Zarina materialized atop the now slain thresher corpse that remained afloat, partially kept afloat thanks to the hooks many of the ships had planted upon it. Her hand reached into some of the bulging guts by its jaw and drew the obscenely large buster blade as if it had always been her's. With a single hand, no less! Albeit with the help of the gift and the unnatural physical might helped too.
With the grotesquely large cleaver over her shoulders in an all-too-cool pose, the partially transformed wildblood overwatched the vultures now plucking the corpse for winnings. Vivid, near-reptilian eyes glowing with a golden hue scrutinized all those that bothered to dumpster dive. Trinkets and baubles were fair game, but there remained hazards she trusted none with after the recent developments. Not even her own allies.
It was a while after Zarina took her watch that she heard the thud of a chest dropping at her feet, the top flew open and a few loose coins clattered out. Leon stood on the other side as the kind donatdaer of such loot. "A tribute for the fearsome dragon." His smile was apologetic. If Zarina had half the greed she jested to have then the problem would be solved, but the performer knew it wouldn't be that easy. A gift of gold was simply a consolation prize to the loss of her plan.
He stood there beside her and took in the Virangish girl's defined draconic features. This is the strongest he had seen them so far, even more than in the Forked Tower.
Zarina peered down at the chest. With a light tap of her boot against it, the bowels ripped open to present the winnings. One coin stood out, one she drew in her mind to compare with another coin she prompted into flight - a silver coin with the same face on both sides. “A bribe.” she remarked, her voice quite nasally to accentuate the unimpressed nature of her reaction. “Really, Leon?” she rolled her eyes and did not seem to have any qualms in pocketing that one valuable coin after a brief comparison. She hadn't rejected it, at the very least.
“If you're going to say something about how you wanted to save lives-” she raised her hand and waved in dismissal. “Save it, I already know.”
"An apology." The performer squatted down and begun picking the scattered coins back up into the chest. "But I won't deny you the sense of dignity. I'll put the rest toward something good for us all, I never had much care for money." He went to close the lid.
Leon paused, Zarina had beaten him to the chase. "I won't bore you with the repetition, only that I doubted myself when I saw your plan having almost succeeded. I was ready to join you and ensure it's success. Then it started drawing again..." He put a hand on her shoulder. "I wasn't sure if it had been sedated enough and I saw students nearby it, you most of all. Who knows of I made the right call, but I did it to save your life Zarina." He retreated the comforting hand. He had no clue how the dragon would react to that. Not with flames, he hoped.
Zarina raised her foot and pressed it upon the chest's lid, closing it and preventing it from budging. “I may act offended, that doesn't mean I'm above taking your advance.” attempts at veiling her smug satisfaction had failed. A sharp-toothed smirk reigned supreme on her expression. “It will go to a good cause.”
Reptilian, almost snake-like, eyes peered toward the hand that touched her. No sudden movement or reaction of great aversion. Only an uncomfortable and frigid look. “Of all people, Leon,” the blade over her shoulders was planted back onto the thresher's carcass and she leaned her shoulder against the flat surface of the massive cleaver, arms crossed. “I'm not the one you should fear for. In the blink of an eye, I can be gone. With animal-like brutality, I can rip off a thresher's brain. No matter how small it may be.” she dedicated her gaze to the scenery she had charged herself with surpervising. “I don't hate you. I'm not even truly upset. But I want you to do something to dispel a doubt I have-” there was no eye-contact as she spoke solemnly. “Make sure your 'allies' are clean from the poison we've found here. Hurt them if you must. You do not want to appear as Revidia's dog. You do not want this to happen again.”
Leon held his hands up from the chest and gave a small huff of annoyance. He wondered if Zarina was getting a kick out of sending mixed messages. He rose back up. (If this gets posted, this chest exchange can take place before the other thing)
Leon shrugged. "And yet I feared for you anyway. I'm sure you would have done the same for me." His tone was no longer apologetic but conclusive, it was what it was. He walked forward to stand beside her and followed her line of sight, feigning the same vigil the girl had dedicated herself to.
"My allies?" He had to take some time to think about what she meant. He thought of the other Revidians on the mission, then realised that one hadn't been among the looters at all. "It's a generous statement to consider Trypano my ally. Myself and Rikard made a pact with her to ensure the weapon's destruction. But I suppose she has a short memory when it comes to allegiances, I don't trust her to have kept that promise. Its fortunate we will all return to the same place when we leave Zengali."
Before Zarina could reply, Leon raised a hand to cut her off. "Food for thought, Zarina. Do you think that this weapon would be entrusted to an expedition around Mezegol if it were the only copy?" He turned toward her and looked into her eyes with certainty and resolution. "Do you trust me, Zarina? Despite all this, do you still believe in me?"
“No, I'm willing to bet they have a festering supply.” answered Zarina as she turned her gaze to meet Leon's. “I trust your heart, less so your head.” cold frankness came with unflinching eyes. A mixture of disappointment and frustration, directed at the universe rather than Leon himself, was the concoction that created such an emotionless reaction. “The fact that they likely have copies of the stuff made the plan all the more important. It WILL appear again. It WILL spread. And we don't have a proven weapon against it, other than the same old.” a nasal sigh escaped her.
“That bitch - the creepy one - was willing to let my friend die in order to study some disgusting slime. She is not a friend to anyone. A book you can most certainly judge by the cover.”
When Zarina confirmed her trust, Leon seemed satisfied and allowed himself a smile. Even if it was backhanded, it was good enough for him. With a wave of his hands, he put a sonic bubble around them and went back to talking business. He thought about bringing up the fact that Zarina had also been willing to give lives to study a slime today. But what did that achieve? How did that benefit his goals? "Zarina, I don't trust Trypano for more than just that. If she has taken off with the weapon, she stands to support a regime that would take the lives of thousands. She will see justice for it, I swear that."
After his vow, there was a short pause as he pondered something. "Another thing to consider: if you retrieved the slime, what if you couldn't find an effective cure in time? The Sovereign Pact could get the weapon and now it is just a normal part of war, both sides will use it because they fear the other will use it first... Right now, it's contained to a small secretive group, but undoubtedly they take their orders from someone." Leon looked at Zarina and smiled sweetly for outside eyes, but the subject matter gave it a conspiratorial look. "Would it not be better for the weapon to be disposed of before it sees the light of day?"
Zarina cocked her head, and then an eyebrow. “What are you getting at, Leon?” her tone seemed challenging, but her gaze oozed of curiosity. “Such a secretive group would be ... Hard to reach. I would wager that getting such people out of the picture would have bigger implication for the world than the removal of a bad, bad plague.”
It was the kind of subject matter that justified the sonic bubble he put around them. Leon's expression was performative, he wore a kind smile while he spoke of dire subject matters. To the outside eye it could have been perceived as a private conversation for personal reasons.
"Being hard to reach tends to happen with secretive groups, but I'd wager we both have a pretty good idea on who calls the shots. Even if we somehow stopped the weapon here, another would take its place, and another. A man who condones such things remains in power so what happened here is just a battle in a greater war." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Imagine if that man was replaced by someone kinder who would want this all to stop. Someone more popular to gain the support of the people. Someone, frankly, hotter." He gave Zarina a wink at the final jest to make it clear that that 'someone' was himself.
Ideas on who this replacement could be ran through her mind. It all seemed like a web of possibilities, many of which had their flaws but also their upsides. Then, of course, he used 'hotter' as a qualifier. The dullest of stares took shape upon the dragon's visage. “You? Really?” she scrutinized his form from top to bottom. She then tapped her thick nail upon the forearm he had extended toward her shoulder. “Are you even Revidian?”
"You have such little faith?" Leon was beginning to get tired of Zarina's mean mugging and his smile started to fade. He retracted his hand back and faced the scene of the thresher's remains. "It's simple enough really, I just need to marry-" He caught himself with a grimace. "Well, I'll find a way. If it is a matter of the people's support, I already have it and I'm Revidian enough... I don't plan to let the possibility stop me. I have the ability to change things, Zarina, my goal hasn't changed since the Forked Tower. This is the route for me to do it."
“I devoted my faith to a God that ended up being a guy in a big parka playing games in the trials. And I'm also not in the best of moods.” Zarina's eyes took in the gore that Leon had been watching, emphasizing the source of her discontent. “You alone won't make it. The great and mighty Hugo tried, and look what happened to him.” her crossed arms tightened around herself. “So I'll be skeptical. For your sake. You've got enough Yes Men. It's the least I can do as your genuine ally.”
"Well there's a big difference. I hop around and play games in the Trials and people only have more faith in me." He chuckled the thought away. "But your right, Zarina, I can't do it alone. I'm not even entirely sure you can help with this, but I told you anyway... I need you on my side and I don't want to let something like this get in the way of it. So trust me that justice will be done."
Leon shifted his eyes toward Zarina and tilted his head slightly to her direction. "We have an entire world to change, let's not stop that here. I don't think I'll get far without you staring me down on the occasion and letting me know my wrongs." He explained with an amused tone.
“Here's not the place for the details.” reminded Zarina as the vultures were piling up their bounties. One was missing, as expected. “But I'm with you.”
"I am happy to hear that." He said sweetly.
"Now!" he announced in a far more playful and upbeat tone. "As much as I trust you, I would rather minimise the risk of waking up with a knife in my back. So, we were actually talking about your love life this whole time. Me, being the nosy romantic, was prying into your fling with that Tarlon girl, Miret, was it? And of course, you were unimpressed by the poor timing, didn't want to talk about it, and told me to stay out of it. Agreed?"
"You may slap me if you think that'll sell it better."
The moment Leon finished and brought up even the the word 'slap', Zarina immediately seized the opportunity and raised her fist, arm bent in a ninety degree angle, to collide with his nose. Yes, she intended to potentially break it. Luckily they had binders up the wazoo.
“Great idea. Don't bring her up again, though. I'm still moody over it.” she warned with a faux-smile that was supposed to denote a another layer of fakeness. Although, truthfully, she did feel he had deserved some of it, tasteless comment or not.
Leon had extended his head forward a little to received the slap. He did not expect a punch in the nose and he recoiled back at the impact. "Ow, ow ow," he spoke through hands that cupped his mouth, "I had meant a pretend slap, Zarina..." He hunched over and expended some binding magic before rising again to a face that is perfectly fine.
"Honestly... this face is worth more than Zenobucks, you know." With a huff, he adjusted his clothing. Traces of blood on his hands indicated that it wasn't Zarina's blow being poor but more Leon's proficiency in cosmetic binding that had his face come out alright.
Then, when the silence took in, Leon realised it probably wasn't right to bring up. "... I'll keep her name off my tongue. But don't be afraid to let me know when you need help. I'm quite the asset in that regard and I do owe you a few favors." With that he rose a hand, clicked his fingers, and the sonic bubble dissipated.
It was right then that the answer seemed to present itself, at least from the other end of things. Whatever other leads they'd gotten, the one pointing to the Cola Brothers had seemed the strongest and they were on their way. Drawing close, Abdel had reached out with his tethered range and picked up what he was pretty sure were the rest of the group. They'd just finished beating up some hoods and were not far from the warehouse that they'd been told to bring the money to.
Xiuyang felt a pinch behind her ears that could only have been the group's lone tethered: <Close. 400. There soon. Learn? Danger?>
The reply came in the form of subtle binding magic. Xiuyang tattooed it temporarily across her shoulders where only Abdel could see. Learned much. Didn't catch it, yasoi. Colas, big threat. We go in with money, you ambush?
<Big Enemy. Big Enemy. Big Enemy. Careful. Distance. Will ambush.>
Once at the edge of the supposed Cola 'territory', Abdel instinctive reached out with the gift. Blood pumping. Echoing stridors. Sweat drops slowly smealessly through dry skin. “Man, tied up on the floor. Porbably Yasoi.” he reported with squinted eyes. Dayanara gurgled, curious as to the smells and sounds coming from the warehouse.
“Thre other people around him-” the squinting intensified. Was something wrong? It was not strain but a second-guessing. “One is MASSIVE. A monster. I have no idea how someone can get that big.” flabbergasted, he blinked a few times to reconcile what he had perceived with reality. “There are other people outside working. I can't tell if they with the folks inside as employees or others.” before any sort of conclusion could be made, he raised his hand to keep the attention on him. “There's a LOT of energy near the doors. I ... Can't tell what it is.”
Johann nodded once. He took a deep breath, psyching himself up, and pounded a fist into his open hand. He seemed quite anxious. "Then it's time for me to become a monster of our own," he decided, taking another steadying breath. "Maybe the other group comes in with the money and we're the assurance outside? the element they don't know about?"
“This is what the others are planning. I've warned them of the fiend.” Abdel confirmed.
"So, he said a lot of words, but did we learn anything?" Xiuyang asked Ashon as she approached him. Then, suddenly, she erected a sonic bubble. "Hm. Abdel is advising that we should keep our distance. There's a 'big enemy' at the warehouse, whatever that might mean." Meanwhile, she replied to Abdel as she dropped the bubble. Big enemy, inside warehouse? What else?
<Doors danger. Mystery. Three bads. One BIG. Two not BIG. One man down.>
Xiuyang snorted at "not BIG." She wasn't sure why she found it funny. Nerves, maybe? Then came her reply. Jaxan? she asked simply.
She put up the bubble again, this time making sure to include Seviin. "Only that our enemies have two tricks up their sleeves. A 'big enemy' inside the warehouse, and a mystery door trap. That's a bit of a pissoff. I wanted at least the appearance of a negotiation, but it seems we're in for a fight as soon as we're there."
< Not Know. >
Jaxan, resistance. Enemy of Colas, Xiuyang quickly relayed to Abdel. Negotiations likely futile.
Whatever they were discussing, they did not have long to do so. Niallus was the first to notice it, with Abdel being so distracted and Johann focusing intently on... something. One could sense chemical changes within him, though.
There were a couple blasts of energy and then a young yasoi woman came racing towards them from the direction in which they were headed, heartrate elevated, bright red hair pasted to her face in sweaty tangles or trailing off behind her. "You fucking bastards!!!" she screamed in the direction of something behind her. Tears were rolling down her face, and she kept running right past them.
Abdel side-stepped. The human-conatct role could be relegated to another, he had to figure out what had just happened. More Tethered senseroo.
Seeing the red head run towards them. Perhaps this is a sort of way for us to help, thinking the best idea, he decided to help her from whatever she's running from.
"Over here, we'll help you." He said to her. As he dashed towards her.
The woman ran right into his arms. She was small and soft. "They took it, the bastards!" she wailed. How the tears poured from her. "It was my future and they took it!" For a moment, she pulled away, perhaps realizing that she had just run into the arms of a complete stranger. "Oh, you're a yan... A huusoi. I-I'm sorry." She clenched her fists in helpless rage. "Those bastards."
Niallus braced himself as she ran into him. When she pulled away informing that, he is indeed a Yani."Yes i am, its ok. We aren't going to hurt you." trying to put her at ease, "What seems to be troubling you?" He asks her.
"It's those Cola Brothers!" she bawled. "I..." She swallowed, and then hung her head in shame. "I was forced to work for them. They paid well. I..." She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "I needed the money. It would've been enough to start my own business, to not just be another poor girl from a broken land, to follow in my father's footsteps and be a candymaker." She took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. "It was my last time doing... that work before I'd have been done with it forever."
"Fuck," she breathed, almost inaudibly. "They didn't pay me, they stole everything, and then they were going to..." She stopped there, noticing the others, suddenly. "Sorry. Thanks for being here. They won't chase if you're here, at least." She looked uncertain, regarding Niallus' companions as well as him. "Could I impose a bit and stick with you just until the danger's cleared?" she asked anxiously.
Abdel remained quiet for a bit. He took his time to alternate between keeping a keen eye on the warehouse and vetting this woman.
It was odd that they'd make a scene now of all times. Why would they want more attention on them?
“You should go home.” the Skuggvar-boy said flatly. “Once we're done, you'll get your money.”
She came up short and swallowed. "I..." she breathed heavily, trying to steady herself. "Wait," she remarked. "One you're done?" She shook her head. "You're not thinking of fighting those monsters, are you?"
She turned to Niallus? "For me!?" She drew back and shook her head. "While I appreciate that chivalry isn't dead - " She glanced Abdel's direction. "Though bedside manner might be - Don't risk yourself on my account, unless..." She trailed off. "You weren't already..." She backed off, shaking her head. ""Oh no no nooo..."
“If it comes down to it.” he kept it at that. There didn't seem to be any sort of lust for blood, but he did have two vicious-looking Skuggvars. The sort that could maul just about anything - Look at that wicked gurgling!
Oksana and Abdel spoke and then Niallus did. The woman perked up immediately. "Yes!" she exclaimed. Her eyes darted about. "You shouldn't fight them. they're strong and devious and they've been turning that place into a warehouse." She shook her head. "They've been building near the doors and I'm pretty sure those are traps." She shrugged sheepishly. "Not that I can say for sure. Not really the sort of thing a candymaker knows much about."
She leaned in conspiratorially, smirking, the tears now dried on her face and took all four of her saviours in. "Not just a back way, suunei," she addressed Oksana. She pointed upwards. "There's a false ventilation shaft on the roof." She twisted and pointed. "See that chimney?" She squinted and wiggled her pointer at it. "It has a ladder. It's their bolt hole and how they move people and small valuables they really don't want people knowing about."
The yasoi woman grinned wickedly. "There'd be nothing more fitting than fucking them right through that damned thing." Her face hardened. "I'd be happy to show you where."
Abdel, before making any decision, actually inspected the proposed passage. “The roof seems like a good shout.” remarked Abdel, his apprehensive gaze toward the woman softening just a little. “That said, if they notice anything, they could just flush you out. I'm not sure it's a good idea if they're actually prepared. That's where any infiltrator would go.”
She shrank back a little and shrugged. "I guess you're right. I just know they use it a lot and they were trapping the doors." She shook her head. "Definitely do nto go in through there."
Niallus considering the options that were laid out for them."Apart from the traps, and the exit, miss. Do you have any idea whats inside?" He asks her.
She nodded. "Well, it changes a lot, but they have a few things: lots of goods, both legal and illegal; weapons stashed about, sleeping areas separated from the rest of it, a safe or two that I was never allowed to even get close to, and..." She trailed off as if she was about to say more, but she noticed Abdel concentrating. "I have my suspicions about the basement, but I wasn't allowed there either."
< Chimney. Maybe. Possible. Safe not sure. Door. Trap. >
Xiuyang, shaken from her giddiness, takes a second to reconsider. Far away from door. Further than enemies. Blow it? she proposes to Abdel. Spring trap, know their numbers. In position to flee if needed.
Acknowledged, she replied. And with that, she fired her kinetic spell right at the door, timed with the movements of the illusion.
Abdel reached out to the downed young Yasoi. A bit of pinching was in order.
< Hello. > <Fine?> <Fine?> <Fine?>
<Help?>
<Hello> came the reply after a moment. <Okay. Help.>
Then, however, there was an explosion, and then another pinch. <HELP.>
Abdel didn't panic. Why would they put their ace in the hole in danger?
< Close. Coming. >
“Something's going awry. We need to draw these people out.” re-affirmed the Tethered, a palm on each animal to pacify their growing gurgliness.
The doors blew in with stunning force, exploding into splinters. The urns shattered and... there was nothing to see but a gust barreling in and then blowing violently back out. The fox-masked woman stood there amid the debris, her cloak flapping in the wind. She stalked forward confidently and it was perfect work, almost enough to make the true Xiuyang proud.
Two hoodlums - a yasoi man with red hair and a woman with short dark hair - coughed and reeled, but the great hulking figure who stood behind them was unbowed. There was a Gargantuan surge of energy, but not much happened aside from a few weak gusts of wind in the area of the apparent Xiuyang. Then, a couple more in the area behind her.
"Right in through the front door, not even an attempt to negotiate," she chided, collecting herself. "I had hoped to be working with professionals."
"Fantas, they're not here to negotiate. They probably don't even have the money." She nodded. "Kill the kid and let's split."
Abdel followed the movements closely. The explosion was not what he had expected, but to hurt and/or kill their only leverage?
There was little time to act. The scrawnier henchman - the one approaching the hostage - was immediately stared down by the tethered's gargantuan gaze.
“Go, now!” he ordered his group. “That big guy's going to cause a problem!”
The big man began gathering energy again for something else huge and it was clear that he was a real danger. Just as he seemed about to unleash it, however, the second yasoi man - the lanky ginger - froze and contorted. For a second, the youth in his kinetic grasp bobbled and began to fall. Then, he stabilized. Perhaps the others didn't know what had caused it or what it was, but it was Abdel and he had bloodwarped his enemy.
Abdel had a metaphysical vicegrip on the unsuspecting Yasoi captor. Not too strong, not too aware. An easy target. His position was kept as it was, thus keeping the poor hostage in the air and on the brink of oblivion.
“I got one under-” there came a deep, foreboding sense of dread that hit him. Trained his was was the ire of the monster he had identitied since they had arrived. He was found so quickly? Amidst all these people? If he let go, it could spell the end of the hostage, too. “Johann, Oksana! Big attack coming our way! I can't let go!” he yelled out, voice slurred from the hurriedness but clear enough, hopefully.
"I can feel the bugger," Johann growled, closing his eyes and reaching out. "Time for him to pick on someone his own size." He grinned maliciously. "Or be picked on."
An immense pillar of lightning blasted clean through the building's roof and struck the hulking figure in the middle. He spasmed and jerked, roaring in annoyance. "Oh ho hooo! Someone big wants to play!" he exclaimed, but Abdel remained in control of the man who remained in control of the hostage as the two giants tussled.
The red-haired yasoi straightened and, seemingly from nowhere, pulled out a pair of odd but wicked looking blades. "For the record, he's a sweet boy and I didn't enjoy any of it." She sighed and drew... and drew... and drew: a classic yasoi intimidation tactic.
Then, however, it was a two-on-one. The woman glanced between her two adversaries, taking stock of matters, and... while Oksana had been up there long enough to sense her massive energy draw, Lunara had not. A huge fiery blast came straight for the Palaparese, catching her cold.
Meanwhile, Niallus would've done anything to be cold, though in a different way. Arduously, pulling in and expelling massive amounts of thermal energy, he carved through the thick ghulthite. He could feel his hair burn away and his skin start to shrivel and peel. At first the pain was incredible, and then it began to fade as nerves died. Yet... bit by bit, he completed his circle and then it wobbled. With a blast of kinetic force, it came flying free. It hurtled across the warehouse and slammed into the opposite wall with such force that it punched a hole clean through. A burned, raging figure emerged, smoke and steam rolling off of his grotesque figure. The outside world beckoned.
"Very well," the manly yasoi woman was replying in another part of the warehouse She ignored Ashon at first before being unable to resist a jibe. "You shall have your... 'son' returned to you safely in five."
Meanwhile, Abdel, maintaining his concentration and slowly retreating out of range, soon found himself more or less out of the fight. It was a lot to maintain his lock on the ginger yasoi, however, and it taxed him to his very limit. Jerking his puppet on invisible chains, he began forcing the man to lower his hostage. Qadira and Dayanara stood guard to either side of him but, then...
Dayanara let out a loud gurgling growl and turned her massive head. Qadira hissed and lowered herself into a ready position. So occupied was Abdel that he could not take the focus necessary to sense what was coming until it was nearly there. Dayanara sprung into action, leaping at the coldfire wyvern while Qadira barreled for the dreadmaw halassa.
"Four..."
Dorothea began to stir, the dread power of Levidan the Accursed dragging her from the depths of unconsciousness and demanding that she take action, that she crush these subhuman nothings that had dared lay her low.
It was at this moment, as the youth was being gently lowered from close to the ceiling, as Johann blasted the huge yasoi through a wall and was, in turn, himself, driven into the ground, that the ground opened up into a thousand needles and a gravitational slam to drive Abdel towards his death.
"Three..."
Seviin rose and gathered her power, filling Ashon and Dory with it. These criminals were not to be trusted. They had wronged Mother Oirase and now they were Lord Exiran's playthings if there was any justice in the world.
It was then that Oksana felt another presence off to the far side of the roof. A tall, elegant man stood there with a thin black rapier in his hand. He flourished it and began walking toward her.
"Two..."
Abdel's one goal was to secure the hostage. Such a goal in such precarious conditions wasn't going to happen without getting one's hands dirty. He knew where this was going to end with thugs wielding too much power. Ever since his contact with those without faces, he was ready to be the one to pull that trigger. Now was the time.
Just as Fantas had brought down the kid as per ordered by the one controlling the puppet strings, a new force had entered the equation.
A wyvern accosted Dayanara while Qadira repulsed a shelled beast with her tail. Beast versus beast.
“Mierda!” swiftly, upon freeing the redhead Yasoi from his merciless grip, he immediately rolled out of the way from the assailant's ambush.
His eyes met with the final enforcer of that dreadful clan. “A lot of effort. A lot of exposure for just a cash grab.” remarked the Tethered teen between hearty breaths for air. “A lot of risk for a brat.”
Beastmaster versus Beastmaster, a showdown not to miss!
Dory's purpose was clear and her aim was true. In, she breathed, and out, and there a bullet flew. And yet, beyond her bubble, where a roiling calm prevailed, on past the perfect focus through which her bullet sailed...
Things were happening.
Unbeknownst to Dory, some three hundred yards away, Abdel, for his survival, had been forced to free his prey. A momentary lapse seized that ginger-haired yasoi. He tremored and wobbled and then released the boy...
Who fell from the sky.
It happened so fast the Gods must've desired it. He fell into the path of the bullet: she'd fired it. Dory had sworn to leave one of them dead. She'd aimed her gun straight for the lesbian's head.
But the shot struck the boy.
For a moment, nobody believed it. For a moment, the shot had surely struck its intended target. Reshta did not play such cruel jokes upon any but those who had earned her personal ire.
"One."
Ashon, Seviin, and Xiuyang were caught off-guard by the shot, for Dory had acted solo. The woman who'd been counting froze, just about to take a step forward. No sooner had the ginger-haired yasoi regained himself than he crumpled.
"Moila!" he screamed. "Dii! Oh Exi, dii!" His hands snapped the sides of his head, ripping at his hair. His sister's eyes widened like dinner plates and she stood there for a moment, frozen.
Then, there came a cold rage.
Niallus, having emerged from his deathtrap panting and snarling and still thinking that he had hair, did a whole lot of nothing but look angry, but he soon had cause to do more. He'd missed the exact details of what had happen, but all watched the boy hit the floor, his impact lessened by the red-haired man's intervention, but would it be any good? Had the bullet intended for his apparent captor done him in?
Niallus didn't get the chance to ruminate on it. Two more thugs appeared from opposite directions. While one was at the other end of the warehouse, and made Dory his direct target, the second sent a wave of hyperdense slicing wind at the Eskandishman from less than a dozen meters away.
The woman let out a shrill kinetically-enhanced whistle that carried through the whole building and even up onto the roof. Then, she and her brother barreled towards Ashon, Xiuyang, and Seviin with everything that they had. If the deal had looked about to go through, it was 'off' now, and the escape was on.
Isolated, all his allies in the frey, leaving him with only his bestial vanguard - a vanguard soon overtaken by the enemy’s own mirrored initiative.
Dayanara and Qadira were locked into battle with creatures. Two earthen dwellers, putted against adversaries from both the heavens and the seas. And there was Abdel, sandwiched between the two conflicts, eyes trained on the conductor of this wild orchestra.
“You’re one of them.” deduced the Tethered upon giving a quick anatomical checkup of the man. Same physical quirks, and more RAS than the average refugee. “You should know this isn’t going to work. Not after this.”
“It doesn’t matter.” spoke the Yasoi man, far more eloquent than any migrant. He had been here for a while, Abdel could tell. “Leave at once, or be killed.” he ordered, calmly.
Abdel shook his head. “The more you fight, the more will fall onto your family. Give up the boy and we’ll leave as if nothing had happened.” Abdel proposed. And just as he was about to add another comment, both he and Pepsii sensed something that deeply disturbed them. Both looked to the warehouse as a gunshot rang through the area.
“Damn it.” Abdel clicked his tongue. “Someone is going to DIE. Is that the goal here?” Abdel threw his arms up in exasperation whilst his beasts repulsed the assailants. A stalemate, for now.
Pepsii’s body language was not one of retreat, however it was not one of pure rage either. This human was garbage - absolutely nothing to trifle over. But with so many humans entering conflict with his family, this would spell the end of their clan. His raison d’être, after losing everything that drove him once before.
“Or we can silence you all.” the man decided as he drew and began to intensify gravity all around his range, and then focused all that power toward Abdel.
The young Tethered, with Pepsii’s answer as his cue, drew the black sword sheathed inside one of Qadira’s backpacks, and wielded it with both hands. Stance clumsy, but his magnetic field more than enough to masterfully govern the weapon, she pointed straight at the Yasoi.
“I’ve faced worse than you.” taunted Abdel, his nerves getting the slight better of him. “At the very least, I’ll keep you back long enough for that whole place to burn.”
Thunderclaps and meteorite crashes collided. The battle to keep Pepsii back from nourishing the Cola forces had begin, with Abdel as the last remaining soldier holding the line.
Pepsii stalked forward, his eyes distant and dead an implacable. “And you would sacrifice your very life for a mere payday?” he responded, barely arching an eyebrow. “You are either contradictory or a bad liar.”
From out of nowhere appeared a curved white blade in one of his hands. “Please move and I shall not harm you, tethered. We have no desire to cause any more pain.” He closed in almost... languidly, the amoutn of energy around him building higher, and higher, and almost crushingly high. "Reach out with those enhanced energy senses of yours and know for truth who shot that boy. We are not your villains."
“I'm not the one who rustled the hornet's nest.” retorted Abdel, just as immovable as the Yasoi. “But I must underline the irony of what you're saying - you wish to stop inflicting pain, yet you've left nothing but pain in your wake.” literal tensions rose in the air. He acknowledged the discrepancy in who shot whom, but it seemed to do little to rattle his stance. “You will release the boy. Do so and we will leave before someone actually gets hurt.”
“Hah!" Pepsii laughed. “How can we release what we don't have?" He shook his head. “Those vaunted senses of yours aren't all they're chalked up to be, I see!" He stopped right at the point of the boy's sword, unimpressed, and stood there for a moment.
It came seemingly from nowhere: the yasoi's sword tripled in size and came down in a wicked combo of slashes. Abdel had sensed the energy buildup, however. He was ready.
Abdel remained steadfast, but the revelation was what he feared: This was all a bluff. His lips twitched and his posture opened up as if he was readying himself for a swing.
