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 Welcome to year five of the Dresden Files: New Orleans thread! Much like our beloved city, our previous thread suffered a terrible disaster, but we shall rebuild! -Links- The Google Docs Transcript Index is HERE. (recommended for anyone reading, no paywall!) We have a friendly Obsidian Portal Page HERE. (Game of the Month May 2017!) You can still read the original archived thread HERE. (just be aware pg 71 is non-canon due to retconning.) -Campaign Guides- Book 1: Hurricane Touchdown - When the Warden comes to town, the first thing this misfit group of Lawbreakers does is... adopt him?! (He's just so cute. Oh, and demons.) Book 2: Missing Persons - The heart-breaking tales of a father's love, and a woman scorned. (It's all Mitsuo's fault.) Book 3: Both Ends -An innocent bit of time travel accidentally leads to the Worst Timeline. (Surpringly not set in 2017.) Book 4: Power Plays -Making New Orleans Safe Again [Ra Ra fight the power!) Washington DC, Volume 1: How the Red Court Stole Christmas - Self-contained story set in DC in 2009, as part of the beta test for Dresden Accelerated. (A Beloved Holiday Special!)  -House Rules- We are currently running standard Atomic Robo with the spellcasting system lifted from Dresden Accelerated. There are two additional house rules in play. 1: Compel Refusals: Refusing a natural compel (aka “Buying Out”) costs a FP. It grants a free invoke on a relevant aspect, OR creates a situational aspect with a free invoke related to the refusal. 2: Lawbreaker Aspects: All characters have an extra aspect which can be compelled to push them to further lawbreaking. (Or to be a pawn of fate for Cole.) mistaya fucked around with this message at 07:52 on Nov 24, 2018 |
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Oct 12, 2017 10:40
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-Characters- Character Sheet Index  Ada duSang: "On top of the world or buried." Passionate and driven, Ada is the conscience of the party. Like a fire, her endless passion and enthusiasm warms the hearts of those who meet her, and lights up a path to a better future. She's not all smiles and sunshine, however - there's a darker side to her, who knows what it wants and how to get it. Currently stripped of her magic, the former blood mage hasn't let this slow her down one bit. She still plays games with high stakes...and somehow, still wins, no matter how stacked the deck might be against her.  Richter Cole: “So now I’m here, facing death. Don’t think dignity’s ever been in my cards though.” Responsible and loyal to a fault, Rick is the one who holds the team together through thick and thin. Some people have described him as a fussy old man, but that's just because he's been through enough that when he gets a quiet moment he wants to enjoy it. He came to New Orleans on assignment as the city's first Warden in decades, and has slowly but surely started to build the locals' trust. As the party's de facto leader he's the one who gets the lion's share of the blame for all the  Rupert Singh: “But this… all of this. It’s a second chance for me. I already screwed up being a father once. I’m trying to do it better this time.” A battered old former Wizard of the White Council, Rupert Singh drifted into New Orleans without purpose or plan, deep within a pit of his own making, forged from fear and hatred. In less than a year, he has found himself a new family, new reasons to keep going… and a newly shattered arm.  Elbridge Hardley: "Congratulations. You're being taken seriously." Elbridge has seen it all, done it all, and come back for more. Very nearly as old as everyone else put together, he's still scraping by, too stubborn to quit and too busy to die. Elbridge sometimes comes across as cold-blooded in his pragmatism, but he knows the stakes, and his advice is solid. One might think that gambling against a man who can see the future is an unwise proposition...but that hasn't stopped vampires, demons, and far worse from trying.  Marcine Sterling: “Nobody ever saved a life by deciding it was too hard to try.” A talented violinist and empath, Marcine stands at the center of many crossroads. She's kind and determined, an understanding shoulder to lean on and an unwavering shot with her handguns. She understands people well, knows how to smooth things over and keep the group on track. She acts fast and thinks faster: Trouble won't wait. -Retired Characters- Hugues Turner JR Lytle Jenny Hirsch Mitsuo Tsukada -Additional Art- (A lot gets commissioned in 5 years.)   
mistaya fucked around with this message at 11:27 on Nov 19, 2018 |
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Oct 12, 2017 10:47
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We are reposting a few of the final posts in order to keep the chapter together. If you've reached THIS post in the old thread, continue reading from here. Ordinary Scene: Back In New Orleans “Do we want to know?” Jenny asked, when Elbridge sat down in the passenger seat. “We’re protected,” he said without further comment. “At what price?” Nicky asked worriedly. “...Charles Langford has to write another book.” Taapya walked past both vehicles without looking at any of them, in accordance with the deal. Straight along the road he went, one foot in front of the other, and the Outsiders gave way before him. They screeched and howled and buzzed in Marcine’s head like a wasp’s nest, but they did give way. A bubble, or maybe a cocoon, of activity circled around him as he advanced. The road behind him stayed clear. Jenny nosed the van into the gap. “What do you think would happen if I ran him over?” she asked, only half-joking. The dome was only a few yards away now. “Let’s not,” Nicky pleaded. “We’re so close.” “Yes, but to what?” Angelique asked. “Our best shot at fixing this.” Elbridge reached under his seat and pulled out the cloth parcel from Aurora containing the heavy seedpod. “Without sacrificing anyone else.” At the very edge of the dome, Taapya stopped. He reached out and touched it, and his hand sank into the odd glowing light. But something in it resisted, and pushed him away, like a rubber band snapping back. He turned and watched the vehicles make their final approach. “One year,” he called to Elbridge. “Don’t forget!” Elbridge made a hand gesture that nicely-encapsulated his feelings on the matter. Jenny drove into the light. The van pressed up against the barrier, and she felt the resistance, but when she gave it a little gas it slipped all the way through. On the other side… Was a street. A perfectly ordinary street, on a perfectly ordinary evening, with perfectly ordinary homes, and streetlights, and businesses. The lines on the road were only paint. There were lights on in the houses. Up ahead, a car drove by. “Holy poo poo,” said Jenny. She rolled the window down. Sprinklers were watering lawns. Cicadas and crickets were chirping. “We made it…” Nicky whispered, then, louder, “We made it! We’re inside!” “How enticingly-normal,” Elbridge said. “Stay on guard. We’re still far from safe here.” “There’s no stars,” Angie said, looking up. “And behind us… nothing. Look.” The road they’d come in on simply ended in a fine grey mist. No sign of the thousands of Outsiders crawling all over the dome like ants. No sign that anything odd was happening at all. It could have been a fog bank. Marcine had been expecting some kind of apocalyptic hellscape, judging from what they’d seen of the other Elbridge, and especially after what they’d just gone through. “Not what I thought we’d come in on,” she said. Rupert stared out the window in amazement, muttering under his breath, “How did all of this survive?” “Well, we should keep moving,” Hugues said, slowly glancing around. “Mortals may be blind, but I’d doubt the Fae in here are as ignorant.” “Should I look for them?” Topaz asked Marcine. “Maybe they’ll know something more about Narcissus than the mortals would.” He was still wrapped around her neck loosely. The shaking had calmed down but the way his claws were digging into her shirt clearly said he didn’t want to go anywhere. He would though, if she asked him to. “Maybe after we’ve gotten our bearings,” she answered, and frowned. “We already know he’s dead here.” “What does dead even mean here?” Seth asked. “If time’s as unstable as we’ve heard… Don’t take anything for granted.” “Yeah,” Jenny agreed, warily driving forwards again. “Remember, this isn’t home.”
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Oct 12, 2017 11:09
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Welcome Party Scene: El’s Gato Negro Angie was sitting on the bench outside the bar, watching two women getting out of a small green car. The willowy blonde girl carried a stack of pizzas and a cake. The severe looking brunette had her hands full of balloons and streamers. “Oh drat, they’re already here,” said Minsk. “Hello!” Lucy said. “Um, who are you?” “Angelique,” said Angie. “I’m one of Richter’s friends.” “Ah, that would be why you’re outside,” said Minsk. She looked at the bottle next to the door. An eyeball inside the purple goo stared back at her. “Is that bottle er… occupied?” “Demon,” Angie said, then quickly clarified: “Not mine.” “I can bring you out some cake,” Lucy offered. “We don’t have much time,” Angie said. “What kind of cake?” “There’s always time for cake,” Lucy frowned. “Chocolate.” Angie felt guilty, thinking of Zophiel guarding the entrance while she rested, but if she didn’t rest and eat something she’d collapse before they completed the mission. And it was chocolate. “Maybe there’s a little time,” she mumbled. Lucy brightened immediately. “Wonderful, I’ll be right back.” Minsk just sighed as she pushed the door open. “Oh, to be young again.” ---- “So let me get this straight,” Ed said. “We’re trapped in the great black void because some other Narcissus in a completely different timeline nuked his own New Orleans so the Summer Queen could make a false timeline to bring her murdered daughter back to life. The vampires have almost wiped out the White Council, the government’s declared the whole place a radiation zone, and our whole world shouldn’t even exist?” “drat,” Drou said. “It’s hosed everywhere,” Marcine confirmed, staring into the last fifth of her drink and wondering if she was good for a second. Or third. If the other El could explain things better, she wished he would get down here and do it before she decided sobriety was a waste of time. “How have you been managing things in here?” Hugues said, taking a sip from his juice box. “All the foodstuff should have expired by now.” He was aware the box he was sipping from was already several years out of date but it looked, smelled, and tasted fine. “Snapbacks, resets, respawns, whatever you want to call it,” Ed said. “Food does expire if it’s out long enough but most places with reliable stashes are owned by someone who comes to pick it up when it comes back. There’s some trading but not much. It’s the only reason we haven’t all starved to death in here.” “Reliable, right,” Mrs. Bellafonte shook her head. “Not since last year when we lost the ‘burbs.” Marcine looked up from her drink. “How does the encroachment happen, anyway? Slow creep in or something else?” “Like watching the ice-caps melt.” The florist leaned on the bar. “Most of the time it’s death by inches, real slow. But once in awhile there’s a big collapse on the edges. We’ve lost whole neighborhoods like that.” “My house was out past the line,” Drou said nervously. “Luckily I was working late that night, so my reset is at the station.” (Empathy check for Marcine: -+/++5 = 6) The rest of the bar went quiet. Marcine focused in on reflex. Drou’s sense of loss was confused, like he knew he should be feeling that but didn’t have a connection for why--that he couldn’t remember something important. Behind the bar, Maria responded with sharp concern, both inwardly and by watching him more closely. Worried about something. Memory problems from the resets? Marcine would ask later. It didn’t seem like a good idea to bring it up in front of Drou. Better for now to act like she hadn’t noticed. “Respawn locations and save points,” she muttered. “Guess Outsiders are the gamer type.” “Probably why wizards aren’t equipped to handle this,” Hugues chuckled. “Good thing I'm not one.” She finished her drink, set her glass out for a refill, and glared at the staircase. “He better not be hiding more bullshit.”
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Oct 12, 2017 21:24
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A Walk In The Park Scene: El's Gato Negro “Put word out,” El-two said, ducking under the bar. He rummaged through an assortment of luggage, searching for the bag with a green tag on the handle. When he found it, he stood up again. “Operation Bellend is go. This is not a drill.” “El, hon,” Laverne said, “you don’t think maybe you shoulda chosen a different name?” “Why?” El-two asked. “Does the profanity bother you?” “No.” She shook her head and gulped down the last of her gin. “I just don’t think you coulda come up with something more obvious for ‘Elbridge Hardley’s gonna go lock down the park and get Narci’s body’.” “Just tell me you have the gris-gris ready,” he grumbled. “I’ve had them ready for days, El,” she said. “Y’all just gotta chew some chicory while they’re around your neck. Won’t smell good at all, but you won’t smell like food to them vamps, neither.” “Good,” El-two said. “Drou, weapons check?” “We got enough for this,” Drou said, nodding along. He looked somewhat distant, not entirely engaged with the discussion. “Shotguns only, though - can’t hand-load iron in bullets with the tools we got, and it’s gonna be hell on the barrels.” “At least we’ll have your pipe-bombs if it comes to that,” El-two sighed. “Talia, Edward, and Lucy - ready for your parts?” “Born ready,” Ed said, kicking his feet up on the table. Lucy rolled her eyes at her brother. “Give me five minutes to get my bag.” “I’d like to discuss a few things with Stripe but that can be done in transit,” Minsk said. “But yes, Hardley, we’ve had nothing better to do than get ready ever since the book trick worked. If there’s anything we’ve forgotten it’ll have to be dealt with when it comes up.” She walked behind the bar and picked up the lime-knife. “There is only one thing we all need before we go.” And with that she started cutting the cake. mistaya fucked around with this message at 23:33 on Oct 13, 2017 |
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Oct 13, 2017 23:31
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What If? Scene: City Park El-two and his team moved rapidly, as if they’d practiced this all before. Which, to be frank, they had. Free time was the one thing they had in abundance. Edward and Lucy took off on the motorbike after loading up with more charms and vanished under a veil that hid them from both sight and sound. Drou, along with Laverne and Talia, piled into a jeep and headed the other direction. Nicky went with them, unwilling to leave his mentor now that he’d found her. Maria stayed put, holding the fort for their return. Angie sat in the back seat of the dragon van and ate her cake thoughtfully. Rico, HER Rico, was out there somewhere, suffering and alone. It wasn’t something she could ignore, but neither was the problem at hand. And she hadn’t forgotten Zophiel, standing watch for them at the entrance. There simply wasn’t enough time to save everyone. She glanced over at Seth, who was looking anxiously out the window. “Are you alright?” she asked. “No,” he said. His shoulders slumped. “Your friend… my daughter… What if we can’t save them? What if this place was just...” Angie put her hand over his. “I’ve lived my whole life on the edge of can’t be saved, Seth. Don’t give up yet.” “We’re the only ones who have to live with this,” he said, very quietly. “The others can all go home, where everyone they know is just fine.” “I’m already dead on their side,” she said with a sad smile. Seth winced. “...oh. Sorry.” “Don’t be. For anything.” She paused and her fingers went to the cross pendant on her neck. “We can get them back, Seth. Even if they’re lost, we can find them. I believe that.” “Together,” Seth said, nodding. “We’re safer together.” Angie frowned, but before she could ask what he meant the others started piling into the van. Jenny and Elbridge up front, Hugues and Rupert in the center seats, and Marcine climbed in back to sit between them.
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Oct 13, 2017 23:36
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Operation Bellend, cont Scene: New Orleans City Park Three layers of nested illusions later… “I think this is it,” Angie said, sniffing the air. The faerie’s forest had become a park again, though a very dark one. No moon or starlight shone down and there were no man-made lights either. There were still trees, but they were no taller than they should be, and no more than had been there when the park was only a park. One stood out in particular. A single branch jutted from the trunk. A rope hung from the branch. A body swayed gently on the rope. “It’s a better look for him,” Hugues said dryly, “but we need him to talk. Are the faeries gonna bother us if we take him down?” “Who knows, who cares,” Marcine said, drawing a gun cautiously as she stepped up beside him. “Gotta do it anyway.” “Do it before they get back and then we don’t need to find out,” said Rupert, glancing about warily. “Turner,” Elbridge said. “Make him talk.” “Right,” Hugues mumbled. “Gonna need a bit help from everyone though. Rupert, I need you to do the chest compression part of CPR. Elbridge, know any good interrogation spells? Marcine, that noose destroyed his neck and I we’re gonna barely get anything out of him. Can you play the role of Echo?” Marcine blinked. “Uh, relay what he wants to say like with Bellworth, you mean?” “Yup, you’re best equipped for that.” Hugues nodded, then looked up at the tree. “Now uh...how do we get him down?” “You don’t,” said a grizzled, old voice, as a tall man with skin as dark as loam stepped out from behind the tree. He wasn’t alone. Wyld-things of every kind peered out at them from the earth, the trees, several sat on the branch that the rope dangled from. Old Man Pontchartrain stood at his full height and loomed over them. “How many times do I have to kill you fools before you stop comin’ back?” “Give us ten minutes with this corpse, and you’ll never hear from us again,” Elbridge said smoothly. Pontchartrain laughed. “Oh, aye, and have you bring the rest of this place down around our ears. You must truly think us fools, not to know who you are and what you’ve done, wizard!” “Fire and iron,” a wretched looking hairy creature said from his side. Bohpoli, without a tree to hide in. “They wield the bane against us, they seek to take the prisoner!” “I’d rather talk this out,” Elbridge said, “but if you won’t listen to reason then - the rest of this place?” he finished disjointedly. “...just what have I done?” The faerie lord’s expression hardened. “Don’t claim ignorance now. This barge didn’t start sinking until you started putting holes in it. A prison our city might be, but it was secure until you let the things we don’t name in, all so you could get word out.” “He took a gamble and it paid off,” Marcine said, “because it’s why we’re here to fix this mess. We’re not the versions of us that you’d know. You should be able to tell.” She holstered her gun and spread her hands, showing her armor: Nobody from here would suddenly have a coat from Winter. “Very long story short, we’re from the timeline this world split off of because of whatever our version of Narcissus did. Queen Mab and Lady Aurora both tasked us to save the World Tree, and gave us the tools to do so. First, we need answers.” She pointed at Narcissus. “We figured he’d be the best source, but if either of you have them, that’s fine by me. I expect we’ll have some for you in turn.” (Rapport vs diff 6 to be believed: (++++)+5 = 9!  Naming SWS boost “To the Point.”)“Have you any proof of this?” Pontchartrain asked, raising one heavy eyebrow. His folk were silent, waiting. Marcine took her Winter shard from her pocket. It seemed slightly melted from using it as a focus earlier--or maybe just from all the magical strain during their crossing. “El?” He pulled out the cloth bundle holding the seed and opened it to show the faeries. “A seed from the tree itself, to grow a new branch to support this splintered timeline.” Elbridge removed the scroll that had been delivered with it and tossed to Pontchartrain to read. “Narcissus wasn’t smart enough to do all this damage on his own. When the Summer Lady found out, she had rather a difference of opinion with her mother.” The old man caught the scroll and unfurled it, reading quickly. “This is Aurora’s hand,” he muttered. “And I’d recognize the Winter Queen’s stench anywhere. It may be a strange tale, but I cannot ignore these tokens…” He looked up at Marcine. “I know your mother, girl.” She nodded and smiled faintly. Her mother had been the one to tell her how to show proper respect for elder fae, after all. “If you are strangers from another time, what can this fool tell you?” Bohpoli asked, pointed a clawed finger towards the corpse. “We need to know the finer details of how he did this,” Elbridge explained, “so that we can undo it. We only have the one seed, and if it’s not planted exactly when and where he split the timeline, then all of this will have been for nothing.” “This sad creature is not from your world,” Pontchartrain said. “If he knows anything about such a ritual he never performed it.” “Then we’ll just have to compare notes,” Elbridge said, “and discover what it was that he sought to change. We’ve some clues as to the general nature of the event, but without knowing the particulars…” Pontchartrain bowed his head and turned to address his people. “Truth, at last, my friends,” he said. His gruff voice was full of sorrow. “Patience, I urged, for surely the Queens of Faerie hadn’t forgotten us. Surely they would find a way to reach us in time. The lights on the wall still gleam, and they must know we are here.” He raised his eyes to meet theirs. “But I was wrong. There is no rescue coming. We are betrayed by a usurper. Our true queen may even now be imprisoned, in dire need of aid.” Cries of shock and anger answered him, some almost human but many the hisses and growls and stomps of the elderkin. Pontchartrain looked to his second. His voice ground like stones rubbing together. “Send word that I personally call for a ceasefire. I want to speak to the wizard.” “At once, my Lord,” Bohpoli bowed sharply and he and several others bounded off into the night. “As for you,” the Old Man turned back to the humans. “Take him, and may he do you more good than he ever did us.” Marcine inclined her head respectfully. “Thank you, Elder.” Elbridge cracked his knuckles and looked the hanging carcass in its clouded eyes. “Hello, you miserable bellend,” he said. “It’s about time we talked.”
