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A Proper Workout Scene: Down By the Hellmouth In spite of just how exhausted he felt, sleep had proven to be elusive for James - for hours and hours, the midday light creeping in through the edges of his bedroom curtains, he’d lain there, tossing and turning, unable to dwell upon anything but the growing self doubt that he wasn’t up for this, that he’d lost his edge, that he’d been wrong to attempt the rescue in the first place. In the end, with a growl and a glance at an alarm clock that signaled quarter to three in the afternoon, he’d dragged himself out of bed, and, after a quick plunge under a very-much-welcome shower, headed out. Clearly, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep all this off… so he’d settle for the next best thing and work out until his muscles ached even more and his knuckles were raw. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d even find someone to spar with. - The day I tried to win I walled in the blood and mud with all the other pigs And I learned that I was a liar He’d driven about half way when his car’s radio had crackled and then frozen completely, stuck on an endless loop of Chris Cornell singing the same verse, over and over. With an annoyed growl and a muttered, “loving wizards…”, his knuckles white as he clutched the steering wheel tightly in frustration, James turned off down a side street and pulled over, turning the car off. With one quiet last verse, the radio soon joined it. Resting his forehead against the steering wheel, James sighed - this was just what he’d needed, on top of everything else the day had thrown at him, now his car was on the fritz, too. For what seemed like an age, he just sat there, tapping his forehead on the wheel, pondering just how the hell he'd dig himself out of this mess, stewing in his own misery. Until his phone chimed, anyway, the jingle snapping him out of his funk as it signalled he had an email waiting. Pulling out his phone, he pulled up the email - the title had a keyword he'd given out to a few people since he'd gotten into town. It was a signal, a call for immediate aid. quote:ATTN: Pharsalus. Demon sighted. As he opened the map and looked it over, James pondered the message. Reston was, even by paranet standards, an interesting gentleman. Somewhere in his fifties, the older gentleman was blessed by a form of magic he called occulomancy - all the magic he could manage manifested using his own eyes as a conduit, and since he couldn't control it all the time, he wore a heavy pair of red spectacles. Between that, his fondness for tie-dye and an aroma he'd no doubt acquired from smoking something other than tobacco, he seemed, at least at first glance, like the cross between an x-man and someone stuck in the summer of love. But James had seen him do incredible things when picking out a pattern amongst visual chaos, and knew he ran a charity that helped feed and clothe the homeless, so it fit that he'd hear about something preying upon them. And it just so happened that the side road he'd stopped down wasn't far from the dilapidated warehouses where the creature had been sighted. Well… hunting down a demon wasn't exactly a trip to the gym, but James was pretty sure that sending one back to hell would still be a good enough outlet for him to work out his frustrations. - The group of warehouses Reston had directed him to was a monument to urban decay, each one looking more run down than the last. And, to make things worse, in the distance, he could see the burnt out husk of what had been another such warehouse - even from this far away, looking at it made his hair stand on end and his skin crawl. Whatever was the cause, there was something deeply wrong about it. Little wonder the demon had made its home here, then. James had parked as close as he could - which, thanks to several roads being blocked by stripped down car chassis, wasn't nearly as close as he wanted - and geared up, holstering his pistol under a sport coat and strapping his sword and knives onto his belt. Given the day he'd had, he couldn't be too careful, which is why a hip flask of holy water and a few other tricks found their way into his pockets before he locked the car up and headed into the maze of warehouses, off in search of a monster. Abandoned and dilapidated as the buildings were, they weren't empty - as he stalked toward where the creature was supposed to be, he caught sight of makeshift camps, of smoldering barrels used to warm someone on a cold winter night, and even, a few times, fearful, haggard eyes of worried people, peering out and watching him. He kept walking forward, one step after another - there was no moral dilemma here, nothing to make him question himself. This was a Monster with a capital M. And after the day he'd had, it was exactly what he needed. He'd been walking for some fifteen minutes when he finally reached the warehouse where Reston's last sighting had taken place. Stepping through a collapsed wall, he took everything in - in one corner, under a sheltering overhang, was the remains of a camp, battered and stomped in a struggle. The opposite wall had been smashed in, and judging by the dust and rubble, it was recent. And, worst of all, the place utterly stunk of sulfur. Kneeling down, James searched for tracks - and tried not to think about the gouged out scratches on the floor that looked distinctly like claw marks while he did so. It took him a little while, but Mateusz had taught him well during their time together, and soon enough, James stalked off in pursuit of the demon, hoping whoever it had taken was still alive. (James, Notice: -++/ +4 = +5) It didn’t take long for him to hear the telltale sounds of gnawing somewhere above him, and as he slipped out through the damaged wall he saw a rickety, rusty old fire escape that led to the roof of the half-rotten building. Several of the ladder’s rungs were twisted as if something strong and heavy had used it recently, and a few were missing - one look at it was enough to make him pause and look around to see if there was another way up, but, unfortunately, any stairs inside appeared to have long since collapsed. Hoping it'd hold his weight (and not creak too much in the process), James scaled the ladder as stealthily as he could manage. At the top of the ladder the roof was wide open, pockmarked with holes, and a large, gray-furred beast sat with its back to him. It looked ape-like, from what he could see. Huge, hunched shoulders defined its silhouette, bulging biceps, and thick, sausage fingers tipped with claws. Bones were scattered over the roof, and the remains of old backpacks and torn clothing too. No blood though. The demon must be a thorough eater. As he watched, it tossed a well chewed femur aside, and it clattered away into a pile of others. Crouching at the edge of the roof, James glared in anger at the monstrous creature as it feasted upon what had once been a person. It was an abhorrent thing, and he didn't intend to let it leave here and prey upon someone else. Slowly, careful not to make a sound, he drew his weapons and took aim with his pistol. This wasn't the best range for a shot like this, but he didn't want to risk alerting the thing. Squeezing the trigger twice, he fired a pair of shots, straight into the demon's back. (Pre-round! James, Combat Attack: —+ +5+1 = +4 &W:2 vs flat defense (due to ambush) +1, 5 shifts. Ape Demon takes a mild (Shot through the back, But I'm too late) and 3th box!) quote:Ape Demon: ( ) ( ) (X) (X) (X ) The demon collapsed forwards in shock, roaring in a very un-ape-like manner, and when it turned around James saw a face with two jutting maws, tongues lolling out madly between saberteeth, and six bright red eyes, none of which were paired in any sensible way but simply scattered over the front of the head like dropped pennies. It charged at him, a shuffling run on two stumpy back legs while the arms reached forwards, claws extended, trying to crush him into a deadly hug. (Round 1 Start! Ape Demon rushes forward to try for a grapple CA! Physique: /–/ +4 = 2! James defends with Athletics: /-+/ +5 = 5! SWS! Gets a boost: (Can’t touch this) Puck to James. Like a matador before a bull, James stepped aside from the wild charge at the exact right moment, the demon's grabbing claws clutching at nothing more than air. "Too slow!" he taunted. He could feel his blood pumping, the rush of an adrenaline surge, the thrill of the hunt. Dancing around the creature, he lashed out with his blade, sharp steel slicing through the flesh on the demon's back. (James, Combat Attack: +++/ +5 = +8 vs Ape Demon, Athletics: /++- +3+1 = +5. Using the mild's tag for a +2, countered by a GMFP (7->6) on "Big, Dumb and Hungry" Takes 3 stress, rolls up to 4th box. End round 1! Puck to Ape Demon.) It let out another animal squeal, and by now maroon blood was pooling on the floor under the demon, squelching under his toes and under James’ boots, too. It lunged again, this time with both mouths open for a double bite. (Round 2 start! Ape Demon attacks. Physique: -/++ +4 = 5! James defends, Athletics +--/ +5 = 4, then tags his boost (Can’t touch this!) to avoid stress. Puck to james.) The demon's teeth all looked like they were made for tearing through meat, and James wanted no part of them if he could help it. Keeping his feet moving, he stepped out of reach, flinching as the jaws snapped shut inches away from him. Still, it gave him an opportunity too good to miss out on, so he promptly lifted his pistol and shot the thing in the face. (James, Combat Attack: -/+/ +5+1 = +6 & W:2 vs Ape Demon, Athletics –+/ +5= 4, 4 stress rolls up to 5th box. End round 2. Puck to James.) Either the demon didn't need whatever was behind that ugly face, or it was just plain too stubborn to fall from a bullet through the head. After a brief pause to glance from his pistol and the hole in its face and back again, James muttered, "Well that wasn't very sporting." Raising his aim, he fired again. (James, Combat Attack: //-/ +5+1 = +5 & W:2 vs Ape Demon, Athletics: -//+ +6 = +6. James invokes on “Venatori’s Loose Cannon” (FP:5->4) to go for the kill!) For the second - and final - time, a bullet hit the ape demon in what James assumed was the creature's face. He took a step back as it wavered back and forth, vacant-eyed, lingering for a long moment as the rest of it gradually realised the damage was too much for its vessel to cope with - at which point it promptly crumpled down onto the roof, slain. He should have felt satisfied - after all, this was a job well done - but the fight was still in him. With a growl, he holstered his pistol and gripped the hilt of his blade tight with both hands, stepping forward. Over and over, he hacked at the creature with inelegant chops, making drat sure the thing was dead. The thing that finally interrupted him was the sound of clapping. Noisy, slow, clapping, and a female voice snorting with laughter. When he looked up there was a woman in biker leathers standing near the ladder. She had a short bob of tawny blonde hair and bared her teeth when she smiled. “Good fuckin’ job, guy,” she intoned, walking towards him and the demon corpse. “Not often someone beats me to a good kill.” Looking up from his impromptu workout, James took a deep breath and stepped back, lowering the sword to his side. Pointless though it had been to hack the thing's corpse up into a mutilated mess, given that it'd turn into ectoplasm soon enough, he felt better for it - he'd needed the chance to let loose on something. "I try my best," he replied, in between heavy breaths, "Wish I'd heard sooner, though. drat thing was near feral and preying upon the homeless." “Yeah, just got word through the grapevine…” She walked over to the corpse and gave one of the paws a good kick. Then she cursed. “Fuckin’ hell. Tell me something, new guy. You got the mate first right?” "These things come in pairs?" he asked, as right on cue, something below them roared. James rolled his eyes, and said, "Of course they do. Guess we gotta deal with Mrs Ape Demon, then, eh?" Heading back toward the ladder, he added as he sheathed his sword, "I'm James, by the way." “Tina,” said the woman. “You can tell if they’re missing the pinky on the right front paw. They bite it off each other when they choose a mate.” It had been the paw she kicked, to check. She sniffed at the corpse for a second then snorted again. “Mrs will be bigger, and real pissed. Sure you’re up for it after solo’ing Mr? I can get a couple friends to come down and mop up, it’s no big deal.” He took a second to look her over properly - judging by the patches on her vest, whatever friends she would call would likely be fellow members of whatever gang she was part of. But right now, he wasn't in the mood for walking away from a fight. "I'll manage," he replied, drawing his pistol just long enough to swap the half empty mag with a full one from a pocket, "Anything I should be aware of, before we dive into battle?" “Big kitty is your friend,” Tina said, stretching. “Might not need it but if we do, just so y’know.” "Don't aim at any cats, gotcha," replied James, swinging over the edge of the roof and onto the ladder, "Let's do this, then," he added as he started climbing down. — About an hour later, a scuffed up Florida panther and a scraped up James staggered out of what was left of the warehouse. Mrs. Ape had been a lot larger, meaner, and angrier than its mate and it hadn’t been an easy fight. Tina had gone through two clips of .9mm ammo before dropping to all fours and letting out a yowl, and James had been down to just his sword by the end too. Tina sat on her haunches and started placidly licking blood off her front leg. James slumped against the wall, chest heaving as he finally got a chance to catch his breath. Things had gotten dicey toward the end, there, and he was pretty sure he'd have a few new bruises by tomorrow… but, despite that, they'd slain the thing and made the city a little safer. It felt good to succeed in a mission again, one without moral questions. "Well done in there," he said after a long moment, "Tearing out its hamstring like that was an inspired choice. Honestly, couldn't have done it without you." Tina looked at him with bright yellow eyes, then padded over and butted her head against his shoulder, purring loudly. It was as much of a ‘thanks, you too’ as a big cat could give. After a moment she shook herself and started walking towards where she’d left her bike, and the change of clothes in the saddle bag. A couple minutes later she was back, wearing short-shorts and an ACDC shirt with some ancient sneakers, and having retrieved the jacket she’d left hanging on the ladder before the fight. She leaned against the wall next to where James was sitting and pulled a pack of cigs out of her jacket, offering him one. “Good poo poo,” she muttered. “Was gonna have to pull some of my guys in for that one, but I don’t like doing it. Kids miss their dads when they ain’t around enough.” She sighed, flicking her lighter. “Wish there was something we could do about all the breakthroughs but after that drat hurricane… It’s just one after another. Veil’s made of fuckin’ swiss cheese around here.” James refused a cigarette with a shake of his head. "I heard about that business," he replied - now that she'd pointed it out, it explained why that one burnt out warehouse had made his skin crawl, given what the report he'd read had said about it. "Before I got into town, 'course, but it sounded messy. Still, short of the city gentrifying the place and the church building a chapel, there ain't much to do but cut down anything nasty that claws its way through." “Pret-ty much.” She sighed, blowing a long stream of smoke out with it. “So when did you get into town? Feels like I'd have remembered a good-looking Thor knockoff if I’d seen you around before. You part of a group or a solo hunter?” “Got here a few months back - my uncle’s lived down here since he got out of the navy, see, and he finally wanted to retire. Asked me to run his business for him,” he explained with a sly grin at the compliment, “Solo, mostly. Got some folks in the local Paranet keeping eyes and ears open for signs of trouble, though. I’ve worked with the Warden occasionally, too. Helps to keep the local sheriff happy, eh? Even if he can be an arrogant prick at times.” “Never met him,” Tina said. “Not a big fan of cops, magic or otherwise.” "Fair," replied James with a shrug, "There's the odd good one out there, but there's only so much they can do with the system like it is, y'know? But then, the heck do I know? I did my time as a cog for Uncle Sam, working in the shadows like a good spook, only to get tossed aside as a madman, all 'cause I saw there was a supernatural world out there. So I went private, try and do some good, y'know? Can't even manage to do that right - too many drat moral questions, and here's me without that old killer instinct." She raised an eyebrow. “Your killer instinct looked just fine to me a minute ago.” "Demons like this, it's easy - they're monsters, through and through. No questions there," James replied, "But it's the damned edge cases that keep bothering me - where I gotta choose between being human and being this ruthless hunter. A while back, a friend of mine asked me to back her up while she met with this vampire. I figured it'd be easy, so I went in and acted the big man, tried to put the scare into him. But truth is, I was just being a bully - he wasn't any worse than me, and he was trying to do some good, too." Tina chuckled. “Guy, you sound like you need a drink. Or a steak. C’mon, I know a good place to get both.” She offered him a hand up. “I’m not any better with the moral quandary poo poo, ‘s why I just like handling the low level riff-raff. I let Mickey figure out the hard questions. He’s better at it, more likely to make the right decisions than I am.” James took her hand and pulled himself up onto his feet. "That probably makes you the smarter one here, honestly," he replied with a smile. "I'm parked over there, about ten minutes walk away," he asked, pointing in the general direction of his car. “I’ll give you a ride, save you the walk,” she said. It wasn’t a request. “Ever been to the House of the Rising Sun?” James shook his head - it'd been on a list of neutral sites in the intel pack he'd gotten when he arrived, but he hadn't had a chance to scope it out yet. "Nah. They do a good steak?" he asked. “The best.” Tina said, dropping the cig and grinding the ash down with a heel. “Always good to eat big after a hunt. Let’s go.”
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May 3, 2022 21:37
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Steak and Chips Scene: House of the Rising Sun The House was one of those places that brought ‘timeless’ to mind. The old brick building was a little faded, but the windows were bright and clean, with stained glass inlays of fleur de lis at the top of each one. A chalkboard sign sitting just outside the door declared ‘House Specials’, but James got the feeling this place catered more to the locals than the tourists nonetheless. The parking lot was half full when he arrived, and Tina was pulling up to park between five or six other motorcycles where they were gathered in the front of the lot. Inside was a little dark, a little smokey, and cozy as hell. A stage to the far side promised live entertainment some nights, and there were choices of tables or booths, most full. Tina blew right past the ‘wait to be seated’ sign, waving at the bartender like he was an old friend. He waved right back, then went back to pouring drinks for the crowd at the bar. Though the place had a welcoming vibe to it, it didn't entirely calm James' nerves - he wasn't hiding behind any mask here, after all. Tina's friends were meeting the real him, comfortable old jeans and plain t-shirt fresh with the signs of their fights with the demons and all - and that was something of a rarity for the former spy. That being said, he was far from the only one wearing the old blue-collar special. The owners of all those motorcycles out front were spread over three booths, one of them a big corner booth where their leader held sway. Most of them were either wearing the same jacket Tina had or at least had a patch or two featuring alligators, including the rough-looking guy in the middle of it all with the faux-hawk and aviators, small spikes on the shoulders of his leather vest, and a five-o-clock shadow that belonged on a movie screen. “Oi, Tina,” he said, with what sounded like an Australian accent. He tilted his shades down to give James a smirk. “Hey boys, look what the cat dragged in.” There were a couple of appreciative whistles. “Don’t be a bitch Mickey,” Tina shot back casually. “That’s my job. This is James, helped me knock over a pair of them gorilla fuckers down by the hellmouth.” That earned an entire second set of whistles, and an appreciative nod from Mickey. “Well, well, well! You must have some fight in you. It takes a lot to impress my Tina. Pull up a bench my friend. It’s dinnertime.” James flashed everyone a wide grin, reveling for a brief moment in their reactions before he took a seat. "Sounds like I arrived just in time then, eh?" he replied, "I could get used to having a steak after a hunt, honestly - it's drat hungry work, that's for sure." “Hunt, kill, eat,” Mickey said jovially. “That’s how our brains are wired, goes all the way back to the dinosaur days. If you’ve been skipping the third part, well, you’ve been doing it all wrong.” James nodded in agreement with the biker, replying, "For sure, but there's something different about a good steak, y'know? It's more than just a bite to eat - it's a reward." “I’ll say,” Tina agreed. She passed James one of the table menus. “You aren’t one of those well-done types are you? I might have to take back all the nice things I said about you if you are.” James shook his head with another smile, “Nah, medium-rare for me.” As he skimmed through the list of sides on the menu (and deeply pondered how many onion rings he could devour on top of a meal), he asked, “So, how does a motorcycle club end up involved in the monster hunting business, anyway?” “Demon-hunting,” corrected the bald, bearded man sitting next to Mickey. “Plenty of monsters around town who don’t need that sort of trouble.” Tina nodded sharply in agreement. “Call it a neighborhood watch effort,” Mickey said. “On account of the Church losing most of their fighting folks last year. There’s a lot of overlap between us and the parish so we like to pull our weight. What about you?” "Used to be a Fed. Saw a big beast of a demon get loose and reported it. They figured it was easier to call me mad than accept stuff like that, so I took retirement," James explained with a shrug, "Since then I went private, trained under a hunter named Mateusz. Tough old bastard. You'd like him - saw fighting monsters as his own personal mission from God." “Hm, maybe. Sometimes the solo hunters get a little too self-righteous for my tastes,” Mickey said. “And sometimes they start thinking anyone that’s not 100% bonafide human is a target. He’s not active around here is he? We like to keep tabs on anyone with a gun and a mission from God that blows through town, just for safety’s sake.” "Last I heard, he'd gone back to Europe. There was trouble along the coast of the Baltic Sea, and he wanted to look into it," James replied, "As for being hardline… all I can say is that he knew I had the gift, and he was always fair with me." “Well that’s something, though witch-hunting has fallen out of fashion in the modern age.” Mickey chuckled to himself. “Not going to say I’m a fan of having an ex-Fed in town, friendly or not, but we’ve all got flaws. Are you planning on sticking around for a while, James?” "Yeah. I came here to run my uncle's business for him while he retired, and while I've only been here a short time, I've already started to see why he settled down here after 'nam," James replied, "There's something about New Orleans that's different than other cities I've lived in over the years. Something that makes me want to stick around." “Oh yeah? What’s that?” The bald-headed man asked, curious. “And who’s your uncle?” Tina asked, just as curious. "My uncle's called Raymond Ivarson. Ran an antiques dealership," James explained before shrugging, "As for why… it's hard to explain. It's like… it already feels like home, y'know?" “Raymond’s Antiques? I know that place, got a nice table from there,” said bald-guy. “Dwayne, by the way.” “Is that the one with carved skulls in the legs?” Mickey asked. “Yeah the poker table,” Dwayne said, nodding. “Everything in that place is a little weird, I like it. Haven’t been back in a while though.” “Sounds like we’ll have to drop by sometime,” Mickey said, flashing a grin. “Nothing happened to the old man, did it? He was a decent sort,” Dwayne asked, concerned. “Nah, Uncle Ray’s good - he just decided that he wants to be able to sail his boat around the Caribbean while he’s still active enough to properly enjoy the experience,” James replied, “I know what you mean about his choices being a little weird, though. There’s a few things at the back of the warehouse that I can’t fathom why he bought them.” “It’s not much of an antique shop if half of the stock ain’t haunted, cursed, or something like it,” Tina said. “I’ll have you know that at least seventy percent of our stock is curse free,” replied James with a smile. “Do you charge more or less for the cursed poo poo?” Tina questioned, reaching over to steal some of Dwayne’s nachos. “Asking for a friend.” “Depends on the curse,” replied James with a wink, “Fun ones, more, the nasty ones, I try and get rid of.” Dwayne smacked Tina’s hand. “What did I tell you about asking.” Tina stuck her tongue out at him. “Fine. Pleaaaaaase.” “That’s better,” he said, shoving his plate over to where she could pillage it. “If you got anything too nasty to get rid of yourself there’s a guy by the name of Skinner runs a shop about three or four miles from yours, he does disposal work. Not sure if you’re the type to work with the competition though.” “Thanks for the heads up, I’ll have to look into him sometime,” replied James, “I can always use another way to get rid of bad curses, honestly. The more options, the better.” Just about then the waiter came by with everyone’s meals, including James, a big T-bone cooked just how he’d said he liked it. James dug in with gusto, his appetite more than ready to feast after the day he’d had - the steak was cooked to perfection, and like Tina had promised, it was good. For several long minutes there was no talk at the table at all, as both James and the shapeshifting bikers dug into their meal, but before everyone had quite finished another young woman wearing the Leatherheads jacket came into the bar and beelined for Mickey’s table. “Trouble, boss,” she said, before she noticed James sitting there. Her face scrunched up to see an outsider present and she held her tongue. Mickey, no stranger to the situation, motioned her to whisper in his ear, which she did. His easy smile vanished completely and his brows knit together. When she’d finished, he nodded. “Thanks Michelle. Tell Lou to keep an eye on them, but don’t engage. He knows what to do if they push too far.” “Kay boss,” Michelle said, reaching for her phone. She plopped onto the bench of one of the side booths to relay the message. “loving Fomor, I swear,” Mickey muttered, stirring a finger in the meat juice on his plate. “As if we didn’t have enough problems.” James looked up from his mostly demolished meal and asked, “Problems with our not-so-friendly neighbours from the deep?” “Understatement of the year,” Tina growled. “They use the canals like they own them. That’s our turf.” “We’ve been trying to stay out of their way,” Mickey said, reaching for a fresh beer can. “Sending the odd demon back to the pit is one thing, but the Fomor are organized, and there’s a lot of them. We try to hold our territory and we’ll lose. So far we’ve kept our people out of their fishy hands but some days it feels like it’s just a matter of time.” He sighed, obviously torn about the whole situation. “You ever fought a Fomor, James?” James shook his head, “No, but I’ve fought their henchmen before. They had some nasty tricks, that’s for drat sure.” He could still feel the puncture marks on his arm from the fight with Slimer. “If I could offer a suggestion?” “Can’t hurt,” Mickey said, shrugging. “If you can’t beat ‘em in a fight, and you don’t seem to be the sort of people to skip town and head further inland,” James mused, “Then you gotta find a third option, no? An ally, or a distraction, something to tweak the odds in your favour, y’know?” For a long moment Mickey didn’t say a thing. “...even with allies, it’s risky,” he said finally. “Once they know you’re against them, you’re a target. You gotta work a lot harder to keep your people safe and out of harm’s way.” “Seems to me that it’s going to end up reaching that point sooner or later anyway, ain’t it?” asked James. “Running ain’t an option,” Tina said quietly. “This is our home.” “Sure is,” said Mickey, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Let’s say I’ve been approached for that kind of alliance, but the one who wants to team up is… young and none-too-established yet. I might be slow, but I’m not stupid. Anyone offering us a partnership like that is doing it because they know we can fight. Which means my people are the ones going to be taking the risks, getting hurt or killed on the front lines until we run these fuckers the hell out of our city. Would you take that kind of deal, James?” James was pretty certain he could guess exactly who Mickey was talking about, even if the biker hadn’t mentioned Ada by name - after all, how many other inexperienced would-be leaders were running around the city, making pitches like that? Moreso, he knew that if he tried, he could probably push Mickey into signing up, too. But… the bikers had been welcoming to him, and it felt wrong to just manipulate them, more like something the James of old would have done. The least he could do in return was be open and honest. ((James is compelled on “Venatori’s Loose Cannon” to speak his mind. FP:4->5)) “Lemme guess, tiny redhead, full of dreams, ready to take on the world?” James asked. “Tinkerbell after you too?” Tina asked, surprised. “Makes sense, she’d reach out to her own kind first,” Mickey said. “What did she offer you, if you don’t mind me asking?” “She gave her pitch at a Paranet meeting I was at,” James explained, “She was promising strength in unity by setting up some sort of central authority to tell the monsters lurking out there to stop preying upon folks. It was… well, very idealistic, as I’m sure you can guess. But…” “I’m listening,” Mickey said, lighting a cigarette. They were all listening now, even the other booths had gone quiet. “What if she can actually pull it off, man? What if we really can build a peace like that together?” James asked. “You on board then?” Dwayne asked, crossing his arms. “Or still fence-sitting?” “I've been helping out, here and there," James replied, "like… I want it to be real, but I'm too wary to just go all in without seeing some proof she can do it." “Don’t want to back a losing horse, eh?” Mickey said. “Shame, it would've said something if she had someone like you in her corner.” "You flatter me, man. I'm just one guy," replied James before shaking his head, "But no, it's not that. I can survive backing a losing horse. I just want to know if she has the mettle for something like this before I commit." “I meant someone who knows how to scrap,” Mickey said, tapping his cig on an empty beer can. “Because if she convinced you she might be able to convince some others, and we wouldn’t be her only front line grunts. But it doesn’t sound like it. How many has she got, so far? Do you know?” James paused for a brief moment, pondering - nevermind muscle, he wasn't entirely sure if he'd seen anyone truly committed to Ada's cause, besides Ada herself. He replied, "No clue. Been a bit too busy to keep proper tabs on her, honestly." “Great.” Mickey shook his head. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. Would you take that deal with Ada duSang?” “I’d at least hear her out properly, see how the deal could benefit you,” replied James, “Like I said, you need allies to tip the scales against the Fomor. Might be, she’s just what you need. And if not, you lose nothing by hearing her out, right?” “Maybe not, but I’m not coming to the table with any leverage and I don’t like that. Especially given all the red flags in her family history…” He skewered a last little piece of fat on the end of his fork and twirled it idly between two fingers. “You’ve given me something to think about, James. I appreciate that kind of candor, especially from a stranger. Even if it wasn’t all that helpful.” "You're fellow hunters, least I can do is be honest with you, especially after a steak as good as this," replied James with a nod toward his all but empty plate, "As for Ada… she's only just starting out, right? Odds are, she needs to get you on board, to show people she can actually accomplish something. There's your way to make sure whatever she offers is mutually beneficial." “That’s true,” Dwayne said. “Going around the way she is… it’s not like she’s got options either.” “Yeah. She talked big but the more I think about it, this is one of them ‘We all hang together or we hang separately’ situations. At least as far as the Fomor are concerned.” “I don’t like that they’ve been messing with the pumping stations,” Dwayne said. “Gets me nervous every time one of ‘em heads that way.” “Same here,” said Tina. “And the longer we wait the more nervous I’m gonna be. Sometimes you gotta get up and chase, ya drat lazy reptiles.” “We ain’t lazy, we just conserve our energy better ‘n you flighty mammals,” Mickey said, smirking again. “Once we see when to strike, well, it’s all over in a flash.” “So you say,” Tina said, rolling her eyes. She turned to James. “Hey. If you’re sticking around, maybe you should get in on the whole mutual defense thing too. More than here and there I mean.” "Good to know that I fought well enough to impress you, Tina," James replied with a wide grin. Tina flushed bright red. “Yeah, well… Don’t let it go to your head or nothin’,” she said, shoving the last piece of steak in her mouth to cover. With a chorus of smirks and, from the braver people present, chuckles, the conversation turned to more relaxed matters - sports, mostly - as everyone finished their meals. For a brief moment, James got a chance to feel normal camaraderie, in a way he hadn't in too long. After a post meal beer (and handing Mickey his card, in case the biker needed someone to snoop around or help out) and some goodbyes, James found himself heading home, still weary from the fight - but now, at least, his head felt in the game again.
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May 4, 2022 01:21
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Delegation, or: You’ve Got Mail Scene: Elbridge’s Apartment, Hydrangea Place ”A Typewritten Missive” posted:Attn: Wardens and Wizards — The next morning, when Elbridge checked his letterbox, it was stuffed full. For once in his life, he found he was spoiled for choice. Or, at least he thought so, as he organised the pile of unopened envelopes on his dining room table. Snick! went the letter opener, and inside… A Handwritten Note, Barely Legible posted:To: Warden-Commander Elbridge Hardley Elbridge did remember Warden Munict. He’d been ancient when Elbridge had first joined, and even at the time El had been surprised to see him on the front lines. Warden-General Brigadine (whose surname had caused no end of confusion regarding his actual rank) was a more-distant recollection, having fallen in battle during the First World War at the tender age of four-hundred and twelve. Munict, breveted in his stead and not formally-relieved of command for another two decades, had often found himself at loggerheads with his fellow Wardens, including a young Laura Bellworth. Especially Laura Bellworth. Herbert Munict was now older than Aethelred Brigadine had been at his death, and Elbridge doubted that he’d grown any less stubborn or quarrelsome for it. And his cataracts had been advanced even in Egypt. If they’d grown any thicker…well, that would explain the handwriting. He would certainly have valuable insights to offer, but the man was so argumentative over every last point of order that there’d be precious little time for command. Elbridge began drafting a tactful rejection in his head as he opened the next letter. A Stiffly-Typed Response posted:Dear Mr. Hardley, “Hmm.” Elbridge puzzled over Warden Plant’s missive. She was certainly eager, and ‘proficient’ for a Warden was ‘world-class’ by the standards of mortal magicians, but her lack of experience worried him. Taking her away from Florida, he suspected, would only exacerbate her problems, although he was deeply-sympathetic to her plight. She was still under his command, and he still had a responsibility to her. Continued correspondence was in order. Elbridge made a mental note to read Grace in on these consultations. Warden Plant was obviously willing to reach out to non-Council parties for help. Her interests and Grace’s aligned on several key matters. Yes…Elbridge saw potential there. So it went with the next four applicants - Bonham, Page, Jones, and Smith. None were more than a year out from their apprenticeships. Each had seen action, yes - but against an enemy that no longer existed. The Vampire War had shaped the Council in ways that would be felt for centuries to come. Only its very oldest members and its very youngest had survived in any great quantity. Those of middling experience had been the bulk of the Wizards to face the Reds in combat…and the majority of the deaths. What was left, it struck Elbridge, was a stark generational divide; one he was unsure could ever be healed. And yet. Elbridge glanced at the size of his inbox. Eight different applicants, and on such short notice. Rick had wagered two at most. Elbridge, in his heart, had feared that no-one would respond. Perhaps there’s still cause for hope after all, he thought, and opened the next letter. It looked like a stack of blank sheets, but he could sense the magic on them and feel the weight of the ink. Breaking the spell outright would have destroyed the message; instead, he cast his own, infusing the letter’s invisible ink with a few drops of his own. The two enchantments weren’t quite compatible, and the letter’s contents shimmered into hazy visibility. A Blank Piece of Paper, Covered In Enchanted Invisible Ink posted:
Now, there was a candidate. Elbridge smiled in approval at the elegance - the letter itself served as proof of Warden Blackburn’s talents. Her qualifications weren’t mere boasting, either. Her references came with page after page of honours and endorsements, given by names in the chain of command who were not at all easy to impress. It should have been enough for Elbridge to choose her, sight-unseen. Except…one name was conspicuously missing from those recommendations, and that name was Warden-Captain Bellworth’s. Elbridge didn’t defer to her on everything. He didn’t need to consult with her on every last decision. But he trusted her judgment, and that was a very rare thing for him indeed. He set Warden Blackburn’s application in the short pile for “strong consideration”, then wrote and sent a request for additional information to Laura before even opening his final envelope. A Letter Carefully Written On The Back of a Yellow Church Flyer posted:Greetings Mr. Hardley, Elbridge read Warden Vincent’s letter. Then he read it again. It wasn’t until the third pass that Elbridge realised what about it had so caught his attention. It was the candour. Any number of unpleasant surprises might be hiding behind the resumes of the other applicants, but Warden Vincent had been willing to explain himself in advance. It was clear that he wanted the job, and that he had good reason to stay committed to it. He had at least a rudimentary grasp of politics as well, which the late Warden Guyver most emphatically had not. Last, but far from least, Vincent had a connection with the city’s spiritual landscape that Elbridge never could. Oh, Elbridge was on speaking terms with several Loa, but only at a certain remove. They were neighbours, not friends. Yes…Warden Vincent had exactly the level of personal investment that Elbridge had been looking for. Meiko Blackburn was still a strong contender, but Emmanuel Vincent stood out enough to warrant a meeting at the least. Elbridge sent an invitation to speak at his earliest convenience, along with directions to the Tremble Rock in Sedona. Much as he would have preferred the Gato, the Tremble Rock was neutral ground under the Accords. It was safer this way, for now. And so, his spirits newly-buoyed by the good reception of his request, Elbridge put away his typewriter and pulled out his rotary set. It was time to speak to Grace about some statues in a swamp.
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May 9, 2022 21:25
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The First Step Scene: Oak Alley The plantation was the same as it had ever been. Even the gradual encroachment of autumn didn’t seem to make an impact on its liveliness and verdour. Same trees in bloom, same goon manning the entryway, same people holding court within. Nothing had changed since the last time Ada had visited — and indeed, why should it have? The seasons and courts don’t care what happens to us. They share space with us but we’re still worlds apart. But that’s all gonna come to an end today. Her heartbeat was slow and steady, as if nothing important were happening, but every contraction and dilation was like a hammerblow inside her chest. No nerves, yet — just pressure, crushing in its weight. When’s she coming out? she wondered, staring out the window of the Rolls Royce, as Roy waited patiently behind the wheel. It had already been fifteen minutes since they’d arrived. Enough time to give notice, and even send a message to Grace to request backup. First Duty posted:Hey. Hope you had a chance to cash in all those bricks for a clean slate. Need you at Oak Alley in two hours. Make sure you come in looking clean, professional, sharp. We’re gonna be making some big moves. -A Even within the Rolls’ comfortable interior and wrapped inside an old trench-coat she’d rescued from one of the manor’s many wardrobes, she still felt underdressed and unprepared for the occasion. She’d spent all night pondering what approach to take, barely getting a wink of sleep, and still felt like she barely had the inklings of a plan to go off of. If anything went wrong… If it goes wrong, then it goes wrong, she reassured herself, as best as she was able. And I’ll learn something from it. But it won’t. It can’t. I won’t let it turn out any way but the one I want it to end. The thought had the weight of a promise, and it offered some relief from her own mounting expectations. Closing her eyes, she settled down to wait. Maybe she could make up for some of that lost sleep now. It’d be nice to come into things fresh… A rapping at the window broke her out of what was only a momentary respite. “Helloooo dearie!” Bjergsra’s voice boomed through the glass. She was leaning over, her smile taking up most of the window. Looking up, Ada matched her smile with one of her own, smaller but quite pleased to see her. “Bjergsra. Pleasure to see you again.” She opened the door, then slid backwards to make room for her. “Mister Goldman’s expecting you. Come on in.” Showtime. Getting her comfortable was where it all started. Had to prime the disappointment properly, so it’d hit just right later on. “I believe the pleasure is all mine,” Bjergsra said, with a small laugh. She squeezed into the back of the car with only a little effort. She had orchid-scented perfume which quickly permeated the air in the enclosed space. “How have you been, Miss duSang? Busy I’d wager?” “Quite.” At her signal, the Rolls took off. “Lots of hard work, but the results make it all worthwhile. How do you see your chances with Mister Goldman today? Got any aces up your sleeve to sway his heart?” “If I told you it would hardly be up my sleeve now would it?” Bjergsra said coyly. She winked at Ada though, clearly saying she had something. “How did you manage to convince him to arrange a meeting though? It’s been such a rough road trying to get anywhere near the man. You’d think he was scheduled out every day for the next six months with how unavailable he’s been.” “It’s a funny story. Once upon a time, he gave me an early Christmas gift.” The gift of an early Christmas, more specifically, she thought. “I gave him something back in return, and he ended up over the moon with it. When I asked him if he might be willing to do this for me, he was all too happy to agree.” Her hairtips jingled playfully as she spoke, as if they shared her secret mirth at how strange the circumstances behind their relationship truly were. “Was he now?” Bjergsra asked, as though she didn’t quite believe Ada but was too polite to say so. “Would you say he’s a generous person, then, giving away…” she paused, what Ada had said was too vague for her to easily make small talk out of, but she continued after only missing a single beat. “...’early Christmas gifts’ to his neighbors?” “Mmm…” It was an interesting question, largely because of its directness. Fairies never passed up a chance to be oblique if they could help it, largely as a defense mechanism. For Bjergsra to ask so openly meant she couldn’t afford to be misunderstood. Which means she needs information, Ada thought. Even Midas’ remarks hadn’t made the fairies’ position seem as tenuous as it actually was. Giving bad information could very easily turn against her here. In this kind of circumstance, honesty was the best policy. “...I wouldn’t quite put it that way. He’s very magnanimous, but that’s not quite the same thing as being generous. His gift was more than I’d dared to hope for, but there was an understanding I’d do my best to return the gift in my own way when the time came. He’s a king through and through, and he doles out gifts accordingly. I think that’s why he ended up so pleased when I matched his generosity down the line. He’s very sharp, and not used to people exceeding his expectations because he’s very worldly and wise.” She looked up for a moment, struck by a sudden inspiration. “I think that’s why we hit it off from that point on. When someone turns out to be more than he expected, the surprise delights him.” “I see, I see. He must treat those who serve him quite well, for you to respect him so much,” Bjergsra added, her eyes going to the tips of Ada’s hair. “He does,” Ada agreed. Let her think their relationship was one of servitude. It made for a convenient cover. “He’s not in the business of recruiting aides just to disregard their expertise or interfere with their methods. He has an eye for quality, and values it accordingly.” “Wonderful.” There were a few more exchanges over the course of the car ride, but none of any significance. Bjergsra was too busy planning and preparing to be much of a conversationalist, and Ada was content to let her stew in her own thoughts. As the Rolls pulled to a stop in front of the wide stairs and white columns framing the Goldman residence, Bjergsra opened the door and squeezed her way out of it. She smoothed her violet dress and adjusted her pearls with the seriousness of a warrior preparing for battle. “Good luck,” Ada offered, as the woman prepared to head on in. “Show him something to admire.” “Oh, I will,” said the faerie, as she walked away. — Some time later, Ada was woken again by a rapping on the glass. Bjergsra’s ever-present smile was gone, her lips pressed tight together and her cheeks bright scarlet. “Miss duSang? I am ready to go home,” she said, stomping the driveway on the last word so hard that the car shook. For a moment, Ada glanced at her, taking in her distress. Then, she gave her a nod. “Right on.” She waited until they were on the road again, then broke the silence. “You’ve practically got a storm cloud hovering over your head right now. How badly did the meeting go?” “Lord Midae is not interested in holding court, at present,” Bjergsra spat viciously. “And his lady- no, I cannot even call her that, it would be an untruth. His beastly wife threatened to turn me into a column because I was too tall to make a good birdbath. Whatever had I done to earn such ire? Only offered my services and those of my fellow courtiers. Lord Narcissus certainly found us useful! He understood our quality, how much effort we put into each and every day.” She paused to take a breath. “What kind of summer folk are we without a court? Oh, and don’t even get me started on what the Old Man of the Lake calls ‘court’. Nothing but animals, dancing naked under the moonlight. Completely uncivilized, closing their eyes and covering their ears to change and progress.” She looked primed to keep going for a while, but Ada was pretty sure it’d start circling around soon enough. Better to cut things off at the pass. “So it’s between holding no court and returning to baser forms. Do you not have a third option? Some kind of backup plan?” It was a delicate thing, putting the right tone of voice forward so it wouldn’t sound like a mockery. A hefty dose of genuine interest, a lighter note of befuddlement, and, hidden just below the surface, a quiet but unmistakable note of pity to help the gravity of the situation sink in. If she’d balanced it all together just right, then… ((This is a Provoke roll against difficulty 4 to create an Aspect within Bjergsra (and thus the Oak Alley fairies at large). The roll is a hot mess with a -2 result, so Ada invokes her fancy new Queen of Hearts aspect to get it just right. This creates the Aspect Primed for Desperation, with one free Invoke!)) “Backup plan?” Bjergsra said, her voice straining. “Oak Alley was the backup plan. A shallow shell of a court, and Hob is no Lord, nor do I think he has any aspirations to be one. But at least there we could keep up some semblance of appearances. The problem is that Pontchartrain is Lord here, and he has now all but demanded we give it up and join his feral dogs. We can’t fight him, he’s far too strong, and without Lord Midae’s protection the only other choice we have is to pack our things and leave…” “Leave? Where to?” Ada pressed, harrying her further. “A topic of much debate and no good options,” she said miserably. “Some of our folk have familial ties, or old friends they can call on… but many do not. And there are too many of us. No established court would accept an influx so great. They would fear the influence of a large, united group.” “Outsiders wherever you go, or outcasts and beasts here.” Ada whistled, quietly. “Hell of a choice to make. And it can’t wait very long, either. I can’t imagine Old Man Pontchartrain will let you stall for time instead of mending your ways.” “Why should he, when he has his teeth at our throats? We are not his, and he knows it.” “Not yet, anyway. He won’t stop until he’s made you bend the knee.” She paused for a moment, letting the impending doom sink in. “The worst part isn’t that you can’t fight him. It’s that if he manages to pull you down to his level, he’ll still have won. Whatever path you choose, it’ll take a miracle to not go through a great change.” Bjergsra did not say anything, merely grunted once in acknowledgement. But as she folded her hands in her lap she looked like she was dwelling deeply on Ada’s words. I’ve pushed as far as I can go. Anything more would be an overreach. Now I just need to escort her home and make my move. Reflexively, Ada rubbed her left hand’s palm with her fingertips. This had been easy…too easy. Systematically pushing someone’s buttons to make them feel unsafe and worried shouldn’t have come so naturally to her. This wasn’t her scene. I’d rather help someone grow, not bring them down, she thought. She felt dirty, like her hands were covered in wet, sticky mud. Tired, as well, in spite of all the napping. Maybe I’m still feeling the blood loss from yesterday, she mused. Not at the top of my game just yet. Which might even have been true, but it didn’t take away the fact that that wasn’t really the main source of discomfort. I’m so glad I don’t have to keep doing this. No more destroying anybody’s confidence. For the next bit, I can just build something new. I’m good with that.
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May 9, 2022 21:30
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Ms. Popular Scene: Outside the Crescent Bank Grace whistled a tuneless little tune on her way out of the bank. Most of her new cash was now in a safety deposit box. She knew she’d have to figure out a way to launder it later, but for now she was onto her shopping list. There were some changes that needed to happen with her new job. New ride, new outfit, new apartment, new phone. The last one would have to wait, as her flip phone vibrated. The caller ID read ‘Old Man’. “Good morning, Miss Wagner,” he said at once. “How soon could you get to Lake Cataouatche?” “Uhhh… probably half an hour, tops. How badly do you need me, though? I’ve got some other stuff going on today.” “It’s fairly-urgent,” Elbridge said. There was a lengthy pause as he considered how much more to tell her, and ultimately settled on full honesty. “I need to retrieve Mrs. Goldman’s petrified victims from the lakebed for revival and interrogation, and I need them today so that I can blackmail her into returning Frisk by tomorrow night.” “Oh. Yeah. You probably do need me for that. To also be upfront, I’ve had a bit of a change in my circumstances. I’m kinda working for Ada right now. Full time. For the next few years. So, lemme clear it with her and I’ll get right back to you.” “Right back, if you will,” Elbridge said, eying his liquor cabinet and fighting back temptation. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go find a scone to eat or something. Talk to you in a minute.” Grace hung up without waiting for more classic Elbridge banter, went to go find ‘Da Boss’ in her contact list… and saw a text instead. The First Step posted:Hey. Hope you had a chance to cash in all those bricks for a clean slate. Need you at Oak Alley in two hours. Make sure you come in looking clean, professional, sharp. We’re gonna be making some big moves. -A Elbridge received a call back from Grace less than 15 seconds later. “Yes?” “Bad news, I’m booked this morning. Gotta meet Ada in 2 hours, and I’ve gotta get dressed up. I’ll buzz you when I’m done?” “Promptly, yes,” Elbridge said in his best tone of strained politeness. “Hey, old man, not my fault Ada is paying for my time now. Catch ya later.” Grace, again, hung up on him without waiting for a response before responding to Ada’s text. The First Step posted:Will do, boss. FYI the old man wants me to help him drag some stuff out of the swamp after. Thankfully, Ada had left Grace more than enough time to pick up some new clothes and get to Oak Alley. Today was shaping up to be quite productive.
