Sonnambula

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

"Alright. And don't bother with the mister part. Just Montag is fine." The dark-haired detective returned Abigail's nod to signal her farewell, promptly leaving the bar afterwards.

The night sky tonight was fairly crowded, with an ensemble of stars and a half-full moon picturesquely hung so high above the world. It felt almost comfortable to look at. But, though it was nice to have their illumination on a dusky evening like this, it was hardly needed. Street lights stood like sentries along each road and pavement, with some emitting an almost piercing light, others producing only a faint glow, but many were somewhere in between on that scale. Many streets were still completely packed and would be for hours, with merry rabble and burning romanticism heard and seen in equal measure in every establishment you passed. Some streets were desolate, with only the occasional couple passing through after a dinner date, eager to get back to their home to let their evening really begin. Eduard didn't bother to look through into the branching alleyways though, nor did he want to. Where there was no light, there was no law. Thinking about it, it was curious how someone could get used to this atmosphere. How this much life could draw out this much apathy. But Montag knew couldn't change how he felt, at least not now. And he was sure he wasn't alone in that sentiment, some people just hid it better.

"Ah, hello! Mr. Montag, my friend!" A familiar, boisterous voice called out from within the building he was currently walking past. Its volume, though faded, was easily audible through the large window that made up most of the front of the ground floor belonging to the relatively small, terraced building. Montag looked up, surprised to see that he'd been so deep in thought that he'd almost completely missed the place he'd set out to go to, especially when it was so familiar to him. A small bell hung on the front door chimed as he entered and passed by the staircase to his immediate right, instead carrying on past the reception desk to the somewhat portly Turk working diligently at his own desk, masses of paper and documents spread about him. At the moment though, he was simply looking to the detective with a beaming, bearded face.

"Evening Deniz. Just you tonight?" Montag stopped next to Deniz's desk, craning his head around to catch a few squinted glimpses at any interesting news that would be printed the following morning.

"Just me, Monty. Most of the other night-workers are off sick. Some nasty bug. Don't know how it didn't get to me. Must be all this Ayran, eh?! Ahahahaha!" Deniz slapped his belly and threw back his head, his curly black hair bouncing a bit as he belted out some unsurprisingly loud laughter. Montag couldn't help but smile just a little bit, waiting for his now red-faced friend to calm himself down and continue talking. "Ahh, anyway... Tonight's been busy for me, so I wasn't able to bring the usual, my friend. I'll get the next two days off for this, but next time I see you I'll bring the kebab along with some extra sujuk as well for you to enjoy!"

"No worries Deniz, I'm not hungry tonight anyway, but thanks. I can't stay and chat though, I've got work to do as well." Eduard began to step away from the desk, taking a moment to take off his coat as he spoke. "Oh, and by the way, a red-haired woman will probably pass through in the next couple of hours. Make sure that she doesn't go into the wrong building and point her to my office."

"Ah, another client?" Deniz inquired casually, bowing his head down again as he started to focus back on his work.

"Yeah... Well... Not exactly." Montag spoke, giving a slightly indecisive answer as he approached the staircase leading to his office on the top floor. Mind you, how exactly was he supposed to refer to her without giving away his activities of the evening?

"Ahh, I see how this is. Detective Montag strikes again, ah? Another case, another lady sedu-" Deniz was cut off suddenly, but not too surprisingly, by the loud slam of a door as Montag dismissed the teasing in the clearest non-verbal way possible. Deniz paused for a moment, before chuckling to himself again quietly as he got back to work.

Tower of Fable

There was barely enough time for Thomas to register, let alone celebrate, his first actual victory, with the succeeding events after his clean slice through the giant serpent happening almost simultaneously. As soon as he landed his head spun to look at Clair as she cried out in confusion at what had just happened, distracting him from bracing for the sudden burst of energy right next to him. He was forced back a bit, dropping his glaive, and fell back into the stream of serpentine shadows that surrounded him and everyone else there. Before he had a chance to get up off the ground and retrieve his weapon, he was pinned and coiled up in one or multiple, he couldn't tell.

"Ahh! Damnit...!" The onset of pain immediately after was figuratively and literally bone-crushing, his eyes widening so much at first he almost thought they might pop out of their sockets. Finding it difficult to breathe, Thomas coughed and grunted while trying to strain the dark forms off of him, but with each push came more resistance and pain in return. Unable to see or turn to any of the others, only really able to hear them, he began to panic as he felt the air be quite literally be forced out of his body with every breath. In his panic though, he reminded himself of the cards in his pocket. His Serei.