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Oct 13, 2017 23:45
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Wide Awake Scene: Delta Queen “Old Man’s back! Old man’s back!” The cry went up again from the deck as Pontchartrain poled up alongside the Delta Queen and the ropes were thrown down to him, just like the last time. He climbed up himself first and silenced the cat-calls before they started with a harsh glare and a gnarled finger to his lips. “Courtesy, my friends, courtesy,” he said. That word seemed to carry more meaning than Ada knew, because when he pulled her up onto the ship, not a single faerie met her eyes. They slinked away from her as if she were off-limits. “Go to the top deck,” Pontchartrain told Ada. “And wait.” She nodded and began making her way through the ship, all alone. The crowds parted before her, and it didn’t take long for her to reach the top. She’d been a part of the revelry last time, but not today. The knife was still in her hand, held with an iron grip. For a moment, Ada thought about putting it away as she climbed past the dance deck, but decided against it. It made her feel safer, and reminded her of all that reaching this point had cost. It deserved to stay close to her for that, if nothing else. The top deck was much more quiet than the others. The Old Man’s stump-throne was still there, as was the steering wheel, but there was no sign of the Rubeansidhe, yet. Sighing, she leaned over the railing and stared into the water, counting the minutes as they went by. Something she was starting to learn well was that fairies always moved at their own pace. The moon was high and full, and it revealed something approaching over the water. At first, Ada couldn’t tell what it was, but as it grew closer she saw it was a winged figure, much larger than a pixie. Human sized, or nearly so. It bobbed and fluttered like an insect, following the lights of the ship. Her eyes narrowed. What kind of creature was this? Fairies took almost any form imaginable, but she hadn’t encountered very many of them who were big and had wings. Leaning a little further forward, she peered at it, trying to make out its features in the moonlight. It was too fast and too low to the water to see properly, but when it approached the paddlewheel on the back of the ship, it banked up, and Ada caught a glimpse of blonde curls before it vanished under the railing of the third deck. Within her chest, her heartbeats began to quicken. She’s here. She’s finally here. It was only now that Ada realized she’d never hashed out what she wanted to tell her. She’d always felt sure her heart would do the talking when they met, but if so, why was she so anxious? Why was it thumping against her chest like it was about to burst? Her knuckles went bone white as they tightened around the knife. She was here. No more time. No going back to the roadside now, unless it was with the Rubeansidhe in tow. Light steps echoed on the stairs. Ada’s eyes, glued to the floor moments ago, rose to meet her. Ruby stood at the top of the stairs, a look of utter shock painted on her cherub face. “...Ada?” Ada didn’t answer. She just swallowed, hard, and stared at her. She looked just the same...the same white tanktop and black capris she had on the night this all started. The same windblown, messy hair. But she had no wings. Had Pontchartrain told her anything? No, he couldn’t have, now that she thought about it. Ruby would’ve refused to see her, flat out. “Hey, Ruby.” At least her voice didn’t crack. It was hesitant, but no more than that. “Long time no see.” “How long?” Ruby asked, her eyes flicking over Ada as if she expected to see years added to her face. “Couple days. The friday night show was about to get started when I came in.” Had it really been just a couple days? Felt like it was an entirely different person who’d fallen out of that timewarp. Ruby breathed a ragged sigh. “I had no idea where you’d gone. When you’d gone. I’m… I… You’re here now. We need to find a way to send you home.” Shaking her head, Ada raised the knife up to her lips and held it in both hands, as if to kiss the handle. She’d been hoping for something so very different. Hearing those words stung. “Ruby…” Ada’s voice was very soft as she looked back at her, with hurting eyes. “...I saw you watching me during the saturday show. Why are you lying to me?” The faerie’s eyes fell, her shock twisting into a tense frown. “Why are you here?” “Because I found out you wanted to kill yourself. And I don’t want to let you go like this.” ((For the first time in...maybe ever, we begin a social Conflict, as Ada tries to talk Ruby out of jumping off the edge. Ada goes first, and she rolls Rapport to try and Create Advantage. ++-- +5 = 5 vs -//- +5 = 3. Succeeds...or it would’ve, if this had been a stuntless roll. The first stunt at Ruby’s disposal is revealed. Instead of a successful Aspect, Ada takes a boost, “Girl On A Mission”.)) Stubborn As Her Grandfather: The Rubeansidhe gains +2 to Will when resisting CA's that would make her doubt herself. For a fleeting instant, Ada was afraid she would run, but then her face came up, and there was a fire behind her eyes. She stepped onto the deck swiftly, squaring off against Ada as she made her case. “This life is a prison. I would unmake it, and find freedom. Would you keep me behind these bars, like a caged songbird, because you cannot let me go?” “No.” Ada stared back and did not flinch. “But when she needs me, I won’t let my best friend keep me in the dark.” ((Ruby CA’s with Empathy, trying to feel out why Ada’s really here. +/// +5 = 6. Ada defends with Rapport /-+- +5 = 4. Tags “Girl on a Mission” to bring it to a tie. Ruby gets a boost, “Prison of the Past”)) “You can’t keep lying to me and pushing me away, Ruby.” Reaching forward with her right hand, Ada grasped her wrist. Just talking wouldn’t get her anywhere. The contact had just as much power as words. “I can’t force you to do what I want you to, but if this is how we say goodbye…” For a moment, words failed her. “...Tell me why it has to be this way.” ((It’s Ada’s turn, but no rolls yet. She spends an FP to compel Ruby’s Concept, “Youngest Jewel of Summer”. Once upon a time, Ruby promised to tell her the truth when next they met. The time is now. Ada’s FP: 4>3. Ruby’s FP: 2->3.)) For a few tense seconds, Ruby held her tongue. But the promise of a Sidhe lady could not be broken. As the pain of resisting Summer law forced tears from her eyes, the words began to tumble unwillingly from her lips. “I can no longer stand the things I’ve seen... done… become. My future was stolen from me. My Choice was no choice.” She yanked her wrist back, breaking contact. “What would you have me do, tell you of each insult, each abuse, each hurt I have suffered over a century? Is it not enough to say that I have borne them all only in the hope that one day I might take back what I lost?” No. It wasn’t. Ada knew a lot about pain, but her losses had always been sudden, like a bomb exploding or a letter being torn in a fit of rage. All she had to go off of was her own speculation, and it wasn’t enough to understand how Ruby could ever have chosen this path. But saying that would get her nowhere. What she needed was a softer touch. “Every time I started to feel like I’d hit rock bottom, someone was there for me, to listen to what I had to say, to understand how I felt. Pain doesn’t just keep growing, Ruby. When we share it, it lessens.” For a moment, Ada glanced to Alisa for reassurance, looking on from the sidelines with a thoughtful expression on her face. Then her focus shifted back to Ruby and her tear-stained eyes, still reeling from the pain of trying to withhold things from her, and her decision was made. “Tell me about them, Ruby. I promise you it’ll help.” ((Ada rolls Empathy to Create Advantage and reveal one of Ruby’s Aspects by convincing her to share the details of the pains that led her to this decision. -+/- +5 = 4, yuck. Ruby defends with /-// +5 = 4. Tie. She spends Prison of the Past for a +2 bonus, and Ada counters with her “Catching Up To The Past” Experience. Then she raises by another 2 with “I Won’t Look Away”. She reveals the Aspect “Regret Lasts A Lifetime”, and gains one invoke of it. Ada FP: 3>2.)) “I don’t want to lessen it! I want it to be sharp, to drive me forwards so I don’t collapse under the weight of it!” There was real fear in Ruby’s voice, as if sharing might cause her to lose something precious. “Let me keep it, all of it, and give her a life without any of it.” She clasped her hands together in a plea for understanding. “I don’t want to die, Ada, I just want her to live.” She’s so desperate. This isn’t just some kind of escape for her. It really is all you want, isn’t it Ruby? To make everything right? Ada knew that feeling - that unmistakable note of resolve in her voice, the resolution to make sure the young Ruby she’d spent the last few days with got a fair shake. It was so compelling, but... But she wants to ruin herself for it. Just like I almost did once upon a time. It was one thing to see her best friend lie to her, even to her face, but she couldn’t allow her to cross this line. Once upon a time, a little girl had tried to run away from everything, to bury the past because she couldn’t face it and keep going. Ada remembered Rose Red’s mistakes. She was the one who gave her the strength to ignore Ruby’s pleas. ((Ruby tries to persuade Ada, rolling Rapport CA to hit her soft side. ///+ + 5 = 6. Ada defends with +/-+ +5 = 6. Tie! Ada raises with “Anger Makes Me Stronger” to harden her heart. You can’t allow someone to ruin themselves, no matter how noble their motives might be!)) “What you’re going to do won’t give her a chance to live. It’ll just take away the choice she’ll make,” Ada’s eyes shone brightly now as her knife hand rose to seize Ruby’s shoulder, burning like green flames. “You’re telling me you became a monster and it wasn’t of your own making. What happened, Ruby? I’ve shared a lot with the girl you used to be in the last few days. She’s got hopes, she’s got dreams. Why is she gonna make the choice to throw them all away?” There was an accusatory edge to her words that she couldn’t hold back anymore. She’d been lied to and deceived, over and over again. Even now, when everything was on the line, Ruby still hadn’t spoken to her openly, like a friend to a friend. Ada was tired of it. It was time for answers. “You aren’t listening to me!” Ruby tore herself free from Ada again, denying every offer of comfort and support. “I didn’t say she made a bad choice, I said it was no choice. Human or faerie, she will be Narcissus’ slave. Human or faerie, she will lose her family. I won’t let him ruin her life this time, even if it costs me mine.” ((Ada rolls Provoke as an attack, to try and get Ruby to start opening up. -//- +4 = 2. Terrible! Ruby’s defense of +/-+ +5 = 6 smashes Ada’s attack roll and grants her a SwS, “Iron Resolve.”)) She turned her back on Ada and rested her hands on the railing. “Why are you trying to stop me? I’ve been working towards this moment since before you were even born. This is what I want, more than anything.” Confusion and hurt caused her voice to crack as she glanced back over her shoulder. “If you truly call me your friend, if you love me, then forget about me. Forget, and go home, and… and be happier without me.” It was such a selfless desire on the surface, but Ada knew it was anything but. Once upon a time, she too had thought like a martyr. It wasn’t about saving other people’s lives, ever. It was about performing a grand sacrifice that would allow you to escape yours. “This is home,” she answered. “And you shouldn’t even have to ask me why I’m here.” Last time, at the gala, it’d been Ruby who’d talked Ada off the edge. This time, it was Ada’s turn to pay her back. Slowly, she approached the railings and leaned on them. “This is your choice, Ruby,” she said quietly, turning her head to look at her. “But you shouldn’t make it in haste, or alone.” ((This one’s a whopper. Ruby counter-rolls Provoke to attack, -++- +6 = 6. Ada defends with Will and… <Krysmbot> TransientPeople, +/+++5 = 8 <TransientPeople> BOOM ...Succeeds. And she goes ahead and pushes forward with Rapport, trying to create the mood via CA: “I’m Always With You”. /-/+ +5 = 5 vs -//- +5 = 3. Succeeds, and uses “Santa Claus Is Real?!”, reinforcing her belief in Ruby, to make that a Success With Style. But not so fast! Ruby tags Iron Resolve to raise, which forces Ada to counter-raise with On Top Of The World Or Buried’s free invoke. Ruby then raises one more time with a new Aspect, “Come Closer And I’ll Scream”. Ada raises one final time with “I Won’t Look Away” to keep the SwS. Ada FP: 2>1. Ruby FP: 3->2.))
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Oct 14, 2017 04:11
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Tin Box Scene: Delta Queen The party was still going on in the lower decks when Ada and Ruby came down. There was no sleep aboard the Delta Queen. The crowds didn’t part for them this time, as they had before, but nobody paid them any mind either. With their business concluded, they were just another pair of revelers in the eyes of the Old Man’s court, a banshee making no attempts to hide her true nature and the human accompanying her. Pontchartrain was nowhere to be found, however. Not on the dance floor, leading his guests, nor on the main deck, overseeing their conversations with each other. And until they paid his respects to their host, leaving the boat was out of the question. There was only one place they hadn’t checked out yet: belowdecks, where the passenger’s cabins were. The party didn’t go that far, either. There wasn’t a soul in sight when they descended the stairs. Just the sounds of a music box, playing in the distance. Above board, the Delta Queen mostly resembled a ship of human make, but the similarities ended here. The roots sprouting from the Old Man’s throne in the topmost deck came to an end here, drinking deeply enough from the lake to leave eight inches of water to trudge through. If there were wooden walls underneath them, they’d been hidden well. “Think it’s him?” Ada whispered. Something about the music demanded silence and respect. “It must be,” Ruby said, touching the roots gently. Nodding, Ada stepped into the water, and beckoned Ruby to follow. The music gradually got stronger as they passed by each cabin door, heading towards the end of the hallway, and a voice crooned a song to match, deep and smooth as the river mud. It was melancholic and slow, the kind of song that made the mind think instead of giving the heart wings. “Tore my heart, left out to bleed Got no future, got no creed She won't tell me what she did Threw those words out to the wind "Next time we meet, next time we meet…” They opened the door together, struggling against the water. The Old Man of the Lake was inside, listening to a music box on a nearby shelf, where the lake’s grasp couldn’t reach. He sat with his back to the door on a mossy root that bent out from the wall to form a wide bench. “Ah, have my pretty guests have come to say farewell?” he asked without facing them. Ruby tilted her head, listening to the song as her antennae twitched. Ada’s fingers slipped between Ruby’s, grasping her insectile hand tightly. “You’ve been a very gracious host, Monsieur Pontchartrain,” she said, bowing in respect. “And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for helping me reunite with my dearest friend. If we could stay here and enjoy your party, we wouldn’t leave until dawn, but our duty calls us now.” “Duty, eh?” His long fingers drummed on the shelf, matching the tinny notes of the music box. “And what duty would that be?” “We have a duty to our families, both of us. We’ve been on the run for far too long.” A small smile flashed across Ada’s face. “Compared to you, Monsieur Pontchartrain, we’re just children. It’s time for us to go home.” “Wait...” Ruby said. “What song is that?” “It’s got no name.” Ada said quietly, shaking her head. “I think it has,” Pontchartrain disagreed. He gave Ruby a meaningful look. “When I called it out, you came running.” “This was the price of your aid,” Ruby said, her voice trembling. It wasn’t a question. “I thought you ought to know, and it’s too pretty to be kept locked away.” Ada let out a long, deep breath. “It was cruel to tell her about it. I don’t want Ruby to feel like she owes me.” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “But I don’t mind so much. Because you still deserve to know what it cost to get here.” “Ada…” Ruby squeezed her hand back. Pontchartrain sighed as the box wound down, and finally closed the lid. He turned to face them, a melancholy look on his old, wrinkled features. “Honesty can be cruel, aye. But it cleanses too. You came to beg a boon of the River King, banshee girl.” “I did,” Ruby nodded. “Would you hear it?” “Ask.” “Fiodoirsidhe and her brood have been threatened by Narcissus. If they defected, what would the cost of your protection be?” The Old Man stroked his beard. “I can’t help you,” he said at length. The fairies always chose their words carefully. If Pontchartrain said he couldn’t fulfill Ruby’s request, then that meant it truly wasn’t something he could help with, regardless of his own feelings on the matter. “Because your hands are tied?” Ada ventured. “Narcissus is part of your own court, even if he’s not one of your people. If you shielded someone from him without justification, it’d splinter Summer into two factions, wouldn’t it?” Pontchartrain sighed. “He’s Titania’s pet, and she has little love for me. My Court is wilder, too far from the pretty things, like you, that Summer has become. The peace is tenuous enough when we keep to our own business. Stealing a beloved Sidhe lady out from under him would mean war.” “One he could win, with the Queen’s blessing,” Ruby added. The ship groaned as the roots shifted, a deep and terrible anger stirring within them. “Aye,” he said. “So if they tried to escape him, it’d have to be on their own.” Ada was thinking, trying to see what the Old Man had left unsaid. His words had closed some doors, but others were still open. “Could a different kind of boon be granted, then? One that wasn’t related to their problem with Titania’s right hand man.” “Perhaps.” His eyes were deep black pools. “What do you suggest?” Just come up with a solution on the spot, Ada, or Ruby unmakes herself. No pressure. She’d been half-expecting this kind of response, but that didn’t mean she’d had time to prepare an answer. So now, she had to improvise. Simple. It’s gotta be something simple and clean. Something that would put Isabel, Ruby and Junior out of Narcissus’ reach. Easier said than done...he had fingers in every pie, and he’d only get stronger from now to the present. There was no place where they’d be safe, so long as he was still around. Just like in the fairy tales where a princess was stalked by an evil witch or spirit... ...Of course. That was it. “The last few weeks have been trying for the Fiodoirsidhe and her family,” she began. “And it’s left them tired and weary. Could you grant them the gift of peaceful, undisturbed slumber? We’ll wake them up when their time to rest is over.” Sleeping Beauty had given Ada the idea, but she wasn’t the only one who’d done something like it. JR had escaped Merle’s assassination attempt in a similar way...by taking the slow way forward through time, without anyone else noticing. Pontchartrain laughed softly. “Not me you should be asking for that.” That wasn’t an answer that Ada was expecting. “Then who?” she asked, confused. “Sleep is within my power,” Ruby said, flushing scarlet. “But an enchanted sleep is meaningless without a place to hide them.” Her wings scattered scales that floated on the dirty water at their feet. “But we do have one,” Ada pointed out, quickly. This could work, this could definitely work. “Grave Hill, where this all started. Nobody’ll come looking for them there, and especially not Narcissus.” Turning to face Pontchartrain, Ada took another bow. “Our apologies for taking up your time, Monsieur Pontchartrain. We may not actually need a boon after all.” He took the music box off the shelf and began winding the key. “Well then, if you happen to think of something, you know how to call for me.” “Old Man,” Ruby asked timidly. “What would it take to get you to part with such a lovely tune?” The river-king raised a bushy eyebrow at her. “More than you have now, little lady. But perhaps I’ll tire of it, in time.” “Then we’ll see each other again,” she promised. “Oh, heh, I expect so.” He smiled, showing his very white teeth. “One of mine will take you back to shore, if you’re ready. He’s waiting at the raft.” “Thank you for your patience and grace, Monsieur Pontchartrain,” Ada said, a note of respect present in her voice that had never appeared in her dealings with Midas and Narcissus. “I hope your star shines brightest in the skies of New Orleans, when next we meet.” With any luck, by the time this entire incident was over Narcissus would be ousted, and a better ruler for the Summer Court would have taken his place. And the Old Man of the Lake was far better than any other options. “I told you once, an Old Man’s what I am, and the only title I’ll ever need,” said the ancient faerie, but his grumbling felt more like a point of pride than anything else. “You girls take care of each other. Now get on outta here.” He opened the now-wound box, and the music began to play, haunting and sad. Ada waited until they were halfway up the stairs to give Ruby an inquisitive look. “Why so much interest in that song, Ruby?” “First editions are hard to find,” she said with a small smile. Ada grinned. “Always so mysterious...you’re just doing it to tease me at this point, aren’t you?” Ruby’s smile widened. “If anyone’s going to hold onto a piece of your soul, Ada… It’s going to be me.” Ada couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I can live with that,” she said, as they climbed the stairs back to the main deck, leaving the passengers’ cabins behind, her eyes shining with excitement. We found it. Ruby doesn’t have to sacrifice herself to save her family now. Glancing over her shoulder at her fairy companion, she couldn’t help but beam at her as they approached the edge of the Delta Queen, where the boat (and a familiar boatman) was waiting.