But Pepsii was faster. There was no way this untrained swordsman could stop that. What he could do, however, was what he did best - Bloodwarping. Not the whole body, not even a whole limb, just the right muscles that made holding this sword bearable. Enough to break a stance have all that energy misfire. All that so he could retaliate with a simple and very telegraphed upwards swing, from under the hip to overhead, aiming to sever one of the arms.
A fantastic wave of kinetic energy separated the two before the attack could land cleanly, but it left a long, shallow slash down the inside of the yasoi's arm. His sleeve flapped open raggedly and blood trickled from the wound. He glanced at it annoyedly. "Why are you in Mudville, yanii?" He shook his head and spread his arms. The blade disappeared. Instead, surrounding the pair, came dozens more. "Come to police us?" He shook his head angrily as the blades began to rotate rapidly. "For some 'resistance' lickspittle?" He shook his head, throwing his arms out to his side. "You think you're the good guys! How little you know!"
“I don't think I'm anything.” rebuttled an unenthusiastic Abdel, still catching his breath after barely getting chopped himself. His hat had flown away from the immense kinetic blasts, but he still stood at the ready. “My job's to find people, and so I did. You've been in the way of that.” the tethered drew once more, this time to exercise his magnetic field on the rotating blades and proactively prevent the next assault. “Why bother with such a stunt? It was never going to work with a family like that. And for just a lump of money that can be tracked? You should be explaining yourself instead of me.”
"We don't owe you shit, yanii!" The blades whirled, one stabbing in every so often as Pepsii made his move and went to break around the stubborn boy. "After you ruined our home and even before those Tarlonese dirtbloods invaded it, I was here, trying to make this a home for our people: a place close to the mecca of magic, in good faith." A blade sliced across the youth's cheek and another speared him glancingly in the shoulder. "They only ever wanted to use or dismiss us, and all the drug dealers only wanted to keep setting us at each other's throats." He shook his head. "It's simple: we decided to fight the resistance because they were a plague on our land as much as any others, using the Tarlonese invasion to extort what little the rest of us have. It's a losing fucking fight, though. They control the narrative. We're always the badguys so, hey, that's what we've become. They blame us for the kidnapping, why not profit? With this money, I can get out - maybe all of us can. Now you bunch of clueless fucking do-gooders come in here and fuck it all up."
He let out a bitter laugh. "You think you know Talthan and Emenii. You have no idea how fucking evil they are. Now, get the fuck out of my way or I will tear you limb from limb for my family's sake."
Abdel found a moment to reach out and acknowledge the situation. The boy had been secured by Xiuyang.
“I did not do anything to your people.” corrected the tethered, each jab from the blades barely deflected by a mixture of his ferromagnetic matery and his robust sword. “You distinguish the grifters of your kind from others, yet cannot distinguish a Tethered from the humans in power. You are a hypocrite and a clown. It's no wonder we're all here.” he stood his ground out of pettiness, almost.
“But I'm no fool. I will let you pass.” his blade was lowered, just a little. “But under two conditions. You give your word that you'll stay away from my colleagues.” dark eyes stared right into the eldest Cola's. “And you tell me about this set-up. If the resistance is the architect of this whole shebang, then my job isn't finished. Answer me, and this hiccup can go away.”
"I have vanishingly little interest in your colleagues, though your tone has..." For a moment, something infinitely cruel - Juulet-like - danced behind his eyes, but then it disappeared and there was a sort of weariness. "We think the resistance has him. He's one of those idiot rich kid sympathizers - I'm sure his parents love it - who willingly went to them, spawning darklings for the junkies all the way." Pepsii shook his head. "They have him and they've foisted the blame on us so some more rich idiots from the White Walls come and squash us and they can run this place unchallenged. Congrats. Now get the fuck out of my way before I put you on two, boy." Without any more than a tilt of the yasoi's head, all of the blades pulled back, hovering threateningly around Abdel.
Abdel resisted the urge to maintain the confrontation. This man played the victim, but was as guilty as any other grifting organization with how he and his family treated others. That urge was as wicked as that glint in Pepsii's eyes. Still, he stepped aside, and almost simultaneously, the Skuggvars retreated with a more submissive demeanor. “Hey, fuck you too, guy.” arms crossed, the eldest Cola was granted passage. “Screw me, and I'll start with that scrawny ginger.” he warned.
Pepsii had already started moving, their hostilities at an end. His two beasts, just a bit worse for wear, began to follow. Then came Abdel's words, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't turn. Instead, his voice was low and cold and hard. "You wanna repeat that, boy?"
He drew a supernova of energy.
“You heard me.” repeated Abdel with words oozing with venom. “Screw with my people, I'll screw with yours. That's how your kind operates, right? Leverage, usually under the form of a close one?” he matched the Cola's show of power, albeit far less spectacular than the Yasoi's. “Feels terrible, doesn't it?” he nudged his head to the side. “Go save them before they get themselves killed. Instead of trying to impress me.”
"You are a true mage of Ersand'Enise." He shook his head and jetted away. The swords, no longer held apart, raced toward the magnetically-charged Abdel.
Abdel sneered. Arms crossed before his form in a defensive formation, he focused his magnetic field into just a couple of metres around him. Concentrated and palpably electrifying, the majority were deviated, but not quite deflected. He was left with a matching cut to what he had given to Pepsii. “I've a feeling you are intimately familiar with such a mage.” he remarked, his energy devoted to healing that minor slice.
Xiuyang backed away, severely battered and burned, frightened by the power that reminded her of the dragons in ReTan. She would not stop the behemoth of a man from burying his sister. She had the money, and had been attacked and tricked multiple times. Feeling like a target, she moved to the outer edge of the conflict. She rushed to Abdel's side and whispered to him in hushed tone. She didn't bother to play up the accent—he knew who she was. "The hostage was another Cola brother. Before he tried to kill me, he confessed strange things to me. We might be able to find Jaxan, but I don't want her with us. How do we lose her?" She gestured towards Dorothea as she slowly patched what she could of her burns.
Abdel was still healing his lacerated flank and arm when Xiuyang had joined him. Ever the vigilant Tethered, once the big distraction named Pepsii was gone, he could piece together the current mess his senses gathered. Most notably the wicked and dense magic, one he had learned or at least a year now to be dark magic, was sicked upon one of the hooligans.
“The eldest pinned it on the resistance.” answered Abdel without the trouble of hushing up. They were very much at the edge of the battlefield, and the sounds of war caught most outliers' attentions. “Did you hear something similar?” once his wound healed and his plain apparel knitted back together, he peered the Rettanese-Revidian's way. “If so, we could gather those we need and leave while this bordello solves itself.” he figured, nonchalant to the chaos unfolding.
But then he let a half-hearted chuckle escape him. “What troubles you so much about her?” he did not seem amused, but instead pensive - a true pokerface barring the force smile when speaking. “A monster might be what we need to deal with other unsavory creatures.” once again, his eyes were made to meet Salomé's. “Would you save this woman that caused you grief if you could?”
The Skuggvars were there, Abdel was ready, they could leave right now if they so wished. But he seemed more interested in knowing Xiuyang's position in all of this.
It was Seviin who interrupted him, however. "I would. It is not ours to decide who lives and who dies, merely to respond as we are treated." Her hands found his side and sped up his healing until the wounds were gone. "She was a bad a person, but nobody deserves this fate, ever."
There was still Xiuyang left, and Seviin hesitated for a moment, uncertainty in her eyes. Then, she reached for the Retanese as she had the others. "I will answer your question, Xiuyang Solari," she replied beatifically, but her hands trembled as she spoke. "The only way is death." Soothing energies worked their way through Xiuyang's body after those words. Did they feel any different than they should have?
"Yes, he said the same thing to me. From the sound of things... in the worst case, they may be... keeping him as an aberration generator." She squirmed at the notion. "We may need monsters, perhaps, but dark magic? ...I hate it," she confessed. "I've seen the VOID. Its secrets should be buried," she insisted, as one who had been swallowed by it during the Trials surely would.
She turned to look at what was left of the girl who, like her, had tried to play ringleader and paid the price. "She dealt dishonestly at every turn. I was going to give her the money, forge an escape route for them if that wasn't enough of a bargaining chip. I had a ship ready and everything. I showed her far more kindness than she deserved... but even she doesn't deserve this fate, Abdel. All of us are good people, some with a few issues... but that woman is different. Can you not feel it? How she hates the yasoi, and takes shots at the vulnerable and fleeing."
Then, there was Seviin, healing what Xiuyang could not herself. From the beginning, the preachy girl had been more useful than the pragmatic Rettanese expected her to be. Rather, had she been even the slightest bit preachy since this whole ordeal had started? Her presence had become almost soothing, even... ...and then, there was what she said. Xiuyang's blood turned a bit cold. She glanced at Abdel to see his reaction. "We... It's not that simple a matter. What are you suggesting?" she replied, still whispering. Her eyes were locked on to Seviin's, inquisitive, but not judging.
Seviin shook her head sadly. "Mother Oirase brings us all into the world with love." The burned faded from Xiuyang's skin. Surely, she'd have been able to heal these wounds herself, but the act of having another do it - another care for you - was somehow a better thing. "I am not saying that we should kill her, but for the way that she is, death is the only cure." She pulled her hands back and wiped a single small tear from her cheek, straightening. "That is the Gods-honest truth." She tilted her head in consideration. "For now, we must be a united front, not violent, but drawing a line against such abomination." She looked meaningfully at Abdel.
"...Right," she offered, unnerved all the same. Perhaps it was her own family's legacy, her own darker nature at play, but she could have sworn that it seemed as if Seviin wanted her to arrange for Dorothea's "accidental" death, somehow. Perhaps she was fishing for some trick Xiuyang may have had up her sleeve... and in truth, she had two more cards to play, but now didn't seem to be the time to lay them on the table. This entire venture with the Colas appeared to be a waste of time and effort, and it was time to end it. "Thank you," she hastily added. "I mean it."
"But your assurances do not reach your eyes," Seviin replied sadly. "I am sorry."
Many appeals to emotion, some reasonable, some Abdel took issue with. Seviin's intervention was sweetened with her thoughtful assistance in the healing process, but sentimentality wasn't something this young man was going to afford.
That said, the binary nature of their options didn't sit well with him. “She is a problem, but not one we should necessarily direct toward us. If anything, despite the alienation, this has been to our benefit.” he looked at the carnage that was happening, and chaos and destruction. “Well, sort of. Still, I'm of the mind that we finish this job and don't get on her bad side. Keep her as a boon.” very utilitarian of him, but the concern in his expression he tried hard, and failed, to keep cool sold out his own anxieties.
“As for the Cola woman ...” she sighed, annoyed at the fact that what he was going to propose may very well complicate everything. But, alas, Seviin's approach to thing left him feeling as though he owed some humanity to the moment. “We do have experts on the subject in our current cohort, do we not? The short ones from the desert. If anyone can rectify VOID-bound issues, it could be them.”
It was there that he sensed Dory execution. His gaze grew hollow.
“... Nevermind.”
Xiuyang's eyes widened, taken aback. "No, really! I know you care, and I trust your judgment. It's just... showing sincerity is hard, for me. No one trusts a Revidian, or a Rettanese." As if to prove her point, her eyes involuntarily averted themselves. "...Jamboi needs my help," she said hastily, taking off.
"As you say, Abdel Varga." Xiuyang had darted off, afraid of Shiin's truth, and it was the two of them alone. She watched him for an extended moment as Dory sliced the beast's head off, before turning to regard the developing situation there. She had no further words for him.
Location: Zengali - Mezegol Day of the week: Victendes Time: Evening Characters: Zarina, Biby, Horus, The Blue Beauty, Ayla, Taleja @Ti, Vuvu @dragonpiece, Leon @Jumbus
Like an orange blur, dusk had passed and made way for the clear, starry skies of Severa. Before she could regain some lucidity, Zarina found herself gawking at the burial ceremonies from afar, shoulder leaned against a tree and overall looking mightily suspicious. How did she get here? The details of it she could hardly recall, like a routine she had done a thousand times. But she was there, body restored but mind not quite whole.
Widows cried, men lost their bravado and children stayed strong from their hurting, singular parents if they didn’t join the mothers in anguish. It was like any other funeral, with the themes of the sea not unknown to the coastal girl. She owed it to the men that had lost their lives to be there, but she did not have the courage to, as an outsider, impose herself as the one who couldn’t have done more. She knew they wouldn’t see it that way, but it was a good excuse to save herself some more grief.
A smart decision, she had come to find, as all this time lost to an ailing mind had produced a most curious fruit, still fresh in the mind and intangible - begging to be made real. Inspired, and with the sounds of celebration in the horizon, Zarina had a mission.
One blue chicken. Twenty seven contestants. One Virangish. One little Hippoboi. One shadow.
Zarina stood among veterans and savvy locals, a fish quite literally out of water with a strange animal in her bag. In an act that resembled a certain degree of self-consciousness, she left the bag onto one of the many tables used by the people to share the many feasts shared for the event. There was a conspicuous bump inside of it.
“Winner gets the chicken?” she inquired with a lazy index finger pointed at the animal’s cage.
"That is right missy! But she is a favourite this year. Will you be bringing a team?" the young host inquired with immeasurable cheekiness.
Zarina shrugged. “I don’t think so, no.” her gold hues brushed through the many that had now taken the role of gawkers. “More glory alone, right?”
A wave of chuckles and snickers resonated in response.
"Courageous! You are taking the true gauntlet. Know you will have to do so without magic. Are you still ready?"
“Hmm? Oh yeah, sure.”
The other contesting didn’t stop in their condescension.
“Delusional foreigners again, the thresher has them all worked up up there.”
“Brave girl, heh heh.”
“Laugh all you want, we still have all these fools to deal with.”
Before long, they were all set to begin the game. Once the shot was fired and the panicked chicken unleashed, all sprinted, including Zarina. She was going to play the game like anyone else, there was no doubt about it.
Many frontliners already met some unfortunate accidents with their overzealous efforts to catch the unusually swift and rowdy avian. A couple already gave up after feeling the pressure from the over two dozen men and women. Zarina, looking to still be in some zoned-out state, simply stayed with the peloton. None had gotten too close yet. Not until a good six or so had blown off the event in favour of another opportunity opening.
The fat had been trimmed a little. And then the first incident occurred. A young and athletic woman just … Didn’t feel all that energetic anymore. Like she hadn’t slept all night. She nearly tripped! Eyelids heavy and calves a tad number, she opted to sit out. The same happened to some of the more aggressive runners.
Soon enough, Zarina was one of the more invested players by simply remaining content with her job. The mages sensed no real drawing from her form, or any participant either.
They were like flies. Eventually, only a few not-so-threatening obstacles remained, and of course the chicken. The lazulite avian she was keen on saving - none could doubt her reasons, as a Darhannic. Given that a few of the drowsy and worn out contestants were also aligned with such a goal, suspicion had no real direction. The chicken faltered too, barely able to flap its wings and scratch an unburdened Zarina from gently sweeping it into her arms in a maner that it quickly found a desire to roost.
A winner, one that many were unsure to celebrate for. Well, the contestants anyway, but the cheers of the audience that had been paying as much attention to their meals, ware and other events as the competition itself wailed with their vuvuzelas.
Chicken secured, back into a cage for the Virangish to claim. So too was another avian - a black one that had been hopping from rooftop to rooftop with a little something in its unusually dextrous wings.
"Zazzy Zazzy! I follow! FOLLOW!" rapid nods came from the pitch black monkeybird holding none other than Biby.
“You did a very good job, Horus.” praised the mildly content owner. Biby, on the other hand, was antsy and quickly hopped back into his portable bag-home, while Horus was allowed to visit a few colourful things before being brought back home for bedtime.
Zarina’s grand revelation brought her to the next destination: Vuvu. Few foreigners found value in these obnoxiously loud instruments. The Virangish was no different. But there was something they were good at: Being loud and far reaching.
A sack full of magi was dropped before the Vuvuzela queen. It prompted a curious set of blinks from the woman. Nearly a hundred of these coins! For vuvuzelas?!
"M-miss!" the great Vuvu, said to be quite the terror, was caught off guard. "If it is a joke, it is of bad taste! After a funeral, Stagfulaizah ahidi …"
“Not a joke.” said the teen with the regally blue chicken still in a cage held in one hand and a hipped sticking out of her bag over the opposite shoulder. She smiled. “I want as many as you can offer. And a carpenter. I definitely need a carpenter.” the way she talked, one would think monotone, but it was more so overly casual for the situation. Crazy was one’s first conclusion. Was this why so many had died?
Vuvu furrowed her eyebrows. "No. I don’t trust this money." she waved in dismissal.
“Why?” a confused Zarina tilted her head.
"It’s suspicious, and I have a reputation to maintain! What if others want a treasure from Vuvu? Eh? Today is not a day for greed."
“Vuvu.” Zarina spoke after a brief pause. “You will be the hero of Zengali. I know you will. Your Vuvuzelas are the key.” she spoke with conviction and a completely unflinching expression. “I need at least twenty. And-”
A finger rose for Vuvu to stand by and then it reached for the inside of her top - a leather jacket that resembled what many other sailors wore. Out came a black scale - or rather a fragment of one. One of a kind, unlike any dragon scale one had seen before, and Zengali had its fair share of exotic animal imports.
"Is this to, as they say, sweeten the deal?" a sceptical Vuvu regarded Zarina, wary.
“No. It’s my bail for your treasure.” the item was posed right by the bag for the woman to claim. “I will return it. You can keep my treasure.” a more expression look came to be, one that pleaded.
Vuvu reflected for a moment. What did she truly have to lose?
What is your favorite color? Silver. Do you prefer Silk or Cotton? Silk. If you could go on a date, would you prefer a lovely gondola ride while being serenaded by your lover or a simple seaside dinner under the light of the 5 moons? Seaside Gondola. Favorite part of yourself? My Eyes What must your partner have? Tenacity. And Humour. Available or closed? Closed right now. Even or odd? Even. Favorite fruit? Date. Valleys or Mountains? I like both. But Mountains. Lor or moons? And if moons, how many? Moons. Until Oraff blesses me.
A questionnaire was given, but attention was diverted to the sheer mass of popularity the Mbita and Chika service had garnered. Slow business, but good business. However, Zarina did not have all night. A breather was perhaps not the worst idea, and the fabric she was about to propose was going to be tactically used to usurp some attention.
Then appeared familiar faces. A blonde girl, one she had far too much fondness for despite the glaring flaws and warning signs. A distraction. A deterrent. And then there was another blonde, this one a man. A ghost, she felt almost. How? She did not know. Was she growing delusional? Was all this just some massive daze? Or did she die from the thresher attack?
The fabric initiative had to be delayed. A disruption in her unusually smooth plan. Where to next?
The chicken woke up. She could not think. A break was in order - an excuse to go back to her group’s retreat. There, she’d find Taleja, and ensure the cup had fallen into her scholastic hands. From there, the intellectual of the group could reinforce her theory. But the night was not over. There remained one more step to her operation.
For an established socialite and rumoured dancer, Zarina failed to deliver any sort of notable performance. The festival raged with energy and she partook enough to avoid ringing any concerning looks, but there was little excitement in this one's spirit. Monotone and distracted. Anxious, even. Information on the recent incident had spread with the memorial ceremony she felt obligated to attend. It was no surprise that, once she had found the boisterous Sun King between tents, hidden in plain sight, she lacked the distinct excitement many others were keen on showing off before the big day.
“On a scale of one to that Enthish girl you brought over, how anxious has tomorrow really got you?” was her opening, a clumsy attempt at humour. Clumsy due to the poorly veiled fact that it was actually genuine. “I'm not feeling any of it.” she confessed, arms crossed and handbag slightly squeezed to her side. Inside rested a hippo that curiously studied the performer's demeanour. Uninteresting, it concluded, a total lack of yum. It hid back in to nap.
“I'm not quite sure what to do once we actually do the job, either.” and with this second confession, a blue ribbon wrapped around her index finger emerged from her hand that had been previously tucked inside her elbow. “I've asked Ayla to join us, if you don't mind.”
Leon practically frolicked up to Zarina still buzzing off the night's events. "Zarina, I would pick 0. But I don't believe that was an option." It was an exaggeration but not entirely untrue. The actual threat of the Thresher was the furthest thing from his mind, a confidence fueled by lacking knowledge.
He extended a hand to offer Zarina to dance but she retracted a little. It was then he took noticed of her crossed arms and reserved posture, then difference between them was night and day. Leon knew Zarina to be strong of both ability and will, so whatever had got her like this was not to be ignored. His expression turned to concern for a friend.
He considered asking if she was alright, but she spoke with direction, he didn't want to deter her from it for now. "Of course I don't mind. It sounds like we three have a lot to discuss."
Ayla approached and wrapped her arms around Zarina, giving her tall friend a hug. “So, you are our big bad competition, eh?” she teased. “The amount of factional one-upmanship when we all share the same goal is ridiculous. How are they going to determine if it’s a Sovereign Pact cannonball or a Central Alliance one that scored the killing blow? And ultimately, does it even matter if the threat has been dealt with?”
She sighed and looked at the pair. “Enough of my ramblings. What is the goal of our discussion?”
Abdel, Dayanara, Qadira, Niallus, Oksana, Johann, the Yasoi 'Victims'
Abdel was on the literal scent of the finger's owner with both Dayanara and Qadira eagerly bobbing their heads up high to capture the fine traces of the unique stench just a few evaporated droplets could make. Although in truth they were using a combination of their advance snout and magic to make all this possible. A stop at the pseudo-pizza seller did not deter them, with Qadira growing ever more vigorous while Dayanara seemed completely but off by the treat.
The trail had led them to a better part of the town. Appearances mattered little to Abdel for the most sinister of people he had met were those that faded so easily in the crowds. The Skuggvars were growing restless, gurgling intensely at one house in particular. “Qadira.” he called out as he tossed a slice of pizza to pacify her for a moment while Dayanara's digestion issue siphoned her zeal quickly. “No doubt about it, the owner's in there.” he confirmed, arms crossed with his sharpened senses reaching into the building. “Found him. There are a few others inside, but ...” he bit his lip. “They don't seem like the typical thugs or even prepared for something like this.”
The Tethered pondered for a brief moment. “Trap or not, we have a lead.” he looked toward Oksana. “You're fast. Would you get ready to intercept in case they tried to flee from the back?” then, he focused on Johann with an expectant look and a mild smile. “I'd rather not bring the Skuggvars close to their doors. But an intimidating yet charming presence could help a skinny guy like me make an impression.” then finally he shot a glance at Niallus. “Niallus, ask the neighbors if they saw anything. You're friendly enough. Right?”
With a plan set after some input from the others, Abdel approached the door while the animals remained tethered a good few metres away and knocked.
Following the Skugvars to the destination. Passing through crowds that gave a wide berth, mostly so they did provoke the Skugvars. Conversations between people would pause, as they walked past then would continue once more. The merchant selling their trade, still continued. “I have some excellent wares if you fine, group of people interested in?” Niallus ignored what the merchant was selling, besides it was more likely to have been looted off some corpses during the revolution that happened a week ago.
The group decided to take a little stop to get something that was called, Buudvuud. Niallus had never had this before but from the aroma that it was emitting, it was worth a try. Niallus was the last of the group to order his Buudvuud. While thinking about what to have he asked the worker something simple. Face to face with this zit filled teenager. "Being the owner, you see a lot of interesting things here in the area?" the kid arched an eyebrow at the Eskands question. “Me? I'm not the owner.” His voice was nasally and drone. “I wasn't even supposed to work today.” His voice, getting a little annoyed about it. “The owner's younger brother was supposed to be in today, but he suddenly took a vacation, so the owner made me come in.”
The kid went back to Niallus’ question about anything interesting, he tilted his head. “What do you mean by anything interesting?” "Oh, It's just because I'm not from around here, that's all." letting out a warm smile. "Just wanted some insight of what to expect in this area and what to steer clear of. I don't want to cause trouble with my first visit." letting out a light chuckle. In response to the worker's answer, about him complaining about work. " Damn that sucks, so they've done this multiple times? Do you know the reason why?" The Kid started to get nervous as he quickly changed the subject “Are you going to order a Buudvuud or not?” [10:07 PM] Not wanting to push the matter, Niallus went back to ordering his Buudvuud. "Yes, sorry." Looking through, "I'll order that one." ordering the spicy one. As Niallus paid for his order he slipped a magnus to him, "That's to keep our conversation secret. Ok?" He quickly took and hid it on his person.
After a nice stop for food, even if Niallus’ Buudvuud was spicy. "Gods above, my mouth is on fire." walking through the residential area following the Skugvars. Some locals glared at Niallus and the group, he gave them a little wave, they stuck their middle finger up at him in return. "Charming…" He mumbled.
The group came to a stop at this house, "Why does this one look more run down than the others around?" He wondered. His attention went to Abdel as he asked him to talk to the neighbours. "Sure." He said walking off to one of the houses that was next to the one Abdel and Johann. Standing in front of the door, Niallus gave it a knock, before pausing. "Hello?" "Anyone home?"
Johann visibly swallowed. "Ah, yes, of course!" The hefty lad composed himself, straightened his collar, and knocked. He stepped back, lips pressed together in a smile, and waited.
And waited.
... and waited.
Clearing his throat again, he knocked a second time, more firmly, and reached out with his senses. "There are certainly people inside," he murmured, glancing at his peers amid the lack of response. "Surely we must either leave soon or else force the issue." He raised his hand to knock a third and final time.
Meanwhile, Niallus had encountered a bit more luck next door. A small human woman with a handful of grey streaks in her brown hair opened up. Immediately, she turned and peered over at what was happening in front of her neighbours' house, visibly recoiling at the sight of the dual hulking forms of the skuggvars there. "I should say, sir, if you're after them, then be after them, not my family."
She went to close the door, but his fingers were in the frame. Who could say if it was strategic. Immediately, he jerked his hand back, hissing in pain, and she was forced, by the rules of manners and decorum, to desist. "Now you've gone and gotten your fingers caught in my door," she huffed. "What is it, then? What do you wish to know? Those yasoi next door, they've only been here for a year and they've brought all sorts of trouble to this neighbourhood. I prefer to keep my nose out of it, you must understand." She shook her head. "Safer that way." She glanced anxiously back at the other door, just as matters there seemed about to transition.
Johann used magic to amplify his third knock, but none to give it additional strength. Nonetheless, it rattled the entire frame such that the door heaved on its hinges. "Huh. Don't know my own strength," the big fellow muttered and, behind him, the skuggvars gurgled and groaned in growing impatience, Dayanara sticking her snout right up against the door. Qadira let out something of a howl, though it was just as much a 'toot'.
From inside came movement, and raised voices in a yasoi tongue. Oksana moved into position expertly. Niallus and the neighbour he was speaking to looked over. Johann took a step back and started sneakily drawing energy. He was not alone in this pursuit.
Then, all at once, it opened. A tall, blonde yasoi woman, equal to the Kerreman in height, flung the door open. "You go my house!" she shouted in heavily-accented Avincian, gesturing angrily. "Have a two big animal." She drew back momentarily at the sight of the skuggvars, but seemed to recover quickly. "We..." She trailed off, struggling for a word, before scrunching her face up and mimicking a sleep gesture. "Sem'ayiir saluuv. You... taisuum we." She shook her head.
"Suuluun, ma'am, but this is important. Is there somebody - uh, yr soi - missing a finger - yr tic - here?" Johann gestured the cutting of a finger.
She straightened, radiating fear but also anger. "Yes! My man moila." She glared. "Selex duul... work. Now you go!" she demanded. "You go! Bad people. Aly jam'siin! Joixa ya'eth jam'siin. Nexa yaniixa! Pah! Nax vei joixa wiip suum poiret yr thiilo a'loi Sensii'lii pari!" It all came out rapid-fire in Mycormish, and there was a sense of frustration and disdain that was difficult to miss. She stood there, scowling, looking them up and down, and gestured for them to leave.
Johann turned to the others. "She is endeavouring to camouflage some matter," he announced in language that would fly above her head. "I am disinclined to acquiesce to her request."
Oksana found herself pairing up with Captain Skugvaar who had a finger on the pulse of the investigation, along with Little Johann, and Niallus Scarlet, accompanied by the two swamp dragons. Unable to pronounce their names, she settled on the merry monikers of Masha and Misha.
Deciding to keep her distance from the group, Oksana reasoned hanging back made sense as it made her look inconspicuous, rather than accompanying them directly as part of a motley crew. Besides, she could easily keep track of them, as they stood out like sore thumbs like this, with many people giving them a wide berth. Opting for a natural approach to gathering information, she engaged in routine inquiries while sought property in the area.
Her first stop was the Buudvuud restaurant. The aroma of the food assaulted her senses as she looked hungrily through the shutters at the wide selection before her. Her eyes settled on a juicy, cheese-filled parcel topped with melted cheese, oogling how the strands of between the slices stretched like long thin strings. The appearance and the smell definitely beat anything from Vossoriya as she bartered with the teen behind the counter using the Cheburashka Jamboi method of diligently counting out bennies in a slow manner until he was satisfied with the amount. Taking her prize, she eagerly took a big bite, only to find her mouth filled with steaming hot cheese, almost scalding herself if she hadn’t quickly drawn back. She blew gently on it as she devoured it outside the shop.
While eating, she noticed others looking in her direction, speaking in hushed tones. Originally thought it was about her, but soon realized they were addressing the shop. Approaching a nearby couple, she inquired about the food. Though not understanding their gestures entirely, she gathered that the shop was deemed unsavory. It seemed to be a bad place with bad people. Despite the service being decent, the teen boy was that not terrible, only greasy looking, she asked if there were alternative places she could visit in the future, but there was no such luck as they muttered something and left. It seemed this particular establishment had a monopoly on tasty cheesy slices.
Continuing her inquiries, Oksana asked about the local area, focusing on important details like whose palms needed greasing and who and where to watch out for. She encountered varying responses, from quiet reluctance to share information, to attempts to extract wealth from her. Some were stubborn in their stance, others were eager to express their opinions to an audience. A lot of locals expressed sentiments against refugees, a sentiment she had encountered before in her past, but noted they made it clear that she was more welcome than others, with comments like ‘knife-ears’ presumably directed at Yasoi. When attempting to speak to the yasoi, she found them less understanding and suspicious, but managed to tease out some names to watch out for due to recent negative experienced. A big player was the Rollers, a group of Yasoi who made a lot of dough, and renown for their beatings. With the indicated hand gestures, she assumed the name came from their rolling pins used in baking. They seemed to have a connection with a group called the Paws, a group of human animal lovers who behaved similarly to their namesake, known for being woof in their dealings. Across town, there were the Boozers, known for frequenting beer halls and causing trouble as they grew rowdy due to alcohol.
