'Children of The Shroud' - A Dark Fantasy RP (Interest/Recruitment - CLOSED AND STARTED)

[Fappy]

Apparently the magic of this so-called Shroud wasn't all that precise, or rather, Selena's memory wasn't quite as clear as it needed to be. As a result of some quirky miscalculation, she found herself stumbling around in a broom closet upon exiting the dark gate. She made a rather large racket as she struggled to brace herself against the door and stumbled once more when she turned the doorknob. After taking a moment to gather herself she noticed she was in the upstairs hallway of the brothel.

Well, it sort of worked I guess.

Though no one had seen her, they no doubt heard her. It wasn't before long that she heard the heavy footfalls of someone making their way up the stairs. She started towards them, spotting Demeter as he turned the corner before he saw her, "Demeter!" He looked furious.

"Where the FUCK have you been, Selena!? Do you know---"

"Demeter!" She interrupted him as she threw herself down the hall at him. "Are you okay?!"

"I--what!?" He was taken aback. "Are you fuckin' drunk again, or..."

"No!" She fell into his reluctant embrace and shook her head, "No, I'm not I', just worried."

"What the fuck's gotten into you girl?! Where the fuck have you been?!" He looked more confused than angry now.

She withdrew her head and met his gaze, "Look, this is going to sound crazy, but I think... I know something terrible, Demeter. I-I'm so sorry, I don't know how to say it. I---"

Demeter shook her violently, "Say what?! Make sense, for fuck's sake!"

She braced herself against his shoulder to orient herself and continued, "I--you, you're going to die, Demeter."

"What the fuck are you on about!?" Now he was mad. "What are you trying to say to me?!"

"You... you're sick, Demeter. I-I don't think you have long, I can't say---"

Demeter grabbed her by the jaw and pulled her in close, "I don't fuckin' like this game your playin', Selena. The fuck are you on about, huh?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ABOUT!? YOU TRYIN' TO HIDE SOMETHING!?"

"What?!" Fear gripped Selena as she pulled away from him. "N-no! No! I, I was... I am just worried about you! Someone told me you were sick and---"

"WHO!?" He grabbed her by the shoulders.

She looked away from him and began shivering, "I-I-I don't... I can't say, I---" Selena's words died in her throat as Demeter delivered a swift slap across her face. She dropped her her knees holding her cheek, trying to hold back the tears. "Demeter, listen to me, I---"

Another backhand and she was lying on her elbow, "NO! Enough of your bullshit, Selena! I thought you were smarter than this!" He knelt down and grabbed her by the hair before pulling her in close. "You could have told me the truth, you know. You could have said how me bashin' in that stupid fuck's brains had made you too sad to work. I mean, yeah, I'd have probably smack the shit out of you for that but when you lie to me like this? Fuck Selena, what are you thinking."

The young prostitute was crying now, "I-I-I'm sorry Demeter, I am telling you the truth! I don't want you to d---" He threw her head down to the ground.

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He hit her again as she lay on the ground before picking her up by the hair once more and dragging her to her feet.

"P-p-please stop, I-I--" Her voice was subdued when he wrapped his hand around her throat and threw her up against the wall.

"YOU DO NOT LIE TO ME, *****!" He growled through his teeth. By this point a few other whores had gathered in the hall and were watching from afar. "GET BACK TO WORK!" They scurried away like scared mice.

Selena pleaded as best she could but her voice was weak, "D-demter, I-I-I am worried a-about you---"

"SHUT UP! I SAID, SHUT UP!" He tightened his grip around her neck. She was starting to get lightheaded. "NO MORE BULLSHIT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!"

Her consciousness fading quickly, Selena nodded. He snarled and released her. Clutching her throat with one hand, she held herself up with the other as she curled over her knees. He could have killed her if he hadn't let her go. He towered over her, scowling as she caught her breath, "I'm sorry, Demeter... it won't happen again." She croaked.

"Good." He said before turning around and leaving her alone in the hall.

Selena dragged herself up to the wall and leaned her back against it. After a long period of silence she began bawling into her palms. He knew. He knew he was dying. The way he had lashed out at her... he was weak. He couldn't accept it. he couldn't accept his fate.

It took her a long while to cry out the pain of her injuries and her heart, but eventually she pulled herself to her feet and started for 'home'. None of the others had asked if she was okay. Some of them didn't care, of course, but most of them were just afraid. They'd prefer not to think of what had happened at all. They knew it could have easily been them, after all.

When she arrived at her hovel of a home she was greeted by an overwhelming stench of blood. It had completely soaked through the floorboard. Unfortunate.

Ignoring it, Selena crawled into bed and curled up into a ball under her filthy comforter. She was scared, hurting and above all else, utterly alone. She didn't want to be like Demeter or the other girls. She wanted to be brave. She didn't want to have to lie to herself. She didn't want to have to pretend certain things weren't there when they obviously were.

She didn't want to be a coward.

Did she really possess the strength Ezrah claimed she had within her? She wasn't sure. What she did know, however, was that the truth of the world was there if she reached out for it. All she had to do was work up the courage to grab hold of it. To take the ugliness into herself, no matter how painful it turned out to be.

She had one day.

 

[Rufio's Ghost]

To say Langston was baffled by his mother's greeting would be an understatement. Throughout Kragenau Jeanne was practically infamous. Her peers considered her ruthless, calculating, and dangerously charismatic. He, like many others, had only known her to be composed and unflappable... up until now. Currently she was acting like less than a shadow of her former self; she was a pathetic mess, clinging to the front of her son's shirt like a frightened child. As soon as he entered the parlor she sprung from her chair and wrapped her short chubby arms around his slender waist, tightening her hold like a vice. He tried to squirm away, but his efforts quickly proved futile. She kept him close, pressing her plump face into his chest and blathering incoherently... That's when the crying started, a horrific wheezy cry that made his skin crawl. Slowly, he raised his arms out of the way and shot a helpless glance over where his father sat. He had rarely seen his mother cry... much less in hysterics. If anyone knew how to calm her down, it would be his father.

"Yes?" A thin grin spread across Theodore's weathered face.

Was he somehow amused by this? Langston continued to stare, silently pleading him to do something- anything about his mother's current state.

He shrugged, "Well, what did you expect? Disappearing and reappearing the way you did. You've put the two of us through quite a lot... Your mother is just expressing how pleased she is to have her son back. Is that so bad?" he allowed a short pause before adding, "Now, I know you're not emotional, but she is. So could you at least humor her?" All rhetorical questions- he never expected a word from his son, much less a complete sentence. He'd let their reunion last a bit longer. Jeanne clearly needed to cry it all out and he knew Langston would be able to stomach it.

