asked a question." She pulled out the phylactery from beneath her shirt, showing the heart-like creation, the gears behind the single window slowly turning. This one was also still vividly red, as opposed to Emile's greyed and dun one. "This is an active phylactery. As you said earlier, containing eight souls. What you have are inert ones, no longer functional for its purposes. Notice the gears no longer turning? Long and short of it, the ones you carry aren't more than a piece of rubber." She stuffed it back underneath her shirt, eyes never leaving the stranger.

"As for your aid, I would like you to Swear it," she said, "Swear it on your Power, and I will swear to word my wish so that what you want also comes to pass." She silently hoped that his kind were completely beholden to such a vow, much like the Sídhe of her own world. Luckily, she, as a Kitsune, was not beholden to such a promise, and would not risk the lessening or complete loss of her magic, should she break it. Of course, that doesn't mean I won't honour it. But... Just in case their wish contradicts mine. "Are those acceptable terms? I'll need to know what your Wish is, though."

"I think it's acceptable," Brucue said, stepping up beside Lily, now no longer needed to guard Emile's flank. "You seen that bird? It's enormous. And he's quicker than I've ever seen you move—" the glare she gave him could have curdled milk "—so if the rest of his crew is anything close to that... Yeah, I reckon they'll be a good help. By the way, you gonna take those swords?" He asked, pointing.

Following Brucie's finger, and for the first time saw the two sabres leaning against the pillar. "Probably," she said, then looked back up at Emile. "But first, your answer, please? Your ring may be fancy, but I would prefer if you also use my world's Oath." She paused, brows furrowing.

A brief moment passed of silence, with Emile ruminating on her demand. "My Power?" he repeated after a moment. "...I take it there's some significance to this oath where you're from?"

Lily nodded. "There is. In my world, if someone swears to their power, they are bound to the promise, and risk the weakening of their powers if they break that promise. At worst they might lose them after repeated offenses." She pursed her lips. "I doubt it will even work for you, being from a different world, but at least humor me. If nothing else it will show me that you mean to uphold your end of the bargain."

Ianus Congreatio: Secret societies, horror, and mystery in the shadows of Prague.

Adam glanced at Lucie briefly and almost chuckled. Almost. He was still a walking pile of pain and had so much more to do. He couldn't afford to relax yet.

He did smile briefly as he answered. About as lighthearted as he could be under the circumstances.

“Not exactly. No. Though maybe it should be. I can certainly see the appeal of a pretty woman dressed in just a short coat. All legs and leaving one wanting to unwrap her. Maybe I'll see if I can figure out how to start a fashion trend. You know...in all that free time I have.” The sarcasm dropping off his last comment could drown a horse.

“Really I just didn't want to have to fight again whilst naked. It's like peeing in the woods...you do it when necessary but it's still a vaguely uncomfortable feeling.”

Lucie blinked, then chuckled, clasping her hands behind her back as she walked. “That sounds almost as an admission. But that’s not important right now. What do you think will be at manor?”

“I don't know what we will find when we get to Isabeau’s house. I hope you are prepared for...well...anything.”

Lucie nodded slowly, any mirth vanishing at Adam’s words. She placed one hand on the hilt of her sword. “I’ve seen my fair share of things, even young as I am, so I am well prepared. But,” she said, now looking pointed at Adam. “I’m not a dagger to be pointed at a target. I will defend us if anything happens, but if you have any intentions of silencing whatever staff is in her manor. That blood will be on your hands. I just want to remind you of that.”

Adam fought back a snarl. His pain made him short tempered and Lucie’s defensiveness and her assumptions about him didn't help. He clenched his teeth and kept walking in silence for rather longer than he needed.

“I asked you to accompany me. I did not mean that you were required to. If you are uncomfortable with what might or might not be there you need not accompany me. I could use the help but my job is to defend the Society as needed; I neither expect nor ask anyone else to do my job. I protect what I care about.”

“My concern was of a more psychical nature. Isabeau was a brilliant scientist that apparently learned to animate dead flesh. I don't know what other alchemical secrets she may have learned or how she chose to protect them.”

The tone with which Adam spoke was not lost to her, and she did not pretend to not have heard it. Nevertheless, it was far from the worst she had ever experienced. It was nothing compared to the flat side of a sword for backtalk. “I came because you looked like you needed the help. But the situation just so happens to be, that I don’t know exactly what you intend, even if I can make educated guesses.” She let both her hands drop to simply hang along her sides, staring straight ahead as she spoke. “My impression of you is that you are not cold hearted, nor cruel. But you are deeply analytical and pragmatic... I once met a man like you who ordered the death of his late brother’s son, because he legitimately, honestly, believed that he could do better than the kid, and help more people in the long run with their business.” She fell into a thoughtful silence then, lips pressed thin. “‘His last words were, ‘it was for the greater good’.”

Adam shrugged and wished absently that he dared take milk of poppy. But that was far too risky. Instead he focused his mind on every possible option they might encounter as the brought this nights work to a close. He was getting tired already and this conversation was not helping.