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Oct 14, 2017 04:20
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No Expectations Scene: Lake shore Ada had left the Lytles at a crossroads where the lake, the city and the wilderness met, a dirt road surrounded by bushes that in years to come would be covered in asphalt and encircled by pavement. Reaching into her pocket, she drew a lighter that Junior had handed her, and lit its flame. In the night, it shone like a torch, casting shadows that made the lake water look black as pitch. It was the signal they were waiting for. Junior stepped out of the city side brush alone, and made his way to the center of the crossroads. “Good to see you in one piece,” he said quietly. “We were starting to get worried. Did she come?” Ada nodded. “She’s scared. Not of you, or Isabel, but of herself. But she’s willing to try. Want me to call her now?” “Now wait just a minute. How is she? How’d you convince her to come out here? Did you make any promises we need to be aware of?” Ada shook her head. “Nothing like that. The only promise I made is that I’d be here for her, standing by her side. She wanted to...” she stopped, wondering if she should be the one to tell Ruby’s parents about what she was planning on doing. “...Tell Isabel to come in. She should hear about it too.” Junior turned around and beckoned towards the bushes. Isabel stepped out, and Ruby, but he waved his daughter back. She gave him a frustrated look, but her father cleared his throat and she ducked back down. “What’s wrong?” Isabel asked, once the three of them were together. “Where is she?” “She’s not here yet,” Ada said, raising a hand to forestall her. “There’s something you need to know. Ruby and I talked a lot. At first she was going to hurt herself, but her mind’s changed. She’s been disgusted with herself for years and years, horrified of what she’s become. That’s changed now...but she’s scared your Ruby won’t accept her, and it’ll kill her if she rejects what she’ll become.” Pausing for a moment, Ada stared at each of Ruby’s parents in turn. “She needs you. Whatever you do, please don’t turn her away.” “Ada, dear, she is my daughter,” Isabel said. “I could never do such a thing.” Junior nodded. “If there’s a way to save her, we’ll find it. But we need to know everything. Time loops are tricky business, one wrong step...” Isabel took his hand, and they shared a worried look. “Go ahead, call her.” This was the moment. For the first time in what felt like ages, Ada parted her lips, and intoned the summons that belonged only to her. “Rubeansidhe, Rubeansidhe, Rubeansidhe...come to me.” The lighter’s flame drew the Rubeansidhe like the moth she so resembled. Her blonde hair bobbed as she approached, her fuzzy antennae tipped forwards. Her parents watched silently until she reached Ada’s side. No one spoke for a tense second. “...M-mama? Daddy?” “My baby girl, all grown up,” Isabel said, sniffling. She opened her arms. All eight of them. Junior stepped towards Ada to give them a bit of room. “Well aren’t they a pair,” he said. “Like mother, like daughter,” Ada said, watching them with a little smile on her face. “You raised her right, you know. She’s supposed to call people’s deaths, but the first time I met her, she helped me save lives.” “It’s all about balance,” Junior said seriously. “Being a witness, nudging fate one way or the other, it’s an important responsibility.” “Leave that to me, Junior,” Fiodoirsidhe scolded. “You’ve got enough to worry about with your time bending.” “Yes, love.” Rubeansidhe burst into tears. “What’s all this fussing?” Junior asked, moving to put a hand on her shoulder. “I… I haven’t heard you argue in… in… ninety years!” she said. Isabel and Junior looked to each other, sharing their distress and quickly moving past it as they stood on either side of her. “You must tell us what happens, Rubeansidhe,” her mother said gently. “If you mean to save us, or yourself, we need to know everything.” “Now who’s poking ‘round things they don’t know,” Junior grumbled, but it was mostly to cover his nervousness. “Ada, can you sit with… with young Ruby a spell? I don’t like leaving her alone for so long.” “Yeah. Count on me.” Ada found the time to spare a look at Rubeansidhe, to make sure she was OK, but then headed for the bushes without a second thought. The car was there, disguised (somewhat poorly) by tree branches and leaves. But there was no sign of Ruby. Ada didn’t worry. Not yet. Ruby couldn’t have gone very far, and she had too much sense to just wander off during such an important moment. Kneeling down besides the car, she held the lighter up and looked for her tracks. ((Surprise! It’s a Notice roll. +-/- +4 = 3. That’s not quite enough for what Ada needs here.)) There were tracks alright. Too many of them. The ground around the car was a mess, and the darkness didn’t help any. This was a no-go. Standing up, Ada looked around and called out, though not loud enough for her parents or Rubeansidhe to hear. “Ruby...Ruby, where are you? It’s me, Ada.” There was no response. Shaking her head, Ada leaned against the car, thinking. It probably wasn’t some kind of abduction - no one who knew was strongly enough opposed to Ruby to act against her like that. She must’ve moved on her own. But where had she gone? Looking up, Ada gazed at the moon hanging over Lake Pontchartrain. Wonder what you can see that I don’t. … Actually...maybe that’s it. On the way to her meeting with the Old Man, there was a place that caught her eye, a tall oak, standing by the edge of the lake. Her Ruby had been fond of trees - it’s where she’d left Grace, and where she’d sat after betraying Narcissus, waiting for her. Maybe it was something she and her younger self had in common. And besides, its branches made a perfect spot to observe the meeting from. It was worth a shot. Ada killed the lighter’s flame and headed back to the lake, keeping her eyes open, trusting the moonlight to guide them. The lakeside was dimly illuminated, the moon’s light giving everything a silver-blue tinge - everything, except the patch underneath the oak, hidden by the shadow of its foliage. But she could see a pair of shoes at the bottom, and Ruby’s feet dangling from one of the branches. “You’ve gotta stop running off like that,” Ada said as she finished climbing the tree and sat down against its trunk on the branch Ruby had chosen, letting one of her feet dangle underneath. “Got me worrying for a second.” Ruby gave her a scathing look. “Shhh, I’m trying to spy.” “Can you really hear them from here? It’s pretty far away.” Still, Ada fell silent and observed the scene with her. Only Junior’s face was visible, the other two had their backs to the tree. His face looked like a thundercloud but all three were keeping their voices low. “No,” Ruby said glumly. “I was hoping someone might shout but looks like it’s all hush-hush.” She pulled her legs up and hugged them as she watched. “...so that’s her. Me. Her. Wow.” “The future came calling, and she’s got bug eyes and wings.” Ada’s tone was humorous, but she quickly got serious after making the quip. “How do you feel about her?” She asked, shooting Ruby a curious glance. “Anxious,” Ruby said. “I don’t like being left out of whatever’s going on down there. It’s my life they’re talking about, shouldn’t I get a say?” Ada shook her head. “It’s not just yours. Did you see the way your mother embraced her? It’s her family too - and she hasn’t seen them in years. She came back to this time because she was so lonely and everything had gone so wrong that dying to give you a second chance looked like the best possible choice. She needs them like I need to make sure nothing happens to you.” Leaning forward, Ada reached for Ruby’s arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Either of you.” Ruby sighed. “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 don’t like it either,” Ada said, hitting the trunk with the heel of her dangling foot in frustration. “It’s supposed to be your choice, but now it’s anything but. Now it’s going to be everyone cajoling you to choose one way or the other, stacking the deck against the choice they like less by telling you just how awful things are gonna be if you decide to do things that way.” She heaved an angry sigh. “You should both be able to go your own way. I bet that’s what they’re talking about, why your dad’s so mad right now. He doesn’t want you to suffer like her.” She fell silent for some time, thinking, wondering if there was anything else she could, or should, say. “What would you do, if you were me?” Ruby asked quietly. “Never an easy question, is it...” Arching her leg up, Ada rested her arms and head on her knee and stared off into the distance. “...I don’t think about what someone else wants in the first place. People have wanted me to be, needed me to be someone else since I was fourteen. If I kept on trying to live my life the way someone else wanted me to live it, I would’ve lost myself a long time ago. I’d be a doll, just like Grace.” She shook her head, back and forth. “If I had to choose, I wouldn’t let fear of the consequences rule me. If something’s truly worth it, then the consequences are a price I’m willing to pay. But if I was going to make a choice like this one, the kind where there’s no going back, I’d want the truth. Full awareness of everything that’d happen if I followed the same road. And regardless of the choice I made...of whatever happened…” Her right hand ran over the scar tissue of her left arm. It made her heart skip a beat, but beyond her body’s instinctive reactions, it was a proof of what she’d done. It was her history, always carried with her wherever she went. “...I’d always keep moving forward. No looking back and wondering what might’ve been. No regrets.” “No regrets,” Ruby echoed. As soon as she said that, both banshees turned to look directly up at the tree, as if they’d heard her. Ruby froze like a deer in headlights. “Uh-oh.” “I think it’s time we went back,” Ada said, shooting Ruby a meaningful look. “It’s your time to shine, baby.” She didn’t tell her what this meant, didn’t allow herself to worry about it. Banshees could sense death, but it was never certain by the time they saw it. There was always a chance to change course. She should know - that had been the deathstone’s first and most clear lesson. “Shine, or die,” Ruby said as she grabbed a branch and lowered herself towards the ground.
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Oct 14, 2017 04:44
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The Big Sleep Scene: House Lytle “...And everyone’s connected,” Ada explain, as she struggled to close a particularly overloaded trunk. “You can write a dozen messages with instant delivery if you want to, or talk to someone who’s on the other side of the city face to face. It’s a pretty different world. Faster. Sleeker. More...indus...trial...” A moment before it beat her and spilled its contents everywhere, she jumped on it and pressed it down with her full body weight, causing it to come together with a satisfying click. “Hah! Gotcha!” she yelled, basking in her triumph for a moment as she pumped her fist. “Trunks are still a pain in the rear end to put together, though, don’t worry. Some things just never change.” “I’ll have to wear pants, I suppose,” Ruby said wistfully, as she touched her bedroom mirror. “One trunk doesn’t seem like enough but I know there’s people out there with less. We can’t clean the place out or they’ll know something’s up.” She picked Grace up off the shelf and set her nicely on the dresser. “And I guess I gotta leave you behind.” Seeing the way Ruby cared for her dolly put a smile on Ada’s face. “Not exactly. Rubeansidhe will keep her. Don’t worry, she’ll take good care of Grace.” She’d certainly been quite zealous about making sure nothing bad happened to her...maybe a little too zealous. “Good luck taking it back from her, though. She’s kind of attached to her, you know,” she whispered, just in case. There was no telling whether she could hear them from the ground floor or not. “I’m getting a little old for dolls,” Ruby said, shaking her head. “And she’s the one who has to do the hard part. It’s alright.” She grabbed one end of the trunk. “If we can get this downstairs, all that’s left is setting the stage.” “Staging the Choice and your parents’ disappearance?” Ada asked. “You got any ideas for that?” Ruby grinned. “Loads. Leo’s bringing by a bunch of stuff from backstage. We’re gonna sell this like one of those new talkies.” “I’ve got to see this with my own eyes. How can I help out?” She’d never worked in theatre before. Then again, a week ago she wouldn’t have been able to say she’d done showbiz, either. “Well… let’s see what Daddy’s got done already.” They maneuvered the trunk downstairs with only two near-death incidents, and stacked it next to the door with the others. Isabel and Rubeansidhe, both of them in human form, were in the kitchen cooking something that smelled completely awful. Junior was sawing holes in the floor. “All set?” he asked the girls. “All set,” Ruby confirmed. “Did you stuff the scarecrows yet?” “Naw, you two can do that if ya like.” “Long as we don’t have to eat whatever’s cooking over there, I’m game,” Ada said, wrinkling her nose as she turned to steal a glance at the two banshees. “Hey Rubeansidhe, what are you working on, anyway?” she asked, raising her voice enough for them to hear. “Gotta smell it to sell it!” Rubeansidhe said cheerfully, holding up a long rope of pig’s intestines for Ada to see. “Leave a pocket in the front when you stuff those bodies.” “I sewed them up already, and put them on the back porch next to the hay bale,” Isabel added, motioning for them to hurry. “We’ve only got a few more hours, quickly girls, quickly.” “Tell me you’re not squeamish,” Ada said, biting her lip as she shot Ruby a glance. “I really don’t want to be up to my ears in pig intestines all alone.” “I helped Daddy slaughter that hog,” Ruby said, laughing. “My only regret is all that wasted sausage.” Ada couldn’t keep a guilty smile off her face. “Now you’re making me feel like a pampered princess. C’mon, let’s make these scarecrows the most convincing body doubles you’ll ever see.” --- “So, are you convinced?” Junior asked Junior, a little while later. “Almost,” the real one said, tugging on his double’s shirt to get it a little looser around the middle. “There we go.” “Good,” said Isabel, tugging a few of her invisible strings as she puppeted her husband’s double to sit in his reading chair. The glamours were all in place, and if you didn’t know better you’d swear the two straw-and-sausage filled ‘parents’ were the real thing. “I need to practice my lines, and you three need to get to the hill.” Ruby hugged her mother close. “Be careful, please… I don’t know what I’d do if…” “Shhh, none of that,” Junior said, hugging both of his girls together. “We’ll all see each other soon. Alright?” He gave his wife a kiss on the lips. “Of course we will,” Isabel tsk’d. “Don’t lay on your side dear, you know it gives you a cramp.” They talked for a little longer, about small things that didn’t matter. Putting the goodbye off as long as they could. But eventually it was time. Junior drove the car in silence, Ruby beside him on the front bench. Ada and Rubeansidhe rode in back. “It’s gonna be a long time ‘til we see each other again, even if I’m gonna be sleeping through all of it,” Ada whispered so the others could not hear. “Don’t let anyone hurt you, Rubeansidhe. I don’t want to lose you so soon after having found you.” Ruby took her hands. “I’ll endure it, for the both of us. Even if things get hard, and I want to give up, I’ll know that you’re counting on me. This time, I won’t be talking to an empty grave.” Ada just smiled. The word of the fey was their bond. Ruby wouldn’t let her down, and she was confident enough of that to bet her life on it. And there’s no risk in this, no matter what anyone else thinks. “There’s just one thing that’s bugging me now,” she said, her expression becoming curious. “Where are we going to hide ourselves? Are we gonna dig some graves and travel forward through time the same way your grandfather did?” Rubeansidhe just smiled. “I’ve got something more comfortable in mind.” --- The trunk of the great cherry tree that oversaw grave hill groaned when Rubeansidhe touched it, the wood giving way and opening to reveal a hollow inside. It seemed larger than it should be, though still a snug fit. “In you go,” she said, motioning to the opening. Junior gave a heavy sigh. “Your mother’s right, I’m going to wake up with a cramp.” He gave Rubeansidhe a final hug. “We’ll leave a space for her.” “Will you really be okay?” Ruby asked her counterpart, as Junior climbed inside. “No one’s ever done anything like this before.” “I guess we’ll find out,” Rubeansidhe said. “You’ll make it, Ruby. I promise.” “It’s not me I’m worried about,” she said, looking down. “Thank you, for doing this for me. Even if I think you shouldn’t have, I… I really am glad you came.” The faerie nodded. “I know.” Ruby squared her shoulders and entered the hollow. And then there were only two. Ada looked up to the tree, amazed. “Fairy magic is really something, isn’t it?” she said, placing a hand of her own upon the tree’s bark. “I’m curious, though. Why a tree, Ruby?” “Trees are alive,” Rubeansidhe said. “They breathe, they grow, they can warn me if you’re in danger. And I have a great fondness for this one. It will be a sentinel to watch over you as long as you’re asleep.” “Yeah. Long as we sleep...” Her time in the past was growing short. Slowly, Ada took a deep breath. She wasn’t afraid of the big sleep, not exactly, but...Old New Orleans had changed her life, in more ways than one. Without visiting, she couldn’t have reached her decision, couldn’t have reforged her bond with Alisa. Leaving it all behind wasn’t death, but it was a great transformation nonetheless, and not without cost. I’m going home. I just wish I could’ve brought back more of the world I saw with me. “I hope it’s comfortable inside. It’s gonna be a long wait if I can’t find a decent spot to lean up against.” With a nod, her decision was made. Ada stepped inside and turned around to look at Rubeansidhe. “Stay safe. I’ll see you later.” “Till next we meet,” she said. Her wings fluttered as she stood at the entrance to the hollow, creating a gentle breeze. Her voice took on the lilt of a lullaby. “Sleep, my father, my friend, my other self.” Little white particles of dust fell on Ada’s eyes, like grains of sand, and a feeling of drowsiness overcame her. She slumped back against the tree and let herself go, relaxing as she closed her eyes. “Sleep and do not dream, but let the century pass as though it were a single peaceful night.” There was no more sight, only distant sensations upon her skin. She was cold. She was hot. She felt full of energy, then almost too tired to do anything. She heard Rubeansidhe’s voice, whispering at her, but only for a few moments, and then she was gone. The pattern repeated itself many times, more than she could count, and through it all, Ada felt the tree’s strength, keeping her safe in its embrace, where neither the ravages of time nor men could reach her. Coming from a distance, the voice of the Rubeansidhe presided over the changing seasons, repeating but a single word. “Sleep.”