She discovered that the Flying Lion had a notorious reputation for various incidents recently, finding herself surprised as she couldn't recall any disturbances outside of her own bedroom whilst she stayed at the tavern. Delving deeper, she uncovered that the establishment had undergone a transformation, previously known as the Crying Lion before being acquired by the Arslan-Mercador company. Intriguingly, the confusion was because locals had taken it upon themselves to repurpose horse stables near the port, laying the stonewalls as a foundation for a new establishment painted in goluboy hues, aptly named the Cryin’ Cyan. Its proximity to the port allowed it to serve as a hub for backdoor activities, including under-the-table jobs and smuggling. It was also a hotbed of political activism amongst the yasoi, with some striving to amass funds to topple Tarlonese dominance, whilst those on the bottom rungs of society were only out for themselves.
During her investigation, Oksana was surprised to hear talk of Penny, her one-legged friend, as her incident during Mano e Mano challenge has led to urban myths that she is rumoured to be making visits to Belleville, allegedly for summoning aberrations over the town, including a recent large one at the tavern.
Eventually, she caught up with the others after receiving a tethered tug signal from Captain Skugvaar. They surrounded a property where the owner of the missing finger was located. Oksana suggested she could knock on the door with the finger and offer to bind it back on the hand, though her idea was not popular with the others. Instead, she was sent around the back of the building and to blend in, with the goal to catch any escapees by surprise. She followed the instructions, leaving negotiations to the experts in the motley crew.
Oksana, who had snuck around back of the property, was left with little to do but track the movements of the people inside through their energy signatures. Presently, however, she noticed a small silhouette appear in one of the windows. It was a child - a rather cross-looking child. She sat by the window pouting with her arms crossed until she noticed Oksana out there. Her eyes widened in fear and she appeared about to bolt.
Oksana didn't catch what the girl said, but she noticed the sadness reflected in her frosty expression. Offering a sympathetic smile, Oksana returned her focus to her task. She employed a touch of binding magic on the shrubbery, coaxing it to sprout little offshoots which she deftly snapped off with a pinch of kinetic magic. Using these, she began crafting a miniature home for the elk, fashioning the offshoots into trees and using frost to mimic the appearance of snow. As the elements came together, she created a charming scene. "My home," she said softly, gesturing proudly to the completed display.
The child was enraptured, watching Oksana build. "Wow, you're really good at magic." She tilted her head admiringly, holding back a question. "I guess you're from a really cold place." She blinked. "Do you go to Ersandenize?"
After pulling his hand away after it was trapped in the door. His pinky and the one next to it, started to swell. trying to move them hurt. His temper started to build, but he remained calm as he had a job to do. Taking a deep breath to calm down. Listening to what the woman had to say.
The pain in his fingers was still there but he didn't let it get to him. Then the door at the house the Skugvars led them opened. Looking at a Yasoi woman that stepped out, speaking in her Yasoi tongue. He tried to understand what she was trying to say. There was a moment when she mentioned something to do with the missing a finger. He leaned back to the woman who trapped his fingers "Has there been any other people who came knocking at their door recently?" He whispered. It was worth to ask.
Meanwhile, one door over, the neighbour who Niallus was speaking with snorted. "She's full of... garbage, you know." She shook her head judgmentally. "They made some deal with the knife-ear mafia and brought crime to our neighbourhood. Nobody likes them. We try not to show it in front of little Lalo." She pursed her lips. "She's a sweet girl. We'll see how long it takes before she becomes like the rest of them." She shook her head again, ruefully. "Awful business."
Listening to what the woman had to say, mostly about what they've done. The thing that piqued his interest, the Yasoi Mafia. "Well that explains the outside appearance of the house." He said with a low tone. He crossed his arms on his chest, catching his bruised finger, causing him to wince in pain.
There were a few other questions that Niallus wanted to ask her, turning his head back to the woman. Who was making her way back into her home. "I have one thing to say." He kept close to the door, not putting his fingers on the door in case she slammed it once more. "While it's good that you and the other neighbours are doing for the girl is sweet." "As for the rest of them. They probably have their reasons for that deal." Niallus wondered if he was being a little naive with where he was going with this, but still.
"Sometimes families do the wrong things, for the right reasons. Their reason could be for that little girl." ”I'd have done the same if I was in their situation, wouldn't you?" He simply asks before leaving, to stand with the others. "Johann, do think you can fix my fingers?"
It was at this moment that Abdel cursed the split they had decided upon. Tunnel-visioned by the easy trail he had found, he did not point out such an obvious flaw. They did not have a Yasoi, or at least some sort of translator. This already started off badly. He pursed his lips as his eyes met Johann's, and then he stepped forward.
“Oira suunei!” the teen had done his best to imitate Ashon or one of those Tarlonese visitors. Along with a smile that fit well with his still not quite matured face, what could go wrong? “Uhhh, suuluun suuluun,” he waved his hands at the direction of the Skuggvars, directly telling them to back off a tad. “For protection and to help find your man.” he nodded at both her and his King-sized accomplice. “Not bad! Want to help you.” with that he made a gesture to best indicate a finger coming back into place, started with the severing and then the reversal of the act.
Abdel's grin widened just a little. “Help ALL of you. We are good people. And we find the very bad people.”
The woman narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "I... thank you help." Her bearing was defensive and suspicious. Those standing closest to the door might've seen a young girl - perhaps eight or nine years old - peer curiously down from the stairs to the second floor. "No bad people. My man moila -"
"Uncle Harlan!" interjected the child's voice, and the woman whirled. "He got his finger -"
"Lalomen, tuu'yaasa! Senii!"
She turned back to them as the girl gave a sour look and rolled her eyes, making a show of trudging up the stairs slowly. "He... hurt in work. No bad people."
Meanwhile, one door over, the neighbour who Niallus was speaking with snorted. "She's full of... garbage, you know." She shook her head judgmentally. "They made some deal with the knife-ear mafia and brought crime to our neighbourhood. Nobody likes them. We try not to show it in front of little Lalo." She pursed her lips. "She's a sweet girl. We'll see how long it takes before she becomes like the rest of them." She shook her head again, ruefully. "Awful business."
Oksana, who had snuck around back of the property, was left with little to do but track the movements of the people inside through their energy signatures. Presently, however, she noticed a small silhouette appear in one of the windows. It was a child - a rather cross-looking child. She sat by the window pouting with her arms crossed until she noticed Oksana out there. Her eyes widened in fear and she appeared about to bolt.
Abdel shot a jolly smile at the child. It seemed there was at least someone who could communicate. “No bad people. Yes.” he gestured in a pacifying manner and mirrored the woman's broken Avincian as a means to level with her and keep things simple. “We good. We help good people.” he nodded before turning his head toward Johann. “You've got the finger, right? We could get that Seviin girl to treat the uncle. She's a cut above us with those magics.” he uttered with proper intonation and speed that would have been hard for the foreigner to fully grasp.
“We fix your brother-in-law,” he made sure to utter every syllable as to put an end to the broken 'man moila' phrase. “no pay. No money. Only talk. Okay?”
"You... wex'duuz he finger?" (1) She narrowed her eyes in both curiosity and wariness. "You no have this. How you do?"
"I could tell them what you saaaayyy!" came an insistent little voice from somewhere else in the house. "But you won't let me!"
Whatever else might've been said in the background was lost when, suddenly, there was a man at the door. "My daughter," he grunted in heavily-accented Avincian. "Spoil, I think you say. You here about my brother, yes," he continued. "He lose the finger at work. You are binder?" He looked them up and down. "Why binder have skuugvar two?"
Johann glanced over at Abdel as if to say, "Should I?" It was clear only by context that he was speaking of the finger, and pulling it out.
“To find the owner of the finger.” answered Abdel as cordial as he could after patiently waiting for the family to get itself in order. He did not insist on having the best speaker among the family to step up - he knew better than to put kids in such positions. “And protection. We're not oblivious to the interests that prowl these streets, sir.” hands behind his back, the teen kept himself stiff and proper whilst his sharpened senses frisked the minute details of his surroundings. Did anything appear unusual beyond the family's secrecy?
“That said, the longer we wait, the harder the work would be. And our best binder can only do so much.” he shrugged his shoulders whilst Dayanara grunted in growing impatience. “As promised, we don't expect monetary or material payment.” his head then turned to the unit of a man by him and shook his head. 'Not yet.' he mouthed. He did not want to risk spooking them just yet.
Both Skuggvars began to bob their heads and flemming at the intense smell they had been tracking all along once the 'uncle' had shown himself. Abdel took a quick look at the hand and then gestured for the other, healthy one to show itself too. In the meantime, he also nodded toward Johann to show the finger in order to compare it to the remaining counterpart. With a match, they would have confirmation of what they were looking for. “Doing our job.” he answered frankly to the complying Yasoi man.
“Someone is missing - a young Yasoi man.” he added. “And your finger was used as proof of a kidnapping.” Abdel spoke solemnly and lowly, as to not alert the children or cause a scene. “Tell me where the young man is and we'll not only forget all of this, but we will help with your finger as we said. Otherwise, you're now an accessory to kidnapping and ransoming.”
Next door, another mostly one way conversation was taking place, as the middle-aged woman regarded the teenage boy who lectured her on morality. "Well aren't you just setting yourself up wonderfully for all five heavens?" she remarked, crossing her arms. She reached out and patted one of his. "Good for you." It was naught but two more seconds before she closed the door, and with some force.
Niallus quickly found his way back to the others in the wake of Abdel's threat and they were perhaps a bit busy. Both men's eyes snapped to the finger, but any gratitude they might've felt was superseded by a mixture of fear and anger. These humans had come to their door with two vicious animals and a severed finger, hammering on it in the middle of sem'ayiir saluuv until they'd had no choice but to open, and now there were others, evidently surrounding their house. Now there were strange threats and blackmail. They never should have opened!
"Harlan, Achem wiip wes eluu pa yanii ya. Juup joi?"
The younger one, eyes afraid, shook his head. "Harlan naja nax wiip, moila. Nax ya suuluun."
"Eluumen, ya yelost juu Achem."
The woman was already backing away, her face a mask of horror and confusion. "Eluumen wiip wes. Yelost, nax wiip wes. Pelosh tiij toil tox pa Colas. Ela teiyix tiij pox'em Harlan'ii tic?"
"One momen." Achem managed a shaky smile to try to reassure his visitors, but all three yasoi were drawing energy. It was clear that he was thinking, putting pieces together. "Nax'a lesaal. Pa oilanax a luum'o oft. Tiij ynast oap'it a. Senii, tiij yim fuu." He breathed in and out. "Se luum'ii teluu rey yash. Achem vith'it joixé."
"Whoa whoa whoa!" Johann interjected. "Nobody needs to protect anybody. We just need to know about the boy: the missing boy." Eluumen was already running.
"I'm Lalomen. How about you?" the girl was asking, the door having opened a crack wider. Then, before Oksana could answer, it slammed shut and the child stumbled back, alarmed. A yasoi woman hurtled into view, radiating fear with each step. "Malo! Pathiir yil elaz!" She scooped the girl up. "Tuum'a dax. Tuum'a toil tox pa Colas!"
Lalomen looked upon Oksana with horror as her mother spirited her away. Then, the woman stopped, realizing that she was surrounded. The enemy was at the front door and had snuck around the back, trying to bait her child. "Mama, elei'ya weix?"
She was placed on the ground. "Malo'semprii, pa Colas el'liic pa yaniixa. Eluumen seldii tuum muul luum'o ilac rey nax seldii tuum duun'it juu stiip joila aluu rey moi'aluu."
The girl was panicking, crying. "Mama..."
"Yax elden, semprii." She whirled, drawing to capacity, and turned her fury on this woman who had come to harm her daughter. "Mama westa'l pa dax lelan. Joi yash juu let'o doin dain. Eluumen felix'al joi duul zoap stii."
At the front, Achem's face hardened. "You lying piece of Cola shit." Beside him, Harlan was less resolute. "You bring back his finger like fucking insult, invent some lie for blackmail us again! You say I'm criminal!?" He stalked forward, brimming with energy, despite the presence of the skuggvars.
"We're saying nothing like that!" Johann tried to assure him, "But this finger was found in a ransom note and it's his! We want to know how."
"I tell you how: you fucking get it from Colas who pay you to come fuck me some more, oh but use nice yanii words and say you help."
"Sir, I don't even know -"
"I spit on you. I spit on your family. I spit on your bird. What the fuck you want now!? Maybe an arm this time? A leg? You come with your lies. You threaten my fucking family!?" he roared. "No more!"
There was zero hesitation or restraint, and Johann dived out of the way. Achem launched a full-power arcane lance right for Abdel's head, the intent to decapitate him.
Colas. Well there was their confirmation. Now, the fallout.
“Colas? You think we're Colas?” sneered Abdel whilst the Skuggvars began to growl and grow restless as they felt the energy gathering. Abdel wasn't going to be defenseless and he drew at a speed far surpassing all others. “Those lowlife thugs could barely even afford one Skuggvar.”
When a lance was trained right at his direction, he stood stiff, eyes adamantly fixed onto his attacker. He raised his hands in surrender. “We're not Colas. We're investigators. And students of the school. Consider what you're doing, and what it will mean for your family if you kill one of us. Please.” he kept it cool, even if it was all a facade. His heart was racing just as much as it had when he was holding Tojarra back. “We just want to know where they conduct their uglier business! And find the Doridax kid.”
That said, he wasn't truly surrendering. With no signs of these Yasoi's lowering their hostilities, he was keen on using his signature spell.
Achem did not care in the slightest for what this Cola lackey had to say. He just needed to buy Eluumen enough time to escape with Malo. Always it was something with these thugs: some sort of excuse to worm their way back into his family's lives and take from them again. Truly, he now knew that they'd never be free. The nerve of sending huusoi with his brother's severed finger and the ridiculous invention that somehow he had been complicit in kidnapping a boy!
He had spoken too much and the element of surprise had been lost. As much as he wanted to obliterate these yanii and their lying placating faces, the smarter play was to stall them. Surely, he would take a savage beating and... perhaps worse, but his wife and daughter could get away. They could start fresh. Oh how he regretted ever working with these thugs. With the politicals controlling everything and directing yasoi only to businesses that donated to their cause, it had seemed the only option. He was glad to be away from Mycormii and from Oiyac before it! Let those places burn! They had failed their people. The yasoi had become too sedentary. Let them spread across the world, travel, and grow, as they once had!
His arcane lance missed, shooting off into the sky instead, just in case because it would buy more time. "You lie! The Colas pay you. They gived you this finger so you have story to tell. So you you can say we are criminal!"
"They take for pay, they say!" Harlan chimed in, eyes wide and bugged out. "Alway, they make us to pay them."
"Them or fucking resistance," growled Achem. "Who you work for, you come my house and all around and call me criminal? How much they are pay you?"
He reached out with his senses as he felt a flare of energy. At the back of the house, Eluumen had just blasted the woman the Colas had sent to snatch his daughter. He used the Gift to tap his brother's neck in a specific pattern. Harlan would know what it meant: help them.
With this escalation, trying to get them to calm down might be a little bit difficult when one drew in to throw an Arcane Lance, seeing that it was a missed shot. "Dii Colas, dii Resistance. Ersand'Enise, dii fuu." He spoke in a broken tone. Yasoi wasn't his best, but it was worth a try.
Abdel flinched at the firing of the lance, even if it was a warning shot. The Skuggvars were ready to charge as they roared in fury after hostilities were made clear after the attack. “Fucker.” the teen scoffed. “I just said it was the Doridax you daft ...”
Talking appearing increasingly pointless and Niallus' redundancy wasn't going to change anything either. Action had to be taken, and he would have if it wasn't for Dayanara's charging right for the entrance. “Shit! Johann!” he warned, and trained his intention to cast Commandment on his own beast instead.
They couldn't say what had done it: the purposely missed arcane lance, Niallus' attempts to placate, the skuggvar's attempt to attack, or Abdel's refocusing on it. Regardless of what it might've been, Achem took a step back and Harlan stood there, brimming with energy but not intent. "If you really Ersandenise, then I tell you Cola Brotherax come here. Make us pay money for 'protect'. They cut my brother finger when we have not enough. Maybe they use for this 'Doridax'. I don't fucking know or care. Now you yash duul spax and leaf my family!" (1)
"If you good what you say, you go!" Harlan chimed in. "We tell you all. Go fight Colas, not us!"
Oksana, meanwhile, was dealing with a somewhat different sort of threat.
Oksana focused intently on the girl's lips, trying to follow her words. She tapped her ear and offered a smile. "Me Deaf," she explained, gesturing to herself. "Yes, cold place, Vossoriya. Lot of snow. Brrrr!" She mimicked shivering, wrapping her arms around herself. "From St Yuri, come to Ersandrise, seek to refuge. Bad people at home, fled them." With gentle hands, she moved the elk out of the scene and away from the snow.
There was a sudden burst of panic, as the mother seemed to scoop up the daughter as the conversation continued in another language, Oksana remained attentive, though she couldn't understand the words. One term caught her attention, the Rollers. She glanced around, scanning the area as if on guard. "Rollers bad, they take dough and beat. Stay away from Rollers," she warned, looking toward the pair. Pointing at the sad face in the frost, she added, "No cry, we brave."
Oksana swung her cloak around like a makeshift shield, freezing it and reinforcing it with her own kinetic magic. The shield's shape deflected the gust of wind around her as she crouched behind it. "shcho za diavol," she exclaimed loudly, followed by a rapid-fire response of "Ne vykorystovuyte taku nebezpechnu mahiyu, khtos' mozhе postrazyaty." She paused for a moment, gathering her senses. "Stop! No hurt to people." Lowering the cloak so her eyes could peer over it, she observed the situation more closely, checking to see if anyone was caught in the crossfire.
She'd been pushed back a bit, past the yard an through the fence, and the yasoi woman had rushed out to occupy that space, interposing herself between Oksana and Lalomen. The little girl came scurrying out and ran past, into an alley. "You no hurt me girl!" the mother screamed. "You fuck off!" She gathered energy for a blinding blast of light.
It seemed that Oksana had stumbled upon an angry parent, and she was no stranger to dealing with such situations and their overprotective nature. She couldn't fathom even laying a finger on the girl; if anything, she would protect the girl herself if the situation warranted it. All she could imagine was that the boys had somehow messed up, and now there was an overly defensive family involved. Knowing when to withdraw, she realized there was no role for her here.
"No harm, I'll leave," she said, ducking behind cover as she sensed tension rising again, slowly stepping backward under her cloak away from the property. "Just misunderstandings here." She had no appetite for a fight, but the same couldn't be said for the other party; she knew she would need to keep her guard up.
Abdel, after wrestling his Skuggvar with sheer will, shot a glare at Harlan in particular.
“Where do you find them?” his voice deep and his demeanor immovable. “You want this?” he raised the severed finger. “You'll only get our binder's help if you help us. How many are there? How do they work? WHERE are their hideouts?”
The Skuggvar, while placated, was dangerous close to the house and rumbling like the dying Lorantine Queen.
The finger had been severed days ago and was, effectively, unsalvageable, nor had Abdel, Johann, Niallus, or Oksana given the slightest indication that they were anything other than home invaders with a flimsy excuse backing an attempt at some kind of blackmail, much less people capable of healing a complex wound. The simple fact of the matter, however, was that they could easily overpower Achem and Harlan, and both parties knew it. The two might've given in easily and told the Biros the next-to-nothing that they knew had their pride not been pricked by the brazenness of this daytime assault.
"You want make your animal attack us? Because we yasoi all same to you. All bad. All know the other. You come, then. I can't stop you. Steal what you want," he pronounced bitterly, "then you go. I say nothing for people who come my house call me criminal. Say I take some boy." He spat at their feet. It was clear that he was deeply embittered and not about to speak. Harlan's eyes flicked back and forth between the invaders and his brother. "We know nothing, just they come - maybe four - we house or we restaurant, but they is more. They take our money, they go. We not have, they take other thing." He held up his hand. "But you ya like Colas or more bad. Much yanii are. I live with no one finger so I remember this."
Johann turned politely to Niallus, then. "I think we need a new approach to this situation," he decided, taking in Abdel as well. "From their perspective, we're four random non-locals who showed up pounding on their door with a pair of skuggvars, interrogated their neighbours, and snuck around back of their home. We've now shown them the severed finger of one of their family members that they last saw taken by gangsters and accused them of being complicit in criminal activity. We've given them no reason to cooperate except fear and, even then, we've failed to pull the trigger." He regarded Niallus again. "Niallus, might you step back from this situation, perhaps go check on Oksana and make certain that nothing drastic has happened there?"
He shot Abdel a look as if to say, "trust me on this one". "Partner, perhaps the animals need to be removed from such a stimulus, even if only for a moment." Then, he faced the pair of yasoi and spread his arms nonconfrontationally. "I promise we are not here to steal from you. See? They are stepping back." he paired it with an appropriate gesture.
Oksana, meanwhile, had recognized that something had gone very wrong. The girl's mother stood there, brimming with energy and shouting at her to leave in yasoi as she backed off. It had all been a misunderstanding: a terrible misunderstanding. The child ran. She ran out of view of her cautiously-advancing mother. She ran and then, suddenly, she tripped and fell. She landed hard on the ground and she did not rise.
Oksana blinked in shock as she saw the little girl on the floor, not moving. What kind of cruelty is this? She cursed under her breath, “Zvernit' uvahu na dytinu,” she stood up, pointing towards where the little girl lay. “Girl hurt!”
A little girl getting hurt on her watch was unforgivable. There were a couple of ways to deal with this, but only a big gesture would probably work. She raised her hands in a surrender posture as she indicated again. “Binder. Girl safety first, I'll go.” There was also a plan B, but she hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Abdel exhaled in frustration. It was infuriating having to communicate and compromise when one could simply decide. His better nature kept him from making that leap, as did his experience, but still. The words these locals chose and how they conveniently decided to frame this earned them little sympathy from the teen.
He shot look at Johann and crossed his arms. “Fine.” he answered, forcing more petulence into his voice than he normally ever would before gesturing his beasts to retreat. Not completely gone, but they were being semi-piloted around the corner where they could catch the scent of the buudvuud and wander curiously.
The girl's mother cried out and began running there. She made no move to stop Oksana, for she had sensed no draw from her: nothing that could've caused her daughter's mishap, and she knew the word 'binder'. It was a major leap of faith on her part. When Oksana got there, it was unclear what had happened. The girl had fallen as if her foot had caught on something, and her hands had failed to shoot out and stop her fall. She had gone unconscious on impact with the ground due to head trauma.
Meanwhile, Johann breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, really," he replied, as the other two began to retreat. "And please don't be alarmed if you sense some energetic drawing. I will be attempting a medical procedure." He waited until they were gone and then he drew to his full capacity. Both of the yasoi grimaced, and Harlan dropped to his knees, trying not to heave. "Oh my Oraff! I'm so sorry," exclaimed Johann, and he hurried over to lay a hand each on the struggling brothers.
Harlan slumped. Achem froze in confusion. Johann leaned in and spoke quietly in Mycormish. "Tesh hyco teluu joi jex elaz, cip et thei sa. Nash'elar ya tox et senii. Luum thust'al etii luuch hyco luur duul ix lai ol joi wiip yim nash ezei'siilan joi wes sil pa Colas, joi thoil-yanii do-siilan: ela tuum tai, eloi tuum a yil, elei tuum nar, eloi tuum pen rey tiin, elo tuum spax. Ol joi stiip nash, nash dii roi'it pa tuur'yim juu yim et juu oap. Pelosh, nax suum juup'it ap nax'patash. Juup joi poiret nash?" he paused, starting to draw back. "Senii, joi etaar, luuca? Joi yim do'siilan duul pa, luuca?" He smiled and patted the man on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, but he'll be completely okay and... it's better if he's asleep for this part, luuca?"
A dozen emotions flashed across Achem's face. Then, he hung his head and began crying. "L... luuca," he sniffed, nodding slowly. Johann's face seemed to soften. "I know it isn't easy," he replied, "but thank you and, remember, I need everything or this won't work."
He squeezed Achem's shoulder and it all began to spill out: how he held no love for the governments of Mycormii and Oiyac, how the resistance operated like a gang among the refugees and had blacklisted his business because he refused to donate some of his profits to their cause, how he had turned to the Colas in desperation and how they had wored to counter the resistance. He hadn't wanted to do ill, he sobbed. He hadn't known how bad they'd be. He hadn't counted on word getting out and people pulling their business. They hadn't been able to pay. Four Colas: an enormous fat one named Daiyet, an angry young ginger one named Fantas, a pretty slinky woman with bright red hair named Cherii, and the ringleader: Pepsii, who was the smartest of the bunch: ruthless, cruel and - he'd sensed - conflicted on some level. They never gave away their exact base of operations, but it was in an area quite close to the warehouse that had been mentioned in the ransom note, Johann noted. They weren't ideological, Achem was pretty sure. They were only in it for the money, just like the Doridaxes had the reputation of being, though there were rumours that, recently, they'd been channeling funds towards the resistance. That was, the yasoi swore, all that he knew, on Shiin's holy name.
With that, Johann stepped back and breathed. He bowed his head gratefully. "Thank you so very much," he replied, "And I'm sorry for that mess. I believe that we understand each other better now, though." He strode over to the unconscious Harlan, reached out, and, with all of his expertise in Binding and Blood, began to wind the flesh together. He filled the young man with energy and Harlan rose in astonishment.
Dayanara required a tad more tugging - actual, physically tugging and not the gift. He could only manipulate them so much without assuming direct control, and potentially hurting the beasts. This whole job wasn't worth some of his best assets. With that, Abdel was gone from the premises for just a minute to tie the animals where they could be distracted by alluring scents.
On his return, scarce few words had slipped by the fences that separated properties. He had only bothered to sense whether hostilities continued, and by the looks of it the Kerreman fat guy had executed his plan. Abdel was impressed if not a tad curious as to what he had said. He also wondered why the more eloquent Mycormish had to wait until now. Or maybe the bit he caught was all that Johann could muster. Truthfully, after the headache this conundrum had become, he had no desire to doubt his associate. The job was done, with all the information spilling right before him as he arrived.
“Impressive.” a merrier Abdel gave a couple of ceremonious claps to Johann before flashing a smile and nodding at the two distressed men. “We appreciate the cooperation. Next time,” her pursed his lips and shook his head. “remember, we're here to help. We're just getting a grip on the refugee issue.” with that, he provided a friendly wave to the family before nodding Johann's way. “We've got our leads. Let's pay these Colas a visit before they haul somewhere else. I can imagine word spreading quickly here.”
After listening to what Johann mentioned, he agreed. They could have approached this with more care. Instead they decided to throw chaos into this matter. "Yes, we kinda made a mess of this." letting out a small sigh in frustration.
When Johann asked him to check up on Oksana, Niallus nodded "I'll get her, hopefully she hasn't got into too much trouble." once outside, he walked off into the direction where Oksana went.
Upon arriving. It seems a lot had happen, he didn't want to jump to conclusions. Standing next to the Girls mother, "We are about to go."he said to her politly. Then asked her, "What can you tell me aboutthe resistance?"
Once the mother had backed down, Oksana swiftly approached, her heart racing with concern. She carefully tended to the child, giving her a once-over before moving her into a more suitable position for a thorough inspection. There was a clear graze on the head, bleeding profusely from where she had hit it hard against a stone. With gentle hands, Oksana applied a cloth to the wound, then began using her binding magic to seal it. This was the easy part; the face tended to bleed a lot, but it was the risk of concussion that concerned her most. She began to reduce the swelling, little by little, taking her time to ensure the best outcome.
Anxiously, the mother watched as Oksana tended to her daughter. Did her rage cause this? Had she neglected her precious little girl? Her mind was flooded with thoughts and doubts. Suddenly, she sensed a presence behind her, and instinctively went to cover her ear, her fear palpable. Whirling around, she spotted Niallius approaching from the side of the house. Acting on instinct, she positioned herself between him and her daughter, a mix of protectiveness for her child and silent pleading in her eyes. Though his words were foreign to her, she understood the meaning of resistance. “Velluum! Yim joi ezei,” she responded, her voice trembling. “Ilac’se mitoip fo hax’olop vel. Temoip’hoam seno stiip. Dax’aspaa qeil’pol. Poiret?”
Meanwhile, Oksana finished her ministrations and breathed a sigh of relief. Turning her attention to Niallius and the mother, she noticed the woman looking intimidated. Furrowing her brow at Niallius, she silently questioned his actions. Gathering the sleeping child in her arms, Oksana approached the mother and gently presented the girl to her. “Girl sleep,” she gestured, pressing her hands together against the side of her head. Overwhelmed with emotion, the mother sobbed as she cradled her baby girl, covering her face in kisses and muttering softly in the yasoi language.
With a tug on Niallius's shoulder, Oksana led him away. “Don’t be bad,” she urged quietly, hoping to diffuse any tension that lingered in the air by leading him away.
In the event, neither Niallus nor Oksana understood much of anything that had been said, but they would soon enough be filled in by Johann and Abdel. The true nature of the resistance, this family's devil's bargain with the Cola Brothers, the thugs' names, and a rough location of their base of operations - close to the warehouse they'd been directed to in the first place, and some dirt on the Doridaxes: it all came out.
Eluumen scurried in through the back door, having managed a small, vaguely grateful nod in Oksana's direction and a fearful look in Niallus'. Lalo looked back with wide eyes and managed a shy little wave goodbye at the Vossoriyan.
"I'm sorry for my deception," Johann said, as they were walking away. He tried to take care to look mostly at Oksana so that she could read his lips even though he was primarily addressing Abdel. "I had doubts about the plan but you all seemed to gung-ho." He shrugged and grimaced. "I figured they weren't going to talk to us openly, so I wanted to hide the level of Mycormish I understood in the hopes they'd give something away in talking with each other." He nodded slowly as they turned a corner, leaving that area of the town. "Turns out that they did and it gave me an avenue in through empathizing and telling a couple of white lies."
It was not long before they were close to where they had started, the skuggvars now sniffing out the other group. "I do think that the resistance bears investigating," Johann added, "and this one-legged woman." He shook his head. "Reshta's name, they're everywhere, aren't they?"
After the events that happened with Oksana, Eluumen and her daughter. He somewhat understood Eluumen answer to his question. How they suffer the consequences if you don't pay enough, they hurt you. Proof was that severed finger. After this he was going to brush up on his Mycromish.