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May 11, 2022 16:31
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Setting up the Pieces Scene: Oak Alley Grace arrived at Oak Alley slightly ahead of Ada, dressed fully in motorcycle leathers. Black boots, black pants, dark red jacket and shiny new reflective aviators, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She stepped off her new bike, the effect slightly ruined as it took her just a couple seconds too long to get the kickstand down. She wasted no time before heading over to mess with the guard. He was a movie perfect bouncer. Large, well dressed, and with one those stupid little goatees those guys always seem to have. “Hey, big fella. You come here often?” “Only as often as they pay me to,” he said, looking at her through his own reflective aviators. “Sorry, but tours are closed. Private party.” “Oh, yeah, that’s the party I’m here for, just early. I’m a plus one.” She dropped her shades to look at him a little closer. “What’s a gig like this pay, anyway?” He raised his shades, and his eyes were slit like a cat’s. “Not money, if that’s what you’re after,” he said, smirking. “But the guy who runs this place knows a lot of people, and he can get a hold of some hard to find stuff. Why, you looking for work?” “Nah, I’m just trying to figure out if my contract is as sweet as I think it’s gonna be. But, uh, you gotta phone number? In case I need something hard to find.” “For the boss? Not on me, but he hands cards out like candy. Just ask for one.” At the end of the drive, a shiny Rolls Royce pulled through the gate. “That who you’re plus one’ing for?” “Sure looks like it.” Grace walked away from him to where the Rolls was stopping. Alright, Grace. This is it. Don’t screw this one up. — As Roy pulled through the gates, Bjergsra let out a long sigh and turned to Ada. “Thank you for the ride, and the audience,” she said politely. “You have done all that we asked of you, and that is to be appreciated.” “Don’t even mention it,” Ada replied. “It’s a shame it didn’t work out like you wanted. You mind if I accompany you in? Hob and I need to discuss the details of the little favor I was gonna ask of him.” “Of course, of course. Do come along,” she said, but there was none of her earlier spark. She would have to face her friends in only a few moments, and her hesitance was obvious. The Rolls pulled to a stop in front of the plantation and Roy emerged from the driver’s seat to let the ladies out one at a time. — “And who might this be, Gary?” Bjergsra asked the guard, as she saw Grace. “She’s my bodyguard,” Ada explained. As she stepped off the Rolls, the two-inch heels she was wearing betrayed her. Thank god she’d had the chance to grab onto the car before anyone could notice. “You know how it is. Not supposed to go off alone at any moment, even if it’s to pick up a friend. I trust it won’t be an issue if she comes with us?” “Bodyguard? Wait a moment, I remember you,” she said to Grace, frowning intently. “Miss duSang… I don’t know what possessed you to bring this rude creature into your employ, but if you must bring her inside I will hold you wholly responsible for her behavior. This is already a trying time for us, and I will not let my friends be antagonized again.” “I wouldn’t expect otherwise,” Ada nodded. “There’ll be no trouble, I promise you that much.” That wasn’t quite true. The trouble had already started with Grace’s choice of outfit, though it at least wasn’t out of control yet. Her biker gear certainly looked professional…for a courier, not a bodyguard. Not sure how this counts as clean and sharp either, but it’s my mistake for not specifying, she thought, resisting the urge to slap herself for making assumptions. We’ll just have to roll with it for now and clear things up once this meeting’s in the books. Grace’s mouth opened, and then shut. Now was not the time, and truth be told she’d practically forgotten about her little spat with Cadair. It was just a little territorial squabbling. She didn’t have any warm fuzzy feelings towards him, but it was hardly worth throwing down over. Instead, she merely nodded at Ada. Guardsman Gary, taking his cue, opened the door for all of them and gave Grace a little wave as they went in. — Inside was exactly the same as the last time they’d been there, but there was no private party going on now. Hob and Cadair were sitting across from each other on stiff, delicate lounging sofas, but there were no other guests in view. It made sense, parties like theirs wouldn’t start until later in the evening. “Ah, there you are,” Hob said, brightening as he caught sight of Bjergsra. His eyes flicked back to Ada, and then lingered on Grace with a little confusion. “I’m sorry, is there another message?” Cadair snorted at Grace, but in the language of predators it was merely an acknowledgement of her presence. In fact he seemed much less bothered by her being there than Bjergsra had been. Grace gave Cadair a little head nod, but otherwise remained silently at Ada’s side. “Something like that, but it can wait.” As they approached the table, Ada began unbuttoning her trench coat. What she was wearing underneath was a far cry from her usual sporty look — a black dress that covered her from her neck to her thigh, with see-through transparent sleeves that subtly guarded her scars while keeping them visible for anyone who cared to look at them. Yuric duSang’s golden chain was wrapped around her arm, following the contour of her central arteries all the way to the elbow, its other end wrapped around a trio of understated golden rings on her ring, index and middle fingers that gave it a look almost like the wireframe skeleton of a glove. Coupled with the subtle earrings she wore, they served to paint the picture of a focused, elegant woman, full of confidence in herself. As she finished taking off the coat, she sat down and crossed her legs. “I took Bjergsra to see Midas, as we agreed. I think you should hear the details from her first.” “We will discuss that later, in private,” Bjergsra said stiffly, and Ada could tell her efforts to insert herself into that discussion were both noticed and extremely unwelcome. “Hob, Miss duSang asked to settle the matter of her request. An audience with the Svartalves, if I recall correctly?” “Precisely,” Ada answered, imperturbably. “Plus a business opportunity you might have some interest in. But it wouldn’t make sense to discuss it outside its proper context. It’s…what do you call it…a silver lining after what’s happened today, if you catch my drift?” She let a sympathetic wince appear on her face as she finished speaking. All she needed now was for Hob to take the bait… ((This is a Rapport Overcome against difficulty 4! Ada rolls +6, so Hob’s curiosity gets the better of him.)) “Miss duSang is already aware of what you’ve got to say, is she not?” Hob asked Bjergsra. “Well, yes, she is…” “Then no harm can come from her presence. Sit, my friend, and tell us what happened at the house of Lord Midae.” He patted the empty space on the sofa next to him. “Or what didn’t happen,” Cadair said glumly. “Don’t try to deny it, Bjergsra. You’d be crowing like a cockerel if you’d succeeded.” Bjergsra shot him a look that would wilt flowers, but she allowed Hob to placate her enough to sit down. The sofa made a single alarming squeak, but held together admirably. “Lord Midae was singularly uninterested in holding court at all,” Bjergsra reported, looking down at her hands. “He has arrangements with the Old Man that he wouldn’t share with me, other than that they’d agreed that he was in all ways a guest in the Old Man’s territory, and he had laid no claim on either swamp or city, as long as he was allowed to build his buildings and monuments. He plans to mainly play at mortal politics, and will only answer Titania’s summons directly- or the Summer Lady’s, if the Queen cannot be found and a call to arms is deemed necessary.” “Disappointing,” Hob said, reaching out to lay a small hand on Bjergsra’s forearm. “But not wholly unexpected. Midae has always considered his ties to faerie lesser than his more famous obligations. It was a long shot, and I’m sure you gave it your best.” “He simply could not be moved,” Bjergsra said. “But where does that leave us now?” “Each must make their own decision,” Hob said. “For those who wish to return to kith and kin, transportation will be provided. For those who cannot, or will not,” he squeezed her arm gently, “then other courts must be found. We may not go together but in twos, threes, fours… Narcissus was owed much by many. We will use that, while people still remember his name. And of course, if one cannot bear to leave New Orleans…” “One must return to the riverboat,” Cadair growled, finishing his sentence for him. “A poor option, but an option nonetheless. The Old Man will feel secure in his power eventually and have no more need to harry us if we remain loyal.” “Not all have your patience, Cadair,” Bjergsra sniffed. The dog man bowed his head. “My friend, if Winter catches us queenless, all this talk of plans may be moot. We will be glad for the River King’s savagery when he turns it upon Winter’s hordes.” This was it, right here. Seizing upon the momentary silence that followed Hob’s words, Ada pounced. “Only for as long as you can forget having pawned off actual living for the sake of survival. But you do have one other, better option.” “Do we, now?” Hob asked, his brows furrowed. He’d allowed her to listen, but had not expected her to speak up. “And what’s that?” “All the senior faerie leaders are dead ends right now. Midas won’t take you, Winter won’t accept a bunch of turncoats, and signing up with the River King is just death by a different name. You can start fresh somewhere else, but you’ll be giving up all the comforts and power you’ve gained here and starting over from the beginning. But if you look beyond Faerie, there’s other options. You can find someone new, form a splinter court, and throw down with the River King the way Narcissus would’ve done it. You can prove exactly why the wilds gave way to civilization.” She raised her head, just a little, making sure to project as much of an image of authority as she could muster, and then she continued. “Sign on with me.” “With… you?” Hob’s voice was incredulous, but not mocking. “I’m sorry, Miss duSang, I fail to see what you’re suggesting we do. Can you elaborate? Splintering the court on the eve of war is not a game we would play lightly, nor would we be capable of ‘throwing down’ with the River King’s army of goblins, if he chose to wield them against us. Even Lord Narcissus only defeated him through trickery, as you well know.” “He did,” Ada agreed. “And I don’t think the same trick will work again. Instead, what I’m offering you is an army to match an army.” She leaned in forward, her green eyes shining like a blaze. “The clued-in mortals of New Orleans follow my lead. We’re used to fighting off Fomor attacks, not to mention all kinds of things that go bump in the night. We’ve got numbers and combat experience, and pound for pound, our mages are the biggest guns in town. We’ve taken on archdemons, vampires, a fallen angel…our track record speaks volumes.” She raised her hand. In the light, her great-uncle’s chain glinted. “My family ran this town back when Old Man Pontchartrain was still in charge. He wasn’t our competition — the Red Court were, and they’re no longer standing in the way of our ascension. You want to stay within the confines of civilization, and I want savages to stop treating my city like it’s their personal playground. Way I see it, our goals are perfectly aligned.” “You speak as though you plan to run this town again,” Hob said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “It’s an interesting proposition…” “It would mean forsaking Summer,” Cadair said, before Hob could elaborate. “We would be courtless, lordless, and living under siege in whatever scrap of territory we could hold. Our claim would never go uncontested. I know what you have done, Miss duSang, and I respect your accomplishments. But to claim you have an army that can best the River King’s… I have seen no evidence of it.” “And even if you did and could, it would be foolish to fight amongst ourselves while Winter’s wolves are at our door. Think how they’ll laugh when they breach the castle gate and find us weak and divided in our halls,” Bjergsra said. “If we must disband, at least our strength will remain Summer’s strength.” “Hmm…” Hob said. He alone had not voiced a dissent. “We are proud sons and daughters of Summer, Miss duSang. I admit many of our goals align well, but abandoning Summer would mean abandoning all the comfort and power we have now, in an even fuller way than leaving would. What would we gain by joining you? I must be selfish in this matter, you understand. Not for myself, but as a leader. My people are depending on me to make the choice that serves them best.” “For starters, you get to keep this,” Ada said, raising her hands up and turning around to encompass Oak Alley. “That’s your baseline. No losing your people, no losing your place. But that’s just the start. The turf the Red Court used to occupy is still vacant, and the White Court gave up their strongholds in a hurry after we tore them apart. We take those, and then we round up the other lesser factions of New Orleans and we bring them all under one banner. The weregators, the ghouls, the whole drat thing.” As she spoke, her hands danced, adding emphasis and scope to her sales pitch. For most people, it would’ve been nervous gesticulation, but for Ada, this was pure theatre. It wasn’t just about offering the fairies sweet words, it was about selling something that didn’t exist yet, and making it sound as real as the election happening the next day. Right now, she was in her element. All building, no destroying. So far, I’ve just pitched them a dream. Now, I need to give them something they can bite on. “I’m not interested in just having a little scrap of turf I can call mine and living with it. I want to be the main game in town, the only game in town. And for that I’ll need administrators, people with experience to make sure everything’s run tidily and neatly. People with politesse and political acumen, who can keep all these groups pacified. That’s where you come in. Work with me and we can change the face of the city to something more to our liking. And you won’t have to fear losing any of it, because you’ll have me in your corner.” And here, she leaned back, rested her elbows on the back of the couch, and gave the fairies a wide, confident grin. “Call it ego, but I think I’ve got a clear history of making miracles happen to protect those I care for. And in fact, I’ve already worked on one just for you.” “You have?” Hob asked. “Midas never had any intention of meeting up with you. Why do you think he blew you off so much? There was nothing you could offer him that he actually wanted. But you asked me to get you a meeting with him, so I did. And to do that, I got him in my debt. I found a cure for his daughter’s curse, the one who’s been waiting millennia for this moment, in days, because you needed to see him before we could get anywhere.” She crossed her arms and fixed the full force of her eyes upon him. For a moment, the gilded tips of her flame-red hair jingled. “I don’t do things by half-measures, Hob. Whenever I want something, I go and get it. The only question is, do you wanna go get yours too?” ((This is it, a rapport roll against difficulty 7. Ada rolls +5, reveals her On Top of the World or Buried aspect by using Heart to Heart for a +2, and rolls a 6. That seems like an ouch, but with Primed for Desperation available, she pops it for a +2, then spends On Top of the World’s… free invoke to take it to 10. Success with Style!))
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May 31, 2022 17:33
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The First Domino Hob’s eyes hardened. “Yes. I think I do.” “Hob?” Bjergsra asked, concerned. “She did none of that for us, she only wants what we promised her.” “She overpromises,” Cadair said, snorting. “Her strength is a shadow, elusive and fickle.” “And yet, her last statement rang true enough,” Hob said. Neither of his friends disagreed with him. “I will consider this matter carefully, Miss duSang. It requires more than just my consent, after all, but so far I find the idea of an alliance to be… favorable. Pontchartrain is strong, but his law is not the only law of Summer. If he chooses not to align himself with the mortals, then we shall, and together show him that faerie’s true power lies in cunning as much as strength.” He had not given up on Summer, that much was clear. Her offer was too tempting to refuse, but he wouldn’t let go of the thing that had defined his life, or the lives of all of his friends. But Pontchartrain? That was a different story. “She will need capable advisors, if she truly plans to do what she says,” Bjergsra muttered. Her expression was sour, as though Ada’s admission that the meeting she’d worked hard to get was doomed had been a personal slight… but even that couldn’t keep her from disregarding the idea of an alliance. Cadair remained silent, for once. He watched her carefully, though, as though he were weighing her very soul by her words. Ada resisted the urge to smile. A little ‘yes’ always gave way to bigger ones. “Sounds like a plan. We’ll need to turn Oak Alley into a new court to rival the Delta Queen then. What will you need for that, besides muscle to back you up?” “We’ll need time to call in old favors and establish new ones,” Hob said. “And while Oak Alley is a wonderful place to hold court, it may be too far from the city proper to be defensible. Not that I plan to give it up,” he said swiftly. “But perhaps we’ll seek out someplace closer to home. And finally…” he paused, rubbing his hands together. “A fragment of Summer’s power would certainly go a long way towards ensuring our success.” “If it must be used, he would have wanted us to remain together,” Cadair said quietly. He was as stone faced as ever, his lips pulling up in a half-snarl, but he kept his eyes firmly on the ground as he spoke. Last time Hob had asked for it, the power grab had been blatant. While she couldn’t be sure there wasn’t still an element of that to it, this time the request felt right. And besides, Cadair would make sure Dammis’ legacy was used properly. “Then let’s seal our alliance with this gesture,” she said, standing up. Her hands reached up to her neck, grasping the Summerstone’s chain. “May this blessing from a lost friend guide this endeavor to good fortune,” she said, as she extended her hand forward, leaving the stone open for Hob to take. Her words carried a strange resonance to them, obvious even to herself. Hob stood as well, approaching to meet her in the center of the room. “In trade for this gift, we offer our counsel, our wisdom, and our esteem.” He plucked the stone reverently from her hands and bowed deeply. “May Dammis’ spirit always smile upon this alliance, Lady Ada.” Lady. No one’s ever called me that before. It was a strange feeling, though not at all an unpleasant one — as if an electric wire had come to life and was lighting up her insides with a warm glow. Something had changed. No matter what else happened from here on out, she’d just gained something that she’d never give back. With a regal nod, Ada acknowledged Hob’s response, and then sat down and invited him to do likewise with a light gesture of her hand. “All’s as it should be now. Good,” she said, and broke into a grin. “And I think I just thought of something we can do to buy you some of the time and safety you’ll need to get set up.” “Do tell,” Hob said, eyes bright. “If you’re moving closer to the City’s center, there’s someone there who’ll object to it violently. Someone Pontchartrain won’t mind seeing removed — which means he won’t balk if you start marshaling forces to use against them.” She paused for a moment for dramatic impact. “How do you feel about running Winter out of town before they’ve had time to lay down roots?” “That would be a good cover, and raise our standing in the greater Court besides,” Hob said eagerly. “But… would you be willing to do that, Lady Ada? The oathbreaker, Rubeansidhe… she would be run out of town as well.” The warm glow inside her went out. Goddammit. He’s right. If I go up against Winter, all its fae will have to take up arms against me. If Ruby chooses to transform like her mother did…god. Am I gonna have to fight Isabel? If it comes to that, then… She cut herself short. That line of thought was going nowhere fast. She’d have to find some kind of solution, but right now, she had other problems to sort out. As she thought of what she might have to do and closed her eyes, she couldn’t help but let out a sigh. “She’s one of mine, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her from being taken from me,” she began, slowly, with mournful determination. Then, she opened her eyes. “When I said you’d have me on your corner, I meant it. But if I fight, you’ll have to fight as well. If Pontchartrain sees you’re holding back forces while someone else takes care of Winter, he’ll start to suspect foul play.” “We’re no strangers to weapons, my Lady,” Cadair said. To his credit he did not quite choke on the ‘my lady’, though he did look as if he’d swallowed several lemons. “But we’ve never been asked to fight as a group before. Lord Narcissus relied on diplomacy, or assassins when that failed him. We have no army, and few who can be called warriors.” “And the assassins have all gone home,” Bjergsra said, annoyed. “Not a shred of loyalty- or decency- in that lot.” No surprises there, thought Ada. The rats all fled the sinking ship when Narcissus fell. We’ll have to start from the ground up and teach them cohesion. Hmm. She shot Grace a look, inquiringly. Maybe this doesn’t have to be as bad as it looks, though. Grace swallowed once before turning to address Hob and his court. As much as they were ‘civilized’, they were still fae and quite dangerous in other ways. Perhaps even more dangerous. "We could definitely set up some kind of war games, it’d be good practice. But it might be a better use of Oak Alley to keep playing Narcissus’s games. This is still a faerie court. If loyalty and decency won’t get you the help you need, I’m sure there’s other coin that could be spent. The Svartalves aren’t the only group that could give us an edge in this war. Do what you do best. Throw a party. Call in old debts. Figure out who will help us, and what their price is. Help us build an army to defend our homes.” She took a deep breath, resisting the instinct to turn to Ada for approval. She wasn’t exactly sure where that speech came from, and hoped it sounded as good to everyone else as it did in her head. All three faeries turned to look at Ada. Bodyguards didn’t usually offer advice unprompted in their world. “There’s more to Ms. Wagner than meets the eye,” Ada said, acknowledging her words with a nod. “Her manners may seem uncouth, but that just serves to underscore just how valuable her particular skill set is — and experience in all-out territorial defense is just one of its many facets. We would do well to pay close attention to her words.” “War games…” Cadair said thoughtfully. “I like the sound of that.” “Parties are more my style,” said Bjergsra, “I’ll take a look at the schedule and see if there’s any good dates coming up we can use.” Hob nodded. “Winter’s presence is a thorn in all of our sides, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to find a few ears to whisper in. Though we’ll have to be careful not to antagonize the River King too much, lest he strike at us before we’re ready for him.” “All in due time. We should only pick one fight at a time if we can help it…though that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take subtle opportunities to get even where we can find them.” A lightbulb went on inside Ada’s head. What if…? “Mmm,” she murmured, her eyes widening slightly. “I do wonder…” “Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Bjergsra said, leaning forwards. “I was just thinking…there’s no moves that I know of that you can make against the River King, but there is something you can do to get back at King Midas for spurning your offers. Are you familiar with the Gilded Lily?” “Indeed. The contract you wished to interpret was from there, if I recall correctly?” Hob asked. “It was. The building is currently being auctioned off, and Midas is interested in it. A fundraiser’s being held to counter bid him, though, and he can’t afford to commit unlimited resources to it with the election campaign still ongoing. If you know any music industry execs, we just might be able to draw in acts with a dedicated fanbase to snatch it away from him.” “So you lack both talent and patronage,” Bjergsra said. Cadair gave the most subtle of snorts. “For the fundraiser,” she clarified, glaring at him. Cadair’s cheekiness was so brazen Ada couldn’t help but laugh. “Nice one,” she said, grinning as she shook her head to shake the mirth off. “We’ve got the talent. They’re just chicken and not willing to sign without the promise of a sugar daddy they can attract with their performances. You know how artists are. It’s all about the art and the message until there’s a chance for a meal ticket, and then they haggle like horse sellers.” “I can’t help wondering if you’re thinking too small, my Lady,” Bjergsra said. “An executive with a scout or two might attract local talent, but fans of local talent won’t bring in very much money. If they could, the talent wouldn’t be local anymore. You’re taking on Midas of Phrygia. You’ll need a showstopper name for the advertisements if you want anyone to care… and you will need advertisements too. Radio, television, internet… And of course most of the donation money is going to come from the elite, so you’ll need to talk to the other wealthy families of New Orleans. Though you mustn’t let them outspend you or you won’t be able to walk away with a controlling stake in the enterprise.” “Of course. Balancing it all out is important,” Ada said, nodding in agreement. “Even if I’m not planning to own it, it’s important to not let it fall into the wrong hands either. I think you’re underestimating the local talent, though. If you’d heard the voices I’d—” “Not planning to own it?!” Bjergsra interrupted. “But, my Lady!” “It would be a considerable waste of resources to invest in-” Hob sputtered. “-not running a charity,” Cadair layered on top. It took all of Ada’s considerable social acumen to not just burst into laughter again at the fairies’ shocked reactions. How could an act of kindness be so offensive to them? But then as she thought about it, it hit her. It really is offensive to them. Spontaneous kindness has no place in the world they’ve ever known. It doesn’t just register as strange to them, it’s downright foolish. Pure weakness. And now, the situation was…not yet dangerous, but it could turn that way if given half a chance. If she insisted upon it, they’d think poorly of her. It’d be a great way to undermine the alliance she’d worked so hard to build, right from the jump. Should I do it, though? The Lily was Ginger’s place…I’m not sure I can give it the care and focus it deserves. Surreptitiously, she shot Grace another look. What were her thoughts on this matter? Grace took another deep breath, trying and failing to form a complete thought before speaking, and again just going for it. "I spent a bunch of time at the Lily when I was younger, I saw some great shows with my husband there. I love that place, and that's part of why I'm here to begin with. But I gotta be honest, actually owning an old theater is a ton of work. If you all really think it's worth it, we can discuss that, but… I think the effort to reward is way off here. Especially when we already got a guy willing to do the leg work. Once we get this ball rolling, most of us should be able to walk away. Short of the yearly pledge drive where we all dutifully send our 25 or 50 bucks in, of course. It's a piece on the game board, and an important one, but I personally don't think I have the time to babysit The Lily once it's ours. That's a pet project for someone when we don't have to worry about ancient kings and lords." “Of course we don’t personally run it,” Bjergsra said. “We hire people for that. The point is to make a profit off of the investment, rent it out to specific interested parties for favors, and to be able to claim business ownership in the city- which opens up all sorts of doors on the mortal end of things.” “Also to be able to use it for private soirees. Like I mentioned earlier, Oak Alley is too far from the city center if we want to actively start swinging our weight around. It’s been a wonderful place to hide because it’s out of the way, but that doesn’t make it a good base of operations,” Hob added. “And we can’t afford to let someone else run it in that case…” Ada murmured. She still had her misgivings about the idea of owning the Lily. It seemed too brazen…disrespectful towards one of her mentors. If it’s between me and Midas, though…it’s gotta be me. “...Right. I may have been overly magnanimous in my initial approach. Your words make sense, advisors,” she said, making sure to emphasize the word to let the fairies know what their position already counted for. “Take whatever steps you deem necessary to prepare a media blitz and arrange the donations. I’ll speak with the fundraiser’s current manager and make sure it ends up under my name. When —not if— we outbid Midas, we’ll have to discuss how to redecorate it for a grand reopening. It wouldn’t do to host a proper soirée at a hole in the ground.” “Oh this will be fun,” Bjergsra said, rubbing her hands together. From her scheming smile it was clear that getting back at Midas (in the most stylish way possible) was a lot more important to her than any of the rest of it. “We preserve one of the city’s landmarks and we make it ours in one fell swoop. Not bad for a day’s work.” In spite of her mixed feelings, Ada forced out a satisfied smile. It may not have been exactly what she wanted, but a victory was a victory nonetheless. I wasn’t ready this time to get a perfect win, but I know what to look out for going forwards. Live and learn. “And speaking of which…Hob, when do you think you can arrange that meeting with Ogfri we talked about? The sooner we can determine what the terms of the contract are, the better.” “It shouldn’t take long,” Hob said. “I’ll let you know their earliest availability. It could be as soon as this evening if you’ve got time.” “I’ll be there. Make it so.” She nodded one last time, then stood up. “For now, though, Miss Wagner and I had better get going. Midas won’t wait for us to stake our claim. I’ll see you again soon, advisors. Let’s make this the first of many victories, shall we?” “Oh, you can’t stay for champagne?” Hob said, disappointed. “Just a glass?” “Keep the bottle safe until we see the results of Cadair and Ms. Wagner’s first war game,” Ada said, smiling sweetly. “There’s no better time for a toast than to celebrate both our accomplishments and our champions’ mettle.” “I’m looking forward to it,” Cadair said. “Team-building exercises are always enjoyable, especially when they involve firearms.” “...how do you feel about paintball, then? Maybe a little capture the flag?” Grace replied, grinning at the dog-person. Cadair only grinned, showing all of his teeth.
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May 31, 2022 17:41
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(nvm)
Relentless fucked around with this message at 18:57 on May 31, 2022 |
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May 31, 2022 17:58
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Friendly Takeover Scene: The Gilded Lily The journey to the Gilded Lily went by quietly. Grace had her bike to take her there, so Ada had the back of the Rolls all to herself and her thoughts. They made for rather sobering company as she watched the city go by, pondering what could've been done differently. What would her mentors say if they'd seen her work? Midas, Circe, her great-grandmother…and Ginger. What I'd give to have them here with me right now, she thought. And Ruby… I need to talk to her. I already was planning to go over to give her the crucifix, but now…I'm so sorry, Rubes. I shouldn't have made things harder on you. The Rolls' sudden stop was a surprise blessing. "We have arrived, madame," Roy announced, his voice as steady and familiar as ever. "What…? Oh, right. Thank you, Roy. Wait for me right here, this won't take long." The parking lot was hard, unyielding, and rather uncomfortable beneath Ada's heels. Hurriedly, she scanned the area, looking for any sign of Grace's arrival. She only had to wait a minute before her bodyguard came racing into the parking lot, coming to a halt right next to the Rolls. Grace was smiling and breathing hard. “Hey, boss.” was all she said as she put her kickstand down. "Hey." Boss. Being called that by someone who wasn't a Rookie had a weird feel to it. Like a family nickname coming out of the mouth of a friend. "We'll need a plan to sell Maks on this. Might have to coordinate our angles of attack to make sure it all works. Before we get into it though, lemme ask you something. How do you feel about your first outing as a right hand? Whatcha think about what you just saw?" “I think we need to do more prep before we go into meetings like that, but all in all… you convinced a faerie court to join your cause. That’s drat impressive, no matter how you cut it, ya know?” Grace was practically beaming at Ada. "You think?" Ada asked. She sounded surprised. "I felt like I didn't play it out nearly as well as I could've. I'm gonna make a lot of friends pretty upset when they find out about what I did today." She gave Grace a thoughtful stare and then nodded. "You took to it pretty quick. Hard to believe they wanted to tear you up just a few days ago. We'll have to get you some proper formal wear though. I managed to paper it over, but you stuck out like a sore thumb. If we come in so mismatched next time, our targets might laugh us out of the room." Grace blushed, a rarity for her in Ada’s experience. “Yeah, I uh… I’ve been living in a swamp for a while, and then I moved into a place that rents by the hour. I might need some assistance on that front.” She unzipped her jacket to show a faded Panic! At The Disco shirt underneath. “But, I think you’re selling yourself short a little bit. It might not be a perfect deal, but it’s still forward progress. You’ve got more leverage for the next deal you need to make, right?” "Yeah. Maybe too much of it, even. I'm still not sure how to sell it to Maksim. 'Hey, I've got millions in donations locked up but the donors won't sign unless my name's on the bid'?" She snorted in disbelief. "That feels a little too convenient for me, even if I legitimately didn't plan on it working out this way." Grace grimaced a little in response. “Well, if it helps, you can blame me. He’s already a little annoyed at me, and I’m supposed to help him get back with his ex before the show, like that’s not going to turn into a shitshow.” "You sure you wanna play the bad guy?" Ada asked, concern clear on her face. "Being my champion doesn't mean you have to be my scapegoat, Grace. Loyalty's golden, but it doesn't have to go as far as sacrifice." “Oh, it’s not a scapegoat type thing, I just uh… kinda over reacted.” She blushed for the second time in several minutes. ”A tiny bit. When I found out he’s White Court. Completely misread the situation and… yeah.” She coughed a little. “I’m already in hot water with Maks. The important part is that we get what we need. If I’ve gotta rub his feet, I’ll rub his feet.” At this, Ada quirked an eyebrow. "I'm this close to exercising executive privilege to get the juicy details right now," she said, then broke out into a wide grin. "Just kidding. We'll play this good cop-bad cop style then and win him over. I'll make it up to you for this, OK? When we go out shopping, your fanciest dress is on me." She got an exaggerated gasp back. “Hey, nobody said anything about dresses Ada!” "Look, it's that or a James Bond tux and I don't know if the world's ready for Agent Double-Oh-Gator yet, alright? Now come on, we've got a pretty boy with fangs to catch." The click of her heels as they walked towards the entrance was like a pair of gun hammers, setting up to fire. Poor Maksim had no idea what kind of tag team was coming at him. None at all. — Poor Maksim was up in his office, all alone. He was just lighting up the first cigarette of his third pack that day when the ladies walked in. “Ada! Just the gal I wanted to see,” he said excitedly, a big smile plastering itself across his handsome face. “...and Grace!” The smile didn’t quite leave his lips but it certainly left his eyes. “What a surprise. Do you two know each other? I mean, make yourselves comfortable.” “We met not that long ago and hit it off big time. Remind me to tell you the story some other time, hmm?” Ada said as she took a seat. “You look pleased. Got good news to share?” “I was hoping you would,” Maksim said. “People are starting to wonder if those record label guys are coming or not. I made promises, you know?” “Funny you mention it. That’s exactly what I’m here for. I got good news and bad news.” She broke into a wide grin. “The good news is you’re getting way more than you could ever expect. We’re not just getting one random exec, I talked to some specialists and we’re getting a full-on media blitz. People will show up big time to contribute to the cause, it’s gonna be a whole thing. We’re gonna outbid Midas, Maks. Don’t even think twice about it.” “Holy poo poo!” Maksim’s cig fell out of his mouth and he had to scramble to catch it. “That’s great! I mean, I haven’t even been able to buy a radio ad, yet. No one wants to donate air time. We did get a website up but it’s real basic… Ahem, so what’s the bad news? Can’t think of anything that’d harsh my buzz after this.” “We’re getting there.” Ada took a deep breath. “The guys Grace and I talked to were real hard sells. They weren’t interested in contributing at first, but we softened them up a lot and they came around. They had a requirement, though — they want to make sure the Lily will end up in good hands. Which is why they want my name on the bid, so someone who’ll make them concessions is at the helm.” “...oh.” His eyes narrowed, suddenly wary. “Not sure how I feel about that, Ada. Not after we’ve been doing all this work to keep the Lily independent.” “Me neither.” She closed her eyes and pressed her hand against them, rubbing her temples tiredly with her thumb and index. “I don’t see a better way forward, though. If we don’t contest the Rotano Group with all we’ve got, they’ll bag the Lily, and that’s worse than cutting deals.” She shook her head. “I didn’t plan for this, believe me. The idea of taking over this place is like inheriting a fortune by poisoning my own grandma. It’s just that letting John Goldman have this is even worse. At least this way, I’ve got an ace up my sleeve to make sure our donors can’t push us around too badly.” Grace huffed a little. “Just for the record, Maksim, I argued against this. The Lily should stay independent, but you know how faeries can get.” “Faeries. You cut a deal with the fae to get the Lily,” Maksim said. His voice was flat. “I dug up the Lily’s history. It used to be one of their favorite haunts, way back when it was first popular. You’d be amazed by how much they want it to return to its former glory.” She pursed her lips. “But you don’t think them getting involved is good news, do you.” “I don’t care about them either way,” Maksim said. “But I know if they’re the ones you’re relying on to save the Lily, then they’re going to do whatever they want to the place the minute your back’s turned. Don’t you dare pretend otherwise. What’s the difference, if the Rotano’s bulldoze the place or your new friends 'renovate’ it? It’s not going to be the Lily that I love.” “So what is it that you love about it?” Ada asked. “I know exactly what the Lily’s soul is to me, but I bet it’s not quite the same as it is to you. Work with me here. Maybe we can turn this into a win-win-win for all involved.” “So, what, now you want to throw me a bone after you waltzed in here, talking like you already own the place?” He glanced from Ada to Grace and back, a look of shock and betrayal on his face. “I’m trying, Ada. I’m trying really, really hard to give you the benefit of the doubt right now, to say to myself that you didn’t just plan this whole thing. You didn’t string me along until I was good and desperate before suddenly appearing with your big old white savior pile of money, thinking I’ll just roll over and you can walk away with everything you want out of this deal, but it’s hard. This stinks. This stinks like something Midas would do. Don’t give me that ‘it can’t be helped’ line when you’re the one who benefits from the outcome. I thought we were friends.” “We are friends,” Ada emphasized, firmly. “Maks, if there’s something I can do to prove to you that I didn’t plan this, I’m all ears. I didn’t want to own the Lily when we first met and I still don’t. This place means a lot to me because of the person who owned it when I performed on its stage. She taught me life lessons. Taking over when I don’t know if I can do a good job of running it the way she would’ve wanted to isn’t something I’m thrilled over.” She sighed and leaned forward, resting her arm on Maks’ desk to steady herself. “But I’m willing to give it my best shot, and I want the people who really care about this place to have a voice. And that means I want your thoughts on it. How do we keep its soul safe from the fairies’ clutches?” “You don’t sell out to them!” Maksim snapped. “Alright,” Ada said, scowling. “And then what? You got any ideas on how to make hundreds of thousands of dollars overnight? Say we shovel people in and charge ‘em a hundred bucks a ticket. Even if we put everyone shoulder to shoulder, we’d maybe make a tenth of the minimum bid. Make everyone buy an expensive t-shirt, that’s another 10% of the baseline deal Goldman’s getting. No single concert was ever gonna save the Lily, Maks. That was just a pipe dream. We need to get the whole city behind us to make something happen, and as far as the town’s concerned, we’re nobodies. I’d rather sell out than get bought out cuz I couldn’t match the wallet of a hotel magnate.” “Well if that’s how you feel, I can make two phone calls and sell out to my family in Chicago instead,” Maksim said bitterly. “At least they’re devils I know.” Grace leaned over the desk towards Maksim. “And fae are devils I know. This isn’t just selling it to them outright. They want her name involved. Which means Ada is involved, and that she’ll need someone to represent her interests in The Lily. Somebody local who will put The Lily first over whatever other schemes they have going on, and isn’t afraid to tell their boss ‘no’ when they need to.” She smiled sadly as she continued. “Saving The Gilded Lily is just part of saving this whole drat town from people who don’t even like it here. And you know this isn’t gonna be the last fight over this place.” “I’m just a performer-” Maksim started to say. “In what world are you ‘just’ a performer, Maks?” Grace almost snapped at him. “If Midas wasn’t throwing an obscene amount of money around, you’d have saved this place yourself already!” She picked up a random piece of paper from his desk. “Do performers…” She took a second to figure out exactly what was on the page “...haggle over bulk liquor discounts? You’re already doing the work. And you’re good at it.” (Grace, Rapport: +/+- +4 = +5 vs Diff 4 - Create Advantage “You Can Do The Thing”) Maksim sighed, not saying anything for a moment. He piled a few of the loose papers on his desk up instead, not in any particular order. Grace silently placed the liquor invoice she’d stolen from him on one of his piles. She knew she probably wasn’t the best person to make this argument, but, at least he wasn’t the only one in over their head here. The temptation to press Maksim was strong, but Ada held herself back and gave him time. People were like branches: flexible, but put too much pressure on them and they’d snap. If she pressed now and failed, it’d be the final nail in the coffin for her and Grace’s credibility — it was a good approach to try, but only at the right moment, and this wasn’t it. Not yet. “I need to understand what’s going on,” Maksim said finally. “The last I heard, Ada, you were trying to get the faeries to renew a contract for food and drink, stuff that would definitely help this place re-open in style. But that’s all I thought they were going to be involved with. Why are they trying to set you up as the owner? What do they get out of that?” "They wanted concessions on usage," Ada explained. "Guaranteed tables, occasionally the ability to rent the whole place out for private parties. The opportunity to get even with Midas was a powerful lure too. They're still sore over being turned down by him for a business partnership." The recency of that failure wasn't worth elaborating on. "The contract isn't with them, though. Summer's the one interested in bankrolling our acquisition of the Lily, but the ones who signed the contract are the Svartalves. I've got a meeting scheduled with them tonight. No promises on how it'll go, but I'm hopeful I can get a renewal." “Summer? As in Pontchartrain?” Maksim’s eyebrow went up. “I didn’t think this was his kinda gig.” "Not him, the courtiers at Oak Alley who used to run with Narcissus. They haven't given up on the finer things in life yet." “Oh… hm.” He seemed a little more intrigued by that. “Anyone I know? Tessa? Yuri?" “Not that I’ve met. Hob, Bjergsra, a rather sassy dog-headed gentleman who goes by Cadair…” Grace looked to Ada for backup. "You'll have to introduce us to your friends sometime," Ada chimed in. "We aimed towards the higher end of the food chain. Figured we'd need the heavy hitters in our corner if we were gonna make something happen on such short notice." “The point is, Maksim, New Orleans is their home too. And they’re willing to put some skin in the game to keep it that way. They’re also faeries, so they won’t do it without a bunch of extra running around and trading favors. And what they want is to throw the occasional party here.” “Hob’s crew? Huh, they were scraping the bottom of the barrel last time I got to party at Oak Alley,” Maksim said. “A lot changes after a coup, though. It’s been two or three years. Wonder how they ended up on top.” He shrugged. “Well I don’t know them personally but I can at least talk to them, see if ‘the occasional party’ is actually what they want.” He scratched the back of his head, looking down at his somewhat neater stacks of papers. “I just… the whole point of doing this was to keep the Gilded Lily from becoming just another tourist destination. It’s our place, not theirs. That means it has to stay cheap and available, because there isn’t anywhere else that is. And maybe that means it stays a little grungy and doesn’t look good on a magazine cover, maybe that means the stagehands get to smoke weed backstage, maybe it means the talent can just throw impromptu free concerts or music classes for each other’s kids. I don’t know. If you fix it up real nice, if you make it like it was back when the original owner ran it, I feel like we’re gonna lose all of that. It’ll be a swanky joint for people with money. People like you, Ada, not people like me.” She could feel the weight of his stare upon her right now, almost accusingly calling out the stylishness of her dress. He’s one to talk, though, she thought, letting her face assume a mask of almost doll-like impassiveness as she tented her fingers and let her annoyance stew inside her. I know I’m working this outfit pretty well but he couldn’t make anyone actually believe he was working class with that getup. He looks like a heartthrob ripped straight out of a soap opera aimed at pent-up teens. It was nothing more than unfair ressentiment, though, and she knew it. Maksim looked good, but that had all to do with his family’s genes and none to do with how easy a life he’d led. He bore the tell-tale marks of hard living -- subtle callouses in his hands, excessive thinness, overly-jutting cheekbones..it all came together to make a starving artist look, one she’d seen in other artists living day to day. A look Zia had once embodied completely, before she’d found her footing and gone beyond it. He’s scared, she thought. Scared of losing what little precious things he has. And if I don’t protect them for him, no one will. “...It can’t stay just the way it is now,” she said, eventually. “I saw what it used to be, Maks. The Lily’s not even a shadow of her former glory, and if I’m gonna run this joint, I’m gonna make sure it goes back to being a place Ginger Chatelaine would be proud of. I owe her memory that much.” “Her memory’s more important than the kids in here last month, getting their first chance to sing off-key on a real stage in front of a real audience?” Maksim pleaded. “There’s nowhere else for them to get that experience. One of ‘em could go on to be the next Beyonce. And it isn’t just kids either, it’s the cover bands and the comedians, the improv groups, and that one bunch of actors performing Cats for the thirtieth time. They just need a space to do it that isn’t going to charge them more than they’ll ever make back in ticket sales.” “I get that, Maks,” Ada said, softly. “But no one else cares. You can’t rile up the city to save the Little League’s sandlot. If we want to save the Lily, it has to evolve. It’s got to become a place where flowers bloom, not just a seedbed.” The light went out of Maksim’s eyes as he snuffed the stub of his cigarette in the ashtray on the desk. “You’re probably right,” he said quietly. “No one cares. But if you are, tell me why I should care if you get the place over Goldman. Not seeing a whole lot of difference, right now.” “Because I — we — can do something about what we’re about to lose. The proceeds from the concert won’t even come close to matching Goldman’s bid, but we can use them to set up a new site for people to cut their teeth at. And once they’re ready, we can give them a pipeline straight to a stage where they will get noticed. If the next Beyoncé really does come out of the sandlot, we can make sure she gets the chance at the big time she deserves, right here at the Lily, without having to spend years making the right contacts just to get booked at a place worth half a drat.” “Where’s the money coming from, if not the concert?” Maksim asked, expression guarded. “We open up an online fundraiser, get the whole city’s eyes on this place.” Ada spoke quickly, her words almost clipping each other in the rush to get them out. “Hell, maybe even the country’s if we can spread the word enough. That is the kind of money that can match the Rotano Group’s bid. Extend our reach to save the Lily’s future, and use the ticket prices to make sure we can preserve its present. I used to be a hood rat, way back when. I know where to find buildings no one’s using. We can grab one of those, recondition it and turn it into a proper training stage. Community-driven, no special interests behind it except the promise of an audition at the Lily if you got your start there. What do you think?” “I think it sounds a little too good to be true,” Maksim said, but there was a flicker of hope in his eyes where it had been ruthlessly stamped out a moment ago. “I want approval over the building. Getting the cheapest abandoned warehouse you can find next to the Hellmouth won’t work for me, it has to be safe for families.” “Wouldn’t want it to be otherwise.” Maksim crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, the faeries you’re letting bankroll you might do that, so I gotta be careful. Can’t take decency or kindness on trust knowing they’re part of the equation.” “They’re total profit-mongers,” Ada agreed, nodding her head vigorously. When next she spoke, though, her voice held a note of warning. ”That’s not an excuse for paranoia, though, Maks. The game they play has rules. Long as we play it better than them, they won’t have room to intervene and turn this into another capitalist venture.” “I’m only alive because I know how to play the game, Ada. There’s no such thing as paranoia when it comes to faeries and vampires. They’re ALL out to get you.” “Don’t threaten me with a good time by telling me you’re after me too. I might have to play harder to get,” she said, favoring him with an exaggerated wink. He leaned in very slightly, his lips in a pout, his gorgeous eyes deep and inviting. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell,” he said, and Ada’s skin started to crawl in a familiar and darkly pleasing way… Grace's open palm hit his desk with a bang, breaking the silence. "C'mon, Maks, I'm her bodyguard now. That ain't cool." …and then it stopped abruptly, like a song Ada remembered from long ago cut off right in the middle. Maks was rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut, as if he had a headache. “Haven’t eaten this week, just no time for it. Don’t flirt if you aren’t offering.” Ada rolled her eyes. “Typical starving artist,” she said, sharing a knowing glance with Grace as she tried surreptitiously to steady her quickened breathing. Grace’s intervention had been timely. While she could’ve fought off the whammy…probably, anyways…it would have been a bad idea to rattle the beast’s cage. “Take the rest of today off and get yourself back into top shape, alright? You can talk to the performers to see how they feel about this plan tomorrow. The worst of it is already over. We’ve got resources for a serious attempt and we’ve got a plan. The only thing that’s left is to execute.” “Right... Well, my people already thought it was a goodbye concert. This just makes it official, so I don’t think they’ll have a problem. A new community arts center will be a cherry on top for them.” He sighed, beautifully, and both Ada and Grace felt a little flutter in their chests. “...ugh. Yeah, I’ve been fasting way too long. I’ll take the afternoon, go hit up a nursing home.” A choking sound came out of Grace, followed by a cough. “You’re just… nibbling, right? Or is this like an angel of mercy thing?” Maksim stared at her for a long moment, unblinking. Eventually he settled on: “Yeah.” Grace just shook her head at Maksim in response. “Anyway, once you’re less hungry, I still owe you a trip to visit Ethan, yeah? Maybe news of some music executives showing up will help smooth that over.” Grace turned fully to Ada, so Maksim was out of her line of sight. “But I also need to go dig some guy out of the swamp today, if I have time.” “There’s no way you’ll be able to get that one before ‘lunch time’ is over,” Ada said, dismissing the idea with a cutting wave of her hand, along with the troubling thoughts about Maksim’s diet for the moment. Not now.. “Hell, you probably won’t even be able to get started. See if you can’t sort out the problem with Ethan first. After, the coast should be clear for ‘archaeological digging’.” “I haven’t even heard from the old man since this morning, anyway.” Grace shrugged. “What, did you blow him off to come with me?” Ada let out a little laugh. “No wonder then. He’s probably still fuming about it. He’ll come out of his funk sooner or later though, don’t worry. You can bet he won’t stop calling once he does.” “Yeah, just a little bit. We’ll make it work.” She turned back to Maksim. “Let me know when you’re not starving and we’ll go hit up Ethan, yeah?” “You really want to do that today?” Maksim asked, reaching for another cigarette. “No time like the present, Maks.” No wonder she’s my champion, Ada thought. She gets it. How can we push to save the city if we don’t push to make the most out of every second? Transient People fucked around with this message at 18:07 on May 31, 2022 |
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May 31, 2022 18:01
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Something(‘s Got) To Give Scene: Gilded Lily Parking Lot As they returned to the parking lot, Ada couldn’t get Maksim’s response to Grace’s question about his feeding habits out of her mind. “Yeah”. It was the mildest, most noncommittal statement possible. It fit Maksim’s mouth about as well as a condom on a gear stick, and it was about that useful besides. What are we supposed to do though? Just smile and openly admit he’s gonna find someone and kill them for sustenance? End a human life to keep his? Not even he wants to face it. If he had, he would’ve tried to soften the blow. She breathed in deeply, trying to keep her poker face steady. This is gonna have to change, someday. I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but there’s gonna be a time when I can’t look away from man-eating in this kind of way anymore just because the ones doing it have pretty, friendly faces. And if we can’t find a peaceful solution that doesn’t involve trading away dozens of lives a year for the sake of one, then… She looked up, saw something in Grace’s expression too. “Not every day you really get hit by the fact the guy you’re working with eats people, huh.” Grace stared at nothing for a beat before replying. “I overreacted when I found out he was a vampire, and then I think I just under-reacted to…” She echoed Maksim’s “Yeah.” before she let out a long breath. “But that’s the rub with finding out there’s more than humans out here, ain’t it? And god knows he’s far from the worst. Not even counting the humans that deserve a worse fate than however Maksim feeds himself.” Ada’s nod was slow, and graver than a death sentence. “And it’s our problem now. A human rights coalition will run headfirst into this kinda thing eventually. How do we tell our followers that it’s OK for them to get eaten by this kind of monster? They’ll start asking why their loved ones had to die this way eventually. And we can either betray their trust, or…” The knife case was in one of her pockets. Within a moment, she had the obsidian knife in her hand, her stare fixed to its dark, ever-sharp edge. “...But the bloodshed’s got to end at some point. It can’t just stop when everyone else is dead. That’s not a coalition, that’s a purge.” Grace was quiet again before replying. “We didn’t have a lot of rules in Florida. But the few rules we did have were hard. If you broke them…” She shivered visibly. “Justice was swift and irreparable. And the whole clan was involved. So, everybody knew exactly where that line was, and to stay as far away from it as possible. When we could. I don’t know everything about Maksim, but it feels like he’s trying his best to stay on this side. I’m just not sure how successful he’s being.” She gave Ada a hard look. “What about you? Been close to that line?” Ada didn’t answer for a while, opting instead to simply stare at the skyline and the clouds beyond them.. “We speaking in confidence?” she asked, eventually. Grace joined Ada in staring at the sky. In retrospect, they probably should have had this conversation before she signed on. Her secret that should have stayed where it was born and died, in Florida. But if this partnership was going to work, she needed to be honest. And hopefully learn that honesty in return. She was quiet when she finally spoke. “We had a smuggler problem in the swamp. Exotic animals. Drugs.” She just whispered the next word. “Kids.” Grace let that hang there for a second. “Florida pays a bounty for snakes. Pythons. They’re an invasive species. And they pay per foot. Couple hundred bucks for a big one. 13 people in a circle can invite a spirit into a body, even if they don’t want it. There’s no body to be found if the game warden takes ‘em away in his truck. So, yeah. I hope we’re speaking in confidence.” Ada nodded, slowly. Vigilante justice. Someone who deserved it, too. But the Laws of Magic don’t care about that. Does sharing the burden make it any different? If it’s a choice as a group and not just your own? She hoped so, anyway. There was no due process to be found in that sentence, but due process was a polite suggestion in the face of ruined lives. “...I’ve killed two people,” she said. “First one was my old gang leader. He was beating up a fellow Rookie and I got in the way. He beat the crap out of me, but he didn’t expect me to use magic to sucker punch him the way I did. Pierced his heart with a blood lance.” She breathed in deeply. “That was years ago when I was fourteen. The second one was about six months ago. One of Maksim’s cousins whose life I saved decided to repay me by serving as an ‘impartial’ third party in my duel against the witch Circe. Her idea of impartiality was forcing me to choose between murdering one of her old goons who’d failed to protect her sister from a hit and letting Rick become Circe’s enslaved boytoy.” Her knuckles whitened around the knife. “I decided his life was more valuable to me than the goon’s. Tore the latter’s heart right out of his chest with blood claws to find the key I needed to win the duel.” She closed her eyes. Her pulse quickened just by thinking about it, shame and excitement building up in equal, rapid measure as she remembered the look on the man’s face as he died. “Killing…it’s sticky...like the taste of sweet alcohol,” she muttered, through gritted teeth. “It stays with you. Tempts you to take another sip. It’s never really gone away since my second kill either. And these days, it’s getting stronger. I’m scheduled for a magical ritual to try to curb that bloodlust soon. It’s either gonna kill me, or give me a new lease on life before I lose my marbles.” She opened her eyes. “I get what Maksim’s going through. I truly do. I don’t wanna kill him or anyone else if I don’t have to. But if we don’t find an alternative like I did…” There was another long silence between the two women. “Half of me, my other half… people are just animals. Animals are just meat. And they’re going to die eventually anyway. If they deserved to live they would fight harder. Or be less tasty. It’s impersonal. I’m not sure which is worse. But all 3 of us are trying to make this world a better place, that has to count for something, or we should just go let the old man cut our heads off.” She gave Ada a little elbow nudge, alluding to humor that was missing from the conversation. “Yeah. Maybe we should.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite make it work. “...It’s all about how much effort we’re willing to put into trying to fit in, I think. There’s got to be a point where it’s enough and we start being just quirky instead of dangerous. Hell if I know where the line’s drawn, though.” She sighed. “Think this is why nobody’s tried to unify a town like this before? It’s nothing but unclear situations and blurred lines.” That got a grin from Grace. “Oh, I’m sure it’s been tried before. We can’t be the first ones who’ve tried. I just can’t think of anybody who’s done it successfully before. The Everglades worked, for the most part, but because there was just us. Getting 50 or 100 people to follow rules and act like adults ain’t easy, but it’s not…” Grace gestured towards the heart of the city. “All this.” “No. No it isn’t.” Ada’s gaze drifted downwards, towards the road and the buildings. “It’s all about how you deal with the people who don’t or can’t play by the rules that makes all the difference.” She shot Grace a look. “What were the Everglades like? “Hot. Loud, but still. Always a bug buzzing or bird squawking or fish splashing. But more than that it was a weird little slice of real wilderness. A place where nature was still in charge, and everyone filled their own little niche. Even the faeries knew to respect the ‘glades. We were the bridge between the swamp and the human world. Most of the time that just meant sunning where the airboats liked to go by. Give the tourists a thrill without putting them in too much danger, that sort of thing. Keep the snakes out, as much as anyone can. It was… I knew who I was, and how I fit into that world. Before he was stolen from me.” She closed her eyes, regretting that slip of the tongue, trying not to cry. The tears felt inevitable, but she still tried to keep them in. This was not how today was supposed to go. A few moments later, Grace felt a pair of tiny arms wrap around her, a pair of tiny but strong hands press against her back. “I’m adding a new rule,” Ada said, her voice low and soothing. “It’s OK for my champion to cry. Whenever and wherever you feel like it. It’s not a show of weakness. It shows how strong you were to let someone in like that, even knowing you might lose them someday.” Grace smiled through her tears. “Thank you, Ada, I just… I don’t think about him much. It’s easier that way.” She hugged her new boss back, just a little too tight before releasing her. “Anyway…” She tried to dry some of the tears. “Where I was trying to go with this is that none of us woke up and thought, yeah, today’s a good day to end someone’s life. When you’re right there, facing it… it’s not really a choice. You do it or you don’t, and that’s who you are. There’s no big moral whatever. Not until after.” “Yeah, and by then, the momentum of the choice you made pushes you forward. You’ve got no time to second-guess, ‘cause the consequences are already coming for you. And the more you do it, the more natural it gets, the easier it gets, until you stop thinking about it.” She looked back at the Lily and then sighed. “...Man. I’ve got my own poo poo to deal with, but even so, I think people like Maksim have it way worse than I do.” Slowly, the knife went back into its case, the case into its pocket. “This is why I always try to do what no one else has, Grace,” she said, seriously. “This world’s so broken it’s gotten people stuck in a loop of violence and hurting, and no one deserves to live life that way. And there’s someone I’ve been trying to get out of that hole that I’ll have to introduce you to, some day.” Grace put a hand on Ada’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “And you will. Get them out, I mean. Or die trying. Death is a part of life, but the violence and hurting doesn’t have to be. And one day, when you’re queen, you’ll fix at least some of it. And hopefully you’ll also have a better spot to cry afterwards than the parking lot of an old theater, too. C’mon, let’s get moving before Maksim thinks we’re plotting something else. Seriously, we’re burning daylight here and I gotta find some lunch soon.” “Yeah,” Ada said, nodding. “Let’s.”