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Oct 14, 2017 04:57
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Roll Call 1: Rupert Singh Scene: Skinner’s House From the street, the old Skinner mansion looked just like it always had. A round tower and a wide porch with a swing on it, and an empty yard alongside where the owner hadn’t let anything be built, even though the block was otherwise very dense. There was something unnerving about the place, but then there always had been. It was the former home of a world-class demon summoner, and her half-demon children. The windows were dark, and the whole area was quiet enough that it all seemed abandoned. “If we’re lucky, he’s already here,” Lucy said, but she didn’t sound very hopeful. “Danny probably knows where he went,” her brother said. Ed had never been much of a believer in luck. He stopped at the edge of the driveway and fished a folded paper object shaped like a key out of his pocket. “Just a second, need to make sure the pass-charm hasn’t changed.” “You know, I don't think I've ever been here,” Hugues said idly to Rupert. “Was it always this spooky or is it just the weirdness of this reality?” “Former. From what Daniel told me, his Grandmother was one scary lady,” explained Rupert, looking up at the house. Glancing at Ed, he asked, “Is my counterpart here often?” “When he needs patching up,” Ed said shrugging. The key went into the mail slot and the sound of wind chimes played. “Sweet, got it! We can go in, just stay on the walkway.” Lucy smiled and took a step forward, vanishing through the shield. Ed waved the other two onwards. “I gotta lock up after we’re in.” Inside the shield, the House still looked imposing, but the windows were bright and there was movement and music and the smell of food cooking. Brightly colored tents were set up all over the backyard, and here, for the first time since reaching the Gato, there were people. Lots of people, and they looked, for the most part, happy and normal. “Hey!” Danny pushed his front door open and waved. He looked as scruffy as ever, leaning on a metal medical cane. “Kids! Who’s that with you?” Hugues glanced at Rupert for a moment. “Do we start with unwitting time travelers, or jump straight to outside the vortex?” he mumbled, not sure which would make them more suspicious. Rupert shrugged and replied, “We might as well just explain it all and hope we don’t sound too mad. I think we can trust him, at least.” “He's your friend, go for it,” Hugues said, slapping Rupert in the back. Rupert waved to Skinner with his good hand as he walked forwards. Reaching the porch, he explained, “Hello, Daniel.” “Oh Rupert, I didn’t expect…” Danny narrowed his eyes at Rupert, and Hugues. “Weird, ain’t it?” Ed said, with an unhelpful grin. Skinner ignored him and limped down the steps to close the distance. He grabbed Rupert by his good arm, squeezed it as if he couldn’t believe it were actually flesh and blood. His mouth dropped open when he realized it was Hugues standing there too. “Did… did you two find a way to reset, after all this time? How!?” Rupert shook his head, “This might sound really strange, but we’re not your Hugues and Rupert. We’re from a different timeline.” “What?” “You know that comic where Superman goes back in time, kills Hitler, then comes back to realize that he went into an alternate reality instead?” Hugues said. “Basically that happened. Only instead of killing Hitler, someone else went back in time to stop the Summer Lady from dying and we decided to follow.” Well, at least Hitler was still dead. Danny raised an eyebrow at Ed and Lucy, who both nodded seriously. “Here I thought nothing could surprise me anymore. Come in, please.” The inside of the house felt familiar to Rupert, but also different. It took him a moment to realize it looked like it had when he’d first met Daniel, before Shirley had moved in and started taking unused furniture and the more creepy of Grandma Skinner’s trophies up to the attic. Rupert raised an eyebrow at a feather and stone fetish perched on a nearby shelf for a moment. The thing had always felt a bit off, and he'd been glad when it’d been boxed away. Shrugging, he turned to Skinner and asked, “So, this is one of the safe spots in amongst all the chaos?” “I’d like to think so,” he said, with more than a little pride. “It’s not as secret as it looks, we’ve had to do some advertising to keep the tents full, but the shields keep us free from anything without tentacles. You… or well, Rupert, keeps us safe from the things with them.” There was a thin faced man washing dishes when they reached the kitchen. He was only vaguely familiar to Rupert and Hugues. “Dan? Who are you… Oh!” “Brian, you’re not going to believe-” Upstairs something fell and the sound of kids arguing filtered through the floor followed by: “Daaaaad! Keisha started the bathroom on fire again!” “Jesus,” Brian reached for a towel, wiped his hands off, and then grabbed the hand-sized fire-extinguisher that was on top of the fridge. “Sorry, hun. Be right back.” Danny just laughed. “Take your time. She’ll grow out of it, eventually.” “Right, until she grows back into it,” Brian said as he ran out of the kitchen and dashed up the stairs. “Sometimes I’m glad being blue was my only problem,” Skinner said, as Lucy helped him sit down at the table. It took him a bit to settle and he was breathing hard for several seconds. “Well, other than the recurring gunshot wound. That’s always fun. Thanks, Lu.” Lucy smiled at him. “Did you get an apple-reset in?” Danny shook his head. “Not recently. Sorry kiddo.” “drat,” Ed said. “That tree used to pop like clockwork…” The lights flickered as upstairs, Brian used the fire extinguisher to great effect. “Well, long story short, we're looking for ‘us’,” Hugues said, plopping down in a chair. “Magic shenanigans, need all hands on deck so maybe we can bring an end to your endless night. We would invite you too but, uh, looks like you have your hands full.” “I was never much of a fighter, these days I’m more of a casualty. But anything to do with bringing back the stars, you’ve got what I can give.” Ed and Lucy quickly filled him in on the most pressing details. “So, that’s why we were hoping you’d seen Rupert lately,” Lucy finished. Danny crossed his arms. “Well, I wish I could be more help but all I can tell you is he hasn’t been here for a while, and the last I heard he was heading towards the fringes. Mother Sula’s old place, I think. There was a lot of wiggly activity over there recently.” Ed bit his lip. “Yeah, well, Elbridge has been over there with the beacon…” “Ah. That’s why then.” Skinner narrowed his eyes. “It worked, Danny,” Lucy said. “We could actually… we could go home…” The mostly-demon looked like he wanted to argue with her but he just shook his head instead. “Yeah, let’s do what we can to help then. Get me the city map from the desk in the living room.” Lucy jumped to get it. As soon as she was out of hearing range Danny turned to Hugues. “Now, tracking Rupert down might be dangerous but I know he’s out there. You, on the other hand, went missing a long time ago. No one’s forgotten you exist so you’re probably still out there somewhere. Best bet might be to talk to the teachers over by the school. Hugues spent a lot of time there before he went dark, I remember that much.” “I used to, well he...uh...the apartment is near the school so that's not surprising.” Hugues nodded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Maybe the key will still work. Find a clue, maybe. Thanks for the heads up.” Danny nodded. “A lot of the schools are set up as safe-zones, but that one’s right on the edge of Nerissa’s territory so it’s always had some problems. If you’re going that way be careful of vampires.” “The more things change, the more things say the same,” Hugues grumbled. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and these ones won’t have a tank,” replied Rupert. “Nah, that tank was anti-wizard weaponry. Something they brought in specifically to deal with us.” Hugues shrugged. “And I think civilians would complain if they brought tanks in New Orleans again.” “You guys fought a tank?” Ed asked. “Like, a real tank? From the army? And the vampires had it?” “Oh yeah. Stupid vampires gave me a concussion on the concussion,” Hugues grumbled. “Red Court is full of jerks.” Rupert nodded in agreement to the sentiment, “Jerks with too much money. Still, we survived the drat thing in the end.” “Jeez,” Ed said. “And I thought we had it rough.” “Who had what rough?” Lucy asked, as she came back in with the map. “Nevermind,” Skinner took it and pulled a pen out of his front pocket. He made a marker and drew an arrow. “If you’re looking for Rupert, start on this block, work your way west. If he’s where I think he is you’ll hear him before you see him.” He made a circle over another area. “Hugues lived in this building, but you know that already. The school’s not far, right there. Up to you where you go first.” Rupert glanced down at Hugues and said, “We might be better off tracking down my counterpart first. If he’s been roaming about, he might have heard something of your counterpart.” Hugues nodded. “Sounds good to me. You’re taking point on this one though. This one comes down to how well you know yourself.” mistaya fucked around with this message at 02:49 on Nov 17, 2017 |
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Nov 16, 2017 21:53
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GM NOTE: While Hugues Turner was active in alternate-New Orleans, (as seen above,) the party was not able to find him in time for the battle with Tor, and had to return to the bar without him.
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Feb 9, 2018 22:27
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Standoff Scene: Sun Hill Apartments “I’m back,” said the Denarian. “They’re telling the truth,” Marcine observed. “Hardley is too drunk to appreciate my illusions,” they sounded a bit miffed. “They seem determined to talk to you, even knowing about me.” “Guess it actually is important.” “What should we do with him?” they asked, as Seth’s dot remained isolated and motionless in the first floor broom closet. “I’m not sure why he hasn’t come out of there yet. I didn’t do anything to keep him there.” She frowned at the dot. If they were real, then so was he, and her father was not indecisive. She sent her awareness through the wards that covered every exposed inch of the walls until she sensed his presence and watched. His thought process seemed to be...looping. Trying to get around a concept that kept dragging it back without resolution. A mental compulsion at odds with what he wanted to do. She hadn’t seen him in years. It might as well have been a lifetime ago. He wouldn’t like what he found. Why had he bothered to come all this way? Because once he knew there was a way in, nothing would keep him out… She lightly reached out to his mind. “What the hell did she do to you?” His response was a jumble of impressions before he seemed to remember how to answer properly. “Marcine? It’s-- That’s you? Mine?” His mental voice trailed off into another incoherent mess. Mostly, she sensed confusion. This wasn’t how his brain normally worked, and he had no idea why he couldn’t think straight. “Yeah. It’s me.” Her influence was limited from so far away, but she probed at the mental block as best she could. “Just sit tight, Dad, I’ll be down soon and I can fix it.” He answered in wordless acknowledgement, and she drew back to her own head. “She put a mental block on him,” she said aloud. “I can’t even tell what it’s for from here.” “That’s your father?” “Yeah.” She glared at the dots in the stairwell. “I guess now I can say it’s personal.” “Should I send the vampires to keep them downstairs? They seem well prepared for our defenses, but we shouldn’t let them disturb the residents.” “I’d have to get new guards. These were hard enough.” She took her rifle off of its wall-mounted rack beside the door. “Let’s go.” --- The second floor was a long hallway with doors on either side leading to individual apartments. The stairs themselves rounded a corner and continued up. There were wards on the floor and the wall of varying sizes, some painted delicately in light blue and some carved directly into the plaster and tile, all intricately woven together into larger patterns. “Well, that’s not encouraging,” Elbridge mumbled. “We won’t get past those without their keys, and cutting through them all will be a bother…” (Elbridge rolls Lore: Wardings at the wards: ++-+ +5 = 7, nice. If there’s an aspect or boost he gets out of this, I’m calling it “I’ve Covered Wards, You Know”) Marcine leaned in for a closer examination. If she’d made them, she ought to be able to figure out how to unmake them, unless they were the Fallen’s handiwork. The bottom of the door frame was peppered with the same kind of small holes they’d seen outside. Now that she looked closer, they were on the floor, too, some boring into the tile and others forming shallow wriggling paths along it. Just how far had the attack reached? What mattered was that the wards were undisturbed, so her father hadn’t come this way. She looked down the hallway, but the place had an air of long disuse, at odds with how everything else outside the attack zone had barely changed. He might have stayed downstairs. Marcine frowned, debating whether to continue or backtrack to find him first. The door to the next floor up creaked open and she recognized the sound of her own boots (the fashion ones that weren’t for stomping around the woods) on the stairs. The version of herself that had allied with a fallen angel and started a cult. Marcine swallowed and stood her ground as her double rounded the corner and stopped on the landing. She was dressed in a black, loose blouse and jeans, carrying a rifle at her hip. Which, in a second, was leveled at her. “What did you do to Dad?” the other Marcine asked coldly. Marcine blinked. “Where is he?” Her double descended the second flight slowly, aim unerring, though she held the gun oddly. “Hiding in a closet on the first floor. Because someone hosed up a compulsion so bad that he can’t even respond to me properly.” She stopped at the foot of the stairs and spared a glance at Elbridge that held nothing but contempt. “So what did you do?” That shouldn’t have happened. It had been barely a nudge. "He wanted to come over here on his own, but it was too dangerous, and I didn't have time to try to convince him. You know how he gets. It was just to keep him safe." She felt an odd pressure in her head, and the memory she had of the conversation froze, like it had been caught before normal thought processes could slide it away. "You were at the bar,” her double said, and sighed as her thoughts returned to normal. "If you couldn't convince him it was a stupid idea in the ten minutes it takes to get through that drat airlock, I might as well put you out of your misery. Why shouldn't I?" She’d just read her mind. Granted, they were the same person, so that was probably easy, but that was a lawbreak (or was it?), and she didn’t even care. It took Marcine a moment to find her voice. "Because we don't respawn." Her counterpart blinked, like that was an alien concept, and turned her cold regard to Elbridge. "If he didn't come back, it would have saved me a lot of trouble." “Jus’ imagine how I feel,” Elbridge slurred. “Ms. Sterling, I am very disappointed in you. Both you’s. It’s as if I’m talking to myself.” “You weren’t invited,” she said flatly. “And you’re a Denarian,” Elbridge said. Her lip curled. “And you're why. loving congratulations.” She shifted her aim to him. Marcine quickly stepped between them. “He’s not the one you know.” “Isn't he? He was loving with Outsiders long before any of this happened. It was deal with Shamsiel or watch everybody die for good. Meanwhile, you made a mess out of Dad’s head because you were impatient. So you can both gently caress right off." She stalked across the wards and past them both. “It worked.” She paused before she entered the next stairwell and turned back exasperatedly. “Doesn’t explain why you feel the need to bother me.” “Your father is worried for you. He’s been worried for six years, and for damned good reason,” Elbridge explained. “It was all we could do to stop him from storming the Towers the instant we were through the - ‘made a mess out of his head’?” he finished, almost falling over as he whiplashed toward Marcine. “You...surely you didn’t…” He thought back to his heated argument with his own double, and the talk of what this city’s Marcine had done in extremis, and of Seth’s surprisingly sudden acquiescence to their plan. “...you broke the Laws in the middle of an argument about your breaking the Laws?!” “It-- it wasn’t reading his mind or forcing him to do anything. He wasn't rational. It was just a little nudge so he’d see sense. It was supposed to be gone in a few seconds. Was I supposed to let him wander off on his own?” Her own voice sounded weak. “There’s no way this should have been a problem…” “When you find y’rself saying that, there’sh already a problem,” El slurred. “Stopped meself over a century ago, right after ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’” Marcine needed a deflection. She addressed her double. “The reason we’re here--” “Save it,” she interrupted, and pointed down the stairs. “You’re staying in my sight.”
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Feb 9, 2018 22:57
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One Big Happy Family Scene: Sun Hill Apartments The closet door creaked open, and the other Marcine emerged shaking her head, but not before they glimpsed her wiping her eyes. "Why are you provoking the Denarian?" Without waiting for a response, she folded her arms. “Now, again: What do you need me for?” “How do you feel about fighting a dragon?” Marcine asked. Her double snorted, looked doubtful, then determined she wasn’t joking. “Dragons. That thing in the fairgrounds. That dragon.” She nodded. “You want to kill that dragon.” “At least keep it busy while we do what we need to. That’s where all this started. We have to get to the source if we’re going to do anything about it.” “Or I could stay and not have to remake all the wards if I die again.” Seth, still standing in the doorway, grimaced. “How many times…?” She reached up to rub her left arm. “I stopped keeping track.” That motion clicked with the strange way she’d held her rifle--mostly in her right hand, the left braced against it, supporting her aim but not really holding it. “What happened to your arm?” Marcine asked. Her double looked down at her hand like she’d just noticed what she was doing. She shrugged to herself and slid up the flared sleeve. A smooth scar started at her shoulder, which bore the mark of a newly-healed puncture wound, and ended just past her elbow. She flexed her hand, but only her thumb and forefinger moved much; the rest barely straightened from their neutral relaxed curl. “Outsiders happened.” She dropped her sleeve. “At least I survived. Maks didn’t.” Marcine felt the weight of her violin. It would be impossible to play in that condition. That was the kind of injury she’d feared her entire life. “I’m sorry,” she said numbly. She folded her arms, with the left resting on top, her right supporting it. It didn’t look comfortable. Neither did she. “Yeah, well. If you think you sense Maks out there, don’t listen to it. It’s not him.” She seemed to stare through the wall rather than at it. “Even if it is, there’s nothing you can do about it.” Seth put an arm around her shoulder. “You wouldn’t be alone.” “So I get to see even more people die for no reason? Great. Wonderful.” She shrugged him off and glared at the intruders. “You still haven’t answered my drat question.” “What answer do you want?” Marcine asked. “We don’t know what’s in there. We just need to tip the odds as far in our favor as possible.” She gestured toward where the wall had been. “That would be useful! I don’t even know what kind of things you can do now, I just know it’s more than I can.” “You don’t get it. You know what death does to magic?” Her double raised her right hand and snapped her fingers. “Gone. The people here rely on me. They’re not talents. They can’t defend themselves against vampires or Outsiders or any loving thing out there. I can. Just me. Because that’s how I had to build all this poo poo. Because nobody loving else would. And you want me to go fight a drat dragon for some vague plan that might work.” “Has worked,” Elbridge spoke up. “At least up until this point. We’re in the city and we have a way inside. Cagey bastard really does have it all mapped out, doesn’t he?” “Oh. So this is you again. He wants us to get eaten by a dragon because the Outsiders didn’t do the job.” Her lip curled. “I am done with his loving ‘plans.’” “But he got us here,” Marcine insisted. “We can fix it. The barrier was already collapsing.” “Since when do you believe in acceptable losses?” she snapped. Marcine’s mouth twitched. “Maybe since a friend’s death curse gave us our way in yesterday. He won’t be coming back.” “Neither will Maks,” she said bitterly. “And would Maks want you to sit around here when you have the chance to fix it?” Her eyebrows arched. “But you’re the one fixing it.” Marcine now knew what it felt like to want to punch yourself. “I haven’t come all this way to fail.” “Neither have I.” Her double pointed at the doors. “Get out.” Marcine stood her ground. Her hands twitched, wanting to grab something; she settled on the pin and let the soft feel of Zophiel’s feathers calm her down. Getting mad wasn’t going to do anything. “Do you still have these?” “They’re a nice hat decoration with a handy plus-one versus vampires.” This might not be a good idea, with a fallen angel lurking in her double’s head, but Marcine didn’t see many alternatives. “His name’s Zophiel. I summoned ours to this timeline for help. He’s holding the way open for us, through the other side of the barrier, so we can get out if things go wrong. But we’d have to do it through a horde of Outsiders hanging around. He seems to believe in us.” “From your timeline.” Her double gritted her teeth audibly. “Then where’s ours after six drat years?” “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I only had a direct link to mine.” “Even the heavenly host cannot travel openly in the beyond,” Shamsiel said, stepping out from behind their partner. “I would have taken us home long ago, if it were possible. Not that it’s an excuse for six years of inaction on their part but what can you expect?” If looks could kill, Seth would have evaporated Shamsiel on the spot. Marcine tightened her hold on the brooch. “Then you can ask yours. Believe me, I was ready to throw these things out with everything we had to go through to get here, but breaking this stupid bubble is more important than worrying about that. Elbridge opened the door, Zophiel helped us get through it, and everything else is up to us. If we do nothing, you’re just going to keep fighting a slow decay. You know drat well you can’t win that.” Her double snorted. “Since when did that ever stop me from trying?” “From trying to prevent it? Sometime in the last six years, apparently.” “Don’t you loving imply I haven’t done anything--” “Then DO SOMETHING NOW!” Marcine shouted, which was enough to take her counterpart aback. “We have one shot at this. One. If we fail, we don’t have a chance to regroup and decide that maybe we could have done it if we had a couple more hands on deck. We don’t get to try again. You don’t get to try again, no one ever gets out of here, and the world tree dies.” She faced Shamsiel. “At least you should know what that means.” “Yes.” The Denarian tucked their hands inside their sleeves and gave her a slight bow. “I am, at heart, a performer, Miss Sterling. I demand an audience. I admit to a certain… enthusiasm… upon our first meeting, but I have no real need to hurt anyone, unlike some of my more bloodthirsty cousins. Something that you’ve come to appreciate over the years.” “Much like a staph infection,” she said tiredly, “Sham grows on you.” Shamsiel kept going. “In fact we have created a place of safety, of security, even in this, to pardon the term, private hell.” They smiled at their own joke, but the look they shot Elbridge after was pure poison. “If there is as you say, a way out, not just for us but for everyone that Hardley hasn’t yet condemned to oblivion... ” ”I see worse than you every time I close my eyes at night,” Elbridge muttered, though not so quietly that Shamsiel couldn’t hear it. “...then I believe we should take it. ‘Do not go gentle into the night’, as the poet said. ‘Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.’ I must agree. We should fight this beast and destroy it, or at least have tried. I have never been an advocate of doing nothing.” Despite their overly eloquent words, they looked to their Marcine with fondness, like a parent trying to coach a child to be brave enough to try something new. “You too?” she muttered. She looked upward, toward all the people in their apartments above. “I’ll regret this like I regret everything else I let Elbridge talk me into.” “Not this time,” Marcine said firmly. “Regrets are like wrinkles,” Elbridge mumbled, his eyes distant for a moment. “They come with age and some people claim they’ve found a way to avoid them, but it always involves taking something toxic.” “You’d know that best,” the other Marcine observed with a sigh. “Fine. I need to prep. I’ll meet you at the bar.” Seth gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “I’m staying with you.” “That little trust?” Despite the question, she smiled. “Sure.” Marcine couldn’t say she was disappointed to get away from the Denarian. “See you there, then.” She braced herself as they headed outside. Now she’d have to hear the goddamn buzzing again. --- After they left, Seth turned to Shamsiel and took a slow breath; what he was about to say already pained him. “I expect you already know my opinion of you. And I’m sure we’ll have a lot to discuss later. All the same… I appreciate that you’ve looked out for my daughter.” “I do like being appreciated,” Shamsiel said, smugly. “Don’t get used to it.”
