Redward

Shadow Smiles

Put up a (in my opinion) short Eddie intro. Hope it's adequate!

Shadow Smiles

The sunset was gorgeous. Hues of red and orange mingling over a wretched bundle of shimmering obstruction. After all that had happened, Eddie Garcia sat at the edge of the world. The wind pulled at his hair, in errant gusts; his feet, as well, pushed to the left when they came. He let his gaze trail down, between his dangling shoes.

I just gotta lean forward.

Considering it sent shivers up his spine and made an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. He couldn't relax. Despite everything that happened, he was still focused on an entirely different matter. Sure, an eyeball had attacked him in his apartment. Sure, he had spent two hours puking up black bile. Sure, the words of a strange smiling patron still rang in his ears; just under his own repetitious thoughts.

Here, Edward. Take it, or it will take you.

A smile. Huge. Everywhere. Cheshire? Maybe. His apartment, spinning. Tentacles. The scene overtook him.

It didn't take long for Eddie to forget he was sitting on the ledge of an adjacent complex. Now, he was back there; out of control, reliving the moment. Back in his apartment. Some number of hours ago. The scent of New Steel City became incense. The breeze on his skin became the sputtering breath of his half-broken air conditioner. Everything began to shift, losing its solidity; the phantoms of Eddie Garcia's mind overtaking him.

Oh Dios mio...not again...

He had been sitting in a stupor for some time. Albina had left him. Finally seeing him for the piece of shit he was. The bathroom was cold. Blood trailed from a small number of marks on his right arm. The needle sat on the sink's rim, glistening in the low yellow light. Dirty clothes littered the floor, mingled with two towels; one of which he had a light grip on. The pink one. Albina's.

Eddie Garcia had been crying, that much was evident by his reflection in the dirty mirror. His eyes swollen and red, his hands shaking. Her towel was coarse and still wet. Not forty five minutes ago she had been all smiles. Then she had found just how much of their collective stash had gone missing.

Quick way to turn a loving junkie into a junkie bitch.

What she had said was enough to cut him to the bone; driving him to finish off what he'd started. Now, Eddie's veins were full of narcotics; his head full of thoughts that wouldn't cessate. You're a fuckin' piece of shit, Eddie! I'm gone! She kept saying that, even though she had only said it twice. He kept hearing it. It echoed off the walls, and drove a new nail into his heart, each time.

He couldn't argue, though; he didn't have the will for it. So, he did what he always did. He ran, seeking numbness over closure. Sliding bare feet across dirty tiles, he sighed; sitting back. The rim of the bathtub wasn't comfortable, but he needed the toilet available. Nausea pulled his stomach up and down, threatening to empty its self. An empty threat, given that he hadn't eaten since just before the last time he slept.

Four days, man. Eddie had thought, Maybe a few more if this shit keeps up.

Standing wasn't a chore, but it was a hassle. Eddie did it, anyway, walking over to the mirror; knocking his rig aside without much thought. Plastic, as it was, the thing didn't break. He nudged it aside with his toes, staring into himself. He looked like hell, he knew. That hardly mattered. Blood trailed down his forearm. Four missed attempts with shaking hands had left his fresh marks obvious. He placed a hand against the grime, letting it press until cracks showed in the glass.

"Ugly mug, isn't it?" The voice was a rasp at his back, so close that the vibrations tickled at his ear. Eddie spun, his fists raised for all of half a second before they dropped. He thought it was a hallucination, at first; but the thing in front of him was more like a nightmare. It stooped to keep its head from hitting the roof, looking down on him with yellow eyes. His mouth worked, but produced no sound. A hand, large but thin reached out for him. "I brought you something, kid. Something you'll like." He was absorbed by its smile; the way it stretched.

"What...what the fuck are you?" He managed to choke out, trying to step back; earning the rim of the sink against his lower back. The thing chuckled; bringing up a closed hand. Tendrils wormed their way from between closed fingers, flailing violently at the air. Eddie wanted to run, but found himself rooted to the spot.

"I'm Smile, Eddie. You can call me Smile," its eyes didn't leave him, the smell of Smile's breath carrying repulsive sweetness and subdued rot, "and this," its fingers unfurled, revealing the source of the tendrils, "is yours."

What the fuck?! Oh hell no! I'm out! He slid away from the sink, the creature and the thing in its hand, and toward the door. The moment he did, something pierced the back of his head. Eddie crumpled, his hand barely grazing the door's tarnished knob. Then he heard flesh ripping, and could barely feel the tendrils worming their way beneath his skin.

"Keep an eye on it for me, kid."