“It's true I find logic is eminently more useful than passion and it's true people consider me to be a cold heartless cad, or worse, because of it. I’m used to it, it does get somewhat wearing though. And I am so very tired.”

“There are, I believe, precisely two people left alive in this world who know me well enough to what to expect from me. I don't even know most days; I solve problems. The “how” often has a few twists that I don't see until I connect the pattern. So believe what you wish about me; but perhaps you would consider reserving final judgement until the facts have been acquired, that is all I would ask.”

Contrary to the accusations thrown her way, Lucie actually smiled. “For one who advises having all the facts before making a judgement, you sure do have a tendency to make baseless assumptions. Even going so far as to contradict the evidence, to support your own narrative.” She chuckled, and randomly stuck her hand out to break off two branches, fiddling with them as she continued.

“I believe that I said that I do not consider your cold hearted or cruel. I have not seen you act that way.” She broke both branches, stuck one half of each in her belt, and then pressed the broken-off ends of the other two together. “Yet you claim that I made those accusations, and for that reason—” she took out the other two branch-halves, pressing their ends together, as if trying to make them fit “—you accuse me of doing what you have just done.” She then threw the branches over towards Adam, though being careful not to hit him. “Why is that hypocrisy, I wonder?” She mused with a hint of a smile.

Adam was silent for a long time running over thoughts in his mind. He hated to admit it but Lucie had a point. He hated assumptions. Absolutely hated them. But he had allowed himself to fall into that trap. He wished he could blame his pain and exhaustion but he knew the truth. He was just being waspish for no reason.

“You are correct” he said finally into the quiet “I apologize.”

For awhile it seemed that was all he was going to say but he continued several minutes later.

“I am extraordinarily tired. It is not an excuse. Merely a reason. I dislike assumptions and still allowed myself to be seduced by them. Again I apologize.”

Lucie offered him a charming smile, the young girl that she was breaking through the tough exterior. “Apology accepted.” She said nothing further for a while after that, content to walk in silence. She kept looking about however, seemingly staying aware of their surroundings and any potential threats.

It was several minutes later before she spoke up again, pointing with a gloved hand over the treetops, to where the tiled roof of a mansion had just come into clarity. “I assume that is our destination?” She asked. “Miss. Isabeau’s residence and house of horrors.”

“It's actually rather nice, if a bit outdated” said Adam absently.

Adam led them to the servants entrance and they walked in without knocking.

No one was about, not surprising since the better part of the night was gone. It made Adam breathe a little easier. If they were quiet they may not run into anyone. He hadn't brought any money with him for bribes so being unnoticed would be easier.

He adjusted his steps so he could move quietly and gestured for Lucie to do the same, though he found that she was already mirroring him. He called the layout of the house, from what he remembered, into his mind. They could automatically rule out any public areas and the servant quarters...she wouldn't keep anything important there.

“Let's try the bedrooms first. She has locked up one of the rooms; the bedchamber she and her husband used to share. I remember that from when I visited her right after the explosion. The servants were all atwitter about it. Locked up and boarded up the room. Doesn't mean there isn't a way in...if she had secrets that would be a good place for them.”

Lucie nodded and opened the door to the bedroom. It was an ordinary affair, as mansions went, and as such did very little to astonish her. She had, after all, lived nearly as ostentatiously when she were younger. She took off one hand and let her naked palm run along the rough wood, slowly following it around. She stepped aside the large cupboard, stopping only briefly to open the drawers to look inside. She found only underwear. Expensive, well made underwear, but nothing of interesting… Although maybe she should commission something with laces like those.

She clicked her tongue and closed the drawer again, continuing on her way. She pressed her hand against the wall once more, this time deciding that ordinary methods were too slow. She wanted to get back to the House, get a bath, and see what gossip she could get out of the servants. So she sent a pulse through the wall, and from it into the adjacent walls, requesting information of only a single thing: Doors.

Two things stood out to her. One she didn’t need to turn around to see, because she knew that was the door they had entered from. The other was different. It was in the opposite end of the room, near the single bookshelf. In fact, right beside it. “Over here,” she said and stepped over to it. Keen eyes roved across the wood that comprised the wall, squinting to discern whatever tiny difference there may be, to give it away. She found no keyhole or handle, which left her with only one option.

Adam watched her work while at the same time scanning the room with his own Talent. This room was far too perfect. Even skilled servants couldn't keep a used room this perfect. By the time Lucie had found the door Adam had knew Isabeau didn't live here and there would be a door to another room, but having Lucie along was faster and gave him other eyes. He was busy stealing a pair of Isabeau’s boots to replace the rags on his bare feet when Lucie spoke up.