"It's fine Johann. You managed to salvage the chaos that we caused." giving him a pat on the back. "Maybe these Colas have some information that can help us when investigatingthe Resistance." Niallus added, "But I don't think it will be that easy, so it'll be best to focus on finding the Colas base first."
Location: Zengali - Mezegol Day of the week: Victendes Time: Daytime -> Late Afternoon Characters: Zarina, Biby, Penny @Force and Fury, Rikard, Yvain @jasbraq, Taleja @Ti, Guy @dragonpiece, Keanjaho, the rowing crew.
She had to admit, being a stowaway was not as adventurous as she had imagined. Eternally would Zarina be grateful of her progress with temporal magic after pinching a nerve of the hammock she had to make due within the cargo hold. Still, it was a bonding experience with the group of dregs she was with, and of course Biby the House Hippo that seldom left the confines of her messenger bag she had organised just for him. His head occasionally popped out of the pet-opening to sniff about and yawn before retreating back inside.
On the occasions where Zarina had free time, she shot a glance at both correspondences she had been given. One was straightforward and the object of most of her pondering while the other held a more cryptic message, one surrounded by easy enigmas but ushered in moral choices she did not expect out of a mere animal control operation. Although then again, you never knew with the powers that be.
Once they had arrived, introductions were in order. Appearing a tad blasé, like she had been in a ship for a bit too long, the dishevelled Virangish raised her hand. "A pleasure, Brother. Zarina. The Water Bug Connoisseur." she tapped her own chest and then gestured to the little head that emerged from the partially opened bag like a handbag dog. "And this is Biby. No doubt a key to my success strategy." she flashed a cheeky grin with her eyes still half-lidded.
The bright light of day hit hard, prompting her to raise her hand and shield her eyes. "Busy." her barely opened eyes scrutinised the port she laid her feet upon. "And familiar." she remarked in a distinct lack of surprise as she saw the other group of students - most notably Ayla and Leon.
Before they would stray for ‘preparations’, the beastmaster turned to her group. "A few hours aren’t a lot, and we know better than to just blast the bug." she looked briefly to the side where coastal lines spanned with walls of stone and green continued on without any human interference. "First thing’s first, we’ll need a place to trap the thing that isn’t, well, here. And not in deep waters. It’s not only more dangerous in its element but we’ll have a hard time keeping it in place if we do manage to immobilise it." she rubbed her chin as she continued to muse their situation. "Someone that can be useful in that ailing camp could get information on the attack.” her attention briefly jumped toward the conspicuous pirate ship and her crew. "These less than savoury folks probably have a tale or ten to share. It wouldn’t hurt to buddy up with the sailors we’ll be working with either, if anyone’s feeling it. Especially if other interests are involved here."
Zarina looked up the cliffside to notice the lord’s home that stood out among the architectures. "It would be wise for us to make our presences known and pitch a plan to those that hired us." she chuckled before glancing at her colleagues with a smirk. Biby yawned whilst looking their way as well. "Anyone feeling like they could represent the group? Or should I have the honours?"
"We hustle, then we reconnoitre during that festival, mmkay?"
Penny realized that she was standing quite aimlessly in the midst of her evaluations. She shrugged and shook her head to clear it. "Right, well I suppose I should follow her lead," she concluded. "It's rather a walk out to that ship." With a polite nod and a smile, she took her leave. "I shall reconnoiter with you all in a handful of hours, by the large disturbingly phallic statue in the square, no?" With that, she was off.
Zarina gestured toward the pirate ship in agreement as Penny offered herself up to handle it. “If you need backup,” she peered over toward Rikard. “we can always have the titan killer himself, Rikard, stay nearby.” she winked his way, recalling the visions of him slaying grand demons and taking on Tojarra himself. A free electron, to be sure, but an effective one.
Her head then shifted to the other side with Yvain being suggested for the meet. “Ah.” the Virangish crossed her arms while Biby's head poked out. “Right.” her scowl wasn't stifled whatsoever, her disdain very clear from the mere aura she projected. “Do you think yourself capable of speaking for us, Berbignon?” she nudged her chin to expectation of a response.
“Well, then again, risking that boat suddenly exploding would be a pretty bad start anyway.”
Yvain felt the utter disdain of the Virangish woman fall upon him. Multiple different responses ran through his mind, running from How dare this merchant scowl at me? to a apology. With a heavy sigh, he tried to wash the filthy disdain from his mind. "I will speak in the interest of the Sovereign pact." He scoffed. Looking at Zarina with his signature shit-eating grin he nearly lost. "But back to the question of being capability."
His grin turned to a sour expression. "There is a high chance your friends are your opponents in this task, so to let me ask you this.. . . Will you let that cloud your judgement? Will you work in the interest of Virang and the Sovereign pact as a whole?"
Zarina cocked a brow and studied Yvain's demeanour briefly. A challenging look soon clashed with his. “I'll get the job done right. Preferably with most of us alive.” she answered, arms crossed and posture adamant. “So we got a speaker for us. Then I'll go check on that boat and the coast. Hells, I'll see if I can scout out the hot zone, even.
Yvain clapped his hands together and smiled. "I'm glad we are on the same page here. I'd rather not get violent with the others either." He tried to picture the Virangish with a smile as well but all he could picture is disdain and annoyance. "I am not your enemy, miss Al-Nader. If you need assistance, I shall offer my help."
As Zarina made it to the rowboat, she was greeted with the sight of many strongmen loading the last crates of supplies on a rowboat. All of them seemed friendly, nothing but smiles and they ended up directing her to the captain of this small voyage. A tall, rotund man dressed in beautiful clothing and jewellery.
He was smoking a pipe and seemed generally jolly. He was staring at the sea with childlike amusement of his little journey. One of the men called out that they had a fine looking guest. He bounded over, tripping over some oars to eventually get to his new shipmate.
"Hello! Welcome! Salutation young lady, what can Keanjaho do for you today?"
An airborne Zarina descended with considerable meticulousness onto the small empty space she could find on the rowboat. Even after over a year of practice, tight landings were always tricky it seemed as her arrival came with a light rocking of the vessel.
“Salam brothers and sir Kee-nej-ajo.” she waved in their general direction and nodded curtly. “My name is Zarina, and I’m studying local wildlife.” she flashed a reassuring smile at all of them while Biby eyed the unknown factors from the hole in the bag. “And according to my findings, you lot are rowing into dangerous waters. Very dangerous. May I ask why?”
"A pleasure to meet you! You look Virangish no? I have many friends from Virang," he waved over to one of the men to bring some stuff over, somewhat listening making small gestures to make sure Zarina knew he was. A table was whisked in and 2 drinks of tea made.
"Your studying local wildlife? Their are some beautiful birds that roost in the cliffs. Truly a rainbow of variety-" his mind jumped from one spot in the conversation to another. "Ah! Yes, yes, the thresher. I am well aware of Miss Zarina," a momentary pause took place where he seemed to contemplate what he was doing but then a big smile appeared on his face. "But there must be some one to help scout out the day before and we are the best rowers in all of Zengali!" Keanjaho waved his glass around to his men and they let out a cheer.
“Well well, you came prepared.” chuckled an amused Zarina, opting to not sit but accepted the tea as a gesture of politeness. Still, as taught by her betters, she had a brief chemical cleansing of the stuff before indulging at the peril of its flavour. “Gandakar, actually. You must've met a few friends. Mustafa Derari ring a bell?” she tilted her head expectantly before moving on to the more pressing point.
“Ah, well, that's precisely what I came to study.” the tall girl held the cup with both hands as she briefly pondered how to formulate her approach. “I'm here to investigate and research the causes for the Bluewater Behemoth's unusual behaviour, and help stop it if I can.” and with that, she smirked. “Looks like I've found the right people. Would you accept a coastal city girl as a plus one?”
"Well of course," Keanjaho laughed and was just about to start a story before sitting in to listen to Zarina's request. He set his tea down with much more purpose. The friendly smile was still there but his eyes carried more weight to them. He judged her with the eyes of a merchant, weighing the value in her addition versus the risk of her loss as a fighter tomorrow.
"I can accept on 3 conditions, miss Zarina. One, you must pull your weight and be an active member in the voyage," he stuck up his thumb. "Two, you must, if able, secure your own life if the need comes. I won't have a young soul like yourself in my guilt," He put up is index finger. "And third-" Keanjaho expression became light again, "Share a drink with me and crew before we set off! It's only tradition, no?"
“Naturally.” Zarina grinned as her feet levitated off the group, literally carrying her own weight.
“Of course.” she landed back down and crossed her arms. Biby had since poked his head out to yawn.
“Hmmm.” the Virangish hesitated on the last one, with her right hand rising up to rub her chin. “If it isn't some Tettari piss water, then count me in.”
Keanjaho stood up the good ole fashion way after Zarina agreed to his stipulations. "This is nothing like Tettari piss water, I can assure you!" he said proudly, "This is a family recipe that people have been drinking in Zengali for generations at this point. Let me go make it." Keanjaho headed off to prepare the tonic.
In the meantime, some of the crew introduced themselves as they waited for the drink as well. They were a relatively friendly group who didn't speak Avincian well but enough to get by. One of the larger men, truly massive in frame and muscle, gave Zarina a warning, "Plug your nose before you drink it." Other than bickering, some said it wasn't that bad, some said it was that bad. None said it was good.
Soon ten full cups of thick yellow drink came out. Swishing it in the cup gave off a pungent spell of lentils, spices, and the twang of fermentation. It was just a bit thicker than ayran and it didn't look appetizing at first glance.
Keanjaho rose a glass, "To us and safe voyage even if it may be a short one. May the gods protect out souls and this drink strengthen our hearts." With that the entire crew began to chug it down quickly. The large man from earlier was choking it down like it was the worst thing in the world.
The warnings met with shows of confidence and dismissive chuckles. In truth, the prospect of slurping something absolutely rancid prompted a visceral reaction from Zarina. Already she was planning a way to dull out her senses. And yet ...
As she saw the piss-coloured 'delight', she pursed her lips and stared at it for a moment. “To safe voyages ...” she spoke with a distinct lack of enthusiasm that was easy to recognize, so much so that she even realized it. In an attempt to correct her landing, she employed a deeper and louder voice. “And the end of that white blight!” and with that, she chugged the stuff like a madwoman.
The first gulp was led with a delicate salt flavor that gave way to a high of warm floral flavors. As you got through the cup, more subtle flavors became apparent. Things like cinnamon, cumin, cardamon, coriander, and a hint of fennel became more noticeable.
Finally the main flavor took form, this fermented earthy notes of the lentils developed on the tongue. Bringing the with it a slight hint of smoke that came only at the final sip. As an experience, it was wholly unique in the way of its development. It had the flavors you would associate more with meats and fish but it played with the fermented lentils quite well. Too heavy and spice forward to have as daily refreshment but quite good for your last warmth on a perilous journey. You did feel it in your stomach though.
The fact the taste was not only quite mild compared to what she had imagined but also familiar to some degree had Zarina worried. Was the aftertaste going to be terrible? Was it going to linger like a Virangish Pepper? Ultimately, none of her fears were realized, leading to a somewhat anticlimactic, if not welcomed outcome. “Huh.” Zarina cocked her brows and observed the empty glass before her. “Honestly, not too bad.” she gave a thumbs up, even if her stomach wasn't so sure about giving out so much positivity. She could feel the gurgles coming already.
It had been a few hours since they had left the high activity wharf and daylight was slowly sinking into an orange-tinged dusk, although they still had time before it got dark. It did leave Zarina wondering just what was the plan once they had their recon? Each time she alluded to it, they reassured her it was typical work and the fjord held no secrets to them. Not exactly reassuring, but the temporal factor she kept close to the chest pacified her somewhat.
Her heart went out to this crew, however, who had little recourse if something happened. Clearly this mission was urgent given the lack of resources other than a conspicuous journal Keanjaho wrote every detail into. Zarina did the same, only mentally with Biby occasionally emerging for some pats and hand feedings to distract her.
The house hippo wasn’t the only distraction, but it was definitely a magnet for more attention going her way. If the crew wasn’t already intrigued by the presence of a random ‘scholarly’ girl among them, the bright coloured critter did the trick. The hours were decorated with pleasant exchanges and joy.
Djembe had recently had his third daughter and couldn’t stop boasting about her supposed attunement to the ocean.
Kilik was a crass older man always seeking to make light of everything. Vulgar but clever, and was the one to veil the true risks of the expedition.
Ade was the youngest of the crew and often the butt of jokes. Barely Zarina’s age and definitely more reserved, if not a good sport about it all.
Daoud always had a story to tell, making him the most consistent voice they’d hear during the trip. He was also clearly making half of the things up.
Hami didn’t speak a whole lot, but when a good joke was cracked, he had the heartiest of laughs.
Jabali was the very large and muscular of the bunch, and quite the sweetheart too.
And finally there was Penda, the first mate to Keanjaho. He took his job very seriously and hardly smiled. It seemed he was all too aware of what was going on.
“That cove.” the Virangish plus one pointed at an isolated opening by a large cliffside. “It looks just shallow enough for us to work with. You got a map?”
"Of course, what captain would I be if I said no?" the jolly man tugged one of the many scrolls he had in his sack - a spare and virgin map he so graciously gave to his guest. Zarina accepted with both her careful hands.
“Gracias.” she said.
"De nada." he replied.
It Came from the Depths
Soon enough, they had reached the floating graveyards of the recent attacks. Wooden and human remains were being dragged by the currents but many stagnated still near the site of disaster. With the use of flight, Zarina scouted out while the boat remained at a relatively safe distance.
Dismembered ships just as much as torn apart people. It was a horrid sight to be sure, and she could only imagine just how wicked the depths truly looked. Corpses that had hit the nearby shores were riddled with crabs and other seaborne parasites feasting on their bloated carcass. It was there that Zarina realized just how dire of a situation this was - as dire as that demon from An Zenui. This thing was but a source of misery and had to be stopped.
As she returned toward the ship, she noticed one unusual detail: Foam. It resembled seaweed foam at first, but as she drifted closer, the consistency did not match up. Nor did any sort of sensing reveal an abnormality. And yet the peculiar spread of clustered foam near the coast but also around the attack site left the teen at a loss. As a coastal girl, she knew they didn’t cluster like this. With a portable cup she used for her coffee, which she selflessly sacrificed the remains of her caffeine boost for the cause, scooped a few samples before sealing it away.
“Hmmm.” Zarina pondered as she returned. “Isn’t that smell familiar?” she peered down at a clueless Biby as if she expected an answer. “Just at the tip of my tongue …”
She arrived on the ship with the captain still dutifully scribbling everything he saw. “You find it weird too?” she asked as her feet hit the wooden surface. "That foam isn’t from any sea I’ve voyaged through, Lady Zarina." he didn’t seem to jolly as he turned to face her. "The smell reminds me of a bar somehow." Zarina flinched. “A bar, really?” for a moment, they both pondered.
"Of course!" the big man clapped his hands. "It’s the-"
Then, they felt it. It was unmistakable. It was gargantuan. It was coming.
Only eyes spoke at this moment. Zarina quickly sealed her bag to protect the hippo and the crew quickly manned their positions. There were no more merry demeanours, only cold hard professionalism.
"Penda, zhue-" a massive wave erupted from right under the ship, splitting a third of it away instantly and leaving the other two-thirds to capsize. Those at the front had no chance, and those at the back all met the sea. Someone was impaled by a piece of plank, another had been dragged in by that thing.
Zarina desperately reached out for the nearest two people she could with barely any control over the massive kinetic forces driving the currents. One man was hurled into her, while another had barely caught her hand. Keanjaho, however, had taken too much time to secure his diary and missed Zarina’s other hand by a second before another crash from the beast’s claw separated them. With that, the student had vanished with her rescued duo.
One second they were in the hands of death, the next they were among the rubble at the coast. When Zarina rubbed the salt water off her eyes, she realised she had saved both Daoud and Kilik, the latter without a scratch and the former with a few wood splinters dug into his leg and arm.
They could see the carnage unfold. A mass of foamy waves as white as the claws that clobbered them. The water had turned red with screams of the survivors left behind reaching them.
“Hold this.” ordered Zarina as she passed her bag to Kilik.
”Don’t go girl, it’s suicide!” pleaded Kilik as her caught the bag.
”Let it go, you can’t change her mind.” a pained Daoud spoke up and gestured toward Zarina’s resolute eyes. ”She got that look the captain had.”
With that, she zipped into the fray once more. Most were dead or drowning after losing consciousness. The red fog made it so much worse, but-
“Captain!” she called out as she sensed a familiar form. However, it was within the murky waters, and alive! She dove, only to witness it.
Unbelievably large, pale as a ghost meshed with the blood of its victims, and burning with an unnatural rage. The mere sight gave her vertigo. Almost enough to let her just drift away in utter horror. She had forgotten to breathe, and had it not been of Keanjaho’s kinetic strike on her cheek, she may have become perfect bait for the creature. Shaken out of her daze, she frantically reached for the captain.
They were so close, doing their best to fight off the currents and influences of the Thresher’s magics.
They were so close, with Keanjaho’s advanced channelling enabling feats she didn’t think possible.
They were so close that she could just touch the man’s hand, the one holding the bag with the diary. That was it! All she needed was a strong grip. One more second.
That second passed and she finally dug her nails into that wrist. And in a tenth of that wait, she had disappeared back onto the shore.
A panting Zarina was found fifty metres away from the two she had saved. On all fours and her hand clutching that hand she had held onto for dear life. The bag the captain risked everything for lied before her, wet but in one piece. Along with that single piece of Keanjaho she could save - all up to the elbow.
Upon acknowledging the ghoulish sight with the carnage nearing its end in the background, she found her vision beginning to blur. And as the two shipmates arrived, they found her lying down, face half in the water, and with a mango-sized hold on her flank, where the spleen would be.
As her vision faded, she recalled every single one of these men that had been sacrificed.
Djembe, killed nearly in an instant by a wooden plank through the chest.
Ade was taken in by the current and subsequently devoured by the beast. He could not scream in agony when buried in the sea water.
Hami was at the front and fell unconscious immediately. He subsequently drowned in the deep depths.
Jabali fought the current and thrashing beast with all her could, but found himself impaled by a massive spike, only to be then discarded into two split pieces.
Penda was instantly obliterated when the claw shattered the boat, creating a red that painted the battlefield.
And of course, Keanjaho. Sank with his ship and fought to the bitter end until he was indistinguishable from the rest of the ocean he had devoted his life to.
Location: Ersand'Enise - Animal Farm Day of the week: Victendes Time: Morning / Daytime Characters: Zarina, Nu, Biby, Penny @Force and Fury, Rikard, Yvain @jasbraq, Taleja @Ti, Guy @dragonpiece
The board room was ornately furnished with a table in the middle, a bottle of Ellermane Bleu and a couple of glasses ready for serving. The friendly Perrench man greets the students at the door and introduces them to the comfortable chair as he pours out the bottle into the glass. Marigold cheerfully greets application with a heartful meow before disappearing under the table to reside underneath the Zeno's chair. He gave a chuckle, “She is a little shy around strangers.” He is seated comfortable, and relaxed. It is a nice and pleasant atmosphere, as if two friends are ready to chat over a glass of wine. “Your application was a refreshing read, and I am interested in you. Tell me something that I cannot read from this page.” He patted his hand on your completed application form, before it found itself scratching along the back of the cats neck as it appeared on the table.
Zarina opted for a safe middle-ground when it came to her presentation: Darker colours for her formal dress, one that would be conventionally accepted as tasteful to bring to classes, without being too dim as to suggest she was mourning something. She was fresh with an odour of lavender permeating the air around her. With a steady and calculated gait, she approached the seat dedicated to her.
“High Zeno Masson.” she spoke before bowing.
The disarming demeanor of her interviewer brought the tall student to an ease she wouldn't easily achieve in such occasions. She took a seat, tugged slightly on her dress to give space to her knees and took a seat in a proper, ladylike fashion.
“She's beautiful. Hey you!” cooed Zarina as her golden hues followed the little animal. The sight made her smile, something Olivier knew from reading her record. With a light touch of her signature chemical spell, she attempted to ease the stress on the feline and communicate the Al-Nader as a 'friend'.
“Well,” Zarina peered at her wine glass. Her personal inclinations told her to indulge, but her mother's teachings told her to wait for the host to poison themselves first. She conspicuously looked at Olivier's glass before continuing. “I'm a stickler for good Ellermane Bleu.” she said as she seized the glass and merely inhaled the aromas to distinguish the different unique quirks that made it the way it was. “I've had quite a bit catered a while ago. But not many people know just how much I love the stuff.” she giggled sweetly.
“But for what's relevant to the position? I'd say I'm one hell of a good staple that keeps many great folks attending this school together. No matter where they're from or what they believe in.”
Masson tutted a little as the cat moved away from the use of chemical magic, shaking his head lightly. He moved to fill a little saucer with some cream, as he smiled gently, "She will return on her own." As he moved his hand on the glass, raising it up as if to do a silent toast toward Zarina as encouraging her to drink. Matching if she went to drink.
"You are a little bit different than I expected," He motioned towards her presentation in a gentle manner, "and your coffee is certainly a staple, amongst the students and the faculty." He circled with a finger on her point on togetherness, "So, why do you do it?"
Zarina raised her glass in mimicry. “There's a reason they make the host drink first. Please don't make me neutralize such good stuff.” she commented with a twinge of sass. She really was tempted to just sip.
With actual questions shot her way, she took a moment to think. She pondered whilst staring into the dark-red fluid, making her look far more profound than she really was. In truth, she was just trying to remember simple vocabulary. “Because it's when I had all these good people united in a common goal that we've achieved greatness.” she answered with a tone teetering toward dramatics that matched her words. The gesturing with her idle hand added even more to it. “Changed the lives of many of our tethered colleagues forever, and for the better I feel. And saved a whole city-state from an incarnation of evil. All of it because we we tied together without any bickering over petty differences. We made a true difference to the world, the same way I'd want to do for this school and city.”
She then sighed. “Of course, all this was possible because of trust.” and with those words, she took a first sip.
Masson winked as he drunk after Zarina, "I did not share the same concern. With your chemical magic expertise, you should have been able to neutralize the toxin without further affecting the quality of the vintage." Marigold returned to the table as she mewled, and moved over to the saucer to lap its contents.
"You make such feats sound effortless in your reply, and without you, all this could have not all been possible. Truly marvellous, I am geniunely intrigued." He gave a couple of claps with his hands, "Tell me more of the specifics, how did you do it? I wish to learn more about how you completed these achievements."
“Tsk tsk. The slightest alteration can ruin it. If only I was that good.” Zarina lamented before taking a more hearty sip. “But I think you can make due without a scandal involving dead students or assassination attempts, right? Trust and character judging were key to my success.” she said, causing a recently stitched wound in her mind to open up. She hid it, of course, but it embittered her nonetheless.
Zarina then shrugged, making it a habit to sip every time she engaged a new idea. “I organized a soirée and invited friends, and those friends invited their friends. No pretenses, no ulterior motives. Just a chance to be friends again before the big war pops and an investment for the future. The same way I go about my business.” and her love life, it seemed. Although she abstained to mention that one. “'Cause this is what you're getting with me: Someone who cares about the long term, partially because I'm likely to see it, but also because I see Ersand'Enise as my home.” she pursed her lips and gestured to indicate she wasn't done. “I know that sounded a little melodramatic but I actually do literally own a home here. So, y'know, gotta be a citizen, corporate and otherwise, if I wanna live at ease here.”
Masson circled the glass in his grasp, as he listened half-attentively. "I had hoped for more about this about this tethered story, or rescuing a whole city state from evil." He moved over to a bowl of grapes as he plucked several to put in his mouth, as he suckled on the succelent rich taste of them, one for each of his five gods, and Zarina's god, then one for the goddess of the yasoi. He gestured with his hand, "So your soiree was an opportunity to invest in social credit before the event of a potential war? That sounds quite calculating and ambitious ." He offered the bowl of grapes towards Zarina.
“Oh.” Zarina blinked. “I thought you wanted to know how I got people to unite. Right, okay.” she shook her head and raised her hand. “We fought to overthrow a Tethered Refuge's corrupt governance and saved it from a maddened Royal Sand Wyrm. We all worked together and ...” she looked to the side, showing some potential shame. “I got over some ideas I had about them - the tethered. I'm hoping I can convince others to give them more of a chance, y'know?” she shrugged.
“An Zenui ... You know, it came down to finding the right people to fix a broken government - again - and Prime Minister Cozesteo, an enemy I spared out of mercy, became our solution.” she pursed her lips and took a sip of her glass - it was nearly empty. “Then came the big, bad Hetraxa monster that killed hundreds, and was gonna kill more and more.” she nodded, gaze a bit hollow as she recalled. “It's a bit more of a blur to me, as I was, well you've seen in my sheet there, transformed. Parts of it come and go.” she took a deep breath and followed up with more confidence. “That being said, monstrous or not, I saved hundreds, if not thousands, thanks to what I was - A wildblood. And I intend to do the same for this city.”
Zarina accepted the grapes but did not seem to be in any mood to eat. “You make it sound so cynical, High Zeno.” she uttered with a glum look. “But yeah, it was kind of calculated. Calculated and genuine. I've grown to care about these people - this community. And the only way we'll make this world, not just this school and city, better is by investing in its future rather than constantly destroying it to start anew. It was almost pointlessly risky for me to invite some of the Revidians after what had happened. Almost.” a light glimmer could be found in her eye. One of a shrewd businesswoman.
He waved his hand as to dismissively fend off the accusation, "Don't look so glum, I am not here to make an omelette, Miss Al-Nader" He gave a chuckle as he reached for bottle, offering to refill the glass. "But I want that shell of yours to crack, and to see what will hatch from it." He placed his hands together as if stern for a moment, then relaxed again, as the kitty leaned up against his arm. "It is approaching Marigold's lunch time," he scratched under the cats chin, as her purr rumbled gently from the action.
“Crack my shell?” Zarina narrowed her eyes to her interviewer and placed the glass back onto the surface before her. “I see.” her lips puckered up for a moment with her gaze intensifying a little more. “If you want something specific from me, High Zeno Masson, you could also just ask for it.” she looked to the hungry cat serving as hourglass prop.
Then she peered down, nodded and seemed to resign herself to something. “I'm afraid. I feel I don't have a place in most of this world - a world I feel I already did a lot for. Even before I became this thing, I was never content with what I was supposed to be. Not so much here, however.” she exhaled loudly from her nostrils and looked Masson right in the eyes. “I'm gonna live a long time as something most will fear and possibly hate. I wanted to ... Find my place. Ersand'Enise is this place. And all these fucking trials - not the games - reminded me that I'm good and decent. Not just some animal to be monitored, made to enforce and put down.”
“Honestly? I want to be an inspiration. I want to be a hero. Being one of the youngest Tan-Zenos and later Zenos in history? A WILDBLOOD to boot? One loved by,” she bit her lip, trying hard to stifle her emotions. “so many, and accepted by even more. It would be a great step up to what I did for the Tethered. That's what I want the most. And I KNOW I'd do a fucking good job.” she let her back sag into her seat a little more, sighing after letting that out. “So, yeah, a bit melodramatic there, again. But that's how I feel. And what I want.”
"All of Oraff's creations are beautiful, Miss Al-Nader." Marigold grew more insistent, as she gently nibbled on his finger. "but now is time. This turned into quite the pleasant conversation after all. Thank you for coming by." He moved to stand up as he approached the door, opening it for the applicant. Marigold decidedly head towards the food bowl was.
“Some far more than others.” Zarina added with a twinge of bitterness. Said bitterness lingered as the exchange met its end. Zarina clenched her dress as her interviewer walked past her to give her the door. She felt she hadn't done enough - not enough to 'wow' anyone.
“The Blood of Saam's beloved courses through me.” she blurted out something she had always believed should have remained secret right before the door opened. And yet here she was, desperate to prove she had value. Zarina stood up, turned and faced Masson. “In a time where you've lost the assets that made Ersand'Enise stand atop the world - Paradigm Hugo and Zenith Claresse - I still chose this school to be the one I pour my hopes and efforts into.”
The Virangish stepped forward toward the door. “And I know my potential can reach their levels with proper guidance-” grooming was a better word, she thought. “I only need the opportunity to truly shine.” she bowed her head and headed for the door. “Thank you for your time, High Zeno Masson.”
And then she looked toward Marigold. “Bon appétit, petit kitty.” she cooed.
Masson smiled as the door as he closed the behind her, "Thank you for your time as well, Miss Al-Nader."
Zarina hovered over the calm, misty waters of the cordoned off deep sea section of the animal farm in search for both solitude but also a reassuring presence. It had been rough the past two weeks and she had just about reached the limits with people in general. The cool sea air reminded her of a time far less complicated.There were very few beasts to disturb her quietude in this section as they all preferred the abyssal depths and artificial trenches made for them.
There was one exception: A pair of black, beady and predatory eyes that emerged from the waters like that of a crocodile, albeit longer. Under them was a large shadow, one big enough to cover the area of a shed. It had been attracted by the familiar presence - prey, it always thought - only for it to float completely immobile once it reached the surface. The tune became familiar after a week. It meant food. And its mistress always provided.
“You’re a big, dumb and menacing piece of work.” she spoke after a breather without ending her tune. “But not vicious. I would even say-” the beast-mistress angled herself to ‘lie’ on her stomach while floating a good twenty feet above the water surface. “Innocent.” she tossed a large slice of tuna into the water, and it slowly sank into the behemoth’s antenna.
The woman that had approached Zarina had laid out the details before her group had been made known. If there was one student in Ersand’Enise to deal with such Behemoths, it was her. The whole conundrum had her wondering what could cause the sudden aggression. The reputation of these threshers lent one to conclude it was the norm but serial strikes on ships was deviant behaviour.
Her mind wandered into the possibilities, but each time she pictured the potential destruction and slaughter an abnormal animal could do, she could only imagine herself and what she would have done to that boy, Fiske, had she not been quelled beforehand. She was going to kill him without paying any credence to his side of the story, much like a beast would. Her eyes hollowed, mind divorced from her surroundings. It took Nu’s stirring, her Bluewater Behemoth, to snap her out of it.
“You’ve had enough.” she decided before dousing the critter with an unpleasant chemical spell to convince it the session was over. “Like clockwork.”
Too many parts of the equation were missing, she figured. These things did not want or revel in glory like humans, nor were they close to intelligent. With a sigh and without a solid hypothesis, Zarina dove into the trenches blind. For now.