Pouring himself some tea, he sat back in his chair, letting his body sink deeper into the cushion. His son may be a bit eccentric, or even a little off-putting, but having him around always put Theodore at ease. The boy's return lifted an immense burden off of his heart and mind- the old fool never realized how much he loved his son until he thought had had lost him. It seemed impossible; that even in the midst of all this chaos he had found peace, some semblance of normalcy. Langston's return was a small reassurance that everything would fall back into place, a sign that Juiniss was bringing order back to his home and Kragenau as a whole.

Jeanne's sobbing died down to a faint inconsistent whimper that drew Theodore out of his contemplative state. He spoke quietly, his rough voice losing its harsh edge, "Langston, I shouldn't have said any of that. What you've done here was no easy task. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you to not only to live with the Drowned, but to escape the district altogether. Your mother and I didn't give you enough credit... we believed, or more accurately, were convinced that you had died. And that's not your fault, it's ours. To be honest I'm pr-"

Without missing a beat, Jeanne turned her head and snapped back, "Well now, we wouldn't have been convinced of anything if that shrew hadn't lied! First that nasty letter and now this. Does she even know who she is fucking with?!"

Theodore's faint smile vanished, replaced by his usual scowl. He waved his hand dismissively, "Jeanne calm down. This isn't about you, so quit being so goddamn dramatic."

"Excuse me?"

He raised his voice, his frustration mounting, "You heard me. Calm. The. Fuck. Down. And-and give the boy some space. You know he hates being touched."

For a second she had nothing, and was speechless... but she recovered quickly. She rolled her eyes and despite, or rather, in spite of her husband?s comment, she drew her son in once more and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. However, Langston didn't notice, far more concerned by his father's sudden mood swing than his mother's games. He had always known the old man to be a tad reactive, perhaps a little aggressive, but not to this degree and never towards his mom. Both of them were acting all out of sorts- they weren't their normal selves and it wasn't just because he came home. There was something bigger happening, something else was bothering them... or scaring them?

His father's expression became flat as he motioned to a chair across from him and Jeanne, "Sit."

Langston took his seat immediately, fearing that even the slightest hint of disobedience would incite the old man.

"There is much for us discuss- but first I want to know everything that's happened since you left our doorstep. Everywhere you've been, everything you've done. And, I don't think I need to remind you, but don't skimp on the details. The story is in the details."

"Yes, of-of course..." Langston trailed off.

He already planned to tell them everything, planned out every damn thing he wanted to say, but no matter how much he prepared, he never had the right words when he needed them. Theodore let out a long winded sigh, "Sometimes I think you enjoy being difficult. Fine, I'll help- and maybe we will be able to get through this today."

Theodore began asking a steady stream of probing questions. He and Jeanne would have to piece the whole story together from one answer to the next.

"When you entered the car, did you notice anything strange about Marcus?" "Um, No." "About Sandra?" "No.""What side were you sitting on?" "Left? no, Right. Sorry." "What did the two of you talk about?" "Composers, mostly." "Mostly? What else?" "Huuh..Music theory, an-and how I'd miss playing the piano." "When did you notice there was a problem?" "...when someone opened the cab door, I suppose" "Did Sandra seem concerned when the car stopped?" "... No." "Did she pull out her pistol?" "Wait... What- Why would she have a-"

Langston was cut off, assaulted by the constant barrage of questions. He continued answering, but his mind was elsewhere. Had his parents anticipated that the trip would be this dangerous? That his life would be in immediate danger? ... and then decided to send him anyway. Why else would they give Sandra a gun? Wait, were they suggesting Sandra was somehow at fault? No, she would never... and she was dead anyhow. Shit, this was becoming uncomfortable. He really didn't care for the implications posed by this line of questioning.

Well...shit, Theodore could sense that he was lost his son's attention, but at least he was still getting answers. He'd get the whole story, even if it took all goddamn day. Theodore kept pressing, "How many gunshots?" "One." "What did you see after that?" "Nothing." "What did you hear?" "Silence." "Where was Sandra?" "Dead."

"Dead"

The word passed from Langston's lips and it was clearly his voice, but it sounded alien, as if it came from someone else entirely.

"What? Did you say she is dead?" It was his father, but he sounded muffled or distant. Langston's heart jumped into his throat, "Sandra, I said she- she's dead." She had been dead for weeks, but saying it aloud made it all so real. His hands were shaking- he felt the same as he did in that alley, when it all happened. Breathing erratically, he buried his face in his hands, "I'm sorry- I-I didn't do anything to stop it. I, I couldn't, I can't. I'm so sorry." His parent's comments were drowned out by his grief. He wept into his palms, repeating, "I'm sorry. I'm a coward. I-I'm sorry I'm such a coward."

 

[EnigmaticSevens]

Odd... Ezrah couldn't quite pin point the exact moment when Selena took her leave, then again, he couldn't accurately pin point the moment where he'd gone from drunkenly chatting with a friend to muttering a short discourse on the properties of flammable ethers to the stone table his face was currently smeared against. He peeled himself off the table with a pained groan, lurching backwards and staggering to his feet. That drink was sweet enough, and went down the throat smooth, but it had fucking teeth. And to think, some men lived for this feeling. Ezrah couldn't quite fathom the appeal, although wondering exactly where his feet would land with each lurching step was an interesting, if terrifying sort of game. Ayah, how many times had he seen others bumbling out of taverns, red faced and heaving, and how many times had he relieved such fools of their coin and anything else of value they happened to have on their person? A hell of a way to end a hell of a day, a day that seemed bound and determined to make him swallow every ounce of the pretensions he never thought he had. Was this what he'd expected to find when he'd slunk into the sewers earlier today? He couldn't be sure.... The look the man with the map had given him... he'd wanted that, that surety, that knowing, utter and complete. These people promised such knowing... though the road to it was pretty fucked.

The boy chuckled as he staggered down corridor after corridor, a quick, hard shove from a hooded figure sending him in one direction that was apparently better than all the others. Normally someone would've lost a hand, playing around like that, but that particular cultist could thank they're dark, backwater god that Ezrah was a surprisingly mild tempered drunk. The chuckle on the youth's lips grew into a half mad sort of giggling. Oh this was just... just beautiful, like a metaphor or something, or maybe a wake up call from the High Magus' spirit from whatever hell his revenant was moldering in. Here stands Ezrah Fifthchild, of the Fire Rekindled, of the Tomes Rewritten, of the Night of Blades, of the Exodus, of the Time of the Fall... scion of the Marked, holding their holiest grail, their undying dream in one hand, and his cock in the other, pissing over all of their hopes, all hail the High Magus, all hail the fucking future!