And that was where he forced himself to stop remembering. After that he had passed out, waking up on his bathroom floor. Blood covered everything around him. He had used Albina's towel to wipe up most of it; changing clothes and heading out the door without a second thought.

That brought him here. The New Steel City low-rent apartment rooftops; contemplating suicide.

Shadow Smiles

I'm getting started on Eddies Introduction, right now. Should be up in a short while!

Shadow Smiles

@hagroden Yeah, everyone's free to go ahead.

@SilverPaw You can.

Free Saga: What Once Was

Idani Umbele had long left the patch of path behind her, the strange book tucked safely away and mostly forgotten about. She had strode through dusk, impudent and certain; there were few who could surprise her well enough to win a battle that began with an ambush. As most louts and thieves seem to think it's an advantage, you had better learn to look for it, she told herself the words, though they were not originally spoken in her voice, They're a coward's lot, to be sure. Act quickly, and don't stop for small-talk. Small-talk's their bread-and-butter. Gives 'em time to think. She was mimicing her 'mentor's' motions, as she walked, but thankfully few were in view to notice. The rules still followed her, down the many roads. Worse, his voice still lingered with her.

She shook her head, noticing The Traveler's Respite in the distance. All warm glows and small carvan rows. It will do, for a short rest. Idani didn't intend to spend her coin in a place like that, unless it was for Risat; a Drasilian game that had long since spread to much of the world. Idani favored games where there was more than chance involved. It was a tall building, and the last true stop before one reached Oakheim. I'll rest up, a little, and be on my way before sunrise.

Her footfalls brought her ever-closer, smells of seared meat and the surprising scent of heavy liquor. Soft singing, from those who stayed close to their caravans. Probably the assistants of whoever got a cushy bed for the night. Or those without coin for a proper stay. For a moment, she considered making her way to them. To join in the dancing and singing. Part of her loved the idea, to cut completely loose after the strange dream she had suffered. The more practical side said to slide into the inn and figure out something more lucrative, or to at least spend her few hours of rest in a chair; rather than the ground.

"What?" Idani said, stopping short; bathed in the building's side shadow. Despite the relative warmth, she shivered. It had to be my imagination. Shrugging it off, she made her way around to the front. The door was solid, but bore signs of age. Though it was heavy, for her, she managed to make opening it look nonchalant and slid inside.

Smoke lingered, as it almost always did in these places, overhead; creating a thin layer of acrid clouds above those huddled at the tables. Given her late arrival, the drinking crowd had thinned down; a little. There were a few raucous gamblers that she marked for later interaction, a pretty serving girl and a few homely ones. A bartender with a broken fence for teeth, and a man who crouched at her side; his bulk still showing over the considerably low counter.

Eyes fell on her, as her eyes fell on others. She felt it, and another shiver, but didn't bother seeking their source. Instead, she approached the bar and spoke. Idani tried to subdue her Drasilian inflection, keeping her words as close to the Volanci 'lower dialect' as she possibly could.

"Uh, hello. I'd like a tankard of..." Idani considered, many places didn't carry her favored drink, but it rarely stopped her from asking. Here, however, it seemed prudent to exercise caution. No Coldfire tonight. "A tankard of King's Blood, if you would." King's Blood was Volanci, through and through; a brew originated in Izia's Kiss, a small village she knew little of...but had heard the name lauded in many brew-halls.

The woman gave her a look she couldn't fully identify, and the crouching hulk muttered something quick in Volanci. Idani raised an eyebrow, taking her eyes from the rise of his rippling back and directed them toward the woman with the rotting mouth. "Just one. That should be more than enough. I don't intend to stay here."

“King’s Blood, eh lass?” An eyebrow raised, “Not many pass here ask fer ale haf enuff clout between their ears to know brews haf names, but we’re refined lass, ladies, ain’t we?” She winked and gave a holey smile, “Aye, I kin getcha yer drink.”

She flicked the rag onto her shoulder and went about pulling a tankard full. Wood slammed again wood, and it sloshed as the lady slid it across the bar to Idani. She wiped it up with her yellowed rag.
“Mind, bes’ not be trav’llin’ by yerself, 'specialy at this hour, any man would be daft to, and a pretty fing like you…” She spat onto the wood and began polishing, “ach, it don’t do to fink about.”

Another quick utterance from the hidden big man. Idani ignored it, taking up her tankard and tilting it back; a firm gulp following the motion. She watched them over the rim, before lowering. She knew well what the woman was talking about, but had avoided the fate a few times; mostly thanks to luck and an astounding capacity to weave believable lies. "That we are," she said with a half-sigh, smiling, "having a refined palette is part of being a refined lady." A wink, offered with a continuing smile, her elbows propped on the counter. "Thank you, very much, for the drink and the words of caution. I've been on the road for a good bit."