Though his arms were held quite tightly against his side, they were in a position where his hands could just about reach his pockets. He winced while his fingertips flicked desperately around the tops of the three cards that had concealed themselves away. At last, he managed to manoeuvre one between his index and middle finger, sliding it out into view carefully and trying his best not to let it slip from his grasp. He peered down to the card's cover, though didn't take too much time to pay attention to detail, apart from the name and the face. He wasn't really sure what exactly he was supposed to do, so simply raised the card up as far as he could and called out into the air through partially-gritted teeth.

"I summon you, Leyna!" Thomas waited, staying as still as possible so as not to let go of the card, hoping to whatever higher power that might've been out there that he hadn't just made himself look like an idiot for nothing.

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

"Alright, if that's how you wanna do things. We'll stick together." Montag agreed, leaning back on the stool to relieve it of the tension he was feeling from leaning over the bar counter for so long. He looked over to Abigail to tell her he'd run out of cigarettes, but instead of red hair, his eyes fell upon raven locks. Mary's to be precise. He didn't let himself get surprised by her sudden appearance, the only sign of him being phased by the unexpected act being a slightly sharp inhale of breath.

He didn't even have time to say a word to her though, her voice showing a clear tone of annoyance at herself for missing this out before, and for impatience to just get it over with, lest she ruin her previously somewhat dramatic exit even more. Still, it showed that even a mysterious person like her was prone to making very human mistakes.

Then the pocket watch was handed to him, and another, almost completely identical in appearance, was handed to Abigail. It fit near-perfectly in his palm, and though he definitely wasn't an appraiser, it didn't take much inspection to tell that these watches had been made some time ago. At the very least, they weren't new. He turned it over and around, eyeing its features and worn-out appearance. He knew there was something more about this watch though, he wouldn't have been given it if there wasn't, and his suspicions were confirmed when he flipped open the cover over the watch's face.

The glass faces themselves were cracked, with dust layering over over the face and even in between the cracks as well. It definitely fit in with the rest of the watch's aesthetic. What was most interesting about the watch upon opening it up, however, was the time it showed. Though it wasn't too farfetched an idea for a watch this old and decrepit to be telling the wrong time, 12:07 in the morning was an oddly specific time, especially since the subject of the Arnault Villa Party was still fresh in his mind. It was for that reason that he wasn't too surprised when Mary revealed what the watch being stuck on that time meant. What he wasn't expecting, however, was for the watch to suddenly spring to life, as though it had just realised that it was telling the wrong time. Sprung to life seemed a particularly apt term as well. He didn't have Abigail's watch, but if it was the same as his he assumed it emitted the same warm feeling, almost like some kind of aura. He probably would've convinced himself away from his suspicions though, had it not been for Mary's intervention once again, her words almost humanising the object he held in the palm of his hand.

He stared at it with hard, dark eyes, almost like he was trying to force whatever might've been inside to show itself through sheer intimidation. He didn't look or pay any heed to Mary as she left, his focus very much on the pocket watch, though she probably would've appreciated that more than anything else, given how awkward and embarrassed she had seemed before. Its ticks filled his ears, each passing second a countdown the foretold fatality that they had to prevent.

After a long pause of silence and staring, Eduard finally lifted his head, blinking his eyes to refocus them as thought he'd been caught in a daze of his own making. He closed the lid of the watch and slipped it into one of his trouser pockets, making sure to tuck in the chain so it couldn't be taken without his knowing, and turned again to his new partner.

"Sorry, I was just trying to notice if there was anything different about these watches, apart from the obvious at least. But listen, I don't think it's a good idea to discuss planning here. It's too open, anyone could be watching or listening..." He took a quick glance around his peripheral vision and ahead of him, but not behind him. He didn't want to make it obvious that they were discussing something confidential. He took out the empty, and slightly soggy, cigarette packet from his pocket and swiftly pulled a pen over from behind the bar. He wrote quickly, and the ink smudged a bit when it came in contact with the water, but it was still legible. It read: "The New Haven Beacon, 32 Fairmile Road."

"The New Haven Beacon's a newspaper, and my office is just above their building. It's not big, and it's in a long line of other buildings, but it should be noticeable. Just go in and the staircase to my office is up the stairs to your immediate right. Don't bother the editors and workers downstairs too much though, they breathe down my neck enough as it is, so just go up as soon as you come in and knock on the door." It was the most that Montag had spoken to any of the new associates he'd met so far that day. After relaying so much information, he took a deep breath, hoping that Abigail had understood. Either way, she had the address.