Ezrah fell backwards with a little flourish and somehow managed to land on something quite soft and cushiony rather than splitting his head open on the cold stones of the catacombs, a welcome surprise, the Gods were good! Well... at least one of them was, can't got having a prime soul up and vanish like that right on the eve of consumption! The boy's body sank deeper into the depths of something he now suspected was a bed, a sort of softness he'd only ever felt in the company of whores and rarely for an entire night, a gift he'd only gotten a handful of times from Risa. Nestled in such perfect softness, swaddled in a small bed that might as well have been the palanquin of some grand king, Ezrah found... quiet. The rampant giggling in his chest petered out and the liqueur born mists in his mind seemed to dissipate ever so slightly. Ah well... there it was then, he'd given himself the evening, more than enough time to whine, whinge and moan like a self-important little ****, there'd be no time for this tomorrow. Tomorrow began the doing and Ezrah could no longer hide from the question tomorrow would bring, but he'd be damned if he was going to be frightened of it anymore.

The boy slept, quick and hard, soft snores already echoing through the small cell the Shroud offered its guests. The boy slept and the boy dreamed, but the dreams were different. No longer did he hunt for treasures, for gold and ancient tomes, for all the secret things of the world he longed for, for all the dragon hoards of a half dozen stories. No, Ezrah dreamed of new problems, of the way of things, of the making and the unmaking, of plans and potentials. For the first time in as long as he could recall, Ezrah forgot all about the hoards and dreamed only of dragons.

 

[Terratina.]

Spoiler: Swyer Household Theme

Sally shouted at the sleeping Skylar, "The 'ell 're you doin' 'ere?!"

She would have carried on her titrate but it was early in the morning. The master and mistress of the house were still asleep, not counting little Dwight. If any of them woke up, it would probably be the end for Skylar. It would be something worse than being killed by any of Gilliajlia's hounds. The master himself would do the deed - murdered by her own parents.

Just like drowning a kitten...

Skylar stirred and immediately backed away from Sally, running on nothing but instinct. However, as soon as she recognised the person standing over her, she stopped. Only a year had passed, but Skylar couldn't help but feel that so much had changed. At least for her. Skylar stood up, a wistful look in her eye as she addressed the servant.

"I found somewhere, somewhere that'll take me in, Sally. But it'll... change me. I just wanted to come here one last time."

"Wot 're ya sayin'? Some pimp took ya in?" Sally frowned.

Skylar shook her head, "No, I can't say. I'm sorry. However, it's a home and that's all that matters."

"You 'ave ter go then." Sally solemnly nodded, "'Fore the Master wakes."

"Sally..." Skylar said as her head turned in the direction of her parents' bedroom, "Could I just stay here for a little while?"

The maid began to object, however, she then moved away from Skylar towards a chest of draws and handled the girl-woman some clothes: some rough hewn garments for everyday wear and one of Sally's one maid uniforms. They quickly embraced afterwards. Servant, punching bag, advisor and... friend, Sally had been all of those things.

'I was too harsh on you.'​

There were no smiles as the embrace was broken.

"Stay quiet and stay close by." Sally whispered.

Skylar nodded, put the uniform on and followed the old maid into the kitchen.

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

The Next Morning...

By recent standards, Tobias Cavanaugh had got a decent night's sleep last night. Three whole hours, it made him feel positively lazy! Flippancy aside, the volume of work that was being piled upon him day after day was starting to take its toll. Heavy rings hung under his eyes, and he'd cut himself shaving this morning in no fewer than half a dozen places. These days, he wore a hunched, haggard gait that made him look quite a bit older than his thirty-three years. He may have been a pious man in his own way, but not for the first time, Tobias inwardly pissed on the name of Gilliajlia and all her faithful, for they were the root of his troubles.

Something decisive was going to have to be done about all of these blasted purges soon, and he was not looking forward to it. As Senior Under-secretary to the High Arbiter of the Temple of Maeverniss, Tobias was cursed with a great deal of responsibility over keeping order in Kragenau. A thankless task, more so than ever these days. He may have been the authority on order, but he had no way in which to enforce it, not without going cap in hand to the Arsenal of Northos for more troops, and to the Temples of Juiniss, Denissa, or Zapatos for coin. The founding of the Chantry of Seldus may have been the ideal compromise for ending the War of Enlightenment, crating a neutral space where the hierarchy of all the Temples could come together to form and exert a unified consensus, but trying to get anything done through it could so easily become like wading through a endless marsh of bureaucracy. Those who followed Zapatos had too much in common with Gilliajlia, despite appearing tamer on the outside (as Gilliajlia herself had once seemed) to stand up against the fanatics; too many of the merchants and masons of Juiniss were tied to Gilliajlia through marriage; the old warriors of Northos were archaic, short-sighted fools, still scoffing at Gilliajlia's Temple, but neither seeing any honour or glory in raising arms against them. Of all the friends on this matter that Tobias needed in the Chantry, Denissa's faithful were the only decent bet, and even their support would not come cheaply. The spiralling tensions may have been bad for Kragenau's oversees trade, something guaranteed to win you no allies within Denissa's followers. However, the upjumped fishmongers had always held a grudge within the Chantry, feeling that they should always have had a larger voice, so much of Kragenau's economy being dependant on the docks, rather than always being forced to play second fiddle to Juiniss' giants of industry. Besides, if Denissa and Northos are divided on an issue, who does Kragenau's formidable Navy side with when push comes to shove?

Politics was a messy business sometimes.

It shouldn't have been allowed to get this far. Ever since the Chantry's inception, The Temple of Gilliajlia had always been paid little more than lip service. After all, what did they bring to the table? It was Zapatos who brought bountiful harvests, Denissa secured trade with foreign kingdoms and empires, masons of Juiniss who built the walls around Kragenau, and soldiers of Northos who manned them. There was risk in making any one of them displeased, which more often than not kept all sides in check, except Gilliajlia. Her priestesses seemed to scarcely have political concerns, and when they did, the rest had little concern in ignoring them. It was short-sighted of the all, however, to not see how the influence of a Temple so obsessed with image, could grow as Kragenau entered an age of consumption. For all the pride of its builders and penny-pushers, Kragenau's industry was receding. Status had now become the father of merit, rather than the other way around. Gilliajlia's image, over the traditional idols of strength and hard work, was now the image that the aspirational members of Kragenau's society longed to live up to, and that brought the Temple some very wealthy connections. When the Temple started getting overrun by its radicals, those connections started buying weapons, and even more dangerous, spies and provocateurs within the other Temples. Those who predicted what was coming with fear, Tobias' own father being one of them, were shouted down by the idiots within the Chantry, who weren't concerned so long as the violence continued to be directed against those who were seen as a nuisance anyway, and the sycophants, who were already hedging their bets on just how high Gilliajlia could rise, their curiosity peaked even higher by flashes of gold from Gilliajlia's operatives. Now, things stood on the verge of complete chaos, and it was up to Tobias to stop it from happening on his watch.