Time to get to work.

Despite her earlier statement, Idani fully intended to find a way to stay beneath a roof tonight. The nap she barely remembered taking had left her somewhat drained, despite how long it had seemed to last. Without thought, her fingers trailed to the satchel at her side. "I know a fair deal about herbs, as well. If it would help earn me a nice bed for a few hours, I would be willing to part with a fair bundle of Grinning Grass." That part was whispered, barely noticeable to those outside of their immediacy. A silver coin clicked against the counter, before Idani slid it carefully to the woman's side of the counter. It was more than enough for the drink, but not enough for the bed; and, unfortunately, it was all she was willing to part with...aside from her array of worldly goods.

The woman sniffed, her face crinkling like old parchment.

“Smell that lass?” Her eyes drifted upwards, scanning the ceiling.
The hand drawing the rag in circles continued, cleaning the top in front of Idani, despite the spill being long gone. One might have noticed the coin too was gone, likely now nestled safely in an apron pocket between a length of twine and some needle and gut. Perhaps the glint was never silver at all, just the woman’s ring? One could not be certain…

“Smells like a deal. Better not be horse shite. Life can be a wee bit hard on you and yer like, but,” Her eyes came down from the ceiling, piercing emeralds among the haze of smoke, “a woman’s word is always sacred.”

She busied herself, flicking her hands to her maids, sometimes even needing only a singular look. The bustled round with trays and bowls of soup and bread.

“Lass,” another flagon was set down in front of Idani, “This is t’ good stuff, don’t want that wallowing piss. I’ll take yerself t’room when yer ready. Mind, yer’ll hafta share with me, ‘course,” She huffed, “but et’s the only place to be safe.

Sacred? Nobody has a word that is sacred, dear lady. However, I can't deny that there is a certain understanding between our gender. Idani veiled her thoughts with a broadened smile. With fluidity, she moved her hand to the satchel's mouth; reaching in without ceremony. The Grinning Grass was still its perfectly sickly shade of high yellow and similarly acidic green. She had acquired it through trade, of course, with an Empty-Handed Gypsy who had recognized her on the road some odd miles across the Drasilian border. She takes me to be of a similar ilk, it seems. I suppose that's not terribly far from the truth.

"Then it's a deal done," the Grass was offered with an open palm, Idani leaning forward to cover it from prying eyes, "you have my word on its quality. Though I think your eyes can discern that for themselves." In a moment, it was gone, Idani back to her seat proper; a flagon before her. She took a sip, this time, testing it; her smile bordering on mischievous. "I don't mind sharing a room, and you have my thanks for your consideration and hospitality. Is this Kneeling Man or Crowfeather?" She had become somewhat trained in the taste of all forms of alcohol, given her mentor's disposition. "They share a similar body and aftertaste, but I believe I 'm quite uncertain as to this particular brew."

She tended to the second drink with more care. Listening to the patrons, picking out particular conversations among the quiet mumbling and more raucous rumbling. She watched the woman, though, somewhat impressed. Her hands were fast and she struck Idani as the sort to take business seriously. She probably owns the place. A flicker of her gaze at the large man, who had stood and begun walking away while Idani did what she did best. "You run a fine establishment," it wasn't a lie, for once, Idani rather liked The Traveler's Respite, "I'm assuming some travel here from Oakheim?" She had spied calloused hands and dirty clothes, mingled with the usual traveling sort.

In truth, she was fishing for information; in her casual way. Idani yawned, despite herself, and again propped herself on the counter. The second flagon in one hand, while the other danced lazily across the counter's slick surface. She imagined herself playing some grand instrument, though she had only learned a little of the lute and flute. Whatever it was, it occupied the nervous energy running through her; and kept her fingers nimble.

The woman looked for no more than a handful of seconds, and then hid her gaze by wiping beads of sweat from her upper lip. She nodded.

“Ach, fink nothing of it, lass,” she flopped her hand at the air, “I used tah travel in mah yoof. I know how it can be.”

“A mighty refined tongue you have there,” She leaned back, tilting her head, “What yer be tasting is a special brew I traded fer a while back, my own reserve. A man from a place called Highford, far west o’ here, came by ta get him a metal man fer his business. Sold me a story, about how the mugwort used grows in a ruined abbey, local like, that burned down. All sorts of wild stories about that, but that’s nary a fing to concern yerself, just hocus pocus and bored seamstresses wiff lives too boring fer their own good,” Her eyebrows twitched slightly, and she paused, staring of, before shaking her rag at Idani, “It grows in the ashes, guess all those books were good fer somefing after all, because it has a fine taste indeed.” A raucous, stale laughed husked out from between her teeth.