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May 31, 2022 18:06
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A Dream of Summer Scene: The End of the World Down by the water, near the military base that had been abandoned just last year, on the side of the overwhelmed levee that pointed towards the city, there was a quiet place that no one claimed for their own. It was an abandoned zone, hidden behind train tracks and broken fences, where those with too much on their mind came to think and stare at the water of the Industrial Canal. It had no name, but it had gained a nickname. Its visitors called it ‘The End of the World’. Sitting by the riverfront, Ada couldn’t shake off a strange feeling of mingle elation and unease. This place was powerful. It was young and new and accidental, and yet, she could still feel the energy in the air, pulsing through it like a steady heartbeat. It spoke of resolutions, of irrevocable decisions, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it had really been her choice to come here or if something she couldn’t name had called her there. The house knows what goes on behind closed doors, she thought. Maybe the city knows I just kickstarted a change within its borders. Maybe it wants me to think about what I’ve done. She leaned back, rested her head against the overgrown grass, and sighed. I just can’t shake off the feeling that what I did at Oak Alley hasn’t caught up to me yet. It’s like an explosion whose shockwave only reaches you half a minute after the blast. It was the right call, but…how painful is it gonna be? And what’s it gonna cost? The wind rustled softly in her ears, counterpointed by the splashing of the waves within the canal. They were talking to each other quietly, catching up on the events of the day, and waiting…waiting for something. Waiting for her. “Don’t get your panties in a twist,” she murmured. “I’m going, I’m going…” With a groan, she pulled herself upwards and craned her neck back and forth, cracking it left, then right. How did it go again? “Rubeansidhe,” she whispered. “Rubeansidhe. Rubeansidhe. Come to me.” “I’m here, dear one,” Ruby’s voice whispered, and Ada felt something warm and soft against her back. Ruby was there, leaning against her, still buried beneath many layers of coats. Even so, she still shivered like a leaf in a high wind. “I was just thinking it would be nice to talk again. But, brr! The air is chill today, isn’t it?” “A little.” In spite of the urgency of the news she bore, Ada couldn’t keep herself from smiling. “Maybe not quite arctic circle-chic worthy, though. How many sweaters are you even wearing?” She could see a little puff of cold air out the corner of her eye, dropping down towards the grass if she looked closely enough. “Not enough,” Ruby said, pressing her back into Ada’s as if she could steal her warmth. She looked around at the strange, empty park for a moment, taking in the canal, the boats passing by, and the flat gray wall of the defunct naval base, where someone enterprising had painted OPEN YOUR EYES in capital letters two stories tall. “Where is this place? I’ve never been here before.” Ada threw her arms out. “Welcome to the End of the World,” she announced, putting as much gusto into it as she could muster. “It’s in Bywater. The place forgotten by the city that care forgot. We’ve got it all to ourselves right now.” Letting her arms fall, her left hand moved to grasp Ruby’s right. “It’s the youngest place in the City to have earned itself a name, born of all the things we’ve left behind. Kinda cool, huh?” Ruby squeezed her hand back, but her skin was icy cold to the touch. “Very cool,” she said. “Maybe I’d like a few more trees… But I suppose it isn’t as easy for you to make it out to our special place anymore.” “I would’ve if I could’ve,” Ada said, softly. “Today’s been nonstop action. Same as every other day lately. It’s prolly gonna be like this from here on out. I can barely make time for doing the things I need to do, forget anything that I can only justify wanting.” Ada grimaced. “Jeeze, you’re so cold. Hold on a second, I’ll warm you up a little,” she said. Raising Ruby’s hand up, she clasped it with her right, then began blowing on it and rubbing it with both hands. “Ada!” Ruby said, giggling like a schoolgirl. “What are you doing?” “Taking care of you. What else?” Chasing an impulse, she turned around and pulled Ruby into a full hug. “It’s been too long since we last talked. I’ve missed you.” Ruby hugged her back, resting her head on Ada’s shoulder and breathing out slowly until all the tension seemed to leave her body. “I’ve missed you too. It always feels like forever, even if it’s only been a few days.” “Hah.” The laugh came out half-choked, as if it had had to fight its way out her throat. “Ain’t that the truth. I’ve got so much to tell you.” But she didn’t keep going. Instead, she waited a few more moments. Ruby needed them, and as for her… Feels nice to be able to spend time with someone who actually knows me, even if what’s inside me’s so ugly. There was a twinge of guilt in there, still, but it was overshadowed by the relief of knowing Ruby’d already seen the worst of her and was still here. It felt like somewhere inside her, her social batteries, always running at full capacity, were being given a rare moment to recharge. Eventually, however, Ada pulled away. All good things had to end, and she couldn’t put this off any longer. “I’ve been chasing my dream, making connections, finding allies. It hasn’t been easy, but today, I had a major breakthrough. The first group of rebels signed on with me.” “Oh?” Ruby asked. Her cheeks were red as apples, and though Ada had pulled away, Ruby hadn’t released her left hand yet. “That’s wonderful news.” “Yeah,” Ada smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe for me. My first set of followers are the fairies of Oak Alley, the ex-minions of Narcissus.” At the mention of her former master’s name, Ruby scowled. “Sycophants and hangers on. Not to be trusted or given high places. I wish I could say I were surprised, but of course the rats would seek out a new ship once their old one sank. Why would you settle for such… low class trash?” “Because they were desperate, and I knew exactly how to play them,” Ada answered honestly. “And it’s already paid off. They’ve recognized me as their Lady...and they’re going to throw their full might behind helping me get and save the Lily.” Ruby recoiled at that. “Eighty years, repeating the same lines, to the same dull-witted, slack-jawed fools. Helplessly watching the Lily fall to disrepair and misuse, twice over. Did you think I would smile and celebrate at this news? I can think of no worse outcome than handing the keys to my first stage to the people I loathe most in all the world. Even should Midas knock it down-” “No,” Ada cut her off, firmly. “They’re not getting the deed. I’d rather set myself on fire than let anyone unworthy own it. It’s gonna be mine, and when I said I was their new Lady, I meant it. They can make requests, but no one will renovate a single tile without my say-so. Count on that.” Ruby struggled with it for a moment, but finally sighed. “I will then, but you need to know that if you allow them to make requests they’ll drown you in them until you need three aides to sort through them all. They’ll wear on you like a coarse shirt until you’ll give them anything just to be rid of them for a moment. I’ve seen it too many times not to warn you of the danger.” “I’ll make sure to put in a good filter between us then,” Ada reassured her. “Though I don’t know just how many requests they’ll even have time to make.” She squared up. Moment of truth now. “Helping out with the Lily’s bid wasn’t the only thing the fairies signed up for. I convinced them to strike at Winter and kick them out of town, and it’s not gonna be me doing the dirty work for them. They’ll have to participate from the frontlines. It’s gonna be war between the Courts in New Orleans — fast, brutal, and all-out.” Ruby dropped Ada’s hand and seemed to shrink into her coats, until only her face above the nose was visible. Her eyes grew hard and cold. “I see.” “It’s why I called you here. Maybe I can come up with a plan that tears the Winter Court to pieces and hands me the city center on a silver platter, but I’m not banking on it. And if we can’t end it in a flash, all the vassals of Winter in the city will be called upon to bear arms.” She paused for a moment, uncertain of how to continue, but she had to. Ruby needed to know just what was at stake. “Isabel and I might have to fight each other. Hell, if you choose the Winter Court after all, you and I will—” “--be sworn enemies,” Ruby finished. She was shaking. “You’re declaring war on my family’s protectors. I’ll have to move them immediately, and I will have no choice but to explain why. I did not watch over you while you slept for eighty years to let you kill each other now.” “Yeah. I’m not looking forward to it either,” Ada said, nodding in agreement. “Is there any way we can persuade your mother to go away from New Orleans while this coup goes down?” “I can think of one,” Ruby said quietly. “If I agree to the change, and request a distant location. But we will not be coming back, Ada. If Winter is banished from New Orleans, then so too are we. Do not tell me that your new allies will be willing to make exceptions for oathbreakers and turncoats. I know them better than you do.” “No, I don’t think they will.” She grit her teeth, her free hand clenching into a fist. “loving fairy politics. As far as I’m concerned, you never switched sides in the first place. Why do I need to care about what a bunch of spineless sycophants think about my best friend?” “Because you have chosen those spineless sycophants to be your vassals,” Ruby said harshly. “Like everyone else is any better,” Ada muttered. “You’d think people would be chomping at the bit to try to do things different, maybe stop being crushed underneath a monstrous foot for a while, but nah, easier to just kick back and bitch about how much everything sucks than try to change it.” She huffed and shook her head. “I’m getting sidetracked, though. You’re right, I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. It’s just…god. I don’t wanna say goodbye, Rubes. Not like this.” “What you need to understand is that when you make your bed, all of us have to lie in it,” Ruby said. “I don’t want to say goodbye either, but what choice have you left me? Even should I renounce Winter and run, even if the Summer Court could be convinced to let my father and my younger, mortal self alone, my mother has already shifted her allegiances. And before you criticize her for it, it’s almost certain that Winter would have imprisoned us instead of put us under guard if she hadn’t. Our position has been impossibly precarious ever since we spared Narcissus and turned him in. And now you force my hand with this gambit… You are cruel to me, dear one. I wonder why you fought so hard to save my life, if you would cast me away so easily.” “Because you deserved it, and I wasn’t gonna let you hurt yourself like that. Same way I deserve the future I chose for myself, even if it costs me everything.” The words were strong, but Ada couldn’t hold Ruby’s gaze as she spoke, looking at the murky waters of the Industrial Canal instead. “...Ruby, am I doing the wrong thing by chasing this dream?” she asked. “Am I just doing the same thing you did when you tried to erase yourself? I know I want this, but…” “If I told you to stop, would you?” Ruby asked seriously. “I knew I wanted Emma’s life more than I wanted mine. I knew it in my bones. I chased that dream knowing it would cost me everything, and if the choice had come down to her or me, if we had not been able to find a workaround, I would have chosen her. I cannot lie, Ada. I know deeply the pain of chasing self-destructive dreams. And sometimes I can’t help but wonder, who is this revolution for?” Ada bit her lip, and remained silent for a few moments. “For everyone,” she said, eventually. “And for me. The world took away my chance to have a life I could be happy with. So since I can’t have that, I’ll just make everyone have a good life, myself included, whether they want it or not.” “What if I could give you a good life?” Ruby asked, touching Ada’s cheek and turning her face back to meet her own. “A life you’d be happy with. Every day would be a beautiful adventure, with just the two of us. Why do all this work for people who won’t love you, or thank you for it, when I’ll do both?” It was a tempting idea, she thought as she stared into Ruby’s eyes. To just ditch everything, run away, start off somewhere new. See the world, together. But there was just one little problem… “Could you get me to stop hating myself too?” Ada asked, quietly. “if I had to wake up every morning knowing I could’ve done this and quit?” “I can fill your life with happiness and light, but it would be your choice to accept those gifts,” Ruby said sadly. “Or reject them, and cling to a might-have-been filled with suffering and regrets. I’m sorry, but you’re the only one who can stop hating yourself, dear one.” “Yeah…” A sigh escaped Ada’s lips. “...It’s funny. When I was talking with the fairies earlier, I had the strangest feeling. Like I was doing things I couldn’t take back, but…it was also like I was finally doing what I was supposed to do, too. Like I was finally in the right place at the right time, after all the effort I’d been putting in for that meeting. For a moment, it was like…it was like I was all alone, watching the limits I’d been dealing with crumble all around me like shattered walls.” Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against Ruby’s. “...I don’t care who says we can’t be together,” she said, after a moment, and her voice had her old strength again. “You’re not an oathbreaker to me, Ruby. You’re the sweetest, most loyal friend in the world, and no one will ever convince me otherwise. I started this whole revolution because the system was broken and I was tired of playing ball with it just to lose everything that mattered to me. If having you by my side is something the fairy world can’t accept, then gently caress it, it just means the fairy world isn’t worth keeping. We’ll make a new one instead, together.” “What happened to ‘even if it costs me everything?’” Ruby whispered, her breath steaming against Ada’s cheeks. “Such a self-fulfilling prophecy, that one.” “Yeah. It’s a choice I had to make,” she said, soaking in the reproach, not shying away from it. Her own breath quickened as the wind picked up speed, and suddenly, she felt…no, she knew, she knew that this was another big choice being made. “Push comes to shove, I want to keep going, no matter what, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept what others think I should do. It’s my future. Not theirs. Some things, you just can’t leave behind when you move on to the next thing.” Opening her eyes, she looked at Ruby and smiled. “Wherever I go, I want you to come with me.” “Me too,” Ruby said, breathlessly. And then she stood right up on her tiptoes, leaned forwards, and kissed her. For a moment, time stood still. The shock of surprise coursed through Ada’s body like a thunderbolt impact, awakening all five of her senses as if she’d just popped open the Sight. Ruby’s lips were so soft as they pressed against hers, softer than silk, and her breath was sweet and sugary with a flowery aftertaste, like nectar… Wait, but, why, I mean, I thought… a part of her scrambled, trying to make any sense of what was going on. But it doesn’t matter if it makes sense or doesn’t. It just is. And even though she couldn’t make heads or tails of the reasons behind it, Ada parted her lips and closed her eyes and reached out with her free hand towards Ruby’s back, holding her in place. And though she still didn’t understand anything, and she still couldn’t shake off a sticky, painful sense of guilt, it was all right, for just one moment. Eventually, she ran out of air, and gradually began to pull away. For a moment, Ada just stood there, panting, unsure of what to say, of whether she even needed to say anything. “Ahhh…” Ruby exhaled slowly, languorously, utterly pleased with herself. “I thought of stealing it away every time I visited the cherry tree, my sleeping beauty, but now I know I did right by waiting. I’ve been patient for so long, so very long…” She started to undo the buttons on her outermost coat. “Help me with this, I’m too warm. Too warm! For the first time in… I cannot remember how long!” She laughed, and it sounded like bells. The words made too much sense, and it was almost worse than them making none at all. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Ada found she had enough breath in her lungs to speak. “You…how long have you felt like this?” she asked, staring as fixedly at Ruby as she ever had at anyone. “Why are you so surprised?” Ruby asked. “Did you think I asked you to the gala for another reason? And then you danced with someone else! Hmph!” It was false outrage, but there was an undercurrent of truth there. But then her eyes fell. “It would have been wrong of me to say so when I was planning to die. And… you were taken. But I’m still here because of you, and I’m not going to miss my chance, not again. I love you, Ada duSang.” It was the truth. It couldn’t be anything but, fairies could never tell lies. Suddenly, all those remarks from Alisa and Maksim came flooding back and Ada felt incredibly foolish. Just loving kill me already, she thought, mournfully. How could I miss something like this when it was right in front of me?! A deep, deep blush spread across her face, leaving her as red as a tomato. But she could see the look on Ruby’s eyes now, the yearning for an answer. She deserved one, but what was she even supposed to say? Do I want this? Do I not? Is this a mistake? We’re both girls, does it matter if…? No, of course it doesn’t, it’s not about what she looks like. I just…what if I do something wrong? What if I say the wrong thing? What if she gets hurt? There was so much to think about, and absolutely no time to do it. Punting all the worries aside, Ada focused, trying to find the key thing, the one key thing she needed to decide to stop pondering and start doing. What was it, what was it… Is it a mistake? The question rang in her head, like the tolling of a bell, over and over again, drowning out all the others. This was it. If I say yes now, will I regret this later? Transient People fucked around with this message at 18:20 on May 31, 2022 |
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May 31, 2022 18:10
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… … … …It doesn’t matter, she thought, and suddenly, she knew, deep down in her bones, the one thing she needed to make her choice. Even if I do, it’ll be a mistake well worth making. “Ruby…” she whispered, forcing that little thread of a voice out. “I’m scared. I don’t know if we can work this. But…but…” she swallowed, and finished strongly. “...But I want to find out.” “That’s all I was waiting to hear,” Ruby purred. She was down to a pale pink cami, arms bare, radiating heat like a campfire. She looked more like her old self in that moment than she had since the visit to Yggdrasil. “I’ve had eighty-two years to figure out my feelings, dear one. It’s okay if you need longer than five minutes. But I will do my best to convince you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.” “No, I’m…” She was about to say ‘I’m not afraid’, but maybe a little fairy dust had fallen on her tongue earlier, because it wouldn’t let her speak falsehoods. She was afraid, afraid as she had ever been, of something she couldn’t quite name. A part of her was screaming, begging for time, for a chance to put all the pieces back together, and it wouldn’t stop, not even now that her mind was made up. “...Hold me,” she said, blinking fast, trying not to shiver. “Please.” “Sit with me, then,” Ruby said, gesturing to the discarded coats, which would make a nice buffer between them and the crab grass. Once they were down Ruby wrapped her arms around Ada, sitting taller so that Ada could be the one resting on her shoulder for once. The heat, so intimidating from a distance, was so soothing from up close. Slowly, Ada’s breathing stabilized, the voice screaming inside growing quieter and quieter. This was still Ruby. Her best friend…even if she was something more now. It was OK. Everything was OK. The unease didn’t fully go away, but she could deal with it. There was nothing to be afraid of. Eventually, Ada exhaled. “...Thanks. I needed that,” she murmured, curling up a little closer. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Ruby just gave a knowing laugh. “Sometimes we fail to see what’s right in front of us,” she said. “And sometimes we fail to see things about ourselves, like if we’re also interested in women. Don’t try to overthink your emotions. Enjoy them, while you have a moment to do so.” “Yeah. Yeah, maybe I should.” She didn’t say anything more for a moment. “...It’s nice,” she murmured, and immediately hated how stupid it sounded. “...Lying here with you, I mean. You’re warm. It’s like life’s good again.” Seriously, what’s wrong with me? I’m falling apart at the seams here. Get it together! Ruby reached behind her and bunched one of the coats up so she could lean against it like a pillow, then sank down slowly until she was mostly laying down, with Ada curled up at her side. “When you’re always dicing with devils, it’s important to have reminders that life can still be sweet. That there’s someone to come home to. Will you let me be that someone, Ada? I can feel how much you need it…” “I…” She wanted to say yes so badly, it was like a furball in her throat she needed to cough up. So why couldn’t she say it? What was holding her back? I don’t care how afraid I am. If I don’t say something, this chance’ll slip away forever. I won’t let it get away from me like this. I won’t! She nodded, very, very slowly. “Ruby…there’s something I wanna ask you,” she said, tensing up, marshaling all her strength for what she was about to do next. “Oh?” Ruby asked, stroking her hair softly. “Will you be my girlfriend?” she said, and forcing the words out took so much out of her she immediately had to breathe in deeply, completely out of breath. “Yes.” A single word, like the toll of a church bell, signaling some momentous occasion. Ruby scooted down and kissed her again. “Now take off that jacket before I do it for you.” “Yeah. Um…” she started fumbling for the buttons when her hand brushed against a bulge within one of the pockets. “...Oh! Just, gimme one second, there’s something I need to show you.” Her fingers were steady still, at least, and found the plastic case without too much trouble. Pulling it out, Ada clasped it in both hands and pressed it against Ruby’s stomach. “I bought you this when I went out shopping with Emma and Lucy,” she said, spreading her hands to reveal the case from Hot Topic, and the ruby-inlaid titanium crucifix contained within. “It’s for you. I bought it to remind you to always have faith.” “In who?” Ruby asked, her eyes gigantic as she took in the present. She took the case and opened it, dangling the cross above her face with the expression of a small child being given an entire cake. Then she sat up abruptly, holding the chain out to Ada. “Put it on me.” Pulling herself a little upwards for a better position, Ada took the cross and grasped both pieces of the necklace. Then, carefully and slowly, she slipped her hands past Ruby’s head, pulled the chain backwards, and snapped it shut with a satisfying click. Ruby gave a satisfied sigh, playing with the pendant with her right hand as she leaned back on her left. It hung at just the right length, as if it had been made for her. “It’s beautiful. I’ll barely ever take it off.” Ada got the feeling she would have liked to say ‘never’, but her fae side wouldn’t let her. “But I haven’t brought anything for you…” “You brought your love with you. I’m pretty sure your gift’s better than mine,” Ada said. A little laugh escaped her lips, and it was almost like something unlocked within. Suddenly she felt freer, less worried. It was gonna be OK. Not wanting to let the moment slip by her, she reached for the buttons of her trenchcoat, and in a few moments it fell down upon the grass. “So then,” she whispered, sliding down the slope just a little to end up face to face with Ruby again. “The coat’s off now. Where do we go next?” “Back to wherever you got that dress,” Ruby said, grinning as she openly ogled it. “I’m jealous. But… hm… I’ve been thinking, while we talked. The Oak Alley folk… have they broken from Summer entirely? It’s quite unusual for faeries to call a mortal their Lady.” “Not completely.” It was all too easy to slip back into reality and return to plotting, and it was only then that Ada realized how defenseless she’d been. Maybe that was why she’d felt so scared. I’ve spent so long keeping my guard up my arms twitch when I let them hang low. Feels like I’m held together by duct tape and spit at this point. Outwardly, however, she kept on going without missing a beat. “They want to form a splinter court, one to challenge Pontchartrain with. Breaking away from Summer’s their last resort. I think they’ll do it if they need to, but only if they have no other choice.” “Then they’re the ones I need to put in my debt,” Ruby said matter-of-factly. “There’s no chance of Summer forgiving me for what I’ve done, but a smaller group may be vulnerable. Especially if they need to impress their new Lady by showing some form of competence. I can use that.” “You’re gonna try to chain Hob’s people to you?” Ada asked, a note of incredulity in her voice. “That’s pretty gutsy. You sure you wanna go for that kind of high-risk play, Rubes? It’s not your style.” “I’ve had to learn to play much riskier games when I couldn’t remember exactly how a conversation had gone,” Ruby said, chuckling. “Hob plays the game well but he’s predictable, and he doesn’t understand how to go low when his opponent does. It’s why he’s never made much of himself. Very little ambition. If he’s so desperate that he’s turning outside the courts for aid, I’m sure he won’t say no to mine, even as he holds his nose when I walk in the room. Once I have something on him he won’t be able to put up a fuss about me anymore, even while he insults me behind my back.” “Doesn’t matter what he thinks, only what he does,” Ada murmured. “Do you need me to keep an eye out for something you can use?” “Hm, better not. If we’re caught conspiring too soon he’ll balk at the injustice of it. I have a few ideas, let me try it my way. It’s better for you too, you know. Once he has to admit he’s in an oathbreaker’s pocket he won’t be able to abandon you for Summer again when the winds change. A good threat to keep dangling over his head.” “That’s devious.” Ada broke into a grin. “I like it. I know you’ll find something to use against him. That just leaves your mom.” Suddenly, the colour drained from Ada’s face. “Oh, poo poo. Ruby, your mom. What’s she gonna say when she finds out about us?” Ruby started laughing. “Oh, she knows what a lesbian is, Ada! But she might be surprised, since I didn’t know myself until a while after I made my Choice. Emma’s still in denial, she puts her fingers in her ears every time I try to say something about it.” “Huh.” It made sense, thinking about it. If Ruby swung this way, then Emma probably did, too…even if it was a little hard to reconcile with how she’d talked about boys before. “If that’s the case, then that’s a load off my shoulders. Last thing I wanted was to piss her off in yet another way, considering what I’m gonna do.” She shrugged. “So what are we gonna do to keep her safe, then? Moving you all away is not an option. Especially not now,” she said, putting a hand on Ruby’s hip. “I’m thinking of going to the Morrigan,” Ruby said quietly. “The Banshees are all family, and should Winter call, they know her authority over us is greater than any save a Queen’s. Even the Ladies don’t outrank her. If she asks my mother to abstain, or sends her on another mission, then Winter won’t object. But… that is if she can be convinced to help us. I’ll also ask for her… perhaps approval is a strong word but at least her acknowledgement before I sever ties and truly call myself a Wyldfae. I could do it without that, and I will if I must, but it would mean never being invited back home, in a way.” Ada’s memory flashed with recollections of the severe woman she’d met at the gala not someone to trick or cheat, not unless you felt like taking stupid risks. “Didn’t she request a hefty price the last time she came here?” Her expression twisted into a frown. “What was it?” “To keep the Deathstone? Ah… I suppose there’s no harm in telling you now,” Ruby said. “A life for a life, that’s how it always goes. To keep the stone charged you would have been required to serve as a Banshee yourself, though our mortal aides are often used to… usher the more stubborn folk along. For each life ended in such a way, you would have been allotted the visions to save another. I feared that it would destroy you.” She took a deep, unhappy breath. “The stone I gave to you was charged by another, if you were curious, in just such a way. That’s why you were able to use it freely.” “It wouldn’t even be that hard to manage that now. God knows I had to come to terms with the idea of people getting hurt because of my choices…” Ada murmured, then shook her head. “But you’re right. I couldn’t have handled that back then. And that was just for the sake of a few visions, too. She’s gonna gouge us in exchange for a favor sending one of her people away like that. Do you want to do this alone too, or will you need me to help out?” “I confess that I don’t want to go alone… but bringing you would be a foolish risk. If she doesn’t like what she hears she could decide that you’re the reason I’ve gone rogue. If you’re not there, I can argue it down, but if you are, you’ll have to stand for yourself, and one wrong word will confirm all her invented suspicions.” “Yeah, well...not letting you go’s a foolish risk in the first place, but I’m not walking back my decision to keep you with me.” Smiling, Ada gave Ruby a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll go see the Morrigan with you. We’ll find a way to make it work.” Ruby sighed. “Not walking it back is why you can’t be the one to come,” she said. “I need her to focus on me, and if you’re with me she’ll be trying to recruit you again instead of paying me any attention. In fact, that’s almost certainly the boon she’ll ask for in return for helping with my mother. I won’t have it. I just need someone who can watch my back in deep Winter, because they won’t recognize me as one of their own. An escort, preferably in good standing with them, but I’ll take an unknown.” “Someone who can take care of you in the depths of Winter…” There was an obvious answer, but Ada dismissed it out of hand. Rick had been through enough trouble for her sake. Dragging him into another mess would’ve just been cruel. He was the right choice, but also the wrong one at the same time. He’s not a tool, she thought. He deserves better than that. Elbridge was out, too obvious. That just left the unknowns… “I might have a couple people I can send your way,” she said, after a moment. “Would you prefer my champion or my spook?” “You have a champion?” Ruby raised an eyebrow playfully. “I’d prefer them, I think. No need for someone who sneaks around. Being big and visible is kind of the point.” “I’ll set you two up so you can get acquainted with each other, then,” Ada said, nodding firmly. “Her name’s Grace. You’ll like her, I think. She’s got a lot of guts.” “Perfect. Now that’s enough scheming for one day,” she tickled Ada’s side, hard. “However long we have left… it’s just for us.” “Pfffft, hahahaha, stop, stop!” she cried out, unable to contain her laughter. “That’s cheating!” She squirmed and wiggled, but in spite of her best efforts, she couldn’t shake Ruby off. The only way out of this, she realized in that moment, was to seize the initiative. So, diving forward, she slipped between Ruby’s arms and came up, aching for air, inches away from her face. “No more…cheating…” she gasped, and then, she leaned forward, pressing her lips against Ruby’s. Ruby…I don’t know where we’re going. I don’t know how long we have left…but I’m gonna make the most of it. Whatever happens now…I’m so happy to have met you.
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May 31, 2022 18:17
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Cold Call Scene: El’s Apartment Elbridge took a deep breath and contemplated the soothing aroma of his morning tea, trying to shut out both the nagging temptation of cheap vodka and the noise of a woodpecker that had decided eight in the morning was a lovely time to drill for insects in the sweetgum outside his window. This was an unwelcome development, but not unmanageable. Later, he would have a conversation with Ada about boundaries, as her mother had suggested, and in any event he soon would have more subordinates who answered to him and only him. This was only a setback. It could be resolved through words. Calmness. Serenity. The woodpecker drilled into the tree again. Elbridge snapped his fingers. Blessed silence. Then a loud scream from outside as a hapless passer-by found what was left of the bird. The headache the scream brought on was more than just an average withdrawal-migraine. Something seemed to have shattered in his perception, all of a sudden. It was as though his third eye was blearily blinking awake, unbidden. Also, a high-pitched white noise similar to the one from the alley was ringing in his ears and harmonizing, (if it could be called that,) with his phone, which had also started to ring again. (Elbridge takes a compel on In Vino, Veritas to have a withdrawal-induced migraine-slash-vision at a really inconvenient time.) He didn’t have time to wet a towel with hot water. One more annoyance to the list. Elbridge fumbled to answer the phone and wound up knocking the receiver to the floor instead. He wasn’t quite seeing double - perhaps single-and-a-half. Cursing, he lowered himself to the floor, struggling not to heave at the sudden change in posture, and grabbed the receiver before the caller could hang up. “Miss Wagner, this isn’t the best time to - “ “Is this Warden-Commander Hardley?” asked a male voice that Elbridge did not recognize. “...Speaking,” Elbridge said. He didn’t yet scrape himself off the floor; not when the initial descent had been so much of a bother. Besides, it was refreshingly-cool down there. “May I ask who’s calling?” His voice was soft and barely audible. He was afraid that if he spoke any louder, more than just words would come out. “Wizard Osei, of the White Council,” he said stiffly, as though he didn’t use the title often. His accent was West African, if Elbridge placed it right. “Warden Cole was my apprentice.” The surprise was just a hair too much for Elbridge, and he retched an acrid puddle of grits and sausage across his floor. It was no longer comfortable down there. “Wizard…Osei? Yes…I recall now,” he rasped once the heaving had abated. He wasn’t sure what to say beyond that. Some empty platitude? A reassurance that Rick had died for a good cause? Let slip that Rick hadn’t quite died properly at all? “It was a terrible loss.” Empty platitude it was. Perhaps he could manage something more heartfelt once the room stopped spinning and his ears stopped ringing. “Indeed it was.” Wizard Osei said, after a thoughtful pause. “Are you alright? If this isn’t a good time…” “As good a time as any,” Elbridge said. “The rest of my schedule has hit an…unavoidable delay.” He rolled over, away from the vomit. “You wished to speak?” “Yes… it’s about Rick. He contacted me a few days ago in a dream pocket while I was taking an afternoon nap. I… admit that I had my doubts that he was who he said he was, but he called me by Name and then explained his circumstances. He said that you could confirm that he was telling the truth. It doesn’t sound like he told you that I might be calling, though.” “An excellent soldier—” Laura’s voice, distant and muffled, and he could half-see a woman with Asian features, standing near the kitchen sink, sipping from a coffee mug she held in both hands. She had a rifle slung over one shoulder and cold, distant eyes. “---trouble with civilian life. Has a history of—” “Wizard Osei,” Elbridge said, warily eying the apparition of Meiko Blackburn (and he knew, as soon as he saw her, that this was Meiko Blackburn, although he’d never seen her before in his life), “is this a private conversation?” “As far as I’m aware, yes,” he answered. He didn’t sound like he’d thought it was something to worry about. “Good, that’s…” Elbridge waved, and his staff flew into hand, and soon he was something approximating ‘upright’. He lurched unsteadily in the direction of the apartment’s kitchen. “I don’t want this to reflect poorly on anyone,” he said to Blackburn. “I assure you, on technical merit alone, you’re head and shoulders above anyone else who replied.” “Commander,” Meiko said, setting the empty mug in the sink. She glared at him with obvious disapproval. “You should have let me take the shot. Now he’s in the wind.” “Is this a private conversation?” Wizard Osei interrupted, concerned and slightly confused. “What’s going on?” This was one of those moments, Elbridge realised; those moments that were, for him, two moments. Look for context, look for clues. The calendar on the wall was open to 2012 October. The first twenty-four days had been crossed out. 25 October was the day that Kwame had called. Meiko Blackburn would not be in town for some time. “A distraction, sorry - too many plates spinning at once. Yes, that was indeed Rick.” “Is he… well?” It was a simple question but there were an infinite number of layers to it. “I’m sure you’re aware that what’s happened to him never ends happily. It’s not just the trauma of dying I’m concerned about, but the dysphoria of a foreign body, and an inanimate one at that… I admit that he seemed stable, but we only spoke for an hour. I have… questions.” “That makes three of us,” Elbridge sighed, screwing his eyes shut to block out the vision. It didn’t help; if anything, it made it worse. This part of him didn’t need eyes to see. “We’re discreetly pursuing answers, but those seem in short supply, and with our other duties…” He didn’t mean the Council for Rick, not anymore, but Rick clearly took his mission for Claudia as seriously as he had Warden business. More seriously, even. “I’m sure you’re very busy,” said Osei. “But this isn’t something that can wait. Has he been acting as you remember him, or are there differences that seem… off? Distractibility, violent outbursts, anger, confusion, paranoia… anything like that?” “Not to an extent that would differ from anyone who’d seen that sort of combat,” Elbridge said. “I daresay you’ve just described fully half of the Wardens just now.” Alcohol was out. Darkness was out. That left either pills or a hot water bottle, and on Elbridge’s budget one tried the hot water first. Elbridge opened his eyes again, making for the sink. Meiko was gone, and for a moment Elbridge had a chance to hope that would be the end of it, but then he heard another voice behind him, still female, much younger. “Commander! I’ve finished plotting the positions of all the statues on the map.” “Excellent work, Plant.” This time, Elbridge remembered to cover the receiver. It was only courteous. “I’ll let my agent in the field know at once.” He quirked his lip a bit. “She may or may not begin at once, but that’s a matter of… goodness, what a disorganised mess they’ve made of this. Trying to limit their exposure, I suppose.” Plant beamed at him. Blonde and willowy, she looked, to Elbridge’s eyes, much too young to be wearing the cloak that was quite literally too large for her shoulders. It must have been a hand-me-down. “Really? Thanks! I stayed up all night working on it… Um, so, about F-2… Are you sure that’s the first spot? I mean, if you did a reading-” “-DEN HARDLEY,” Osei’s voice suddenly registered louder than Plant’s, breaking Elbridge’s concentration. Plant vanished and her detailed map of Lake Cataouatche vanished with her. “Apologies! Apologies!” Elbridge forgot the hot water entirely in his haste to grab pencil and paper, cradling the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he jotted down the locations he’d seen marked in red. He had the exact map on hand and knew its dimensions, so notation was a simple matter of listing the grid coordinates. “Might you repeat that? I’ve no excuses, I’ve simply made a mess…” He felt something warm and sticky on the bottom of his foot and looked down. ‘Mess’ was the appropriate word, alright. And now he had to clean that as well. (Elbridge chooses to focus on the vision over Kwame to glean useful details, and rolls Notice versus Difficulty 4! //+- +5 = 5, a clean success! For certain values of ‘clean’  )Osei sighed audibly. “I said that was exactly my point. Ric’s soul is bound to his Warden’s sword. That will affect him, and not for the better. He has become a weapon- in every sense of the word- and the soul is a malleable thing. It will adjust to match the new vessel. My question was if those traits and behaviors had increased, or if he had lost control over them in ways he didn’t when he was alive. I’ve not seen him in years, only someone who’s had close contact with him recently would know. I hoped you could tell me, but-” “He has noticed a change,” Elbridge said resignedly. “His words, not mine. The difficulty lies in disentangling that change from what any veteran might experience. So far, I cannot tell the difference. So far,” he restated for emphasis. “So the answer is yes, but you are not sure if that is simply due to normal PTSD,” Kwame stated coolly. He wasn’t doing a good job of hiding his frustration with the conversation. Mate, I’m not sure if YOU’RE real, a hallucination, or a premonition, Elbridge kept himself from saying, barely. “Is he well? Of bloody course not. Who would be?” he said instead, more than a little snappish. “But he’s getting by, and working on his problems. If you want to help him then help him.” “I’m trying to find out what he needs help with-” “To think Medusa ended up with it after all that, and no one else knew except him,” said a new voice. Elbridge spotted a heavyset black man sitting on his sofa, smiling and shaking his head. He too wore the cloak, though it was a little threadbare in places as if it had seen years of long use. “I guess someone had to find all of those caches the Reds left behind, right Hardley? Lucky that you figured it out. But then, there’s nothing lucky about divination is there? It almost makes me jealous. Almost.” He laughed, and it was warm and friendly. “If you only knew…” Elbridge muttered under his breath. “What?” Kwame asked. “What?” Emmanuel Vincent echoed. Elbridge opened the top drawer of his desk and carefully retrieved his golden pocketwatch. It had been his father’s, and his father’s father’s, and it had value beyond just its composition or craftsmanship. He opened the casing and looked at the timepiece. The dials indicated that it was just past eight in the morning, while the tiny inset flip display told him that it was still 25 October, 2012. El’s talk with Warden Vincent would come on its own time. Kwame’s call was occurring now. Elbridge cleared his throat and spoke into the receiver. “Wizard Osei. To be blunt, it sounds as if you know as much as I do about soul vessels, if not more. I am trying to understand Rick’s condition and do what I can to help him, but we are in uncharted territory and there are multiple other ongoing emergencies that demand my attention. I’m sorry, but if you want to know more, or how best you can help, the best thing you could do would be to come here.” “Yes, you’re right of course,” Osei said, sounding defeated. “I’m sorry, I have… It’s just been a shock, finding out he’s not… gone. I’m still surprised that Ric trusts you so much given how closely he’s flirting with the Fifth Law.” “I didn’t give up on him when he was bitten,” Elbridge said sternly. “I’m not giving up on him now.” The headache’s intensity increased suddenly, as if it were angry with him for ignoring what it’d been presenting. “-a shame about the election, though. If we’d only found him six months ago you might have-” “Mayor Goldman’s been on the news two more times, I’ve got the recordings you asked for-” “Commander, I’m going after him with or without your say so-” Vincent, Plant, and Blackburn were suddenly all talking at once, all existing at once, and not at all, and one at a time. And then there was only darkness, and the incessant whispers of things to come.