The thick blanket of cloud that had darkened Kragenau's skies last night had now descended into a thick morning mist, which took on a hue of putrid yellow, thanks to the pollution and the glare of the streetlamps trying to fight their way through the smog. Tobias wound his way through Mid-Town, head bowed and arms huddled under his thick cloak against the chill, muttering dark curses under his breath. While he believed in the justice of Maeverniss fervently, he had no time for the silly, gutter superstitions that had formed like a fungus between the toes of the true faith. Old Wives Tales about curses and dark magics lurking where foul whether obscured the stars were just that. If the astrologers of the Chantry, who had spent centuries studying the stars and planets, and their significance to Seldus, had nothing to say on the subject, then Tobias would continue to scoff. It did make for a bloody unpleasant morning trip into work though!

Passing a narrow alleyway, Tobias walked a few paces, before he stopped, compelled to go back for another look. He could have sworn he saw something. Walking back, he peered down into the side street, to see a light cutting through the fog, not muddy and yellow like that of the street lamps. This light was stronger, a pure, blinding white, and it danced.

The light began to move away, and despite himself, Tobias was following it down the alley. He couldn't explain why, only that he mustn't let the light disappear. The light was the glow of his late mother's smile; it was the warmth of the candle that she would light beside his bed if ever he had been afraid of nightmares. The light was joy, the light was love...

The light was gone. In fact, all light was gone, and Tobias found that his feet had carried him to a place he did not recognise, and that he could see no way out. Nothing jumped out of the darkness at him, nothing screeched or roared or clattered, but Tobias knew that this place meant him ill. Hairs on the back of his neck, whispers in his mind, told him that he must leave here at once. He began to move, slowly at first, then hurried, then panicking. Every direction he turned only seemed to take him deeper into darkness, drawing him closer to that invisible, yet undeniable peril. He broke into a run, and their was a crash as Tobias flung himself straight into a cluster of bins, ending with him sprawled on the slick cobbles, covered in filth and muck. It was then that two hooded figures, a man and a woman, appeared out of the darkness in front of him.

"W-w-who are you?!" Tobias demanded, a hand reaching inside his cloak to curl around the hilt of his dagger.

"Ooh! Ooh Brutus! Look at how scared he is!" The woman squeaked, clapping her hands together rapidly. "I can feel him Brutus. Inside my head he's screaming, and I'm talking to his nightmares!" The idea, nonsense as it was, seemed to delight her.

The man she had called Brutus groaned. Even though Tobias could not see his face clearly, he could tell that he was rolling his eyes.

"Gods woman! The man's gonna suffer enough as it is. He doesn't need to hear you harping on."

"I-I am not afraid!" Tobias answered, unconvincingly. "Declare yourselves, fiends!"

Tobias' jaw slackened, and his eyes widened in shock, as when he tried to draw out his dagger, his hand came back holding only empty air, refusing to grip on his command. His arms were no longer his own, and they were reaching, slowly, for his face.

That was when Tobias noticed their marks.

"No." he whimpered "God's no! Maeverniss shield me!"

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that." Brutus replied, leering, as Tobias' own hands clamped over his mouth and nose, suffocating him.

"Drat!" Minerva pouted "You ended that too quickly, now I can't hear him screaming any more."

"Plenty more where he came from." Brutus reassured her, as he bent down over the corpse. After a second's concentration, Tobias features, followed by his entire body, began to melt like wax, and then, like smoke, they rose up, draping over Brutus in a formless cloud, before reforming detail as they settled. The fabric of his cloak, the thin, pointed nose and slicked hair going grey around the edges. Even the cuts from the morning's shave reappeared, preserved. After a few moments, the body of Tobias Cavanaugh was gone, and a perfect doppelgänger stood in his place, wearing Brutus' trademark leer.

"How do I look?" he asked Minerva, who clapped her hands again, and giggled.

=========================================================================================================================

The Old Man rose from little slumber, though he found he required less these days. As the years, and decades, centuries even, went by for him beyond any reasonable lifespan, it seemed like even sleep was being denied to him as a way of passing the time. He knew, without anyone reporting to him, that Brutus and Miranda had accomplished their task. It was time to collect all those who would come from the night before. It was time for The Shroud to see a new generation.

 

[Daystar Clarion]

Sparrow legs hung loosely over the edge of the baker's rooftop as she nibbled at the small loaf of bread in her hands. Compared to yesterday's feast, the bread was merely functioning as a buffer between her and hunger, there was no enjoyment in it.

Finishing off the bread, she clapped the flour from her hands. For the first time in a while, Sparrow didn't really know what to do with herself, she had no idea when the Shroud would come for her answer.

Hopping up onto her feet, the girl ran her hands through her hair before pulling the hood over her head. She wondered what the others were doing, if they had already made their decisions, she didn't doubt the possibility of becoming an assassin was a daunting prospect, especially sporting abilities like those on display yesterday.

The young girl, however, was excited. Change was coming to her life, the chance to make something of herself, to make a real difference for her and her mother.

Sparrow ended up divulging very little to her mother about her new employment prospects, only that the hours were all over the place and that she may not come home on some nights. Something to do with how the apothecary ingredients have to be harvested at certain times of the day? She had lied, yes, but she doubted her mother would check Sparrow's 'facts' or travel to the opposite side of the district to check in on her at a place that didn't exist.

The young girl furrowed her brow. She didn't want to lie to her mother, but she lacked the verbal acumen to explain what could be best described as an assassin cult steeped and forbidden magic, headed by an ancient deity who lay claim to the souls of the dead.

Eventually, she'd know eventually, Sparrow just needed time to figure out the best way to do it. Hopefully the possibility of new living arrangements and retirement from her current means of making money would soften the blow.

Sparrow lazily traversed the the rooftops in an attempt to work off the heavy lump of bread in her stomach, might as well get some exercise if nothing else.

 

[Fappy]

Selena woke the next morning with a dull pain in the back of her head. The trauma from Demeter's wrath was still fresh. How long had she slept? Despite the sunlight creeping into her room, she didn't feel at all rested. After trying and failing to fall back to sleep, she eventually gave up. The light of the sun coupled with the nauseating stench of blood was just too much to deal with.

After dragging herself out of bed she took a quick shower. It was ice cold again, so there was no point dilly dallying. She wasn't sure if Demeter had expected her to work today, but she didn't care. Today was her last day as a normal woman. She would spend it contemplating and... living.