“Fanking you kindly madam,” she looked about, “Probably. We gets all sorts, caravans tend ta stick in the ring outside, musta seen et coming in? Besides from that, Oakheim attracts a motley bunch, not many just passing through, mainly theys eiver coming or going from the place.”

Idani took another sip, still quietly tapping out a rhythm that most minstrels would probably find maddening. Her eyes, though, told another story. Slight sorrow. I was wrong. It didn't matter, much, but she liked to think herself better than to be wrong about a brew. Of course, she knew it would probably happen again; at some point. "Did you?" Idani's tone was chipper, but still within the realm of casual exchange, "I've been on the road for about six years." That much wasn't a give away, she had come to learn. A surprise, to some; a curiosity to others. Still, Idani had her stories.

"It's good, though the abbey burning is a shame. I can't fault the result," she managed while drinking, "and I have to give you my thanks for providing it. To share one's personal stash is quite generous." Idani watched the woman, as she continued, folding her arms on the counter, "And I suppose you have the right of it. I've learned to speak quickly and to speak well. My mentor was sure to ensure my hidden predilection was made manifest." True, she did speak well; though her mentor had little to do with it. "I was going to be a singer, until he passed." She reclined, a little, though not so much as to sit properly.

Stupid old man, came the bitter thought, you should have just... Idani brought her satchel to sit in her lap, using her left hand; returning it to rest after her belongings were in their proper place. "I had thought of staying with one of the caravans, but..." A shrug accented what she had to say; Idani being small and lithe as she was, "trouble tends arise when I put myself in rough company." That, at least, was honest. Again, a yawn unbidden. "I'm curious to see one of the Oakheim-made Golems, myself. I've heard a few stories about them. Once I've done that, I'll probably be on my way; again."

She lightly tapped her fingers, after draining the flagon. Her head was fuzzy, but Idani enjoyed the usual feeling. "I'll retire, soon, if that's fine with you Miss," Idani hadn't been given a name, and hadn't asked for one. She rather liked that, though she was sure it would come up in conversation, eventually. "I must ask, before I do, however; what is it that made you stop?" She broadened her smile, a little.

“’Tis what brings most folk ‘ere, ta be sure.” She chucked the rag into a basin lined with lye suds and then turned back to Idani, brushing her hands together slow and absentmindedly, searching the sleight girl’s face. She muttered something, a prayer, perhaps, and drew a symbol in the air. “May he pass on well.”

“But a singa, hmm?” she rubbed her chin with still-damp hands, “Coulda paid yer way with that, too, if yer kin hold a note, not like these folk’ll see much past yer face anyways, most ah the sods, that is.”
“Aye, I’ll be coming on now too,” she took of her apron, revealing a simple white dress underneath, and hung it upon a hook beneath a large hog’s head.

Eyes are a curious thing, the proverbial gateway to the soul, and even for how little their features change, this holds iron truth. When Idani asked her closing question, those emerald doorways transformed, memories flashing in a furnace of emotion, forming an amalgam of sorts, a counterpoint to the room, and to her; those eyes had seen far more than most. They gazed into the far off void over Idani’s head.

“I lost something invaluable,” it was a whisper, “something I could never hope to replace.”
Then her eyes focussed, and she coughed, flushing slightly.

“Lez not ‘member my youth though, et’ll just mek me sad. This was to er room,” and she turned abruptly, striding off to the stairwell.

"I'm sorry," Idani said, rising from her seat, "I understand well what you mean. Thank you, for your blessing. I know he's somewhere better than where he was, when he passed." She took a few hopping steps to catch up, her smile half of what it was before. The look in Miss Barkeep's eyes had stricken Idani deeply. She was, despite her somewhat cynical nature, very much attuned to the suffering that surrounded her; so long as it didn't impede her ventures, or her purse. "My master's name was Kinrothu Brei. He came from Jova. I called him 'Kin'. Mayhaps you've heard of him?" Idani still spoke to her, though she was a little behind; her mind drifting to the Cherry Leaves and kind people of Jova. She had spent nearly two years there, in hiding. "His 'performing name' was 'Roth'. We never made a lot of money, but I've never seen a man who could better play the lute."

That was strangely true. Despite the man being perpetually drunk, or seeking to become such, he was an excellent musician. And an even better liar. And an even more practiced thief. Kin had become her father, for a time, after she had fled her home. It was he who had taken her from danger and delivered her into a life that the young girl wasn't fully prepared for. Still, I adjusted well. There are few who could have walked my path with such grace. A quiet chuckle, at her own sarcastic comment. She had slipped up many times, earning a good clout on the ear; a good many times. He had toughened a soft girl and made her see the world as it was.