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Feb 9, 2018 23:08
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We All Hang Together Scene: El Gato Negro The “airlock” to the Gato was crammed full between Elbridge, Marcine, Rupert, Hugues, Edward, and Lucy. It was like standing in the world’s most-uncomfortable elevator, with only some untimely flatulence needed to complete the experience. Elbridge took the time to refresh the fog-proofing spell on his glasses yet again - crossing all of these thresholds had done a number on the fragile enchantment. “So,” he said at last. “How did it go?” It was about as close to small talk as he felt he could manage at the moment. “Oh, you know, some little buggers tried to eat us, got a gun pointed at me by myself,” replied a Rupert slumped down on the floor, trying to manage something that vaguely resembled rest, “The usual for this place. No luck with Hugues’ counterpart, unfortunately. Apartment was empty and after, well…” He inclined his head towards the outer door, “We thought we better head back.” “Ah.” Elbridge nodded, his thoughts still not quite in the here-and-now. “We found Ms. Sterling’s double.” He did not sound particularly-happy about it. “I sense there’s a 'but’ coming,” replied Rupert, looking up at Elbridge and Marcine. She grimaced. “Might as well say it before she gets here… You know that Fallen I told you about? She took the coin to protect herself.” Rupert sucked in a breath and swore, “drat.” “The whole area around the apartment was a wreck, so I guess I can’t blame her. Shamsiel was the one that convinced her to help us in the end, so I’m not sure what to think.” “The outlook was a bit, er...disastrous,” Elbridge said. “Wholly-inauspicious, really, by the reading. But since I swore an oath on my power to Seth…” “At least he found his daughter. Small victories, I suppose,” said Rupert. Glancing up, he added, “And hey, she’s on our side for the moment. That’s something.” “You sure it wasn’t Tamiel?” Lucy asked nervously. “He seemed like the type to want everyone to know exactly who he was.” Marcine glanced from her to Edward. So these were the kids Rupert had told her about. “Definitely not Tamiel then,” Ed said, squeezing Lucy’s hand. “I don’t think she’s still here, Lu. Would’ve shown up by now.” Lucy looked away. “Yeah, well, apparently we missed another one so…” “From everything I could find out, the coins have a habit of doing stuff like that,” replied Rupert, grimly, “Wish I could have found out more.” With a sigh, he added, “And here was me thinking the whole golem limb thing my counterpart had going on was going to be the craziest thing our counterparts were up to.” Marcine raised an eyebrow. “Golem limb thing?” A sudden, jarring impact cracked the enchanted glass of the airlock’s interior door. The sound was deafening in the confined space. Chips and shards fell away on both sides, and the indentation in the window resembled most of a fist, topped with a smear of blood. “Ah.” Elbridge nodded to Marcine. “Golem limb thing.” “Damnit,” swore Rupert again, dragging himself up, “This brings a whole new meaning to the idea of lying to myself.” The door finally swung open at that moment to reveal quite a scene. The Black Cat’s barricaded interior looked as if it had been stormed by a mob of angry ogres. Tables were overturned and splintered, bottles and glasses shattered, and several other fist-shaped indentations were evident in the walls. An older, more-grizzled Rupert was doubled over from exertion, breathing haggardly, glaring daggers at the other Elbridge. For his part, El-2’s white Panama suit was streaked red with blood, and the flesh around one eye was livid and bruised. His face was as stony and impassive as ever; as they watched, the older Rupert threw another punch at him, gathering dirt and debris around the fist in a stony shell. Then, suddenly, El-2 was on the other side of the bar, and yet another bottle of bottom-shelf vodka exploded in the space behind where he’d been standing. “How much more of this bloody city has to fall thanks to your damned fool plan?” spat the older Rupert in halted growls as he leaned against the bar, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “That depends.” El-2 waved his hand, and the trashed interior began to sort itself out. Tables uprighted, chairs and barstools slid back into place, and the glass...well, nothing doing there. The pieces simply moved to pile themselves in unobtrusive corners, awaiting a dustbin. “Are you quite finished yet?” “Depends,” grumbled old Rupert, snatching one of the remaining bottles from behind the bar. He lowered the scarf covering his face just long enough to take a long swig. A big chunk of his chin was missing. It wasn't pretty. “Are you still doing the whole not-giving-a-toss thing about the cost of your insane plan?” Taking another swig, he sunk down onto one of the bar stools, still glaring at El-2. “Singh, don’t presume to guess at my feelings,” El-2 said icily. “They’re rather beside the point.” “You promised!” Lucy said, striding into the room with her hands on her hips, and no heed for the damage, self-repairing or otherwise. “I said I wouldn't shoot him,” said old Rupert, leaning back against the bar and nodding towards the pile of firearms he’d dropped on it earlier, “Besides, he’s had worse than a punch or two. He’ll survive.” Marcine went to see if Elbridge needed medical attention, but pulled up short at the sound of her own dry laugh from behind her. Her double stood smirking beside the door. “Well, aren’t you a sight for black eyes.” Marcine shot her a glare and kept moving. “Ms. Sterling,” El-2 said. He didn’t push Marcine’s help away, but nor did he quite move to accommodate her. “Will you be joining us, then?” If he noticed anything, or guessed at anything, or had known anything all along, none of them could tell. He might as well have been greeting his bridge partner. “Might as well drag something worthwhile out of your mess.” She walked to a corner of the bar, hooked a chair upright with her foot and sat down as Seth joined her. He looked uncomfortable at the entire situation. Marcine noticed her double had changed into an open-backed tunic and leggings with sandals--a rather strange outfit to be fighting a dragon in. Maria walked out of the kitchen and threw a bag of frozen peas on the bar. It skidded to a stop in front of El-2. “Ah. Thank you,” he told her. “And you,” he added to Marcine, pressing the bag to his swollen orbit. “Are we all present, then?” “Tsk,” said Shamsiel, from behind Marcine. “Our supporting cast is a bit… lacking.” Edward faced them, one of his flammable talismans tucked between two fingers. “You want to go solo the dragon, green eyes? We’ll wait.” “Oh, we’re letting children fight now?” Shamsiel rolled their eyes. “My, my, how desperate we’ve become.” The older Marcine snorted. “Wasn’t that your entire sales pitch to get me over here?” Shamsiel sighed. “True. It would be pointless to cause discord now, when they are in such need of our help.” With that apparently settled, she waved Maria over and turned away from the rest of the room with a clear air of dismissal. “Well?” Talia said from the back booth, where she, Drouillard and Nicholas had been watching the fight. “If everyone is prepared-” El-2 began. “Where’s Angie?” Marcine cut in. “She went to retrieve Warden Cole,” El-2 said, slightly peevish at the interruption. “She did not return to the rendezvous point, nor to here, and she has not made contact since. I know that she is still alive, but I do not think she will be joining us at the moment.” He reached under the bar and retrieved Angie’s rifle from its place next to Maria’s bat and Drou’s shotgun, passing it to Marcine. “She requested that I give you this.” “Oh.” Because she was more comfortable with a rifle and didn’t have hers. Marcine sat down and tried not to think about what ‘still alive’ might imply. “With that in mind, here is the plan of action: Operation Blue Sky,” El-2 continued. “No evil books this time. No secrets or lies. Just us, our last hope for the city, and a bloody great dragon.” “Well, and a gazebo,” Nicky said. “The gazebo is more important than the dragon, really.” “The dragon is on top of the gazebo, Stripe,” Talia explained patiently. “One thing at a time.”
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Feb 13, 2018 05:02
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Beauty and the Bat Scene: A Hole in the Wall A few broken cement stairs led down into a dimly lit barroom. Upended wooden wire spools took the place of tables, and no two chairs matched. The floor was hard packed earth, and the bar itself was a broken length of ship’s keel on sawhorses. There were no house lights, just a few smoked glass lanterns hanging from the ceiling to let the humans see by. Vampires slouched comfortably in the scavenged furniture, while their humans held them, or fed them, or otherwise pleasured them. Alcohol flowed freely here, and the thick cloud of smoke browning the ceiling wasn’t tobacco. At the far end of the room, an attractive young man plucked the strings of an old guitar and crooned a song to the red-head on his arm. An old couple sipped bright green liquor from mason jars. An incredibly thin woman nuzzled her partner’s neck, and when her fangs came out he leaned into them with a sigh of contentment. Elbridge was right to call this a den, Angie thought. It reminded her of the days when opium was in vogue, and it was always easy to find a little place with no name where you could drown yourself in oblivion for hours. Or forever, if that’s what you truly wanted. She glanced from face to face, never lingering long, not wanting to know the stories of desperation and loneliness that would invariably end in the canal that Enme had spoken of. She wanted to call his name, but it would only draw attention. So she kept quiet, and worked her way through the tables, one by one. It was never easy to find someone in a place where people went when they wanted to forget. --- Roger Cole was sitting alone in a corner, his broken office chair leaned comfortably against the wall. He wasn’t welcome at the tables, and he’d rather listen to Reese play his guitar than start a fight. He took a cigarette out of the silver case in his shirt pocket and called a small flame to his palm. Instantly, every vampire’s eye was on him. Even Reese paused his playing and looked down from the stage with an eyebrow raised. A smirk crossed Roger’s face. He’d started burning the place down right before the reset as retribution for the time they’d gotten up the nerve to throw him out, and reset was tomorrow. They were wondering if he was ahead of schedule. The sound of alcohol hissing and glass bottles exploding against his shield might be cathartic, but… no. He needed the place in one piece for now. He lit his cigarette and shook his hand to dispel the flame. A barely audible sigh went through the crowd as they went back to their business. Reese started playing again, Johnny Cash this time, Ring of Fire. There were a few groans but the bad joke let the tension out of the room and by the time he was through Roger was forgotten again. Just another wall decoration, exactly what he wanted to be. His skin felt too tight, and he scratched at his arms, leaving shallow red furrows. Rick’s body didn’t always change when his mind did, and the vampire felt vulnerable, even though he was far from helpless. He couldn’t even feed to take the edge off. He didn’t like alcohol, didn’t like anything that made him less sharp. So he smoked, and it helped, and Rick could join him or deal with the nicotine cravings. It was one of the few concessions he’d actually won in their little tug of war. Reese noticed him sulking and keeping in the Cash theme, started strumming Folsom Prison Blues. Roger rolled his eyes and glanced back at the bar, wondering if it might be worth the risk to get wasted just this once. But no, they’d kill him the second he bobbed his head, and he couldn’t afford to be dead now. Not when Operation Bellend had actually gone off without a hitch. He took a long drag and tapped his fingers in time with the music. “I’m stuck in Folsom Prison,” he muttered along with the tune. “And time keeps draggin’ on…” The letter in his pocket felt like it weighed half a ton. He knew what it meant, and what it meant for him particularly, and hiding in here was the only way he was going to make it out of all this alive. “Well I know I had it comin’, I know I can’t be free…” quote:We need your help. “Far from Folsom Prison, that’s where I want to be...” quote:This is our last chance. No matter who reads this... Lucy’s writing. Hardley wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t dare, not after everything they’d done to each other. Even Rick didn’t talk to El much anymore after… He counted his fingers again, making sure they were all there. El- He shook his head. That was Rick-talk. Hardley had done everything he could think of to push Roger under, but he hadn’t counted on Rick remembering every last detail of it. Rick hadn’t agreed to some of the final, desperate attempts. He hadn’t even complained when Roger caught up to the bastard and killed him outright the next cycle. “I didn’t torture him back,” Roger said to no one. Rick would remember it when he woke up… His hand shook slightly as he reached for another cigarette. Rick wasn’t going to wake up, was he? Not if things went to plan. If Rick and El- Hardley’s initial assessments were correct, if the city was restored then the cycle would lock. No more resets. No more Roger, unless he was in the driver’s seat when it happened. If he was, then no more Rick. If Hardley had just listened… You started that one. quote:No matter who reads this... He needed to forget, but Marcine wouldn’t even talk to him. And no matter how well he faked being Rick, she could tell it was him. Not that he was ever much good at faking. He’d inherited his brother’s lack of talent in that department. He’s not your brother. Close enough! He looked wistfully at the bar again, there had to be some way for him to get stone drunk and lock himself in the cellar, barricade the door, and wait for all this to stop mattering… And then he saw her. Angelique Montes. Impossible as it was undeniable. She moved through the oblivious vampires and their thralls like a shark through tuna, her sharp eyes flicking back and forth. She could only be looking for one person. “How?” he whispered. She froze, his voice reaching her through the music and the crowd’s murmur, then slowly turned to face him. “Rico?” she mouthed his name and it physically hurt. Rick’s emotions ran through him like water through a sieve. I love you, I miss you, I’m afraid for you, I want you, I love you… He couldn’t stop them, so he just let them run their course, letting himself feel and then letting those feelings go as best he could. It was never perfect, they always tainted him, as they’d done countless times, as they’d been doing ever since this bitch taught Rick how to suppress the fledgeling vampire inside him. Two years! No one had hurt him the way that Angelique had hurt him. She had done everything in her power to prevent him from even being born. He closed his eyes and let the initial flood of feelings pass, and when he opened them he looked at her calmly and said the most hurtful thing he could think of. The truth. “No.” --- For a long moment she stood there, taking him in. Not a shadow of him from another world, but her own friend and student, alive and well. He looked like he was seeing a ghost, and her expression mirrored his own. But she couldn’t run to him, because it wasn’t him. She’d been prepared for the vampire to lie, to try to lure her into thinking that he was Rico, but he hadn’t. He smiled thinly at her shock, then beckoned her to come closer with two fingers, a cigarette clutched between them. The cross necklace bit into her hand as she squeezed it tightly. She felt her skin flush as her tattoos started to color in. A hundred years of training screamed at her to shoot this inhuman thing that was defiling her friend’s corpse but she resisted. He was still in there. Elbridge had promised her it was so. She had to have faith. The vampire grabbed the back of a chair from one of the tables nearby and dumped the occupant- one of the half-drunk blood donors- on the floor. There was a noise of complaint that quickly went quiet when they saw who’d taken the seat, and they scurried off. He set the chair down against the wall next to the one he’d been sitting in and tilted his head the way Rico used to when asking a question without words. She nodded once and approached, waiting for him to sit down before pulling the offered chair slightly farther away and sitting herself. “Who are you then?” she asked. “Roger,” said the vampire. He gave her a smile that was half-grimace. “And you’re Angie.” “Not to you,” she snapped. “Angelique then? I’m not calling you Montes. We’ve known each other for too long.” “Fine.” Something wasn’t right about him, but it took a moment to place it. The wrinkles at his eyes, the scars on his hands when he took another cigarette out of his pocket... Red court vampires didn’t keep those on their flesh masks. They were always just a little too pretty to be real. It was something she’d had a lifetime of learning to spot. “You’re human,” she said. “For tonight,” Roger said, shrugging. He sat on the edge of his chair, half his weight still on his feet. It was unsettling. Rico never sat like he was ready to start a fight. “Guess that means you can’t kill me.” Her eyes widened in surprise. He was right. “I didn’t come here to kill you,” she said quickly. “You didn’t come here for me,” he corrected. “Don’t worry, I get that a lot. But you knew my brother. He’d have been there for Operation Bellend if he could have. So why are you here, since you knew it’d be me?” Brother? “I came a long way to find him,” Angie said, glancing down at her bag. “I wanted to at least know he was alive.” “Oh he’s alive alright,” Roger said bitterly. “But you didn’t come all the way from Brazil just to check on us. You thought you could coax him out, didn’t you? That maybe you were the special key to bringing him back all along. That Hardley just wasn’t trying hard enough with the pliers.” She shook her head. “I’m not that young and foolish anymore.” She pulled her satchel into her lap and opened it for him to see. The folded grey square of cloth on top made him flinch, visibly. “You went to our house,” he accused. “I did.” “That rag doesn’t mean anything to me.” Angie took a deep breath. There was always the risk that it would come to this, and even though it was a betrayal it was hopefully one that Rico could forgive. She took the cloak out and offered it to him. “I think it does. I think you imprinted for too long, Roger Cole.” “It’s your fault!” he shouted, standing up. The room quieted, until Angie felt exposed under the eyes of curious vampires. Roger turned on them with a glare that lowered the room temperature three degrees. That fast, everyone found something more interesting than the angry wizard to look at. Angie could hear the desperation under his rage. It meant she was right. She stood also, letting the cloak and the bag drop to the ground. “Roger,” she said. “Do you hate me?” “Yes!” No hesitation there, but it wasn’t that simple. She had to break him, and she was sorry that she knew how. “Do you love me?” “Why are you here?!” he asked, spreading his hands to his sides, shoulders back. She stepped into his arms and embraced him before he could react. He stood there for a full minute, shocked and confused. She held on tightly, pressing her forehead into his chest. He took a step back and bumped into the wall. Nowhere to run. He would either attack her now, or Rico’s feelings would win out. Have faith! Slowly, awkwardly, his arms went around her. “Angie…” She raised her head enough to look at his face. A tear fell on her cheek, and she blinked away tears of her own. He felt like Rico, he sounded like Rico, he even smelled like Rico. But he wasn’t, and so she did the cruelest thing she could think of. She kissed him. --- She’s using you! This is a trap! He knew, and he didn’t care. He could never have her for real, but if she wanted to fake it, even just this much, then he would take what was given and treasure it forever. He kissed her back, and pulled her against him, and pretended she meant it. “You’re the monster,” he said, when she finally broke away from the kiss. She stayed in his arms, running her hand over his chest. “I’ve had longer to practice,” she said, not even trying to deny it. “I love you,” he said. “Then tell me why you’re hiding here,” she said. “When all your friends are going out to fight.” “Why would they need me?” Angie took a deep breath and said a single name. “Factorax.” Roger’s eyes widened. “Oh.” He hadn’t thought they’d go after the wyrm directly. Was it even possible? Ideas started to float through his head but he knew he was being manipulated. “No, they can handle it just fine. Or they can’t. Either way, no skin off my back.” “Roger…” That was too much. He took a ragged breath and caught her hand. “Don’t.” She sensed she’d crossed a line and pulled back enough to let him breathe. “If you don’t come, and they lose, what then? Trapped in a shrinking bubble until it pops and the Outsiders eat all of us? Do you hate them that much?” “Maybe Elbridge…” he said bitterly. But even that was a lie. He shook his head. “That’s not what this is about.” She dipped, picking up the cloak. “Then why?” “I’m not him. If I put that on...” He sighed. It was a bullshit excuse, and he couldn’t make it convincing. She gripped his shirt and tugged, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Do you want to be here, hiding in this shithole while the last battle rages on without you? While everyone you’ve ever cared about fights for their future? Are you happy riding their coattails, Roger Cole?” Shame colored his cheeks, his own feelings resurfacing. “No.” She tucked the cloak back into her bag without looking away. “Then come with me. As yourself.” He wanted to see betrayal in those eyes, lies, a reason to refuse her. But there was nothing but fire there. She wasn’t acting anymore. He wondered what her phage would be like, after hundreds of years of imprinting on such a bright soul. Would there be anything left of them? You’re going to get yourself killed, and Rick is going to win. He smirked. Maybe, maybe not. Besides, since when did he give a poo poo about dying? “Alright. But if we’re going after Factorax, there’s something we need to get first.”