The time had been about 8:45PM when he'd closed the pocket watch before, so by his mark it was probably about 8:50PM by now. "Come there in 2 hours. It'll be open, don't worry. We'll talk more then." He stood up purposefully, looking down to Abigail once more, in case she had anything more to say before he made his leave.

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

Montag raised an eyebrow when he heard Meropis. Mary was right to call it tacky; why would any politician want to live in a place like that? It wasn't like Arnault was struggling financially, at least it was very likely that he wasn't. Eduard himself knew the area fairly well from his time with the police. Brutal beatings and stabbings were handed out there as much as canapés were in more affluent areas. That being said, the politician was definitely in the right place if he wanted to carry out dirty dealings. But the right place didn't necessarily mean a good place to be, especially in this case. And, as for "the gods"? He was tempted to ask what she meant by that, and whether she was being serious or not, but it seemed like the time they could be gathered for was wearing thin. And besides, the answer Mary would give would only lead to more questions, most likely.

As Mary adopted a more serious tone, in juxtaposition to her previously mostly casual and mischievous demeanour, Montag's instincts also went on the alert. If all that Mary had said was true, then his list of enemies would be growing, if it hadn't already. He instantly went to take a cigarette from his pocket, but memory was jogged as his fingers fell on an empty pack. He took it as a sign to pay more attention, and he quickly took a mental note of Mary's instructions, as well as the two photos thrust in front of him. She was a pretty girl, the young Arnault, and her more defined features would definitely make it easy to spot her quickly, even in a crowded area. The house, in contrast, looked dreary, though maybe that was the fault of the lack of colour. Still though, he found himself agreeing with what Mary said.

Eduard relaxed slightly as he sensed things coming to an end, his edge of paranoia from before almost completely vanishing. He took heed of Mary's final words to Abigail and himself, returning her goodbye with a small nod, with a thought of if or when they would meet again playing around in the back of his mind. Once she was out of sight, he turned to his redheaded acquaintance next to him, sliding the photographs her way.

"So, how d'you want to do this? You want to discuss a plan or strategy now, or tomorrow? Or are you someone who prefers to do these things alone." Montag questioned flatly, before tapping the two photos with an index finger. "We should destroy these as well. If things end up getting messy tomorrow, we don't want to be found in possession of these."

Tower of Fable

Thomas gave Caprice a confused look as she rose up from next to him, completely unaware of his careless handling of the deadly weapon he held. That look was quickly gone though, a concerned but ready expression taking over his face as Caprice confirmed his suspicions. Well, that and a few more, much louder, noises echoing through the halls and stairways they had made their way through previously.

“Alright, let’s get going then.” No sooner had he given Caprice an affirming nod, Thomas was off again. He figured at this point that any speed he ran at would probably be fairly simple for those in his group to keep up with so he didn’t stop to look back, hopping down steps and creasing carpets in his wake.

As he ran he began to get a better idea of what was up ahead, aggressive hisses amidst the ever-loudening bangs and crashes setting up his expectations. It was for that reason that he wasn’t really surprised to see what he saw when he finally reached the scene, chunks of the splintered door about his shoes. Not too surprised at least.

At a glance, the boy noticed a distinct lack of Kanbaru in the room with Clair and... was that Rose? Plus, he’d expected a large snake, that was a given, but he definitely hadn’t expected one that could shoot energy balls. Nonetheless, he didn’t give himself time be be deterred or discourage himself from entering the fray. The snake hadn’t noticed him, at least not yet, and it seemed pretty distracted anyway.

Once again, Thomas didn’t even turn to Caprice, not wanting to wait too long to give his cover away. He didn’t even know if she was still with him, but he hoped his body language would be enough of an indicator.

He sprinted into the theatre just as Clair threw her weapon at the serpent, hopping up onto one of the chairs and using it as a stepping stone to leap into the air as he got close to it. He raised his glaive high above his head before slashing downwards towards the snake’s coiled, scaled body. He didn’t doubt the naivety and risk of his stunt for a second but, that being said, he probably didn’t quite have the finesse yet to try anything smarter yet anyway.