The meeting Penny conducted had done its job: They were gathered and Zarina could get a feel for the group. A particular sight had her posture stiffen just a little more.
Yvain. It took a lot of willpower to not just utter that name with disdain. The guy had supposedly humbled himself, but nearly being blasted to death and causing the mess that had burned a few bridges for the teen that only sought to help would understandably leave one sour for some time.
Affiliated. Guy was neither hot nor cold to her. From what she understood between Penny’s recently revealed (to her) status and this guy’s position, he was bound to her. Still, the shady nature of this operation’s premise had any sort of politics make her anxious.
Unknown quantity. She saw the odd interactions between Taleja and Jocasta. Perhaps the most brilliant student of their cohort. Perhaps a mind over emotion was what they would need to crack this.
Good kid. Finally there was Rikard. A powerhouse and known quantity. Smart but a child. The Venomhand’s brains were going to be crucial to keep a plan going.
Princess. A leader, perhaps? Or was she truly the hothead some might have suggested she was? It was either her or Zarina that would realistically take the reigns if personalities were to matter. Given who attended, however, perhaps the old legged royal was the better pick.
And there’s me. Someone’s gotta know what they’re doing, after all.
“Agreed.” Zarina crossed her arms as she regarded Yvain. “Let’s keep the trigger-happiness to a minimum, even when that big thresher is upon us. The smart thing would be to keep it alive to see what’s causing it to go mad. Hopefully without hurting our misguided peers.” her eyes narrowed on Yvain. “Or even our own allies by mistake.”
Out of her messenger bag loaded with supplies emerges the golden head of Biby, the house hippo, fully prepared for a trip. Why did she decide to bring it? One would have to find out, or just ask. The young and smol beast yawned wide and curiously ogled at every moving thing.
“That said, if the port’s in immediate jeopardy, we kill it. Straight up.” Zarina declared, solemnly.
Loadout: Gear: Hetzelburg Homburg, Conquistador’s Gauntlets, Many Moons Armband, a singular silver coin. Currency: Ỽ5 Consumables: Puffchicken Egg Salad with spratz cream coffee. Familiars: Biby
Location: Ersand'Enise Day of the week: Victendes Time: Daytime Characters: Abdel, Dayanara, Qadira, Seviin @Force And Fury, Penny, Johann, Xiuyang @Emeth, Lunara @BlackRoseSiren, Niallus @Echotech71, Oksana @Ti, Ashon, Dory @jasbraq, Fibonacci, shady Zeno.
When it was Abdel’s turn to read the document, he feigned indifference. The name Doridax was well known among the Yasoi and the decently informed. The young tethered had cut back on his part-time investigative endeavours for more spare time once his finances were in order but the connections he had made on the job remained solid.
A rich kid in Belleville. It feels tailored for me. he looked up to give a general glance to his potential associates. All were of a higher class or foreigners. Except perhaps for Ashon whose Yasoi-ness would have its boons, and Seviin should there be any sort of Tarlonese encounter. I’ve got a good hand here. Let’s see where this goes.
“I can check with a couple of guys I know, see if they can give us something more about any unusual activities in Mud- Belleville.” Abdel spoke courteously with a consistent air of neutrality befitting the image he sought to project: Normal and non-partisan. The money was good, but the Doridax name could be a pipeline to things money couldn’t buy. Goods and information alike. He smiled at the others, to Seviin in particular. “But I agree with you, Sister. I think this city is in need of more citizen behaviour. We did put our necks on the line for it.”
With that he turned away from them. “We can meet at that Terrace in a couple of hours and work from there. Gear up and all that until then.” with that, Abdel walked away.
“At least three thousand magi? Really?” a flabbergasted Abdel Varga was sitting before an old table in front of a Thalak souvlaki shop, Zeno Bucks in hand, with a middle-aged gentleman wearing a worker’s beret.
“Not just. I'll I've been sitting on this but I do owe ya' after what you did for my kid.” spoke the man with a husky voice. He leaned in to whisper the next bit. “They’ve taken a few gems that didn’t belong to them from monkey-land.” he snorted and spat by his foot at the mention of anything Yasoi.
Abdel, unfazed by any additions made by his contact, peered at the old parchment piece covered in folds. “And this is legit?”
“Sikes and a few others say they’ve seen some Yasoi kid a few times. As far as I can tell, the kid never made it back over the wall.”
The tethered teen bit the nail of his thumb as he pondered. Their meeting was soon and he had to make a decision. “Wouldn’t hurt to check, then.” he concluded with a shrug before chugging down his drink.
“Hey Cap’n Skugg.” the man that reeked of tobacco reached out for Abdel’s shoulder as he stood up. “With this sort o’ money at play, you may wanna watch your back.” the warning was enough to get the young bounty hunter to sit back down. “It’s bound to get many eyes on it soon. And if you’re going to belleville …” he looked over his shoulder, clearly wary.
“Spit it out, Fibonacci.”
“Watch out for these long-ear Cola-guys. Complete ball-breakers. If they’re not behind it they’ll definitely want a piece of that cake.”
An unimpressed Abdel cocked his brows. “I’ll be sure to watch out.”
Armed with two Skuggvars and an attire that made him appear no different than the average workman’s quarters dred, although with much better hygiene, Abdel presented himself to the residence indicated on the invitation. He instinctively removed his worker’s beret once in view of it, revealing well groomed, dark hair he had combed to the side. His perfume was also of higher quality than his projected look - a Maura perk, perhaps?
The two beasts he had with him dismissed any notion of Abdel being just a common street dweller - this was the hunter with the massive hounds, one that was hard to ignore when he was on duty. “I was told some folks needed a person finder?” was his introduction, one he had used a few times before when he found a job, with a toothy smile that went wonders with his growing acne on his chin.
Loadout: Gear: Hungering Helm, Slayer's Helm, Black Beast's Blade, Unruly Dragon's Bridle, Screamer's Collar, Skuggvar backpacks. Currency: Ỽ1 Consumables: Risotto al Formaggio di Capra di Mare. Familiars: Dayanara, Qadira
It was early in the afternoon following the Trials. The closing ceremony had been a fiasco, with sonic mages drowning out the crowd's whistles and boos with canned applause. Marceline had no love for Perrence and its aggressive brand of nationalism, but they had a right to be angry and, at the end of the day, the academy's corruption had been laid plainly bare for all to see. Then, portals had opened and people had gone home, but not all of them. A solid half had stayed and would be here for at least another couple of days.
Some would be at the party. In fact, almost everyone who was someone would be. That was why she was here, in Zarina's backyard, setting up tables. The pets were playing. The sky threatened rain just enough to make her apprehensive, and that, in turn, was enough to make her forget her greater apprehension. She and Tku had baited the bull during the auction. Juulet would be coming for her at some point. She had all of the pieces ready. Now, she just needed to put them into place and execute the plan. She turned to Zarina. "So, what did we need from The Groove, again?" she asked, "I'm probably gonna head there once the tables are done." She glanced up at the clouds for a moment and then back at her friend.
“Uhh, like, the power to conquer the sun. And maybe some magic wine.” answered Zarina as she was rehearsing the roles of her animals for the party. Always keen on putting the family to work in the traditional Virangish style, it seemed her past experiences were transferable to the education of beasts. “If you can find some helper demon, or somehow bring a small ab here for a quick energy boost, I'm game too. But otherwise? I just need more Champagne, mi hermana.”
Osman's training was paying off, and as Marci was preparing for her departure, a successful delivery of wine and shrimp-on-cream biscotti was made. The confused mollusk had its beady, dark eyes look up to Marci expectantly.
Quickly, still bustling about, Marceline responded in kind to Zarina's teasing remarks. Then, ambushed as she was about to leave, she reached into the little pouch she'd taken to carrying around for Domino and pulled out a treat for Osman. "I guess you've earned this, huh, little guy?" She nodded in Zarina's direction and hurried upstairs, bounding the steps two at a time. It came with an ease and agility she could not have imagined two years prior when it seemed as if she were headed for a short life mostly spent confined to a wheelchair.
She made her way to her desk, caught her breath, and grabbed some paper and a quill. Dipping it in ink, she began writing.
Dear Zarina,
The first thing I want to say is sorry. I'm writing this because I don't know how to say it to your face and I'm worried that you'll try to stop me if I do. You're probably standing outside of our secure deposit box doing the weekly pickup right now. When you get home, we'll talk. Until then, I ask that you listen.
By now, there's a good chance that Juulet is either dead or there was an attempted murder against her. That was me. I didn't do it out of hot-blooded anger or some sense of justice. I didn't ask others, except for Fiske, to get involved, because I didn't want to put them in danger. In this case, the less that you knew, the safer you were. You've... always been the big wing under which I've nestled, the big sister protecting me, ever since we met. I never had a blood sister and you're better than any I could've ever asked for anyhow. I didn't tell you nothing because I don't trust you; I'm telling you now because I do.
This was something personal, though, and if I've been caught, then the consequences are mine alone to bear. In short, she murdered Manfred. It was Juulet. Dami knows she's done all manner of horrible things since. She tried to kill Fiske and, I'm quite certain, Xiuyang too but, first, she was there in Mandelein when Manfred, Ismette, and Qasem died. Dory was the only survivor of that ambush and, irrationally, I suspected her at one point. Then Jocasta confirmed that she'd seen Juulet too. Forgiveness doesn't matter here. It's about the danger that she represents. Juulet is a mad dog who needs to be put down, for our collective safety and because she took Manfred from me.
I know there was some speculation as to why I took the items that I did from The Trials and, hopefully, it's clear now why I did: the magic disruptor because, without the Gift, she's just some skinny one-legged girl with a god complex and twisted black heart, and the twenty-five hour copy of myself so that, if she somehow overcame that, it wouldn't actually be me dying during the ensuing rampage. I'd just have the awful memories from it. Here's hoping that didn't happen. Yes, I'm committing murder. No, I don't do it lightly. Sometimes, bad people need to go away, or be made to, and it doesn't just happen. Good people or, at least, people like me need to do it.
I'm sorry for telling you this way, big sis. I just love you and I was worried you'd try to talk me out of it and I'd listen even though I feel, right now, in my bones so strongly, that she needs to die for what she's done and the threat that she represents. You're just... so good-hearted. You're the best. I mean that, from the bottom of my twisted black little heart.
Love, Marceline Hoh Escarra
With that, she let it dry for a moment, folded it up, and sealed it in an envelope. She grabbed the keys to the box on her way downstairs, offered a cheery wave goodbye, and issued a promise to be back soon with the goodies. Ten minutes later, she'd left the envelope where it would wait until Lepdes. She took a deep breath, turned about, and headed for The Groove.
Zarina stood motionless before the opened letter box she or Marci checked every week or so, although the recent revolution had delayed the habit by a few days. Her eyes were wide, hollow and fixed on the unfolded letter. Her hands became clammy from holding the same position for well over five minutes and her back wasn’t appreciating the posture either. Eventually, as the reality of its contents set into the tired teen’s mind, her hands began to shake and her heart rate skyrocketed.
Marci is Dead.
That was all that rang in Zarina’s mind. That was the only way to explain what had happened. To suffer another loss in which she was completely powerless was utterly devastating.
Once again, she could do nothing to save her sister.
Lethargic, Zarina zoned everything out. The paper fell to her feet and many passersby stared in her direction in silent worry.
Marci cannot be dead.
Her next mantra sprang life back into her paralyzed body. She broke the unspoken convention of keeping temporal magic under wraps and brazenly teleported from to the limit of her range until she reached the one place she knew she could find information on Marceline’s whereabouts.
BONK BONK BONK
The pinkie-side of her fist pounded against the door of the commons dorm many of the Tethered lived in. “IZZY! LUISA! FELIX!” she yelled out with no regard as to how angry she sounded. Dangerous even. If she did not get what she wanted there, she had another, far less pleasant lead to exploit.
While Isabella did not live here anymore, Luisa was home. "Zarina! What is it!?" The door unbolted itself and the door swung open. Her eyes flicked up and down the unexpected visitor for a second or so, her expression one of worry.
Zarina stared at the wheelchair-bound girl that opened the door. She had the attention of the tenants. Now what?
“...” she needed a moment to catch her breath. “Marci ...” the Virangish's voice was meek and gravelly from the exertion. “Do you know where she is?”
For a moment, Luisa studied her, hands moving from her wheels to her lap and fingers threading themselves together. She swallowed. "You think she's dead?" the girl asked with some worry.
Zarina closed her eyes and let her head slump down. “Gods, I hope not, Luisa. But something did happen.” she looked up through her hanging hair toward the girl on two. “Something bad. You don't know where she is, then?” a rhetorical question. She slammed her fist to the door frame, magicless of course. “Fuck. I need to speak to Jo, then.”
"You should," Luisa confirmed. "Listen, Zazz." She took a push forward and reached up to rest a hand on the other's forearm. "I can't just say nothing. I can't leave you in the dark." She shook her head. "I don't know much, okay? Marci... messed with that yasoi maniac - I don't know why - and she lost. She's not alright but she is alive. Jocasta and Izzy have been looking after her."
Answers. All kept from her. It felt like betrayal. Wide eyes shot toward Luisa. “You all knew. Fucking ...” she unleashed steam out of her nostrils as a furious scowl took form on her visage. She really wanted to unleash something, somewhere with Luisa as an easy target. But she had an answer, and the girl looked racked by guilt already.
Wordlessly, Zarina turned around and disappeared. Jocasta's was next with twice as many rude knocks on the door.
There was absolutely no answer.
Zarina grit her teeth. Then, for a moment, she actually used her head. A little drawing was in order.
There was nothing out of the ordinary, and then there was so much energy that it felt as if she was under a thousand feet of water. Jocasta appeared behind Zarina and reached out a hand for her. "Come in. Sit down. Behave," she commanded, "and I will tell you what I am allowed."
Crushed. Utterly so. That was the almighty power of Jocasta.
The respect Zarina had for this woman was immense, but it would never be enough to pardon the condescension she felt in this moment. The angered wildblood had been forcibly pacified, but a look of resentment couldn't be so easily scrubbed off her visage. Still, she took the hand and found the nearest seat to compose herself after taking the Jojo blast.
“Where is she?” she asked plainly, slumped forward with her arms rested over her knees and her chest still heaving.
"Safe from prying eyes, where she needs to be right now. Where she's asked to be." Jocasta answered simply. "I'm sorry you weren't told. The world's been a bit crazy this last week and... she's struggling."
“Prying eyes? Ya'hma. I'm not just some random prying eyes, Jo.” responded Zarina, indignant. “What the fuck happened?”
Jocasta sighed, opening the door and floating in ahead of Zarina until she was seated in her wheelchair once again. "She made a twenty-five hour copy, but those things are exactly alike, down to clothing, thoughts, and impulses. I wasn't aware either until I'd checked." She pursed her lips and set hands to wheels, twisting halfway to head for the dining room. "I think she was convinced that she was the copy. She had a plan. It went awry. Here we are."
Zarina shook her head. The explanation did not make her feel any better. “I want to see her.” she demanded. “I want to be there for her. I need to, Jo.” she looked up to the Tan-Zeno with a mixture of immense frustration and growing desperation.
"First, Zarina, come here." She turned back and held out her arms for an embrace. "I'm sorry for the sudden crush. You were roiling with energy and anger and..." She paused. "I can't take chances anymore." She waved Zarina in with her hands. "Hug me. I need it too. Then we'll talk, okay?"
The anger was still there. It was painful to keep it all in. The hesitation to come in for the hug spoke volumes of how she truly felt.
But she still went in, her long arms coiling around the seat-bound blonde and lifted her slightly for a tight embrace. “I'm sorry.” she whispered, mouth and nose buried into Jocasta's shoulder.
"I'm sorry too, Zazzy." She squeezed tightly for a moment and sighed before releasing her friend. "I was scared." She backed up a push and turned. "Follow me. We walk and talk." She glanced over her shoulder. "Marceline doesn't want to see you." She held up a hand to forestall immediate protest. "It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with her." She shrugged tightly. "She barely wants to see me."
Zarina walked with her friend and listened. She kept her head lowered and her eyes narrowed slightly. She focused on every piece of information, and after clarifications and corrections, she found something to pick at. “But you still see her.” she said, bitterly. “So does Izzy. Why can't I see her? Even once?”
Jocasta took a deep breath and, all at once, she whirled on the spot. She stared up at Zarina, a dozen emotions flashing across her face. "She was forced to overdraw." She glanced down sadly at her lap. "You know what that does to tethered, and she is a tethered, whether she wants to admit it or not."
Zarina stopped and looked down to meets eyes with Jocasta. “You lose yourself faster.” she confirmed, arms crossed. “If you're all doing this then it's much worse than the feet getting prickly.” she clenched her fists and shook her head. “Doesn't change shit, I wanna be there for her. Same way you were.”
Jocasta took a deep breath and released it, her face regretful. She nodded. "She's..." She glanced to the side and her fingers squeezed the folds of her dress so tightly that it bunched up. Her gaze shot up to meet Zarina's. "Like me now, Zarina. She's on two and there's no reversing it and it's ruined her."
Confronted with the severity of the situation, she stood adamant with only her breathing getting louder - heavier. “... All the reason for her sister to be there.” she turned and began to walk again, stone cold and clearly bottling a lot inside. “Then I'll find that little rat that didn't stop her.” she muttered with unadulterated rage in her voice.
"Zarina," came Jocasta's voice from behind her, "Do you love Marci?"
Zarina stopped again. “Of course.”
"And so do I." Jocasta rolled up behind her. "Do you trust our sister?
Zarina exhaled loudly. “After this? I don't know.”
"Do you trust me, sister?"
“I do.” Zarina spoke with more confidence. “I always did.”
"Then listen to me, okay? Losing half of your body like this -" She ran the edge of her hand across her tiny waist. "Is like nothing you can imagine. It's not just the inability to walk, but basic, bedrock things: your independence as a person, your sense of what makes you... you, your vision of the future and what your life will look like, the way you know other people see you and how you're always the one who's different, lower, pitied."
She shook her head. "Zarina, I use the Gift to turn myself over in bed and lift my rear off of my seat every hour so that my bones don't poke holes through my skin." She swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself. "And when I forget and they do, or when I break one of those brittle, weak things, like I have at least thrice since we met, I use binding to put myself back together." She grimaced. "But I don't even feel it right away - not until I check every few hours or until I start swelling up. And then there's the pain in my back: constant and agonizing from sitting all day, or how I have to cool or heat myself constantly because my body can't do it." Her face became awkward, disgusted. "I would piss myself and shit myself were it not for the Gift and how I was taught to use it to assist with those... matters."
Her cheeks flushed red and, after a moment her eyes flicked up to regard her friend. "Those are things people on four don't know, because they don't see them and we tethered don't talk about them. They're things that Marci is coming to terms with, learning her way around." She shook her head a second time. "I shouldn't even be saying this, but I need you to understand that this isn't about you. It's about her shame, her vulnerability, and her embarrassment." There was a weak shrug. "She needs time. She needs space. She needs to find her own answers." Jocasta swallowed. "Around us, she's 'normal'. She has people who know what she's going through, who can help her learn, who she feels won't judge." She held up a hand again. "I know you won't, but it's perception that matters here and not reality. She loves you, but she can't face you. She can barely face us as it is, so I am asking you, my best friend, to back off - please - for her and for me."
The restless Zarina grew ever more frustrated with not getting what she wanted. All that mattered was finding Marci, no matter what she had become, and be there for her. Because she was her sister. And she'd move the world for a sister.
But the reality of the situation unfolded right before her under the form of the woman she respected the most. Jocasta's accursed state of existence was the living proof she needed. Zaz's restless legs came to a stop, and eventually she let her rear drop onto the nearest convenient surface. “I let this happen. I was so up my own ass handling that Dami-forsaken party to pay attention.” she wallowed in guilt, jaw clenched and fingers pressed against her skull.
“I may not understand, Jo, but you know, right?” she looked up to her Tethered teacher and best friend. “You know I'd do anything for you guys, right? I'd stake my life for you, especially for Marci.” she shook her head and clenched her fist enough to have her partially mutated claws to dig into her palm. “I won't force myself into her life. If she's that determined to cope this way, then I'll respect it. But I ain't gonna do nothing.” the head shaking increased as blood trickled down her pierced hands. “That pathetic rat of a boyfriend of her's - he's fucking done.”
"We needed that party, Zarina." Jocasta was implacable. "Dare I say it may have saved lives." She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, but twisted back, thinking better of it. "And I know how much you care. That's why I both trust you with my very life and know that you need tempering sometimes." Jocasta's voice became firm. "Fiske is a fool and I'm no fan of him either but, if you care for Marci as I do, you know her well enough to know that she'd have done it with or without him and she'd not have been stopped." Jocasta sighed, casting another tired glance over her shoulder. She threaded and unthreaded her fingers in her lap. "She was riding a high: win after win - and starting to believe in the myth of her own invulnerability; the infallibility of her own genius." She locked eyes with Zarina, searchingly.
With no target to direct her grief and rage, Zarina shifted her gaze with a focus on keeping it toward the floor. The unhealthy clenching did not cease and the breathing only got heavier. “You're far too accepting of this situation, Jocasta.” spoke Zarina with unshaken resolve in unleashing her anger as she met Jo's eyes. The damaged palms had already healed, leaving only rapidly congealing blood on her hands. “WE could have stopped her. WE could have changed this, you and me!”
The angry teen seemed to be looking for something, and after failing to find anything to put in her hand, she stood up and mercilessly stomped the chair she sat on. She really need to break something in a tantrum. “FUCK! That sack of shit could have opened his cocksucking mouth! SOMETHING had to be done! I could have DONE something!” and after a show of brutality and releasing far more anger than stemmed just from this specific predicament, she fell on her rear and his her eyes. She was crying.
Jocasta reached down and swung her feet from their footrest. No sooner had they thumped limply upon the floor than she had pushed herself to perch at the edge of seat. Clumsily, she levered herself onto the ground beside Zarina, wrapping both arms around her from the side. "Feels unsatisfying, doesn't it?" she admitted. "Fuck, I know it does." Idly, she stroked Zarina's hair, combing some of the tangles out of it, but she wasn't as gentle as she might've been had not some anger sparked inside of her as well. "Would be so much easier to hurt someone for this and, for the record, I swear to you that I will rip Juulet limb from fucking limb." She squeezed a bit tighter and, even without magic, her arms were strong. Then, she pulled back.
"But Marci's alive. She survived something that, by all rights, should've killed her. You know I haven't sugarcoated any of what comes next, but we tethered have the Gift. We can manage, and she will too. Just... be ready for her. Don't treat her any differently when she's back but don't like... avoid it: her... disability." Jocasta shrugged awkwardly. "It's not always an easy balance to strike, but I think you'll get it." She managed a supportive smile. "You have a way with people, and it's just Marci, after all: cute lil' shit that she is."
Sitting beside Zarina, Jocasta straightened, pushing her bottom off of the floor for a few seconds. "At the end of the day, she's her own person and made her own poor decisions. The past few days, when I haven't been busy risking my neck for some change around this place, I've been watching over her, and everything that's run through your head, well... It's run through mine too." She shrugged. "I've gone over what I could've done differently so many times I've lost count. I've thought of smashing Fiske's face in for not stopping her. I've been angry at you, to be honest, but this is nobody's fault but hers, much as we both love her, and that evil bitch Juulet's."
Jocasta sighed, nervously tucking some hair behind an ear. "I know I maybe sound insensitive or apathetic. I'm sorry if I'm not validating your rage well. We all need that. I've just... had longer to think at this point and come out on the other side of it. She took a deep breath and released it. "Ahn-Dami punished Marci for a mistake, but Vyshta spared her life." She posted her weight on one arm and leaned to the side. "Our sister will be okay. She isn't right now - she feels stupid, broken, and shocked - but she will be, I promise, and she'll come back to us. She'll come back to you. I trust that little Brandæble. She'll sort it out. Okay?"
Copious amounts of sobs, tears and snot had to be go through before Zarina composed herself. Jocasta's delicate handling of the situation paid off, even if time was the biggest actor in making the young dragon run out of energy to spare for wallowing. She had held onto her blonde friend quite tightly until they were made to part.
Brushing her face from the unflattering mess of mucus and dried tears, she looked up to Jo with red and still quite damp eyes. “Fuck, I'm a moron.” she spoke like there was something stuck in her throat. “I was gonna do the exact thing she did. Take out my rage on someone and have it backfire somehow.” she shook her head while aggressively rubbing her left eye with the bottom of her palm. Sniffles. “I just wanna see her, y'know? It's ... It's a lot, after everything that's happened.”
The still whimpering teen reached her hand out to hold Jocasta's without ever pulling her in. It was merely to have a connection with someone - to feel someone she trusted. “I can't lose more. Not after Miret, and Tommy, and now Marci ... Even if it's not forever.” she clenched the hand just a little. “It's why I'm asking you to not go after that psycho. If she comes for us, we'll deal with it. But ...” her second hand cupped the back of Jo's hand. “I don't want to lose more people that I cherish. Especially not for wretched nations, old power mongers or foreign monsters.”
Jocasta didn't quite know what to do, so she simply hugged back. When they finally separated, she breathed deeply, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and forced a reassuring smile. "I'll speak with her, when she's up to it. For what it's worth, I agree that it isn't healthy for her to be shutting everyone out like this. I think she'll come around soon, even if we don't exactly see her around campus for a bit." Jocasta shrugged. "It's just a big adjustment - a lot to learn."
For a moment, they lingered there in silence. Then, came the second part. "I'm a target as long as I live, Zaz. That's the nature of it." She sighed nervously. "But I can promise that I'll never make any unnecessary enemies. My wild days are done. I'm with you. Okay?"
fter a few deep breaths, Zarina appeared to be coming to. There even was a trace of a smile when she looked back into Jocasta's eyes. “I won't lie, I kinda need her too. I don't have the patience to keep Zeno Bucks family friendly on my own.” she partially joked after a loud sniff. “She'll be in my prayers until she's ready.”
The Virangish then reached for the back of Jocasta's head, just over the nape and pulled her in. Their foreheads met before she spoke. “Then when danger steps into our home, we all face it together, yeah? Nothing good ever comes when we wanna bear all those burdens like fairy tale heroes, habibi.” she turned her head slightly and smooched her sensei's cheek. “Thanks for being the voice I needed. I'd be lost and do something terrible otherwise.” she beamed a genuine grin at Jo. “Remember, I'll always be on your side. Just like I promised back in Torragon.”
Jocasta returned the small kiss, though she blushed considerably. She gave a small nod to go with it. "I know you will." She breathed. "I know and you have no idea how much it helps to have that." She smiled back. "But I never want you to risk yourself for me, okay?" She swallowed. "You and Marci, Ayla, and Yalen: you're good people with bright futures. We stand together -"
She snorted at the irony of her word choice, but then continued. "If anyone comes to hurt you guys, but I won't have you go out of your way and risk yourself for the monsters who come for me. They're on a whole different level." She pulled back a bit and flexed her rather impressive biceps. "But I'm pretty strong, you know. Right?" She smiled and reached forward, placing her hands on each of Zarina's shoulders. "What I need most is your support, your belief, and to know that you're safe." She slumped back a bit and sighed. "The Gods crafted me as I am for a reason - I have to believe it. There's no two ways about it: I stand out and I'm not about to let that strength go to waste. I'll be the next Hugo Hunghorasz if that's what's needed, and I'll do better than he ever did." A determined look came over her face. "Fairytale time, suunei!"
“Fairy tale time, Sensei!” dragon Zarina just smirked at her. “... I'll get you a new chair, promise.”
The Trials had finally ended. What was a simple, action-packed week felt like months to some, but it was all worth it for the big top ten (and then some) as they claimed their prizes and bid generously during the auction. Zarina’s invite punctuated this chapter of their lives with what was hoped to be a positive note and she was still hopeful despite the very recent developments and accelerated tensions. There would be no such things during this homebrewed gala. When 1:00 HD hit, the party officially begun.
“Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!”
At the main entrance door that remained open during the whole evening was none other than Horus wearing a hat similar to Zarina’s Homburg. A popular face and voice to greet the guests, with hats and other items gathered by the short but conveniently dextrous young Monkeybird to be stored in one of the nearby closets. The house had been arranged to accommodate for an influx of people, with tables added to the drawing room decorated with many appetisers. But the bulk of the activity was actually in the yard where three rows of tables were set with more foods and drinks aplenty.
Ellermane Bleu, courtesy of Desmond’s catering, was the main alcoholic beverage to go with the bite sized goods on the tables, but soon came a butt of Hegelan-approved beer to be set by the archway between the indoors and outdoors. Maat, the second and more colorful Monkeybird, made sure to tend to the nozzle.
““More? More? MOOOOORE! SLURP!””
Then came Osman, the newcomer land octopus carrying trays of biscottis with cream and shrimp as well as glasses of Meattu champagne. His tentacles stretched out to reach for finished glasses to switch them with a newly filled one. A brilliant server, to be sure, even if it couldn’t quite grasp any sort of order, it knew when to take an item and when not to.
Zarina, clad in a brilliant gold dress of both Virangish and Torragonese inspiration and long trumpet sleeves, was playing the role of host to a T, making sure to greet as many guests as possible with the usual politeness and pleasantries - even to those she didn’t quite remember. Big smiles, loads of energy, and an offering of expensive drinks to keep the mood up were her go-tos. Oh, and of course, she wouldn’t hesitate to show off her fancy new House Hippo in her handbag. The little critter was a tad overwhelmed, but also found itself consistently fed.
Technically Correct had arrived precisely on time, finding Johann to be one of the earliest arrivals to help the hostess prepare for the evening. Others such as Ayla, Ashon, Marceline and Kaureerah were there from the start by virtue of actually living there. And the Zeno Bucks staff worked to keep the dishes coming and the venue clean (as well as helping the animals/mascots).
The Soul Sisters were expected to arrive soon with a whole stage prepared out back dedicated to them and all other performers. Until then, Gonzalo, the barista stationed in the Workman’s Quarter, was the tune of the evening with his Laud, along with his troupe of merry musicians. There wasn’t a minute with some music.
Welcome to the Trials End Party at Zarina’s! Feel free to enjoy, reach out to people, do your own little skits for entertainment and so on! This is an opportunity to exchange with friends, new or old, before the world makes this difficult for you. Ellermane Bleu effects apply to all those who drink it.
At the precise moment where Jocasta had undone her spell, Zarina joined the trio to greet them like she had done almost every other guest so far. Although this pairing had been one she was hoping to exchange with for a long while now. The signs of temporal tampering were there, but she had long since made it a point of not prying on the sensei's decisions and machinations - she figured some alone time was needed, and there was little she could do if violence happened regardless.