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May 31, 2022 18:24
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Look Forth Scene: James' Apartment (Milestone Note: James spends a skill point and focuses Will.) James sat crossed legged in his living room upon a yoga mat, the morning light bathing the room in a warm glow. Between a good night's sleep, the meal with Mickey and his bikers and a fight against something he knew needed dealing with, he was feeling like himself again - and that meant he had to get back to work. After all, Frisk wasn't going to wake up and save himself. But he was still stumped on how to manage it, short of letting Mitra and her swamp mafia friends launch an assault on the Carnivale - and that sounded like a total disaster for everyone involved, frankly. Which left him with but a single card to play - one he didn't relish trying. After all, of the strange powers that had lurked within him, nudging his life from one fluke to another - those he suspected were thanks to him being the seventh son of a seventh son - the most troublesome had been his precognition. Each vision was a harrowing experience, like some sort of bad trip, and in his attempts to try and deflect events from what he'd seen, he'd lost someone he truly had loved. Worse still, he'd never had any measure of control over them. But that had to change, for the sake of the city - if he had to make them obey him by sheer force of will, he'd do just that. He took a deep breath and looked down at the campaign badge resting in his hand before closing his eyes. He didn't have any training on this - none of the books he'd been able to read at the Library on divination had anything close to a guide or blueprint on how to actually use it - but what he did have was determination and stubbornness. He drew upon his magic, meagre though it was, exactly as though he were getting ready to try and read an object's aura, but rather than focusing the growing tingling sensation of power at his fingertips at something outside him, he drew it inward and-
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May 31, 2022 18:30
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Locked Room Mystery Scene: Hydrangea Place After a quick scramble to shove any gear he might need into a sports bag, James dashed out of his condo. He’d already tried Elbridge’s phone numbers without any luck - the warden’s landline was giving a busy signal, while his cell had gone straight to voicemail. Hurrying down the stairs, he tried to think who might have a key to the warden’s apartment - Marcine, maybe, but she was supposedly out of town, which left… Nicky. Feet crunching on the gravel as he reached the ground, he dialed the wizard’s store. “Stitch in Time, commissions, alterations. and adjustm-” James interrupted the wizard before he could finish, “No time, Nicky. It’s James, I think the Warden’s in trouble. Do you have a key for his place?” “Oh, hello James,” said Nicky. “I don’t, no. I can’t imagine he’s ever had a spare key made, actually. What kind of trouble?” “drat,” said James as he slung his sports back into the back seat of his car and climbed in, “And it’s the ominous vision kind of trouble. Not sure if it’s one of mine, or some sort of sympathetic feedback from one of his. In that case, then, I need a Wizard to help me break into his place, and you’re the only candidate.” “Break in… to Elbridge Hardley’s apartment? Are you daft? He’s got that thing more heavily booby-trapped than that child in Home Alone, and I wouldn’t put it past him to make some of them lethal.” “I figured as much. But that’s why I called you, because right now, I’m worried and scrambling to get a hold of anyone close enough to help,” replied James as he pulled out of his parking spot, “But you’re a Wizard, right? You can do this, man.” There was a short pause and then a long sigh. “...very well, I’ll get my tools. He’s not going to appreciate having to redo his wards, though. I hope he’s alright.” “It’s alright, if it turns out to be a waste of time, you can blame me,” replied James, “Can you ask Cole, see if he’ll come along and help? Oh, and do you need a ride there?” “If it’s not out of the way, and of course I’ll bring Richter but he’s er… sleeping. I don’t think he’d mind us borrowing the sword if it’s for Elbridge, though.” “You know him better than I do, so if you think he’ll be OK with it,” James replied, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” — Twenty minutes later, the three of them had piled into James’s hatchback and made their way to the carport outside of Hydrangea Place. Nicky was in the back seat, Rick’s scabbard over his shoulder and an electrician’s utility belt slung at his side. The contents of his kit were eclectic and varied, few of them having much to do with electrical work. At least the magical locksmithing tools weren’t too obvious as such, or that might have raised some uncomfortable questions. James could feel the strangeness in the atmosphere even before he turned the corner into the carport itself. It wasn’t just the early Halloween decorations - reflections stirred in windows that didn’t quite match their owners, and a murder of exactly thirteen crows had gathered in the sweetgum outside the building’s north wall. They were pointedly ignoring an obvious bit of carrion on the sidewalk below them, which looked as if someone had taken some other poor bird and turned it inside-out like a glove. A glove full of meat and bones. When James strained, he could almost pick up snatches of whispered conversation at the edge of his hearing. He pulled in alongside a van with ‘Duke and Denver Air Conditioning - Don’t Take The Heat!’ stencil-painted on its side. A young white man in an orange reflective vest was putting a ticket under its windshield wiper, while an older black man that Nicky recognized as the building superintendent looked on. “You here for maintenance too?” the super asked, eyeing Nicky’s toolbelt. “W-who, me?” Nicky stammered. “Um, uh, I was going to help my friend with his… faucet? It’s… dripping?” “Uh-huh.” The superintendent nodded. “Can I get a name or a unit number for this friend?” “Mister Hardley in 333,” Nicky said, straightening somewhat. He pointed at the Duke and Denver-mobile. “Has the air gone out too?” “Had some complaints. Tenant called ‘em in.” The super shook his head and motioned to the meter man. “You see them, you let them know I ain’t validating their parking ‘til they show me the trouble ticket.” “Or don’t!” the meter man said chipperly. “No skin off my nose,” the superintendent said with a shrug. “You said you’re here for the gentleman in three thirty-three? Ain’t my business, but I know the man likes his privacy.” “Believe us, we know,” replied James as he stepped out from behind his car (where he’d been busy dumping what change he could muster from inside his car into the meter), “But, y’know, he’s a friend, and he wanted a hand doing some DIY, so here we are, eh?” “I’d have to call up to buzz you - hold up a minute.” The man beetled his brow, looking James up and down. “Weren’t you the gentleman who came to see him last week? Somethin’ about antiques?” “Yeah, that’s me,” replied James with a smile, “Old Man Hardley’s an old family friend. Sometimes I buy stuff off him, sometimes I just help him out. Just trying to do the kind thing, y’know? Not sure you’ll get through by calling him, though - might be too busy hammering away at something to hear the phone.” The superintendent just glared at him, leaning in to take a deep whiff of James’ shirt. When he didn’t detect what he was sniffing for he stepped back, folding his arms. “I’ll let you in,” he said. “Let Mr. Hardley know that any damage is comin’ outta his security deposit.” When the meter man looked away, the superintendent mouthed you better not be dealing at James before departing with one final side-eye at the new arrivals. “Cheers man, will do,” replied James, unphased, with a cheerful smile on his face - he’d been compared to a lot worse than some common criminal before. And that was just the comparisons he’d intended for people to make, too. Nicky blinked owlishly, not having the slightest idea what was going on and not really wanting to, as long as the superintendent was kindly getting out of their way. By the time they were done with things, he had a bad feeling the security deposit would be the least of their troubles. --- Inside, there was something wrong with the air conditioning. It was fitful, straining, loud and obnoxious before falling silent again, and then the cycle would repeat. The superintendent’s warning against drug-related business rang a little hollow when they passed one of the AC guys on the stairwell, a surly teen in dirty coveralls who stank like an entire dispensary had caught fire. Hastily, he swallowed the roach as they went by, coughing and sputtering as he made his way back down to the utility room. Up on the third floor, something was very wrong. It wasn’t anything they could see, nor hear, nor smell (not over the skunk-odor of weed), but there was an electric tension in the air, like they’d walked into a generator room. James and Nicky’s hair stood on end as they approached El’s door, and the vibes were enough to give Rick some phantom sensation. It felt as if El was working on some serious magic, or else as if some serious magic was working on El. “You getting those weird sensations too?” asked James, glancing at Nicky, “Between that weird vision I had, the omens outside and whatever this is, I think we can assume something untoward is going on, at any rate.” Nicky gulped. “It’s a lot worse than I expected,” he muttered. “Whatever’s gone wrong… and make no mistake something has gone horribly wrong here… But Hardley wouldn’t experiment at home like this, so I don’t understand…” “So we either have some external entity - probably with some serious magical mojo - causing this, or Elbridge was desperate enough to cause it himself,” mused James, “So if anything menacing jumps out, let me handle it. Or distract it while you run.” Glancing around, he added, “Given that the HVAC is out - probably because it got hexed - we can assume it’s mortal magic, right?” Nicky gave the overhead vent a suspicious glance. “It’d be my first guess,” he said. “Take Rick, if you would? I couldn’t use him well if I wanted to, and I’ll need both hands for the wards on the door.” James nodded and took the offered case, “Not exactly the kind of sword I’ve trained with, but I should be able to manage.” “The silver’s enchanted to counter magic,” Nicky explained. “So if we happen to trigger any traps, say, that launch large balls of fire at our heads, I would like you to parry them for us. It should work, even if you’re not particularly magical… I think.” “Well, at least you get to be on the front line to field test how well a minor talent like me can use one, eh?” replied James, giving Nicky an encouraging smile, “Now, then - we should be safe until we reach his door, right? Too much chance of his neighbours triggering any wards before then.” “Should be,” Nicky said. “But this aura isn’t coming from the door. It’s coming from whatever’s behind it.” “Let’s handle the door first. After all, for all we know, Elbridge could have just discovered Jerry Springer and reached a new level of disdain for humanity,” James replied, though he didn’t sound like he believed in his own joke very much. Clutching the sword case in one hand, he started walking down the corridor, towards El’s doorway. Nicky was right. The aura wasn’t coming from the door. The door had its own aura. After James knocked with no response, he glanced back at Nicky. “Had to check. You’re the wizard here, if I try and open it, will it blow up or something?” “Not if you don’t try to force it, probably. Let me get my goggles…” With a nod, James drew Cole’s silver sword (and added the sword case to his sports bag). Holding it ready to parry with, he reached out and turned the door knob - he was pretty sure Elbridge wasn’t the sort to just leave his front door unlocked, but you never knew. The sense of unease and dread intensified. There was nothing specific James could place about it, but he felt like the guy in a horror movie about to go chasing after a strange sound into the darkness. (James, Will: +-++ +4 = +6 vs Diff 6 - Succeeds at the cost of marking 2nd Mental. James, Mental: OXO.) He turned the knob as hard as he could, but apart from a bad case of nerves, he didn’t get much to show for it. The door was indeed quite locked. “Let’s… not do that again,” mumbled James, shuddering. “I think the surface level wards are designed to scare people off. I bet he doesn’t get many people knocking and asking for his vote, that’s for sure.” “You’d be surprised, those sorts of discouragement only work on people who have a sense of self-preservation to begin with,” Nicky said, looking over at James while wearing a set of goggles that enlarged his pupils to comic proportions. He had a large tuning fork in one hand and something resembling a level in the other. “There’s no way that a go-away spell is the only thing here…” (Nicky rolls Lore: (Wards) to identify the wards on the door: -+// +5 = 5!) The wards layered on the door were astonishing in their intricacy. The filaments of power formed a dazzlingly-complex web of spellwork that must have taken Elbridge weeks, if not months to construct. It wouldn’t have surprised Nicky if Warden Hardley had done just that, spending an hour every day shoring them up. There was no one line to cut either; each element had to be dispelled independently of the others. Alarms and snares and stinging chemical hazards and failsafes - the whole arrangement reminded Nicky of the interior of a really high-end safe, the sort that took a specialized cracker on the team. “Oh for the love of…” Nicky tapped a few lines here and there with his tuning fork, testing for weaknesses, but of course there were none. Hardley had done a masterful job making sure absolutely no one could break into his apartment, no matter what their reasons. “James, I hate to say this but trying to take this apart one thread at a time isn’t going to work at all. It’d be like trying to cut elevator cable with tweezers, using any of my tools, and severing any one trap is only going to trigger the others.” “That… sounds like Elbridge, honestly,” replied James, “Well, you did your best. Can you at least point out where I need to slice to cut through them all with the sword? Maybe even cast some sort of spell to muffle any noises?” “Here…” Nicky pulled a sharpie out of his belt and drew a connect-the-dots on the door in the shape of a Z, then drew a line back up from the end point to the start, making two triangles. “All left hand slices, in that exact order across each of those points. And go fast, or we’ll both end up covered in blue ink and pepper spray. I’ll veil sounds.” He held up two fingers and twisted them in a particular way, and suddenly James couldn’t hear a thing. With a nod, James adjusted his sports bag and gripped the sword tightly, studying the pattern for a long silent moment. Taking one last deep breath, he sliced at the door. With four clean strokes, the silver sword sliced along the door’s surface. One. A jet of chemical irritant, cut short by the stroke. Two. A cloud of blue dye, the kind that banks used to mark robbers who weren’t too careful in checking their score. Three. James couldn’t hear the vibrations, but he could feel them shivering up the blade, and the window shook in unnatural silence for a split second before the spell was broken. Four. An acrid smell of burning synthetic fiber, a binding circle searing itself into the carpet beneath his feet, nearly completed before his swordstroke broke the edge. Energy welled from the ruined traps, a wash of raw magical power that threatened to overwhelm them all. His only choice was to cut through it as well; he’d seen Wizard Cantor’s shields in action. Five. One final cut split the wave of hazardous energies. The flock of crows outside gave a raucous cry and took flight; the ceiling lamps crackled and blew out; the building’s HVAC roared to deafening intensity before falling silent. He’d done it. He’d cut through all of that fancy spellwork like a real Warden, and weathered the backlash. (James is compelled upon “Venatori’s Loose Cannon” to swing harder than he needs to with the warden sword. FP:3->4.) He’d also sheared clean through the deadbolt behind the door. No longer held shut, it swung wide, revealing the interior of Elbridge’s apartment, and the Warden himself, splayed out across the floor in a puddle of something foul-smelling. He seemed as oblivious to the intrusion as he was to the stench, or to the phone dangling off its hook by his head. He was curled into a foetal position, eyes wide, mumbling dazedly and incoherently. As they moved in, a gleam caught the corner of James’s eye. The remains of the deadbolt were glowing. Not the cherry-red of overheated metal, but an eldritch, otherworldly blue. Engraved into the core of the bolt, visible in its cross-section, was one final magical circle. Intact, it had been incomplete and inert. Broken, magic could reach the exposed interior, activating and arming the trap. The runes flared up to a blinding brilliance, bathing the hall in ethereal light. When it faded, they weren’t in the building anymore.
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May 31, 2022 18:31
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Dare You Enter? Scene: An Otherworldly Gaol They were somewhere cold and dark, somewhere with stone walls and floor where every sound echoed into the distance and the only light was cast by a pair of emerald-green torches set in iron sconces. The room - the antechamber - they were in was roughly eight feet wide and ten feet high, terminating in the torchlit wall. The flames shed no heat, and there was no exit to be seen in front or in back. "Damnit, El," grumbled James as he looked around, swiftly adding a second, "Damnit." “He wasn’t… dead, was he?” Nicky asked, coughing. His ears were still ringing from having his silence spell fizzled. “Does anyone else smell burned toast?” Rick asked, from his place sitting on the floor. "He looked like poo poo, but he was moving a little," replied James, "Not sure if he'd been attacked or it was just withdrawal, though." “Withdrawal? From what?” Nicky asked. “Morning, Richter.” “Morning, Nicholas,” Rick said automatically. He blinked a few times and cradled the side of his head in one hand. “Can someone tell me where we are and why I feel like I just lost a fight with an electric fence?” "Alcohol withdrawal," James explained, "And, ah, we're in what seems to be Elbridge's personal dungeon. Long story short - bad visions and omens, we tried to break in to make sure he's alright, and, well… he's not alright and we're stuck in here." “Well that’s completely irresponsible of him,” Nicky complained. “Every seer self-medicates somehow, you can’t just stop doing it willy-nilly.” "Geez, thanks," replied James with a frown, "Nice to know I'm doomed to a life of substance abuse." “I don’t make the rules!” Nicky snapped. “Tried to break in… to El’s apartment?” Rick staggered slightly as he stood up, recognizing the familiar green of Elbridge’s witchlight in the sconces. Nicky caught him before he tipped over and both of them stared at each other for a moment as they realized he was solid. “Great. We’re not in Kansas anymore, are we?” “The 6th century decor didn’t give it away?” Nicky asked seriously. “Valid point.” "So he… what, concealed a portal trap inside his deadbolt?" guessed James, "Man takes paranoia to a whole new level. And I bet he left some sort of ward here, so we can't just portal back again?" “It’s Elbridge,” said Rick, at the same time as Nicky said: “It’s Hardley.” "In that case, I think we should assume this place has some sort of exit," said James, "And so we need to make like a merry band of adventurers and swiftly conquer the place." “You’re not wrong,” Rick said. “If this is the kind of Nevernever pocket that I think it is, then there’s always a way out. Start looking for… well, anything weird. Torches that are secretly levers, floor tiles sticking up, bricks that press in, that kinda thing. Basically whoever made the place got out somehow and we’ve just got to find their bolthole.” (Rick uses Lore: The Ways: /–+ +4 = 3, for a CA: “There’s always a way out!”) “I did not sign up for this,” Nicky said, poking the wall gingerly with one finger. “No, I didn’t sign up for this, but here we are so we’ll just have to make the best of it,” said Rick, walking up to the pair of torches and giving them both a good tug. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't sign up for it either," replied James as he started methodically searching the walls, starting with the section right behind them, "we can reserve blame for either Elbridge or whatever entity hands out cryptic visions." (James, Notice: //+- +4 = +4. Uses the boost from "Way Out" to uncover "Wrong Acoustics" and "Green-hued Stone".) “I dreamt that my old teacher was trying to tell me to check in on him,” Rick mentioned, starting to walk the floor one tile at a time. “Not really sure how he knew El was in trouble, maybe I just made the whole thing up because you two swordnapped me and I was already over there.” “The phone was off the hook,” Nicky pointed out. “Hmm,” said Rick. “Yeah, I did tell him to call...” "Is it me, or do the acoustics sound off in here?" asked James, still checking the walls, "It's like there's more of an echo than there ought to be for such a box of a room. And the stone's got a weird green shade to it, too." Moving over to the wall with the sconces, James started to focus his search there, "Is there any chance you can change what color these are, Nicky?" “I can try,” Nicky said, pointing at one of the torches. He muttered something under his breath but his hand motion was much more intricate and ended with a twist of his wrist. Rick had noticed Nicky’s muttering was always nonsense syllables and he was actually casting in sign language after living with him for a while, but he usually tried to conceal it from people he didn’t know well. The stress of being trapped in a doorless room must have been getting to him because he was accenting his hand motions much more than usual. The green torch flickered, then dimmed, then shifted in hue. It went from green to yellow, yellow to red, red to pink. Nicky gave a feeble grin of satisfaction. Then he sneezed. The torch strobed in a kaleidoscopic psychedelica of every colour under the rainbow and then some before finally settling on a nauseatingly-garish magenta. Worse, it clashed with the green in such a way that the room’s interior looked almost gore-soaked, as if Sam Raimi had just upended a bucket of practical effects over them all. It did make it easier to spot the three stones that weren’t quite flush with the rest of the wall. But still. “Nice job, Nicholas!” Rick said, squinting at the sudden magenta assault. “What do you think for the order, James?” "Not sure," replied James as he blinked away the after images from Nicky's impromptu disco. Walking over to the nearest odd brick, he motioned for quiet and then pressed it. It played a low, fluting sound, which seemed to come from one wall without any suspicious bricks. The next one played a note a quarter-octave higher, and the last a full octave higher than the first. After the last was played, they heard a faint grinding, and six more bricks shifted slightly. “...do we just go up the scale?” Rick muttered. It seemed too easy, somehow. “Maybe we need to play out a tune or something?” mused James with a shrug, “You know if there’s any songs El might use for something like that?” “Let me think for a minute…” Rick couldn’t remember any offhand. Marcine would know, if she were here, he thought. But she wasn’t, so he’d have to do. Wait… hadn’t she played something for Elbridge, back in the alternate future, after the petrification curse had taken hold? How’d it go… He hummed a few bars to himself, trying to remember. “Check the upscale and downscales, if those don’t work I might have something.” The upscale didn’t produce any results and neither did the downscale, but when they played the first few bars of The Black-Leg Miner that changed. The only wall without musical bricks began to recede, one row at a time, lowering as it slid back so that brick by brick, the wall became a paved walkway. A stone bridge, without any apparent support, suspended over an endless black void. Only the stones anchoring the torch sconces didn’t descend, moving instead to flank a set of likewise-unmoored wooden double doors. And then Elbridge’s voice spoke out. “Well,” the disembodied voice said, “that’s quite a particular tune you’ve chosen. It marks you as a close, personal acquaintance of mine. If you’re a friend, I’m sorry for the confusion. The doors in front of you will lead you back to the hallway outside, and I’ll come to disengage the lockdown at my earliest opportunity. Next time, please use the apartment key I’ve loaned you instead of trying to force entry.” “If, on the other hand, you’re an old enemy or otherworldly horror coming here with ill-intent, well… you can either take the same exit and cut your losses on this particular attempt…” More torches lit up along the same invisible ‘wall’ as the door with the bridge, flanking other, identical sets of doors. “...or you can provide valuable testing for the rest of my security measures.” “Thank heavens, we can finally leave,” Nicky said, starting to walk towards the double-doors that El’s voice had first marked as the exit. “Wait,” Rick said, grabbing him by the shoulder. “The hallway outside isn’t going to get us into the apartment. It’s just letting us out where we came in.” Nicky spread his hands. “So what? We can try to get around it another way, then. You’re not actually suggesting we take the door for otherworldly horrors and such, in some mad attempt to beat the Warden-Commander at his own game, are you?” Rick turned to James, frowning. “How bad did he look?” "Bad," replied James, looking out at the bridge over the void, "Enough that we can’t just yell at him to get up and disarm the portal, at any rate." “...let me think for a minute,” Rick said, for the second time. He’d been pushing the mental image of El laying on the floor of his apartment in desperate need of help out of his mind for as long as he could, and it was starting to force its way through. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone though, and neither would rash decision-making. James and Nicky were both out of their depths with this one. You’re the one who knows how pocket dimensions work. They’ll follow your lead. “Alright,” he said finally. “There’s… a few things that could be going on here. The most likely scenario is that this place is anchored to the inside and the outside of the apartment. Which means there’ll be another exit that leads inside, probably beyond the other doors. All the other alternatives would be one and done’s. He’d have to rebuild the whole thing from scratch every time something set this thing off, and I just don’t see Elbridge putting so much effort into a rat trap he can’t reset.” “How ‘probably’ is probably?” Nicky asked nervously. Rick shrugged. “It’s either that or he’s punted the whole apartment into the Nevernever. Which would make it easier, not harder, for the otherworldly horrors to get in and out. …and also cause most of the building to collapse in on itself. So we can rule that one out with a peek outside.” He turned around and gave the ominous second set of doors a level look. “If you guys he’s in that much trouble, I’m willing to risk it.” “You’re the expert here,” replied James, “If you think there’s a way through the dungeon, then I’ll give it a go.” Rick smiled. Having someone else along who was willing to jump into the unknown meant a lot to him. “Thanks, James.” “Don’t mention it,” replied James with a grin, “Besides, I brought most of my monster hunting kit along. No ten foot poles, but other than that, I should be fine.” “I’ll just check outside first, then, shall I?” Nicky said, grabbing the knob on the ‘safe’ door and pulling it open. To his credit, he did actually peek out instead of making a run for it, which he would have rather liked to do, given the circumstances. It opened into the hallway, just as Elbridge’s recording had said. When he looked around the corner, Nicky could see that the double doors had actually replaced the single apartment door; the pre-medieval portal had merged seamlessly into the wall, although it was still jarringly-incongruous with the other apartments. It seemed that any attempt to enter Room 333 from the outside would now lead into the extra-dimensional gaol. “Wonderful,” Nicky huffed. He gazed longingly at the threadbare carpeting, the popcorn stucco and the insect-filled fluorescent light on the ceiling, and then shut the door on the real world and thunked his head against the wood. “Well we’re not getting in from out there,” he said after a moment. “So I suppose we haven’t any choice, have we?” "I know you're not used to this kind of thing, Nicky, but I'm sure you'll manage just fine," replied James, "Just think of Bilbo Baggins - he didn't want to head off on an adventure either, but without him, the Dwarves would have never retaken the Mountain." “Does that make Hardley Smaug?” Nicky asked, somewhat miserably. James shrugged and smiled, "Maybe. Ask him if he knows a fire breathing spell when you next see him." Rick thought about telling Nicky that there was always a choice, but last night’s argument was still fresh in his mind. “After what happened with the team… Losing even one more friend is inconceivable,” he’d said. El might have been gruff about it, but he’d spent a lot of time trying to help Nicky, and Nicky might complain, but he valued that time immensely. Which meant there wasn’t a choice for him. “El’s not big on fire, generally,” he said, keeping his thoughts to himself. “And don’t worry, James, Nicholas has been on bigger adventures than this. He’s from the bad future.” “It was a different future, thank you very much,” Nicky grumbled. He faced the danger-doors with his hands on his hips, straightening up for once. “Let’s get on with it then.” "Right you are, Nicky," James replied, offering Cole the silver sword, "Here, you're probably better with this than me. Plus I brought my own." “You’re a swordsman, too?” Rick asked, taking the blade and resting it on one shoulder. “We have got to hang out more.” James nodded as he retrieved his own sheathed sword from his sports bag. "Amongst other ways of fighting, yeah. Comes in handy when a demon wants to eat your face, believe me." “Oh, believe me, I know,” Rick said wistfully. “AHEM,” Nicky said, yanking both doors open.
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May 31, 2022 18:41
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An Ounce of Logic Scene: An Actual Block Puzzle The area beyond the next set of doors was pitch-black, although not for lack of lighting. An archway of cobalt-blue stone stood before them, clearly-visible in the empty expanse. Perhaps the rest of the area simply hadn’t been sculpted yet? In any event, the obvious exit was there before them. Rick glanced from Nicky to James, shrugged, and walked over to the archway. The moment he tried to pass through it, it shattered into fragments of masonry - five discrete pieces - which all flew away from each other with some haste. Elbridge’s green witchlight illuminated the chamber as it took shape around them, the floor grinding apart like they were caught in an earthquake. Rick was on the central square of a three-by-three grid of monolithic blocks, each engraved with a magical circle. When the circles activated, sheets of colorless fire ignited, separating the squares of the grid like a moat. The flames shed no warmth, but Rick could feel the waves of energy rolling off of them pushing at him gently. There were narrow gaps in the firewalls on the cardinal faces of each square. The archway fragments drifted through these, spreading out as if to play keep-away. (Rick has found the PUZZLE! There are five fragments of the archway, currently at the east, west, southeast, southwest, and north squares. Each square is one Zone for movement purposes, and the fragments don’t seem inclined to let you reassemble them that easily. Rick is currently on the central square while Nicky and James are on the south.) “Well that’s new,” Rick said, standing still. “What do we do now?” Nicky called. “Put it back together, I think,” Rick answered him. “Without touching the fire,” he added quickly, in case that wasn’t obvious. He’d seen tests of patience or intelligence in these places before. This one, he was sure, was meant to frustrate anyone or anything that had gotten ahold of that song through unsavory methods. Being able to steal something didn’t mean you were good at puzzles, and if a monster started stomping around in here trying to brute force the archway back together he had a feeling it wouldn’t end well for them. It reminded him strongly of one of Marcine’s video games. There would be a simple solution, probably, once he understood how the mechanism worked. One Elbridge knew by memory. He carefully jumped to the north tile, through the gap, to see what would happen. (Rick uses his Pathfinding skill to leap to the north tile! -++= +5 = 5, vs a 4, success!) The fragment floating in the air over the tile, the section containing the keystone, quivered at his approach but didn’t retreat to another square. It looked as if the fragments’ first priority was to keep away from each other to avoid reassembly, and it couldn’t evade Rick without getting closer to another piece. “Gotch-” Rick said as he grabbed hold of the stone piece with both hands, but the rest of his words cut off abruptly. “------?” he tried to say. He frowned. “------? ----.” Ok, no talking then, he thought, pulling the piece back towards the center. When he returned, the walls of fire closed around him briefly. When they opened again, the pieces to the west and east were no longer visible. Evidently, the spellwork was sophisticated enough to enforce a sort of ‘turn order’. James had kept quiet while the other two had been discussing the puzzle presented before them - mostly because they were the experts, after all… but he hadn’t been in the Nevernever much, and he couldn’t help gawking at the surrealness of it all, at least for a moment. Those heatless flame moats were some freaky stuff. But, weird fire-moats or not, he had a job to do - taking Rick’s lead, he glanced over to the nearest floating stone fragment, and, after a run up, leapt over the moat. Unfortunately for him, all the practice in the world didn’t entirely prepare you for something as weird as this - his intended landing was fouled by the smooth stone, and while he managed to tumble forwards into a roll, his shoulder hit the ground harder than intended, right where he’d been bitten by a snake only a few days previous. A grimace upon his face, James stood, reaching up to grab the stone before it flew off. (James, Athletics: /-/- +5 = +3. Succeeds at the cost of losing a physical stress box. XOOO.) This one wasn’t as cooperative as the piece that Rick had grabbed. It thrashed and struggled in his grip, fighting him like a thing alive. It was strong enough to actually move him about the platform, and perhaps even off of it if he didn’t keep himself firmly-anchored. (The gimmick of the SW piece - the red one on Mistaya’s diagram - appears to be forced movement. Attempting to move with it in hand turns the regular Difficulty 3 check into an opposed roll; failure means that the piece chooses the direction of movement rather than its bearer.) Nicky had been looking down into the gap between the blocks, his pallor was not helped any by the green light above them. “A-all right, here goes,” he muttered, backing up a few paces… But before he could even get to the edge he faltered and staggered to a stop. It was too big of a gap and the thought of falling into nothing, forever, which is what it looked like would happen if he missed… It was too much. “Why don’t I just stay right here?” he called out. “I’ll er, I’ll try to hold the pieces if you can send them to me. Or maybe this would work?” He reached for a length of copper colored cord coiled around one of his belt loops. James seemed to be struggling more with his block than Rick was so he went to the left edge. “Here, James. Catch!” (Nicky attempts to throw James a rope, Athletics +--- +2 = 0, vs a diff 2… welp.) His throw fell miserably-short and the rope plummeted into the chasm of silver energy below. Falling, falling, falling…gone. “Oh dear,” Nicky said, and that’s when he heard something whistling above him. On pure instinct he threw himself backwards, as the rope landed, coiling neatly, right where he’d been standing a moment ago. “Oh dear,” he repeated, looking up into the darkness. (Nicky rolls Athletics again to dodge his own mistake and… ++/+ +2 = 5! He does not get beaned by his own rope. Good job Nicky!) Rick had been watching all of that, and was still facepalming over it. Still, it was information, even if he wasn’t sure how to apply it quite yet. And it meant that falling off the blocks wouldn’t be fatal at least. Nice of El to include a safety railing in his security trap. He couldn’t see James on the southwest corner and he didn’t like that much so he waved frantically to get Nicky’s attention and then shoved his piece south. It hadn’t put up any fight when he pulled it, so maybe it’d just go where he pushed it? The piece kept going, gliding frictionlessly across the gap toward Nicky. And past Nicky. And away from Nicky. It appeared that Nicky was not the best at reading frantic, flailing gestures, but there was still time if he moved now. (Rick rolls Physique to punt a piece across the gap to Nicky: //+/ +3 = 4, success at a cost. Nicky must use his next action to snag the piece or it gets away from him.) More akin to a struggling animal than a floating piece of rock, James was forced to hold on tight, planting his feet firmly as he wrestled the resisting masonry against his chest. With a defiant grunt, he attempted to force it back - but his feet found no purchase upon the smooth stone floor, and instead, he found himself soaring through the air, further away from his comrades. (James, Athletics: -/+- +5 = +4 vs Rock: ++/+ +5 = +8. Rock wins.) “The one I had silences whoever’s touching it,” Rick called out. “What’s that one do?” he asked James, who had suddenly rocketed into view to the west, holding another piece. “Puts up one hell of a fight!” yelled James as he scrambled to try and control the ferocious piece of stone. “I’m gonna loop north and try to push one down into yours,” Rick said to James. “Hold tight, Nicholas, if you can get that one to the west that’d be great but if not just stay put okay?” Nicky had finally caught up to the piece Rick had sent his way and was busily tying his rope around it. When he was done he gave a thumbs up, as he was now unable to speak audibly. “Okay, here goes again then…” Rick bounced on his heels for a moment and then took a running jump to the north tile, kept his momentum up and made another leap to the northwest. The piece there quivered but didn’t move. Based on what he’d seen so far, it wouldn’t unless one of the other pieces moved first. They adjusted to each other, not the people trying to move them. (Rick rolls Pathfinding twice, getting a 6 each time to beat the 4 required cleanly.) As he touched it, the entire world went dark. It was a shock, and he let go immediately, blinking in the wan green light. “Great, this one blinding,” he yelled. “What do you want to bet that if we put these together they gain each other’s attributes?” “Seems pretty likely!” James called back. “Great…” He walked to the edge of the block and checked how many strides it was between that and the piece. One… two… three… and then jump. If I just push it James won’t have any help putting them together, so I’d better go with. “Get ready, I’m coming over with it. Try to keep that one still, I won’t be able to see anything so if you need help then talk it out or grab me.” He lined himself up with the block, then charged. Darkness closed in around him as soon as he touched the brick. One. Two. Three strides and… jump! (Rick rolls his Pathfinding to get across the gap with the block: /-// +5 = 4! But the difficulty is raised to six by GM FP on the stone’s “Blindness” aspect, and he has to invoke Corporal Cole, Taking Point to keep the tie. Rick FP: 6 > 5. GM reserve 3+6 > 2+6.)
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May 31, 2022 18:42
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Corner Pieces First Scene: An Actual Block Puzzle In the long, dark, weeks of learning to acclimate to being a sword, sight had been the last of the senses that had returned to Rick (of the ones that had returned at all.) Even without seeing though, he could hear his steps echoing on the stone, and more importantly, feel the hum of magical energy as he got closer to the colorless fire. It was enough to judge his initial jump off perfectly… but he had no way at all of knowing where he’d land. He skidded into place alongside James, who was still struggling with his own fragment. Rick couldn’t see him, but he could hear his grunts of exertion, as well as feel when James bumped into him with an elbow or a knee. As soon as both of their pieces were within the circle, the runes on the tile began to glow. The curtain of colorless fire drew shut on all sides. “Looks like we’re stuck on this platform,” grunted James, “Probably until we force these two blocks back together.” “Do we have to fit them like puzzle pieces?” Rick asked. “I can’t see, you’ll have to do it.” “Gotta say, helping build walls on the family farm back home didn’t prepare me for this bit of masonry,” mused James as he hooked one arm around the struggling block, his muscles straining as he grabbed the other one off Cole. Pulling both into a bear hug, he slammed them both together - with a loud clunk as they bashed against one another, the two chunks fused into one, the seam briefly pulsing with witchlight as they did. (James, Physique: /-// +5 = +4 vs the Rock: —/ +5 = +2. James wins.) “Gonna need you to aim me towards Nicky,” he said, keeping a tight grip on the now-larger struggling stone, “Can’t see anymore.” “No, leave it,” Rick said, rubbing his eyes. “We’ve got to get the other leg together anyways and it’d be better to bring everything else to this one, instead of trying to blind jump with it while it’s fighting us every step.” There was a risk it would come apart again, of course, but he didn’t think it would, after all that fuss resealing itself back together. “There’s one all the way across from us, can you get that one and I’ll get the other one that went north somewhere? Push them both mid and maybe we can get Nicky to join us there.” “Probably the smarter way to run this,” replied James as he cautiously let go of the struggling stone. And, though he’d been ready to grab it again if it made a break for it, the stone was content to just float there, at least for the moment. With a sigh of relief, he said, “Right, then.” Nicky, having yet to hear himself called for, was busily tying the silence stone up in a fairly complex web of knots that wouldn’t allow it any sort of escape, and then tying that to himself. (Nicky uses his crafting skills to secure the south piece “Nice and Tight!” -++- +5 = 5, CA succeeds.) “Alright,” Rick sighed, he was getting a little tired with all this running around. “Let’s go get the other two then.” He went to hop the gap back to the middle block but for the first time misjudged it. Maybe the block shifted a little, maybe it was just one jump too many for the unfamiliar, heavy body he was in. Whatever the reason, he dropped straight into the hole with a loud yelp and disappeared from sight. (Rick gets a 3 on his Pathfinding, vs a 4 diff, and decides to let it stand.) Fortunately, James had already seen what happened when something fell off the edge, thanks to Nicky’s lackluster throwing arm. Staring up, he yelled out, “You alright, Cole?” Rick appeared directly over his head right on cue, and much closer than poor James had expected. In a moment he’d landed right on top of him, knocking both of them over into a tangle of limbs. “...watch that first step,” Rick said, after a long groan. He didn’t try to get up right away. (James tries to catch Rick, at a difficulty 6, and rolls a 3 on his Physique.) Though he'd tried to catch Cole, James just wasn't fast enough, and now he found himself lying beneath someone that felt rather heavy, by ghost standards. "Ow," he grumbled under his breath, "Glad Grace wasn't here to see that." “No kidding,” Rick agreed, finally having enough of his wits together to slide off James’ back. “Go ahead, I need a second…” James dragged himself back to his feet, eyeing up the next piece of stone in the distance. Running toward the edge of the platform, he tried to leap the gap - but fell short, uttering a loud "Damnit!" as he fell into the flames. (James tries to jump the pit… and gets a 3 on his Athletics vs a 4. Oops.) “Well… I did warn him,” Rick said absently. He staggered upright and, having a sudden thought, drew his sword. The instant James appeared he threw it up to him. “Catch!” he yelled. While James wasn't entirely sure how a sword would help him land, he still grabbed the hilt out of sheer reflex - which was just as well, because his momentum was suddenly stalled as the sword gradually lowered him onto solid ground. "Cheers for the save," he said to Cole with a grin. (Rick uses Gladiokinesis to cushion James’ fall and gets a 7 vs. the difficulty 6!) “No problem,” Rick responded cheekily. “Too bad Grace wasn’t here to see that,” James laughed, "Too true. A trick like that might even be enough to earn someone a real name in her contacts." “drat, and here I am without a phone number,” Rick shook his head sadly. “Okay, once more, hopefully NOT falling into the breach?” "That sounds like a better plan," replied James, offering the sword back, "Starting to wish I'd trained for the long jump more when I was younger." Rick took it and slapped it back on his hip, where it’d been floating, sheathless, since they’d entered the pocket dimension. Sometimes you just had to make do, (and that’s how it always worked in Marcine’s video games anyways.) He took a second to stretch, wondering if part of the problem was the length of time he’d been holding the ecto-body together. It seemed to get harder to use the longer he wore it. Like the malleable goo it was made of was slowly solidifying. Nothing he could do about it right now though. “If you plan to get around in the Nevernever, long jump’s a good one to practice,” he said after he stood up again. “So’s short jump, sprinting, swimming, long distance running, hiking, rock climbing…” He counted all of these off on his fingers. "Still kinda new to this whole Nevernever business," James replied, "but every time I walk through a portal, it seems to be one hell of an experience." “Yeah, it’s great, isn’t it?” Rick said, without a hint of irony. James nodded in agreement, "It's certainly the more wondrous side of the whole knowing about magic business." Nicky was rolling his eyes back on the south platform, but sadly no one else noticed. Rick lined himself up to jump again, but he could feel the sluggishness in his fake body increasing with each step and knew almost immediately that he wasn’t going to make the gap. “drat it,” he cursed under his breath. Even here, it seemed, he only had a limited amount of solid time. Only one thing to do then. He took a last facsimile of a breath and grabbed his sword by the hilt. When he got to the edge, instead of jumping, he threw it, and let go of the ectoplasm. The sword skittered onto the middle tile, and his spirit snapped to it. (Rick goes back to Pathfinding to move to the center tile… and gets a 2. Spending a FP on Cpl. Cole takes point gets him a… 3. He’ll take a major cost- ditching the ecto-suit, to succeed. FP 5 >4) It wasn’t every day you saw someone throw a sword and then melt into a puddle of goo, that was for sure - and even though James was reasonably certain he could guess what had happened… it was still a pretty weird sight to behold - one of those odd things that you knew you should probably look away from, but you couldn’t quite tear your eyes away from regardless. But eventually, James managed to overcome his own curiosity and stop gawking, glancing over to where Cole, now looking rather translucent, was lying next to his sword. “Uh…” he asked, “That was one of your ghost tricks and not something this place did, right?” Rick sat up, feeling much lighter, and overall, more like himself again. “Yeah, that was all me. Ectoplasm kept getting in the way. Sorry for the wicked witch of the west show over there, though. Should’ve warned you.” He was doing his best not to look at the deflated puddle of ex-Rick, and blushing furiously, though hopefully the fire and the translucence was concealing that at least. Without waiting around for a reply he threw the sword to the north platform and blinked off after it. (Gladiokinesis to move now that Rick’s unburdened by the weight of a physical body: -++/ +5 = 6!) After taking a few steps off to the side to avoid the puddle, James took a brief moment to loosen up before running toward the edge, waiting until the last second before he leapt forwards - and, thankfully, his feet hit solid stone this time, so he kept his momentum going, sprinting across the center stone square before making another leap to land, with a few inches to square, on the platform with the next stone. (James, Athletics: +//+ +5 = +7 & /+/+ +5 = +7, to finally beat the botspite and jump some platforms.) He approached the stone carefully, arms ready to reach out and grab the thing if it tried to fly away from him - but it seemed content to simply hover there, so after a patient moment, he just grabbed it. It felt warm to the touch, but a strange kind of heat, that seemed to emanate from the core of the chunk of stone, and it soon started to grow hotter and hotter, until he had to let go, lest his hand burn. “Gotta play hot potato with this one!” he called out. drat, I should’ve taken that one then. Tch. But it was too late to swap now. “Then this one’s probably the deafening one!” Rick called. They were out of each others’ line of sight, which made things tricky. “Take it mid if you can, I’ll meet you there! We’ll put these two together then go south and meet up with Nicholas!” “Gonna have to make this a bit of a sprint, haul it back before it burns me!” James yelled back, eying the stone warily, “So pass that other one over quick, eh?” “Alright… I’ll count down from five. Jump on ‘go’, okay? Remember I won’t be able to hear anything.” It was only sort of true, since he wasn’t planning on holding onto the piece, but better safe than sorry. His translucent hands had gone straight through it, of course, so he only had his sword to ‘touch’ with now. “Five!” he yelled, taking a batter’s stance. “Four!” The piece was awkwardly placed, and rotating slightly as it floated. “Three!” Could he even get it to line up with the gap? “Two!” Yeah, he could, he was pretty sure. His invisible hands tightened on the leather grip. “One!” There. If he hit it right there- “GO!” (Rick rolls his Swordfighting skill to home run bat the piece. /-+/ +7 = 7, beating the 6 diff to send it mid.) (James, Athletics: +-++ +5 = +7 beats diff 3 & Physique, +//- +5 = +5, beats diff 3.) With all the grace and athleticism of a professional quarterback, James carried the piece from tile to tile, intercepting the one batted over by Rick in the process and forcing the two little nuisances together. Ironically, he hadn’t played football or baseball before, but there wasn’t much applicability for ice hockey experience here. Now there was only Nicky’s piece, and the conjoined pair on the west tile (which drifted northwest to keep its distance from the others). The end was in sight, but the final assembly would certainly be a task. Once he’d slammed the two stones together, James let go, leaving them to hang in the moment, so that his hands had a chance to cool off. “Whew,” he remarked, relieved, before calling over to the waiting wizard to the south, “Alright, Nicky, gimme a second for this thing to cool down so I can hold it again, then bring yours over here!” Nicky stared at him, then at the brick, then at the GAP, then at him again. He nodded, pale as James had ever seen him. Then he closed his eyes, grabbed onto the piece very tightly, and ran towards the edge. When he got there, instead of jumping, he just… clung to the ropes he’d tied around the piece, like a drowning man clinging to flotsam. (Nicky goes for mid! /+// +2 = 3 on his movement roll, and he’ll tag “Nice and Tight!” to hold on VERY HARD to his piece as it floats over the gap.) Against all logic and reason, it carried him, slowly and steadily while he clung for dear life. Luckily for the others, the silencing spell on the piece was still in effect, although the movement of his lips (or lack thereof) said it all. Even so, it couldn’t have been healthy to scream for so long uninterrupted. James held off grabbing the stone until the last possible moment - and even so, he was still forced to hold the thing for an uncomfortably long period as Nicky drifted over. Once the wizard finally landed, James waved him over, ready to force the stones together. Nicky sloooowly extended one toe until he could feel solid ground again and then fell off, landing right on his butt. His arm came up, offering James the end of the rope holding his piece. Nestling the one he was already holding against him, James grabbed the rope and - somewhat awkwardly, given he was forced to do it one handed - reeled it in before slamming it against the larger chunk of stone, fusing them together. (James, Physique: //// +5 = +5 vs diff 4) “One more!” Rick called. “Go west square, I’ll send the other one your way!” Luckily, James had let go of the stone - it was getting uncomfortably hot again - just in time to hear Cole's plan. "Got it, but I'm going to be deaf and mute, so we'll just have to do things by sight!" he yelled back. “Have Nicky interpret if you need to,” Rick called. “You alright, Nicholas?” “Fine, let’s just get this over with please?” Nicky said, standing up and dusting himself off. “I’m going to give Hardley a piece of my mind over all this,” he grumbled, low enough that only James could hear. “There’s not enough cuppa in the world.” "I dare say there'll be a queue for people who want words with him, after we make sure he's alright," replied James, "but just think about it, Nicky, you're helping conquer a dungeon to save someone. That's some real heroism, right there." “The someone who made the dungeon,” Nicky said, crossing his arms. “It’s alright for you and Richter, you’ve got that unhealthy adventuring mentality.” "Don't sell yourself short, man," replied James, flashing Nicky an encouraging smile, "Besides, I'm sure there's someone out there you'd like to impress with your tales of heroic exploits, eh?" Before Nicky had a chance to answer, James snatched up the stone and sprinted for the edge - with the weight of the three combined stones, he was forced to delay until the very last second, all but throwing himself across the gap. It was close, the heatless flames licking at his heels, but he just about landed it. (James, Physique: ///- +5 = 4, invokes on "Venatori's Loose Cannon" (FP: 4->3) to succeed & Athletics: +//+ +5 = +7, succeeds and SwS for the boost, "All That Time In The Gym Paid Off".) Rick had tossed his sword over to the northwest and snapped to it again. A bit disorienting still but he was starting to get the hang of it. The double piece loomed at him, and he remembered James saying it was the one that had fought him before. He couldn’t give it a chance to do the same thing this time. He lined himself up again, gripping the sword like a baseball bat. No callouts this time, just waiting and watching for James to appear in his line of sight. As soon as he did, Rick swung hard. (Jumping to NW platform: Gladiokinesis result of 8! SWS! Taking “In My Element” as a boost, and then spending it immediately on Swordfighting, -/-+ +7 = 6, to get an 8 on knocking the double piece to James. The piece resists at +4: /+/- +4 = 4. Rick succeeds with style!) He landed a solid hit, and the piece flew straight across the gap at James. It was fortunate that James was watching for it, because without the benefit of his hearing, if he hadn’t expected it, the piece would have beaned him squarely upside the head. Reaching out, he grabbed the soaring stone and slammed it against the other piece, before it had a chance to really resist. (James, Physique: /+/- +5 = +5, use the boost from "All That Time In The Gym Paid Off" for a +2 for a clean success. The instant the portions were joined, the fires flared bright one final time and then receded. When they disappeared, so too had the gaps between platforms, replaced with solid flooring of the same hue as the vanished flames. The base of the archway on the central tile emitted a warm, comforting glow, unlike the eerie green that had lit their way to this point. All that remained was to set the arch in its place. When they did, the warm glow engulfed them briefly. Through the archway, they could see another room. The Way was open. (Success! You have CLEARED THE PUZZLE ROOM! As a parting gift the archway puts a spell on all three of you, granting you the aspect “Certified Dungeon-Crawlers”!)