I wish he hadn't, sometimes.

"You've a fair point, about how people would see me. If I wanted to be admired for my body, I'd have become a dancer when I had the chance," though the kind matron wouldn't see it, Idani broadened her smile, once again, taking the stairway in dainty strides. "I...don't think that sort of work is for me, though." A fingertip pressed against her lower lip, she continued. "If you're ever in need of a singer, though, and I happen to grow tired of my wandering...perhaps you and I could brighten the night's mood in your lovely Traveler's Respite!"

She passed by several rooms, until the kindly woman opened the door. She slid in, behind her; smiling. It was wonderful, despite being hardly anything special. There was a fairly large bed, a window, a couple of chairs and a lamp already lit. Idani brought the satchel from her side and picked a spot on the floor, sliding it behind her. She sat upright, but gave a bow. Sleep had already begun to fall upon her, and she had little time left.

"Thank you," she said again, smiling broadly at the woman who she felt would be a true friend...if Idani had the time to spend with her; perhaps someone she would come to adore. "I will be taking my rest. Perhaps, in the morning...you and I may speak more." Idani Umbele truly meant that. She had intended to say more, but within her next breath she was curled up on the floor; her head resting on her satchel...a whispered lullaby luring her back to the darkness.

Worlds Apart

She dipped her fingers into the water, well away from the fisherfolk and those washing their clothes. The group seemed occupied, so she had made her way away. Another minute to think, I guess. Really, Tabitha was fucking tired of thinking. Tired of walking. Tired of everything. That hadn't changed. Not for some time. Two weeks and then some. Plenty of minutes to think and widen the hole that had been drilled into her heart.

Plenty of time to stare at the wall. Or at some water. Whatever.

It didn't do well to reflect the harlequin's full visage, but Tabitha was thankful for that. Looking at herself was horrifying, in its own way. There was something in her that scared her, something that felt too much like the C-Route. Too much like bad memories. The water broke around her extended digits, creating small ripples that were torn downstream. Does it even matter? She raised her hand, fully prepared to smack herself again; but there was no fury in it. No indignation at her own weakness.

The sound of it was pleasant enough, though. A gentle lapping at the bank she crouched on and a the unbroken flow of Silverbrook's namesake. Or, at least I think that's why they call it that. Hell if I know. Tabitha grunted and lowered herself, crossing her legs and letting her hand dip beneath the surface. Bite me, I fuckin' dare ya. She slowly lifted her gaze, looking at the people; feeling the warmth on her back. Somethin' wrong with 'em, for sure. Don't seem dangerous, though.

Without thought, she touched the gun at her side with her dry hand; eyes drifting over them. Hearty waves greeted her, and broad clean smiles. Huh, wonder if my teeth look bad. That didn't really matter, she figured. It's day one, gettin' a toothbrush ain't really fuckin' matter, yet. Besides, I'm...we're goin' home soon, anyway. A smile found its way to her lips, and she waved lazily in return. It was bitter, but the residents of SIlverbrook didn't seem to know the difference.

It doesn't matter. Whatever.

Soft footsteps made Tabitha turn. A smile greeted her warmly. Less intense than the others, perhaps even natural. A young boy, wearing a clean set of rough-hewn clothes. The two stared at each other for a minute, Tabitha's smile slowly fading. She spun herself, without much grace, to face the child. Her hand came from the river cupped, cradling the water. She brought it to her mouth and drank, all the while staring. The hell ya want? Can't ya see I'm busy... Busy doing what, though, came the question. Being hurt, she told herself, over and over.

"The water ain't bad," Tabitha said, hardly surprised, "ya folk drink this all the time?" They weren't quite at eye-level, but it was close enough. The boy studied her, carefully; trepidation plain in his fidgeting, despite the smile on his face. Kinda cute. Weirdin' me out, though. Then again, she knew they were strangers who had just strolled into town. The others had made themselves busy getting food, and finding a path to Magician.

Honestly, I ain't wanna eat. This whole fuckin' trip has been a mess, I just wanna lay down and-

"Are you a clown?" Asked with all the innocence in the world. Tabitha took it like a punch in the stomach. Her mouth set in a firm line, arms crossing her stomach. No goddamn way. I ain't havin' this conversation. She stared at the child, holding back the malice she suddenly felt. "Because we don't usually get a clown, during the festival...it's..." Now his smile faltered, finally fading. He knelt close to her, whispering. "...It's not normal."

"I ain't a clown," Tabitha said, leaning slightly forward, "and I ain't wanna have to explain. I ain't here for ya festival, whatever it's about. Just passin' through." The child nodded, in response, but didn't rise. Something about him frowning seemed incredibly ominous. Wait, he's usin' me to hide right now! She didn't turn her head, but with what Tabitha remembered of the river and people she had been staring at; she was, when turned, a perfect obstruction to their line of sight. At least for someone his size. Smart kid. Wonder whatcha gotta say.