Eager to escape her creepy apartment, Selena threw on a modest black dress and black pumps before heading out. She wasn't sure where exactly she was going, she just knew she was hungry. She figured she'd follow her nose.

She didn't get very far in her search before a familiar face caught her eye. Standing in an alcove across the street from her building, she spotted Risa wearing a very conspicuous coat. It was as if she didn't want Selena to recognize her. After making eye contact quite deliberately, Risa couldn't feign anonymity any longer. She looked to her left and right quickly before crossing the street, "Hey, Risa... is everything okay?"

"How did you know!?" Risa blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Selena was taken aback.

Risa furrowed her brow and checked their surroundings once more before continuing, "Last night, at the brothel. You told Demeter he was dying. How did you know about the poison?"

"Poison?" Selena asked dumbfounded. "No, he's got a disease, Risa... I don't know what you're talking about."

The young mother covered her mouth with both hands, "Shit! Y-y-you didn't hear that! W-w-w-we never spoke!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on!" Selena tried to calm Risa who was in the process of making her escape. "What's going on? What poison?" Risa held her hand close to her chest as her eyes darted around the street. She looked terrified. "Look, do you want to discuss this inside? You can trust me, Risa." After a long hesitation the girl nodded. "Good. Follow me."

Once in her apartment, Risa told Selena about how she had purchased some poison from a man she refused to name and was planning to kill Demeter with it. She would have done it sooner, but she was still building up the nerves to kill him. After all, she was very much in the same boat as Selena. She was... shamefully grateful for his protection.

"Look, he's going to die regardless," Selena began. "Is there really a point in poisoning him now?"

Risa shook her head, "No, I don't suppose there is. Do you... do you know what he has?"

"Yeah, Scud."

"Gods..." Risa muttered. "They say its very---"

"I know." Selena frowned.

"Maybe we should kill him then. I mean, I don't want him to suffer... I just want to protect my children from him."

Selena nodded in agreement. It made sense. It would be a mercy, really.

A prolonged silence followed as the two women contemplated their options. Eventually, Selena spoke up. She had made her mind, "I'll do it."

"No," Risa protested. "It was my idea in the first place. I can't let you become a murderer."

If you only knew.

"Think of your kids, Risa," Selena countered. "If this fails and you get found out, what do you think he will do to them when he's through with you?" She frowned. "No, it has to be me."

Risa knew she was right. She would sacrifice Selena any day for her children. No question. Though she hated herself for saying it, she agreed, "Okay. You're right. Let me know what I can do to help, if anything."

Selena rubbed her chin in thought, "There might be something."

 

[Dogmatic99]

Morning had come and it looked like Maggy had survived the night. Besides a couple times when a snapping twig or the sounds of distant laughter carried on the wind that stirred the young girl from her light sleep, everything seemed peaceful. This was much nicer than the ever waking streets of the city proper. Maybe Maggy should have packed begging in and wandered away to become a mad forest woman instead? Children would have told stories about staying away in case she cooked them in a stew, the trees would have offered cover from the elements and she could have had all the berries and mushrooms she could eat. Learning to catch squirrels would come later.

Oh but she'd miss the sea air too much. There'd only been a handful of days that Maggy could remember that she couldn't hear the waves, none of them were good days. Though those had been in short supply for most of Maggy's life. She'd be tempted to start thinking that what you call a good day was relative depending on your life if she was educated enough. But she wasn't, so she didn't. Instead she strolled along the coastal path, the cold dirt barely bothering Maggy's callused naked soles.

After a while walking Maggy found herself a spot by the side of the path looking out to the bay. Legs crossed and shoulders slouched in typical beggar fashion. Maybe some generous rich folk types would pass her by on a morning walk and give Maggy a bit of food money. Her stomach would appreciate it, the small feast from yesterday had been a fleeting thing apparently.

Still part of her hoped to keep this isolation for a while longer. It was quiet out here, away from the crowds, safe.

"They're gunna want they're answer t'day." Maggy muttered to herself. "Think yuh'cn kill someone?... Maybe."

Plenty of people had tried to hurt her if not kill her somehow in the past. And like anyone else Maggy had had her moments of quiet, heated, rage when she was alone afterwards. Imagining what she would have done to them, what she wanted to do... if she could have. Your mind always likes to torture you with these things after it's too late. At least hers did. So maybe she could do it for real now.

She didn't spend long thinking on it. She'd seen their work, met their demon god and lived. There were only shreds of dignity left for her to lose at this point. Might as well keep clawing on for a second chance. They said they'd find her. So Maggy waited and took her time to enjoy the sun and wonder why she hadn't done so more often.

 

[Ruedyn]

Giles wandered through the streets, whistling absentmindedly. The weight of a new knife in his pocket, a now cleaner jacket, he took off his hat and pushed the hair off of his forehead. Life was looking up, in a way. And was about to go downhill quick so far as he could tell. Lost his drug source and was about to get into a cult. With every pro and con that that came with. Mostly cons, but yet still somehow better than life on the streets.

At least he had a god on his side. And a lot less politics, it seemed. Old Blind Man tells you to kill a guy, you do it, you get to enjoy a short but luxurious life in a stone dungeon. Better than a shed in an alley with magic tricks. Could probably keep doing magic. Maybe get actual magic, some real shit courtesy of a God. Giles grinned to himself, he could be an awesome assassin. Was that a step up or down from thief?

Giles stopped at a drain, which was ironically surrounded by filth. He looked up to the sky, not that late. And, chances were there were guys around his apartment. Might as well stay around there, right? He picked a street corner, three grimy balls rolling out from his sleeve. Giles put on a grin, and began juggling with in tune to his whistling.

He really hoped he could quit his day job soon.

 

[Rufio's Ghost]

Theodore and Jeanne exchanged glances, hoping the other would offer to comfort the boy. After a few seconds passed, Jeanne relented, "Fine." She leaned forward in her chair and cooed, "Langston dear... you need to calm down. Sandra is alive and well, so you needn't worry about her." The good news changed nothing. The poor young man was still hunched over crying, broken up over a death that never happened. Jeanne rolled her eyes, maybe her husband was right, he just enjoyed being difficult. "Langston? She's fine, sweetie. Did you hear me? You can stop fussing now."

"No. He obviously didn't hear you." Theodore snapped. If there was anything he would change about his wife, it would be her parenting skills. It was a shame, that such a great wife could be such a shitty mother. He rose abruptly from his chair and crossed the room, "You can't be so passive when he's panicked like this. Not that you should be overly assertive either... Just try to be comforting and make your presence known."