“How cliché,” she muttered, and started randomly pulling out books from the shelves. She was careful not to simply throw them, but either handed them to Adam or let them drop cover- or back first. “I expected more of Isabeau. She appeared an intelligent individual, however depraved and insane, but I truly, honestly, believed her more inventive than to hide proverbial door knob, as a book on her shelf. Ah, here.” She pulled further on a small tome, the name Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu written in golden filigree, across the black leather spine. Something clicked, and the wall beside the shelf opened into a not-so-secret room.

The inside was… disturbing, in a way. It held a single, worn bed, the covers haphazardly made by the hand of someone obviously unused to doing so herself. A single window would light up the room during the day, and aside from half a dozen candles—some in candleholders, some not—there seemed to be no other possible sources of light. She grabbed a small whetstone from one of her many pockets, went to a candleholder with two, nearly intact, candlesticks. With a deft motion, she drew a dagger from her belt, struck the whetstone across the edge, and lighting the wicks with a few attempts. Now with light in hand, she could see the thing that worried her the most.

Something that looked more like a shrine to the occult than anything else. More half-melted wax candles along the edges of a chest-height dresser, accompanied by dozens upon dozens of pictures of Lady Isabeau and an unknown man—presumably her husband, the late Mr. Isabeau—plastered to the wall, many overlapping and a few burnt at the corners from the multitude of candles. Atop it the dresser lay bundles of paper and notes, an empty ink well and a dried pen.

“Is this what you were looking for?” Lucie asked, holding aloft the candle holder, shedding light on the shrine itself. She didn’t hide the disgust at what she saw.

Adam entered the room after Lucie, already guessing what they would find. The scope of Isabeau’s obsession caught him unawares though. Clearly she had been living in a hellish world, trapped in time. He could almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

“Not exactly what I was looking for” said Adam absently. “But important nonetheless.”

A glance outside told Adam they dared not linger long. The sun, and the servants, would be up soon. He wanted to be away by then.

“I wonder what kind of a force the two would have become had he lived” Adam muttered absently. He was trying not to focus too much on the obvious signs of Isabeau’s madness. He would think on it later, in private, because madness was of special interest to him.

He quickly glanced through the notes and writings on the table, his Talent enabling him to quickly separate the important from the fluff. The pile of fluff was quite small. He bundled the important papers in a pillowslip he quickly stripped from the bed and turned to Lucie.

“Her lab” he said, “quickly. We haven't much time left to remain unnoticed.” He didn't mention his suspicion that at least one of the servants already knew they were there; servants were rarely as clueless as their employers wished. They were, however, remaining hidden which suited Adam well.

Lucie nodded and knelt down, pressing her bare hand to the floor. Beakers, Chemicals, Bunsen Burner, she demanded, her own Talent giving her the impression of several such items in proximity of each other. There was just one problem. “Far side of the mansion, top floor,” she said, rising. “It’s tucked in a corner of the building.” She then grabbed the cloth covering the blades of her daggers, handing it to Adam. “Tie this around your face, in case servants do find us. Cover one eye with your hair if possible. They won’t know who I am, but they’ll know you.”

She didn’t wait to see if Adam did as ordered, instead stepping quietly over to the door leading to the hallway. She crouched low and peeked out, but she saw nothing. Neither could she hear anything.

Adam nodded and did as Lucie suggested. On their way out of the room he grabbed one of Isabeau’s summer cloaks as well, it had a hood he used to cover his pale hair and muffle his form. He followed Lucie down the hall, as quiet as she was.

The lab was everything a well stocked lab should be; and very neat and clean. Adam and Lucie were able to make short work of their search. Much of what he found disturbed Adam, more so because he had almost been part of her experiment.

Adam destroyed what they couldn't carry; it was convenient that Isabeau stocked a variety of acids. The rest they bundled up to take back to the House. His keen ears caught the sounds of servants moving hastily about the house as he worked; but the sounds were far enough away that he guessed they were safe for now. It seemed the servants didn't care much about more beyond their own welfare. A pragmatic approach he approved of. Getting out of the house unnoticed was now his only real concern.

“I'm guessing most of the servants are gone now?” He asked Lucie softly.

“Last one left a few minutes ago,” she confirmed, hefting her own small bag of notes and equipment. “We’re all alone now. I take it we go back to the House? The others should have arrived by now.” She walked out the door, then, heading for the back entrance they had used to get in. “I do hope Aleksandra remembered to retrieve my pistol.”

“Good” said Adam “their flight will be obvious; with any luck if Isabeau’s disappearance is investigated at all everyone will be consumed with finding the servants. I’m going to lock up. Make it look less tempting. I'll meet you in the stables; I think we should help ourselves to one of Isabeau’s horses, hope you won't mind sharing.”

It didn't take Adam long to lock up and join Lucie at the stables, she had saddled one of the horses and was holding it by the reins when he arrived. “Let's go home,” Adam said, relief evident in his voice. He was more than done with this adventure.

“Let us,” she said, swinging herself up in the saddle, and reached a hand down to help Adam up so he could sit in front of her. “I think I want a bath when we get back. The sewers have left a less than pleasant smell.”