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May 22, 2018 01:12
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Burninating The Countryside, Round 1 Scene: Race Track Scene Aspects: Drou’s Mobile Armory, Biker Edward The horse track was lit by the tall light poles that surrounded it for night racing, illuminating the sleeping Wyrm. He was so large that he looked more like a snake than a dragon. Only the curls of his body were visible from beyond the western fence, where the natives of the fallen city had gathered to do battle. “So, there he is,” Ed said, biting his lip. He was on Cole’s Suzuki again, which was now basically covered in inked paper talismans. The charms would lend the bike protection, stability, speed, and a few surprises besides. Operation Blue Sky had been a long time in the planning. “Base camp is here,” Talia said, dragging a card table out of the back of the van. Drou helped her set it up and she started unpacking her books. “We should be outside of the range of the anomaly itself, and with Lucy’s veils we won’t be visible to him.” “Shouldn’t be,” Lucy corrected. “I’ve never had to fool a dragon before. If you’re too obvious I don’t think anyone’s veils would be good enough.” Talia glared at the young woman over the top of her glasses at the interruption. “We’ll keep that in mind. Just remember to fall back to us if you feel the anomaly start to cause any problems. If you get crushed or eaten there’s not much we can do about it but we’ll have strong wards against time magic set up here.” She picked up a backpack full of salt and went about pouring said wards. “I’ll bring in what I got from the station,” Drou added. “If it looks like we can help, just holler.” “There will likely be a lot of screaming,” El-2 said. “I’ll use something else to mark priority targets.” He snapped his fingers, and a blood-red glyph that resembled crosshairs shimmered into being. “This should work.” “Of all the things I could have expected,” Seth muttered, “a dragon wasn’t one of them.” Kneeling, he laid his staff on the ground, lifted the violin from its case, and tuned it with old familiarity. It was like having an old friend back--but a friend he’d sent off to look after his daughter. Now it was useless to her. Yet another sacrifice in this hellhole. Old Rupert glanced from the dragon to his rocket launcher and then back again, before grumbling, “Starting to wish I’d made a bigger rocket.” Marcine slipped her feet out of her sandals. Her form shimmered like a heat mirage, then changed. Black-feathered wings appeared on her back, her legs developed the scale and talons of a bird of prey, and silvery feathers grew along her arms and mixed with her hair. The reason for her odd choice in clothing was now apparent, as the harpy stretched her arms and wings. Shamsiel gleefully demanded to see their reactions, so she satisfied his ego through eyes golden as a hawk’s. Seth stared back at her with his mouth open and no sound coming out, though it looked like he was trying. She (or Shamsiel - it was hard to tell, sometimes) smirked, and with a powerful downbeat, went streaking through the air toward the dragon. --- Factorax coiled in an uneven pile of scales, more like a resting python than the lizard he used to be. It was easy enough to find his head, resting on the green grass of the inner track. One great paw lay over his face, shielding his eyes from the stadium lights as he slept. His spine was hunched, and his other paw was too small and twisted against his side. There was something wrong with the way he’d grown. The horns on either side of his skull didn’t match, and the skin on his face was too tight, pulling his lips into a permanent snarl and revealing the dinosaur-like teeth of his lower jaw. Colors rippled over his razor sharp hide as he breathed, an uneven sound marred by occasional shudders and coughs. Though obscenely large and no doubt just as obscenely powerful, the shortcut the wyrm had taken to gain that strength had in many ways turned him into a cripple. “Shall we begin?” Shamsiel’s excitement was empowering in its own way, their support running through her altered body like an electric current. Marcine pitied the beast, but its condition was all the more reason to put it out of its misery. “I get the feeling a gun isn’t going to do much to its scales,” she observed dryly. Shamsiel only chuckled. “No, but neither would a tank. That is a Dragon.” The single most vulnerable point would be...the eyes. She flicked her hand to the side, sending a streak of light through the air that coalesced into a mirror of herself, glowing and distracting, as she swooped in the other direction and fired a shot at the dragon’s paw. It pinged off his scales, but it woke him up. (CA with Illusions to place the aspect “Decoy”: (///-)+5 = 4. One invoke.) His paw shifted and the great orb of his eye opened. Sea green, with a vertical pupil, like a snake. The eye focused on Marcine, then flicked to the copy she’d made and back. He pushed himself off the ground without any haste, giving her time to get a good look at the tough black rubber that made up his belly scales. They looked, if anything, even more impenetrable than the rest of him. A rolling cough went through him as he faced her, eye to eye even though she was flying twenty feet off the ground, and she realized he was trying to laugh. There was a low cunning in that eye, and malice, and rage. If there had ever been anything more, it was gone now. Lost to the horrors that this world had inflicted on him, and later, those he’d inflicted on himself. The dragon’s head tilted back, his jaws opening and his nostrils flaring as he inhaled a great breath. The light construct fired off some quick shots with the sharp crack of a handgun, leaving streaks of glittering smoke in the air as they passed just by the dragon’s face. Its wings flared, glowing brightly, and it zipped upward and away from Marcine. (Tor’s head prepares to use a breath weapon. Marcine invokes her decoy for effect to draw his aim. When charged, he will blast A1 and the attack roll will be made at that time. Puck to Rupert.) Taking advantage of the distraction provided by the fallen angel, Old Rupert rolled forwards across the muddy horse track, ax-rifle in hand, his cloak gathered around him as he eyed the distance between him and the dragon. Picking his spot, he dropped low, shrouding himself with the cloak, and with a brief incantation, seemed to blend into the mud, just another bump in the ruined track. (Old Rupert enters the fray at B2. CA with Stealth! //// +3 = +3. Creates aspect: “Just Another Bump in the Track” with one free invoke. Puck to El-2.) There he was. The great beast himself, warped and held hostage by his own enormity. There might have been a metaphor in there, if El-2 had been in a mood to consider it, but the time for such things was long-since passed. Instead, he contemplated Tor’s monstrous bulk, grossly-swollen musculature straining against skin and bone, the dragon’s one massive arm threatening to tear free of its own shoulder socket. It was a wretched fate, to be sure. “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” El-2 murmured, and he spoke with pity rather than hate. He watched Marcine-slash-Shamsiel circle in the air, baiting the enraged dragon. A single blow from its oversized arm might crush any of them in an instant, if it could hit. If. If Tor’s haphazard flailing at the Denarian was any indication, that arm had quite a limited range of motion. Nowhere in the park was safe to stand, per se, but some spots were notably safer than others. (El-2 follows Old Rupert to B2 and CAs with Notice: ++-/ +5 = 6. Tor defends with Athletics: ///+ +3 = 4. Advantage Created: El places the aspect “Limited Range of Motion” on Tor’s big arm. Puck to his little arm.) Though undersized, the dragon’s left arm had other uses. The fingers flashed in a complex motion as Factorax continued to inhale, and then the dragon shifted, coils revealing a magic circle that had been hidden underneath its bulk. The claws flashed red and stabbed down into the circle, and the area where Rupert and Elbridge were standing in erupted into crimson flames. The heat rolled over and off Rupert’s enchanted cloak like water off a duck. Elbridge wasn’t so lucky, and his white suit certainly wasn’t anymore, though it was resistant enough to help protect him from the worst of the fire. When it passed you might say he was still original flavor, not yet extra crispy. (Tor attacks with magic revealing his first stunt, the magic claw’s Dragonspell. Tor’s left arm hits a whole zone with magic! Aiming at B2: 4df+5 = (+-b-)+5 = 4) Rupert defends with Physique: (-+++)+6 = 8, gets a SwS and names it “Smoke on the Battlefield.” Elbridge defends, Athletics: (b-b-)+4 = 2. FP on “we are cancelling the apocalypse” to reroll: (b--b)+4 = 2. Welp. Tor uses a FP to get three, then downgrades one for a boost: “Energized.” El-2 marks 2nd box and gains a point of Preparation against the magic claw from Second Mover Principle; El-2 FP 5->4. While the left hand cast the spell the right wasn’t idle. The dragon leaned back and reached around the copy straight for the real Marcine. She dipped a wing and swooped beneath the paw, and winced as a few feathers tore out, caught on the edge of a scale. She evaded his second swipe, but the wind from his paw passing by sent her into a tumble--and this time two claws pinned her leg. She jabbed the gun into what looked like a gap between his scales and fired; he didn’t so much as twitch in response. But with direct contact, maybe she could-- “No,” Shamsiel warned her. “In a direct contest, we will lose. Bide your time.” (Might Claw creates an advantage: “Just like King Kong” using Physique: (+-bb)+7 = 7. Marcine defends with illusions: (++bb)+5 = 7. Tor uses his Energized boost to up to 9, Marcine invokes “Welcome to my Unreality” to 9 (FP: 5 -> 4). Tor invokes the Might Claw’s aspect, “Crushing Grip” to bring it to 11, and Marcine doesn’t contest. Advantage created, one free invoke.) Tor’s sea green eye flicked, as though a button had been pushed somewhere inside him, and glowed with red neon light. He opened his maw, and there was something shining and crystalline deep in the back of his throat. It glittered dangerously, then a brilliant white light from deep within him hit the prism and split into a violent rainbow of colors that beamed forth from his mouth in a huge, burning laser. An unearthly sound accompanied it, almost like a car alarm going off. It vaporized the bit of the track where Marcine’s clone floated, leaving nothing but slag and dust. (Tor ends the round by firing his breath weapon, which was distracted into A1 by Marcine. It does (++b-)+6 = 7, at w:6 to… well nothing THIS time. Puck to Elbridge.)
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May 22, 2018 01:16
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And Their Thatched Roof Cottages! Round 4 Scene: Race Track Scene Aspects: Drou’s Mobile Armory, Biker Edward Tor’s mouth snapped shut, and his head turned towards Elbridge and Rupert. The low, rumbling growl in his chest shook the ground as he focused. The anomaly behind him lit up, flashing as brightly as a nuclear bomb for an instant as he drew on its power. “I… am… invincible!” he roared, shifting his body to reveal his regenerated left arm. Bands of ultraviolet light glowed through his white skin as the magic settled in him. He looked even bigger than he had just a moment ago, and far more aware of his surroundings. “I have crushed you before,” he told Rupert, in that strange double-layered voice. “And you,” he said to Elbridge. “Thief. Fool. Murderer…” The smoke around his mangled face gave him the look of a skull with terrible green eyes. “The source is MINE!” He looked down at Marcine, still clutched, bleeding, in his claw. “You are too weak to take it from me. ALL OF YOU!” “Well, I’m glad he’s enjoying himself,” Shamsiel grunted. She sent him back a wordless demand to shut up. “Don’t be foolish, use it! This beast is remembering it has a mind, and a mind is vulnerable where a beast is not.” Old Rupert looked over at the newly regenerated arm and grumbled, “Bollocks.” “We really should never have let him leave with us,” El-2 said, with an unspoken but definite I-told-you-so. (Top of Round Four triggers a special stunt: Temporal Smearing! Every Four rounds choose one: Erase all stress track damage from one claw (reviving it if taken out) OR… a mystery. Magic Claw takes the puck.) As if to prove his point directly, Tor’s stunted arm slashed the air, making a complex hand gesture that one could only make if one had seven fingers and several of them were six-jointed. An icy mist poured forth, coating the ground where Rupert and Elbridge stood, dampening and freezing the air. The temperature dropped abruptly and their clothes went stiff as the water turned to solid ice. Elbridge flicked out his hand to conjure a barrier, but the biting wind blew snow everywhere, and he succeeded only in creating a small penumbra, sheltered from the worst of it. When the blizzard subsided, his suit was white again, as was the rest of him. He looked like the world’s grumpiest snowman. Rupert shivered (or, at least, the flesh parts of him did) beneath his cloak as the chill wind bit through the ragged material. With a grunt, he pulled the cloak closed again for warmth, the flickering remnants of his camouflage veil all but useless as the mud was covered by a layer of snow. (Magic Claw targets B2 with a magical attack: (-++-)+7 = 7. Rupert defends: (--+b)+6 = 5, and uses his free invoke on “Bump in the Track” to tie. Tor gains a Boost. Elbridge defends: (bb-+)+6 = 6. Pings armor, so Tor gains a second Boost. “Frost Fog” and “Elemental Resonance”) “Puny - *haaaaaack* - thing,” Tor growled around the canister stuck in his throat. “Can’t *urk* hurt me.” His jagged maw twisted into a ghoulish smile. “Can hurt you. Hurt. Hurt. Huuuuurk…” His last word trailed off into a liquid, retching noise, and his throat visibly heaved up and down, forcing the fuming grenade back up his gullet. He opened wide to spit it at Elbridge… ...and then Drou shot another one straight down his throat. He pumped and cycled the pneumatic drum with a smirk of satisfaction. “Mothafucka I got plenty more where that come from.” (Head takes the puck and spits out a gas can. Difficulty 5. Physique: (+--b)+6 = 5. CA fails after Rupert invokes the “Choking Hazard” to up the difficulty to 7. (Rupert FP: 4->3). Passes puck to Might claw.) As he choked, Tor’s grip on Marcine spasmed again, tighter. She fought back with the impression of stone in his hand, an immovable force that refused to be crushed, like the earthen claw that pinned his arm. He tugged against it, but it didn’t budge. Frustrated, he shook his hand. Marcine choked back a shriek of pain when the gaping wound that had been her arm banged against his scales. They scraped away part of the cauterized scar and it started bleeding. It wasn’t much of a comfort when the dragon stopped trying to shake her to death because of a twinge in his wrist. Her vision went dark around the edges for a moment. She was already exhausted and Tor’s grip wasn’t letting up. She couldn’t concentrate with the pain, despite Shamsiel trying to block it out. She’d known this would be dangerous, sure. But this was a loving stupid way to die, crushed by what amounted to an oversized parasite. ”I will find the cracks in his psyche, but you must hold on,” Shamsiel said. “Stay conscious - even if he breaks you in half. The mind controls the body, not the other way around.” The pain disappeared, and in its place came a sudden clarity of focus. The other constant presence in her mind went oddly silent. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to overcome fatigue, as she shoved the grasping claws back with her wings. (Might Claw attacks with Combat: (+b-b)+7 = 7 at w:2. Marcine defends, Illusions: (+++-)+5 = 7. Marcine raises on “Crab Claw Action” to avoid damage, since she’s out of stress boxes. Tor invokes on her “Lost Arm” severe consequence. Marcine invokes on Tor’s mild consequence, “RSI:Rupert-caused Strain Injury” to counter. Tor invokes his “Crushing Grip” aspect for 1FP (GFP: 3->2). Marcine counters with “Shamsiel’s Bearer.” (FP: 2 -> 1) And after all that, no damage is done! Puck to Elbridge.) Elbridge wiped the snow from his glasses and squinted up at the spectacle unfolding in the air. Factorax was trying to crush Ms. Sterling, Ms. Sterling was giving as good as she got, and the dragon’s gullet was too full of toxic fumes to spew technicolour agony at anyone. Nevertheless the strike team was losing. They were harming Factorax, yes, but he was regenerating almost as quickly. Their supplies were limited; his were not. They needed to press the advantage, and to do that… “Singh!” Elbridge called, taking off at a dead sprint to put some distance between himself and the withered claw. “Big arm! Bad shoulder! Take it out!” (Elbridge moves to A2 and uses Notice to CA against the Might Claw: /+-+ +6 = 7. Claw defends: +-+/ +6 = 7. How very symmetrical. Elbridge uses his one point of Preparation against the Might Claw to raise to an 8, landing the Aspect: “It Just Comes Right Off!” And since he landed a Notice-based CA, he gets that point of Preparation right back. Puck to Rupert.) Dragging himself upwards, Rupert stretched, growling as he pushed the cold away, frost cascading from his cloak as he threw it backwards. Kicking away the snow, he cleared a section of the ground and knelt back down, plunging his hand back into the earth as if it were a liquid to him, whispering an incantation. Without the added power, it wasn’t nearly as fancy as the stone crab claw - but even without that, a stone spire sprung forth from the ground beneath Tor’s shoulder, slamming into his scales with a cheap shot from the blind spot under his limb. Or… that was the plan. Tor’s withered claw clutched at the air, and the earthen spire hit a shimmering spot in the air and disintegrated into dust instead of doing any damage. (Old Rupert, Earth Combat: --++ +6 = +6 & W:2 Tor’s Magic Claw has the stunt Magicproof, and Defend Other’s the Might Claw. (++b-)+6 = 7, so a miss.) Marcine wasn’t going to get anywhere if she didn’t come up with a plan. Instead of fighting back blindly, she breathed deep and tried to think. Tor wasn’t going to let go of her until he felt her bones break in his hand, or...he had something better to do. She focused on the remnants of the first illusion she’d made, and a shining figure streaked toward Tor’s exposed shoulder, wings spread and a sword held ready to strike. (CA with Illusions: (+--+)+5 = 5, vs Tor’s Notice: (b++b)+4 = 6. Marcine tags “It Just Comes Right Off!” to place the Aspect “A Bigger Threat” with 1 free invoke, and keeps the puck for the next round.)