Kneeling in front of his son's chair he grabbed a hold of Langston's wrists. They felt frail in Theodore's meaty palms- he could scarcely believe that someone as lean as Langston had somehow managed to become thinner. The poor boy looked more wretched than ever, and there was little anyone could do to help him... but that didn't mean Theodore wasn't going to try. He wasn't Jeanne after all.

He began to whisper, explaining the situation in an impassive manner. He repeated himself and would continue to repeat himself until it was clear that his words had sunk in. Other then that, there wasn't much else he could do.These fits normally ran their own course, making them more a test of patience than anything else. When it finally seemed that his words had reached Langston he stood up and began to brush the wrinkles out of his pant legs.

"So, she's fine... Sandra I mean. She's perfectly safe a-and everything is fine." Langston looked up at Theodore, his eyes still red and swollen.

Theodore gave a slow nod, "She seemed great last we spoke." Shrugging his shoulders he added,"I have no reason to believe any of that's changed."

Overcome with a mixture of joy and relief Langston found himself speechless. He had been so convinced that she had died that he almost didn't believe his father. All of it was too good to be true. Hearing that she was alive was one thing, but actually seeing would alive, in the flesh, would lay all his doubts to rest. "Can we invite her over, or er- send a carriage to pick her up! I want her to hear all this as well. Sh-She'll be absolutely fascinated by-" Langston began rambling as he rose out of his seat.

"Langston, would you sit down." Theodore said with a hint of disdain. The kid was so easily distracted, and Theodore couldn't be bothered with every single one of his whims, "We've wasted enough time already, so let's not waste any more."

Langston wrung his hands together, "Um- well, could we drop her a line at least? Mum was using the telegraph earlier, so everything is still out. It won't take long at all."

"Langston..." his response came out as a deep, low growl.

Clearly the answer was no, however, his father technically never said no... It would just take a minute anyway, and then he'd be right back. Just one minute. He began to slink off towards the door, "Alright then, I'll just be a minute."

"I SAID SIT THE FUCK DOWN." Theodore roared, his voice booming throughout the South Wing as he grabbed onto Langston's shoulders and forced him back into the chair. He held him there, locking eyes with his son.

"TEDDY! What is wrong with you? What is it that you've got so firmly planted up your ass?!"

Releasing Langston from his clutches, he began to walk towards his wife, his voice still raised, "What's up my ass? What ISN'T up my ass?! I've got lightheaded fainting wife, a panicked dysfunctional son- who, as you may already know, shouldn't be here- No, ha, can't be here." He sounded manic, his voice going up an octave, "The High Mason was assassinated in broad daylight, YESTERDAY, and ALL of Krangenau is in an uproar. Oh, and in case you've forgotten, I am still fighting tooth and nail to keep my goddamn nomination." As he continued, his yell devolved into little more than an exacerbated plea, he needed her to understand, "Jeanne, you know how much scrutiny we are under... if anyone sees him, we are done. Our life's work. Gone. Shit, our lives even." He gestured back at Langston, his voice raised once more, "I'm stretched so thin Jeanne, and I've worked so damn hard, yet I am still willing to sacrifice everything. EVERYTHING for a boy who he has the gall to defy me? I swear, If I were a lesser man I would beat the ever living shit out of him!" He yelled back at Langston, "Why are you so damn difficult- What the fuck were you thinking, boy?!"

Jeanne remained aloof. Ignoring her husbands complaints, she directed her attention to Langston, who had sunk so deep into his chair he appeared to be half his normal height. "What your father meant to say is that Sandra is currently overseas. Trying to contact her right now is pointless, and thus a waste of time. You can write her later tonight, just copy the return address from her last letter." Though she was speaking to Langston, she allowed her gaze to fall on Theodore, "Now that all of that is cleared up I think it would be best if you returned to you room. Your father is in no state to be entertaining anyone." Allowing for a dramatic pause she casually added, "And don't worry dear, I'll call you down when he's finished with his tantrum."

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry Jeanne. Don't make him leave... I don't want him to leave."

The tone she adopted was so indifferent that it was almost cruel, "Don't ask me. I'm not making him do a thing. He's an adult. He can do as he likes."

"I'm sorry. Please stay- I'm asking you to stay."

Too confused to really consider his options Langtson simply said okay. He wanted nothing more than to retreat back to his quarters, but his dad was clearly very sorry... he didn't want him to feel guilty and he couldn't just ignore his father's wishes.

"Well, now that all of that is settled, let's get back to your story." At least his mother was acting normal again, cold, manipulative, and to the point. "What did you do after Sandra 'died'?"

Langston began to explain, but stopped suddenly, thinking of something he had wanted to ask, "Mum! Sorry to interrupt- it's just, I want to ask before I forget. You said Sandra sent a letter. I'd like to read it, if that's okay." Remembering his father's recent 'fit' he blurted, "Um, After we are done here, of course." There was no way he'd make that mistake twice.

His mother was taken aback, she stuttered before she could get a sentence out, "Well, we've lost the letter- Teddy, he tossed the letter without even thinking." Her voice steadied, "We've been under a lot of stress lately. Some things end up slipping through the cracks... Anyway- what were you saying before?"

The way she glossed over the issue was suspicious, although Langston wasn't going to contest it or pursue it further. He'd had enough arguing for one day. Instead he decided to tell his parents about the Drowned District. Jeanne took over the task of asking questions, while his father remained relatively silent. Though his mother was still drawing the story out of him one question at a time, it progressively got easier. When he began talking about the man with the skull tattoo his face lit up, and he became uncharacteristically enthusiastic. Speaking quickly his words spilled forth in an uninterrupted steam, almost effortlessly.

Needless to say, Jeanne was shocked... he was speaking normally, without any input from her- no prompting whatsoever. In conversation, Langtson was extremely distant, like he wasn't invested in anything or anyone around him- but apparently something had changed that or could change it. As he explained how he pulled a torch off the wall... in excruciating detail... Jeanne began wondering what Langston could have found that he would be so passionate about, or who he found that he could be so passionate about. Jeanne concealed a small smirk, now she was very curious about her son's little misadventure.

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

"You climb well." The grey robed assassin said, as he appeared in a whirl of gaseous shadow in front of Sparrow. He was perched on a old, crooked chimney stack, looking likely to crumble and fall any day soon, as the rot from the street level below snaked its tendrils to the very rooftops of the street, and it did not seem to bother him in the slightest.

"My name is Darius, by the way." His smile, just visible beneath his cowl, was friendly. "I wonder, what was it that first drew you up to these surroundings? Were you trying to escape the reach of something that frightened you, or did you just want to see what the world looked like, from a different perspective?"