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May 31, 2022 20:44
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Door Prize Scene: An Otherworldly Gaol On the other side of the passage was what could only be a prison. Here the greenish ‘stone’ of the Nevernever substrate had been sculpted into bars, cells, and cages, each inscribed with spells of binding and sealing. Some were built of bricks, others were deep pits or wells dug into the floor, and still more were suspended from the ceiling by iron chains. Real iron, at that. It reminded Rick of nothing so much as the interior of that special mirror in Ada’s basement. It was nowhere near as expansive and most of the cells were empty, but Elbridge had clearly been hard at work with this little home improvement project of his. “It gets worse?” Nicky asked, holding his arms tight to his chest so he didn’t inadvertently touch anything. “No, this is great,” Rick said, stretching his neck to peer down one of the deeper-looking holes. “He definitely wouldn’t put this much work into something he had to remake every time. It means there has to be an exit. HAS to.” "Makes sense, but…" replied James, tapping his knuckles against an iron bar on one of the cell walls, "Unless he intends to use prisoners somehow, a room like this doesn't make sense as part of a layered defense, right? Or maybe we're supposed to think exactly that?" “The last one would have defeated anything without the capability to reason,” Rick said. He kept his hands tucked behind his back, following Nicky’s example. Elbridge had seen what happened to Hugues with the mirror, and if he’d been taking notes... “This one might be a spirit-trap,” he admitted, grimacing. “Ada’s family has one protecting their house. Anything nasty that tries to crawl in through a mirror gets sucked into a jail just like this one and… well, that’s where it stays.” “Those are very handy,” Nicky said. “Self-powering too, once you have enough creatures trapped inside. The prison basically runs by siphoning energy off them. Never made one myself, but the theory is fascinating. This one must be new though, seeing as it’s empty...” At that exact instant, an enormous, winged thing with a spade-shaped head and eyes like yellow searchlights slammed into the bars of the cage nearest Nicky. It was gangly and coated with tufts of black, velvety fuzz, and its every motion shed glittering scales from its wings. It lashed out through the bars with its proboscis, probing, sampling, tasting. “Aieeeeeee!” Nicky jumped back at roughly the same time James intervened to pull him away from the thing, other hand on the hilt of the sword he had poking out the top of his sports bag. "Keep your distance from that one, man. Mothman, old pest the native american shamans could never quite be rid of. Probably came after El and got locked away for its trouble." “Bellworth had to clean out a whole nest of them down at the Grand Cross leyline,” Rick said, stepping a little nearer than the others just to see if the creature could perceive him or not. “First time I’ve seen one up close.” Its proboscis unspooled in Rick’s direction as well. This close, he could see that the appendage was bruised and blunted, and the stones engraved with the warding bore marks like they’d been struck with a chisel. It must have been hungry enough to try eating its own cage, although it couldn’t actually drain the wards of their magic. Not from that side of the bars, at least. “Eugh,” Rick said, backing off a step. “I wonder how he got it in here, if it wasn’t through the deadbolt trigger.” “D-Does it matter?” Nicky stammered. “We’ve got to keep moving, it’s not a zoo.” "Not a normal one, at any rate," replied James with a shrug, "But you're right, less gawking, more walking." “H-hello?” A voice called out from deeper into the gaol. “Is someone else there? Please, if you’re there, help!” "Who's asking?" James called back as he started walking deeper into the prison, toward the voice. “I’m Earl!” the voice shouted back. “Earl Denver! Duke & Denver A/C! I was workin’ on the central unit, fed a fiber-optic line through and I saw this weird symbol in the duct - next thing I know, I’m in…oh Jesus, I don’t fuckin’ know! Please, just get me outta this awful place!” "I mean, if it's some creature's ruse, I gotta give it points for creativity," said James quietly, "so, you two know Elbridge better than I do. What're the odds he left some trap that accidentally caught the AC guy?" “That was the name on the truck outside,” Nicky said nervously. “The one that got ticketed for being parked too long…” Rick facepalmed. Goddamnit, El. “There is a very good chance he’s telling the truth. But… it might be a better idea to leave him here until we can get him directly outside, unless someone feels like escorting him all the way back to the exit door.” He turned back to check that the portal was even still open behind them, which to his great relief it was. James glanced at Nicky as he quickly said, "We can't spare anyone, not at the moment. Still, we should check on him, make sure he's not in danger?" Nicky looked put out, but nodded. “Yes, we ought to do that at least.” “He’s going to freak out if he sees me,” Rick said tiredly. “Alright, let’s go check.” Earl’s shouting served to guide them through the maze of cells, and if Rick’s intuition about the Ways was right, they had to have been nearly at the entry point to El’s apartment. En route, they passed a few more cages with occupants - an old-timey birdcage with a sulking imp that glowered as they went by, a glowing brazier where several salamander hatchlings scampered and cavorted, and a deep hole where something very large and very hairy with quite a few limbs and eyes retreated deeper. At the end was a padlocked kennel with something very angry-sounding thrashing inside. Next to it, in a magic circle of enchanted ice, was Earl. He was a middle-aged man with curly, shoulder-length black hair. Standing, he must have been a good 6’4” and quite strong, but he wasn’t standing and he looked like hell. His skin was starting to go mottled blue, and his eyes were bloodshot. He was wearing the same uniform as the callow teen they’d passed smoking a joint in the stairwell. His nametag said “Hi, My Name Is: EARL” “Please…” he said, breath misting from the cold. Once they turned the corner, James' pace had quickened until he reached the edge of the circle. Looking on in concern, he said, "How'd you end up in there, man? Gotta keep talking while we work out how to free you." Nicky stuck to James’ side, when they reached the ice circle he knelt down near it to very carefully examine it. Rick hung back, trying to keep one of the hanging cages between himself and Earl. Something about this is off. “You try just walking out of there yet, buddy? That snow wall isn’t very high.” “I-I don’t know…holy poo poo, you’re a ghost!” Earl exclaimed, pointing at Rick in amazement. Rick sighed and stepped out into full view. “Yep. Got it in one. C’mon, stop playing in the snow fort and we’ll get you home.” “I tried, there’s some kinda, I dunno, force-field! Like Star Trek!” Earl shook his head frantically. “It wasn’t even there when I got here, I just - I was lookin’ for a way out, and I pushed on a spot that felt like it might give, and boom! Winter fuckin’ wonderland! And I don’t wanna stay here but there’s things out there, man! If this sci-fi bullshit can keep me in, maybe it’ll keep them out?” Nervous, he looked over at the kennel, which rattled ominously as if it could sense his eyes upon it. “...I hope?” “It’s a fairly basic containment ward,” Nicky said, touching the ice with one hand. “Mr. Denver, if you wouldn’t mind kicking the er, the everloving crap out of this snow wall, it’ll let you out. Assuming you are, in fact, an ordinary human, and not something pretending to be one.” (Nicky rolls his Lore: Wards, ++++ +4 = and 8! He’s pretty sure he knows how this one works!) "Give it a few good kicks to get a crack or two going, then I can help from this side, too," added James. “I…alright, if you think that’ll work,” Earl said with a gulp. He stood up with a veritable chorus of pops from his creaking joints, stretching his stiff legs tenderly. “Okay…a-one, and a-two, and -” An earsplitting yowl came from the padlocked kennel, a high-pitched caterwaul mixed with hellish overtones that left their ears (and Rick’s sword) ringing. It came with a blast of frigid cold, leaving a thin coat of hoarfrost across the floor and sending snowflakes tumbling through the air. Earl slipped with a yelp and his foot collided with the innermost ring of ice blocks, sending it skidding out of place; the rest of the ward collapsed with a sound like shattering glass. Hurriedly, he crawled out of the ‘snow fort’, dragging a twisted ankle. The wards on the kennel flickered once, then made a noise like a vacuum cleaner. They sucked in the cold air both inside the cage and out, growing brighter as they siphoned power from both the magic and its wielder. An instant later, the ‘snow fort’ ward made another brittle, cracking sound and reconstituted itself with the drained power. “See? J-just like I said,” Nicky said, trying to sound confident, as the kennel ward did its job. “Are you all right, Mr. Denver?” “F-fine,” Earl stammered. “I’m fine, I’m…” He looked back at his left foot, which was now facing not quite the wrong way but quite a bit past the right one. “Oh, that don’t look none too good.” "Might need a doc for that one, man," James said as he stepped closer, offering his shoulder for Earl to lean on. While James handled the civilian casualty, Rick snuck up to the kennel door and peered inside. The hell is making all this noise? Something from Winter? “Thanks, man, that’s mighty kinda you,” Earl said, taking James up on his offer. Rick couldn’t see too well inside. He caught a glimpse of a pair of feline eyes glaring back at him, but other than that he couldn’t discern many details. It was as if the beast inside lacked any distinct form or outline, simply bleeding into the shadows of its cage. (Rick tries to identify the cat-thing, rolls a miserable 0 on his lore, and decides it is a cat-thing. But there’s been some notice rolls going on in the meantime… All three of James, Nicky, and Rick failed the first check, but Rick gets one more chance. Notice //++ +5 = 7! Beating the difficulty of 5. Rick further spends a FP on Seeker of Clarity to get the SWS, which gives him the benefit of noticing something just in time… FP: 4->3) “W-wait,” Nicky said, looking at the ice block Earl had kicked loose. “This isn’t right!” Rick pulled back. Earl’s hand on James’ shoulder was cold, too cold, even for a man who’d been sitting in a ring of ice. “The ward - it was disrupted first -” Strong, too. Stronger than any man ought to be, even a man as big as Earl. “But ‘stead of a doctor, I think you’re what -” And when Rick pulled back, he could see the room reflected in his sword. He could see himself, and Nicky, and James. But not Earl.
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May 31, 2022 20:46
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Cage Match - Round 1 Rick saw his own eyes go flat in his reflection. El wouldn’t put human-traps in the ducts. Should've just done a drat blood test. But that didn’t matter anymore. Earl had his hands on James, and there wasn’t time to do anything except act. There was no sound as he turned, no sound as his spirit blinked out of sight and all that was left was three feet of silver streaking through the air like a guided missile, slamming into Not-Earl’s body and then wrenching back out again. (Rick catches Earl in the act and moves to strike first. Swordfighting: ++// +7 = 9: weapon 2. Earl defends with Athletics, ///- +4 = 3! Spends a GMFP on his Aspect “Tactically-Trained Semi-Professional” to reduce that from 8 shifts of stress to 6, and lets his “Undead Resilience” stunt (Armor 2) drop it further to 4 shifts. Rick counter-invokes on “Soul in a Sword” to raise it to 6 again. Earl marks his fourth box and takes a Mild Consequence: “Only A Flesh Wound”. Rick FP 3->2, GM FP 2+6->1+6. Puck passes to James.) Earl’s body was still dense and (for want of a better word) juicy, but the savage cut drew only a mild splatter of blood, the rest of which was plainly no longer circulating within him. “Oh, come on!” he complained, as if he’d just been slapped especially hard and not partially-disemboweled. “I told you that they wouldn’t be fooled,” rumbled the creature in the cage. Its voice was surprisingly-high and feminine, but still carried an unmistakably-bestial timbre. “Some Son of Drakul you are.” Cole's blow might not have been enough to cause serious harm - but it gave James the distraction he needed to slip free of the momentarily distracted vampire's grip and twist away. Even as he did, his mind was considering his options - he'd only ever faced one of the Black Court once, at Mateusz's side, but it had been demonstration enough at how deadly the creature's could be, if you weren't smart about how you fought them. Which was why James had kept a surprise prepared in his kit for just an occasion such as this. He pulled the small red cylinder out of his bag and aimed the portable fire extinguisher's nozzle at the vampire - were it any other foe, he might have offered it some sort of quip, but not one like this. He squeezed the handle and doused the creature with a high pressure spray of holy water. (James uses his Countermeasures stunt to place the aspect "Today's Forecast: Holy Water Showers" on the vampire and counteract his armour.) Earl tried to muster up some sort of badass retort, but all that came out was unholy shrieking mixed with spasmodic contortions as his skin started to smoke like overdone barbeque. "You picked the wrong people to mess with," said James as he drew his pistol and fired a pair of shots, straight into the vampire's chest. (James, Combat: //// +5+1 = +6 & W:2 vs Earl: /+++ +4 = +7. James uses the free tag from "Only a Flesh Wound" for a +2. Earl uses a GMFP on "Newly-Turned Black Court Vamp" to counter (GM FP 1+6->0+6). James invokes on "Venatori's Loose Cannon" to counter the counter. (FP: 3->2) and take out Earl's third box. Puck to Earl.) The first shot punched through Earl, but the second passed cleanly through him as he dissipated into mist and reconstituted himself a few meters away, slumped against the kennel. “Ghost swords…holy water…portal traps in the goddamned air vents,” he rasped. “Fuckin’ wizards.” “Do not perish yet, insipid vampire,” the creature in the box rumbled, blowing another draft of cold air through the bars. “We had a deal!” “Oh, yeah, lemme get right to that!” Earl snapped sarcastically, ducking behind the box for cover. “Ain’t got no other pressin’ matters!” “Release me, and I will help you to fight them as well.” “...well poo poo, why didn’t you start with that?” He reached around the front and wrenched off the padlock with a sharp tug, along with a goodly portion of the kennel door. “Wait. You didn’t-” Rick popped back into view, just as the door was ripped open, “-really fall in through the air vent on accident did you?” He was, he realized, much more upset about that possibility than the whatever-it-was joining the fray. “What?! No!” Earl shouted back. “I wasn’t gonna try a fuckin’ wizard’s front door! I came in smart-like, turned into mist and went through the ventilation!” He sounded genuinely proud of his cunning approach. “How was I supposed to know the Warden was some kinda paranoid lunatic?!” That little exchange told Rick a few things. One, Earl had no idea what a threshold was if he was trying to mist-mode through the vents into a private home, which meant he was fresh. Two, his sire was still around somewhere, and had either sent him after Elbridge or complained enough about him that Earl’d taken the initiative. The first would actually be better because it meant his sire was an idiot. Either way though, the Black Court was never a small problem. They were like cockroaches. If you saw one, then there was an infestation somewhere. Great, just what we need right now… Between the darkness of the cells and the distracting banter, James didn’t see the creature leave the kennel. He didn’t even feel it until a few seconds later, when he felt something warm and wet spreading on his left calf and glanced down to see the four parallel slashes in his pant leg, blooming a sticky red. (The Malk (we all know what this is) attacks James! Combat ///- +6 = 5 vs James’ defense of +-// +5 = 5, a tie. Malk Invokes her Aspect of “The Hannibal Lecter of Cats” to make it a clean success, inflicting 4 stress and activating its Shadow Cat and Pack Hunter Stunts. Malk gains the Aspect “Concealed”, which doesn’t give it a free Invoke but has another interaction with its Shadow Cat megastunt, and the next attack against James benefits from a Boost. GM FP 0+6->0+5, puck to Nicky.) Nicky was still kneeling on the floor next to the broken warding circle, blinking in a panic as the fight broke out all around him. He’d been convinced Mr. Denver was just an ordinary person. He’d thought Rick had lost his mind when he suddenly turned around and impaled the man, and then… Just like that… He was a vampire! Nicky gulped. The gravity of his mistake was paralyzing. If he just stayed still and quiet maybe no-one would notice him and surely Rick and James could handle this whole thing. But then Mr. Denver ripped the door off the rattling kennel and a cat made of shadows had poured out of it, and suddenly he realized he had better do something or- or- The vampire (why a vampire?! He’d never wanted to see one ever again!) was already in pretty bad shape. Was there anything he could do about the shadowcat? He reached for his toolbelt with trembling hands, found the small copper hourglass he used as a focus for some of his more delicate work. It wasn’t going to be easy but it was focused on James so… so maybe…? He brandished the pocket hourglass at the Malk and whispered a few syllables, making the hand-sign for SLOW DOWN as best he could while holding it. (Nicky casts some time magic as a CA! ++// +5 = 7! Vs a will roll from the Malk to resist: //– +4 = 2. SWS! Lands “Slow-motion” on the Malk. End of Round! Puck to James for a new round.)
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Jun 19, 2022 13:26
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Cage Match - Round 2 With a glance down at the clean slices along his leg, James growled, pushing back against the pain the faerie’s razor claws had inflicted. He’d be feeling the aftermath of this scrap for a while, that was for sure. After a quick glance around, he set his sights on the vampire - the Malk had retreated back into the shadows, and he couldn’t get a good shot on it - and aimed at center mass. Twice, he squeezed the trigger - and, much to his dismay, twice, he was rewarded by loud pings as the bullets hit the bars of the cage door that Earl was currently lurking behind. (James, Combat Attack: +//- +5+1 = +6 & W:2 vs Earl: /++- +4 = +5. Earl tags “Duck and Cover!” for +2 to dodge to avoid the attack. Puck to the Malk.) He felt a cold prickle down the nape of his neck, his only warning as the beast leapt from behind. Fortunately for James, thanks to Nicky’s handiwork, that was warning enough. He turned his head and saw her coming, jaguar-like fangs bared for the kill, aimed squarely at his throat. Even with that warning, James still had to rely on gravity to help him avoid the snarling Malk - he ducked down, crouching low enough that he had to steady himself with a hand on the ground - and not a moment too soon, as the faerie sailed but a few inches over the top of his head. (The Malk tries to finish what she started with James, rolling Combat to attack: //// +6 = 6, a perfectly average roll. She takes the Boost from Pack Hunter to bring it to an 8. James defends with Athletics ++-+ +5 = 7, and he takes the Boost on “Slow-Motion” to make it a 9. The Malk misses! Puck to Rick.) Rick wasn’t really sure what to do with Earl. Silver swords weren’t particularly effective against the Black Court, they just didn’t care about being sliced or stabbed the way normal, bleeding creatures did. Maybe if I cut off his head? But then the shadowcat shot by, and he noticed how badly James was being pressed. Time to change targets. The beast was wreathed in gloom, more a pair of eyes and a vague outline than flesh and blood. Time to see how much of that is glamour. He thrust towards her, straight into the mass of shadows that should have been where her body was… (Rick attacks with Swordfighting! -//- +7 =5. Shadows are hard to stab. But the Malk rolls even worse with her Stealth, - - - / +6 =3. Rick boops her on the nose and deactivates the spoopy shadow effect! Puck to Earl.) “Hoooooooowwwwwww darrrrrrrrrrrre youuuuuuuuuuuuu!” she hissed, still in slow motion as Rick cut away her umbral glamour, leaving behind an entirely ordinary-looking (if very large) black cat with a white spot on her chest. “Hey, friend,” Earl whispered, peering out from behind the kennel and fixing Nicky with his bloodshot eyes. “Nifty trick you got there.” Suddenly he was gone, and Nicky felt a looming presence behind him. “Maybe I’ll bring you back when we’re done here.” And he lunged for Nicky’s throat. Elbridge would have been proud of him. He didn’t curl up in a ball and shake at all. He cast a proper shield, which flickered to life right in front of him. …except the vampire was behind him, and he realized much too late that he had never learned how to cast one in another direction before. He tried to turn, but then everything was fire and pain as the vampire sank his teeth into his neck. “Aiiiiieeeeeee! Getoff getoff get ooooooffffff!!!” (Earl takes a bite out of Nicky! Physique //+/ +5 = 6! Nicky defends with a shield spell: /-/+ +3 = 3. Earl gets a SwS and downgrades Stress by one for the Boost, which we’ll call “Hair of the Dog”. He also triggers his “Vampiric Thirst” stunt, gaining one Blood Point. Puck to Nicky.) The shield was at the wrong angle, but held close enough that Earl bumped his forehead against the back of it while trying to take a bite, and that turned what would have been a lethal arterial rupture into ‘merely’ a very nasty, painful gash. “Ahhh…” he sighed, licking the blood off his lips. “Now that was just what I needed!” His own laceration from Rick started to close, and his movements were quicker now, more coordinated. His overall bearing was seeming less like a dead human, and more like a living beast. Nicky clapped his free hand over the wound, trembling like a leaf. This was exactly the kind of thing he’d been worried about when he’d agreed to come along on this adventure, and Bilbo Baggins had never been bitten by a Vampire, or bled all over his best shirt, or whatever the Malk was going to do to him as soon as it smelled that he was wounded. He should have just left, like he’d wanted to, and let the real heroes handle this ridiculous prison. But… dammit! He’d been practicing his combat magic with Hardley for months now! He should be able to help! Maybe he could try a fire spell? His fist clenched over the top of his little hourglass. No. His elementalism was horrid no matter how much he worked on it. But Hardley was wrong. Not every wizard needed to throw fireballs. “James!” he yelled, and then muttered another spell, this time doing the exact opposite of what he’d done to the Malk the first time. His friends were much better suited to doing the actual fighting, so the best way to win was to support them. (Nicky casts Haste as a CA on James! -/-/ +5 = 3, enough for a fragile “Hasted!” aspect.)
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Jun 19, 2022 13:30
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Cage Match - Round 3 For a brief moment, James felt as though he were in a movie - everything around him seemed to be going slower than it had been before Nicky’s yell. It gave him ample chance to right himself, turning to face the distressed wizard and the vampire currently preying upon him. He took a proper shooting stance - Nicky was in the way of any body shots, so a headshot would have to suffice, but with so much time to aim, James thought he could manage it. (James, Combat, Attack: -/-/ +5+1 = +4 & W:2 vs Earl: +/++ +4 = +7. James uses the tag from “Hasted!” to reroll: +/-+ +5+1 = +7! Ticks off Earl’s 2nd box. Puck to Earl.) Earl moved like lightning. James moved like greased lightning. The magnum bullet parted Earl’s hair and left a bloodless crease across his scalp. “Hm. Good trigger discipline,” Earl growled, running a finger through the groove. “Ex-mil?” “Something like that,” James spat back - already, he could feel everything returning to its normal speed, the spell’s effects lifting away. “Bet you don’t have it in you to fight me mano a mano and find out for sure, though.” “I’ll take that bet.” Earl roughly shoved Nicky aside and flew at James - literally flew, launched from a dead standstill into a forward lunge like he was suspended on wires. But instead of aiming for the throat like James had anticipated, he went overhead, grabbed one of the dangling iron chains, and fell on James with a pro wrestler’s elbow drop. The move had been unexpected - more like something out of a lucha libre show than any martial art James had studied - and Earl hit him hard, the former AC guy’s elbow slamming into his shoulder, forcing him to duck aside, off balance. (Earl attacks James, taking the Boost from “Hair of the Dog” for +2: /+/+ +6 = 8! James defends: /+/- +5 = 5. Earl gets another SwS, downgrading damage to 2 shifts and marking James’ second box in exchange for a new Boost: “The People’s Elbow”. Puck to Rick.) Nicky’s scream had very nearly drawn Rick off the shadowcat, but James had gone to his rescue and he knew if he took his eyes off the thing she’d just go back into stealth mode. “How’d you get stuck in here, puss?” he questioned. “I don’t think you’re as dumb as your partner, you’d know better than to try the Warden’s threshold.” “You’re right,” she said, her voice rising in pitch as she gradually rejoined normal time. “I’m not as dumb as that cretin of a vampire.” She sat back in what might have been a docile pose, but Rick could see the muscles quivering under her pelt. She was bracing for another pounce. “I don’t give valuable information away for free. You will need to earn it, through barter or blood.” Rick tensed along with her. If pit bulls could be cats, he thought. But he had a better idea of what he was fighting now. Fan of deals, fancy speech, arrogant as hell… Faerie or a demon, and he was leaning towards faerie. “Just seeing if there was any reason not to put you down,” he said, playing it cool. “If you want to barter, you’re going to have to do it for your hide.” He didn’t wait for her to respond. She wasn’t going to say anything useful until he forced her into a bad spot. Instead, he charged forwards and slashed horizontally, trying to cut off her angle of retreat even as he pressed her. She went over the swing, almost disdainful as she trod upon the blade… …and then toppled off, shrieking as if scalded. Her paws looked like they’d been scalded. “I-iron?!” she yowled. “Your swords can’t have iron! Th-this is an outrage! The Queen will have your head for this!” (Rick makes a Swordfighting attack against the Malk: +/// +7 = 8. Malk, forced out of concealment, has to defend with Athletics: ++-+ +4 = 6. Rick has W:2 so that’s four shifts of stress - second box and a Mild consequence of “Better Than A Hot Tin Roof”! Puck to Malk.) “Oh, you know who I am?” Rick asked, smirking just a little viciously. “The old, dead Warden,” she hissed, licking her wounded paw. “Clearly, not dead enough.” “The old…? Hey!” Earl bellowed, still wrestling with James. “You were with that cowboy gently caress what did for my buddy Reggie!” “Sure was,” Rick confirmed. It was surreal, being reminded of his first week in New Orleans. JR… Mitsuo… Two more friends he’d probably never see again. “Don’t worry. I’ll do for you too, soon as I’m done putting this cat back in the bag.” “Better make it quick, then,” said James as he righted himself, “Or there won’t be any vampire left for you.” “Yeah, we got this… this rear end in a top hat!” Nicky added, even going so far as to curse like an American. “Well, Earl, you heard ‘em,” Rick said, smiling broadly. “You’re all theirs.” “Yes, vampire,” the cat said, “make it quick.” “…I got a name, y’know,” Earl grumbled. “I don’t care.” She zipped between Rick’s translucent legs to make another passing swipe at James’ injured leg, but this time he was ready for her - he knew enough about fighting faeries to watch out for a trick like this, so as soon as she passed through Rick, James was already moving, darting sideways, out of the reach of those razor sharp claws. (The Malk tries to land a Consequence on James but rolls ///- +6 = 5 on her Combat, while James gets /-++ +5 = 6 to defend. Not today, cat. Puck to Nicky.) “Little touch of the bane and you run away?” Rick snapped, turning to go after the Malk. “Scaredy-cat!” Bane? Nicky thought, glancing up at the chains and manacles dangling above them. The real iron chains that Hardley had so thoughtfully installed. He slipped the hourglass back into his belt loop and pulled a tiny wrench out, waving it frantically while focusing hard on the bolts that held the chains to the ceiling. LEFT LEFT LEFT he signed, and the bolts started to turn… (Nicky, hearing that the mean kitty is a faerie, decides to supply the group with some iron. CA on his repairman ability, +/- - +5 = 4! Creates “Iron Chains Aplenty” on the scene. End of Round, puck to Rick!) It took quite a few revolutions since they were so securely-fixed, but they were also well-oiled with no cross-threading. Once Nicky had the first few turns figured out, the rest was just maintaining good form. Soon, about a dozen meters of heavy chain loops crashed to the prison floor.
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Jun 19, 2022 13:31
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Cage Match - Round 4 Rick was in hot pursuit of the Malk, slashing and pressing her. “Your fight- is with me- so stop- running off- already!” She didn’t reply, too focused on dancing just out of his reach. Then the chains came down, and both of them jumped back from each other as the thick iron links clattered and clanged off the stone where they’d been standing. She was pinned against a wall, surrounded by iron, crouched, and hissing at him like she’d take his liver if he got one inch closer. But he didn’t have a liver anymore, and she couldn’t even touch him without getting a nasty burn. It wasn’t a fair fight. I am done with fair fights. As fast as she was, she was treading very carefully on her burned paws, lifting them and shaking them one at a time as the pain got to be too much to bear. He watched until she lifted a hind paw, and struck as hard as he could, slicing for the hamstrings. Not a fatal wound, but a crippling one. Blood or barter, your choice. (Rick goes for a swordfighting attack! ///- +7 = 6, w:2! The malk defends, - - + / +4 = 3! That is enough to force her moderate consequence, but Rick wants to finish this without having to kill her so he’ll tag Iron Chains Aplenty and her mild consequence, Better Than A Hot Tin Roof, to bring that to 10:w2, which would force her major consequence. She concedes. Puck to James.) “Enough!” she huffed (after she’d finished shrieking in agony). “I yield,” she said, more simply asserting that the fight was over than actually pleading for mercy. “Are you making GBS threads me?!” Earl yelled. “We had a deal!” “I said that I would help you to fight them, and I have done just that.” She turned up her nose and flicked her tail disdainfully. “I never gave you a duration.” “Leave that circle of chains and your surrender is void,” Rick said flatly, flicking the blood off his blade. “We’ll talk shortly.” “Sucks to be you then, man,” replied James, a faint smirk at the vampire’s annoyance on his face. Raising his pistol, he took aim again, squeezing the trigger twice. (James, Combat, Attack: -+// +5+1 = +6 & W:2 vs Earl: //+- +4 = +4. Earl uses the boost from “The People’s Elbow” for +2 and spends one of his blood points for another +2 to dodge. Puck to Earl.) This time Earl flashed into vapor the instant before the bullets struck and reconstituted the instant after. “Not yet it don’t,” he said defiantly. “Dang, I’m gettin’ the hang of this.” “Well, that’s just plain rude,” said James. “So was the fire extinguisher,” Earl said. “Speakin’ of -” and he picked the canister off the ground and tried to brain James with it. James’ only response was to raise his free hand and motion for the vampire to come and get him - after all, if he was trying to eat James, he wasn’t trying to gnaw on Nicky. Earl did another lunge boosted by vampiric super-speed, but James had enough warning this time to sidestep, and Earl didn’t quite decelerate in time. He smashed the canister open against the bare stone and got another faceful of holy water for his trouble. “You’re a black court vampire, man,” replied James, “you’re not entitled to a fair fight, just a swift end to a miserable, cursed existence.” “Yeah - *ghaaaaaak!* - whatever, you - *arrrrgh!* bargain-bin Van Helsing!” Earl shot back, in between more unholy shrieks of agony. (Earl tries to clobber James with a Physique-based attack and… ---- +5 = 1. James defends with Athletics and gets -+/- +5 = 4, SwS. Miss and James gets a boost: “¡Olé!” Puck to Nicky.) “Try to find out who sent him before you kill him,” Rick said, keeping half an eye on the Malk. He didn’t trust her a whisker, even with her (still smoking) injuries. Maybe I’m starting to get the hang of this, Nicky thought. He was still bleeding, and in rather a lot of pain, but for the first time ever he felt like he’d been more than a weight for his friends to bear once the fighting started. Emboldened, (if only slightly,) he looked around the room for a way to help James. His basic speed up and slow down spells hadn’t been terribly effective because of Earl’s whole turning-into-mist ability. So what would work… Just then his foot ran up against one of the melting blocks from the collapsed snow fort, and he had a brilliant idea. He’d gotten a very, very good look at that warding circle earlier, and it shouldn’t be too hard to rebuild it. If James or Rick could push the vampire into the circle, then they’d have it trapped, and they could come back and interrogate it later. (And ‘they’ did not have to include ‘him’, which made the plan even better.) (Nicky rolls his warding skill as a CA to put El’s ward back together.//+- +5 =5! “Snow Fort Mk II” on scene! End of Round, Puck to James!) It came together even better than he’d hoped. He’d restored the circle just as it was, and not only from his study of it. It was if he could feel Hardley guiding him, his own magicks working in concert with those of the Warden. The green witchlight wreathing his arms told him that it wasn’t just his imagination. He sensed the same spell that the archway had placed on them at work. The ambient energies of the prison’s other snares receded at its influence. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for the assistance. Perhaps completing the puzzle had been a show of… good faith? That they weren’t enemies even though they’d come in the back door? As the repair was completed he realized he’d never cast complementary magic with Hardley before. It had always been lessons or examples, and always the types of spells he wasn’t any good at. Maybe if he offered to help repair the door after all this… But he could think about that later. “James!” he called again, frantically gesturing at the rebuilt circle. “Over here!”
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Jun 19, 2022 13:32
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Cage Match - Round 5 James spared a brief, precious second to glance behind himself at Nicky’s yell - judging by the pointing, the wizard wanted to trap the vampire back in its prison. As plans went, he felt rather skeptical about it - after all, black court vampires weren’t the sort of thing you wanted to just keep locked away, lest they escape and turn more - but Earl was proving rather more resilient to gunshots than he’d expected, so it would have to suffice. Besides, he could always torch the creature after they’d interrogated it, if it came to that. Holstering his weapon, he grabbed the still distracted vampire by the collar and wrist. But, for all the practice he’d had at martial arts, even as off balance it was, it was still just plain stronger than he was, so much so that he couldn’t move the creature. Earl looked like he’d have been a match for James even before he was turned. Now that he was undead and hopped up on fresh blood, he was in a whole different weight class. (James, Physique: +-+- +5 = +5 vs Earl, Physique: //+/ +5 = +6. James spends the boost from “¡Olé!” for a +2, so Earl counters by spending his blood point for his own +2. Puck to Rick.) Rick finally risked turning away from the Malk to see what was going on with the vampire, just in time to witness James’ failed judo throw. Well, that was… optimistic. The theory had been sound, at least. He felt kind of like an rear end in a top hat butting in after James had wanted to handle it himself but Earl was just too dangerous. Pride recovers faster than bite wounds. I hope. “Hey Earl! Say hi to Reggie for me,” Rick said, with a horizontal slice that was meant to take his head clean off. Earl dissipated into mist, just like he had for James’ bullets, but that was where having a sword instead of a gun was a distinct advantage when fighting old school monsters. Rick arrested his swing before it completed, and when Earl defogged, it was with Rick’s sword embedded in his chest. Rick grunted and THEN finished his slice, taking out what would have been just about every major organ if they’d meant anything to Earl. (Rick rolls +++/ +7 = 10! on an attack with Swordfighting, while Earl defends at a measly -+-+ +4 = 4, giving Rick a SwS and Earl a hash in his fifth box of stress and a Moderate Consequence of “Hope I Didn’t Need Those”. Puck to Earl.) Rick opened Earl up like a Christmas turkey with an electric carving knife, and no amount of vampiric trickery or toughness could mask the hideous extent of the tissue damage. Any living thing would have been dead three times over with a cut like that. Bellworth would have been proud. And then, as Rick wrenched…well, himself free of Earl’s carcass, Earl grabbed him by the hilt. (A wild COMPEL appears! Rick sustains a Compel on “Soul in a Sword” to be utilized as a sword against his will! Rick FP 2->3) No one had ever grabbed him like that before, not during a fight, and Rick blinked out of view in shock. Within the sword all he could feel was Earl’s cold, clammy grip, like he was getting a full body hug from a corpse. He was too disgusted for a moment to do anything except yell incoherently in Earl’s head. <Hey man, this is weird for me too,> he felt Earl’s consciousness respond. It was like being enveloped in cold smog, grease and grave dirt and cigarette ash. <But I do know, someone draws a knife in a fistfight, you better fill your hand too.> And he swung for James. In all fairness to him, James reacted faster to the surprise lunge than either of them had expected, all but throwing himself sideways to try and avoid the silver sword - but even that wasn't quite enough, and the monster hunter's eyes widened as the blade sliced through his side, teeth gritted as he stumbled sideways, blood seeping out to stain his t-shirt. (Earl attacks with W:2: /+++ +5 = +8. James defends: –/- +5 = +2 and is botscrewed, so he invokes on "Standing Amongst Giants" to reroll to avoid being gutted (James FP: 2->1): /+-/ +5 = +5, which still means he takes 2nd (rolls up to 3rd), Mild ("Carved Up Flank") and a Boost ("Armed and Even More Dangerous"). Puck to Nicky.) “Dang, why didn’t I do this sooner?” Earl said, inexpertly twirling Rick in probable imitation of some 90s action movie. “Sorry, kitten,” he told the Malk. “Looks like I got a new best friend.” The Malk would have rolled her eyes, if a cat’s eyes could roll. Instead she just flicked up her tail and turned away, licking a front paw in her best expression of feline contempt. Nicky watched all this happen with a look of pure terror. A high pitched ringing noise had started up in his ears, blocking out all normal sound. Mr. Denver has Richter. Mr. Denver is going to kill James. Mr. Denver is going to EAT US. He could barely stand to look at the shambling dead man after what Rick had done to him. His mind refused to believe someone with half their inners spilled outers could still be walking around, let alone fighting back. In that moment, all he wanted to do was give in to his fear and throw himself inside the ward he’d made. The archway’s blessing would keep him safe until someone came to fetch him. And whatever happened to Rick and James and Elbridge… well, what could he do about it? Nothing, that’s what. But another part of him, a part he’d been listening to a lot more lately, pushed him to his feet, grabbed the thick wooden crochet hooks off his belt, and jumped on Mr. Denver from behind, screaming a battle cry and trying to stake him like one of those mad, idiot ‘heroes’ on the telly. Normally, Earl would have been able to twist his shoulder and throw Nicky off by pure strength, just like he had James earlier. But this time when he tried, something went CRACK and his body didn’t respond how it was supposed to. Nicky slammed his crochet hooks into the side of Earl’s neck, which was… not the usual way to stake a vampire but the only place he could reach and hopefully good enough to at least slow him down some. (Nicky goes for a CA by leaping into combat! Normally he’d be rolling 2 on this, but he gets to roll 3 since he’s using his favorite crochet hooks. +/+- +3 = 4! Earl defends, //// +4 = 4, so Nicky places “Mis-staked” on Earl, it is fragile. End of round! Puck to Rick!)
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Jun 19, 2022 13:34
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Cage Match - Round 6 Earl couldn’t turn to face Nicky properly, not with whatever had just broken inside of him. Instead, his head just kept pivoting, wrenching the hook handles out of Nicky’s grasp, until something else went *CRACK* in his neck, and then he was looking Nicky dead in the eye with his head facing the wrong way like Linda Blair in The Exorcist. “That feelsh…guh…whash you jush do…?” Earl half-slurred, half-whistled through the impromptu tracheotomy Nicky had just given him. “Are theshe…knittin’ needlesh?” “They’re crochet hooks, you utter barbarian!” Nicky shouted, in a voice three octaves higher than his usual. Rick was still disoriented from being grabbed, but the moment he cut James everything gained a sudden, horrible clarity. He’d just been used, wielded, against his will, to hurt his friend. He had never once cut someone he hadn’t intended to, not since becoming a sword. He’d been proud of that, held onto it tightly, because it meant he wasn’t a monster, he wasn’t dangerous to the people he cared about. But now… <Best friends SHARE,> he snapped in Earl’s head, seizing the hand that held him. If Earl’s mental essence was cigarette ashes, grease, and grave dirt, then in that moment Rick’s was cold steel, rushing water, and cracking glaciers. He reached for more, all the way up, a deeper possession than he’d ever tried before. Forcing Earl to drop him would be easy, and better than the rear end in a top hat deserved. He wanted it all. He wanted Earl to be a helpless captive in his own undead skull. (Rick goes for a Will CA: ++-/ +5 = 6! Earl tries to contest with his own Will: /-+- +3 = 2. Rick places “Lend me a hand, buddy!” with 2 invokes for the SWS. Puck to James!) <Hey - don’t fuckin’ - cher, you best - fuckin’ Casper poo poo - stop it, stop it> Earl fought back with all of his willpower, but all of his willpower wasn’t that much compared to Rick’s. It would have been enough to put the mind-whammy on the average hapless civilian, but Rick was neither a civilian nor hapless. He’d fought with worse inside his own head, and Earl was very new to this. Rapidly, the grimy sensation of Earl’s mind receded along with the vampire’s impotent protests. Rick blinked, and suddenly he was staring at Nicky, and he was heavy and hungry and wrong in every way it was possible to BE wrong. Is my head on backwards? Holy poo poo. At least he didn’t have to breathe. That was always the hardest part to remember, and it just didn’t apply to Earl. He was still crying, somewhere deep down, but it was pretty easy to tune out. Almost too easy. Rick tried to say something but it came out as a gurgly wheeze through Nicky’s crochet hooks. I think James can take it from here anyways. He closed his eyes and waited, passively, for the blow to land. James could feel the wetness of his own blood, leaking out onto the wrist he’d pressed against his wounded side - the pain was almost overwhelming, and it was taking everything he had not to slump down to the ground. But he couldn’t - not with a vampire on the loose and Nicky in danger. With a grunt through gritted teeth, he staggered forward, drawing his pistol as he did. He couldn’t risk a long ranged shot, not with the wizard behind the creature. That didn’t mean he couldn’t make it hurt, though. He’d have liked to look it in the eye, but since it was currently doing a bad impression of a creepy horror movie villain, he didn’t get that satisfaction - still, he was methodical as he pressed the barrel of his gun against each of Earl’s wrists and knees in turn, each shot wrecking another vital joint. The last one destroyed Earl’s sword hand, and Rick clattered to the ground, breaking off their mental contact for better or worse. He tried to swivel his head back to look at James, but there was just too much internal (and external) damage, and instead he just lolled sideways on his broken neck. “Fuckin’…wizards…” he slurred one last time, and then his corpse dropped and finally couldn’t get back up. Not without a lot more blood. (James, Combat, Attack: -+// +5+1 = +6 & W:2 vs Earl: -/– +4 = +1. Earl doesn’t have enough tags saved up to match those the PCs have, so that’s the end of the fight.)
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Jun 19, 2022 13:35
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Normal James stepped back once he was done, bitterly spitting, “Nicky, burn this thing already.” “D-don’t you think I’d have done that ages ago if I could’ve?” Nicky said, shakily. “He’s done. Enough.” He looked down at what was left of Mr. Denver, turned as green as El’s witchlights, then turned around and got violently sick. Rick, at least, could see the remaining fight melt away from James’ eyes at Nicky’s statement, even if the wizard was too distracted to. All that left was a look of tired pain as he nodded. Stowing his pistol, James staggered to the nearest cell, propping himself up against the bars. Rick blinked back into visibility then. Victory, but not without costs. He would have liked to check James’ injuries, to give Nicky a pat on the back while he finished emptying his guts, but he couldn’t do either. There was fresh blood all over his blade, and he felt filthy after taking control of Earl’s mind. It had been so easy. He’d never even allowed himself to try it before, but now he’d crossed a line and he didn’t like what it said about him. Ada posted:It’s because you want to hurt her. You want her to lose everything she cares for, to be isolated, to be scorned, to suffer every waking moment of her life until she dies a horrible death. He got to me, Rick realized. Just like Circe. Maybe Ada’s right. If I keep lashing out like this… Without speaking he caught Earl under the collar with his pommel and started dragging him into the warding circle that Nicky had prepared. Earl’s blood didn’t trail so much as smear along the floor behind him. Once the grim task was complete, James finally spoke - at the same time Cole did, each one of them asking the other, “You OK over there?” “Jinx,” Rick said, with a poor attempt at a smile. “You owe me a coke.” James chuckled - and then, judging by the wince of pain, immediately regretted it. “I wanna know if you’re OK first, buddy. I’m in charge of this mess, remember. And you’re looking mighty pensive over there. But it’s not your fault I nearly got gutted - I should have figured he’d try something like that.” “No, I should’ve,” Rick said, staring at the floor. “Never fought someone who could just reach past the pointy end before. I could’ve at least dulled the edge, if I’d had my wits together. I’m sorry.” “Apology accepted, but I still don’t blame you,” replied James, “I was reckless, thought I could toss him about like some rookie on the judo mats, and that left me open. My own dumb mistake.” Bitterly, he mumbled, “Not the only one, either.” “I counted thirty-five distinct flaws in your form alone,” the Malk remarked from inside her ring of chains. “Tactical blunders notwithstanding.” Rick ignored her and gave James another weak smile. “I won’t tell Grace if you won’t. But c’mon, let’s look at that cut. We’re going to need disinfectant… I wasn’t exactly clean.” James weakly shook his head, “Check if Nicky’s alright first. I shouldn’t have been that blunt with him, but then… shouldn’t have lapsed back into being that ruthless, either.” “Used to do that kinda thing for Uncle Sam, eh?” Rick asked. It wasn’t judgemental, just curious. He hadn’t been able to see James’ face at the time but the shots to Earl’s extremities had been precise and practiced, one right after the other. “Yeah,” replied James with a nod, “Sometimes I let the old instincts take over, when I should know better. Cost me my last relationship, too.” “Oof. You follow your training for too long and you just stop thinking about it,” Rick said. He understood that much, at least. “Could you check on Nicky instead? I think I’m just going to freak him out more until I can wash up.” “Will do,” replied James, giving Rick a quick thumbs up with his free hand, “And I want you to show me that trick with the sword, sometime. Looked pretty drat useful to know.” Pushing off the bars, he started to walk over to where Nicky was, his steps careful and just a little shaky. — Nicky had retrieved his crochet hooks, and was putting the last touch on the warding circle to lock it now that Rick was clear. He had a piece of paper in hand that he was writing “VAMPIRE: DO NOT LET OUT” on with a red sharpie. He taped this to the short ice wall and looked up at James. “If you tell me Bilbo Baggins did any of that I’ll go after YOU with these,” he said, brandishing one of the hooks. “Nah, that was much too brave for Bilbo. You’re promoted to Samwise Gamgee now,” quipped James with a weak smile, “How’re you holding up? I’m sorry you had to see… well, all of that, honestly.” “I’m tired, I’m bitten, and I’ve lost my lunch,” Nicky said matter-of-factly. “It’s not even suppertime. How do you… do this kind of thing? Both of you, over there joking, as though… as though it’s just another day at the water cooler. And somehow, it is, and I’m just… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it is, because no one deserves to think that THIS is a normal day.” “You’re right, it shouldn’t be normal, because it isn’t. And if it’s any consolation, I’m hurting just as much as you are inside, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Rick is, too. We’re just better at hiding it behind weak attempts at bravado, that’s all,” replied James, resting his free hand on Nicky’s shoulder, “It’s not the missing chunk it took out of my flank that I’m going to be regretting in the long run, man. It’s the fact that I let myself get that ruthless again, trust me. Flesh heals way faster than the stuff in your head.” Nicky let out a long, exhausted sigh. “I’ve always been a coward, James. I’ve run away so many times, even left good people behind… It’s what I do. I’m not good at fighting, o-or doing brave things. I don’t know what possessed me. I’ve never hurt anyone before, but… he had Richter, and you were hurt, and I had to do something… In the stories the heroes feel good about it after, don’t they? But we won, and I just feel ill.” James wasn’t entirely sure if he’d ever been the hero, honestly, so he wondered if he was even qualified to answer… but that sentiment wouldn’t help Nicky very much. “Stories are just that, stories. Feeling like that after something like this… it just means you’re normal, my friend.” “For how much longer, I wonder,” Nicky said under his breath. Associating with Wardens and their deputies seemed to erode ‘normal’ at the rate of lye on grease. “Is this it, do you think? Or has Hardley got even more surprises waiting?” “I hope so, for all our sakes,” replied James, “But you know what Elbridge is like.” “That’s what worries me,” Nicky said nervously.