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May 22, 2018 01:29
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Power Surge Scene: Behind the Dragon Meanwhile, the original crew frantically ran for the revealed gazebo, crossing the muddy track as quickly as they were able. They could see the anomaly itself now, a sickly yellow-green crack in reality much like the one that they’d seen at JR’s grave hill, but ten times as large. Nicky’s time-wards grew red hot as they approached, but the pocket watch gears in each one withstood the test, and the wards held. Directly in the center of the gazebo itself was a completely out of place marble arch, inlaid with gold and decorated with greek letters. There was a hand-shaped indentation on one side. “There!” yelled Nicky. “That’s it!” “Wait!” Hugues grabbed his arm and pulled him down, out of the way as Tor’s tail whipped through the air over his head like a knife, decapitating several small trees. The dragon’s front end might be down but his back half was struggling into motion. The tail wasn’t just wantonly destroying shrubbery. It was looking for something, and in a quick moment it found the crack in time - and plunged directly into it. “NOW what?” Marcine yelled in equal parts frustration and panic. “Stay back!” Elbridge warned. “Try to prise it away and you’ll be dead in seconds.” He furrowed his brow, thinking on the problem. His double had said that Tor had to die. Elbridge would not have said this if he didn’t have a way to kill the dragon. Therefore, El-2 had some way to kill the dragon. Elbridge shuddered to think of what that might be, and hoped that they could find a way through before such drastic measures became necessary. “Cantor, can you sever the connection?” “If it was m-metaphorical or spiritual or anything except shoving his arse in the drat thing!” Cantor pulled himself and Hugues back to their feet. He made a repeated slicing motion with one hand. “You know how it is, Hardley! Physical problems, physical solutions!” “It’s a bloody great big dragon,” grumbled Rupert, “We can hardly just shift him out of the way!” The time scar flared with light and Tor’s tail started to glow. His scales shimmered and melted, changing from an opaque white to translucent as the light shone from inside of him. It raced up his body like food dye in water. Jenny stepped forwards and rolled up her sleeves. “Well, guess it’s time to give up then, we’ll just go home and… oh wait. Home’s that way.” She smirked at them over her shoulder and reached out with both hands. She hadn’t said much of anything since rejoining the group, even to Hugues. She hadn’t seen the point. Whatever they’d tried to do since the moment they came here had gone wrong, and some of the things she’s seen in the deep Nevernever would never leave her. On top of that, Cole… The power built in her as she squeezed invisible hands around the dragon’s tail. Fueled by her anger, she kept it inside like water behind a dam. This was how she’d lifted the antennae at the superdome. How she’d picked up cars, struck down trees, even thrown a bus once. She held onto the power until sweat poured off her, until her vision started to darken, until absolutely everything she had was pressing on the wall she’d built in her mind and then she led the dam burst with one herculean effort, dropping to her knee as she attempted to pull the tail from the crack in time. The dragon’s tail shifted a foot, then another. “Just… a little… farther…” Jenny said. And then she passed out. Tor’s tail slammed even further into the anomaly as Jenny hit the mud. Marcine handed her violin case to Hugues and dragged Jenny onto her back. Her bruised chest protested, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it as she steadied herself. Her hand went to the feathers, but it wasn’t time for that. Not yet. She focused on finding her double. At the moment of contact - feeling disorientingly like she’d somehow reached around a contacted herself from the outside, which she supposed she had - she sent the image in front of them. <We noticed,> her double responded, mental voice flat with exhaustion. Hugues rushed the arch, slapping Narcissus’ severed palm onto the hand-print, but the runes were flickering erratically and the gateway refused to open. “Well it was worth a shot,” he said, frowning. “He’s drawing too much power,” Nicky said. “We have to stop him somehow before he collapses the whole anomaly!” Hugues looked up at the dragon’s tail. “How?!” ----- Tor sat up again, both arms fully regenerated and his broken teeth falling out, replacing themselves like shark’s teeth even as the party watched. The terrible wound Rupert’s rocket launcher had inflicted didn’t heal properly, his whole jaw was crooked, but it scarred over and stopped bleeding. The now-translucent dragon glowed from within. His wings, all tattered and torn, burst from the earth where they’d been buried, slinging mud and fencing every which way. He towered over the party, roaring, and sounded absolutely thrilled. “Rupert!” Lucy’s voice was barely audible over the dragon’s roar. “Elbridge!” Tor inhaled. This time there was nowhere to hide, and no time to run. “SHIELDS UP!” yelled Cole, bursting into view just in front of the party. He raised both hands, and a dome of hex-shaped glass spread over them. Elbridge shouted an incantation, and a second shield, swirling and murky in contrast to the transparent crystal, sprang up to reinforce Cole’s. No hesitation, no doubts. Only decades of conditioned reflex, working in tandem with an old friend. As if they’d never parted, as if the last six years had never happened. Tossing the revolvers aside, Rupert dropped to his knees, plunging his hands deep into the ground, the mud parting as if it were water. The ground before the layered shield rumbled, a wall of mud rising upwards and hardening, blocking them from the dragon’s gaze, a barricade of stone against his breath. Marcine cut off her song and gave a short, tired laugh. Of course the vampire would be the one to show up. She added her own magic to the working anyway, her voice filling in the cracks between the three layers like mortar. Light exploded around them, blinding and hot, like a solar flare touching the earth itself. It hit the shield and bent, refracting into an infinite rainbow of colors. The wizards (and friends) underneath it held on for dear life, but this time… this time Tor didn’t stop. Power poured from his mouth like water from a fountain. He was no longer controlling it, just a conduit it was passing through. “El!” Roger yelled over the roar, certain death overriding any feelings he might have had one way or the other for the old wizard. “Operation Omelette!” ----- “Marcine!” Seth shielded his eyes helplessly. There was no getting closer without being vaporized. “What do we do now?” Minsk turned away, her shoulders sagging as she hugged herself. “Nothing, Sterling. Absolutely nothing.” Drou’s patrol car screeched to a stop next to them. “Look who I found,” he said out the driver’s window, thumbing towards the backseat. Angie leaned out and waved them over. “Get in, hurry!” “It’s over, Montes, or hadn’t you noticed!?” Minsk shouted. “Not yet,” Angie said, with the biggest smile on her face.
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Jun 16, 2018 00:00
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The Entire History of You Scene: Yggdrasil The road ended at the outskirts of town and they had to proceed on foot. It became immediately apparent that the city hadn’t been destroyed by the great tree, it was simply gone, as if it had never existed at all. There were no buildings, no cars, no wreckage underneath the roots. The ground was spongy and soft, like the swamp after a light rain. Water pooled and ran past them in tiny streams, and the going was slow. There were no people, and very little wildlife. The plants were unfamiliar and small, and seemed to be growing around them, making backtracking impossible. Now that they were closer, the size of the tree wasn’t the only strangeness about it. Yggdrasil’s roots were of made of wood but it was pitted, dry, and cracked. The knots and the gaps leaked thin trails of smoke. There were embers beneath the bark, slowly and endlessly charring the dry leaves and twigs that seemed to be growing even as they burned. Smoke swirled up from the tree’s embers, surrounding her. The smell of firewood and ashes was strangely comforting, as if it was offering her protection against the eyes that lurked in the darkness beyond. The air around her sang with mystery, inviting her to take a step forward and explore, but she knew better than that. No one who went into the night ever came back. A bolt from the sky struck a smaller nearby tree, setting it ablaze. Suddenly everything was illuminated. Everyone else ran from the fire, but she found herself approaching it and grasping a burning branch. I can use this. She alone was not afraid. It was the beginning of everything. Ada gasped. “Did you see that?” she asked, glancing at young Ruby. Ruby nodded, eyes wide. “What was it?” “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” And she reached out to grasp the tree’s roots. Painful experimentation came first. Learning how to make more fire once the tree’s branches burnt out was the key. For days it seemed like every attempt was doomed to failure, until rubbing two sticks together ignited a spark. The prying eyes were soon nowhere to be found - though humanity attracted them, fire drove them away, and with them gone, the sun was no longer Ada’s master. When she needed to, she could work well into the night, knowing that the dark would respect her efforts and not interfere with them, and when she shared her secrets with the others, people finally stopped disappearing. Fire was wild and it was dangerous, but it was also a loyal friend. They learned ways to coax it out without first fighting a battle with it - first with sticks, then stones that would more easily release friendly sparks out. Fire kept them warm and provided light, and, as Ada quickly realized, it meant they could cook their food without waiting for brush fires. “Fire.” There was no doubt in Ada’s voice. “The time mankind learned to control fire. It was so long ago...hundreds of thousands of years.” Her eyes fixated on the tree once more. “I think it’s trying to tell us something. No, not tell us. Share.” “It’s a living history,” Isabel said quietly. “The Summer Fae have protected it since man first gave meaning to time, and brought us out of the long dreaming. Look-” She pointed ahead, where the dry roots joined a trunk that appeared to be petrified. Flame still danced in the bark, hotter than before, but more controlled. “The age of stone.” Fascinated, Ada approached the trunk, gesturing the others to come closer. For a moment, her mission was forgotten. Something so ancient and precious was a once in a lifetime experience. If she passed it over in her urgency to find the others, she’d be doing a disservice to the work of millennia, exactly the kind of history they were fighting to preserve. “It sure ain’t something you see everyday,” Junior said, with enough wonder in his gruff voice that it was clear he’d seen the visions too. “But… why’s it here, instead of the Nevernever?” Rubeansidhe flicked her wings. “I will go and see.” “Be careful,” Isabel took her hands and squeezed. “If all of Faerie is at the stone table...” “I will,” she squeezed back and let go, jumping into the air in the same motion. Up and up she flew, until the stone bark gave way to rough blackened metal, and then she was between the branches and lost to sight. Ada didn’t wait for her to come back. Her hand trailed the tree’s bark as she followed the roots back their origin. They twisted and turned, but their path was clear. Soon, she spied a large, circular opening, blocked by gates of sickly, pale white stone. They looked finely cut, in stark contrast with the roughly hewn stone of the branches, and covered in greek characters that shone with familiar yellow-green light. Anywhere else, they would’ve seemed awe-inspiring, but here they just looked out of place, a hasty, unwelcome addition to the natural beauty of the World Tree. “Narcissus...” she whispered. “He did this, didn’t he?” she asked. She wasn’t sure if the tree could hear her or not, but something told her it would listen. Isabel let out a furious hiss when she saw it, and Junior had to put his hand on her shoulder. “No one else would be so tacky,” she confirmed. “So he’s been inside it?” Ruby asked nervously. “But… why? It’s so big, even if he wanted to use time magic to undo the coup against him that Rubeansidhe told us about, he wouldn’t need all this to do it. The whole city’s gone, it’s like if you tried to warm your house with a forest fire and burned it all up.” Junior nodded. “This ain’t about some fae lords scrappin’ over territory. No way, no how.” “Yeah. There’s more to it than that.” Ada’s hand squeezed the bark. “This thing...it’s our shared history. If he wants to change something here, it means changing all of history’s course. I don’t think he came up with this plan on his own. Narcissus is too self-absorbed for something like this.” “But who else could’ve?” Isabel asked, her eyes raising to look for her daughter. “I don’t know,” Ada’s brow furrowed into a frown. “There’s no one that comes to mind. We’re missing pieces.” “Maybe we’ll find them inside,” Junior said, bending over to examine the door. Before anyone could move to help him, Isabel let out a gasp and cried out her husband’s name. He snapped upright, and everyone looked up. Rubeansidhe was falling. Her wings were limp, eyes closed. Junior raised both hands and yelled a command. Yellow light shone in a halo around the faerie as she slowed, but she was still coming down much too fast to land safely. Moving quickly, Isabel threw a silver thread each to Ada and Ruby, and another, and another, until a rough spider’s web was spun between them, then she dashed up the side of the tree, pulling it taut. “Hold on tight!” Rubeansidhe landed in the net, her weight bowing it towards the ground and nearly knocking the three women off their feet, but it held, and then she was down and safe. The moment she landed, Ada rushed to her side, while something hot and angry and violent surged upwards within her chest. If anybody hurt Ruby, I’m gonna make them pay for this. Slowly. It was a tempting fantasy, but she fought back against it. Thoughts of revenge later. Make sure Ruby wasn’t endangered by her injuries first. It didn’t look good - her right hand was badly burned, and most of her chest was horribly scalded as well. Now that she was kneeling down beside her, she could hear an awful sizzling sound, and the smell of cooked meat. The sound was coming from a spot almost right above her heart - there, Ada could barely see a metallic splinter. “This tree’s branches are made of cold iron,” she said, loud enough to startle the others. “It’ll burn a fairy the same way any other hunk of iron will, right?” “Yes,” Isabel said quietly, kneeling down and taking Rubeansidhe’s head into her lap. “Oh, my child… the pain must have knocked her out.” She looked up at Ada, unable to touch the bane herself. “Can you do anything for her?” “I...” she began, but stopped. “I don’t know. I don’t have magic.” For the first time, she felt a pang of loss. It would’ve been so easy to flush the splinter out of Ruby’s system and soothe her pain, but now, that wasn’t an option. Maybe it never would be again. “I think I can take out that splinter though. Hold her down for me.” Working with cooked human (or in this case, fairy) flesh was revolting. Ada was thankful she had firsthand personal experience with it to help her keep her hand steady. Last time she’d been involved in something like this, it had hurt like hell - but then, Ruby had helped take away her pain. Now, when her friend truly needed her, she couldn’t do the same. Even extracting the splinter didn’t wash away the guilt. She had to make it up to Ruby, somehow, but without magic, all she could do was what anyone else could’ve done. For the first time in a very long time, Ada felt powerless. The moment the iron sliver was out, Ruby took a long sobbing gasp and her eyes flew open. She didn’t know where she was at first and kicked out, but Isabel held her until she calmed down. “The tree!” she cried, and then words failed her as she tried to think how to describe what she’d seen. “Its rotting!” “And you’re halfway to extra crispy,“ Ada said, squeezing her arm tightly. She didn’t dare do more and risk touching the burns. “Take it easy for a second. Breathe deep. Anything hurt besides the burns?” Confusion flashed across Rubeansidhe’s face until she looked down at herself. “Oh. No… no I don’t think so. I must have brushed against a branch.” She sat up, wincing in pain. “I’ll be alright.” The moment she started to rise, Ada shoved her back down - gently, but firmly. “Not if you push yourself like that.” Somehow, she managed a strained smile. “Trust me, I know what walking around dragging a major injury does to you. What did you mean about the tree rotting?” Rubeansidhe frowned, unable to put such horror into words. “Let me show you,” she said instead. Her wings flicked once, shedding dust. But this time it didn’t make anyone sleepy, it just caused their thoughts to wander into a waking dream... The branches of the tree were a tangled maze, twisting around and within each other like a old, untended briar patch. Wood and stone continued to run through the bark in ever more refined and beautiful shapes. Power too. Great gouts of steam burst forth unexpectedly from steel maws in the bark, and further up, electricity leapt between great glass pylons, crackling blue and purple. Plastics began to show in the bark, cloudy or clear at first, then splitting into smooth blacks and whites. The central trunk of the tree was a singular stalk, and while there were myriad branches that curled around it, some closer and some jutting out into the darkness, they were all clearly offshoots. But here, near the crown, the trunk had split. It was obvious it hadn’t grown that way but been struck, as though by lightning, or a heavy axe. Circuit boards and vacuum tubes just underneath the bark were exposed and sparking. A hundred colors of LED flashed warning red as fans stuttered and wires hung loose. It was still attached, but barely, and the cords that held it together were stretched to the breaking point. Grafted into its true position was a new trunk. It had enough of the same materials and power sources that it didn’t look wholly out of place, but it didn’t fit, like a puzzle piece turned the wrong way in the right spot. It had been lashed to the wound by vine and leaf, a veritable jungle of foreign flora that called out with all the power of Summer. But it did not match what had come before, and the graft was failing. Not just the graft, but the false trunk itself was in danger of coming apart. Pieces of it floated in the air, only tethered by a vine or a wire. There were gaps in the bark that let you see through to the other side. It was coming apart at the seams. Rubeansidhe beat her wings and the dust blew away, ending the shared daydream. Her shoulders slumped. “The great tree has been sundered,” she said. “This is beyond us, Ada. Mother, Father… I don’t know what to do...” Ada looked up into the maze of branches above them. A place of beauty and memory, corrupted by an addition that made a mockery of mankind’s progress and its place in the world… “We’ve got to get in,” she said, shooting the others a look. “Find a way past those doors. Ruby, did you see any other entrances on the way up?” “Doors? No, nothing like that.” She struggled to stand. Ada frowned and sighed. “You’re so stubborn.” Giving up, she helped Ruby to get back on her feet. When she wobbled and threatened to fall down again, Ada was there for her to hold on to. “There’s gotta be something...are there any stories about people entering the World Tree?” she asked out loud, hoping there’d be an answer. “It might be simpler than that,” Junior said, returning to the marbled entrance once he was assured Rubeansidhe would recover. “These ain’t a part of it, after all. Whatever’s holding them here is Narcissus’ work, not the work of the aeons. A little easier to manage, I reckon.” “Yeah, but still out of our reach. Time magic doesn’t blow things up, does it? And I never heard about a banshee making things explode with her wails either.” “Time magic can’t affect it at all,” Junior said, pointing to the glowing glyphs. “I couldn’t make it go boom no, but I could have aged it to dust or something like it, but it’s been guarded against just that.” “We cannot break it by force,” Isabel confirmed, and Rubeansidhe nodded. “So there’s no other way in, but we can’t just force them open. There’s gotta be something, though...there’s no way Narcissus could make an impenetrable barrier. I don’t think he expected to need it when I talked to him.” The doors didn’t look totally immovable or indestructible, but it was a safe bet that the temporal energy wards would take care of that. The problem isn’t that there’s no way we can get around them. We just don’t have the resources or the time. Narcissus had enough stolen power to work with to make doors that would stand up against intrusion. If only they- Ada froze. There was no smoke here, but she still saw the tree’s vision once again through her mind’s eye. A lightning bolt, fire, then herself, grasping a burning branch. “The tree,” she whispered. “The tree’s going to help us out!” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. Of course! It was so simple! “We need to find a way to talk to it and ask it for a bit of its power. If we can persuade it we’re here to kick Narcissus out, I bet it’ll help us get through!” “Is it something we can talk to?” Young Ruby piped up. “Even if we can, would it notice us any more than we’d notice an ant?” “It’s already noticed us crawling on it,” Junior said. “Unless it hands out visions like that to anyone that’s nearby.” Isabel and Rubeansidhe shared a look, and Isabel spoke. “We did not see the vision.” “Which means it only talks to humans. Which means it did try to reach out to us.” Ada looked around. “How can we reach it though? I don’t think it’s as simple as asking for an audience nicely.” “Wait,” young Ruby said. “If the vision was the tree trying to talk to us, can we use that to talk to it instead?” “No, I don’t think so. Seeing what the tree wants to show us means losing control. We can’t reach it that way.” She pursed her lips, thoughtfully. “There’s gotta be something...” Just then, the branches above them creaked ominously. The graft Ruby’d talked about wouldn’t hold on much longer. The tree needed their help just as much as they needed its. But what could they offer? The smell of flowers and greenery stirred up Ada’s memory. Suddenly, she heard her great grandmother’s voice once again. It’s the magic, not the blood itself that feeds the bush. All blood carries magic. “Thank you, grandmother,” Ada whispered, as she took the knife and case out of her pocket. They’d only spend a short while together, but she’d still managed to teach her well. She rested the obsidian edge against her wrist as she approached the root, and as soon as she was close enough, slashed it open. Blood bubbled up from the wound and trickled down the sides, forming a perfect circle, and then began to fall down onto the embers in a steady trickle. It hissed against the coals, filling her nose with a coppery scent, and for a moment, Ada saw an unbroken line of red connecting her to the roots. All she had to do was ask before letting go. “Help us,” she whispered. “Help us get inside so we can help you heal.” ...heal? The word was faint, like a whisper in her own voice. No vision accompanied it. “Yeah. We want to help, but we can’t get through Narcissus’ doors. We need you. Can you hear me?” ...can you hear me? “I hear you. How do we get inside?” “Who are you talking to?” Young Ruby asked, worried. “I think it’s the tree, but I don’t know. I’m getting really strange answers here.” “Strange how? More visions? I don’t see anything.” Ada shook her head. “No, it’s not like that. It’s bouncing my own words back at me, but it’s not exactly the same. And it’s quiet. Very quiet.” Very quiet. The emphasis was different than Ada had used, even if the words were the same. It spoke of exhaustion and loneliness. “It’s going to be OK. We’re here now,” Ada said, reassuringly. “We just need a way in. Can you open the doors?” ...the doors? Open… the doors. Open the doors. Openthedoors. OPENtheDOORS. OPENTHEDOORS. Every repetition was accompanied by a dull boom from behind the marble doors. “The heck’s goin’ on here?” Junior said, jumping back from the doors, shaking embers out of his hair. Ashes fell on all of them, dusting them in a coat of dull grey. “It’s trying to open the doors! See if there’s anything you can do to help out on this end, I can’t move without losing this connection!” she called out, frowning. The tree sounded desperate, but why? “What’s going on? Are you trapped?” But that didn’t make sense. There wasn’t a force on earth that could hold the tree down, it was just too big. Trapped! Trapped!!!!! Furious, desperate, the doors boomed again. Isabel threaded the handle with silk to make a rope and the whole Lytle family lined up and started pulling. “Pull with the sound!” Junior ordered. “One and two and PULL!” “Where are you? I know it’s inside, but do we need to go up, or down?” Ada spoke quickly. The wound was starting to close already, and the connection would soon be over unless the decided to slash her other wrist open. “One and two and PULL!” Junior cried again. The door burst off its hinges, and everyone fell over. ...down. the voice said, sounding suddenly distant and small again. Spent. ...down. ...down down down. “Woo!” Young Ruby yelled. “Ada, we did it!” “Stay alive,” Ada whispered. “I’m coming.” The wound finished closing, and the connection vanished into thin air. Turning around, Ada raised the knife up into the air. “That’s what I like to hear. Everyone ready? Last thing I heard from the tree is we got to go down. It’s waiting for us there.”