===========================================================================================================================

As the two whores nattered, a figure in black robes strode calmly through the door, resting with his back to the wall and arms folded, across the room from Selena. As he smirked at the pair of them, Risa carried on with no inkling as to the presence of this third attendant. Only Selena could see him.

===========================================================================================================================

The beggar girl on the street corner was approached by a scrawny street cat, striped mud brown and dull ochre. The animal stopped a foot from her, fixing her with a stare far to intent from any normal animal. After yowling once, the cat slowly, deliberately, it's gaze not breaking from the girl, held up its left paw and licked it, before turning to walk back the way it had come down the alley, it's tail held high.

=========================================================================================================================

Mid-way into his juggling routine, one of the trickster's balls suddenly sped away from him, as if caught by a gust of wind (through the air was calm and thick today). The ball bounced. Once, twice, before stuttering into a roll that took it down into the drain, a few paces from where he stood.

=========================================================================================================================

As Langston told his tale, his eye was caught by an indistinct fluttering, coming from a dark corner at the far end of the room. Hanging from the ceiling there, unseen by either of his parents, was a bat, hanging upside down from the ceiling. It neither chirped nor screeched, nor made any sound at all, but instead fixed Langston with a stare, which gripped him even coming at a distance from so small a creature. With a flourish, the animal moved its wing up, or rather down, towards its face. Anatomy made it difficult to be certain, but it appeared to be holding a finger up to its mouth, as if to shush him.

 

[EnigmaticSevens]

"Willow, willow bleed for me, humble healer of the trees. Shed your skin and dry it still, grind it slowly 'pon the wheel...."

Ezrah hummed the old tune to himself as he walked along the corridors of his new world. Thus far he'd found a few more hallways lined with cells he suspected were similar to the one he'd slept in, the great hall where he'd feasted and drank the night before, and a somewhat small room that seemed like a sort of communal living space. He'd been walking for nearly and hour now. A wry grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, he'd heard of such places in the Crone's stories, mirror space, rooms that folded in upon themselves, a way to seal secrets away from the uninitiated. Ezrah didn't mind it really, he enjoyed the walking really, the simple motion. It was odd, walking about in a place so freely, a place that no doubt housed more means of death than even his vivid imagination could provide, and yet a place where he felt perfectly safe. He'd slept hard here and woke refreshed, the black cordial for all its potency surprisingly gentle the morning after.

"Mix with heather, crush it fine, drown it in a bitter wine. Burning brew and ghostly brine, wile away these pains of mine...."

Something about the quiet of this place soothed Ezrah, and though he suspected watchers at every corner, the lack of any visible snoop offered at least an illusion of privacy. Well, at least this lot were considerate enough to leave a fellow to his thoughts for a bit before he offered up a chunk of his soul to a mad god, that had to speak for something. Odd though, the dance with destiny set for this evening was actually the most pressing then bouncing around in his thoughts at the moment. He'd gone to sleep hoping for dreams of dragons and grand purpose, and yet the only thing that came to mind were memories of the Crone. This was one of her songs, one the random ditties she used to keep stock of a life's worth of protocols and recipes. Ezrah hadn't dreamed of the Crone in ages, and yet last night... he could have sworn he was with her once more. He could taste the flint on the air of the fire powder as he folded more and more and more of it into her clothing, could feel the withered fingers wiping away the tears on his cheeks.... The old woman hadn't shaken in the end, hadn't quailed or faltered, and her last thoughts were of light and fire. There had been more than a simple want of one's own Unmaking in the Crone's final act, it had been a scream of sorts, a rage against a sickness so many had grown accustomed to. The Crone had been a healer til the end, you didn't coddle rot, your excised it. The almost smile on Ezrah's lips deepened somewhat. He'd looked for magic in the words of the High Magus for all of his life, and stumbled into the real thing by almost sheer chance. Perhaps the key to living a life worth dying for was just as close and just as unexpected.

 

[Daystar Clarion]

"You climb well."

Sparrow came to a halt as a cloaked form appeared before her.

'Well that was quick'

The girl looked up at the man, perched on a chimney stack. Sparrow tried her best to seem relaxed, aloof even, her arms hanging loosely by her sides.

"My name is Darius, by the way."

The man's smile put the girl at ease somewhat, despite the cowl.

"I wonder, what was it that first drew you up to these surroundings? Were you trying to escape the reach of something that frightened you, or did you just want to see what the world looked like, from a different perspective?"

Sparrow tilted her head slightly, averting her eyes as she though on the man's question. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shrugged her shoulders. Was she going to be asked a lot of questions like this?

"I dunno, I just..." She looked up at the man. "It's not as loud up 'ere, I like the quiet." She looked down at the roof tiles beneath her feet. "I feel like I can think better up 'ere." That sounded dumb, what would a girl like her have to think about? For all the talk of dark gods and strange powers, the girl was all very accepting of these things. Was it because she was a child? Adults tended to be a lot more set in their thoughts, she found, while her's always felt so malleable, perhaps that was a good thing, why she was chosen, she didn't really know.

Smiling slightly, she looked back up at Darius. "I'm Sparrow, nice t'meet ya, Darius." If she was going to be spending a lot of time with these people, she should at least make the effort to endear herself. Maybe even make some friends, if such a thing was possible for her.

 

[Dogmatic99]

It took Maggy a few minutes to register what might be happening here. Animals tended to skirt around her as it was, they recognized the competition Maggy guessed. Her eyes darted up and down the street just to check the little fur ball wasn't getting transfixed by something else like a shiny object. Didn't look like it.

It could be them right? This could easily be a signal, after all the other strange horrors she'd seen the night before a magical cat wasn't so far for Maggy's withered imagination to stretch. The girl lurched to her feet as her possible guide made to leave with all the haughty self assurance that was expected of a cat.

"Hey, hey." Maggy called out to it in a little voice so as not to spook the thing. She followed after just quick enough to keep pace but not to crowd the little animal, offering her hand out and making that clicking noise everyone made if they wanted to attract an animal's attention. After all, even if it turned out to just be a regular cat, there was still good eatin' on it.

"Where you goin' li'l one?" She called to it softly.

 

[Ruedyn]

"Wha- No, shit!" Giles dropped his other balls and reached his arm out quickly to catch it. Unfortunately, being slower than the wind meant that was pointless. Though, it didn't seem like it was wind, it being a pretty calm day. Hadn't even felt a breeze, in this alley where that sort of gust wouldn't even reach. Giles' eyes darted around the dirty alley, looking for a cause as he crouched down.

"Myalviss," he whispered accusingly, glaring at the ground, "if you're fucking with me, I will do... probably nothing, but I will ***** a lot in my head and you said you could read my mind!"