“Well if it isn't our ambitious social climber.” the hostess greeted with some good humour snark, arms open to hug both Yalen and Jocasta. “It's great to see you two, truly. Honestly,” she looked at Jocasta in particular. “I was starting to miss that resting bitch face - with respects of course, sensei.” a devious-Jocasta smirk took form on her visage. “Really, though, I'm glad you're here. Wouldn't be a party without one of my besties.” that smirk quickly turned into something more of a genuine smile. “Ellermane? Or Champagne?”
"It would appear I've already had my fill," Jocasta replied, placing the empty glass down and shaking her head with a rueful smile. "It's good to see you too, Zarina. It's good to see you this... glowing, and in the right kind of way." For a moment, she underwent a tiny crisis. She'd let Taleja have her riposte. Such the better to put her at ease for later. Them having a short but seemingly pleasant engagement during the party would allay suspicions. It might look like unrest, like some attack based on class or nation or whatever else people had decided to kill each other for these days.
Then, Zarina was there, however: a friend, and she thought she might get it off her chest. She thought she might tell a truth and confess a fear. Yet... had they really been friends these past few months? They had no classes together, they had little free time for each other. They were still pleasant enough when they happened to meet, of course, and she would always be grateful for what the Virangishwoman had done for her, alongside Ayla and the others, but it was mostly the business of stopping a Zarina-dragon from rampaging about the city when transformed that brought them together these days.
It all added up to an inescapable feeling that this was her swansong with these people. She moved about a different sphere now, different circles. "Well, enough about me. Ipte knows all people have been doing is congratulating us on the marriage since we've arrived."
Yalen, tossing back another drink, nodded wearily.
"Stop drinking so much, you. I'm not giving you a ride home again, you know." She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Anyhow, should I be throwing my bouquet straight to you after the whole thing?" She smirked, eyes catching a glimpse of Miret int he distance. She arched a brow suggestively.
Zarina furrowed her eyebrows at the comment made by Jocasta. It took her a few seconds to connect the dots, and it took her following Jocasta's gaze to realize. When her eyes inevitably met Miret's, she quickly turned back like a pre-teen on a first crush. “I've noooo idea what you're talking about.” there was a perfect mixture of both over-the-top humor and a genuine attempt at denial. There was no hiding from Jocasta, but then again Zarina was one to kid herself more often than naught. “Just just a good friend.” she canted her head to the side. “A very tactile, cuddly and flirty friend.” her voice degraded quickly into a whisper.
She shook her head. “I don't think those Tarlon-types believe in these ceremonies anyway. Even with their more open minds with ...” she pursed her lips, just realizing what she was about to say. This wasn't something she was ready to accent despite everything. It still wasn't entirely right. And so, reality easily settled in. “You know how it is with them. It's ... I'm not fooling myself.”
Jocasta smiled in understanding. "Well, come what may, enjoy the ride, whether it lasts another hundred days or hundred years, right?"
Yalen grimaced. "Darling," he cut in, "since when have you been this sentimental?"
"Since you, ya big teddy bear!" Jocasta twisted about on the spot. "Oh, you have to bring her here, you know!" she told Zarina, "Or I shall go find her myself!"
Zarina took a heart chug of her wine. “Right. That's one way to see it.” she said, lukewarm about the notion, but she flashed her friends a reassuring smile afterwards. She was, overall, happy and they could see it. “Looking handsome, by the way, Yalen.” she flashed him a cheeky wink.
Then, she lowed her head and tapped her forehead to the edge of her glass. “For Eshi's sake, Jo ...” she mumbled, cheeks reddened. “Okay, y'know what? Sure. I want my friends to be friends too.” she uttered with total cope and her features stressed to the point of being quite red. Twisting as well, she called out. “Luuchy! Hey!” she gestured for the Yasoi to come. “I wanna introduce ya'. Tyrel too, if she wants!”
"They all say that now that I'm about to be married," the little blonde man sighed, and his significant other's mouth fell agape in mock horror. "Oh, you little bastard!" she chided.
Then, Zarina was calling the others over. Miret made her way there. "You call me that one more time, I'll..." She trailed off. "Oh, is this your zeno friend? The one who swatted the fly?" she exclaimed suddenly.
“Or you'll what? Hmm?” and suddenly, Zarina felt her hostess ease return. Her shoulder brushed up against Miret's shoulder, and the glimpses she shot at the Yasoi said it all about the level of passion she felt for the girl. “Luuchy.” she said, provocatively.
“Tan-Zeno. But, yes, this is Jocasta. My Sensei and good friend.” she gestured toward the first blonde. “And Yalen, her fiancé and a close friend too.” then, she reached for Miret's shoulder. “And this, my friends, is the biggest Luuchy in the world. Also known as Miret'thilan'dichora.”
"Sensei!" Miret snorted. "So you're Nikanese now?" She punched Zarina in the shoulder.
"Oh, it was my awful idea. I'd just read a whole bunch of Nikanese things around the time."
Nonetheless, they shook hands and seemed to have taken to each other. Yalen was introduced as well. "You know," said Jocasta after a couple more minutes of smalltalk, "we should um... do something sometime, the whole gang, like we used to. Maybe next Victendes assuming this place doesn't tear itself apart before then, huh?"
Jocasta, in agreement, let her go with a fond farewell. "See," Yalen's voice could be heard saying, "I told you this was a good idea."
Marz slowly made his way over to Zarina, he was in some more formal attire, well, what is known to be formal for hegelans. A large shirt of multiple layers of vibrant and gorgeous colors, each layer of different fabrics to give a form of depth and from his own occupations, a had a large leather belt which had multiple golden inlaid rings which each one denoted a form of mastery over a craft. For Marz, he had been recognized as AA quality in over 10 different skills of craft, with a center platinum ring with a ruby inset which denoted his recognition in the creation of his first great work. One that could denote his legacy, a master work
The moment Marz made his way to Zarina he said in a quiet almost sheepish voice, "Great party". Marz couldn't find much else to say, most others here seemed almost so consumed in their own existance and those they are speaking to he feels nothing he could say or do would even register with them.
Zarina had Fiske in her sights, tucked deep within the mass of people she had graciously let in her home. Her amber hues did not leave his lithe form, with Miret in tow if she decided to keep up with her luush'elar. There was, however, a voice so small and sheepish, that it somehow got her attention more than the ceaseless laughters and obnoxiously loud exchanges. Surely she had hallucinated this!
And yet there he was, Marz the gruff and hardened expert smith and supposed ruffian. Looking fabulous and also shy. Taken aback, Zarina had lost track of the rat in her home, and now she had a new object of intrigue. “Oh. Why, thank you!” chiped a jolly Zazzy, confident in keeping her hostess persona going despite her mild worries. “Glad you could make it. I was getting worried we brought the beer keg for nothing.” she remarked with mild snark, arms crossed and a fat grin on her face. “Or, maybe just maybe,” complicit and certainly devious, she bended over a little to approach the bearded man's height with a smirk. “You actually have a soft spot for the more refined and delicate delights, hmm?”
Miret came up from behind and leaned upon Zarina's shoulder. "Hey Marz," she said with a smile. It was an innocent enough greeting on the surface.
Marz was mostly sheepish, just listening, for a moment it seemed he at least found some ground, possibly to even find something to talk about...
"Ahh-" Marz was then taken aback when Zarina started to poke at him. His teeth gritted as he looked to her with a flustered face, "-are you calling me soft!"
Marz was flustered by such accusations, the poutiness that is worn on his face told of Marz' true age. That he too was just a young man, even with his rougher demenor and gruff self, he too was just like those around him, in the peak of his youth.
“Yes.” Zarina said without a moment's hesitation. “Soft and silky from what I see, Dami's damn beard!” her eyes focused on the beard in question, so well kept and matching Ayla's incredible mane. “I can see why so many googly-eyed ladies walk into your workshop.” she snickered, back straightened as she regained her regular height. “But soft doesn't mean weak. You can be a mighty, black dragon with flames that devour all for centuries, and still have the softest of underbellies.” she commented as she swiped a couple of wine glasses from Osman's tray with one offered to the Hegelan. “To good health, women, and soft, lovely bellies, yeah?”
With the jolly moment, Zarina didn't stop with just pointless small talk. There was a rare genius crafter in her gala, and they hardly had the chance to exchange. Perhaps diving into his preferred subjects would be of intrigue. “Beards aside, I also heard you make quite the tale-worthy scythe. Am I to believe I'm talking to a legend in the making akin the stories of Tagemitsu Kenshin?”
Miret leaned in and nodded. "When the war happens, what side are ya gonna join?" she asked Marz. "You know they'll both make you offers."
Marz was taken aback once more Zarina seemed to almost speak in such a way to complement and still make fun of him at the same time, much like the many Skalds he had worked with on projects before.
And even when the drinks were brought all he could do was raise it and say, "Ah...Aye, to soft erm bellies". Marz then took a drink as soon he was asked about his work.
A gleam lot up in Marz eye as he said, "Aye! She was a beauty, a gorgeous scythe which held was a craft I could say was one of my best to date. But in my opinion, it is going to be the worst of my legacy". Marz said with a laugh.
Marz then turned to Miret, a topic which he didn't think much about, "I, ah, I'm unsure. I haven'thad much thoughts on such ideas. As strange as it maybe".
Marz gets lost in thought as he swirls the wine in his glass as he speaks, "A smith makes arms, tools that people use to fight. Simple as is, they arm those to kill others. But I never thoight about which side to choose. My time within thi land has been short, and truthfully I'm unsure where some of the people I even know will go. The strange nature of this lands and it's dealings with each other makes it seem almost impossible for me to even know where they will even go".
Zarina shot a look of disapproval at Miret. “Miret,” she spoke while foregoing the compulsory Luuchy. “I don't think we should be discussing camps to choose in a time where we get to not have to do any of that.” she semi-scolded her luush'elar, only to then convey a contradictory message by tugging her closer by wrapping her arm around the Yasoi's waist.
“You don't have to think about that, Marz. It's fine.” she flashed a less playful smile at the Hegelan. “And, don't worry too much about how good the first one is - I assume it's your first big weapon project anyway. It has a special place as, well,” she looked to Miret, as if addressing her too. “your first. In some way, even if totally inexplicable, it'll be unbeatable.”
Marz gave a light nod, "Aye", clear thought that this was not place to think sides of what is to break this hall apart. Just more simpler talks.
Marz casted his gaze back to the girls, "Aye, the first, even if the worst, is where it all starts".
"No matter where she goes or what hands she lands into, no matter what else I make, what I know is that she was where it all started". An unworried face sat upon Marz as he then perked up.
"Oh! I did wish to come to you as well, I've noticed that you don't wield a weapon. Is there a reason?"
Miret blushed. "Come 'ere, you. I get the double meaning!" She twisted to face Marz. "Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bring it up but, like... shucks, everyone's thinking about it." She held up a hand. "I'll stop, luuchy. Don't worry. I will."
Then, Marz addressed Zarina and Miret leapt back. "Ooooh, He's gonna make one for ya!" she teased. "He's gonna do it! He's gonna doggone do it!"
Zarina to keep a stern face toward Miret - not a very good one, she wore her emotions far too easily - but eventually giggled and dropped her forehead onto Miret's shoulder. “I'm Luuchy too, now? Darn it.” and with that came a very quick and inconspicuous smooch on that same shoulder. “I trust you.”
She straightened herself, yet again, and brush her straight, brown hair back over her hairs after all that leaning and moving. “Ah, you've noticed, huh? Well,” she passed her hand through her hair again, letting the strands flow between her fingers as she pondered. “If we discount the times where opportunities were snatched under my nose ... I suppose it never was my priority to, like,” Zarina was never good with words, and keeping things agreeable with others - to not offend them - sometimes made it a hurdle for her. “make weapons to harm people. Hence why I have a shield.” she shrugged.
But then, after a somewhat glum look; she continued. “I'm not some cushy idealist, however. I know I need one. But at that point, I'd only settle for something that could contend with the worst horrors of this world. I've no interest in more efficient ways to butcher fellow men by the hundreds.” Zarina smirked, as her golden hippo poked its head out of her handbag. “Now if you're offering to make such a thing ...”
Marz nodded as he listened to Zarina, taking in her thoughts, ideas, and even feelings. Marz listened with great interest as he finally said, "Yes, I am offering to make you a weapon".
Marz nodded his head as he began to think, "No cushy ideals, yet in the same, less than pragmatic. Something to fight the worst of things".
Marz put his hand to his chin as he seemed to go deeper in thought, "Yet, not anything normal, weapons that are normally just to kill in the normal sense. This needs to be different, yet efficent".
Marz nodded to himself as he continued, "One for battle, not for war.".
Marz then smiled to himself as he continued, "Yes. Yes, I think this is a good one. A real challenge in it's own right".
Marz looked to Zarina and declaired, "Yes. I will make you a weapon like no other. A weapon, that shall do what you wish it to and need of it. To fight what needs to be fought, to spill blood when blood needs to be spilled, and nowhere else".
Zarina started off deadpan, letting the Hegelan dive deep into his musings. But as it went on, she couldn't help but appear amused. “My, keep this up and I'll have to pay an hourly fee.” she chuckled, hand squeezing Miret's side. The tip of her tongue tapped against the back of her teeth, prompting a little popping noise. “Don't lose your mind over the details. I am a person who can choose. Any sword can be brandished or left in the sheath and that will determine whether I will kill with it or not.”
But then, she thought for a moment, and then giggled. “But then again, if you wish to make something extraordinary, who am I to give leeway and shortcuts?” she reached out to the shorter man, digits keen on dragging through the puffed up and glorious chin-mane of his. “So long as you swear it is made with the genuine passion of the next great creator, then I will humbly accept it regardless of its form.”
A moment passed and she shook her head, snickering in light shame. “Gods, I sound so over-the-top. But, fuck it, I'm a bitch for epic things. You'll get to see a big, fucking angry dragon with your masterpiece. And Tku will draw it.” she jested, partially, before leaning closer again, fingers since retreated back. “I appreciate the thoughtfulness. Tuna?” she had a near-perfect timing with the swiping of the dish being carried by Osman who had just bee passing by. It was presented right before the Hegelan.
Marz nodded, his eyes were calm, he didn't react or even flinch to the touching, the once meek man hiding away in his own clothing was no more. Marz stood as he always did, tall and strong, as he nodded, "Aye. I make nothing without putting my everything into it. If I didn't then I wouldn't be Marz Mohfolk".
Marz let out a light laugh, one after being told of the great picture he would see with Zarina holding his weapon, "I think I would love nothing more than to see my weapon held in such a display".
Marz was then almost seemingly cut down a slight bit with Zarina switch back to a host and offering him some morsel to eat, "Oh, uhm, y-yes, I would like some, uh-th...thank you.".
Zarina produced a mild, 'cool' grin with her eyes half-lidded once Marz reverted back to what appeared like a shier demeanour. “As the Perrench say: Bon Appétit.” she bowed her head graciously.
Then her attention went to the rest of the party. Most were receiving their main meals that they could either get delivered, or take from the buffet. “You know,” she spoke up again, despite her words and actions suggestion a finality to their exchange. “we speak of sides but ... Why not simply create for the good folks here? We might fight for our country, but would we brandish our weapons against each other, as individuals, when we bear the same mark of Marz Mohfolk on our weapons?” she mused. “Your creations do not just have to be weapons of war, they could also unite us - a generation that can do better.”
The hostess' eyes landed upon Desmond, first. “This man, for instance, one of the greatest warriors I've known. Great guy too. He can make his own weapons, that I'm certain, but I'm sure even a gunman would need a quality hand-to-hand weapon from time to time.” then, she shifted toward Ingrid. “And here's a girl that rustles the hornet's nest, and earns quite a bit of ire from her impulsion. But ultimately, Ingy's a good woman. She too could be magnificent and bring greatness with such a masterpiece.” then, finally, her eyes landed back onto Marz. “What I'm essentially saying is - don't stop with me. We can continue what this soirée started well beyond its time, even in the worst times of war.” she smiled, warmly, and looked to her Luuchy. “Hells, even this little Luuchy could use something to remind her of her favourite Yanii.”
Marz began to nod as he listened and thought, upon what was being said, "A generation that can do better".
Marz continued to think as a smile came onto his face, "That, sounds like a true craft. Crafting not just with a set of hands that are my own, but through bonds...yeah".
Marz nodded to Zarina, "Aye, I like the sound of it. Something that can be seen by all, not just those who are the receiver of it".
Marz continues to nod, his smile growing as his mind begins to be filled with ideas now in his own mind.
The Hours of Dami ticked over into Ipté: a time when most not engaged in either acts of love or acts unlawful were fast asleep. The hired musicians had since gone home, but there were a handful among the remaining wakeful students who were well-acquainted with music. These remnants and their friends danced slowly, sat around tables in semi-drunken discussion, and helped those who'd had a bit too much to drink settle themselves in for the night. Others staggered home under their own power, careful to go through the Parade Gate and not risk the Seagate and its desperate masses of refugees.
Soft, slow music wafted into the night, accompanied by the odd burst of laughter, the clatter of glasses and plates being gathered up, and the distant backdrop of frogs and crickets in the Border Wood. It all seemed to be winding down: the students' own perfect ending to an imperfect Trials, initiated and carried out by themselves without any help from those older and putatively wiser.
Into this scene of burgeoning serenity grew a new noise, however, threatening its tentative existence: armoured footsteps, marching in file; the orange flicker of torches in the night. Most didn't notice these. They were either busy, lazy, or drunk. Then, came the knocking on the door: three beats, firm and authoritative. Two Centuries stood outside of the door, accompanied by a hooded figure who appeared to be a Zeno and four city guards.
They waited.
Ten seconds had passed. They knocked again, just as firmly.
The Soirée's peaks had been reached after Magnificent Green's display of talent and exaggerated sense of triumph. The guests loved him and the hostess appeared to be in on the joke. Or was it truly an act of improvisation? It almost seemed too good. Zarina had since hopped off the stage, leaving those that wished to play to do so as the late hours settled in quickly.
Many of the animals had since retired in her room - forbidden to all guests - as did many other guests, either finding their ways home or using one of the hostess' unused rooms to 'settle down'. She knew this was inevitable and took it upon herself to stay awake until the party was definitively finished.
The urge to dance was still strong. She knew, despite the avoidance of the subject, that she would not see her lover too often after this. Nor would Miret ever be her's the same way she's been in this honeymoon phase. But maybe she could still bask in the illusion of being special for a little longer. The wine she ingested in very frequent intervals were telling her yes. But just before she could commit to any decision, a set of three loud knocks from the closed entrance door caught her attention.
Uncertain of what to expect given the hours and the lack of noise, she approached at a brisk pace but cautiously extended her hand to open it. It was during this hesitation that the knocks started again, prompting Zarina to jump. “Coming, coming.” she announced.
Deep breaths. She opened the door and regarded the gathering of seven individuals. Surprised but composed, she shot them an expectant look. “Good eve- Errr, hello.” she spoke, calm with her attention on the conspicuously distinct zeno. “Can I help you?”
"Zarina." the Zeno flipped back her hood. She was Sienna Afraval and she appeared nothing if not apologetic. She tried to force a smile, happy to see a favourite student, but it died quickly. "I've been sent on authority of the Wise Council." The two Centuries were recognizable as well. Mareceline padded up softly behind Zarina. "Jurgen?" she asked tentatively. The other was Collette. She received a stiff nod from the first.
"Don't worry. You're not in any trouble, for what it's worth," Zeno Afraval assured them with a sad shake of her head. "We're here to escort one of your guests to the Violet Enclave for questioning on yesterday's.... incident." She appeared distinctly uncomfortable, even as her eyes roved across the inside of the house with a light of curiosity and even amusement. "I don't - I've been told it shouldn't take long." She shook her head. Collette, as well, could be seen glancing inside. Whatever wry comment she might normally have made was held in, however. "It's all..." Her eyes darted towards the floor, avoiding Zarina's. "All procedural."
It was abundantly clear that the people they had sent were handpicked for the task. Zarina crossed her arms the moment she realized what this was about and kept her frame in the center of the door frame, only leaning slightly to the side when Marceline joined in. “Lady Afraval,” she began, still calm but her voice stammering just a little bit. The tactics used were effective, even when the subject was aware of them. “I'm sorry but why at this hour? They're either sleeping or having a good, quiet time. If they're even still here.” although it only occurred to her now that something was missing. She kept her voice down. “Who are we talking about?”
Sienna's eyes went to Collette's briefly, and then to Jurgen's. "It's Penny, Zarina - Penny Pellerin."
"And why now?" Marci challenged. "Why after she's already been released? Why in the middle of the night?" She repeated Zarina's unanswered question.
"So we could get her quickly and quietly into custody and back out of it for classes tomorrow," the Zeno offered. "We assumed she'd be at her place and were surprised to find she'd gone here." Jurgen shot her an unreadable look. "Listen, Zazzy, I had my misgivings about this, but it's what I was told and, whatever's happened recently, I trust them enough to believe they wouldn't outright lie." She paused and gathered her breath. "May we enter and speak with her?" While it did not come from Sienna, there was a subtle, cautionary, drawing of energy from the party outside.
Zarina made it clear by the growing frown on her face that she didn't like any of this. She chewed at nothing to pacify herself, but the fact that so many powerful individuals were at her door quickly put her on edge. “You do know it's a bit weird they send you, Ms. Afraval, to get a Perrench suspect. Arch Zeno Tojarra already made the situation very awkward.”
However, Zarina's maintained composure was challenged when the faintest hint of active drawing caught her attention. She shot a warning glare at the concerned parties, although she couldn't quite tell those who were concerned. “You may. But only you.” her attention remained on the martial flock behind the Zeno. “I presume she isn't being arrested? If so, nobody else's stepping in unless she wants to go with you.”
"What she wants doesn't matter in this," Jurgen warned, though it was distinctly not a threat. "The school has declared this a 'disciplinary matter'." Collette shot him a pointed look and he fell silent, eyes briefly finding his younger sister. "I shall wait with our visitors at the door," Marceline promised, preempting any rejection of Zarina's terms.
Sienna offered up an apologetic face. "Thank you," she replied once the others were quite finished. "I do realize how this looks and they have assured me this is not an arrest, else I'd not have agreed to come." With those words, she stepped past the threshold. A couple of the guards - the Zenith's Guards - Zarina and Marceline noted, scowled, but they were the minnows here and they did not press.
Zarina forced herself to not reply with appropriate sass to Marci's brother. Still, she did add something. “My home is outside of the city's walls. Disciplinary measures or not, you'll need more to compel me to relent.” she then nodded to Marci before showing Sienna in.
“She was definitely here, and I didn't see her leave.” Zarina informed her previously appointed zeno, voice lowered to something more discreet. “If I were to make an educated guess ...” the teen's intuition would bring them to the upper floor, and eventually to the trap door that led to the attic. “Fair warning, the boyfriend's here. Good guy, but different.” before they progressed any further, she reached for Afraval's forearm to get her attention. “I'm trusting you, teach. I really don't want this night to end up in violence, pain and division. It's been so ... I almost wanna say perfect.”
Ayla was occupied with still tidying up for the evening, especially as people seemed to have confused plant pots for disposal areas, namely leftovers of that muffin. Her interest perked at the commotion as she moved toward the door to investigate, finding Zarina and Marci in talks with whoever was there. When she spotted Zeno Afraval, she was about to smile and welcome her cousin warmly, though when she noticed the facial expression being held, she quickly picked up that this is more than a social call. “Is there anything we can do to help?” She approached with an eyebrow raised as she communicated silently towards Zarina and Sienna but relented as they moved on elsewhere in the house. She turned to look toward Collette and Jurgen, “Would you like bread and salt? We have plenty left over.” She indicated toward far more appealing food items than simple provisions in her statement.
Marceline did a double take at Zarina's response. Had she misinterpreted Jurgen's words or had the older girl? To her mind, that had not been a threat but, rather, a warning of the school's intentions and his barely-suppressed misgivings about them. For a moment, she second-guessed herself, and that was enough that it passed. Jurgen all-but rolled his eyes and returned to being stoic and professional.
Then, his eyes found Ayla, even before she'd reached the door. He smiled in her direction as she spoke. "I would very much welcome your hospitality," he replied gratefully, stepping through the threshold, even as Collette shot him a warning look. "I thought this was Zarina's home," she replied to Ayla. "Is it... not?"
Zarina, meanwhile, had spoken her entreaty and Sienna furrowed her brow. "I can't promise anything," she replied quickly and quietly, "except that I will do everything in my power to ensure it doesn't escalate and that I will hold my higher ups to their word." The stairs creaked as they walked. "You're doing Ipté's work, Zarina. I'm so sorry to have thrown a wet blanket on it."
Then, they were at the top of the stairs. There was a hallway leading to three rooms and the privy. The trapdoor to the attic was not so very far away.
Ayla paused for a moment as it seemed she had stumbled into an awkward situation, though she is unclear why there are hostilities, and even if there were, it would be best to make things as cooperative as possible if it involved the Academy and the Centuries. “Zarina does own the house, though we pay rent to live here,” she shot a look toward Marci as if to say ‘what gives?’ As she shook her head side-to-side. Peering at the weather, she looked bemused. “My apologies, then you must wait by the entrance as you enter. It would be improper to have two centuries waiting outside in this weather, and we must extend our hospitality to you.” She moved to pick up a chair as she brought it over by the entrance and fetched another. She encouraged Marci to bring some food and drink, while she did likewise, offering some delicacies. “What would you both prefer, meat? Scotch Eggs? Macarons…” She looked at the basket still sat at the table, “Best to avoid those muffins, though.” She moved the basket out of the way discreetly.
he guards waited outside, having not been invited in, while their nominal superiors stepped through. "Ah, yes, the erm... 'muffins'," Marceline acknowledged, still trying to get the last remnants of their taste out of her mouth. "Do not be so adventurous, Jurgen." She shook her head. "And neither you, my lady. I shall fetch the finest of cuisines for my dear brother and his friend." Marceline twirled on the spot and rushed off to fetch what was left, returning with Zenobucks coffee, scotch eggs, macaroons, and 'pigs in a blanket' from McBoller's. In the meantime, Jurgen looked at the basket and smirked as if to say, 'should I?'
Zarina clenched her jaw. “If she refuses, what happens then?” she inquired, showing glimpses of her naiveté to a teacher who knew her all too well. “I'll side with my guest and friend, Sienna.” they were nearing the end of the hallway with the trapdoor's cord hanging conspicuously before a large cat tree. “Nobody should hear us.” she said just as she conjured a quick and cramped sonic bubble. “What are they going to do to her? Is it just some interrogation?”
Sienna shrugged, eyes darting about as the bubble dropped. "Far as they've told me, it's just some questioning. They're all at a loss for where that attack came from and that, in itself, is pretty worrying." She shook her head. "Then, I imagine they'll give her a slap on the wrist and send her on her way." She eemed about to let up, but her face darkened. "There's... a chance they'll do more. I don't know if you've heard, but there's been vandalism on the statues of the Zenith and Arch-Zeno Tojarra." She bit her lower lip. "The wise thing to do is to let Penny go and I firmly believe that wisdom will prevail here. Still..." She let herself fall silent for a moment. "That doesn't always hold true these days."
Then, they could hear footsteps from below - awkward and distinct ones, coming up the stairs.
“So they've got nothing. That doesn't look too good.” remarked Zarina. She reached out for the cord, but was interrupted by a notion that brought her to think. “And no, I didn't hear. Fuck.” she took a deep breath before looking at the cord again. “I'm trusting you, Sienna. Same way you trusted me after ... Last year, despite the mess I caused.”
“Hmm.” footsteps were drawing near just as she prepared to open the hatch again and the hostess couldn't help but recognize how distinct they were. She raised her hand for Sienna to stop any ascent or if she wanted to speak. “Wait, someone's coming.”
"Not just anyone," the Zeno whispered, popping the sonic bubble as she finished. "That's her."
"Babe?" came Penny's voice, traveling up the stairs. It ran into the remnants of their sound dampening and didn't travel particularly far. Then, there was a pause and her head appeared in the stairwell. "Oh, Zarina!" she exclaimed, before noticing who was accompanying her. "And Zeno Afraval." She quickly bowed her head in respect. "You grace us with your presence." Her eyes found Zarina, though, and seemed to send a quick and alarmed message: 'What is going on? Am I in trouble? Is there any getting out of it?'
Despite the warnings, Penny's arrival caught Zarina off guard. Unsure of how this would go down, she greeted the Perrench with a look of uncertainty that could only feel the worry Penny inevitably manifested. She gestured for her to come closer before looking over shoulders.
“Zeno Afraval, a couple of Century and some city guards are here for you -” she peered toward Sienna briefly. “for questioning. It's your choice if you wanna do any of that.” she crossed her arms and set herself in a good spot to step between the two if something ever went wrong. “If you don't want to go, they can't compel me to give you away, for what it's worth.” she shot a confident smile to Penny, one identical to the one she kept during the whole Soirée as she basked in the unity she had created. “But, I think you should hear what Sienna has to say.”
Before Penny could speak, Sienna Afraval raised a hand. "I should stop you right there." She tried to address both Zarina and Penny. "Technically, by the letter of the law, I can legally compel her to the Violet Enclave because of the ridiculous charge leveled against her." The Zeno shook her head immediately. "Now, you can rest assured that I never would. Not for a moment would I force you to do anything against your will." Her gaze took them both in. "That said, I think you should come with me, Penny, and you will almost certainly be either acquitted without a big showy public trial that they don't want or else given the lightest slap on the wrist imaginable and dumped right back in class for tomorrow."
Penelope's face tightened. "And the people actually responsible for this mess," she inquired in a voice that walked the line between wary and too-sweet. "Have they been caught?" She tilted her head. "Found?" She continued. "Are there any leads at all?"
Sienna's face looked pained. "Penny..." she sighed.
"Zeno Afraval," the girl replied.
"Penny, please don't. I know they've treated you badly. Its'... quite frankly abhorrent, and you've every right to be angry and distrustful, but I'm trying to set it right. Others like Zenos Masson and Silvestri, Fabio, Luna, and Sunny: we're all trying to set it right. This is the best compromise we can get. They know their situation isn't amazing, but - "
"But a cornered animal lashes out," the Perrenchwoman interrupted. She narrowed her eyes. "And wouldn't I be a great person to hold ransom in a pinch?"
"They'd be digging their own graves if they tried."