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

As Mary finished, Montag reflected on all that she’d just said. For once, the monetary gain wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, the six thousand dollars coming across only as a bonus incentive. He drew in another tainted breath through his cigarette as he tried to piece together things in his head. The fact that someone would die by either his or Abigail’s hand, or even that one of them could die by chance was enough to think about already.

And this “Pandora’s Box”, did that have something to do with New Haven? Was it New Haven itself? And what had the box released if it had been opened? As well as that, Marie Arnault being the daughter of someone beyond this world made things even more mind-boggling. But if she was really that important, it would make sense that the Fates would want her to stay alive. And on that note, who were the Fates? What were they? Obviously fate was a concept that he knew much of the basis of, and everyone had their ideas on it, but the way Mary put it almost made it sound as though these “Fates” were in control of it.

Eduard quickly pulled himself out of his mind and his thought process at that point though, realising he was falling into a rabbit hole of questions he couldn’t know the answer to just yet, and ones that Mary probably wouldn’t answer, at least for now. And, though much of his scepticism remained, what did he have to lose? Well, maybe he had a bit to lose, but this was an opportunity he wasn’t going to get again if it was real. It would be lost forever.

He turned to Mary, returning her smile ever so slightly for the first time, before going back to his normal straight-faced self.

“I accept the assignment. Just give me a time and a place and I’ll make sure I’m there. I have a lot of questions for you at some point though.” He gave Mary a relaxed, but somewhat piercing, gaze before turning to Abigail, finishing his cigarette and extinguishing it in the ash tray as he waited to see what she’d say.

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

Nodding at Abigail when she introduced herself, Montag took a mental note of what she’d told him about herself. From what she’d told him, the two were quite different, but that wasn’t a bad thing. After all, two skillsets are better than one. Well, probably. His attention was quickly switched back to Mary though, as she began to talk again.

The type to get caught up in bad storms? Eduard gave Mary a curious look as his hands reached to take the final cigarette from his pack. What reason did she have to say something ominous like that? And this wasn’t some kind of joke, given the look on her face.

Opening his mouth slightly, he was about to ask Mary what exactly she’d meant, but was interrupted before he’d even spoken by her impatience to move on. And, though the question still bounced around at the front of his mind, Montag’s own impatience to hear what exactly Mary had to tell them took precedence over that. Instead he raised the cigarette up to his half-open lips and let it fill the space his curiosity had created, before igniting it with his lighter.

Staring at Mary, returning her gaze, he listened attentively while taking occasional puffs from his cigarette. He knew of Thomas Arnault, and had always had suspicions and traces of evidence that he was dirty, but had never managed to find anything concrete. Politicians always had ways to cover their mud-stained tracks. It was certainly unusual that he’d have his suspicions confirmed this way, but at the moment that wasn’t important.

What was even more unusual was the situation they were being thrust into. He’d guarded one or two people before, but never someone who was definitely fated to die without his protection, or him taking someone else’s life. It almost seemed unbelievable.

As Mary had suspected, a boiling pot of questions was bubbling away in Montag’s head, just as it probably was in Abigail’s as well. He leant his elbows on the counter and looked straight ahead to think, continuing to take a few drags from his cigarette as he cut and refined his questions down to a select few, before turning back to Mary, who had seemed to quickly switch back to her more casual and jovial demeanour.

“Yeah, I wanna ask something. How do we know what you’re saying it true? I mean, this seems like an easy way to get someone you don’t like killed and then have us pay the price for it. How can we be sure you’re not setting us up?” Montag paused to let the question sink in, taking another drag from his cigarette, before continuing. “And, if what you’re saying is true, why are we saving this girl? What’s so special about her that we’re defying the Fates to keep her alive?” As he finished speaking, he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, his gazed fixed on Mary as he waited for an answer.

Tower of Fable

Glancing around the room, Thomas realised this was probably the part where he had to decide which group to split up with. He flinched a bit as a large crash in the direction Kanbaru and a few others had gone startled him, though the sight beyond the door which had fallen victim to the crash in question was quite alluring. He’d only ever really seen opera houses in photos, and the vision of one right before his very eyes made him feel very slightly giddy. Mind you, he thought, it’s not like he’d ever been anywhere like this before in the first place.

That being said, the cacophony that Akiko and Ami seemed to be making their way towards equally caught his interests. He’d also noticed that Caprice seemed to be hanging around him, not really going anywhere in particular, just fiddling with some cards. Was she just standing around or was she waiting for him to do something? Figuring the latter, he began to move in the direction he’d seen the other two go before, from which the sound of expletives and insults was very much audible.