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Jun 19, 2022 13:36
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Cat Got Your Tongue? “So,” Rick said, standing in front of the circle of chains, staring down at the shadowcat. “Have I earned my answers by blood, as you said?” She glared at him for several seconds, waiting for Rick to blink first. When he didn’t she deflated slightly, but still seemed as hostile as ever. “You have,” she admitted, and he could tell that her pride hurt worse than her body. “Ask.” “Why are you here?” Rick questioned. “Winter and the Council are allies. The Warden hasn’t moved against the recently arrived Winter contingent, even to caution them as far as I know.” “Nor even to welcome and entertain us,” she huffed. “Not that his hospitality is much to speak of. To put me in some - some common kennel, like a housepet!” She looked at Rick, waiting for him to take the bait and ask a different question so she could avoid the first one. “Truly his manners are unspeakable,” Rick said, nonplussed. Then he waited. “Naturally, it behooved us to enquire after the reason for such rudeness,” she continued once she realized she wasn’t wriggling out of answering. “What should I find, but that he consorts freely with Summer? So, I asked a few…questions…” She bared her claws to indicate her meaning. “...of a certain associate of his associate, and learn that he’s brought a guest to this city. A guest from another reality.” She glared at Nicky. “And this guest, and the Warden, and you - ALL of you have the stench of the Void upon you. Why, I know not - but that makes you my legitimate prey.” “We gained that stench in service to your Queen,” Rick said. “Or at least the Winter Queen of his reality.” He thumbed backwards at Nicky. “Did you not scent the remnants of her blessing, if your nose is so good?” “Of course I did!” she said, indignant at the question. “And I’m sure she will mourn your valiant sacrifices in her service.” “You’re a bloodthirsty little thing aren’t you,” Rick said, shaking his head. But he didn’t quite believe her story. Time to change tactics. “What name may you be called by, so I don’t cause any more offense?” She sat upright, puffing out her chest and straightening her tail in as dignified a pose as she could affect. “I am in my person Tam Tildrum, and in my office Queen Tam XXXVII, Monarch of All the Cats of Britain, and by extension her colonies, suzerainties, and other imperial holdings.” She bristled and bared her fangs. “...what few remain, after those soft-hearted mortal fools gave most of them away. You may address me as ‘Your Majesty.’” “I am not a citizen of Britain, or a cat,” Rick said, sighing. Still if he gave her a little bit of respect he’d get more out of her. “Queen Tam, if I let you out of here and promise to discuss the Warden’s lack of manners concerning Winter’s delegation with him, will you promise to stop hunting him and those he associates with? I would rather we maintained peace between our peoples, and despite the lingering stench I can swear that we are not friends of the void, but warriors who’ve fought and bled beyond the Outer Gates. The Warden himself helped slay the worm that was devouring the NeverNever here.” “Chrrrrrrr…” Tam crouched low and lashed her tail back and forth, clearly irked at the thought of giving up on a hunt for any reason. “This arrangement is…tolerable. Guarantee my freedom, and I shall forswear my pursuit.” Rick caught himself before agreeing. The deal he’d proposed was worthless. He’d expected her to try and haggle. Too easy. I missed something. “Not so fast, I’ve still got questions. Did you take up this hunt yourself or were you sent?” “I took it up myself,” she said, terse and evasive. “On your own behalf or for another?” “Nobody commands me to hunt, and I am not nursing kittens-” “Queen Tam,” Rick said forcefully. “This reticence ill becomes one of your station.” She actually lunged at that, baiting him, stopping just short of the bounds of the circle. Rick got down on one knee and leaned his whole intangible head inside the circle until they were nearly nose to nose. “I don’t fear you, and right now, you have no reason to fear me. Let’s cut the bullshit.” Tam looked even more furious than when he’d cut her with iron. “...I notice things when I hunt. Interesting things. Secret things, which I owe to none but for which I am willing to barter with those who purchase secrets.” All the rest of it was a front, no wonder it didn’t check out. She’s a spy. “That sounds like a very useful skill,” said Rick. “And a very dangerous way to employ it. Did the Warden take issue with the sale of certain of these secrets?” “He did,” Tam said. “In particular, those regarding the events surrounding the Solstice, a certain list he keeps…” her eyes narrowed, regarding Rick like she would a mouse she didn’t care to eat but was delighted to keep toying with. “…and you.” Bait, obviously. But he was curious. Maybe just one question. “And who is paying for information about me?” Tam hissed again, and all the fur on her tail stood on end. “...no,” she growled. “THAT answer will cost you more than a mere victory on the battlefield.” Rick had spent a lot of time with Marmalade lately, and he knew what a cat looked like when it was frightened. Faerie or not, Tam was displaying too many of the same signs to disregard. Her client must be someone pretty high on the totem pole. That’s… not good. “Let’s put a pin in that one then,” Rick said, shrugging as if his stomach hadn’t just done a couple flips. “How long have you been locked up here? By mortal bearings,” he added, before she could obfuscate with flowery language. “Twenty-six days, seven hours, thirty-one minutes and nineteen seconds,” she said listlessly. Rick whistled low. “A whole month out of the loop. Your network must be in shambles.” “A minor state of disrepair, at worst,” she spat back. “I have rebuilt it from less.” She put on a show of bravado, but he could tell that he’d hit a nerve. Tam’s gossip was hemorrhaging value with every minute she spent in a cage. (Rick Provokes Tam for a CA: +-/+ +4 = 5! Vs. Tam’s will: /++- +4 = 5! Fragile aspect: “All poofed up and nowhere to go”) “Only if your contacts here don’t take over while you’re gone,” Rick prodded. “Or are you working alone?” “There will be a reckoning upon my return,” Tam huffed. “Those who stayed loyal will be rewarded; those who did not shall incur my…disfavour.” Great, there’s more of them. Wonder how much El’s gotten out of her… He has had her for a month. “How’d you get-” He paused and thought better of it. “Ahem, how did you come to be enjoying the Warden’s hospitality for such an extended period of time?” “I don’t know,” she said. “One of mine must have let some crucial detail slip, or was seen while surveilling him, or otherwise gave him cause to suspect that he was being watched. So far, he’s refused to tell me. All I know is that several promising leads dried up in a hurry, and when I went to investigate the cause, he was there and waiting for me.” Her nose wrinkled up in displeasure. Even now, the memory clearly rankled her. “I took two of my honour guard with me. We were separated in the pursuit, and when I thought I had him cornered, he cast a spell that shattered all of my glamours and robbed me of my strength. I awoke in that kennel.” “And you haven’t been able to come to terms since?” “We remain at an impasse, yes,” Tam said. “Hm.” Not much, I’m willing to bet. Not that I’m doing better. To go back to what you said before for a moment, were there different clients for the Solstice, the ‘list’, and me? Or was it all one client?” “Rrrrrrrr…” Tam began rumbling agitatedly. It wasn’t quite a purr. It was louder, tenser. “There was some overlap,” she said, finally calculating that numbers were safe where names were not. “Multiple parties expressed an interest in the Solstice and the Blacklist. Only one asked after you.” She gave a nasty little laugh. “Oh, don’t look so put-out, Richter. Quality over quantity, no?” He did not look put out. Did he? “The party that would want information on the Solstice the most is Summer,” he said, tilting his head. “You’re not playing both sides… Are you, Your Majesty?” “I exercise my royal prerogative,” she said bluntly. “I do not engage in anything so crass as treason.” “But who else would care about the Solstice? My team took care of all the minor emergencies, and the biggest one should have remained largely unknown. No, if you saw something and told someone about it, it must have been Summer, or an agent of theirs posing as a neutral party.” “She is neutral,” Tam hissed. “She has worked for both Summer and Winter with the blessings of the Queens -” she stopped herself there, realizing that she’d said too much. (Rick tries to Provoke Tam into saying too much, and tagging “All Poofed Up” he rolls -++/ +6 = 7. Tam defends with Will, +--/ +4 = 3. Fascinatingly, an exact mirror of Rick’s roll, and a SwS for Rick. He gets another Boost: “Kitty, Cornered”.) “Oh, has she?” Rick muttered. That was a trail he could follow, and soon, if he went to see Glaniell like he’d planned. “Well, I’m sure it’s alright then. Definitely not something that could get you into trouble if anyone found out about it. I apologize for the accusation.” “Y-you had better,” she exclaimed, her eyes wide and her tail at full poof. “The indignity…! I mean to say, this conversation bores me. Have you anything more-interesting to discuss?” “As a matter of fact I have,” Rick said, smiling guilelessly at her. “It’s about the Blacklist. I’m very impressed you managed to discover something about it right under the Warden’s nose. He basically sleeps with it under his pillow, you know. Why, I’ve only seen inside its pages a few times myself…” “His little, private Pandaemonium?” Tam said, yawning. “Ha. Not so private as he thinks. I don’t know why it draws such consternation - who are its inmates, that anyone would spare the effort on them? Has he even sealed any above the rank of Baronet?” “There were a few. I’m having trouble remembering their names though… You know how demon names are, bunch of nonsense letters shoved together.” It was a slow dance, and he was leading for now, but he knew she’d drive a heel into his foot if he wasn’t careful. “I’m just too distracted, really. Wondering what kind of ‘quality’ person might be interested in me. Maybe if I knew more about them I could think more clearly…” “I’m certain that I could arrange an introduction,” she teased. “The terms of that meeting, however…well, I need proper motivation to conduct my best work.” “You see, I doubt you’re able to arrange anything like that from inside here, and you haven’t been able to entice the Warden into freeing you either,” Rick said, shaking his head. “Leaving aside how a meeting with someone who’s paying for info on me is probably not doing it for my benefit… I’m curious why you haven’t come to terms with the Warden yet. You’re a skilled negotiator aren’t you? He’s not that unreasonable, unless something you found out is worth keeping you locked up… permanently.” “...you say that he’s not unreasonable,” Tam echoed flatly, looking around at the entire extradimensional prison which Elbridge had built inside his front door. “There was a vampire trying to mist through the vents within the past 24 hours,” Rick said, hooking a thumb back towards the mutilated body in the ice-ward. “A very stupid vampire,” Tam added. “If that one had managed to harm him, he would have deserved it for his ineptitude. But then, if he truly valued his safety, why would he have taken the cloak?” She smiled nastily. “And if you so care for him, why did you let him take it?” “Not really my decision, puss,” Rick said, brushing it off. “The Council had to reappoint someone. But you’re dealing with me right now, not him. Have you even tried to negotiate your own release?” (Tam decides to get personal in return, rolling Provoke to deal Mental Stress to Rick: /-+- +5 = 4. Rick defends with Will, rolling //+/ +5 = 6, and doesn’t take the bait.) “Of course I have!” she huffed. “His demands are absurd! That I should swear myself to secrecy rather than inform my clients? Outrageous! No,” she said, her tail flicking again. “He is only a human, and humans make mistakes. Sooner or later, he will make one himself, and I shall be free on my own terms.” “Nothing has ever escaped the Blacklist, so I’d be careful betting against the Warden on that count. I’ll be talking with him right after I’m done talking with you, you know. I’m willing to discuss equitable trades. Your silence isn’t worthless. But you’ve already found out some things about me that I don’t want you spreading around, and if I need to protect myself I know a much deeper, darker hole we can throw you down that won’t be nearly as easy to escape as this one. I’m sure there’s some reason he hasn’t had you killed yet, so I won’t bother threatening your life, but it’s up to you if we’d be better off negotiating with Queen Tam XXXVIII, once it’s made clear that the XXXVII isn’t coming home.” It was visible for less than a second - even a blink would have been enough to miss it - but the Malk flinched softly at the mention of ‘Queen Tam XXXVIII’, and Rick could see that this threat worried her more than any other he’d made so far. “If you wish to discuss ‘equitable trades’,” Tam said acidly, “bring me a deal that does not impugn my honour as a huntress and a seeker of secrets. Until then -” she began to groom herself in earnest “- I have nothing more to say.” She needs to save face somehow, Rick thought. Or maybe there’d be a Tam XXXVIII even IF we let her go. He watched her paw at her whiskers, what ones he’d left her, anyways, and bit his lip. I can’t push her more right now or it’ll just make it harder later. And I need to ask El about… well, all of this. A whole month and he never said a word… He wasn’t angry about it, he’d asked to be left out of exactly this kind of Warden business. But now that he knew, he had some questions. “Alright, Your Majesty, I’m satisfied. That does mean you have to get back in your kennel, though. You may leave the circle of chains to go directly back to it.” She paused her licking to heave a weighty sigh. Clearly, she had hoped he might forget about that. Grudgingly, she allowed herself to be escorted back. Now that Rick had the time and wherewithal to inspect it in detail, he could discern that among the other wards on its wrecked door was a spell to bind a shadow in place, so that it could not vanish into the darkness. And even with the green torches, there was a lot of darkness in this prison. One more reason Alisa’s new form will only be a half-measure. So many spells and wards and bindings for shadows. Almost as many as for ghosts. He sighed and picked the door up. It should have taken Earl’s level of strength, but Rick had spent two months building an entire forest, lake, and cabin retreat for his demesne. Adjusting the properties of objects in the Nevernever, especially small pocket dimensions, came easily these days. As he set it back on its hinges, he touched the damaged areas lightly and if anyone had been looking they blurred slightly, before returning to their original state. Strangely, he could feel the magic of the place helping him. Wisps of green danced around the repairs, as if Elbridge were somehow inspecting his work. “Good as new,” he said, giving Tam a smile. On a whim he snapped his fingers… and a large, fluffy pink cat bed appeared in the darkest corner of the cell. There was a gold crown embroidered on one corner. “Until next time, Your Majesty.” With that he closed the door, and the thick bolts clunked back into place. She glared at him, silent and unblinking, until he’d left her alone in her cage. Then and only then did she dart up onto the pillow. It was too soft and too gaudy and the wrong size and it wasn’t as good as the one in her own home and she would kill any other animal that so much as looked at it wrong because it was ALL. HERS. And if she ever did share it with Murrazonoth, no-one else would live to say otherwise.
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Jun 19, 2022 13:38
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Wake Up and Calls Scene: El’s Apartment?! While Nicky fixed the wards on Tam’s new and improved kennel door, Rick went looking for the way out. He found it almost by accident, behind the snow-fort. It wasn’t even marked as an exit, but he could feel the outer bounds of the gaol give slightly as he pushed against it. He could also feel the lingering magic of the trap that had conjured the snow-fort in the first place. Earl had gotten very close indeed, but he’d gotten careless at the last second. The portal wasn’t visible, but from its texture and dimensions, it was the door that had gone missing from the hallway into the apartment when they’d set off the trap in the deadbolt. “Found it!” Rick called, waiting for James and Nicky to join him. “Thank GOD,” Nicky said. He did take an extra moment to double check his work, despite everything. The idea of the Malk escaping again after all of that did not sit well with him. “I need an invitation to manifest in someone’s home,” Rick said, wincing slightly as he offered the still-bloody sword to James. “Until you get him up and talking, you’ve gotta babysit. Sorry.” After a brief hesitation at the sight of his own blood on the blade, James took the offered sword and shrugged, "Eh, wouldn't call it babysitting. We'll be fine, and hopefully Elbridge is too, so you and Nicky can do the whole intervention thing." “Thanks,” Rick said. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.” --- The door was still locked, of course, but after everything else they’d been through, a little lockpicking was nearly an afterthought. It swung open, and they were inside Elbridge’s apartment proper. He was still curled up on the floor in a puddle of vomit, shivering and rocking back and forth. The receiver for his ancient rotary set dangled from its cord next to his hand, still emitting its ceaseless monotone. It sounded as if he was muttering something, and his lips were certainly moving as though he were, but the sounds didn’t seem to come from his mouth, and none of the overlapping streams of whispers were in his own voice. “Christ,” mumbled James at the sight before him - it made the consequences of his own visions look positively tame by comparison. “If he’s mumbling, that means his airway’s clear,” he said, trying to recall what to do when someone was suffering from a seizure - though even that seemed… barely useful, in a situation like this. “poo poo,” he mumbled under his breath, looking over at Nicky, “Is there anything we can do for him?” “I’m not a doctor,” Nicky said sharply. “...but I think we should at least get him upright, and off the floor.” That, James could do - and so, after gently propping Cole up against the nearest wall, he did exactly that. Kneeling beside Elbridge, he reached down to lift the elderly wizard. Elbridge stirred when James touched him. At first, it looked as though he was coming to, sitting upright on his own. But then he kept rising, and rising, all the way onto his feet, and then off his feet, until he was levitating in midair with his head nearly bumping the ceiling. His eyes were rolled back, revealing the whites, and his arms hung by his side; he was suspended like a puppet. He rotated to face them, and the whispers fell silent, and then he spoke. “The eye in shadows wavers, inexact, called to witness, drawn to act. The exile greets his native half, their works unravel silk from chaff. The walker wends 'tween frost and flame, beyond the veil there lies his gain. The umbral coin spins in revolution, once forgotten, it brings forth retribution.” “...oh bloody hell,” Nicky said under his breath. Luckily there was a pencil and a whole stack of envelopes on the table. He started taking down the words before he could forget them. “Damnit, Elbridge, why’d you have to go full Grecian Oracle on us,” grumbled James under his breath. Readying himself to catch the wizard, he reached up and grabbed Elbridge’s wrist, shaking him in an attempt to snap him out of whatever it was. He got a nasty electric-feeling shock for his trouble, and something in the air made a brittle, snapping noise. Elbridge dropped to the floor, throwing his hand out to catch himself before his whole body hit the ground. “I’M HERE,” he shouted as if he’d just been jolted from a deep sleep. “I’M HERE, I’m…” Elbridge pulled himself upright and saw what his hand had landed in. “...eurgh. Wizard Osei, I’m…” He blinked. “Ivarson? Cantor? What in the world…?” “You went full Oracle on us - omens, sympathetic visions, some sort of seizure… the lot, basically,” James replied, “And, ah, long story short, we broke in. Had to make sure you weren’t dying or something.” “It was an adventure,” Nicky said, with as much disdain as he could pack into the word. “I’m glad you’re alright, Hardley. We were worried, given the crows and the vampires and all. Give Rick an invite would you? He’s over by the door. I’ll put a kettle on.” “Vampires?!” Elbridge stared. “Er… oh! Hello, Rick. Do, ah, ahem…” He laboured to compose the sentence properly when Rick was plainly already inside. “...er, that is, you’re invited.” He did a double-take at the bloodstains on Rick’s blade, and the lacerations on James’ side and Nicky’s throat. “I see that you’ve met Her Nibs,” he said, glancing at the slices on James’ calf, “but what’s this about vampires?” "Black Court Vampire tried to get in here via the AC ducts. Got trapped. Him and the cat tried to stage a jailbreak," James quickly explained, "We objected." “We left both of them locked up tight,” Rick said, flickering into view with a sigh of relief. He’d seen El do a dozen readings, but never float before. “You might need to throw a blood pack at Dracula’s H-VAC guy if you want him to talk, though. He’s missing a few parts.” He picked the filthy sword up and headed for the kitchen sink. “Got a few questions about ‘Her Highness’ but I think we all need to get cleaned up-” he gave James a guilty glance, “-and stitched up first.” Elbridge cleaned off his spectacles and donned them to take a closer look at their injuries “…oh dear,” he muttered. “I’ll fetch the first aid kit and magic up some clean water. But first…” He took up his staff and said a few words in Sanskrit at the door, which still opened into the dark prison. Then he closed the door and opened it again, and it led to the third floor hallway again. And then James’ phone blew up. (Figuratively.) "Geez, I step outside reality for a bit and suddenly I'm Mr Popular," mumbled James as he retrieved his phone. "Looks like Grace was trying to get in touch," he said, skimming through the accumulated messages. Still, given that she'd gone off on a quest to save someone's relationship, it probably wasn't urgent. The message from Gina, on the other hand, asking what was up… well, he'd have to see what they could make of the stack of prophecies they now had before he disappointed her with the news about Frisk. With a frown, he said, "Better make it a strong mug of tea."
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Jun 19, 2022 13:49
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Consultation With An Oracle They worked in comparative silence until the tea had finished steeping, cleaning wounds, applying bandages and stitches, and sanitizing the floor. Luckily, it was linoleum, so it wouldn’t stain or warp. Elbridge for his part seemed as vigorous (or at least doggedly-stubborn) as ever as he worked the mop, so whatever had happened to him, it was safe to assume that it hadn’t been a seizure. Rick made him sit and had James check his eyes with a light to see if he’d gotten a concussion from the fall, but it seemed he’d been lucky on that front too. It was still an open question how long the visions would have held him if no one had come, though. Once they finally got James to stop making sure everyone else was alright and sit down, he - unlike Nicky, who’d drawn the unlucky job of stitching him up - was rather nonplussed about being sewn back together, almost as if he’d been carved up before. Nicky was a bit fussier while James cleaned out the bite wound and medical-taped a big gauze patch over it. “I won’t need to worry about er, turning will I?” Nicky whispered to James, concerned. James shook his head in response, whispering back, “Nah. As long as you don’t go dying on us, it’ll just feel like a bout of the flu.” “Plague bats,” Nicky groused. “Why am I not surprised? I’ll pick up some fever relievers on the way home I suppose.” “Maybe I can take care of you for a change,” Rick said, nudging his shoulder. Nicky just shook his head, and then winced as the motion tugged on his bandage. “Four o’ clock,” Elbridge said, shaking his head and glowering into his mug. “I’ve lost most of the day to that bloody episode.” “What triggered it?” Rick asked, propping his sword up in one of the chairs and sitting down at the table. He’d been useless at cleaning up, even needing help to dry off after making a mess of El’s sink. Not by choice, but you didn’t leave a blade wet unless you wanted it to rust. At least Nicky’s stitches on James’ chest were so clean he doubted the wound would scar too badly. “I’m not entirely certain,” Elbridge said. He thought back to what had happened in the moments leading up to the deluge. “I had a rather stressful telephone call with Ms. Wagner, and then that damned woodpecker started making a racket again. After I dealt with that, Wizard Osei called, and that was when it began.” “I don’t think you need to worry about the woodpecker anymore,” Nicky muttered, turning slightly green as he remembered the corpse on the lawn. “Oh, Kwame called?” Rick asked, perking up. “What did he say? Er, sorry I didn’t tell you he might, but I didn’t want him to think I’d prepped you for it. He was… worried… that I might not be who I said I was.” “I daresay I’ve disabused him of that notion,” Elbridge said. “He was concerned for you. I encouraged him to visit. Probably best that you two have that discussion in person without my acting as a middleman.” Rick winced. “Yeah… probably. I was planning to call him again today but if he’s coming to visit…” Nicky raised an eyebrow intently at Rick, who pretended not to see it. He sighed. “Was this what interrupted the call, then?” he asked, handing Elbridge the envelope with the final prophecy written on it. “I… no, no it wasn’t,” Elbridge said, looking over what he’d said unbidden. “I began to see… they must have been different possible futures.” He put the envelope aside for the time and picked up what had been inside of it. “I sought out help. I received answers. Each vision showed me a different respondent.” He unfolded the pages onto the tea tray and passed them to Rick to read. “Oh, responses for the recruitment ad? That was fast,” Rick said, surprised. “More than I thought you’d get, too. Anyone say anything useful?” “...wait. Yes. Yes, they did!” Elbridge exclaimed. He pulled out the list of coordinates he’d written, along with the map with which they corresponded. “A temporal echo of Warden Plant located most of Medusa’s victims!” He handed them to the others for inspection. “And Warden Vincent… I lost consciousness shortly after he appeared, but he said something. Some sorts of caches that the Red Court left behind.” He gave an involuntary shudder as he recalled the full statement. “...Medusa may have found them. Or will find them, if not stopped.” “If they were present here that must have been at some point in the future. Any idea how far?” Rick asked, still reading the applications. Plant he didn’t remember, must have been too new, but he had met Vincent and Blackburn, if only briefly. Everyone knew Munict. (Not that anyone wanted to know Munict. He’d fossilized to his place at the Warden’s water cooler before most of the active force had been born.) “I don’t recall. I looked for newspapers or similar clues, but I couldn’t find - wait!” Another fragment near the end came back to him. “Warden Denny said that the election had been six months ago.” His face fell. “...Goldman had won.” "So it's some bad future that we need to avert, then," said James, "Between us, we've got a bunch of prophecies and visions. With all that intel, surely we can muster some sort of scheme up, even if it means trading whatever's in those old caches for Frisk." “That is…certainly a fallback plan,” Elbridge said, dyspeptic at the thought. “Considering what may be in those caches, I hope that it doesn’t come to that. Wait.” He looked at James again. “‘Prophecies’? Plural?” "Yeah, I managed to trigger one this morning. Intentionally," James admitted, "Gimme one hell of a headache.” “Ginger ale and a hot water bottle,” Elbridge recommended. “Don’t skip the sugar, either - it helps.” James nodded at the suggestion, then continued, "I was about to call you, ask for help interpreting the thing, but then I started getting a bad feeling. I think I was picking up some of your omens." “That can happen,” Elbridge said. “Like feedback from an amplifier stack.” He looked around at the others’ expressions. “What? I lived through the 1960s. Saw Hendrix live on stage, even.” "I can just imagine you wearing tie-dye," replied James with a grin. “The tie-dye is only for the direst emergencies,” Elbridge said with a thin smile. “What did you see?” James retrieved a folded up piece of paper from his bag and handed it over, "I ended up channeling the vision through a typewriter, so it's all written there. Plus a second one that I have no recollection of making. Ignore the rest - my typewriter's haunted." Rick had never been to a concert and was still too busy feeling jealous that Elbridge had seen Hendrix to say anything about that, though he did file it away for later. “I still need to debrief her,” Elbridge said, as though those words had made perfect sense to him, and began to read. His brow furrowed more and more with every line. “‘Beware, beware, he knows too much’,” he read aloud as he reached the end “... oh dear.” "Who's he, though?" James asked, "Even though I was focusing on Frisk's campaign badge, somehow I doubt it's him. Could be you, or me, or even Goldman?" “I don’t think it’s any of us,” Elbridge said, shaking his head. “My plan - the one for which I’d hoped to enlist Ms. Wagner - was to find and revive just one of Medusa’s victims. Whichever one she could least afford to have resurface. To use this person as leverage to force her to return Frisk. I think…” He ran his finger over the passages describing the man with a domino mask and no face. “...that this is our man. And I think that THIS - ” he indicated the final words “ - is a warning about that same man.” "As plans go, it seems a decent enough one. Probably safer than trading whatever's in those caches, though given the warnings, we need to be cautious who we pick," James replied, "As for retrieving them… figures, that my dumb luck wouldn't drag me near that Hellmouth - the one you guys torched - yesterday just to put down some stray demons. Long story short, I ended up having dinner with a gang of were-gators. If Grace isn't free, I dare say we could probably hire them for retrieval." “...you actually met the were-gators?” Rick asked, looking up from the letters. He was impressed. “They’ve ducked us for a whole year.” "Yeah. Seemed like decent enough sorts," James replied, "respect to them for trying to deal with the stray demon problem." Rick’s brows knitted together. “So they’ve been watching the hellmouth… I’d been wondering if someone was, we hadn’t had any reports of demon activity and the veil was basically swiss cheese for a while after the hurricane. Can I see that?” He asked El, pointing at the typewritten pages. “By all means.” Elbridge put the documents on the tea tray over the application letters. “See if you can find something we’ve missed.” “‘Fragrance of mortal death’ sure does sound like True Moly,” Rick said, running a spectral finger over the line. It was a scent he remembered very well. "Yeah. Damned if I could guess what monsters are casting the shadows, though," James added, "Too many tall beasties with claws and fangs out there to narrow it down any. White toothed smile, though… whoever it's talking about can afford to invest in a good dentist?" (James, Lore(Monsters): —/ +3 = +0.) Nicky snickered at that. “Perhaps,” Elbridge said, skeptical. It was strange - whoever was behind that mask, it seemed that they’d been turned to stone long enough for much of their face to erode away, which would mean they would have been petrified for far longer than Medusa had been in New Orleans. Perhaps she’d brought them with her from the old world. Or perhaps they’d been disfigured long before they were turned to stone. Both possibilities were disquieting in their own ways. “First, I think we’ve some important leads to pursue. Er…James? Are you in any condition to help with extracting statues from a swamp?” James shook his head. "Probably not. How are you planning to move them from the swamp to wherever you're curing them, anyway?" “The cure is portable,” Elbridge said. “I plan to administer it on site, once I collect a dose from Ash.” "Makes sense - easier than transporting a statue, at any rate," James replied, "Did you already ask Grace if she'll help?" “She’s indisposed,” Elbridge said coolly. Clearly he had feelings about this, and just as clearly he did not wish to discuss them. James resolved to ask Grace what was going on between her and the Warden - more likely to get a straight answer that way. For now, though, he said, "Which just leaves Mickey and his crew. Bet their help would cost, though." “And their loyalties are…uncertain,” Elbridge considered. Midas and Medusa had both cast their nets wide. Their bribery and corruption were everywhere, as far as he could tell, and he didn’t put it past them to have paid off at least a few of Mickey’s gang. “There may be another option, however.” “One with yellow eyes, claws, fangs, and such?” Nicky asked, peering at the page. “Yes. The Delacroixs.” “Ghouls?” Rick asked, confused. “That’d fit the description, and it sounds like these monsters in the prophecy are helping you, but… Are you sure, El?” “They want Frisk back alive as much as we do,” El said, “if not more. James can attest to that.” "I dunno, I'm pretty motivated, now that I'm course number one on their return to eating people if we don't get him back," said James, dryly, "but you're right - Frisk was putting them on a better path, one they don't want to give up. If it'll get him back, they might pitch in, but it'll need one hell of a sales pitch to convince them to help out again." “I have credibility,” Elbridge said, that chill creeping back into his voice. “If nothing else, they won’t think me soft, nor given to distraction.” For just an instant, before he buried it, James flashed an annoyed glare at Elbridge. And then it was gone as he sipped at his mug of tea. After a brief moment of lingering tension, he explained for the others, "They're afraid of him. Somehow, he's ended up as the monster that a band of ghouls tell fearful campfire tales about." “‘Somehow’ probably involves that ugly business at the docks last year,” Rick said. “Though I don’t think that was the Delacroixs directly. Clan Mercier was running a kidnapping ring, picking up minor talents and selling them to the Fomor.” “It seems I’ve made an impression,” Elbridge added. James could admit to the specifics later. “Several. Deep ones. In Mercier bodies. In any event, I should be able to convince Mitra of my commitment.” “Do you mind not bragging about such things?” Nicky said. “I’m going to be sick again.” “That can happen when the rush of adrenaline wears off,” Elbridge told him, not-unconcernedly, “or from overexerting yourself with spellcraft. An herbal tea may be a better choice-” (El rolls Empathy to try to get a read on Nicky: /-+- +2 = 1. He offers some advice that’s clinically-useful but not QUITE what Nicky needs.) Nicky stared down into his tea without a word. The surface of the liquid quavered as his hands shook. “That’s the first time you ever hurt someone on purpose, wasn’t it?” Rick asked quietly. Nicky nodded once and took a ragged breath before sipping at his tea. Maybe an herbal would have been better. Or anything at all that wasn’t Earl Grey. “...ah,” Elbridge said softly, finally making the connection. “...your actions saved lives, Nicholas. Including, in all probability, your own. If I may, I recommend that you focus on that. Dwelling on the ‘how’ over the ‘what’...nothing good comes of that. Please, believe me.” “I’ll try,” Nicky said. He didn’t sound at all sure that he’d succeed. “None of it would have even happened if that ward hadn’t been damaged somehow…” “The ward was what?!” El sputtered. “Damaged,” Rick confirmed. “The vampire was in a little snow fort when we were passing through the gaol. He tried to convince us to let him out, playing at being a normal repairman who fell through a trap in the vents, but when we told him to just step outside the circle to prove he was human, he kicked it over and then proceeded to rip the door off Tam’s kennel. Rough as it went…” He shook his head. “Honestly, it’s probably a good thing we found him and not you by yourself.” “Tam,” Elbridge snarled, flushing with anger. “I am going to skin that little gobshite. She must have sabotaged the ward.” “I wouldn’t put it past her,” Rick said. “She messed up though. Silvered steel isn’t as painful as cold iron, but it did the job, and I got her talking afterwards.” “Did she say anything useful?” Elbridge asked, still fuming. “Or did she just take the opportunity to needle you and talk in circles?” Rick nodded. “I think I’ve got enough to find out who was asking about the Solstice. Gimme a chance to run down some leads. There was more than that, but… we’re burning time here and she can wait a day or two. Frisk comes first.” “That he does,” El said. “Ada might be finished with her own business, and I…” He grit his teeth and took several deep breaths. “...could do…with her assistance.” Rick’s eyebrows could not actually go any higher than they did at that moment. “Claudia suggested that I try to put more trust in her,” Elbridge said, clearly responding to Rick’s expression. “I gave up a full day of work to aid her project yesterday, and rallying people to a cause is, I must say, her forté. If I can’t ask for her help with this, then when could I ever?” “Oh, yeah. I’m sure she’ll have some good advice,” Rick said. “She usually does. But before you start going down the phone tree…” He paused and tapped the envelope on the tea tray with the final prophecy, the one Nicky had taken down. “Is there anything we need to do about this?” “Unquestionably-so,” Elbridge sighed. “But not today. If Frisk doesn’t make a public appearance by tomorrow, Medusa’s scheme will succeed.” “Alright,” Rick said, though it worried him. That last line in particular, the one about the ‘Umbral coin’ getting retribution. “We should get back together tomorrow then, because I have a feeling this one has to do with all of us.” "Out of the frying pan and into the fire?" quoted James, "Since I can't exactly traipse around the swamp, I'll try and research what I can about it. See if I can piece anything together." “I’ll just make some copies,” Nicky said, gathering James’ pages and the notes he’d taken. “A night to think it over might help shed light on some of these.” “Yeah,” Rick said. He turned to his friend and spread his hands. “I’m not sure how I’d be of any use on this one, El. Daylight, outdoors, water…” His shoulders slumped. “It’s an unfortunate set of circumstances, to be sure,” Elbridge said, pinching the bridge of his nose and adjusting his glasses. “I don’t know that you’d be well-received by the Delacroixs in any event. They’re…skittish. But I knew this wouldn’t be an easy job when I took it.” “Alright… I’ll look into what I got out of Tam then. It’s about time I met back up with Glaniell anyways.” "You two need a ride back?" James asked as he set his mug aside and stood up. “We’d appreciate that, thank you,” Nicky said, passing the copies of the prophecies out and pocketing his own. Rick just nodded. "Alright. We'll check Earl's apprentice on the way out, make sure he's not a vamp, too," James said, before turning to Elbridge, "Elbridge, I'd appreciate it if you called me once you're done in the swamp. I know the Carnivale was a debacle, but I want to see this through, especially since it's my head in the proverbial noose if it goes wrong." “I’ll keep you apprised,” Elbridge told him. “And James? I do believe that you can make this right.” James sensed that by Elbridge's standards, that wasn't far off a glowing endorsement. With a nod, he replied, "Good luck in the swamp."
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Jun 21, 2022 02:39
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Lab Work [Scene: Gorden’s Dorm Room] Shadows and red, red, red light, dancing and sparking like a mad disco ball, producing a stutter effect that makes anything moving seem to do so in fast forward. Flicker, flicker, flicker, the shadows closing in all around, becoming one, splitting apart. Screams of anger, of frustration, dissolving into furious laughter. Squelching, sickening thuds, splatters of wet. Purple veins sticking out against flushed skin, eyes so wide they hold no color at all, just black dots in a field of mad white. Chains being dragged across the hot metal floor, sizzling against flesh. There is no escape here, and no desire to escape. Claws on your hands, your mouth filled with sharp fangs, muscles tense and tight. All you want now is to HURT. Someone else, yourself, the metal walls, it doesn’t matter in the slightest. You lunge forwards- As dream-Gorden lunged, real-world Gorden snorted as his chair slid backwards, pulling his head off the table and sending him crumpling to the floor. “Urgh…” he groaned as he pulled himself up to table height again, briefly making sure the crystal he’d once again spent an all-nighter working over hadn’t fallen with him before slumping back into his chair, making sure to lean backwards this time. “I’ve got to stop doing this,” he muttered to no one as he finally pulled himself up, shuffled over to the mini-fridge, and grabbed a can of iced tea before shambling back to the table, obviously still intent on “doing this.” He drained the can in one long, deep sip, then crushed a sizeable dent in one side. Then with some little trepidation, he held the can in one hand, touched the crystal with the other, and focused on making the can undamaged again. The can swiftly undented with a noisy pop! The crystal didn’t change in any visible way and the multimeter didn’t fluctuate in the slightest, still giving off that same low level energy reading it had reverted back to once it had recovered from the surge of shattering Danny’s pendant. “Huh, so…not all magic then?” Gorden scratched his head at the lack of reaction. Danny had said that his pendant was made with demon tricks and damned tears. That didn’t sound like the sort of magic, say, Elbridge would know how to pull off. Didn’t he have something like that? He took off his pendant and set it down on the desk. Then he thought for a moment, ran to the kitchenette, grabbed the toaster oven tray and set the pendant on that. For what he was about to do he was pretty sure he wanted it to be on something that wouldn’t…well…catch fire. He gently put a wire scrap connecting the pendant and the crystal, set his finger against the pendant, and gave it a little mental “kick”. As the star-iron pendant began to give off heat, the red crystal seemed to take on a brighter glow. Slowly at first, and then more intensely. The multimeter began to rise, and as it did Gorden felt the star-iron cooling. Not because he had stopped putting magic into it, because he hadn’t, but because the red crystal appeared to be absorbing the energy as it was produced. A reaction! And a controlled one, not one that required Gorden to chase bits of red hot iron across his room. He produced his grimoire and noted the effect beside a sketch of the device he’d already made. The sudden reaction with Danny’s necklace…had the rush of demon energy overloaded the thing, feeding it back into the necklace and making it explode? He watched the multimeter rise, wondering what would happen as it approached the top of its reading. As he put more magic into the star-iron, it started to heat further, and the red crystal kept glowing brighter and brighter until he couldn’t look at it without squinting. The multimeter capped out, but the crystal seemed like it was still hungry for more energy. Suddenly, Gorden realized he could feel something drawing his magic out. More than he’d planned to use, as though it were being sucked right out of him, but subtly enough that he hadn’t noticed it at first. Also, the heat of the star-iron was melting through the toaster pan and would become a problem in a moment. “Crap, crap, crap!” Gorden hissed out loud. He got up out of the chair intending to go for the fire extinguisher, but somehow he just couldn’t take his eyes–and his hands–off of the experiment before him. (("Will roll +5 vs 6"You got an Epic(+7) result!)) With one last panicked gasp he finally pushed himself off from the desk and scrambled for the extinguisher under the sink, blasting the stellar iron with CO2 before it set off the smoke detector. The red crystal kept shining brightly, and the multimeter stayed capped out. The stellar iron, bathed in CO2 and deprived of its magical fuel, immediately began to cool again (though the toaster pan was probably a loss.) Gorden stared at the hole he’d burnt into the toaster pan and groaned as he returned his stellar iron pendant to its usual spot. He shoved the pan off the table with a note to recycle it later and returned to the red crystal. So, not just a measurement…a magic capacitor, as well. Perhaps one that only responded to otherworldly magic. And could actively drain it, or cause feedback, if Danny was any indication. But why would he want to create something that could do that? Would there be some sort of dangerous magic in the future that would need to be contained? The faerie hiding spell…the Fomor’s plan to drown New Orleans…maybe something of Chesterfield’s…okay, there were a lot of options there. A thought struck him–if the crystal was only intended to contain otherworldly or otherwise dangerous magic, it wouldn’t need the multimeter. It would just need to be a giant crystal to be as much of a magic sink as possible. Could he use it the other way? To power something? On a lark, he fished up some test leads and a piece of mechanical pencil lead, stuck the leads to the crystal, reconfirmed the location of the fire extinguisher, then gingerly clipped the other ends of the test lead on the graphite. The graphite immediately lit up a brilliant, molten orange as power ran through it. Gorden quickly disconnected the leads before something else caught fire. He had a pretty good idea what it was capable of. Now where had it come from? His future self had given it to him, but where had he sourced it? Tulane had a lot of old equipment in the backrooms, but he was pretty sure the dial multimeter wasn’t one of them. He took a picture of it with his phone–half for records, half to see if the stored magic energy would affect the picture quality–and then flipped over to Junior’s speed dial. “Y’ello,” Junior said after a few rings. “Hey, Junior, it’s Gorden!” Gorden answered. “Sorry it’s so late but I had a question, and it’s gonna sound a little weird so bear with me.” He breathed in and wondered about the possibility of some all-destroying time paradox, but decided that as long as he didn’t actually bring the thing to Junior’s house, there couldn’t be that much harm in it. “Do you have anything in the house that, uh, kinda looks like a pocket watch or a steam gauge, says ‘volts’ and ‘milliamps’ on it?” “...you talking about a multimeter?” Junior asked. “I mighta had one in the barn once upon a time but it would’ve got left behind when we had to run. Lost all my carpentry tools, the wrenches and the hammers, everything. Could probably find a nice new one at one of those automobile shops you’ve got nowadays.” “Yeah, that’s it,” Gordon nodded, even though obviously Junior couldn’t see it. As he continued to talk he looked around for some gloves to not handle the powerful and potentially explosive magic crystal with bare hands. “And I can get lots of multimeters, either buying one at R– S– or just checking one out from the lab, but they’re all digital ones. I was looking to get something electro-mechanical for…reasons, and you’re the first person I thought of for that.” “What, ‘cause I’m old?” He started to laugh at his own observation. “Sorry Gorden, anything old enough that I might’ve used it like that, you’re going to have to find at the junk sellers or an antique stand. You know what? I’m actually curious now, cause I’d have hexed that sorta thing if I wasn’t careful back in my day. Wonder if I still would…” “I mean, someone else would ask me if I was getting into steampunk,” Gorden defended himself lamely. So his future self didn’t source it from Junior. Maybe from his old house, but not him directly. “Though now I’m wondering how you can hear me since I’m calling you on a cellphone.” He made a brief note about the hexing in his grimoire. “Anyway…” he looked at the multimeter again. “...if I find one for the project I’m working on, maybe I’ll bring it over and see if you hex it?” “I’m not anywhere near your phone, so I don’t know how I’d be hexing that. I’m also not doing any magic right now so my phone’s mostly safe. It’s what Ruby calls a ‘land-line’, it’s supposed to be alright because it’s older, for this time, though it’s still newer’n me… Honestly I don’t know how you haven’t blown your new-fangled phone to smithereens yet, must just be lucky. Er, if you find one, I wouldn’t mind taking a crack at it but make sure you don’t need it no more first since if I hex it… well, I s’pose you could fix it, probably. Is that how you keep your phone working? You un-hex it after you fry it?” “Honestly? My phone’s never been hexed. At least not on my end. I’ve gotten plenty of dropped calls, but I had those before the magic stuff came out.” Again Gorden shrugged even though Junior couldn’t see him. “Although now I’m going to be paranoid about breaking this thing,” he joked. “Thanks.” “Anytime,” Junior said. “I’m serious about those junk shops though, you can find all sorts of useful old things.” “I’ll definitely check them out,” responded Gorden, suddenly realizing he might need to make the crystal from scratch in order to return and give it to himself…and realizing that Danny’s old mansion had signage out front saying it was an antiques store, and he had a business card from James’ store as well. “And I think I know a couple of places to start.”