"I didn't really think you were a clown. You don't smile enough to be a regular clown...I've already seen the others...I..." the utterance was soft, and carried with it some weight that Tabitha didn't understand but fully felt, "I'm just trying to...figure out why..." Then it clicked for her. Pain laced his words. She didn't know where it came from, but she knew the signs of it well; she wore them daily, now.

"What're ya fightin' kid?" Slowly she put a hand on his shoulder, though the movement wasn't one Tabitha entirely wanted to make. "Got somethin' to do with what's goin' on around here?" A nod, full of fear. Why ya gotta come to me with this? Ya said ya saw the others. I ain't wanna... The thought went unfinished; Tabitha determined not to lie to herself in this instance. It was the same as it used to be with Rani, a hand on the shoulder; a gentle squeeze, self-loathing and somehow concern for another living being. I really gotta stop. This ain't gonna end well.

It never really did.

"Him." It lingered in the air, pointed at Tabitha like a dagger. Her gut said it was exactly who she was thinking, but her mouth didn't want the words to pass. "He digs into your head and starts taking things..." Tears brimmed in young eyes, and horror bloomed in the harlequin. "It's why they smile so much. They don't remember!" He was still kneeling, but his breaths came and went in rapid gasps. His voice hadn't risen much, but Tabitha still worried about it carrying across the water. "They think the festival's for us. It's not...it's just more...more of the same."

Tabitha stood, releasing her gentle hold on the boy's shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get out of here." The harlequin stood, stretching, as nonchalant as she could be. There were no eyes on her back, nor was there a sudden change in demeanor from those gathered at the river. "I ain't feel like sittin' down any more. Walk with me, kid." Something in her spoke. The child begs for mercy, without sayin' it. It was her voice and her thought, but the words felt foreign; shoved through a filter she wasn't familiar with. Shall we give it to him?

As she guided him away from the bank, her hand idly slipped to the gun Tristan had given her. Tabitha looked down at the boy who had warned her. His eyes were pointed at the ground, his hands curled. Keep it up, kid. Ya ain't gonna have to worry for too much longer. The houses and various shops were at her left, as she walked along their backs in silence. Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

After that moment passed...the question was finally asked.

"Where are we going?" He didn't smile. She did. Lightly, she mussed the kid's hair. He wasn't aware of her intention, and she wasn't sure she could go through with it. Part of her, however, a distant and vibrant part of her, was sure this course of action was best. "You should go back to your friends..." It was hard not to laugh, that his concern was still for her; after what he had said.

"I ain't got many friends, kid," that didn't sit right, now that she had given herself to that luminous shadow, "What's ya name, anyway?" They were still trudging along. The markets were bustling. Trade here and there. Strangely, few seemed to mind the strange girl as she walked by; just outside the rim of their daily bustle. All oblivious smiles. "My name's Tabitha. I ain't from around here, but ya already knew that."

"Ellard. I'm Ellard. H-Hello Tabitha. I'm...I'm not from here, either," It seemed a struggle for the boy to say that. He looked up at Tabitha, half bathed in her shadow; his eyes bright and without their earlier despair. "Are we going to the path?" She smiled and nodded, fingers still on the grip of a strange firearm.

"Yeah, Ellard. That's where we're going."

Shadow Smiles

@hagroden Yep! Just got some time on my hands to do the Introductory Post for Maya and Luca.

I'll be handling Eddie, sometime soon.

Sorry about the delay!

Shadow Smiles

"Great," Maya mumbled, shouldering through the gathered S.C.A.R.E, "what the ever loving fuck happened here?!" The Right Hand simply sat there, inside the housing assigned to it. Holes had been punched all throughout, rough edges splayed outward. She wasn't going to look hard for the culprit. Her question had already been answered. Maya did, however, keep her distance; though she and Luca stood a bit before the others. She lowered her weapon, but decided to keep her helmet locked in place. A small sign set the other S.C.A.R.E searching about the room, checking vents and corners for any sign of what Maya wanted.

It was much as it had been through Mataraci's feed. Blood splattered at uneven intervals, probably a direct result of the hand's sudden mutation. Crimson slicked against sterility, and licked at the base of machines she didn't fully know how to operate. The lights were in good condition, despite the pattern of holes that would suggest them being in the path of at least one extended tendril. At least, that's what she assumed had been used. Grotesque tendrils were a favored among the afflicted. Half of a body lay across the room, a trail of blood and a trio of puncture marks on the wall above it.