He called out to Caprice behind him, just to make sure she was following if that was her intention. “Hey, it sounds like the throne room might be this way. And it doesn’t look like- oh yeah, wait. Where did they go?” The realisation of the disappearance of the thorn hounds struck Thomas almost as suddenly as they’d vanished. But, as curious an event as that was, they’d probably find out what had happened later. All that mattered was that they were gone, leaving an open path for Thomas, and Caprice if she was following, to continue towards the chambers.

Just before they reached the room in question though, Thomas abruptly spun on his heels, raising his glaive slightly his violet eyes widening. He could’ve sworn he’d heard something from behind them, in the direction that the other group had gone in, the opera house.

“Did you hear that? It sounded like something coming from that theatre room.” Thomas asked, half-whispering for no particular reason, his head turning to Caprice.

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

Montag didn’t really know how to react to Mary’s response. In a way, it felt as though she was slightly patronising, but the sincerity of her words felt genuine enough for that not to be the overwhelming factor. And, after all, she was probably right in her evaluation of him, and it’s not like he wasn’t used to being talked down to. The mention of an assignment had him curious though, and he mulled over the thought of it silently in his head, sipping his drink and smoking his cigarette all the while.

Having not heard the ring of a new entry, Eduard seemed ever so slightly bewildered, having snapped out of a daze of thought and cigarette smoke, as a new figure suddenly stood by him and Mary. He looked up at her as she spoke, her striking and fiery red hair along with her more than idiosyncratic accent giving him a clear idea of where her origins probably laid. You didn’t need to be a detective to figure that out.

The silences between Mary speaking to each of them in turn drew longer each time she finished saying something, and though there was no tension in that, it was something they were probably all thinking, and something she quickly addressed. It felt almost like a family matriarch pushing three awkward cousins into saying ‘hello’ to each other. But, Montag guessed he was as good a person as any, necking the remainder of his drink and placing the glass back down on the counter with a contained bang.

“I’ll start then. My name’s Eduard Montag, but just Montag or Monty will do. Or, I guess, Eduard as well. I’m a private investigator, or detective, whatever you wanna call it.” He took a long drag from his cigarette as he thought of what to say next, smoking it right down to the filter before exhaling a long plume of misty grey smoke and extinguishing the cigarette on the ashtray between him and Mary. “I’m guessing I’m here for the same reason as you.” He gestured to Abigail. “And you too as well now, I suppose.” He nodded to Vi, glancing down at her letter on the counter.

“But that’s pretty much my story. Or as much as I wanna say for now. Nice to meet you guys though.” Montag didn’t really feel it necessary to say anymore about himself, or his past given how little he knew of these people, and how irrelevant most of it probably was to the situation. They seemed nice enough though, but he guessed he’d find out more fairly soon.

Tower of Fable

Thomas felt slightly unnerved at the close to casual tossing of the thorny dogs that had felt, to him at least, like daunting obstacles only minutes before. It wasn’t like the others had much trouble at all though, and when all was said and done things had settled, a bit least. Well, at least there was no more tossing of weird bracken monsters, but there was still a little snark being thrown around every now and then.

His cheek twitched from the pat that Rose gave it, Thomas having almost completely forgotten that she had still been perched on his shoulder this whole time. As she flew away to settle on Clair’s shoulder, he gave her a slight smile, one she probably didn’t notice, but at least it was a sign that the boy was becoming more comfortable now in the group.

He listened to Clair carefully as she conjectured about the whereabouts of the thief, trying to ignore the other shenanigans going on between the others ladies and Garou, before a definite rumble and subsequent shake of the mansion almost sent him off his balance. He turned to the wolfman, who seemed just as confused as he was, if not a little more angry, and the following smashing of windows and patter of movement nearby was enough to suggest that Clair probably had it wrong with the whole ‘attract the least attention possible’ thing.

The fact that the thorned hounds moved towards the room all the clatter came from almost on instinct suggested that it was probably important. Maybe even where the mistress of this place was. He advanced a few steps towards the chambers, before turning back to the rest of the group to make sure he wasn’t just going in alone.

Thomas looked to Garou as well, who suddenly seemed quite relaxed at the prospect of an intruder in the mansion. “Hey, uh… shouldn’t you come with us as well?” He questioned, something he realised just after might not have been such a great idea, given how prone to acting out this guy seemed.