"Oh, they won't do it formally," Penny decided. "No, they'll have some justification, but anyone with half a brain for politics will be able to see the truth."
"The truth?" Zeno Afraval replied. She shook her head, and quite aggressively. "The truth is that statues of Arch-Zeno Tojarra and Zenith Upta have been vandalized by Perrench and Perrench-aligned students, but the news hasn't traveled yet." She took a deep breath, trying to reel them both in with her eyes again. "But it will and they may feel compelled to act and then the scenario you mention becomes a possibility." She held up a hand to forestall further comment until she was finished. "A remote one, I firmly believe, but still a possibility. We go now, however, and this can all blow over." She cleared her throat. "They give you the punishment of penning a letter on the danger of aberrations or something stupid like that, everyone sees that they've let you go as they should've in the first place, they find some Revidian or Torragonese to slap with the same penalty, and then we go back to... well, hopefully not all hating each other." Her voice was almost desperate, almost pleading. "Please, Penny," she entreated. "You're a good person. You always have been, and I'm sorry this has happened. It's unjust and even cruel, but I'm asking you to help me here. You can help me put an end to the worst of it, but our time is short. We have to act now while cooler heads may yet prevail."
Penny's face and bearing burned with anxiety. Her eyes flicked Zarina's way before returning to the Zeno. She swallowed. "And if they don't?" she asked simply.
Zarina looked back at Penny with equal amounts of concern, but she forced herself to regain her composure. With confidence, she spoke. “Then we'll push back against the school. Us, the students.” she stated without blinking or a hint of hesitation. “It's not a threat, this is how it's gonna be. And not just those of one side.” at first her eyes flickered to Penny, and then they reached Afraval's. “And all those who'd stand against corruption, not just the students.”
The hostess of the abode and festivities reached out to Penny's hand in a show of solidarity. “Just know, no matter your choice, I stand with my friend. As I'm sure Ashon would too.” a grin that radiated youthful and reckless confidence reigned on her expression, one that sent the message: 'I meant it, they can't make me, legal or not.'
“But I trust Sienna. Of all the staff ... I trust her the most, along with Jo'. She didn't let me down at my very worst.” she turned her head to regard the Torragonese royal with softened features. “I don't think she'll let you down either.”
Penny nodded. She seemed ready to reach a conclusion, to go with this plan or not, but then she paused. "I hear what both of you are saying," she acknowledged. "I understand it, even." She took a step to the side, however. "But it's not only about me," she declared, running her hands tenderly across her midsection. "Not anymore." She smiled faintly and nervously. "I need to speak with Ashon. He must be part of a decision of this import." Eyes darting between the other two, Penny reached up for the rope to pull it.
As the attic opened, a Yasoi male flopped upside down before the trio of ladies that had gathered before them. He took a glance at each of them, then sagely nodded his head, “It is true, whatever I have been accused of is correct.” He released himself as he flipped onto the landing, his arms spread out in a welcoming manner. “It was when I was a wee lad, about this high you see,” he mimed the height that he was, “There was Kerreman Knight, just like that one down there, moustache and all, and he held the village ransom as he demanded a shrubbery. As you know, a shrubbery is very important to us Yasoi…” he could feel the eyes glaring towards him, as he cleared his throat, “Well, long story short, the Grey fleet made me do it, and I am down a shrubbery.” He shook his head in disappointment as he turned to Penny, “I promised that I would use that shrubbery to feed you and our future family. I have failed you, my love.”
He held his hands together as he presented them to the Zeno Afraval. “Please don’t inform Zeno Tarthas’talix’tuura, the sting of his cane continues to plague me to this day.” He gestured to the gathered crowd of guards outside the building, “You didn’t have to bring all of them with you, though. I am pretty harmless. Only need a wink and a smile, though…” He held his finger up as a warning, “I am a very happily taken man, so I would have to politely refuse…”
He looked toward the three of them, one after the other. “This is only a copy; I was just buying the real me a good head start over that way,” he thumbed towards a random direction, gesturing with a slowly repeated tug of his thumb.
His hands came to a stop. "It is not me you want," He expressed a frown as he looked toward Penny, ceasing his little distraction he attempted to buy her time.
At first, Penny's heart raced when she saw Jamboi. Then... her eyes widened as he proceeded to make light of the situation. She laughed, despite herself and, finally, she understood. She took a couple of steps forward and reached for his hands. In the span of a minute, he had made her feel excitement, alarm, mirth, and fondness. That was, simply put, why she loved him. Nobody else could do that.
"Jammy," she said softly, "You're right that it's me. They only like my little hat, though, the one I never wear, and are desperate to have it. I've determined that it doesn't look much good on them anyhow." She reached up to stroke his face, a forearm crutch dangling from its cuff and sliding back down her arm. "Dare I say I might even have a chance to look for your shrubbery and all of the things quite a few of us have misplaced or had stolen. All I need to do is let them hold one old hat that I don't very much like and, the longer that they hold it, the more likely I think it is that others might have a chance to look as well." She willed it not to be too convoluted. She willed him to understand. She stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss him.
Ashon understood her words as he leaned in close and embraced her, planting a loving kiss on her lips. "Penny, when the roof tile fell." His eyes met hers, perhaps saying far more non-verbally as he held her within his arms. He released her, his hand caressed her stomach lightly as his fingers clawed upon it. "No more Vossiriya, bad weather, worse food."
Zarina watched them both with compounding interest. She first believed Jamboi to be making a fool of himself, or far too much light of the situation. But as it went on, and she acknowledged Penny's reactions to the Yasoi's drivel, she began to understand. Skepticism turned into intrigue, and that too eventually became mild envy. The chemistry these two shared was palpable and the love for one-another manifested in simple looks brought Zarina to reflect on things she wouldn't have on this pressing situation. To be this special to another person was something she had yet to know. Something she desperately wanted to know. She remained a romantic and a dreamer, even at the face of futility.
Her arms crossed under her chest as she sought to keep in any budding emotions during this heartfelt exchange. “How long can they reasonably keep her without any proof or a confession?” she had twisted to address Afraval and made an effort to not disturb the two lovers.
Penny embraced him back, leaning into his warmth and strength. "No more Vossoriya," she murmured into his chest. "I promise." She released him. He released her. "I've brought my own food anyhow." She smiled up at him.
Meanwhile, Zarina had addressed Sienna Afraval, and the Zeno did her best to answer a hypothetical for what seemed like the umpteenth time. "They'll want to get her in and out as quickly as they can," she assured the youth, "unless the world goes crazy again." She shook her head. "In that case, honestly... all bets are off, I'd say. In that case, you act, and -" She lowered her voice. "I support you."
With that, Penny was finished, and she turned on the spot, holding her hands out. "I suppose you'll need to cuff me," she remarked, tilting her head to the side challengingly.
Sienna looked her up and down. "No, Penny. That won't be necessary."
"Never know," the teen replied with a wink. "Girl with one leg might just run off on you." She let her hands fall to her sides and exchanged a small supportive look with Ashon. "Thank you, Jammy." She turned to Zarina. "Thank you, Zazzy." She took hold of her crutches again. "I'm ready, Zeno Afraval."
What a night. The Soirée was, by all accounts, a success. Zarina was working with three hours of sleep following the event, but there wasn’t a single ounce of regret in her - well, almost. The fresh memories of unity and joy kept her going just before an act she had premeditated with her business partner that reminded her all too much of the state of the world. Freshened up, caffeinated and looking fabulously green like Perrench pastures to match the colours of Zeno Bucks, Zazzy was ready to tackle this arduous day.
She waited inside the main patio bordering the Godsroad. The yard was still a mess and the inside, while cleaned, still smelled of party and of the few guests that were too intoxicated to leave. A little bit of people - and consequently steeds - watching was what she needed to accompany her bambalouni with coffee as she waited for Marceline to be ready.
“Mornin’.” she chirped, upbeat and with a cup prepared for her sister.
Marceline slid into the seat across from her. "Mornin!" the girl chirped, raising her cup in acknowledgement and thanks. She seemed, already, quite awake, though there were bags under her eyes. She crossed her legs and took a sip. An easy silence built between them. "You know, I barely slept a wink," the younger one admitted after a bit. "And it wasn't because of Penny either. I imagine she made the right choice and we'll all come out of it alright. 'Least... I hope so." Her voice grew solemn for a flicker before she covered the lower half of her face with her cup, taking a second sip. "Really, it was all that thumping and moaning last night," she remarked, not letting her drink down just yet. "The Tarlonese, I imagine." She shot Zarina a dim look.
“I zoned it after an hour. The thumping.” Zarina answered with a wry look returned to Marci. “Probably.” with that one word went the positive energy she had been emanating since she had woken up. It wasn't a regret but an insecurity that gnawed at her. The older girl blew on her coffee and took her sip as her eyes drifted back to the diverse group of peoples heading to work in the city.
“Ayla's got the cleaning. We,” a second wind hit her with a strong 'we' coming with an even strongest announcement. “have some acorns to hoard before the storm hits. And I've got a few friends -” her tone fluctuated to emphasize the fair weather nature of the term. “who can broker deals fast. Question is how many funds we can secure with the good will we've garnered with a year of good business.” the uncertainty prompted her to flex her facial features for a second before she took another sip from her now cooler coffee. “And then there's the question of what happens if we've gotta take a leave of absence ...”
Marceline leeched a bit of the heat from her drink and downed it. "Ugh," she teased, "Imagine being a twitching coffee fiend." She rolled her eyes and placed her cup back on its saucer. "I've got a couple leads as well. One might require a brief trip across the bay into Méatu." She shrugged. "So I'll probably be 'sick' for a couple days. This semester's classes are all easy anyway. I'll see if Jojo can grab my assignments for me."
Restless, perhaps, Marceline stood and stretched. "Come on, suunei, we have a crisis to go head off." She rolled her neck. "And if we have to take a leave of absence? Well, isn't that what twenty-five hour copies are for?" Marceline arched an eyebrow and winked. "Besides, there are two of us and, if worse comes to worst, I'll just make myself less valuable by playing crippled for a bit." She began walking towards the door. "Ip-damned warmongers. How many businesses." She paused. "And people are they gonna kill? Gods know they could never offer me enough to risk my neck for the fatherland or bloody Sancho."
Zarina lazily ascended from her seat and mimicked Marceline's efforts to stretch, ending with an unrestrained yawn. “That's a lot of twenty-five hour copies there, suunei. I didn't know you were that loaded.” she joked, mug still in hand as she finished up before leaving the porcelain item at the patio and stepped onto the Godsroad. “It's more for me anyway, you'd want at least an assistant. I can't exactly pull a fast one on my country. Nor do I really want to.”
They walked into the city, as cutting through the fields lacked the opportunities of buying foods they did not need at the market. There was no hurry to reach their contacts just yet. “... How's it going with Fiske?” Zarina brought up out of the blue, and it sounded as awkward as a parent taking interest in a child's niche hobby. “I didn't see much of him last night.”
"Oh!" Marci chirped, seeming in something of a hurry to reach the gate, "He was with my copy. They went and had a little fun together." She winked. "Now come on, Zazzy! We've got spratz to gather, and coffee!"
Zarina furrowed her brows. “Your copy? Oh, wait,” she snapped her fingers twice. “that prize of yours?” then she regarded Marci like she had something on her face. “... Any particular reason you'd do that? Other than 'fun'?”
They soon arrived at the pier where a Virangish man with a thick and white moustache awaited them. From there, Zarina worked her magic. He was the first of a decently long line of hands to shake if they were going to exact their plan swiftly.
Marceline twirled some hair around a finger. "Oh, just stuff n' things," she replied sweetly. "Also a test. I'm going to take out a couple more so we can cover more ground over the next few days." She shrugged. "If I'm a bit scarce, that's why."
Then, they reached the first of their contacts. Zarina took lead on this one. Marceline knew how to support a narrative. It was the first of many.
The day was progressing as smoothly as it could. Negotiations were nothing new, but the initial rejections from different transport groups were bigger than normal given the unusual nature of their orders. Still, their successes were enough to put the duo on track to exact their plans.
“Eighty tons already.” remarked Zarina during the luncheon break, and puffchicken eggs were on the menu. “Not nearly enough, but I've got some favors I can pull still.” she stated confidently. “You think they'll actually keep Penny?” she asked, a tad glum.
"I'd like to reach two-hundred, and I think I have a shot with my guy in Méatu, but I think we can make do with one-fifty in a pinch." Marceline shrugged. "It's just... so many variables and there's no way we can like... anticipate them all." She pursed her lips, starting to feel the bug to talk business strategies, but she tamped down on it and picked at her food, waiting for Zarina to speak again. When she did, Marci nibbled at her lower lip and glanced downwards. "I dunno." She shrugged. "But Jurgen seemed to think so and I'm learning that he really knows his shit when it comes to this kind of thing. He can read people."
Marci took a sip of her drink. "They're idiots. They're basically trying to hold Penny hostage and hoping we don't call their bluff, but it's an open secret among us students that she's the daughter of someone very important in Perrence." She shook her head. "It's like they're trying to start a war." She scowled. "I swear: half the people we know would do a better job in charge."
Her fingers drummed nervously and her analytic bravado seemed to fade. "I mean, I think so...?" Her eyes met Zarina's for a moment and she finally seemed a bit more her age. "You think so too...right?" She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed and face worried. "Like, we're playing chicken with someone's life here, and it's... goddamned Penny." She took a moment to breathe and paired it with a shrug that tried to be nonchalant. "We're not like, best friends or anything, but - Ipté - she was in my apprentice group last year." Marci swallowed. "We were fuckin' roommates. We used to cook together and we both sucked at it." The fifteen-year-old choked out a small laugh, took another breath, and wasn't quite sure what to do with herself.
"These people are fucked," she mewed, not quite finding the vigor that she'd been looking for. She shook her head. "I've just been putting it out of sight and out of mind and..." A third breath. "Why does the world have to so full of bad people?" Marci swallowed. "Why am I becoming one of them?" Her eyes were beseeching for just a moment before she twisted and looked away. A hand reached up, as if fixing her hair, but it ran itself across her cheek. "It's fuckin' Penny. I should be there instead of in Méatu."
“Wait.” Zarina raised her hand to interrupt Marceline. “She is?” it wouldn't have been the first time she pulled a sarcastic joke, but the cheeky smile or giggles didn't come. It seemed Zarina did not pry too much into Penny's business. “I thought she was just really loaded.” she shrugged. “In that case, yeah fuck. They're messing up. Maybe you should apply for Zenith.” she playfully nudged Marci with her elbow.
The jokes and generic remarks ceased once the subject was explored more seriously by Marci. Zarina decided it was a time to listen. No words, only considerate looks and nods. Once her sister figure had finished with her thoughts and worries, she reached out to wrap her arm around the younger teen's shoulders and pulled her closer. “For starters, you're not bad. And,” she looked out toward the pier. It was full with daily arrivals, although the unloading had since been done. “I don't think most of them are bad. It ain't a rule of nature that you suddenly become bad with power. I gotta assume it's more complicated than just doing a good or bad thing. But ... They did cross a line when they took our friend. I agree.”
Zarina leaned her head to the side, resting it over the shorter girl's. “We're gonna do something.” she whispered, eyes still locked on the busy scenery. “Sienna and I spoke of this. And if there is no change by tonight, we're gathering as many of our friends and their friends to ours. After the soirée, they should find it to be a comfortable place to talk and prepare.” calm, collected and resolute, Zarina squeezed her sister's shoulder. “Méatu can wait a day or two. If you want.”
Marci seemed lost in thought, her young face pensive. "Yeah," she decided. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea." She nodded slowly. "Gods. I worked so hard for that contact..." She shook her head as if to clear it. "They're not gonna touch a hair on Penny's head, so help me." She took a quick bite of her food, swallowed, and then took another. It seemed to settle and recenter her.
"You know," she remarked after a bit, "I've been thinking a bit about how the war will affect our business." She had a bit of water and glanced out over the piers. "Conventional wisdom's that we're kind of a luxury and luxuries don't do well in war." She shook her head and, when her eyes returned to Zarina, she was wearing that predatory grin she usually did when she got an idea. "So, riddle me this, oh sister of mine," she teased, "Living through a war is a stressful business, is it not?"
Zarina raised a brow and took a moment to muse on the subject. “I suppose it is, dear sister.”
Marceline steepled her fingers together. "So then tell me, dear sister, what is one thing that people do to escape stress that could benefit us?"
Zarina's narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “They fuck?” she proposed before giggling. “They take substances, reasonably priced too. You want our stuff to be that thing they can enjoy to escape the sorry state of the world?”
She pointed finger guns at Zarina. "Bingo!" she exclaimed. "Bring on the spratz! Bring on the sugar and honey and coffee and candied apples!" She patted her tummy. "Bring on the muffins and cookies and cakes!" She grinned mercilessly. "Bring on the fountains of chocolate and those sweet sweet baybeh brandæble turnovers!" She leaned back and clasped her hands behind her head. "We all just need us some sugar, so screw conventional wisdom." Restlessly, eagerly, she leaned forward. "We're in an open marketplace. We have no direct competitors yet." She shook her head. "While every other merchant of luxuries slashes their prices in the hope of retaining business, we don't cut even a bit." She paused and pondered. "Maybe we even raise 'em a little because, ya know, the war effort is making things more expensive and people will understand." She took another sip of her drink and arched an eyebrow conspiratorially.
Zarina laughed the whole way, but never once in a mocking manner. Marci's tirade on their next moves was both amusing and inspiring, and goodness did the older of the duo need to hoard all these feel good moments with the war looming over her head. “Hey, hold down there, fireball. Little pepper you.” she poked her pointer finger against Marceline's shoulder with a cheeky look to her. “Let's not gouge the livelihood out of our customers. We START with premium prices, because Virang is suffering, and THEN we lower them. A little bit, just BARELY below our standard. Progressively. Then, we become champions of a better tomorrow, and for all.”
Marceline pursed her lips. "We raise them," she countered, "gradually, as the war effort grinds on and supplies become scarce." She leaned in, "But not really. Technically, we raise them, but we offer nearly constant discounts. Regular price: eight owls. Special price: five owls!" She shrugged. "You're right. We shouldn't gouge people when they're struggling." She shook her head. "So we don't effectively jack up prices for the most part. We just make like we've had to out of necessity but are trying to keep things affordable." She chewed and swallowed the last of her meal. "Makes 'em think they're getting a deal: Patriot Pandes, Oraff's Orredes, Lucky Lepdes. They'll come out in droves when they smell a discount and we look like a good corporate actor."
Marceline paused. "I'm being horrible again, aren't I?" She offered a roguish grin, but there was uncertainty in her eyes.
Zarina laughed devilishly. “You are. But it's a good idea.” things calmed as she finished her meal as well and downed it all with her ice coffee. “It's actually very similar to the first talks we had, y'know? Deals to make people wanna buy, we talked and talked about the best ways to move money from vulnerable purses into ours. It's already been a fucking year.” she shook her head before peering toward her business partner. “With you around, I think we'll manage no matter what the war tosses at us.” she reached out to give Marci a typical big sister head pat that came with a free hair-ruining rub. “Of course, I'm here to keep you honest.”
Marci bore it stoically until her eyes glance up from her unmoving face to shoo Zarina's lingering hand away. "It's crazy, isn't it?" She smiled. "Gods, I dunno what I'd do without you." She shook her head. "You always know how to talk to people. You know so many people, and you manage to do it all while being honest and decent." She lingered a moment before standing. "I'm in awe of you, Zarina." A mischievous grin followed. "When I'm all grown up, I wanna be just like you!" She plunked an incantor down onto the table and stretched, glancing up at the distant clocktower on the far side of the Harbour Gate. "Ready to scarf away some more acorns?"
“Not so sure about decent.” Zarina joked with her head lowered to cast a light shadow on a look that suddenly became hawkish. “Just like I'm about to be not-so-decent at this promotion to mom I'm getting here.” she raised her voice to "scold" Marci. “Become just like me. Hahahaha.” it was all in jolly good fun, in the end.
As they both stood to do their next bit of their work, Zarina stepped forward to embrace Marceline. “No matter how shit turns out, you know you'll always be my precious sister. Alright?” she squeezed before releasing. “Okay, dramatic-romatic-me aside, we do be needing some hoarding. I think Patrick should arrive in ten ...”
Marceline had her game face on by the time that he arrived just slightly ahead of schedule. "Right," she said, with a businesslike nod and a smile. It wasn't like her to get so emotional. She always made poor decisions when she did. "Let's do this."
And 'do this', they did. After Patrick, who was good for fourteen tons, there was Bilal and his forty-seven, and then Consuela with thirty, Marco, who'd haggled for every benny on eighteen, and Kofi, who'd managed to scrounge up eleven. Petronela, who Marci was supposed to have gone to see the next day, was unexpectedly relegated to backup. As Oraff gave way to Eshiran, the pair had - miraculously - secured exactly their stretch goal of two hundred tons, but it was tentative, pending funds and securing their carriers and storage. Marceline didn't want to think about how stretched they were. In between potential suppliers, they'd gone to almost every bank imaginable.
They'd barely even bothered with the Somnians, however, who'd refused them outright, and Garibaldi's Pawn was always going to be a last resort. MBC and the Zenith's Bank had declined them for the riskiness of their venture, as had Bluebell's and the Seafarer's Exchange for the scale of it. Marceline had tried to play up the Kerreman angle with Green Dragon, but they hadn't bought it. Leaving the bank, she'd shaken her head. "Never have looked properly Kerreman, you know." She'd let out an annoyed huff and waved the notion away.
Matters had looked grim until they'd hit pay dirt at the Banque Royale. The vice-chair of the branch had merely steepled his fingers and smiled. "Ah, mademoiselle Nader, mademoiselle Hohenfelter," he'd purred, "I drink your café near every morning." Indeed, there'd been one of their ubiquitous ceramic mugs on his table. Those had become a common sight throughout the city in the year since Zenobucks had commenced operations. "I say you have a winning formula and, if you can navigate this coming Revidien agression, then investing in your venture is... a winning idea for us, n'est-ce pas?" Of course, he'd gone on to speak of the risks. No bank was going to give them too low interest a loan, or too large a loan in this uncertain political climate, but they'd managed to secure two-thirds of what they needed from the Perrench.
That left them slightly short on funds as the sun hung heavy and golden, and Bilal and Consuela were not the sorts to take 'IOUs'. "Well," Marci remarked, "We still have Sealy's and..." She grimaced. "Garibaldi's, though we could try the other branch of MBC!" Both were dressed like proper young businesswomen, but they were, quite frankly, worn out, both physically and mentally, as the size of their gamble began to catch up with them. "Sealy's first?" She did not have high hopes. They usually offered only small and midsized loans, but they were in shipping, which was another problem, and perhaps the amount remaining might just fall within their loaning model? It was that or Garibaldi's, who would almost certainly give them the money, but would append onerous terms to it and, as many whispered, would enforce repayment... vigorously. They could try to return to MBC with their beggar's bowls out, but that was a bad look and being backed by both the Perrench and the Revidians was... risky.
Decisions, decisions. They were very close to completing their blitzkrieg maneuver to secure their future, especially with palpable discontent within the city and a bubble of anger just ready to burst in the coming days. There was no place for half-measures.
“They're going to be firm on a fat rate. And we don't have time to negotiate at this point.” Zarina bit the nail on her thumb. “But I saw we take what they offer.” a loud 'click' came with a pierce of hernail being downright cracked. She was clearly anxious. “I've got a fail-safe. Kinda. My mom. If we really need it.” her idle arm clenched the folders they had accumulated containing quotations, contracts and bills
As the sun began to approach the horizon, they had arrived to their final decision: Sealy's. If there was an establishment they would prefer owing a large interest to, it'd be them. Zarina was far too familiar with the more unsavoury loan shark types. She had absolutely no desire of having them as a first choice.
Sealy's was nearly ready to close for the day, and it was no exaggeration to say that the pair... jogged part of the distance there, employing magic both to boost their speed and keep themselves from looking disheveled. If this entire whirlwind venture had proven immensely stressful, moments like this, oddly, were not. Marceline simply ran, feeling the wind in her hair, the air in lungs, and the folders tucked under her arm wanting to break free and squirt out onto the flagstones. There was so much risk and uncertainty but, for these bare few moments, it felt like an adventure. It felt like she was living the life she'd always hoped for but never thought she might have - a life that could last indefinitely once she ate the apple on her eighteenth birthday - a life that could be free of the tethering. A weird sense of certainty came over the girl and she shot Zarina a big smile as they slowed down and took a moment to clean themselves up before entering the bank. "We got this, habibi." She flicked some hair over her shoulder as she opened the door. "Don't worry."
At first, the clerks had been less than pleased with their late arrival, but when they'd recognized Zarina and been satisfied that the pair represented a serious business venture, they'd been ushered upstairs, where the manager, Maryanne, had decided to entertain them. She'd even gone so far as to remain after hours on their behalf.
She, too, was in possession of one of those ubiquitous mugs, using it as a makeshift flowerpot on her desktop. Behind her hung a portrait of Isidore Sealy, the famous Enthish shipping magnate and owner of the bank. After initial pleasantries and some discussion of their business plan, the trio got down to the meat of the issue. "You have to understand our hesitancy," the Enthishwoman was saying. "Your venture is promising, but times are uncertain and this falls somewhat outside of our business model." She furrowed her brow, dipping her quill in some ink as she continued to take notes. "You say you've secured your supply, at least in theory?"
Zarina nodded. "They're reliable people. We have written agreements." She was already prepared to produce them.
The manager nodded and raised a hand to forestall the actual handover. "I am going to need to see those and look into their financials." She paused. "as well as yours, out of due diligence, but we'll send your papers off to a printer and you'll retain your originals." She tapped her quill twice on the paper and leaned back in her chair, considering, her expression very much like Mr. Sealy's behind her. "And transport?" she inquired after a moment.
Marci and her partner glanced at each other, the former deciding to take this one. "The majority is accounted for," she assured Maryanne. "Pending a few more discussions with our logistical partners, we expect the rest to come together over the next few days, especially once they see we've secured supply and capital."
Maryanne scowled, unconvinced, and drummed the desktop with her fingers. She paused to consider and the pair knew that things like this were usually not good. Zarina opened her mouth to offer assurances, but she was preempted by the manager. "You will politely inform those you are still waiting for word back from that you have chosen to ship with the Sealy Consortium instead." She tapped her quill twice on her paper, as if rendering it final. "Our fleet arm will be your majority logistical partner for the duration of a five-year fully-binding contract, exact details to be finalized by appointment with my superior in..." She trailed off, consulting a very busy-looking calendar on the wall. "Two months' - No, two and a half months' time." She stood and marked something on her calendar. "On the 25th of Ardanes, to give Pa- Mr. Sealy some lead time."
Marceline's eyes widened and she turned to Zarina wordlessly. This was more than they could've hoped for, but they'd be putting the future of their venture squarely in the hands of a rather predatory Enthish shipping magnate and... the quickly retracted 'Pa' had not gone unnoticed. Maryanne was his... daughter!? "Y-you'll have to understand our need to discuss matters," Marceline replied after a moment of stunned silence. "Of course, Zenobucks will remain wholly owned by its current shareholders." She worked hard to keep the note of uncertainty from her voice.
Maryanne nodded and seated herself again and leaned forward, knitting her fingers together. "Naturally," she agreed. "We're not interested in selling coffee, Miss Hohenfelter." She nodded in Zarina's direction. "Miss al-Nader. Only shipping it, in bulk, to a reliable retail partner with significant potential for expansion." She smiled, and it was neither pleasant nor particularly unpleasant. "Are you such a partner?"
Zarina nodded and so did her partner. "I would imagine we both agree on that," the former replied, "Though, naturally, we will have to conduct our own checks."
"For due diligence," Marceline added.
"You are, of course, welcome and even encouraged to do so," Maryanne assured them. "You will find our financials in order, our carriers are neutral-flagged, and our terms suitably generous." She clasped her hands together. "Our assurances are honest and made in good faith. I do warn you, however," she concluded, "that this is not a negotiation." She pushed the paper she'd been writing on towards them on the desk, and it was all fairly mundane matters, similar to what they'd discussed. "You may accept our terms as written or you can try Garibaldi's" Her smile was pleasant enough, but she was a wolf through and throiugh. Maryanne held her hand out for them to shake on the tentative deal.
Zarina stared at the hand presented to her. She instinctively reached for a shisha pipe to her right, a typical behaviour she had when discussing business in a more relaxed setting. It was her tell - a sign that she was about to make an offer of her own. “One month and a half.” she stated, firmly. “Time is too valuable of a commodity to waste, especially now. If we're going to have such a tight venture, then we expect you to be fully on-board with the aggressive strategy we've proposed.”
Zarina looked to her business partner with a slight smile. “If we can agree on that, then I don't foresee any issues. And you've seen our expansion plans for countries such as Enth in the very near future. Less-than-a-year near if we're all in on this with alacrity.”
Maryanne scowled. "I'm not certain you understand, so I'm going to make matters clearer: that is Mr. Sealy's earliest availability, and he will want final say on this deal." She started to draw her hand back. "While we understand the urgent nature of your venture, we have to work within the constraints we're given." She looked disappointed.
Then, Marceline darted in and took the hand before it fell away. "We accept, of course," she replied. "As my partner has already made clear." They shook, tentatively, as Marci shot Zarina an apologetic look. "But perhaps we could pen a short-term agreement - a sort of test run - to cover the time until your senior is able to attend?"
The manager pursed her lips. "In theory, I'm open to it." She sat back down and reached into the desk cabinet to pull out a boilerplate agreement. "I will need both of your written consent, of course, and that will be binding."
The woes of working with partially delegated responsibility. It was the price for their haste and Zarina was clearly not the most eager to work through layers. But it was necessary. The taller girl shook just as did Marceline. “I can agree to this as well.” she replied with some conjured up enthusiasm.
Marceline was to sign first, but both would take a thorough look at their trial-period engagement. “My colleagues in the industry always spoke highly of Sealy's when times were uncertain. Back when the Sea Fox had her way with the Ensollian waters.” Zarina's manufactured enthusiasm become something more genuine as she seized the pen when her turn came to sign. “I'm looking forward to meeting the man himself.”
The woes of working with partially delegated responsibility. It was the price for their haste and Zarina was clearly not the most eager to work through layers. But it was necessary. The taller girl shook just as did Marceline. “I can agree to this as well.” she replied with some conjured up enthusiasm. Marceline was to sign first, but both would take a thorough look at their trial-period engagement. “My colleagues in the industry always spoke highly of Sealy's when times were uncertain. Back when the Sea Fox had her way with the Ensollian waters.” Zarina's manufactured enthusiasm become something more genuine as she seized the pen when her turn came to sign. “I'm looking forward to meeting the man himself.”