Several of her soldiers reported that the scene was clear. Maya remained on edge, eyes sweeping the room. "I want to know who was in here," Her voice possessed an edge honed beyond the usual intensity, "and where they are, right now. Mataraci, Waldvogel; I want anyone who was working with them, earlier today, brought here." The two ran without urging. Luca gave her a slight frown, from behind the remaining S.C.A.R.E. She turned her faceplate to him. "Any idea what happened here?"

"Well," he began, placing a hand on Paul's shoulder to slide around the larger man; his tone already insufferable, and his smile outright obscene in the scenario, "it seems to me that this hand was seeking something. Something poor Havelka couldn't provide," he motioned lazily to the half-body at his back, "shame for her, to be sure." His words gained momentum, his pitch climbing with an excitement Maya found to be unnervingly child-like. Again, the 'scientist' lowered himself into a crouch; staring hard at the blood surrounding his feet. "Other than that conjecture, I can only assume that this is a standard, albeit rapidized mutation," Maya took half a step forward before Luca had a hand raised, "That's what I would be saying if such were the case. However, as you can tell, the hand has reverted to its inert state."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure everyone can fucking tell we're looking at a hand, Mister Beake. Get on with it," Maya finished that half step and looked down on her charge. "We don't have time to be fascinated, if that fucking thing let off a bud or managed to infect one of the people who were supposed to be here; I don't think I need to tell you how much of a problem that would be."

He brought himself up, meeting her eyes. Even through the helmet, Luca seemed to know exactly where to look. "If that's your concern, send out the word for a quarantine of New Steel City. I know you've not slept in some time, Miss Wyrick, so I won't be rude, as you've kindly said before," Luca folded his arms and lifted a finger, pointing at nothing in particular, "but I will, instead, inform you that there is a distinct possibility that this," a motion to the seemingly inert appendage, "is only a fraction of our problem. The creature, Codename Smile, if I recall, is probably still quite busy."

Smug son of a bitch.

"I already know that, damnit. You think I've been sitting with my thumb up my ass for the last thirty six hours? S.C.A.R.E have been mobilized throughout the city. I haven't gotten any reports of activity, yet. Not about Smile, or any low-grade Infected. New Steel City is clean." Maya had her fill, already, she looked to Lane and Paul, "Stick with Luca, make sure nothing else goes wrong down here." The idea of an immediate threat had abated, but that didn't mean anything. It rarely did. "I'm heading back up. Call in quarantine and have this area sealed off," she heard the first syllable of protest from Luca and talked over it, "let him have his examination, but I don't want anyone who isn't authorized anywhere near this fucking catastrophe. Get word through to me if anything goes wrong."

Working her way back to the elevator was quick enough, though the ride up was excruciatingly slow. The trek to her office was tinged with dread. She had calls to make. A lot of them. The door hissed open, then clicked shut; clockwork, all the way through. Maya didn't remove her helmet, or her armor. She would be leaving the Evadne Complex, soon, to handle another matter; one that left a bad taste in her mouth. Having to report to her superiors about the constant slip-ups and bizarre invasion had been bad enough, but this would be an entirely different monster.

"Call 'The Boss'," came the whisper. She took a seat on the edge of her desk, leaning forward, elbows on her knees and her helmet resting against armored hands. The codephrase was a stupid one, but something she had come to accept. A square lit up on her desk, casting azure through the otherwise umbral room. The usual surveillance equipment went down in an instant, a falsified image of her removing her S.C.A.R.E gear displayed on whatever monitors usually paid her any mind. A noise followed, not quite a ring; something more akin to a long chime.

"Minerva," came the modulated voice of The Boss, deep and rich; but tinged with a metallic edge, "I assume this is of dire importance. It has been some time since you have made a proper call. This can only lead me to conclude that you are seeking aid. Speak true, and the door will open."

"The grave is dug," Maya hated the endless cryptic statements she had to engage in, but sometimes such things were necessary. "I seek to escape the casket." Blackthorne Medical and Munitions did, after all, have an uncanny way of forgetting those who did its dirtiest work.

Silence, for a long moment.

"You have been heard. Take up your spear. Leave the rest in my hands. We will speak again, soon."

Silence, again, but a different one. The pale light faded, darkness swarming over to take its place once again. The quarantine of New Steel City was already happening, in its quiet way. Soon, the city would be isolated. The order was sent about six hours ago. In three we'll be stuck here. They'll be stuck here. She turned, swinging her legs to the front of her desk and slid off with as much quiet as she could muster. Fucking Smile. You had to get involved, didn't you?

Maya Wyrick, Minerva, shook her head. Some things in life were unavoidable, and she had a good sense for when ugly moments were about to bite her in the ass.