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Jul 6, 2022 22:57
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Gems, Guardians, and G. Maxwells Scene: the New Orleans Library “Why do all these industrial areas look the same?” Gorden mumbled as he checked his notes again for the Library’s address. It was probably a bad idea to drive while still tired, but it was already past noon and he’d lay on his bed for an hour already. Sleep just wasn’t happening. And a book about time paradoxes by “G. Maxwell”, when he’s already gotten one “gift” from the future? Far too coincidental. He finally confirmed that, yes, this was in fact the Library’s address and stepped out of the car. As he stepped out of the car he muttered “wait, poo poo,” and reached back in for a little velvet bag. It was advertised as a dice bag, but it carried crystals with jury-rigged magical measurement quite nicely. Grimoire, pendant, Elbridge’s deputy warden pin, and now a magic crystal…Gorden suddenly wished bags of holding were real. — Gorden rang the buzzer over the brass plaque that read LIBRARY in all caps, and a moment later Apprentice Brother William opened the door. “Oh, Mr. Maxwell! Good to see you again. Come in, come in.” Much like before he closed and quadruple-locked the door behind Gorden, but today the Indiana Jones gateway next to the desk was wide open. “We’ve a few other patrons inside at the moment, feel free to say hello… or not, as you like. Is there anything I can help you find?” “Hi again, brother William,” Gorden greeted as he stepped inside. “And maybe there’s something I can help you find. The first time I was here with Grace you asked me to deliver a package to Elbridge to help look for a lost book. And, well…” he shrugged. “...he’s pretty busy. Maybe I can help?” He flashed his deputy warden pin again, as if to say “I work for the guy.” “Oh. Er, so you’ve read the materials in the package, then?” William asked, optimistically. Crap, Gorden thought to himself. He barely remembered handing Elbridge the package at Ada’s place, and in between…everything that had happened there he wasn’t sure if he’d been able to sneak any good peeks. “I’m sure someone as organized as you keeps duplicate copies, for, you know, reference.” he managed out loud. “...well of course I do!” William said, just a little bit smugly. “You’ll be wanting the entire thing then.” “Whoo,” cheered Gorden, throwing his hands up–quietly, because it was a library. “I’ve lost too much stuff to computer crashes to not keep backups. Can we see it all now?” “Well, I can’t let this copy leave the Library since it IS the backup,” William said. “But if you just want to examine the documents… Has the Warden asked you to handle this case all by yourself? It’s just, it might be a bit difficult for someone who isn’t well-acquainted with magic, or robberies, or magical robberies.” “Elbridge has been busy with…” The Fomor, the warlocks of Tulane, Ada’s stuff, James’ stuff, faeries, Fates... “...a lot. I guess he figured a stolen book was comparatively kiddie pool for someone who’s been in university stacks for a while.” “There was an assault,” William said flatly. “We’ve tried to be as accommodating as possible to the Warden’s schedule, but if he’s too busy to handle his caseload then he shouldn’t take favors in trade. Those golem parts were worth rather a lot.” He was starting to get angry. “Please, sit down and I’ll go get the copies. However, I do hope you’re aware that this is highly irregular, and frankly, unprofessional.” “It almost sounds like you want the guy to clone himself,” Gorden noted uneasily as he looked for a reading desk. “Look, I’m his representative, I got a Warden pin, an apprenticeship, everything. Everything I pull out of this he’ll know, and it’s easier to keep you in the loop this way. Collaboration, you know?” William sighed, giving up for the moment. If all he was going to get was Gorden, it was better than the ‘no one’ he’d gotten for the last six months. He wave Gorden to follow him inside the round security door, past the lion statue- The statue let out a grinding, stone growl the moment Gorden entered, and stood up, taking a threatening step towards him. “What the–” Gordon stammered as the statue suddenly decided he looked like a stone antelope. “Hey, kitty, kitty…” He tried to make his voice sound like he was addressing the dorm cat rather than a lion that could crush him. After a moment’s thought he reached gingerly for his wallet and pulled out his bloodstained plastic library card. “I’ve been here already, come on…” The lion wasn’t impressed. It continued to growl, nosing forward like one of those drug-sniffing dogs at the airport when it smelled contraband. It was put together very much like Eriol had been, if he looked closely at it, just stone instead of gold. Apprentice-brother William watched with some confusion, but he didn’t stop the lion from doing its job. “...er, you haven’t brought any weapons with you, have you? Or anything else dangerous?” “I had these things on me the last time I was here and he let me through,” Gorden managed as he put a sturdy looking reading table between himself and the lion. “Book, pendant, Warden pin…” he said as he put the items on the table. “...there’s this thing, but it’s not a weapon,” he shrugged as he slipped out the velvet dice bag, watching the lion’s reaction. As soon as the bag came into view, the lion lunged- and froze, mid-leap as William brandished a marble rod at it and shouted: “Megall!” It fell out of the air and the building shook slightly when it landed, still in the leaping pose. “Well, whatever it is, our security system thinks it’s a threat,” William said, concerned. “What… is it?” “It’s a…capacitor, a battery,” Gorden answered, trying to sound more confident in the answer than he was. He pulled out the multimeter end first. “I’ve been looking over this thing all night, and I haven’t blown up yet, so it’s not a bomb or anything. Though I guess any battery could be a bomb if you short it wrong…” he trailed off unhelpfully. “I don’t think that our golems are that unintelligent. They don’t usually get upset by batteries. Unless…” William thought for a moment. “Well, unless they’re storing some sort of energy that’s on the ban list, I suppose? Do you know what it’s got in it?” “Yeah, it’s got my magic in it; I’ve been working on it all night, like I said,” Gorden responded, a little shortly. “And my book and my necklace have that too, but he didn’t jump on me when I brought those in the first time.” “Or this time,” William agreed, pointing to Gorden’s things on the table. The lion hadn’t given a single sniff to any of them. “Look, whatever it is, that’s your business, but I’d like to know if the lion malfunctioned or if it’s actually something that shouldn’t be brought in here, that’s all. If you’d rather just leave it behind the front desk…” “Do you have lockers? I can leave it, I just…don’t get why he’s so interested in it.” William shook his head at the mention of lockers. “Maybe if you let me see it I could tell you?” “Okay…” Gorden said tentatively as he pulled off the velvet bag. If Gorden had been afraid that William would recognize the red gem and try to snatch it away or something similar… he was disappointed. “Hmm,” the scholar said, taking a few steps closer to get a better look at it. “Is it supposed to be glowing like that?” “Like I said, it’s stuffed with my magic right now. I wouldn’t touch it directly, though–I had it in the bag for a reason.” “What’s it made of? It’s not a ruby, I can tell you that much. And I can’t think of a magical stone off hand that stores energy…” “I think it’s a synthetic crystal? It’s an improvised thing–that’s why the multimeter’s clipped onto it there. Someone’s experiment, a project.” “...someone’s?” William asked, tilting his head. He squinted at the stone for another moment, watching the shadows dance inside it. “I’m not so sure about it being synthetic, though. Let me get a book on the subject. Er, after I get the case files for you, that is. Just… stay at this table, alright? It wouldn’t be good for you to upset the other guardians while I’m not there.” “Yeah, that’d…be a good idea,” Gorden assented as he moved his things to the table. He weighed putting the crystal back into the dice bag, but decided keeping it out in the open and obviously not being manipulated would keep the stone lion from jumping him. The lion, for its part, didn’t move a muscle. It was still inactive after whatever William’s command word had done to it. About ten minutes went by in aching slowness before William reappeared around a corner, carrying a small stack of papers. “Here you go! Sorry the ink’s still wet on a few of them, the copy-quill was acting up.” He shrugged, as though the copy-quill always acted up. “Now I’m going to go find some literature on magic stones, so just shout if you need something.” Gorden had somehow convinced himself to engage in a staring contest with a statue before William came back. He blinked a few moments before turning to William. “Thanks, and don’t worry, I’ve had toner issues before. I know how to handle wet ink.” He set the sheets out individually on the table as Will went to look for “Magic Crystals for Dummies”, and with one last tentative glance at the lion, pulled over his grimoire and sat down to read. After he was gone, Gorden realized what he’d been given was… the next best thing to a police report. It detailed the events of June 20th, 2012, the night something called “The Ripple” had occurred, which had apparently caused a lot of property damage all over the city. Parts of the report were written by Apprentice Brother William, but there was also another name signed here and there that wrote in a different hand, a ‘Brother Alan’. It was this one that had penned most of the original report. Brother Alan’s Account posted:At sundown the bell tolling drove the lions berserk. Or at least something triggered by the bell’s tolling. We were never able to identify what. Apprentice Brother William managed to escape before the lockdown initiated on the main security door but I was trapped inside. I went to use the control rod to calm the lions when I was attacked from behind. Someone hit me over the head- I could only see a shadow, not their face. I woke up hours later in the broom closet, having been rescued by two of the Warden’s deputies after William called for help. The books in the Restricted Section had been reshelved, completely out of order, in what could only be a direct attempt to conceal that one or more of them had been taken. However, the most dangerous books were all quickly accounted for, and it will take weeks to reorganize the section. Oh, and the control rod for the lions is still missing too. Apprentice Brother William’s Account posted:I was near the portal when the lions went crazy and got out just in time, but Brother Alan was trapped inside. I called the Warden’s Office for help and while Warden Cole was busy elsewhere he sent two deputies, Wizard Singh and Miss Hirsch, to assist with the problem. They were able to break through the security door and rewrite the instruction tablets on the lions to put them to sleep. Brother Alan was locked in the broom closet- from the outside, notably. I took him to the hospital afterwards, he had a mild concussion from being hit on the head, but was otherwise unhurt. All of our defensive wards had been disabled and the Restricted Section was a great mess. But unlike the last break-in, no books had been damaged. Wizard Singh suggested it might be an inside job, but the only people working here at the time were me and Brother Alan, and even if he had knocked himself on the head I don’t know how he’d have locked himself in the closet afterwards. I’m convinced it wasn’t either of us, but I can’t imagine who it might be. Maybe once we find out which book was taken we’ll have more clues. Addendum posted:We’ve finally determined the missing title! It’s The Time Fractal Paradox, written by G. Maxwell, published by W.C.PUB in 2042. The Ripple… Gorden tapped his pen on the word. That would have been what brought Junior and his family to the present. Elbridge had talked about that, about how events like that were why time magic was considered such a risk to the world. But who would take advantage of a…timey wimey ball to steal from a library? The part with the actual book title was definitely written later, and if Gorden had been drinking any coffee as he read the title he’d have shot it across the reading desk. Even though he’d always known that he wanted to publish something all nice and formal to integrate his magic and the physics of the early universe, the “surprise” in seeing the title to go with his name was the publication date. There was something reassuring about seeing the date 30 years on; it meant he wasn’t going to die and the world wasn’t going to come to an end in that time. He was definitely going to have to survive everything the Fomor and Chesterfield and everyone else could throw at him now.
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Jul 7, 2022 21:55
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Magical Mineralogy “Hey, new guy!” said a familiar voice, interrupting his train of thought. When he looked up, Anna, the woman who’d run the pizza party, was a few rows over, waving at him. William HAD said there were some other patrons today. “Gorden, right? I see you found the Library. How’ve you been, man?” “Hm?” He looked up from his notes. “Oh, hey Anna,” Gorden answered when he recovered his wits. “Yeah, Mama Laveau gave me the address to translate some fae runes. I’m working on something else right now, though.” Was the theft public knowledge? The missing book had come from the restricted section. And here he was reading the accounts in the open. As if moving with the reactions of a sloth, he sheepishly turned over the papers in front of him. Anna crossed over to his table in a few quick strides, genuinely happy to see him. “Oho! Anything fun? Or has old man Hardley got you runnin’ errands?” She didn’t even look at the papers, but a second later she noticed the Guardian Lion frozen in mid leap. “Er… what pissed HIM off?” “Kinda…half and half,” Gorden said equivocally. He’d picked this up of his own accord, and Brother William wanted Warden help, so it was absolutely true. “Yeah, por que no los dos. And the lion, uh…from what I’ve heard, after what happened a while back, maybe he’s just sensitive to time magic. I was here with someone else before, and he didn’t get like this then.” “Weird,” Anna said. She didn’t sound like she disbelieved him, though. “Oh well. I’m just here looking up some old property rights stuff. Few of the ghosts in No. 2 have been worried the city’s going to do some kind of renovation project and mess the graveyards up.” She shook her head. “Won’t be the first time I’ve had to go knock on some heads at city hall, won’t be the last. Did ya need any help with… whatever that’s about?” An extra brain to bounce things off of would be very helpful, but Gorden really wasn’t sure whether being a deputy warden meant he could share possibly secret stuff around. The crystal was potentially more dangerous, but the only person keeping him from sharing that was himself. And Anna did know Mama LeVeau. “I think I’ll take all the help I can,” he finally answered. “I’d be a crappy grad student if I didn’t. Are you up on magic crystals?” “Only as a hobbyist,” Anna said, with the tone of a woman who took her hobbies very seriously. “Why? Did you find a neat one?” “Hobby is good. Maybe better; it means you love what you’re learning,” Gorden nodded as he moved the velvet dice bag front and center. Making sure to hold it by the velvet, he pushed the crystal out for Anna to see. “Look like anything you know?” “Huh,” Anna said, peering closely at it. “Red, with a black inner shadow… and glowing. Do you know any of its properties? Like, does it give off heat or cold or make you delusional or uh… let’s go with ‘aroused’?” “It seems to absorb magic and release it,” Gorden answered, “sometimes…uncommanded. It melted through my toaster oven tray…but, uh, I don’t think it’s had any mental effects.” He thought about it for a moment. “Well…actually, I had a bit of a weird dream when I was looking it over, but I thought that was too much coffee and not enough sleep. You know how it is, right? When you’ve been up too long and things get loopy?” Her eyes flicked up to him suspiciously. “Did it feel like an ordinary coffee and insomnia dream? Or more like you were someone else? Or somewhere else? Like a… a hosed up hallucination.” Gorden blinked. “I did have claws in the dream. And it was very…vivid. A lot more so than a ‘fell asleep after seeing a bad movie’ kind of dream. Like I was a…a demon or a werewolf or something that really wanted to hurt someone.’” “So… that sounds a lot like a Tear of Lythe,” Anna said. She glanced at the guardian lion for a moment. “Which would explain why HE got all hot and bothered too. It’s… pretty bad juju. I’ve never seen one in person before.” “But you can tell them on sight, so that’s better than me,” Gorden answered, suddenly wondering if he should have gone to the university hospital and grabbed a container for radionuclides. “Er, I had it in my room for a while. Is this a ‘drop and run’ thing?” “That would be irresponsible,” Anna said matter-of-factly. “Even if it was.” “Even if what was?” Brother William asked, as he reappeared from behind a shelf, with a book titled ‘Mystical Crystals: the Beautiful, the Practical, and the Dangerous’ in his hands. “The crystal I mentioned earlier, and hi again, Brother William,” Gorden responded, less smoothly than he’d have liked. “Anna knows what it is, so now we know what to look for in that book. Set it down on the table so we can all see.” He did so, and there was, in fact, a page on Tears of Lythe… in the ‘Dangerous’ chapter of the book, of course. The example picture showed a crystal that looked extremely similar to the one in his bag, with the major exception that it had been faceted and shaped into an ornate knife blade. Mystical Crystals posted:Tears of Lythe are not in fact, precious stones, but more akin to demonic amber. They are formed from the calcified life-blood of a high ranking demon of violence. (Tears being something of a misnomer, unless one considers a mortal wound to ‘weep’.) Weapons made from this material have the property of absorbing magical energy, a property inherited from the demons it comes from. This stored energy does not leak in any way, and is in fact jealously guarded by the blood. Two sentences had been partially highlighted in bright yellow, (a fact that Apprentice Brother William groaned over before he even read the text.) “...well, crap.” Gorden managed as he read the text. The blood of a high ranking demon–where would his older self even come across something like that?! “‘...valuable material for weapons…’” he continued muttering, noting the decidedly un-weapon-like shape of the crystal-with-multimeter, and the un-pierced skin on his hand, even though had nevertheless decided to try sucking out his magic through his stellar iron pendant. “So this thing is a ‘cursed’ magic capacitor. Made from demons. I…that…” He thought of safety procedure after safety procedure drilled into his head to use the university labs, and how much of that his older self would have had to throw out to willingly make something like what he’d poked and carried around. Suddenly the future didn’t seem quite so bright. “I can’t say I blame the lion for being upset,” Brother William said, giving the crystal a side-eye. “Where did you say you came by that nasty thing?” “If I said ‘in a restaurant back alley,’ would you believe it?” Gorden said, his voice suggesting that there was no way they would. If he didn’t have it he wouldn’t believe it himself, either. William and Anna looked at each other for a second, both extremely concerned but neither disbelieving. “Did you find it there, or did someone give it to you?” Anna asked. “This is really important, Gorden. If someone is handing out demonic crystals in New Orleans we need to find them and stop them. If someone’s just leaving them lying around that’s almost as bad… Warden Hardley needs to be told about this, immediately.” “Oh bloody…” William threw his hands up, exasperated. “One more thing to shovel onto his plate when he can barely bother sending a deputy to look into a robbery that happened last summer. This is why nothing ever gets done in this city, I swear to Thoth. Did you even get a chance to read the report, Gorden? What did you think of it?” “It was given to me,” Gorden nodded emphatically. This he was certain of. Elbridge…he was his teacher, but he was also a warden, and did he really want to walk up to him with incontrovertible proof that someone, probably himself, had been throwing things upstream in time? “And while I can’t really remember who gave it to me…” He swung the report back to Brother William, finger pointed easily but noticeably at the name of the author of the missing book. “...maybe I can guess.” William turned a shade whiter than his already pasty complexion. “Th-that’s…” “Yeah? Who?” Anna asked. She hadn’t seen the report. “Connected to some confidential matters,” William said shortly. “Better if you aren’t involved, Anna, you know how messy these things get.” Anna regarded him coolly, then turned to Gorden, crossing her arms. “You wouldn’t even know what that thing was if it wasn’t for me, you really going to cut me out now?” “You did, and thanks for the collaboration!” Gorden turned back to her, smiled and nodded. “That said, this seems to involve some, uh…” With a shrug, he whistled a few bars from the opening to Doctor Who. “And I don’t want to have El calling you in an…official capacity.” “Is that supposed to be a threat?” she asked. “Fine, keep your secrets, see if I point out your new toy’s going to eat your soul next time.” She left in a huff. “It wasn’t a threat, I just don’t want someone else to–!” Gorden stammered as Anna turned and left. “Crap.” He slumped in his chair. William mopped his brow with a genuine handkerchief and sighed. “It’s not common knowledge that we keep a shelf of hypothetical works, and I’d like to keep it that way. You really think your mysterious stone is connected to the case somehow?” “This kind of improvisation with a multimeter is exactly the kind of bullshit I’d try,” Gorden managed in a muffled tone, still having his head between his hands. “And now there’s a second thing in the here and now by future-me? Yeah, I think they’re connected.” William nodded worriedly. “Future-you seems to be making this entire affair needlessly complicated, if you ask me. I suppose I should apologize for being so curt earlier, though. You may be exactly the man for this job after all. Do you have any idea where to go next?” “I think I do,” Gorden finally said as he lifted up his head. He looked to the crystal again, and the very machined, very human multimeter attached to it. “I’d like to follow up on the other half of this thing…”
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Jul 7, 2022 21:58
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This Is Fate Scene: The End of the World Ruby was gone now. She’d vanished all too soon, like a fleeting dream, the smile on her face as she went still etched in Ada’s mind. She was once again alone at the End of the World, watching the waves, but this time, all the pressure from before was gone. The waves were just the waves, the wind was just the wind, and her cheeks were still flushed. The time for big decisions had come and gone. Now there was just…after. She still had other things to take care of, but not yet. Not yet, she thought. Right now, all she wanted to do was stay here, away from the world, watching the seconds go by and committing the moment they’d just shared together to memory. As she basked in the moment, Ada spotted a small boat, racing down the canal in the distance. It was white with a single red stripe down the side, a shallow draft pleasure boat that was around twenty feet long. As it drew nearer, Ada could make out a tall woman at the helm. She looked a little familiar, somehow…squinting, Ada focused on her, and was suddenly gripped by a deeply, deeply ominous feeling. It can’t actually be her, can it? She thought. The timing can’t possibly be this bad, there’s no way. But as the boat drew nearer there could be no other conclusion. The woman was dressed in black from head to toe, pearls gleaming at her waist. She had aviators on over her blindfold, and a wide brimmed hat tied down around her chin by a silk ribbon to keep it from flying off in the wind. As the boat approached the levee it slowed, the engine thrumming deeply as it switched into idling mode. For a moment, Ada just stared at Lachesis of the Fates, unwilling to believe in what she was seeing. And then, it clicked, and she couldn’t help but let out a helpless, disbelieving laugh. Every time, she thought. Every single time. At least I didn’t wake up straight into bad news for a change, but man…if this is how it’s gonna be going forwards, I may have to take a vow of chastity. You can’t make this up. Outwardly, she raised an arm in greeting, then stood up, slipping back into her role. Fate had come calling. It was time to answer the proverbial knock on her door. “Nice outfit. Really stylish. I didn’t know you went for modern fashions.” “I live for them, really,” Lachesis said, taking the sunglasses off and setting them on the shelf next to the wheel. She pushed a button and a small gangplank automatically unfolded on the side of boat, clunking gently onto the scrub grass and providing a path. “Please, join me. My Olive Branch has all the amenities. We might as well be comfortable here at the End of the World.” “Finally someone who can have fun with the name.” Maybe it was the lingering good humour from the sheer absurdity of the coincidence that had just struck twice, but Ada couldn’t keep herself from grinning as she came aboard. “It’s so grandiose that it just feels nice to say it. I don’t know who came up with it, but I appreciate that they had such a flair for the dramatic.” Reaching the deck, she managed a small curtsey. “The ship’s name goes well with the location, by the way.” “Why thank you, I named it myself,” Lachesis said, producing a wine bottle and two fluted glasses from a small wooden cooler built into the console. “That dress suits you well,” she added, sitting down on one of the plush, waterproof benches and gesturing for Ada to sit on the one across from her. She poured the wine (it was red, very dark) and offered Ada one of the flutes. “Thank you. It was about time I started cleaning up a little,” she said as she accepted the glass. “Sportswear’s all well and good, but it doesn’t fit who I’m trying to be as much anymore.” For a moment, she wondered if there were any rules against accepting food and drink from personifications the way there were against the fairies. Then, she shrugged and took a sip. If Lachesis wanted to visit misfortune upon her, there were far, far easier ways to go about it. “Did you manage to sort out that business you talked about? It sounded like it was a handful.” “I did, yes. It was… mostly just tedious duck-counting. Making sure that playing with this particular string doesn’t have too many knock-on effects later, that sort of thing.” She crossed her legs and sipped delicately at her wine. “Euterpe might genuinely care for this mortal… but she could have also had other reasons to ask me to change their fate, and I don’t like surprises.” Ada frowned. “That’s…one of the muses, isn’t it? What was it…music, I think? Does this have to do with inspiring an artist?” she ventured. “You know your history,” Lachesis said, smiling. “Indeed, it does. This one’s quite talented, but her fate lies elsewhere. A small life, cut short, easily forgotten. She’s already given up on her dreams. Euterpe asked me to find someone who can reignite her passion for song.” “No pressure, huh…” she murmured. Inspiring people was her wheelhouse, but it was usually pro bono work, for lack of a better term -- and something that arose naturally. Doing it on contract could be very different, for all she knew. “Who’s the target, then?” “Marguerite Nunez, better known by her stage name, Miss Magnolia,” Lachesis said, all business. She lifted one of the seats and found a manilla envelope which she passed to Ada. “That has her picture, her address, and a few other tidbits. Nothing you couldn’t find online, honestly.” “It hasn’t been that long since I lost my magic. This’ll save me a bunch of time,” she said, a note of gratefulness in her voice as she picked up the envelope. “Trawling through the Internet isn’t something I’m totally used to yet.” She opened the envelope to take a look at the details, and fell silent for a moment. “Hmm. I’ve got two questions. First, how important is it to maintain secrecy? Will it be an issue if she finds out who’s in her corner?” “I’m not involved in ANY of this,” Lachesis said flatly. “The instant my name comes up the whole thing gets called off, no exceptions.” “I wouldn’t dream of advertising your involvement,” Ada said, nodding slowly. “I was thinking moreso of Euterpe herself. It’s not every day you get to tell someone that one of the patron deities of their discipline thinks they’ve got what it takes to make the big time.” “That would make it seem like she’s playing favorites. Which she is, but they try not to make it too obvious.” Lachesis sighed. “She didn’t request secrecy from me, but having chased Marguerite's thread myself I doubt that naming Euterpe would be particularly effective.” At Lachesis’ words, Ada’s ears perked up a little. This was important information. Maybe it was worth digging a little deeper… “So it’s not a matter of losing confidence, then. Has to be something else. Maybe burnout, or giving up on the dream for someone else’s sake. You said that her life’s gonna be cut short if she abandons her path. Is there any connection between her death and her decision to abandon her career, or is it just an unlucky accident?” “Locational,” Lachesis said. “If she remains here, instead of becoming more traveled. I can’t share too many details, as they aren’t yet fixed, but very likely.” “Oh.” Given the context of Lachesis’ answer, there were two likely reasons for Miss Magnolia’s eventual demise: either a natural disaster…or a man-made one. Most likely one she might be responsible for, if indirectly. Silence fell between them for a few moments before Ada spoke up again. “I’ll see what I can do then. Even setting the job aside, I can’t just stand by and do nothing now that I know she’ll die if things keep on going like this. So this actually leads to the second question I had in mind earlier.” She drew a deep breath. “Why am I capable of doing this, anyway?” “If I said it was your fate, would you believe me?” Lachesis asked, coyly. That actually got Ada thinking. Eventually, however, she shook her head. “No. It makes no sense that somebody’s fate might be to break anyone else’s. That’s just taking a roundabout path to the destination you planned to get to all along.” She bit her lip, deep in thought. “It’s like a circle I can’t square. I’m not fateless, I’m pretty sure of that much, but then how did I manage to break Rick’s fate? Or Eriol’s? Their cases weren’t like Ruby’s, there was no time magic involved to send things off-course. And since I don’t know why it happened, I don’t have an actual plan to reach my objective.” She huffed. “If anyone told me to just go in and do what I do best, I’d laugh them out of the room. It’s annoying to be doing something I don’t really understand.” “Time magic has nothing to do with it,” Lachesis said, with a small laugh. “You aren’t fateless either. In fact, your thread thickens with each passing day. But Mr. Hardley asked me much the same question, and so I will ask you what I asked him. What is fate, to you? Or destiny, if you prefer?” “Mmm.” It was a good question. When most people thought of fate, they imagined it as something irrevocable, a thing that would happen, no matter what anyone thought about it. But most people hadn’t seen fate break by their own actions. So what is it, really, if it’s not actually enforced by…the world, or the gods, or whoever else might be capable of pulling the strings? “It has to be something that can break. So it’s not like reality, or physics, or anything like that. But I don’t think it’s who a person is either…I mean, in the way they define themselves. I didn’t change Ruby or Rick’s minds on who they wanted to be, and I couldn’t have done it for Eriol even if I’d wanted to.” Ada murmured, drumming her fingers against the console. “Eriol?” Lachesis asked. “The little doggie? Oh…” She burst out laughing suddenly. “Oh! I suppose I did imply that… Let me clarify: The fate of import was that of King Midas. Gilding the doggie gave him hope when he was meant to have none, and eventually repent of his arrogance. He has certainly been taking his time about it, though.” “...Huh. That…makes sense,” Ada said, tilting her head quizzically as she spoke. “I was wondering why a dog’s fate was such a strike against me. But if it was all about changing an ancient immortal’s fate…that’s another story.” Lachesis was still laughing. “I apologize, I got lost in the theatrics. But go on, go on.” “It’s OK,” Ada said, pausing her drumming to nod firmly in Lachesis’ direction. “It all still made sense anyway. But hmm…” This changed things. Better to try to run down the list again and see if there were any newfound similarities first. “So Midas’ fate probably broke when I showed him there was a chance to get Zoë back. And I bet Ruby’s fate broke when she became distinct from Emma, either when I talked her off the ledge or when we found a way for her to change her past. But there wasn’t really anything like that for Rick.” Her brow furrowed. “He still acted the same way he always has. Nothing about him changed. He just outlived the plans everyone had for him.” She thought back, back to that night at the Superdome, months ago. She’d been bombarded by visions, and in most of them, Rick died. But the visions made no sense. They projected impossible scenarios, things that never played out as expected, from the get-go. A confrontation with him outside the Superdome, the death of Hugues amidst flames that never actually existed… “...It couldn’t have been that night I got the wrong visions, then,” she muttered. “That wasn’t the moment his fate broke, it was the moment his fate was confirmed broken. But if not then, when? The other two fates broke when they found a different path. A different…path…” She thought back to the conversations she’d had with him, the times they’d done things together. When she’d told him no one trusted the Warden…the moment she’d asked him to stay back as she went into hell, chasing Jenny…no, that wasn’t it. Once Upon A Crime, Long, Long Ago… posted:"Cole." Ada said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "We need to talk." She gasped. “That’s it. That’s it!” The memories flooded back, as clear as yesterday of his confusion, his shame, his anger, his desperation, his voice… A Man Lost to Despair posted:"You want some responsibility, Ada? Tell me then, who dies? That girl will kill the first person she sees when she comes to. She'll have no control over it. That is what she is. Do I let her do that? Do I let you take her to a hospital, where she'll kill a nurse, or a doctor, or god forbid the patient in the room with her? Do we leave her there behind the couch with those two men and walk away? Or do I finish her now, and end the life of a monster? There is no right answer in the real world. And don't you dare think you can walk away from this clean. It's on me? You're right. The lives of everyone in this city are on my head. And you four are all I have. So tell me, Ada, tell me what I should do. Because I. DONT. KNOW." “That day at the nightclub, he didn’t think there was another way. He thought he had no choice but to be a worse man than he actually was. But I didn’t let him do that.” She spoke quickly, trying to get the idea out into the open before she lost its thread. “I grabbed him by the lapels and reminded him that he was better than that. That we were better than that. Rick’s fate…it broke at Diamond Skies, didn’t it? The first time I refused to let him be who he thought he had to be.” “A very interesting question,” Lachesis said. Her smile was almost predatory as she set her empty wine glass down on the floor next to the bottle. “Shall we look and see?” “How? I can’t—” she began, but then she realized that she was talking to one of the sisters of fate, and that complications would not be a problem. “Right,” she said, nodding firmly. “I’m ready. How do we do it?” “There’s nothing to prepare for, dear. It’s right here,” Lachesis said, spreading her spidery fingers. A tangled red string stretched between them. It thinned towards the middle, knotted and frayed, until near the very end, it turned silver, and straightened again. “I will not show you the other two, before you ask, and neither of them have snarled like this. This is… a special kind of breaking. Touch the very first knot, there,” she held it up for Ada. “Where the thread is thinnest.” The hairs on the back of Ada’s neck stood on end. This was dangerous, she knew it instinctively. Forbidden territory. Something mortals weren’t supposed to see so clearly…but that was all the more reason she couldn’t refuse. Who else will get a chance like this if I don’t take it? It’s a gift. I’d be stupid not to accept it. Carefully, hesitantly, she raised a single finger, and pressed it against the knot.
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Jul 7, 2022 21:59
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The Tipping Point Scene: Diamond Skies, one year ago Veronica Raith straightened and spoke out in a voice as clear as day. "Antoine Skavis is your demon summoner." He let go of the magic, panting with the exertion. Finally! A name! There was a muffled crack from inside the vampire’s body, like a bone breaking somewhere deep. What…? She lurched forwards, into his arms. He caught her reflexively, pulling her up, supporting her. But her body was as limp as a puppet with cut strings. Her open eyes stared into his without recognition. Lifeless. Empty. A geas. He put a geas on her. That’s why she wouldn’t talk. Oh gently caress oh gently caress oh gently caress- "I swore, but you didn't, Cole,” JR said. “Kill her, and I'll make sure the other one is dead. We can stop these from feeding off of any more humans at least." He stood there, frozen on the spot, still holding the dead woman- Vampire. Dead vampire. -in his arms. JR gave Niall’s corpse a kick. Make sure? She poisoned him. He’s dead. That’s what they do. They kill us. They kill each other. They’re animals.They don’t die for each other. They use each other, sure. They act like they care, that’s how they get close enough to kill us. It’s always an act. Veronica’s dead eyes bored into him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He closed them with shaking fingers and sat her down in the chair. Tucked her hair behind her ear, like she’d had it just a moment ago. Olivia’s pained wheezes boomed like thunder in his ears. It’s just an act. "Cole." Ada said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "We need to talk." It was so absurd he could have laughed. About what? It’s done, or it’s about to be. He’s right. I didn’t swear. I’m the Warden. It's my responsibility. “JR, put the gun away,” he said aloud. "Rubeansidhe, how are the poison victims?" Job’s not done. Focus. Think later. Ruby watched him, her eyes glittering. Weighing her options. "The vampire Niell has played his part and is dead. The mortal man will live, if I tend him for a time. He breathes still. I cannot aid you further, Wizard." Can’t? Or won’t? "This was a set up from the beginning,” he said, bitterly. “The Skavis pull a coup while I'm here, pin the deaths on me. Even if I walk away they can get me pulled out of the city and discredited, leaving them plenty of time for their ritual." Ruby smiled, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "It would have worked splendidly, had you come alone. I am impressed, Wizard. They will still try to shift the blame to you, of course." "Of course,” They’re vampires. “And what of your part in this?" "I was a guest of the Raiths. Niell thought to use me to frighten you. An error, on his part." His nostrils flared. Sure, blame it on the dead guy. He can’t argue. "And what is a Summer Sidhe doing guesting with the Raiths?" Ruby said nothing. He nodded. Yeah. Making deals. That’s what I thought. He was so tired, suddenly. I can’t trust her. Any of them. Vampires. Faeries. They’re all the same. Animals. "There are people trapped in that warehouse and we are going to get them out," he said numbly. There was a soft ringing in his ears, and the air in the room was stifling. Blood, wine, sweat, gunpowder. Veronica’s perfume, clinging to his skin where he’d held her. He wanted to throw up. Out. I have to get out of here. Right now. His eyes went to the stairwell, but his legs wouldn’t obey the sudden, panicked impulse. ”When you’re on assignment, there’s only you and your duty, Corporal,” Captain Bellworth’s voice boomed through his skull. Yes, Captain. He tried to hang onto the clarity he’d felt back then, in her unit. It was so much easier to just follow orders. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, still bound with the ‘peace’ ribbon. What a loving joke. He turned to the others. "A man is only as good as his word, JR. If you pull that trigger, you aren't who I thought you were. Go, get your equipment back. I'll take care of things here." No one moved an inch. I said I’d take care of it! Why isn’t anyone listening to me? Do I need to bark orders like a drill instructor to get any respect around here? Why won’t they just trust me? He pointed at the stairs, furious and humiliated. “GO.” "Fine, let her go then. And when you find the dead bodies, you'll know it's your fault and that I coulda stopped it, right here,” JR snapped. But he went. They all did. All except for Ada. — "This is on you," Ada said, jabbing a finger at him once they were alone. Her voice was coarse with outrage, like she’d swallowed sandpaper. "On all of you.” She kept going, but he wasn’t listening anymore. It doesn’t matter. We got the name. We’re going to save the city. What’s one dead vampire against thousands of other lives? She was going to die anyway. Just like her sister will. "I'm disgusted. Disgusted," Ada cut through the fog, her voice crackling with barely-contained anger. "And then we wonder why those bastards want to call down the wrath of God to cleanse this place. If this is how we're going to do things, maybe some of that holy judgment is needed after all." He grit his teeth, listening to her. You think just because you tagged along and threw a few blood lances that you’ve got any idea what war is like? You think these animals have any right to call down God’s judgment, after what they did to me- quote:He could hear the sound of water dripping. It was dark, and cold, and wet, and the bite on his neck bled and itched, and he was hungry, starving, and there was a woman, chained to the wall, wrapped up like a christmas gift, and the water was already up to her chin and she was going to die anyways. So why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he take… one… bite…? -to Rachel- quote:“Make it mean something,” she said, and then pushed off the ground and hurled herself at the vampire duke, sword first. He used the distraction to finish his portal and fell through the wet stone and into the Nevernever, leaving her behind, never once looking back. Leaving the woman he loved to die. For the Mission. You haven’t seen poo poo yet. You don’t know what they’ll do when they’ve got us by the balls instead of the other way around. God blesses JR’s bullets on the regular. I know whose side HE’s on. She opened her mouth to speak once again, but then she stopped, unable to find something more damning than her call for judgement, and shook her head. "This isn't right, Cole,” she said, her voice quiet and hurting, with no anger to it anymore. “We're supposed to fight monsters, not act like them. You wanna know what got all of this started? Fear. The entire supernatural world is so loving afraid of us. Of people like you and me. And after what I've seen just now, I'm not sure I can blame them." The spitfire who’d been screaming at him just a moment ago was gone. All she’d left behind was a tired girl, who looked like she’d aged a million years off fatigue, worry and betrayal. He looked down at the Rubeansidhe, who had also remained behind, tending gently to the poisoned guard. At Niall Raith, lying in a puddle of his own vomit, still staring sightlessly at the ceiling. You said you wanted peace, Niall. But there IS no peace. Not for you, or anyone like you. I’ll keep hunting you and hurting you until you’ve got to warn your kids to stay inside at night, like we do. Until you learn to leave us the gently caress alone. Ada knelt down beside Olivia, shaking her head. “I’m going to get her out of here. She’ll die if we leave her alone.” He crossed his arms and glared down at her. You know I can’t let you do that. She looked up at him, and just held his gaze and waited. Her face was empty. Of fear, of hope, of expectations. It didn’t bear answers, only questions. I’m still here. What will you do to me, if I won’t let you do this to her? It was intolerable. He kept on staring, as long as he could, but eventually, he turned away. When he did, Ada looked downwards, at the vampire in front of her, and closed her eyes. She looked so disappointed and tired. She heaved a heavy sigh, and it told him that the world had let her down, and she’d lost all faith in it. Not the world that let her down. Just me. "Promise me you won't pull yourself down to their level, Cole. You're the one who calls the shots here. The face we put forward, to outsiders and to ourselves." Her judgment cut deep, like a knife between his ribs. She sounded just like his father had, the night he’d run away from home. So fighting back is pulling myself down to their level? Defending myself, you, this whole damned city, is pulling myself down to their level? They’re vampires. They kill people, unless we kill them first. They’re animals! What don’t you get about this? Ada reached for the sword pin at her collar and held it up for him to see. The silver reflected the soft light of the room, taking on a reddish, bloody hue. "Promise me this won't become just a pretty little trinket, Warden. Because if it ever does, it means this cause isn't worth fighting for anymore." His hands clenched into fists and he took a step towards her, eyes fixed on the vampire before her, who he expected to go from helpless to a deadly threat any second. Olivia clutched at Ada’s knee with pale, blood-stained fingers. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her breaths came in gasps and starts. She was so scared. In so much pain. It’s just an act! But he could see that it wasn’t. See it with his own two eyes. Olivia’s other hand was outstretched, blindly reaching towards Veronica’s chair. The gasps were intercut with sobs. She knows. She’s not even conscious but she knows what Veronica did. What we made her do. What I made her do. The longer he watched Olivia, the more the crushing weight of realization set in, grinding all of his excuses to thin paste. I can’t pull myself down to their level. I’m already there. They’re afraid of me because I’m just as vicious and cruel as they are. Even to the ones who haven’t been. Ada clipped her pin back onto her collar and leaned over Olivia, touching her softly, whispering a spell to stem her bleeding. He stood there, still watching her, but his eyes weren’t seeing any of it. The high-pitched ringing was back, louder than ever, making it difficult to think straight. "Alright," Ada said, standing up with Olivia cradled in her arms. "The others are waiting. Let's go." That jolted him back to reality with a start. Not yet! I don’t know what to do yet! But he’d run out of time. If he didn’t say anything now, didn’t do something fast, she’d walk right past him. "You want some responsibility, Ada?" he snapped, finally finding his voice. "Tell me then, who dies? That girl will kill the first person she sees when she comes to. She'll have no control over it. That is what she is." He broke the peace ribbon binding his sword with a quick twist and drew it, moving to block her path. "Do I let her do that? Do I let you take her to a hospital, where she'll kill a nurse, or a doctor, or God forbid the patient in the room with her? Do we leave her there behind the couch with those two men and walk away?" He took three shaking steps towards her, his sword still pointed at the ground. "Or do I finish her now, and end the life of a monster? There is no right answer in the real world. And don't you dare think you can walk away from this clean. It's on me? You're right. The lives of everyone in this city are on my head. And you four are all I have. So tell me, Ada, tell me what I should do. Because ”I. DONT. KNOW." He was shouting so loudly by the end that his voice cracked with the strain of it. He’d run down every outcome already and none of them were good enough. She’d see that too, she had to. "You leave it up to me," Ada said, straightening confidently. "We go up, leave her in the back of the van, go rescue those people, and then you keep everybody else from doing something rash while I look for someone who can take care of her and won't fall for her wiles." "In other words...you do the right thing. And you choose to trust me." After a moment, Ada spoke again, her voice expectant. "Do you?" He’d almost believed her. Almost. But there’d been a second of hesitation before she laid out her plan, and when he examined it closely, it was only smoke and mirrors. Now it was his turn to be disappointed. He shook his head firmly. "Ada, that's not making a decision. That's putting the decision off. Leaving her like this is torture. If you chain her up so she can't feed, she'll go mad. No one can survive a reflexive White Court feeding." "There may be a way,” Ruby interrupted suddenly, tilting her head and fixing her bright blue eyes on Ada. He flushed and turned his head. To have had such an outburst in front of a Summer courtier was dangerous. But she’d been so quiet that he’d completely forgotten she was there. "Your second soul can sustain you through it, dear one,” Ruby continued. “Although you have sorely used her of late. It is a great risk." "My second…” Ada muttered. “What are you..." Suddenly, Ada flinched away, Olivia still in her arms as her green eyes went wide with fear. "No. No no no no no. We can't do that. She's hurt and alone. It’d be so cruel..." There was a slight waver in her eyes, and he could see her running through all the possibilities in her mind and coming up empty. Then, she started hyperventilating. "She's just a little girl!” She pleaded, her voice so desperate and scared that it was hard to believe it was the same Ada he was familiar with. “You can't be serious about offering her up to a vampire. There's got to be another way!” She raised Olivia up slightly, a crazed hope in her eyes. “Can't you help her like you helped me? Maybe that can stop her from freaking out." Ruby shook her head solemnly. “Her demon’s hunger will not be slaked by healing alone. It has spent too much of itself already.” Ada’s shoulders slumped. The light in her eyes went out, and she shrank upon herself, her grasp upon Olivia growing slack and unsteady. He took another step forwards, worried she was going to fall. Ada has a second soul? A little girl? He had a lot of questions, and this wasn’t the time for any of them. The important thing was that Ada had finally realized what it would cost to save Olivia. His grip tightened on his sword. And the price is too high. It’s easy when you ask someone else to pay- "It's not right." Once again, she was speaking. She was small, scared and wrung out, but she sounded exactly as she had when facing down demons and horrors that would’ve sent anyone else running for the hills. Steady. Determined. Unflinching. "We gave our word, and I'm going to keep it. I'll bear most of the burden. She doesn't need to get too involved in this." She made her way to the seat Niell had previously occupied and sat down, shifting her posture to raise Olivia’s upper body so it’d be closer to hers. "I don't know how to go about this…” she said, putting a hand to Olivia’s cheek. “Guess I'll have to improvise." "I'm not letting you do this," he said, sheathing his sword. It’s not going to work! Even with two souls you could still die! But before he could take another step, Ruby was there, blocking his path. She was barely taller than his belt, but she radiated the warm heat of Summer magic like a tiny sun, and the searing fury in her eyes could have set all the candles in the room ablaze. He pulled up short, denied passage by those twin flames. "YOU will NOT interfere. This was her decision, a decision you forced upon her." Ruby's blonde hair flew off her shoulders, as though whipped by an invisible gale. "Go to your men, Wizard. I will watch over her." "Like hell I will,” he snapped, trying to find a way around her. “I won't leave her alone like this!" Ruby laughed in his face, matching his every step. "She is NOT alone. She never has been. You claimed a duty to the people of this city, go and fulfill it. You can do no good here." She means it. Every word. But it’s not going to work! No one can survive that! What if Olivia needs three souls, or four? What if Ada’s second soul isn’t strong enough to handle this? It’s not going to work. Because… ...because it never works. And everything… stopped. It never works. How hard you try doesn’t matter. How much you want it doesn’t matter. What you’re willing to pay for it… that’s the only thing that does. You just have to keep building a wall out of lesser evils until you can’t even see the other side, because there’s never a right answer, and all you’ve got to show for it are the bodies of your friends who tried to find one because they couldn’t take it anymore. And one day that’s going to be- "It's not your time yet. Can you hear me? She wants you to stay here, still. Wake up.” It was Ada’s voice, coming in as a gentle, tender murmur, that brought him out of the black abyss. But her words weren’t for him. “Wake up now, Olivia." I can't let her do this. But I can't stop her anymore. So what's left for me? What am I supposed to do? quote:"'You choose to do the right thing, and you trust me. Do you?" “gently caress!” he yelled, throwing up his hands. I can’t do this anymore. I give up. “I do trust you Ada,” he said, but his voice was flat and listless. He’d ‘go to his men’ and free the captives in the warehouse, and when he came back she’d be waiting for him in that chair, stiff and cold, one more friend who couldn’t take it anymore. Ruby and Olivia would be long gone. There was no other outcome. But even so… even though he couldn’t look her in the eyes when he said it… “Please don’t die on me.” He turned away from Ada, took the stairs two at a time, and didn’t look back.