Ten minutes had passed and Marceline was skipping, springing high up into the air with each step. "We did it!" she proclaimed boldly, landing nimbly and spinning a half-pirouette. Her dress flared out around her like a daffodil. "You and me, suunei! We fucking did it!" She waved the paper about and held it out towards Zarina. "It should probably go in the folder now," she self-corrected, straightening out a battered corner. "Before it goes 'poof!' just like all our money!"
Zarina was a little more composed than her younger equal. Still, her bright and wide smile said it all. She was quick to swipe the paper from Marceline and shove it into the plethora of paperwork they had accumulated. “That we did, suunei. Now we just gotta actually enforce this shit. Chances are we'll need to grease up some more wheels.” she remarked with healthy pessimism but a whole lot of optimism sprinkled in as well. “'Our' money?” she snorted. “I've got an old Varennes we can pop open tonight, before we get our guests to talk about the whole Penny thing. Figured we treat ourselves for once.”
"Okay, okay!" Marceline relented, "Poof like their money!" She returned to skipping, hair bouncing merrily as she went. "And poof like our entire futures if we lose their money!" She half-spun and smiled. "Livin' on the edge," she exclaimed, "but we've got this." She shook her head. "I dunno why, but I just think we really do." She took a deep breath and rushed back to grab hold of Zarina's hands. "This is the start of it all," she promised, not yet having come down from her high. The sun was vast and golden now, headed for the jagged horizon of rooftops and spires that was Ersand'Enise.
"And as for your wine," she replied, "You bring Ayla - because it just isn't a party without her." Marci winked mischievously. "I just might be coaxed to wait before heading to Méatu and not -"
POOF!
Just like that, Marceline was gone.
Record of people that really managed to piss me off. There are different degrees of ‘shit’, but if you got here, you must’ve really fucked up. Reading this list without my approval will also earn you a spot here. Fuck you.
The Shittiest Shitbags
Augusto Frannem-ass - You made me kill people for whatever sick gain of yours. How much more of a piece of worthless garbage do you have to be to use me like that. I don’t wish death on many, but I definitely do so to you. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU!!!!!!
The Shitty dirtbags
Trypano Something - It’s bad enough that you just bite people’s fingers off, but you’d let my friend Yuliya die for a quick buck too?! And THEN you have the fucking nerve to appeal to my sensitivities with that slime being ALIVE?! What about my friend?! Piece of unlikable trash. FUCK YOU.
Fiske Fagtraut - I have no idea what she sees in you. But I dislike you. I know you fucked up and she paid for it. You’re on thin ice. I know you steal shit from my house too. FUCK YOU.
Yvain Bitchnon - You owe me a lot. You’re staying here until you pay me back. Also, we all saw you side with that thing like the flaccid lesser man you are. And to think you’re gonna lead our biggest ally someday. FUCK YOU.
Arch Bitch Al-ASS-a - You cause a deadly mess and slap my teacher? Fuck off, I don’t care how prestigious you are. You’ve then imprisoned my friend and tried to fuck our moment of unity. I hate you with all my heart. FUCK YOU.
The Shitters
Ingy Sea Giant - I never had a real problem with you, but you are one terrible decision maker. You wave some demon around and help these shitty fuckers nearly kill me and my friend. I thought better of you. Fuck you.
Desmond - This broke my heart. I don’t care how much you were keen on turning on that thing, you risked my life and the life of my friend for material goods. I would never do that to any of you, or even people I don’t know. I don’t understand. I need to understand. Fuck you.
Patrick Peacock - You think I don’t realise you’re shorting me on those sugar deliveries? You condescending fuck. But your time’s coming, bud. It’ll be glorious. Fuck you.
It had been a long and arduous day. Business deals were made, slimes nearly killed her friend and friendships were forged. And yet Zarina’s journey was over. The hours of Dami blindsided Zarina with her Zenobucks outlet closing right as she was inclined to get another drink.
Time flew. And the imminent departure of the person she thought she had formed a special connection with hit her like a sack of bricks. Deep down, she hoped this chaotic day would never end.
She brought home leftover pastries and quickly made tuna pizza from the dough she had prepared in the early morning. It wasn't great pizza, but it was edible. The dough was a tad overcooked. Zarina, on the other hand, was undercooked. Little effort was put into looking fabulous. It was beyond her ability to look as fresh as a first date to someone she knew top to bottom quite thoroughly already. Except for the hair, always silky smooth and brushed beforehand with a bow to keep some more rebellious locks together.
Alone, in her room with the animals penned in Ayla’s room, she waited to have a final moment with Miret without any interruption. The pizza was on a towel draped over her bed, like a picnic but indoors.
Everything was just right to make a pleasant final date, but how was she actually going to say goodbye? How could she truly articulate what she felt? Was it wrong that she wanted more than just being another lover in the harem? The overthinking and stress caused Zarina to bite through the left thumb’s nail until she reached the corner.
"Hey luuchy," came a soft voice, and Miret appeared, hanging upside-down through her open window. "Trying to stoke my appetite, are you?" She hopped through the window, landing in a crouch, and took two steps toward Zarina, already reaching out to heal the damage.
Zarina deep dive in her thoughts left her vulnerable to a quick startle. “Luuchy yourself, Luuchy.” she extended her hand that needed healing, and then reached for Miret's once the deed was done. “I figured my lure would work. You underestimated me, Daring-one.” she winked as she seized a slice of pizza with her idle hand, folded it and hovered it close to the Yasoi's mouth. “Bet they don't make pizza with my special ingredient back in Tarlon.”
"I wouldn't be so sure," Miret replied, before taking a bite. "Cal can find just about anything, you know." She chewed a bit, positively unladylike as she continued. "So, what is it?" She smiled coyly. "Love?"
Zarina tried to stifle her grin and failed pretty handily. “Nooooooo ...” her legs swung restlessly as the answer took its time to come. “It's ...” after a brief staring contest she giggled. “Okay, yeah, it's love. Screw you for making it suck now.” she took a hearty bite herself.
“What's up with that Cal guy anyway?” Zarina inquired, barely concealing her distaste over the mention of another individual in Tarlon. “Isn't he, like, the guy that was selling drugs during the fights?”
Miret sighed. "Yeah, he's one of those Luuntese 'providers'." She shrugged. "He has his place, I guess." She took a few more bites, eagerly. "But he can't make a buudvuud like you can." The statement came with a smile and a giggle. "Luuchy, this is fuckin' delicious. Can you just like... cook for me forever?" The smile went from mirthful to appreciative, and then it fell away. "I love you." She glanced down at the food, or maybe just her lap, and then up at Zarina with an uncharacteristic shyness.
Zarina perked up, her heart skipping a beat. “Really? I thought I overcooked it and ...” her nervous ticks flared along with her muttering that spoke over Miret's words, or rather given how quiet she had gotten, were more so in the background.
“I-I ...” it felt unreal. The butterflies in her stomach were poised to make her cough out her pizza with how intense they were. Needless to say, she was flushed. “I love you too. Fuck.” she reached for both of Miret's hands and possessively clenched. “I love you. So. Much.”
It was her turn to look up to her lover with watery and pleading eyes. “Don't go.” she begged with a mousy voice, but one that didn't stutter or show any hesitation. “Please.”
A tear rolled, unbidden, down Miret's cheek. "Godsdammit, Luuchy." It dripped onto the pizza, wet and salty and soaking in. "I'm trying to eat here." Her voice was small, though, lacking most of its usual puckishness. She forced herself to swallow, put the pizza down, and leaned in wordlessly to simply embrace Zarina. That was all that she wanted to do. She didn't know why, but it was all that she could think of, even if it wasn't enough.
Zarina held for dear life, perhaps a bit too hard at some point, with her face dug into Miret's shoulder. She let the whimpers come out first before saying anything else. “Stay.” she pleaded again. “Don't go-” another invited sob nearly had her swallow her word. “-back.” the less experienced of the two swallowed in an attempt to compose herself. “I'll love you forever. And never let you get hurt.” she whispered by Miret's long ear she loved to nibble. “So you won't live this long life alone.”
Miret managed to separate to arms' length. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. Quietly, one of her hands slid from Zarina's shoulder and pressed itself to her heart. "I never will," she said with all the gravity and solemness that befit an unshakeable promise. "I'll always be in there and you'll always be in here." Her other hand pressed itself to her heart. "But that's..." She shrugged weakly. "Shitty, empty stuff and it fades over time and distance." She regarded Zarina, eyes wide open, even if they were puffy and red-rimmed. "I won't always be here, but I'll always be in your life and, if you'll have me, you'll always be in mine."
Miret sniffed and gathered herself a bit. "This stupid war won't kill me. I know it and, if it does, Tyrel will move heavens and earth to bring me back. That's how she is." There was a deep breath, as if she had decided on a path. "You're good and honest and smart and beautiful and I would never hurt you so help me Ypti, cross my heart." She made the gesture with her free hand. "But I want you to live. I know you don't like our Tarlonese way, but here I am: Tarlonese. Don't pine for me. Don't set things or people aside. I'll always be yours even if I'm not there at the moment. I'll be yours for as long as both of us last, okay?"
Zarina shivered. Miret's words did little to pacify the tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked away, unwilling to accepted the vague notions of the heart and memories bound to fade. Until Miret echoed exactly what was ringing in her head. Zarina was blurry, but knew her crying lover was there. She reached out to cup the Yasoi's wet cheek, lovingly stroking it with her thumb. “Gods, I love you.” she uttered with a near muted voice.
“I-” Zarina chuckled nervously, sniffling intensely. “I dunno about smart, I did fall for a Tarlonese.” she jested and nodded at her lover's proposition. “I want you in my life, Miret.” she spoke with great clarity as the tears dried on her face and the sobs died down. “But I'm a greedy, greedy girl. An avaricious little dragon.” her hand reached for Miret's nape to tug her a little closer. “I wanna be that one person ...” she whispered as if she was confessing a secret. “That one only person that makes you heart skip a beat like you do mine. Me,” she leaned in closer, lips so closer to the other's. “and me alone.”
She stopped right before their lips met. “But I know I can't. I-I know.” she began to tear up again. “I'll be sad. For a bit. But I'll survive, just like you.” she forced a smile, one that tried to radiate some confidence. “And I'll see you again, and we can try this again. No War. No fucking Tarlon. No fucking hating myself over loving. Just us.”
There it was: the forbidden bit at the end: No fucking Tarlon. Miret swallowed. She often felt the same way. While Chad had always been a believer in the cause - or was it ironic in his sometimes infuriating manner - and Tyrel's grievances were kept mostly private and released only in little bursts of annoyance, Miret had often found herself questioning and straying.
That was... until Solcuura. Until Sairax'Solcuun and what she had seen at the palace: the casual decadence and cruelty of the royals, how most of the ruling class had simply used their money and power to flee and become parasites elsewhere, how the Queen, herself, had threatened to blow the towers and wipe out half of the city unless she was allowed to walk free. She had heard Chad's recollection of how the death ray had been modified to turn on the city if need be. She had walked the streets and witnessed for herself the dark dens and the rot, the slavery, the exploitation, the blinding of timewalkers and their use as mules for others' addiction. She had seen it all and her certainty that her people were wrong had wavered. Tarlon did not keep slaves. Tarlon did not blind timewalkers. Tarlon did not allow the consumption of aberrations except by express permission of the people's councils.
She said nothing of that, though. She didn't want any conflict now. She still didn't trust her leaders. Likely, they were doing this for their own reasons. Life was not the luminous, wonderful thing she'd thought it was as a child, venturing through forests and ruins with Tyrel, Chad, Velani, and Ashon. People in power exploited. People in power lied. Then, she caught herself. "Hey, bucko," she griped, after a long moment had passed. "I happen to live there, ya know." She wiped some tears away, and did the same for Zarina's. "But this pizza recipe, I want it. I'll cook it for myself and Chad and Tyrel and it'll remind me of you, okay?" She nodded encouragingly, partly to convince herself. "It'll remind me of you until all this bullshit blows over and we can be us, again: just us." She lifted it to her mouth, stained with tears and all, and took another bite. "Cold and extra salty," she laughed. "Mmm mmm!"
But would you still love what I'd become after so much time and distance? Zarina thought just as she expressed her wishes. She was convinced this had gone beyond a honeymoon phase, that it was genuine. And yet, by the nature of what they both were and the state of their worlds, she could only begin to doubt. Would I love you?
“Okay, I didn't mean it like that.” Zarina conceded with a hint of a more genuine smile one her. “Fuck our countries for keeping us apart. Fuck 'em for making love so complicated ...” she snuggled up to the pizza-enjoying Miret, seeking her warmth one last time. “Mmm. Look up mozzarella and marinate some tuna in veggie oil. That's it. Oh and overcook it. And love, don't forget loads o' love.” she looked up and stole a bite from the Yasoi's slice. “Now I need something to remember you by. And I'm almost out of sex-lettuce.” she grinned like a fox before going for another bite, but this time on her lover's jawline.
“I meant it, though,” she looked up with wide, adoring eyes and a slightly deeper voice than her normal - a result from all the sobbing. “if we wanna try this again later ... I wanna be the one. Not just another one.” she clammed up, hesitating to ad one final bit. “See me like Tyrel sees that beautiful boy. Chad, right?”
It was all going well. It was painful, but it was right. Miret could feel it. "I shall commit the recipe to heart, even the extra crispiness from my crispy lil' fucker here."
She smiled softly, but then came the part at the end, and her heart tightened. She looked down, not trusting herself to meet Zarina's eyes. "Luuchy, no," she squeaked. "Please no. Don't ask that of me." She swallowed, threading her fingers nervously together. "It is the giving and receiving of Ypti's pleasure, freely and joyously among the community, that keeps us together, and people want me. They... need me." Abruptly, she hugged her knees together. "You are my luush'elar. You are the one my heart beats for, but I cannot deny the simple and necessary pleasures of Ypti to others when they are mine to give." She brought her brows together, concerned, the taste of burnt pizza still sooty in her mouth.
This was not what Zarina wanted to hear. But it was also what she expected. She wondered why she even bothered, and her heart knew why. She hoped to be the exception of a cardinal rule Miret's people lived by. There would be nothing more special. She was genuinely selfish in this very moment, beyond the perspective of a Tarlonese, by putting this on her lover. She knew this, but she also needed it.
With a clenched jaw, Zarina kept her piece. She wanted to be mad and call out this supposed "necessity". Had she fucked anyone else in her soirée? Did unity and friendship require the most intimate and raw pleasures? Passion and sadness were melding with a growing frustration she couldn't air out and it was asphyxiating.
“I need you ...” she muttered under her breath.
She shook her head, resolved to not make this more painful than it already was. She reached out for Miret's hand to tug it off her knee and squeezed. “It's okay.” she leaned in to press her lips upon the Yasoi's forehead. “I'm sorry. Being your luush'elar ... Is enough.” It was enough, for now, but she wasn't cruel enough to add that final bit. She shot a reassuring smile. “I suppose your one special girl being a Huusoi is already a pretty big thing, huh?”
A thought just hit Zarina as she wordlessly hopped off her bed and dug an ornate, five-inch high wooden box from a closet. Inside was a black egg with scale-like patterns on the shell. Cupping it with both hands, she offered it to Miret. “Keep it with you, it's kinda hard to break.” she nodded to ensure it was okay to take. “I'll be with you, in a way. And when danger finds you alone, eat it.” her hands slid over Miret's once she'd taken it and closer them around the Primordial Egg, for her to keep.
Miret hadn't expected any lashing out, but she'd prepared for it anyhow. It was moments like this one that reminded her of how different they were: of how doomed this all was. She swallowed, painfully, about to speak and fill the silence, but then Zarina did, and she listened. "You are a pretty big thing," She admitted in return, managing a teasing smirk.
But then it had come time for gifts. She cradled the strange egg, knowing what it was. "So this is what dragons..." She trailed off and grinned. "You are just the best thing ever." She held it to her heart. "I will always treasure it," she promised. "I will never lose it," she swore. "And when I'm totally up shit creek at some point and about to die and not be bailed out by Tyrel again, I might even use it." She leaned in close. "And I won't be as far away as you think, you know." She winked. "Trust me. Okay?"
Abdel’s head pounded to the systolic rhythm that hammered relentlessly, causing him to rudely wake up. His heart was not beating fast, but it was beating hard, so much so that it overshadowed the intense prickling in his feet that caught up quickly enough.
It was impossible that he felt those so early, he had taken an aberration just a few days ago! His hands hastily reached for his limbs to find a wound, only to come out empty. He was, in fact, feeling las hormigas with the painful dullness that came with their endless gnawing. Distraught, her smacked his palms over his face to wallow, only to find a wetness on them.
Blood …?
From his nose he found some of it still leaking. It then came back to him, the sacrifice he had done for the others to keep the Arch Zeno in check. It all made sense. Dayanara went to lick his face as he recognized what had happened. Quickly he drew toward their last known location.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub …
Just one heartbeat, one that came with a less familiar energy signature than the others.
Zarina, Tku, Rikard? Where are you?
No matter where he searched, he could find them. And yet Alassa Tojarra, the reason they had risked their lives, slowly awoke from a chemical coma without an ounce of resistance put onto her. Something had happened. He had to intervene.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub …
“We’re going.”
Abdel pushed himself off with his arms and took a step-
“Argh fuck!” he growled and slammed his fist onto a nearby surface. The ants were far more intense than he had estimated, leading to an acute pain that quickly vanished. It wasn’t so much difficult to walk as it was unusually uncomfortable. He could only imagine the damage going on down there.
He soldiered on, Skuggvars in tow, until he infiltrated the ruined Enclave.
Once in range, he stomped onto the gravel with his final step to get the magicless Arch Zeno’s attention, hiding the pain induced wince from the gesture. He stood a good thirty yards away from her.
“What did you do to them?” he asked, one hand on Qadira’s shoulder to keep her close, while Dayanara circled around Tojarra.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
Alassa Tojarra was unafraid and her regular pulse was proof of it. Even magically naked, pillaged and defeated she did not falter. It made Abdel a tad tachycardic.
The Arch Zeno shrugged. “They’re gone. Far away from here.” she rubbed her bruised chin. “If you’re here to avenge them, make it quick.” she barely acknowledged Abdel, and only gave a cautionary glance at the nearby dragon.
“I can’t let you go.” Abdel, in an attempt to look stern and immovable, looked rather green with his typically teenage voice. One thing he did nail was a proper stance, but even that looked so little to Alassa’s stone hard posture.
“I will not bring them back.” she spat back viciously as she turned around toward one of the violet buildings. “Kill me or leave, darhannic, but don’t waste my time.”
Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
Even in her hate and haste, she never faltered. Abdel was intimidated. This wasn’t like Niallus, an easily impressed young man that hardly thought his actions through. This was a titan, even without magic.
“I’m not Darhannic.” he corrected, sounding like a petulant child called a no-no name.
“I recognize your type. And the way you do things. Like that detestable girl.”
Lub-dub-Lub-dub-Lub-dub-Lub-dub-Lub-dub.
“That’s what you savage sand apes do.”
Abdel recognized the heartbeats, the tone and the sentiment. For a moment, he almost thought he had been talking to his shower-thought self. The aggressive voice he consistently argued and fantasised with in his alone time. And there it was, under the form of a hateful woman. Such clarity was short lived as his feet ached once more. Or perhaps this interruption only accentuated his increasingly extreme feelings.
“I can’t kill you. You will bring them back.” he answered somewhat meekly, but made a show of force with a light surge to her nerves, to which she inhaled deeply and flexed her muscles.
“You’re the one that stopped me. Tethered and strong.” she smirked. “I can see you tremble. You’ve done all that just to get me.” Tojarra opened her arms to taunt him. “If you’re not going to kill me, then you may as well let me go. They won’t execute me - not after this. Not with what's become of the world.”
He could barely hear her anymore. His heart was killing him from all the anxiety and hesitation he was feeling.
Just put her to sleep. You must!
Abdel drew to capacity quickly enough. Tojarra didn’t even flinch despite her lack of defences. She only turned her head to grin his way.
She’ll never give them away. I can see it. She’s suffered everything I could do to her before.
The tethered clenched his fist, only to then suddenly fall onto his knee and wheeze out a grunt of pain. His legs shook in overexertion, prompting her Skuggvar to poke his side with her snout.
“You’re finally getting it.” uttered Tojarra with a voice that mellowed from her taunting and resentment demeanour. “You won’t ever find them if you kill me, and giving me to the new administration won’t provide the justice you want. All you can do is …” she began to walk. “Let me go.”
I need to keep her here! I need to do SOMETHING! I need to-
Drops of blood fell from his nostrils once more. In his overthinking he had pushed himself once more. All for nothing. Lost and forlorn as a child that thought himself more mature and harder than he truly was.
Abdel walked into the Merchants’ dorm’s kitchen, sweaty and with a sleeveless green top going along with old, brown shorts.The young teen seized a cup of water and drenched his head to cool off as he took a seat.
The budding handiman had been making extensive use of his regained mobility to work his masonry and carpentry. An art that one would believe magic had made obsolete, but oftentimes the finesse and meticulousness of the art were lost to the grand scheme of things. Much like the overly ‘perfect’ gems many binder counterfeiters made, the same would be said about the genetically adequate works commonly made by mages. Good money was found to those who kept the practice alive and even more so to those who married magic into it seamlessly.
He didn’t do it without help, as Maid Melana followed soon after. She had been the help - the one to keep the materials in order and helped the builder when requiring more than a single pair of hands. “Thanks for the help.” said a still nearly heatstroked Abdel as he regarded the puppet, although he clearly wasn’t addressing the inanimate object.
A pair of hands clasped the jug as Maura came forward to fill the boy’s glass up again. “There is something to be said about watching a strong man working hard with his tools; how could we allow the possibility slip us by?” She smiled with that cheeky charm as she considered the words. It was nice to spend time in Abdel’s company, and even if they were just casually interacting, just feeling his presence near her made her feel happy, content even. They have been together for nearly a year now, and with others already vividly discussing their marriage plans, such thoughts were not lost with her, especially as she was assisting Ashon and Penny with their wedding arrangements. They were still young, but perhaps one day… she smiled shyly as she moved to pass him a towel so he could dry himself off. “Have you given thought as to your plans for your special project?”
Abdel couldn’t get enough of the freshwater, both to wash himself and to drink. It really was that hot! “Ahhh.” he forgot his manners and went full commoner in his indulgences, if only briefly. “Actually,” he leaned forward, elbows resting over his thighs, as he looked at Maura. “I have. I got inspired yesterday.” his eyes shifted to the helper puppet and gestured for it to come closer. “They keep hammering the use of healing in binding classes, and here I am building stuff. So I thought …” with the puppet at arm’s reach, he seized one of the delicate, wooden hands to study it. “Why not meet them halfway?”
With that cryptic response, he reached for his bag with his free hand to reveal an arm similar in dimensions to the puppet’s, albeit a tad thicker and clearly made of a new material. Furthermore, there were goma tubes sticking out of the stump. “It took me all evening to make Ironwood work, but I think it came out alright. I was thinking: If weapons can have these manas flow through them, why not puppets? Like people do with blood.”
Maura simply smiled as she watched him. There have been many Yasoi refugees recently fleeing the war in the south, and it is not uncommon for the casualties to be maimed in some way. She mused as she imagined him feeling that empathy in his heart to help them, and after engaging with the puppets; it made sense. “There are prosthetics in Segonia where you have to use the gift to mobilize. They are very difficult to manage, and are inanimate. We don’t know of any that allow manas to flow through them, though…” she raised her eyebrow in curiosity, hoping he could expand his thought process. “Are you thinking of helping others with them?”
Abdel’s eyes flickered between Maura and the puppet. He drew, just mildly, to observe the many functions that occurred within himself and his beloved. The blood flow, in particular, had his interest. He imagined the same could be done to puppets, and eventually to people with new limbs. “I think so, yeah.” he beamed at the part-Segonese puppet master. “I think the first step is to see if it works on things that aren’t alive. Don’t you think?” the hand he had been holding was then twisted, and his magnetic pull caused the elbow joint of the maid to loosen enough for the forearm to be carefully extracted.
“Would you mind opening her for me, love?” he inquired with a sweet, cotton-like voice he often employed to calm Maura in one of her monologues. “I’d like to see the core.”
“Now, what is the magic word~?” Maura cooed in return, simply to prolong the interaction to tease him. She allowed the puppet to bend to allow comfortable access to its innermost workings for maintenance, otherwise known as its core. “Though, if you damage her, we are placing the repair bill on your tab.” in a gentle reminder to be careful.
Abdel rolled his eyes playfully. “Pretty please.” he uttered right before diving into the complex workings of the prime puppet. Fascinated but by no means surprised, he immediately got to work. The wires he had crafted stretched from the bicep, through the shoulder and snaked through the metal structural beams to eventually reach the mana-filled container serving as a means to increase the capacity of the puppet and a base to reconstruct it in the case of destruction. “It’s kind of like a heart, isn’t it?” he remarked, nose still dug deep into his work.
The main conundrum was making an opening to connect the tubes. “... You won’t get too mad if I make a mess, right?” he looked up to Maura sheepishly.
She rolled her eyes as he asked that question, as she gave him a playful smile. “If we did, we certainly chose the wrong boy to be dating.” She stuck her tongue out towards him in that mischievous manner. “Just as long as you clean up afterwards.”
Abdel chuckled and shook his head. He got to work, meticulously creating an opening onto the metal haul. The carving was slow, minute and did not go all the way. Instead, he made enough of a gap to fit the tub in before locking it in place. There was blood magic used to finish the hole, very minor but still blood magic nonetheless, prompting Abdel to look up to his partner if there were any objections.
Once the tube was plugged in to serve as the puppet’s fire artery, he observed the mana-charged liquid flow … For a second. “Ah.” he looked disappointed. “There’s nothing to really make it flow, is there?”
Maura simply shook her head, “Puppets don’t have a beating heart inside of them, even if they can be lifelike.” She paused for a moment, “You could use a waterskin, connect it to both sides, then you could squeeze it like a heart, probably. Might need some refinement.” She used her chair to go backwards, then head over to pick up a waterskin and bring it back for Abdel to use.
Abdel drilled a second hole to allow the other extremity of the artery within the unbeating ‘heart’ as none of the fluid ever made it to the end. “You’re right,” he agreed, lips pursed as he rethought the process. “if we could actually make that core take the consistency of a waterskin, then maybe you could make it work like a heart?” with the item in hand, he carefully approached it to the metallic nut in the centre of the puppet. “Ideally, we make the material change without removing anything.” with a lack of chemical magic, however, he relied solely on binding magic. And he was no Trypano when it came to memorising all materials.
Maura spent a good few moments considering what they could use, taking some inspiration from their surroundings. “We have an idea, though we might need some prototypes first. We need to make an internal structure, and this could be binding some springs together, then we surround this by thin sheets of metal. We would need a value to prevent the liquid going back the wrong direction. Then, we wield the sheets and tubes together, so it is a tight seal. If we squeeze it, it should pump around in one direction, and drain back into the heart.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Do you think that is something you can put together?”
Abdel thought about it. In his musing and having his marble presented physically before him, he realized his masterwork needed far more work to be done. “I can.” he confirmed. “But it will take some time. A lot of it.” with that concession, he manipulated the tubes and made the fluids return into the core before he quickly sealed the holes. He did not remove the tubes, however. “The arm should still work, but you would have to learn to use it.” he warned, just as he employed his magnetic magic to make the puppet’s fingers wiggle and the forearm to expand ever so slightly into something that resembled a metal buckler. “It’d work much better if it had a steady and direct stream of power but …” he gesture his index finger to prompt the puppet to punch the floor, prompting the stone to leave a small fissure on impact. “I suppose ironwood with mild enhancement will do!” he grinned impishly at his girlfriend. “She might even be able to lift you up, now!”
“Why would we need her for that, when we have you~?” Maura teased as she held her arms out towards him.
Abdel tried to hide his big fat smile, but there it was. He leapt at her and caught Maura out of her chair for a mighty lift. His noodle arms weren’t so weak nowadays with all that carpentry and masonry. “Downside with me is I don’t take orders!”
She smiled mischievously, “The best ones don’t need them.” as she leaned forward to place a fond kiss on the boy’s lips.
In the endless ringing to tinnitus in his ears, the merciless pounding of his distressed hard and the cruel pricking of his feet, he found some sort of clarity. No other sounds could penetrate his mind. None except the heart of the woman he had no real control over.
No.
The blood that ran through her body flowed so perfectly. The answer to a question that gnawed at his mind for days was right before him.
The silence enlightened him: There was nobody to cast judgement. Nobody could see what was behind the mask. Nobody other than a prisoner deemed kindred, and the Gods - the very ones that cursed him and his tethered friends into this pitiful existence.
“It’s not for them. Or for their Justice.” he muttered, barely audible to Tojarra but enough for her to stop and turn. “I don’t wanna kill you. Or give you away. Because I agree with what you stand for.” it was still Abdel’s voice, the non-threatening cracked one that oozed of awkwardness, but it was charged with purpose. And his intense gaze under his worker’s beret matched the Arch’s.
“Another one of these pathetic games? Or are you serious?” she shook her head and reconsidered even the notion of entertaining this.
“But I can’t let someone like you just walk free.” he shook his head like she did. “It makes me so angry to see how vapid and cruel this effort for Justice has made you. We could have done good work together if you weren’t such a resentful hag that would sooner see the world burn than let a few clueless peons run free in their sand dunes. Or denigrate someone for where they were born.”
Lub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dub …
The tachycardic melody only drove him more as he reached into his only pouch where something uneasy wiggled more and more.
Tojarra chuckled into a laugh. “You don’t know a thing ab-” she quickly turned to the right to face an unusually close gurgle.
Qadira was merely staring at her with no signs of hostility.
With a deep exhale, Alassa Tojarra straightened herself and looked back, only to be greeted by a massive, leathery maw that sucked in the entirety of her head. She couldn’t utter a word, and a few seconds in, she lost consciousness.
The Arch Zeno fell unconscious once more.
Although this time, there would be no friendship circle or ambitions for a brighter tomorrow.
There was only fire and malign inspiration, as the heartbeats silenced themselves into a bitter murmur.
Like my friends, I won’t give up on you. Nor will I let them, or yourself, ruin the work you’ve done, Arch Zeno Tojarra.
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