Giles looked up to see a couple rushing off and trying hard to avoid looking at him. That was going to be another hit to the ole reputation. Lovely. He sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes and wandering towards the drain. They were just holes in the ground to let rain water into the sewers, Giles remembered, most of the drain grates being rusted over. Some, however, were easy to yank off for smuggling. The magician could see how guards could miss that, the bottom of it being very much in arms reach, as he demonstrated, groping in the dark for his missing ball.

"I hope you're enjoying the phallic imagery, wanker!" Giles hissed angrily, using words he remembered being explained to him by a surprisingly educated and patient prostitute he talked to once. She was nice, but there was a massive age gap. Speaking of gaps, the grate ones weren't big enough for proper arm waggling once it came to the shoulder he painfully realized, pulling out and stretching it with a slight wince. Giles fell back and sighed again, enjoying a moments rest.

 

[Fappy]

Selena spotted her "guest" just as soon as he had appeared but chose to ignore his presence lest she worry Risa. Could she see him? It didn't appear so.

What are you doing here?

The two women went over the plan that they'd enact later that night before Selena saw Risa out. They'd meet up at the brothel in a few hours.

Once she was gone, Selena closed the front door and turned to face the shady figure. She crossed her arms over her chest, "Let me finish my business here and I will return to the Shroud. I'll have my answer by the time I am done with this." She grit her teeth. "Whether I can go through with it or not... well, if I can't even do this, I can't imagine your master will have much use for me."

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

"if I can't even do this, I can't imagine your master will have much use for me."

The robed figure smiled.

"I have a question." he told her, leaning forward a little off the wall. "Why now? Why, after we have already given you an easier way out, after you've found out it's not even necessary, do you decide that Demeter must die, and at your hand? For years, that man has belittled you for his own profit. He has beaten you, threatened you with abominations, killed men in front of you just to make a point..."

The man took a moment to gauge her reaction.

"We have been watching you for some time, Selena, and I assure you, that if our minds were not already made up about your usefulness, I would not be standing here. However, this cannot wait. We'll have you back in time for your little gambit, but I must have your answer now."

===========================================================================================================================

As he reached down into the drain, Giles felt another hand, a cold hand, grasp his wrist, before he had time to react, he experienced the sudden sensation of being squeezed through a very narrow space. His whole body was compressing in on itself, until it was no more than a speck, before it expanded, and in the next instant it was as if he was spread out everywhere at once...

Another moment after than, and Giles was once more back in one of the Sanctuary's many eerily lit hallways, able to breathe again. There was still a grip around his wrist, and now, standing opposite him, there was a petite female figure clad in mousey brown robes. She smiled beneath her hood, and with her free hand, tossed Giles back the juggling ball.

========================================================================================================================

"Where you goin' li'l one?"

At the sound of her voice, the cat turned, ad appeared to cock an eyebrow (or at least what passed for one on a cat) at Maggie in disdain.

They were now down a dark alley, with no-one around. Looking all around, pacing in a circle, as if to confirm this, the cat then sat back down on its haunches, and made as if to cough up a fur ball. It was a high, vile, wretched sound. However, instead of a clump of hair and phlegm that emerged from the cat, black smoke began to pout out of its mouth, eyes, nostrils and ears. Formless, shifting, the smoke danced with itself for a moment before taking on the first signs of a humanoid appearance. The cat, now returned to its senses, took one look at this spectacle and hissed in horror, it's back arched, before taking flight down the alley.

The form began adding detail, step by step, until a willowy figure in robes of deep violet, stood opposite Maggie in the alley. Wordlessly, she stretched out a hand.

=========================================================================================================================

"I'm Sparrow, nice t'meet ya, Darius."

Darius smiled more broadly. Something in her answers had pleased him.

"So." he said, hopping off the chimney stack with learned grace. "You have your answer..."

Whether or not this was a question for Sparrow was left somewhat ambiguous in his tone.

=========================================================================================================================

The waif girl escorting Giles soon came across Ezrah strolling down the halls.

"Would you like to come with us?" she called out to him. "It's very easy for newcomers to get lost in this place. Little things like 'up' and 'down' aren't always what they seem sometimes."

She tittered.

 

[Ruedyn]

"Wha-" Giles looked around, at the stone surrounding them. "Y-ya know, holding hands is pretty innocent on a first date." Giles gave a nervous smile, holding his hand close to his side. Trying to use humor to look like he wasn't scared and caught off guard: Failed.

Was I just drugged? No, no that was probably their magic. Which was real, and not drugs. Giles took another quick scan of the strange stone corridors, unsettling and strange in the sewers, but at least it didn't smell like the rest. He tried rubbing at his wrist-

'Why so cold? Weren't corpses cold?' Giles felt her hand, pulling back instantly. He reflexively caught the ball when she lobbed it, and went along without complaint as she tugged him along. He was looking quite pale in the poor lighting, magic to him was always illusions, and in his dreams he could only imagine teleporting and lobbing fire around. This was a different level entirely, no wonder they could get away with a goddamn underground maze. Giles could only imagine what he could get into with powers like that...

"Would you like to come with us? It's very easy for newcomers to get lost in this place. Little things like 'up' and 'down' aren't always what they seem sometimes."

"Was wondering if you could speak." Giles spoke normally again, he may have been caught off-guard earlier but now he was on the lookout for weird bullshit. Adaptation was important, and he was good at it. The guy, he recognized, was the one the orphan girl wanted dead last night. An alchemist or some such shit, wordy fucker. Not quite sure how he felt that he was still alive. On the plus side, poisons and other stuff. Downside, threatening to kill him was going to spark something later, probably. Threats like that aren't easily forgotten. Her giggling made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"Come on with, I'm sure it beats the shit outta wandering about a maze."

 

[Daystar Clarion]

"You have your answer..."

Sparrow smiled, nodding her head slightly. There was a sadness in her eyes, despite her excitement. Holding out her hand to the man, the girl took a step towards Darius.

"Take me away from this place."

 

[Dogmatic99]

Maggy's breath caught in her throat and she had a reaction pretty similar to the cat, maybe she should have hissed too. She couldn't quite summon the power within herself though and just backed away slowly while the smoke took vague form and advanced on her. Until colour and detail faded into existence and everything became instantly clear.

For a second she remembered expecting this to be the Shroud folks. Though if anything she expected the cat itself to turn into the person standing in front of her. Could they do that as well?

"This is the moment then?" she asked her silent guide, doing her best to sound brave. "Alright then, let's go."

Maggy noticeably swallowed her current fears and squared her shoulders. She took the first step towards whatever future this choice would lead her to and took the slender hand that had slinked out from the violet folds. Only one way she could find out.