Worlds Apart

They had resumed walking, after Anni had been calmed by Kate and the rest of the group agreed to continue moving forward. Toward the only place we really got to go. Kinda excited! Fuck yeah! She didn't do much to show it, but Tabitha Calvicante was in a pretty good mood. Her talk with Tristan had alleviated a small part of her self-imposed burden; the two of them cracking open a door she thought had been locked with heavy chains. It was him, and that conversation that occupied her mind; at the moment.

That's pretty deep, man, Tabitha had said, a crooked smile making its way to her lips, Ya speakin' my mind, here, really. I'm scared, too, ya know? The latter part had been whispered, to avoid prying ears. Despite the strange change in their situation, Tabitha still felt she had her pride to protect. Ain't no need to apologize to me, Tristan, She had said, still smiling, hopping to put another step between them, I always try to keep my problems to myself, and that ain't gonna cut it, I think. Ya made me realize somethin', she grew serious, meeting Tristan's myriad gaze, with what ya said about Rani and Lane. Ya absolutely right. They gonna be worried. They gonna assume we been up to somethin'. We gonna do our best to get back to 'em. To get back home. It didn't need to be said, but Tabitha wanted her new-old companion to know exactly where she stood.

Though, really the Tabitha that was currently walking the path, trailing still behind the others, thought, I ain't so sure we gonna make it with everyone in one piece. Silver eyes roved over their backs. The cop, the light-hearted girl and her more serious companion, Ascot with his angel wings, Stormy and the psycho. Again came the crooked smile. Maybe she had been wrong about them. Maybe, just maybe, she would do what she could to watch their backs. But I ain't got a power, like they do...but I can make that change, I already came close...and if not, fuck, I've got the gun Tristan gave me. She trailed a sleeve-consumed hand over her face, over the long 'scar' of ink that sat opposite her teardrop tattoo. Again, she felt the force from when she had conversed with Stormy. This time, however, it came with a pressure. Her fingers hurt and her temples throbbed, forcing Tabitha to slow her pace; another hand coming up to cradle her head. Though it only lasted for a bare moment; it was excruciating, causing her to stop walking, leaning up against a tree, until the discomfort passed.

What was I thinkin' about, again?

...

Oh, right! What me and Tristan was talkin' about. The distance they had traveled was apparent, with the slow shift of the landscape. The forest and path remained much the same, save for the thinning of the canopy and a slow decrease in the density of the trees. She didn't know, for sure, but Tabitha's gut told her they were getting closer. Idly she took note of a long, thick pillar of some rising in the distance. We must be gettin' close! Hell yeah! Despite the excitement, she wanted to recall what had bee said. It was important to her, regardless of how little Tabitha wanted to let anyone else now she was lingering on it.

He said, uh...fuck.

Pain is a boundary, but not one that ought be left long unbreached. He got that one right, for sure.

Nodding to herself, she took more fluid strides. Then I said; We just gotta be willin' to make that step, right? Tabitha wasn't sure if he understood her full meaning, but it wasn't something she was in a rush to bring up. Then they had heard something that actually brought a deep flush to Tabitha's face. A blush, for the first time in she couldn't remember how long. She desperately had wished Ascot would shut his mouth and leave her out of whatever he was scheming.

Though, on the real, it coulda been- As she had, several times before, Tabitha gave herself a hearty smack on the cheek. Now fully settled into the present, she took her eyes away from the group and let them linger on other things. Irriss was full of small wonders, she had noticed. Weird, pretty flowers. Some crazy mushrooms, here and there. And us. That made her think, again, to Tristan.

This moment pays for the rest, she repeated, internally, kicking a small rock off of the path as she passed by, We definitely payin' for somethin'. We already paid to be here. She didn't say what had crossed her mind, at this comment. That they had more than paid for what was coming to them; whether that be for better or worse.

Now, the pillar of smoke was a bit more pronounced; and Tabitha could swear that she heard heavy clanging in the distance. Thankfully the path was straight, and their view didn't change much; except the passing of trees and an outcropping of stone, eaten by vegetation, that came right before a bend in the path. "If I was a bettin' girl, I'd say Silverbook is right over there." It was an utterance, as she was sure someone at the head of the group was already taking note about it; but she pointed anyway, smiling.

Indeed, just beyond the small stone veil; there was a city. More like a pisshole. A village, perhaps, given her lack of knowledge about antiquated habitations. So this is where Magician is? I was expectin' weird towers and gargoyles, or some shit. Place looks pretty fuckin' borin'. She sighed, a little; falling a bit farther behind the group.

Shadow Smiles

@The Narrator Changes are accepted!