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Jul 7, 2022 22:03
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Open Your Eyes Scene: The End of the World, in the Present The vision faded, leaving Ada blinking back tears that weren’t her own. She felt…violated. As if something that was so deeply hers no one else, not even Alisa, could ever see had been brought out into the light and melded together with an equally private part of Rick. Her hands shook, and the wine glass almost fell from her hand as she clung to the Olive Branch’s railing, trembling. Get out, she thought, closing her eyes, willing her whole being towards this one purpose. Get out, get out, get out… She raised the glass to her lips and drank it all with no regard for its taste on instinct. The taste of it gave her something to cling to, along with the boat’s steady sway and the sound of the crashing waves. Slowly, the vision receded, leaving her alone with her thoughts once again. “That was…me?” she asked, opening her eyes a slit to shoot a glance towards Lachesis. “It was like…like touching an open furnace. Like staring at the moon on a lonely midnight.” She shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t get it. How can people stand to be with me if I’m like this?” “Why do moths chase flames?” Lachesis asked in reply. Then she laughed, as if realizing what she’d just said. “I’m sorry, perhaps that was a little too on the nose. Here, let me refill your glass. It’s never easy wearing someone else’s skin, even if they aren’t in the middle of an existential crisis.” “Why do moths chase flames…hah,” she laughed, humorlessly. “Everyone knows why. It’s because they’re beautiful. But…” she was about to say flames were nothing like her, but the vision denied her words. She’d seen what Rick had felt back then, so long before they’d even started thinking about becoming an item. She’d wounded him and questioned him and he’d hung from her every word. “...I just didn’t think I was like that,” she managed, at length. “Beautiful things are worth admiring. They demand respect. I’ve never felt like I deserved it, and nobody’s ever just given it to me either. He didn’t admire me, any more than the fairies of Oak Alley did or anyone else. They all just thought I was a fool until I proved them otherwise, until they had no choice but to accept I was right. So then…” she sighed. “...So then maybe what I think beauty is is wrong. And maybe what is beautiful doesn’t need to be admired to entice anybody.” “That’s a lovely metaphor,” Lachesis said, smiling, “but the truth is more apt, in this case. Moths navigate by the light of the moon and the stars. Fire mimics that light and draws them in, unaware of the danger, because how could they ever touch the moon? Their perception of reality doesn’t match what’s there before them.” “So they listen to me because I’m unreal,” Ada murmured. “Because I make no sense.” It tracked. With Rick’s vision, and with the way everyone else had always treated her. Slowly, she raised her glass to her lips, to get a proper taste of the wine. It had an old, earthen taste, heady and full, and just a touch of it was enough to conjure images of long-lost vineyards to Ada’s mind. “It’s like I’m an illusion.” Just like the vineyards. “No wonder none of them believe me. What I say, what I am, what’s just part of my life…they’ve all seen it so many times already. The only thing they can’t see is the stage magician, lurking behind the curtains, smiling while he waits to pull off the trick.” She didn’t say anything more for a few moments, letting the truth of her situation soak in. Here she was, talking to one of the Fates, trying to make sense of the futures she’d broken, and Lachesis had just told her that the reason she could capture people’s hearts, even against their will, was that she was unreal. “Is it supposed to be this way, Lachesis?” she asked, at length. “People thinking things can never get better. That it’s stupid to hope that anything can change.” “They don’t start off like that,” Lachesis replied, shaking her head. “No one does. But the failures, the losses, the weight of their duties and responsibilities… What would it have done to him, if he’d found you dead in that chair, Ada duSang?” “It would’ve broken him. Completely.” The answer was immediate, absolute, certain. “Then know this: You weren’t the first person who’d asked him to trust them, but you were the first not to end up dead in the chair.” Ada’s sigh as she took Lachesis’ words in was long and breathy, and choked up in places. Even with the vision, the weight of her actions hadn’t fully set in before. It had now. And with that weight came dawning truths she wasn’t sure how to face. “But…I don’t get it. What you’re saying…it’s like there was never a point where things were better, and people thought failure was a freak accident. They don’t start off like that…but everyone ends that way. It’s like life’s a game everyone was born to lose.” She would’ve been surprised at the look on her face, if she’d been able to see it. Confused, innocent, like the child receiving an explanation from her parents on Christmas Day. “No, they aren’t born to lose. They fear loss, however, so much so that they’re no longer playing to win anymore.” “Just like Rick was way back when,” Ada whispered. “He was so scared something would go wrong that he would’ve just ripped Olivia out of my hands and killed her if Ruby hadn’t been there to push him away.” Her breathing hitched. And everyone else is also like this. God. Suddenly she felt so isolated from everyone else, standing at the edge of reality as the rest of the world sank behind her into the horizon, trapped in a cycle of despair and pain. I don’t know how to help them. I don’t know how to tell them everything can be different. I have to do something. But what can I even do? “Why?” she asked out loud. “Why am I like this? Why am I the only one who isn’t afraid?” Lachesis considered the question quietly. “Sometimes, those who survive their lowest moments, their deepest sorrows, find that fear has no more hold over them. I can only say that you cast yours away in a dark place, outside of my sight, and there it remains.” The Carnival. The thought came to Ada unbidden, as clear and certain as a prophecy. She’d changed during the time she’d spent there, even more deeply than she’d ever imagined. For a moment, Ada looked at herself, and she realized Lachesis was right. Her fear had left her. What remained inside her was strong, focused, and hard as steel. “It was the worst time of my life,” she murmured, clutching her crystal glass, letting its smooth coolness remind her of the numbness of loss. “I wanted to forget the way I hurt so badly that I was willing to do anything to bury it, even throw my life away. But I can’t put everyone through it. It’ll break them. Isn’t there something else, Lachesis? Can you use kindness, or are pain and cruelty the only things that can strip fear away?” “Think back,” Lachesis urged. “Was it pain and cruelty that allowed you to break the fates of others?” The waves lapped at the Olive Branch's hull while Ada considered Lachesis' words and looked back on her past. "Not on my end. They were so deep in the hole by the time I got to them, though…it feels like they wouldn't have listened to me if they weren't so defeated already." Maybe there was something in those moments she could use though, some kind of unifying thread. "Mmm. Do you mind if I work this out loud for a minute?" She asked, turning to look at the Fate. "It's a lot to keep track of. Feels like I might miss something otherwise." Lachesis leaned back in her seat, raising her glass to Ada. “Please do. That’s what we’re here for, after all.” Ada exhaled deeply. "Alright. So, first things first. What does fate mean? Like, really mean? It's definitely something that can break and it's deeply personal, but it's not just your self-image. It's got to do with the fear of loss, too…so I think fate has to be the choices you make…no, wait. Fate has to do with choices, but it isn't the choices themselves. That's just your will. So your fate is the outcome of your choices, the path you'll walk based on the decisions you make to play the game of life or not to play." She nodded firmly. "Yeah, that sounds right. Still with me?" “A well-reasoned description,” Lachesis said. “Go on.” "I don't think my own fate's set in stone. It doesn't make sense for it to be my fate to break fates, the system can't be self-defeating like that. And my fate isn't broken, is it?" “It’s not.” Ada nodded. "So fate has to be variable enough that I could choose to help break Rick, Ruby and Midas' fates, instead of being something I was bound to do from the moment I was born. Which means fate isn't broken just by choices. There's something else at play. Mmm…" So many memories were screaming inside her head for attention, confident they held the key to solving the puzzle of fate. One in particular caught her attention. “To choose means to decide what kind of person you are," she began, slowly. "Ruby and I talked about this, way back when. The reason you can’t use time magic to change your past is ‘cause you’re trying to fight your will with your own will. It makes them cancel out. And you can’t fight your fate, your choices, with choices of your own. The only way that the choices that you make can be different…” The Breaking Point posted:I can't let her do this. But I can't stop her anymore. So what's left for me? What am I supposed to do? She snapped her fingers and pointed at Lachesis. “...is if you let someone else make the choice for you.” “I see you were paying attention in there,” Lachesis said, grinning like a wolf. “But is that enough, on its own, or only the first step?” The way she’d worded the question gave Ada pause. “...It can’t be,” she muttered after a moment. “If it was that simple, fate would break all the time. It has to be something more. Something else they all have in common…” She clicked her tongue. “Dammit, this is difficult. Let me think, let me think…so they put their fate in my hands, I’m pretty sure of it, but that’s not what never happens, the tipping point that breaks fate. What’s different is…” And then Lachesis’ words struck her like thunder. ’You weren’t the first person who’d asked him to trust them, but you were the first not to end up dead in the chair. “..:What’s different is me,” she gasped, suddenly out of breath. “It’s not enough to leave your fate in someone else’s hands. You have to win the gamble for fate to break, and if you don’t, you’re not the one who pays the price. It’s your sponsor. When your fate is so sealed you can’t change it on your own, it’s like trying to gamble with an empty bank account. Somebody else has to put up the collateral and take on all the risk. And if people are already afraid of losing when playing for their own sake, who even is going to gamble on someone else? Someone who’s a confirmed loser, at that?” “Win the gamble?” Lachesis asked, one brow raising. “What do you mean?” “The people I helped…the people whose fate you can break…they’re not playing the game of life anymore. They’re coasting, like everyone else, but they folded when they were deep in the red instead of after going even. Rick was a little tin soldier when I first met him, Ruby was suicidal, and Midas…” The Lost King posted:“You’re wrong about the mountain. There is no top. Not that I’ve ever found.” “...Midas had forgotten what it was like to be a man anymore, instead of just a hollow myth. Yes,” she said, nodding firmly. “That’s it, isn’t it? They all fell deep into the roles that were assigned to them and couldn’t break out anymore. But I know how it happened now. I know how fates can break.” “Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” Lachesis said, beckoning her onward. “You have to throw yourself out there. You have to grab the other person by the lapels, and get through to them that they can be different, that their future can change. And when they hear it they won’t believe it, because why would they, right? Nothing in the world works like that. It makes no sense. So you’re always gonna get the same kind of reaction. ‘Prove it’. And that’s where you gotta take some risk to sell them on it. You gotta bet something yourself.” “Ah,” Lachesis said quietly. She was leaning forward now, eager to hear Ada’s answer. “We come to the crux of it.” “With Rick, I put my life on the line, and the same for Midas. With Ruby, I risked my future. I couldn’t have done it if I’d just hung back and tried not to change the past I think, if I hadn’t followed her back in time. And the whole reason this is such a hard sell is because you have to win a gamble that’s totally stacked against you. I couldn’t have persuaded Rick if I hadn’t had Alisa’s soul with me to survive Olivia’s draining. I couldn’t have given Midas what I’d promised to give if I didn’t know a whole bunch of weirdos and had one of the greatest witches of all time as my gardener either.” Excitement coursed through her body like electricity through a wire. “And Ruby was even harder than that. I had to convince her to stop hating herself so much, to learn forgiveness.” One Moment posted:“You were talking about what you’d become...Ruby, is this why you want to go back and make a different Choice?“ “She fought me so hard, too. When she found out I’d brought her family into it, she lost control of her plan. She turned to me, and she asked me...She asked me if I could love her. A banshee, an inhuman, a monster...” One Answer posted:“I’ve stilled the breath of babes in their cradles, taken the old, the sick, the weak. You don’t know…” she choked on it, unable to meet Ada’s eyes. “You don’t know.” Downing the whole glass in one gulp, she pointed it at Lachesis. “That was the moment Ruby’s fate was broken. When I accepted her as she was.” “Close. But not quite,” Lachesis said, shaking her head. She did not offer the rest of the answer. “Midas’ may yet prove to be the more difficult one to break, but the Rubeansidhe’s was the most intricate, certainly.” Ada grimaced. “Close? That makes no sense. There’s no maybes with broken fates. Either they break or they don’t,” she said, her features creasing into a frown. “Can you refill my glass, Lachesis? I need to think about this.” She wasn’t wrong, she knew that much, but Lachesis had just about told her she wasn’t right either. “Hnnn…is there something else it could’ve been? I think she asked me what she should do, but that doesn’t sound right. She didn’t actually listen afterwards. So it had to be something else. Something else…” She bit her lip, thinking. There wasn’t anything at stake here — this was just a game, almost, a test to see if she could come up with an answer that made sense. But that’s exactly why I can’t fail here. She’s letting this go on because I’m doing something right. If she cuts me off, it means that I’ve failed, and I won’t get to learn anything more from her. I won’t let that happen. I won’t! “...So Ruby didn’t actually end up convinced to give up the quest after I talked her off the cliff. She was still prepared to do it, she just didn’t want to anymore. We still had to change the past so past Ruby…Emma…wouldn’t have to go through what she went through. Was that it then? When we worked out a way to cheat time? …No, that was a part of it, but saying that’s where fate broke doesn’t sound right. Time magic wasn’t the focus of this, you told me as much. So what then? It was all because Ruby regretted her Choice, way back when. Her Choice…” She tilted her head, quizzically. “...Emma and I talked about that, actually. She was worried that now that Ruby’s problem was solved…or as close to solved as it was gonna get while we were working things out, she’d have to make her own Choice too.” Two Choices posted:“So that’s it then. I have to… to choose Faerie. If I don’t, she’s doomed. There’s no way around it. I can’t be Ruby Lytle the singer, or the actress, or the mother. I gotta do all the same things she did. Make all the same mistakes. Give up everyone I love…” “I tried to comfort her as best as I could, and then…” And then her eyes flew wide open. Two Futures posted:“What would you do, if you were me?” Ruby asked quietly.
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Jul 7, 2022 22:09
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“No way,” she breathed out. “The banshees…Ruby and Isabel, they both looked at us like we’d just killed someone from way far away. Was it Emma’s choice that broke Ruby’s fate? But that makes no sense! They’re different people! If other people choosing to take their gambles could break your own fate, it’d happen all the time. Wait. WAIT,” she cried out. “They’re different people now, but they couldn’t have always been. Otherwise, Ruby couldn’t have shaded herself by changing her own past. So at some point, they HAD to have been the same person. But now they aren’t. Which means…” And there she shot Lachesis an expectant look. It was a theory so wild she was tempted to just dismiss it herself, but even so…if there was just a tiny little chance… “Yes?” Lachesis asked, eyes bright. “...Which means the moment Emma decided to Choose differently from Ruby, Emma started developing her own fate.” She spoke quickly, afraid to lose the thread. “Ruby wanted Emma to make a different Choice and be happy with it. If Emma had gone down the same path, she would’ve killed herself. If she’d chosen differently and regretted it, Ruby would've still traveled back in time to fix her own past. But because there was no danger of that happening anymore, she didn’t have to. Her fate broke.” She glanced at Lachesis. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s how it happened. When both Rubies, the one past and the one present, gave me the chance to change who they were.” The sound of one of the Moirai clapping was a little too much like the rattle of bones, but Lachesis was clearly pleased with her. “Now you see the truth of things. There are some commonalities, but the exact circumstances needed to make it happen are as individualized as the people themselves are.” “And yet it’s happened three times already, and it’ll happen again,” Ada murmured. Setting aside the glance, she looked down at her hands. Had she really done all this? “I should bet on the lotto. I think I’m the luckiest bitch alive.” Lachesis laughed lightly. “Numbers are far less open to suggestion than people,” she said, but then her smile faded. “If it keeps happening, though, the integrity of life’s pattern could be damaged. Only one thread has snarled so far, at least. But one is quite enough.” “You said fates are interconnected. So what does damaging the pattern mean?” “There are now two Ruby Lytles in this world, which only had room for one,” Lachesis said, pursing her lips. “And a Richter Cole who should have been dead twice over. These extras have effects on the fates of others, like you. They influence your decisions, your choices, your actions. And not just yours, but everyone they come into contact with. Usually the effect of these extra threads amounts to very little. The world adjusts, and the pattern shifts to accommodate. But sometimes they can greatly alter what was meant to be without even trying to. With them by your side, whatever your original plans would have been…” she sighed. “Nothing is certain now. Nothing. It’s a world of possibilities. I don’t say that to guilt you, or ask you to regret what you wouldn’t in any case. Only to warn you to be careful, and ask you not to let Magnolia’s fate snarl like Richter’s did.” “Don’t worry. I won’t,” Ada said, reassuringly. But something about this bothered her. Slowly, a frown crept across her face. “I wonder, though…if broken fates can change my own fate like you said…and if each thread strengthens the others around it…doesn’t it mean that each broken fate is pushing us further and further off the script? Lachesis, what if other people find out that I did it and start asking for help? What if breaking Miss Magnolia’s fate leads to a fifth broken fate, or a sixth, or seventh? Where will we go?” “I cannot tell,” Lachesis said gravely. “And that in itself is a very dangerous thing. These others could be kept secret, I think, but there is a strong chance that the desperate and the broken will come looking for the girl who broke the curse of Midas.” She paused for a moment. “If that happens, my sisters and I will not be able to overlook it for very long.” “Why not? If I kept on causing snarls, sure, but…most fates are so terrible. Isn’t it right to try to make the world a better place?” “You can change someone’s fate, or even save them from their fate without breaking it,” Lachesis said. “As long as they’re still choosing for themselves, their fate is still intact. Otherwise, no fate would survive a life unbroken.” “I thought you couldn’t run away from your own fate, though,” Ada said, confused. “What about all those cases of people who tried to defy a prophecy only to fail? If you wanted to avoid your foreseen fate, wouldn’t the act of trying to run away from it let you change it?” Lachesis sighed tiredly, like she’d heard that question a thousand times before. “Trying to avoid the consequences without addressing the causes never works, and people attempting to ‘outrun’ fate are not interested in changing who they are. They try to hide it, or bury it, sometimes, but if they were willing to change, then there wouldn’t have been a prophecy to flee from in the first place.” After a moment’s contemplation, Ada nodded. “...Yeah. That tracks. So as long as they come to me first looking for help and I don’t have to put my own fate on the line for them, their fates won’t break when their future changes. Right?” Lachesis nodded. “That’s right. Fates change all the time. There’s enough slack in the pattern to account for that. Even changes that seem monumental for an individual will shake out just fine in the grand scheme.” “So I just gotta avoid chasing the…the hopeless cases, for lack of a better term. Let them go, if I can’t help them.” She tried to imagine seeing someone so lost and mired in their own failures and not extending them a helping hand and drew a blank. It was so hard to even consider it. That was a kind of cold-bloodedness she wasn’t sure she could stand engaging in. But it’s such a huge risk…what’s going to happen going forwards? Am I gonna make an enemy of the Fates? “...It’s gonna be hard,” she admitted, lowering her head. “You’re asking me to not help the people who need me most.” “It goes against your nature, I know,” Lachesis said sadly. “It pains me to ask this of you, but I am a weaver of Fate. I cannot condone you acting in ways that damage and destroy it… not publicly at least. All I can do is warn you that if you continue, it won’t be me who comes calling. The olive branch is only offered once.” She reached a hand over to pat the boat’s railing. What a strange way to word a threat. It's not like she's telling me to stop…it's almost more like she's the one who doesn't want to do any of this. In that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if the masters of fate weren't just as caught up in it as everyone else, their hands forced by a system and title they no longer even wanted. "The Fates have responsibilities they have to abide by," Ada observed, after a moment. "The weight of one's station sure is heavy, isn't it?" “There is none greater,” Lachesis replied, with the seriousness of a tomb. “It’s something you may understand yourself one day, if you continue on your current course. Though even then, not to the same extent. A goddess has little in the way of wiggle-room to behave in ways that run counter to her purview.” “So the goddess and the domain meld into one another…” for a time, Ada went quiet. Here there was something she wasn’t sure she could change. Where did one even start decoupling a goddess from her duties? Lachesis was already taking a risk by speaking to her like this as things were. Maybe there’s a way out there and I’ll find it someday, she thought. But not yet. Not today. “I’d rather not be enemies if I can help it. Not even because it’s probably a bad idea to bet you can outsmart the fates, either.” Ada looked at Lachesis and smiled. “I learned a lot today. Maybe I can’t come onboard the Olive Branch once I step off, but I’d love to just get together and talk again.” “If we do speak again, it will be brief and in front of others,” Lachesis said, shaking her head. “I’ve prepared you for your task as best as I was able, and stolen a few moments of enjoyment while I was at it. But just chatting is time I can’t afford to spend. If you have a final question, you may ask it.” “Mmm.” There were a lot of questions, actually, but what could she actually ask and get an answer to, that she hadn’t asked yet? It felt like she’d plumbed the depths of fate’s workings already. The only thing that remained was to ask about specific people’s fates, and Lachesis would never share any information about them. Especially hers. Not when she’s told me I changed my fate indirectly already, she thought. That was what her decision back in the past New Orleans had been, she was sure of that now. It was a comforting thought, after all the doubts and pressure from earlier, to know that becoming who she was now was not a decision she’d been destined to make from the start, but still her own choice. So then…what remained? Oh. Right. There’s one more thing. She probably won’t like it, but we’ll never be able to speak like friends again. So what is there to lose by trying to squeeze out one more moment? “Yeah. Just one.” She swallowed. “Maybe this is out of place, because I’m not a singer, but…Lachesis, I want to sing a song together. Will you be my muse?” Lachesis looked at her for a long moment, brows furrowed under the blindfold. “I have inspired many things in mortals, but music is a rarity,” she muttered. “The sisters will be jealous enough that I may end up owing them another favor…” But then a mischievous smile spread across her lips. “Too bad for them. I’ll be the one to play muse to the golden thread.” Ada smiled, and turned towards the railing, and looked beyond the edge. There was the naval base, covered in spray paint, the graffiti broadcasting its message, loud and clear. It felt like a message from New Orleans, the city speaking to her through its art. Slowly, she began humming the first few bars of an old melody, an old guitar melody almost anyone in the city would know. A melody that was pastoral, quiet, and somewhat melancholic. And yet, it belonged to a song of hope… “There’s a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold, And she’s buying a stairway to heaven… When she gets there she knows, If the stores are all closed, With a word she can get what she came for. Ooh, ooh, and she’s buying a stairway to heaven…” Lachesis didn’t join her in song, but as she listened to Ada, she stood up and crossed the space between them to stand behind her. Long, bony fingers clutched at Ada’s shoulder as she finished the melody, squeezing her flesh almost hard enough to be painful. When Ada glanced up, Lachesis was looking out over the water too, at the same graffiti message, the corners of her lips turned up. Encouraged, Ada drew a breath and kept on going. “There’s a sign on the wall, but she wants to be sure, ‘Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings…” And then Lachesis took a breath and sang the rest of the verse with her. “In a tree by the brook, there’s a songbird who sings, ‘Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven’.” “It makes me wonder…” Lachesis said, then she laughed, very softly. “You might think someone in my position, watching over so many people for thousands of years, would get bored. But I never do. You always find ways to surprise me. Sometimes for good, sometimes for ill, but always, always something new. There were so few of you at first, just tens of thousands in the whole world, no more. Things have changed so much...” She started to sing a song of her own. Something in the same ancient Greek dialect that Circe and Agrius had argued in. Her voice wasn’t beautiful, but it was low and thick like warm molasses. It was only a verse or two, and she didn’t offer a translation, but Ada caught the word ‘Athens’ and realized it was a song about a city. A song of bright days, long nights, and lively people. When she was finished, the goddess removed her hand and sighed, content. “I enjoyed your company today, Ada duSang. Know that I will be watching your future exploits with great interest.” “Thank you, goddess,” Ada said, and bowed her head respectfully. When she came back up, there was a smile on her face. “I think it’s time I got going. I hope I can make a world that will surprise you.” She bowed once again, this time more deeply at the waist, then turned around and made for the gangplank. She waved back at Lachesis, eyes glittering, and then hopped off and didn’t look back.
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Jul 7, 2022 22:10
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The Bally Who? Scene: Ethan’s Pad Grace was waiting outside of Mt. Pleasant Nursing and Hospice Care when Maksim walked out, wearing bright teal scrubs with cheerful puppies printed on them and looking like a million bucks. He had a serious glow about him, a vibrancy that had been missing since the very first time she’d met him. “Alright!” he said, balling his fists up. “Ready to take on the world! Or at least Ethan.” He slipped out of his scrubs, revealing the black fishnet top he had on underneath, and what could only be described as bleach-washed booty jorts. “You got a second helmet? He asked, balling up the shed clothing and stuffing it into a denim backpack which he slipped over his shoulders. Grace noticed that he had no replacement for the teal crocs. She also noticed she didn’t care, especially when he started doing his eyeliner using her new bike’s side mirrors. The boy was fiiiiine. Wet Jeans, Old Man posted:”where r u guys, im gonna go try to fix a relationship, call me” Grace blinked her eyes a few times, pulling them away from the vampire and finished sending her 3rd text to Elbridge and James and settled in on her new ride. The difference between Maksim before and after lunch was astonishing, but not her problem. Not yet. “I literally just picked this up this morning, Maks. I’ll have one for next time. But, before we do anything else, we gotta figure out your play here. Are we just going to Ethan’s, are we stopping to get flowers or a bottle of booze?” “Gifts are already on board,” he said, hitching a thumb at his backpack. “And it’s not ‘cause I think you’re a bad driver, more ‘cause it’s easier to hold onto someone when I can’t smell them.” He finished with his makeup and tucked the eyeliner pencil into a pocket. Grace shook her head and held her helmet out to him. “Okay, then, you wear it. Wouldn’t wanna mess up your makeup.” Maksim gave her a gorgeous smile and slipped it on. “Onward!” he said, pointing dramatically, and then doing a Michael Jackson spin. “Get on the drat motorcycle, Maksim.” He got on the drat motorcycle. — Ethan’s house was clearly not just Ethan’s house. It was much too big for one person, a single-story old mansion with some pillars out front, a tin roof, and peeling white paint on the windowsills. It had a sort of frat-house energy to it, though. Loved and lived in. Five cars in various states of repair clogged the driveway, there was an empty kiddie pool with a lawn chair in it on the lawn, and a whole ‘this is where everybody smokes’ gathering of chairs and ash trays on the wraparound porch. As she pulled in, Maksim gave her a little squeeze. He’d been a perfect gentleman the whole ride, staying quiet under his helmet, but now that they were here… “You got this, Maks. Just be honest, apologize, let him know that you know you screwed up. And try not to be too sexy until he softens a bit. And THEN tell him you’ve got big shots coming to the show. And give me the presents to hold. And… good luck. I’ve got your back.” Maksim slipped the helmet off and ran his hands through his hair. He looked good tousled, but the pensive expression kind of ruined it. “Okay,” he said sheepishly, handing her the helmet and the backpack. “Just… one big thing. Ethan doesn’t know I’m a vee-ay-em pire. No one in the band does. They’re just regular people, they think all that stuff is from stories and bad movies. That alright?” Grace took a deep breath before turning back around. “Good for protecting them, Maks, but if you really care about Ethan, you gotta bring him in sooner rather than later. Informed consent and all that. But that’s a problem for after this concert.” she replied and gave him the lightest shoulder punch imaginable. Maks sighed. He didn’t even react to the tiny punch. “I do care, that’s why I’m keeping him out. The best thing I can do for the people I care about is stay the hell away from them.” She paused again before making eye contact with Maksim. “I’m not you, and I don’t have any experience dating outside my weird little niche, but that doesn’t seem sustainable in the long term, Maks.” She turned and started walking towards the mansion. “But again, not today’s problem. Ethan has probably noticed us out here by now, let’s go say ‘hi’ before he has a chance to work himself up.” Maks sighed harder, putting some real effort into it. Nothing about dating as a Raith was sustainable, but it wasn’t like he could explain that. Even if they were friends, sortof, he knew better than to tell anyone who didn’t already know about the family weakness. “I don’t think he has, but… yeah lets just get this over with. Slutty Maksim’s Apology Tour starts now.” He led Grace up the worn wooden stairs to the screen door and started banging on it like it owed him money. A minute or two later a chubby, freckled girl in a pink cami with thick-rimmed glasses opened the big wooden door and peered at them through the screen. “Maks!” she shouted as soon as she recognized him, a smile lighting up her face. But almost instantly the smile was replaced by a wince. “Jesus, Maks… you can’t come around here! Ethan’s gonna pitch a fit.” “Charrr~lotte,” Maksim purred, turning the charm on as hard as he could without applying the whammy. “I know he is, I do, but it’s band biz. I gotta talk to him. Five minutes and I’m gone, swear to god.” “Ugh… he’s gonna kill me if I let you in…” She bit her lip, thinking, and then noticed Grace. Immediately she turned suspicious. “Who’s she?” Now it was Grace's turn for an exaggerated sigh. "Grace, moral support, ride, and bodyguard for-" She turned to Maksim. "What did you just call it? Slutty Maksim's Apology Tour?" “You called it that first,” Maksim grumbled under his breath. “She’s just a friend, Char.” “Since when do you have ‘just friends’ Maks?” Char asked, crossing her arms. Grace stepped between the two. "Hey, just because he's bad at it doesn't mean he's not trying. And it's more of a 'just lovely friends' thing, anyway. We've got news about the Save The Lily Benefit Concert. And vodka." Rapport +4 vs Difficulty 5 = -/+1 = 3. Tagging With A Little Help From My Friends for +2 = 5, meets, cost with success, FP 4/5 “What kind of vodka?” Char asked, narrowing her eyes. Grace stepped back and, as if introducing him for the first time, presented Maksim with a little flourish. “Maksim, if you would.” “I-It’s Sweet Tea vodka, and it’s for Ethan,” Maks stammered. “We used to… *mumble mumble* in the back of his truck…” “See, he’s trying. Can you maybe just let Ethan know Maks is here with a peace offering and doesn’t want to be disrespectful?” Char sighed. “Fiiiine.” She turned around and shouted loud enough to wake the dead: “HEY EVERYONE, MAKSIM’S HERE ON A SLUTTY APOLOGY TOUR AND HE BROUGHT SWEET TEA VODKA.” “Tell him to gently caress off!” Came an answering shout from somewhere deeper in the house. “You can come in,” Char said, pushing open the screen door with a look of cheerful malice. “Char…” Maksim said, burying his head in his hands. “What did I ever do to you?” “Nothing,” Char said, in a tone that said that was exactly the problem. Grace gave Char a little nod as she led Maksim inside. It looked exactly as she assumed it would, sofas and recliners that had been left on the curb, a variety of mismatched dirty plates and cups covering most flat surfaces and a variety of instruments and gear everywhere else. She wasn't really talking to anyone when she half yelled "Yeah, so, we got some pretty big backers to push the Save The Lily show. There's gonna be some producers and execs coming, showing them the place and pushing to get some big names scheduled for shows." A thin young man with spiked, platinum blonde hair and two days of dark stubble strode into the living room. He wore a camo jacket with the sleeves torn off and extra large safety pins all over it, over top of some tastefully torn skinny jeans and untied shitkicker boots. From the way Maksim tensed up, Grace knew right away it was Ethan. “Pshyeah right. No one worth a dime is going to schedule anything at that little shithole,” said Ethan. “Never have, never will. Facts is facts. Not that you were ever a man who’d know a fact if it bit him in the rear end, right Maksie?” Maksim opened his mouth to say something but Ethan kept right on going. “Hope you’re not trying to sell tickets to this apology tour ‘cause there ain’t nobody gonna buy ‘em. Especially not after what you did the last time you were in this house. So you might as well turn the gently caress around and go home. If you leave the vodka I might even forget you were ever here.” Grace turned to Maksim, and then back to Ethan… and then back to Maksim. “Jesus christ, you really screwed this one up, didn’t ya?” Without waiting for him to respond, she stepped up to Ethan and held out her hand to shake. “Hi, name’s Grace. And I’m dead serious, it’s not just half promises or wishful thinking. Ada duSang has backers and we’re doing this thing. I thought we should showcase some local talent instead of just whoever they get to fly in for this concert, but if you don’t want in, that’s on you.” “Am I supposed to know who the gently caress that is?” Ethan asked, glaring at her hand like he might glare at a cobra that had suddenly reared up in front of him. “Someone local, with the right connections and a whole lot of money,” Maksim said, standing up straight finally. “I’ve put the whole show together myself. You know I was always as good at organizing as I was at dancing. You know I’ve asked everyone and their dog to come play, one last time. You had to know I’d come by.” “I figured you had enough pride not to beg,” Ethan spat. “Well I don’t!” Maksim shouted. “Not where the Lily’s concerned. It’s the last place we got that’s just ours, just for n’awlins, and we’re gonna lose it if no one gives a drat. I know you hate me and fine, I’d hate me too. But don’t be such a dick that you won’t go back for the people who helped you out when you were just getting started. If it wasn’t for the Lily there wouldn’t be any ‘The Bally Who?’ and you know it.” There were three other people peeking around corners into the room by now. Two guys and a girl, all at least as punked up as Ethan. They were watching this go down with rapt attention but no one had made a peep so far. “He’s got a point,” Charlotte said. She was still leaning against the wall next to the door. “Shut up, Char, this is band business,” Ethan snapped. “He’s got a point,” repeated the tall, thin guy with his hair in his eyes, who was almost certainly the Bass player. “...grrr.” "So… Do we need to find another singer or are we filling your spot? Can you sort it out in the next hour or so and let us know what the plan is?" Grace crossed her arms and stared directly at Ethan. Provoke +2 = +/-- = 1 vs vs Ethan’s Will +2 = //// (true neutral) = 2 Ethan blinked at her like she’d gone crazy. “Lady, I don’t want your spot and you can fill it with whatever or WHOever you like, just like this little piece of-” “Ohmygod get OVER yourself,” Charlotte said. “Not everything is about YOU Ethan. I’m gonna go get some cups.” “Who’s it about then?” Ethan pouted. “It’s about the band, man,” said definitely-the-Bass-player, as he slinked into the room. “Hey Maksie. Long time no hang.” “Hey George,” said Maksim. “Hey Rita, hey Everett,” he added, to the two who were still at the edges. Rita gave a half-hearted wave, Everett frowned. Both of them joined George in the room though. He took a deep breath. “Look, guys… I know I hosed up. I’m sorry. I’m not asking you to forgive me. But if this’ll be the Lily’s last concert before it gets all gentrified up and stuff… I want you to be there. You earned it. Don’t say no just ‘cause of me. duSang is gonna build a brand new music center for the kids if she makes the property bid. With up-and-comers getting spotlight at the new Lily. If you don’t come it’s gonna be some out of town assholes on top billing and I just can’t stand the thought… Not while it’s still OUR Lily.’” “Top billing?” Ethan asked. His eyes flicked to Grace, who he was now clearly seeing as The Money Person. “Who else have you even signed?” Grace gave an exaggerated sign and pulled out her phone, flipping through texts pretending to look something up. “Okay, so, the ink on this whole thing isn’t even wet, it was at like 11 this morning. But we should have the Soul Rebels, and they know Billie Joe Armstrong so we’re pulling on strings for Green Day. Somebody apparently has a hookup with Fallout Boy, who’s busy, but is on the same label as Panic! At The Disco, and somebody else is apparently owed a favor by Boz Scaggs. I wish I had more info, but this is all happening right now. Let’s get you on the schedule before any more bands with punctuation marks show up.” CA with Rapport +4 = --++ = 4 vs Ethan +2 //+- = 2, Create Advantage “Names Dropped” Ethan’s eyes started to get bigger the more nationally known names Grace listed, but when Panic! got mentioned it seemed to galvanize him. “Hey, heyheyheyheyhey, are you for real?” He shot Maksim a look. “This is for real? It’s not some stupid gimmick ‘concert’ with five old folks in the audience?” “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Maksim said, exasperated. “Yes, it’s real. Yes, we’ll have a national spotlight. Yes, we’ve got advertisers and scouts coming. Yes, I wanted you on the poster but if you can’t stomach the idea then I guess we’ll settle for Green Day.” Charlotte got back right around then with an entire stack of red solo cups, which she started handing out to everyone. Ethan took his without saying anything. He looked stunned. Grace wasted no time in cracking open the bottle of vodka and pouring a little into everyone’s cup, starting with Ethan, and ending with Ethan. He seemed like he could use a little extra. “So, you guys are in, yeah?” She said and raised her cup in an attempt to toast the band. Rapport vs Difficulty 5, Rapport +4 = /-++ = 5 +2 from Stunt, Tagging Names Dropped for another +2 = 9, SWS! Charlotte looked at Ethan. George looked at Ethan. Rita looked at Ethan. Everett looked anywhere but at Ethan. For a moment the room was entirely silent, save the gentle bubbling of a bong somewhere down the hallway. “Fine! I guess!” Ethan shouted, tossing back his double-shot like it was water instead of vodka. “That settles it,” said George. “The Bally Who? opens for the Lily. For N’awlins.” “For N’awlins,” the rest of them said, together, even Ethan. Grace clapped Maksim on the back a little harder than she needed to and took her shot of obnoxiously sweet vodka. "For N'awlins!" She joined in, but kept her eyes on Ethan. She might need to get Maksim out of here if he's still mad over… Grace simultaneously realized she really should have figured out exactly what Maks did, and that she was probably going to be happier not knowing. Empathy +2 to read Ethan = +/// = 3 Ethan seemed fine for a moment as he looked between his bandmates, and even seemed happy when he looked towards Grace, but when he reached Maksim, his jaw clenched shut. It didn’t appear to be anger so much as hurt. “Okay, so, glad this all worked out, I can’t tell you how happy we are to have some more hometown bands showing up for this. And Char, thank you so much for the warm welcome. We’ll leave you to get a setlist up and get practicing, Maks here will send over the paperwork, and we’ll see you Sunday!” Grace slipped her arm under Maksim’s and started to head out before anyone could argue. Maksim didn’t stop her from dragging him but he did call back over his shoulder: “Stage rehearsals on Saturday! Come around 2 or 3 for sound and light checks!” “Jesus Christ, that’s a little last minute Maks!” Ethan said, picking up the vodka bottle, which had been left on the table. “We’ll be there, and you can tell Green Day to gently caress off from me, personally.”
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Jul 7, 2022 22:26
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Full Schedule Scene: Back from the End of the World Ada was halfway through the train graveyard that led back to civilization from the End of the World when her phone rang. She frowned for a moment as she reached for it. She wasn’t expecting any calls from anyone, all the relevant business for today had been sorted out already. Who could it be? “Hello?” she asked, leaning against a dilapidated car. “This duSang?” The voice had an unmistakable Aussie accent that could only belong to one person. “Mickey?” she said, a note of surprise creeping into her voice. Why was he calling? Could it be…nah, there was no way. It was too soon, judging by how he’d acted the last time they’d spoken. “Yeah, it’s me. What’s up?” “Been looking up some history and doing some thinking,” Mickey said. He sounded too calm, like he’d prepared what he was going to say to her. “We need to talk. ASAP.” Time seemed to slow down as his words sunk in. Something’s changed. Big time. This isn’t a no, though, it can’t be. He would’ve just told me there was no chance already. Which means this is a negotiation, and one he feels ready for. A feeling of relief crept across her body, guilty and hidden. Thank god I got the fairies on side already. Means I got a trump card too. “Yeah. We do.” She ran the numbers in her mind for a moment, wondering if she had the hours to fit this into her day. It wouldn’t be time to meet with Hob to speak with Ogfri until later tonight…she probably had five hours, maybe six. Good enough. “Can you meet me at the VFW in two hours? We should be able to find some privacy there.” “Sure, good choice. No interruptions this time. You don’t gotta come alone unless you want to, but if you don’t make sure whoever you bring with you is caught up on what’s going on. This ain’t gonna be a social event.” “Don’t worry about it. Anyone who comes with me will know this is business time.” That meant Grace, most likely — if she could conclude her business with Maksim in time. Privately, Ada hoped she did. Having a weregator in her corner could go a long way towards helping build up her credibility. As she spoke, Ada allowed a note of satisfaction to creep into her voice. “You won’t regret this. We’re gonna save the city, Mickey. I’ll see you there.” “See you,” he said, without any commitments. The phone clicked. The second the call was over, Ada began typing a message. ”A Champion’s Work is Never Done posted:Got another meeting lined up in two hours. How are things on your end? Would be nice to have you there with me. —A quote:”Gotta drop Maks off, then I’ll be there. Got the band btw.” quote:I knew I’d gotten the best talent around when we signed that contract. See you there. —A
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Jul 7, 2022 22:55
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Skedaddled Scene: Outside El’s Apartment Some quick goodbyes later, Nicholas, James, and Rick (who was safely stowed back in his case) left Elbridge’s apartment by the usual route. James kept an eye out for Earl’s accomplice, who WAS in fact still hanging around. Unfortunately as soon as he saw the two men and their bandages and bags- and no sign of Earl Denver- he bolted for the exit. James tried to give chase, with Nicky shouting worriedly at him about his stitches, but the kid had too much of a head start. By the time they made it to the parking lot the work van was peeling out into the street, tires squealing in protest. “Damnit,” grumbled James once Nicky had finally caught up to him, “He got away. At least we know he’s not a vampire.” “That’s something,” Nicky agreed. “Perhaps he was er, enthralled? Or under some kind of duress? Maybe we’ve saved him.” As much as James wanted to point out that the kid probably ran because they both looked like they were fresh from a fight, or the fact that the only thing he was enthralled by was weed, he didn’t have the heart to break that all to Nicky. The poor wizard needed a win after all he’d been through. “We made sure he’s not hanging around with a vampire anymore,” he said, “That’s something.” Nicky grunted assertively, but before he could say anything else, James’ phone rang. The number was unlisted. James held his hand up to stop Nicky from saying anything, then answered the phone. “Hello. Ivarson here.” “Oi, James,” said a voice that was unmistakably Mickey’s from the night before. “You busy?” “Gotta give someone a ride, but other than that,” James replied, “Not really, no.” “Perfect. Think you could swing by the VFW hall in about an hour? I got a meeting scheduled with the little firebrand and I could use someone like you in my corner. To mediate, make sure we’re not taking the short end of the stick, that kinda thing.” He was playing it off as not that big of a deal but James got the feeling this would be a huge favor, something that Mickey would remember going forwards. James took a second, just to work out in his head if he could actually make it and still have time to clean up, but once he was reasonably sure he could manage it, he replied, “Sure, I can swing by.” “Thanks, appreciate it. Make sure to dress like you mean business.” "Who's kinda business?" James asked - after all, it wouldn't do to turn up in a suit while everyone else was armed to the teeth. “You know, suave, but tough,” he laughed. “Like you work for the mob or something.” "I think I can manage that," James replied, "See you soon." “What was that about?” Nicky asked after he put the phone away, raising an eyebrow. "Remember those were-gators I mentioned?" James replied as they headed toward his car, "They're meeting Ada, and they want me as backup." “Oh…” Nicky paused for a second as if he were listening to something. “Yes, yes, I’ll tell him.” Another pause. “No I’m sure I feel fine for now, tomorrow will likely be miserable though. Okay.” He looked at James again. “Sorry, Rick’s asking if you can drop him off at… well, it’s a magic tree that’s in the neighborhood. He also still can’t believe the were-gators are even real, apparently. They’ve been very aloof. Personally, I wouldn’t mind stopping at the pharmacy for some fever medicine, if you’ve still got time.” “Yeah, we can probably manage all that, if we’re quick,” James replied as they climbed into the car, “I mean, dropping a haunted sword off at a magic tree almost seems normal, given today.”
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Jul 7, 2022 22:56
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| # ? Jun 10, 2024 02:01 |
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Obligations Scene: Elbridge’s Apartment Before he picked up the phone, Elbridge finished a letter he’d been meaning to complete for some time now. It was addressed to Anna Beaumont, and contained an apology for not having kept in touch, the details of what had become of Frisk along with documentation of the evidence Elbridge had uncovered in the course of his investigation, and any information that she could use to shield herself or her sewing circle should Goldman win and the police come knocking. The bulk of it had already been written and compiled over the preceding days. Once Elbridge stopped agonising over its framing, the rest fell into place in a matter of minutes. He’d send it via public mailbox en route to Krazy Karl’s. First, he had a call to make. Ada had just gotten out of the train graveyard and back on the Rolls Royce when the phone rang. “Sure picked a day to get popular, didn’t I…” she muttered as she slid into the car and locked the door behind her. “Hello? Ada here,” she answered. “This is Elbridge,” he said at once, and then, as though he were trying to get it over with all at once: “I need your help.” Realization sunk in in two stages. First came the understanding that Elbridge, Elbridge of all people, was asking for help. Huh. You don’t hear this kinda thing everyday. Then came the growing awareness of the fact this was looking to be yet another commitment on her plate, on a day that was already close to fully booked. It’s gotta be something we can delay ‘til tomorrow. Probably. Hopefully, anyway. “I’m listening,” she said, reaching to grasp a lock of her own hair, wrapping her index finger around it and twisting it up until it turned golden and would bend no more. “What is it?” A brief pause as he gauged the correct balance of caution versus expedience. “Time’s running out for Frisk. If he isn’t rescued by tonight, Goldman will win.” Caution to the wind, then. “I’m going to seek help from the lovely people that Ivarson spoke with earlier. It’s a long shot, and if I can’t convince them, this entire plan fails.” “Right. So where do I come in?“ she asked, a sinking feeling growing in her chest. I got less than two hours before it’s time to go meet Mickey. Dammit, El. “You have…an undeniable gift…for talking people into things,” Elbridge said. “If you can help me to secure the Delacroixs’ co-operation -” “That being?” Ada cut in. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.” “Ghouls. Frisk was willing to reach out to them and they’re quite invested in getting him back. They’re not thrilled about eating people or working as muscle for stronger creatures of the night, and I for one feel that they should be encouraged in this.” “Makes sense. What do you need me for though? Sounds like they don’t need any convincing to act in their best interests.” There was a note of incredulity in her voice. Was there something she was missing? It all seemed fairly straightforward so far. There had to be some kind of catch. “They’ve already worked with us once. James went into the Carnival with one. I vouched for him.” She could almost hear his grimace over the phone. “Suffice it to say, we did not recover Frisk. I doubt that they’ll be well-disposed to listen to me after that.” “They will,” Ada said, firmly. “They’ve got no other choice. There’s no time to argue and complain. Just call them up and stand your ground. Bet something on it if you have to, it’ll win them over.” “...you won’t be able to accompany me?” he asked. “No. I’ve got a meeting with the gators in an hour and a half that they asked for. It’s the last shot I got at selling them on the revolution I’m planning. I’m gonna go see them, you’ll have to make do without me.” She paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, her tone was more reassuring. “You don’t need me, though. The pieces are all in place. All you gotta do is put the last block in.” He’d been set to say something harsher, especially in light of the day he’d lost to working for her and her hiring Grace away from him, but her confidence in him sounded genuine. It wasn’t the sort of false reassurance he’d grown accustomed to, where ‘You can manage on your own’ was more often than not code for ‘I’m washing my hands of you’. Still… “Hold on. There’s a reason I need their help.” And he explained his plan in as few words as he could manage. “I understand that you spoke to Medusa recently. If there’s anything you can tell me about her…” “Mmm.” Slowly, Ada let her fingers drift down from her hair…and it was then that she realized she was still wearing the curseproofed golden gloves. Maybe I AM biting off more than I can chew if I’m still not catching up to things as they’re happening, she thought. But it’s my new rhythm. I better get used to it. There were no breaks before. Now, I can expect overlaps, all the time, every day. …Like right now. Philosophical musings for later, baby. Right now, focus. “So I talked to Medusa in a couple unique contexts,” she began, marshaling her thoughts. “A private dinner between rich neighbors, confronting her when I had total leverage over her and Midas was slamming into her like a battering ram…you get the idea. They were specific situations I set up and had some level of control over, and you don’t got those. What you’ll get is Medusa in her element, doing something she’s done a million times before, and exposing no weak points. You’ll have to crack open her armor and force them out into the open.” “I see.” Elbridge pondered her advise. “This will mean forcing her into a context she can’t control. The specifics will depend entirely on what we learn from our mysterious enemy-of-our-enemy.” He sighed and shook his head, not that she could see it. “I might have reconsidered this course, if not for the weight of pro…phe…cy…” Elbridge trailed off. “Oh, dear. Erm, in the course of your interactions, did you ever get a sense for how close Medusa is with Dodona?” “Not much, no,” Ada said, shaking her head. “I’m positive she didn’t see me coming at all, though, and ‘grandma’ is pretty ill. It’s definitely possible to blindside her. What’s got you worried?” “I’m about to come for the Queen, Ada,” Elbridge said exasperatedly. “I cannot afford to miss.” “Do you think you will?” It was a fairly typical question, as far as Ada went, but the note of curiosity in her voice was what made it unique. “I think that it’s a real risk, and had I more time I would leave nothing to chance,” he answered. “But you don’t have it, so the question still stands,” Ada pointed out. “You don’t float the chance of losing until you reach the point you’re pretty sure you’re gonna lose. Which means you think if you just go in and do what you usually do, Medusa will grab you by the throat and use your face to scrub out her golden toilets. I want to know what’s got you scared of her. The exact details. I can’t help otherwise.” “My usual approach involves either total surprise or overwhelming force,” Elbridge noted. “Ideally both. I don’t worry that she’ll best me in a fight. I worry that it might come to one in the first place, because if it does then my chances of getting Frisk back alive in a timely fashion drop precipitously. I need to constrain her options as much as possible.” For a few moments, Ada stayed quiet. Neither of those were her preferred approaches, though she was familiar with them. This’d take some work. “Alright. Let’s talk about outcomes. What are the things you can’t allow to happen, no matter what? A fight is one. There anything else you can’t afford to see?” “I can’t let her retreat to the Carnival,” Elbridge added. “We tried direct extraction once there and it was a bloody debacle.” Unless she’s the only one who can retrieve Frisk. So much depended upon the nature of the blackmail material this expedition unearthed. “More likely than not, it’ll have to be an agent of hers, which means allowing her outside lines of communication… but I can’t let her send any of her assassins or hired cops after anyone on my side.” “Who can she actually threaten?” “Abel Drouillard. Laverne Bellafonte. Anyone from Anna’s group. Gorden.” Elbridge didn’t even hesitate. “Does she know you care for them?” she asked. “Like, genuinely care? Personally?” Elbridge was silent for so long that she thought he might have disconnected. “No,” he realised at last. “Because… I’ve been so insistent… on pretending that I don’t.” He hadn’t even called Drou a friend until the man had been hospitalised, and even then he’d only visited in secret. “Then the danger isn’t real unless you make it so. She thinks you’re a cold, soulless man who has no attachments. Lean into it. Let her see only someone she can kill, but not compromise or break because there are no levers to move him with.” She paused for a moment, and drew a deep breath. “In other words…don’t come in as Elbridge Hardley. Come in as the Warden of New Orleans, and stick to that part.” “Play the part…yes. That, I can do.” Elbridge had been playing a part since long before he became a Warden, or even a Wizard. This was a familiar role. Now, all he had to do was make sure that Medusa couldn’t actually kill him, but Elbridge felt quite confident about his own track record there. “Thank you, Ada. Good luck with Mickey’s lot. And now, since I am ‘getting into character’...” His tone hardened a bit. “Right. Good hunting.” Clicking the line off, Ada leaned back into her seat. It’s a comfy mask to fall back into, she thought. Too comfortable. I hope he doesn’t get stuck in it. It was all the concern she could spare for Elbridge right now, insufficient as it was. Her own mission came first. “Roy, our next stop is the VFW. Hit the road!”
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Jul 7, 2022 23:12
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