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Jun 16, 2018 06:24
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Guided Scene: Root of the Tree Far was a relative concept when you were traveling through the heart of the tree of time itself. Junior called for rest pauses several times during their descent, but they had no food or water with them to ease the journey. “At least we’re not likely to get sleepy after a hundred year’s nap,” Young Ruby said with a smile, but as they continued with no end to the tunnel, and no knowledge of where an end might be, it was hard to stay positive. The only indication they were even getting anywhere at all was that cave paintings themselves seemed to become more crude as they went, the animals becoming less recognizable and the figures of people turning into mere sticks. There were no colors anymore, just black charcoal lines, and eventually even those stopped showing up and the walls were blank. The fires in the walls grew dimmer and the weight of all that history seemed to be pressing down on the travelers. But the silver runes glowed brighter the further they went, so there was no shortage of light. “Are we there yet?” Young Ruby asked, shoulders slumped. “Soon,” Rubeansidhe said. “I can feel it... someone is sleeping ahead of us. Dreaming, I think, and it’s very strong.” “Not the kind of place I’d pick for a nap,” Ada said, glancing at the forebodingly bare walls. “How long do you think she’s been here?” “No longer than Narcissus himself, I would think,” Isabel said. “Which is still over a century if we count from when he arrived in New Orleans.” “Guess you can get used to everything when you’ve got that much time to burn. But she can’t be guiding us while asleep, can she?” “Why not?” Rubeansidhe asked. “Dreams can’t reach out into the real world. Not easily, anyway.” Her mind went back to the closet portal she’d tried out with Rick once upon a time. It had led them through her memories...but only with effort, and special circumstances had been involved. “And I never heard a version of the myth of Narcissus where Echo was linked to dreaming. It doesn’t make any sense for her to reach out to us this way.” “Then perhaps it isn’t Echo who dreams,” Isabel said. Ada shot her a look. That could only mean one thing. She didn’t say a word, but her right hand’s grip on the knife tightened. They turned a corner, and suddenly, there was no more tunnel. A marble gate, very similar to the one at the entrance, blocked their path. Unlike that one though, the runes were dark. Ada walked toward it slowly, and rested a hand against it, testing its resistance. Maybe the runes had been knocked out already. It didn’t just swing open, but there was no trap that she could feel. Just inert stone, wedged into place like the door of a tomb. The silver letters followed her hand, more of them than she’d collected originally. They glowed faintly, and as Ada drew her hand over the marble, they followed it. One slipped into a groove that was shaped like it and remained there as the others kept moving. “Everyone get ready,” Ada called out, taking a step back. “I think we’re about to meet our guide.”
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Jun 16, 2018 06:30
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Buying Time Scene: The Grove ((This is a Challenge! To start off, Ada rolls Athletics and Physique to reach and free Junior. Difficulty is 5 for both. Athletics: 4df+5 = (+-b-)+5 = 4 Physique: 4df+5 = (+bb-)+5 = 5 Using Junior’s HC, ‘Head of Clan Lytle’, to boost that first one to a full success. Second is a tie, so Ada takes a minor cost of “To the Bone”)) Junior clutched at the grass but it slipped through his fingers, as much a part of Narcissus’ cavern as the root that was dragging him swiftly towards the oak tree. “I just got out of a tree, you ugly git, I ain’t goin’ back in one that quick!” Reaching for his power he yelled a word in Seminole and everything… slowed… down… It was enough for Ada to catch up with him. As she got closer, however, her movements grew more gradual, and stiffer. Slowly, she reached forward to grasp the root with one hand, and moved to saw the end off with the knife. It squirmed and twisted in her grasp, and while she managed to hack it off, she caught the flesh of her hand with her own knife. She inhaled sharply as it easily slid down to the bone, sending a jolt of pain through her body that seemed to extend for several minutes. Blood trickled out lazily from her fingers, coating the root stump. Pulling the knife back, she threw away the end and pulled Junior back, away from Narcissus’ grasp. Time returned to normal speed abruptly as he sat up and helped Ada to her feet. “We’ve got to break this circle,” he said, stomping the grass with one boot. “It’s feeding all the magic from the trees to him and-” he paused to pull her out of the way of another questing root. They were crawling all over the ground now, looking for ankles. He pointed at a few of the closer ones and barked a few more unfamiliar words. They shivered and slowed down enough to get away from. “Don’t stand still, lass, come on!” He didn’t have to tell her twice. After taking a moment to make sure Junior would be alright, Ada turned around and sprinted towards Ruby. I’m not losing anyone. Not here, not now! ((Now to free Ruby. Since Ada is banged up, this isn’t solved by Physique. Instead, this calls for a Notice roll! Notice: 4df+4 = (-b-+)+4 = 3 Dicebotttttttt  Ada invokes Soul Sisters, because this is for someone she’s very close to, and pushes it up to a tie and a success at a minor cost.)) Ruby didn’t have a trick up her sleeve the way her father did, but Rubeansidhe was much faster in flight than Ada was running and she caught up to herself in a few seconds. Isabel was there nearly as quickly, having been closer to where Ruby started than anyone else. She threw a net of webbing over her daughter and held it while Rubeansidhe grabbed the root and shrieked at it. It withered and died in an instant. But while they were dealing with that, Echo’s prison was glowing brighter and brighter, pulsing with light. Narcissus was whispering to her, holding her close. The trees bent farther, the grass rustled as the roots spread quickly. Ada saw it when the first dreamer stood up and walked forwards, jerking and stumbling like a zombie, no- a puppet. It was the man with the moustache she’d seen earlier, still asleep, but being manipulated by the roots that ran through his body. “Get them!” yelled Narcissus. “Get them!” (get them, get them, get them,) Echo repeated. Ada struck first. Lowering her head, she rammed into the man with the moustache, shoulder first, pushing him back. She could see the other dreamers starting to rise already. They needed an answer, fast. “Isabel!” She called out. “We need a big web to catch these flies with! Junior, can you break the circle and pull the plug?” “With my bare hands?” “No, with magic! It’s draining their power to fuel itself, isn’t it? Make it give it back!” He turned his head and scowled at the olive tree. “Alright, but you’d best put in a good word with your beau when I go breakin’ all the Laws to save the dang world.” “I’m sure they’ll make an exception, dear,” Isabel said, piling silk to one side. Young Ruby had a hand on her shoulder, speeding her mother’s work along, and Isabel’s fingers were a blur of motion. “Rubeansidhe,” Ada asked, glancing over her shoulder. They were almost out of time. “Those roots died earlier when you screamed at them. Can you make them freeze up instead?” “To what purpose?” Rubeansidhe asked. “There’s too many of them to fight off. But if we can split them up and stick them in Isabel’s webbing…” she said, grinning. Her hand ached, they were on a deadline and the numbers were stacked against them, but she wasn’t afraid. This kind of life and death struggle was what it meant to be alive. Rubeansidhe nodded. “I’ll protect us. Focus on helping Mother.” “Don’t worry. I’m not letting even one of them through.” They were almost upon them. Without another word, Ada turned towards the nearest sleeper and charged him. He tried to grab her, but she slipped past him and kicked him in the back - not to hurt him, but to make him fall down. She didn’t need to wound these people. All she had to do was buy time. ((Next roll’s gonna be a toughie, so Ada rolls to CA with Athletics first. 4dF+5 = (-b++)+5 = 6 That’s enough to create an Aspect successfully - Unbalanced.)) It was almost like a dance. Take a step forward, get the sleepers’ attention, move to the side, duck to avoid a gnarled hand, move forward, jump to get out of a root’s reach, turn around, move back...Ada’s blood pumped, the sound of her heartbeat filling her ears. She didn’t have to glance back to see the web was ready. She just knew that it was, maybe out of instinct or a glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye. The trap was ready. All it needed was for her to lead the dreamers to it. Reaching forward, she grasped the nearest one by the lapels and waited a moment. She responded in kind, throwing herself into an attack, but then Ada spun around, grabbed her wrist, and sent her tumbling, right into the web. She didn’t look to confirm she’d made it there - too many of Narcissus pawns still bearing down on her for that. ((Alright, let’s do this. Ada rolls Physique to Overcome this obstacle. Diff is still 5. 4dF+5 = (b+b-)+5 = 5 Tie, so invoking Unbalanced for a +2 makes it a clean win!)) The web worked perfectly. Isabel and her daughters were nimble with the webs and Narcissus was a blind puppetmaster, working mostly by feel. It only took a few moments for the banshees to collect the dreamers, as though they were goldfish in a pet store tank. “I will hold onto them so he can’t use them for more mischief. Go!” Isabel said. Keeping an eye out for any more surprises, Ada approached the crystal and the tree once again. “Junior!” she called out. “How’s that circle coming?” Wood snapped and popped and Narcissus screamed. “Got one! Keep her going!” he hollered back. “You’re all mad!” Narci yelled, as another wave of roots chased after them. “I can fix this! I can fix all of it! Yggdrasil will be healed if you just- stay- still!!!” “Fix this? Your stumbling around’s nearly torn history to pieces! It’s over, Narcissus! Time’s up!” A gust of wind answered her, and then another, stronger one. The trees groaned in the growing gale, as miniature whirlwinds began to tear through the glade one after another, coming from the center. Crack-pop-screech! “Two down!” yelled Junior. Almost there. All that was needed was a bit more time. Or maybe...all they needed was for the time Narcissus had wasted to finally catch up to him. Gripping the knife tightly, Ada picked up the pace until she was running as fast as she could manage. Then, she uttered words she knew Narcissus would be unable to ignore. “I promised the Old Man of the Lake a blood tithe to get here, Narcissus! All those things you stole and broke are about to come due!” ((Ada’s using every last trick she has to keep Narcissus’ attention on her. This is a Provoke attempt! Result is (--bb)+5, or 3, but that makes it anyway because boy is Narci scared of what’s coming to him. Adding +2 from Life is a Fairy Tale makes this a Success With Style! Ada’s In His Head now.)) She’d struck a nerve, it was obvious from how the tornadoes started to chase her directly, how every blade of grass, every tree root, and every Dreamer trapped in Isabel’s web reached for her. “You are his agent? YOU?!” he shrieked. In that moment, surrounded by death on all sides, trapped in the middle of a possessed grove, Ada couldn’t help but grin. This was the man that had sought to control time - a man she’d had wrapped around her little finger since the time they’d first met. “What?!” she called out, as she circled around the grove, coming closer and closer to the crystal, taking her time to enjoy the moment before the truth was revealed. “You haven’t got it yet? It’s so obvious!” Mockery was clear in her voice as she stared down the face in the tree and danced past his attempts to catch her, always out of reach. Pop-crack-screech! “That’s three! One more should do it!” There was no way to outrun the winds forever. It had been a long night, and she was slowing down. She started taking sharper, riskier turns, breaking past the winds, feeling the dirt slam into her like fists, the loose bits of rock and wood draw sharp cuts all over her body. But they were almost there...almost there… ((Final roll time. Out of tricks, Ada has nothing but Physique to withstand as much of the damage as she can. She gets (b++-)+5 = 6, against a difficult of 7. It’s not enough...)) “Ada!” Rubeansidhe shouted, up above. “Get down! NOW!” It was stupid to stop now, with a whirlwind hot on her heels, but Ada didn’t think twice. She threw herself into a side roll and let her momentum carry her forward a few steps more. Large, jagged roots burst out of the ground like spears, kissing her cheek and missing by an inch. Like so many times before, Ruby had come through for her when it counted. Where would I be without you, Ruby? Grabbing a pair of roots and pushing them aside, Ada dived through the gap and prepared to keep running. ((...Which is why Ada invokes Ruby’s “Youngest Jewel of Summer to turn that into an 8 and succeed. They’ve made it this far together. Together, they can make it further still.)) “THERE!” Junior called out, and the air in the grove turned hot. Golden light flared from four of the twelve trees, the tallest of them all, one at each compass point, and they started to shrink. Junior’s spell was reversing time. The magic that had been stolen to power the crystal was siphoned back, through the roots, through the tree, and returned to the sleepers caught in Isabel’s net. “NOOOOOO!” Narcissus howled. The olive tree’s branches whipped in the air. “Stop! You’re ruining everything!” “Everything!” (thing thing thing!) Echo sobbed. The shadow inside the crystal was much closer, much larger, and beating her fists on the wall - and Ada ran towards it, matching hands with her. “Work with me,” she said. “It’s time we broke through the looking glass.” Her other hand curled up into a fist and slammed against the crystal, testing its strength. A chip flaked free, but Ada’s hand stung with the impact. The trapped nymph, true to her name and nature, struck the same spot from the inside. It wasn’t unbreakable, but their bones would give long before the crystal did. But there was something stronger than bone she could use. Grabbing the knife on her belt, Ada raised it up to the level of her face so Echo could see. “Let’s cut our way through,” she said, and stabbed the crystal, as hard as she could. Echo raised a shadow knife in the same shape and nodded. The crystal dimmed further as the trees sapped it, and the girls chipped away at it. The face on the olive tree pleaded and cajoled, threatened and wept, but to no avail. Tink-Tink-Tink-CRACK! The crack spread like an egg, hit against a counter. Ruby was there, and Rubeansidhe, pulling from either side to separate it as a milky, sweet scented liquid poured out, along with the body of a woman. She was tall and willowy, with pale skin and deep black hair long enough to wrap around her entire body, shielding her nakedness. The olive tree split in two when the crystal egg did, revealing the still form of the faerie lord, roots embedded in his flesh as if he too were one of the dreamers. He did not stir.
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Jun 16, 2018 06:40
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Branching Paths Scene: The World Tree ON scene: Elbridge, Rupert, Jenny, Hugues, Marcine, Nicky, Murray, Topaz, Zophiel Nine went into the World Tree. They found themselves in an oval antechamber, dimly lit by a blue flicker coming in from a set of stairs that led up to a round doorway on the far side. “It’s metal,” Nicky said, touching the wall. “No, metal and plastic. And wood, and glass, and stone…” He held up his hand and called a gentle blue light to it. “Oh!” The floor was a mosaic of different materials, both glittering and dull, all linked together in a beautiful pattern that suggested tree bark. It sloped up into the wall and wrapped all the way around the ceiling, only a few feet over their heads. “Makes you wish you’d brought a camera along,” said Rupert, conjuring his own light as he looked down at the mosaic. Topaz jumped onto Marcine’s shoulder, curled around her neck, and shuddered. “There’s so much iron!” “You’ll be easier to carry, at least,” Marcine grunted as she settled Jenny onto the floor. The older girl stirred and opened her eyes slowly. “Did we make it?” she asked groggily. Marcine glanced from her to Zophiel. “More or less.” Elbridge took a listing step to one side, nearly dropping Zophiel; at the last second, he slouched against the wall to support them both. Cold. He felt cold all of a sudden, and curiously-faint of breath. Cold and numb...had the air grown that thin from the breach? It had been so hot when the asteroid fragments struck. How could he feel so cold already? Marcine slid Topaz onto Jenny’s lap and moved to El’s side, worriedly resting a hand each on his shoulder and Zophiel’s. “We should all sit down for a minute. Let me see if I can help.” “He’s gone cold,” Zophiel said, putting a hand to El’s forehead. “Is this shock?” “Maybe.” Or a heart attack. She caught his arm to support him. “What are you feeling?” Saying that reminded her of when she’d asked Rick something similar, and when she took El’s wrist to check his pulse, the last strains of The Black-Leg Miner floated into her head. She shook her head slightly to put all of it out of mind. Must be more tired than she thought. “I’m fine, fine, just...a bit winded.” Elbridge took a deep breath and looked at Marcine with his mismatched spectacles, stopping just short of direct eye contact. “It’s been a long week, hasn’t it?” He felt at his wounded leg. The slice from Rick’s sword had mostly closed, leaving only a crust of dried blood and a livid bruise under the bandages, but the leg felt a little weak nonetheless, as if the ground had gone out from under him. “Yeah…” His pulse was fast, but so was hers, and it didn’t feel abnormal. “You sure? You should still rest, both of you.” Thunder cracked, echoing through the tunnel. A moment later, the entire branch groaned ominously and the slope of the floor increased a few degrees. Marcine caught hold of them both so they wouldn’t lose their balance until the floor stopped moving. “What the gently caress now?” she groaned. Rupert slid forwards more than a few inches before he could plant himself steady again, narrowly avoiding a collision with Nicky. Looking up the stairway, he answered, “Something like that can't be heralding anything good. We need to keep moving, even if it’s at a limp.” “No rest for the wicked,” Jenny said, standing. Topaz perched on her shoulder. “Guess we’d better go take a look.” Murray had already slunk up the stairs and was sitting with his back to them, football shaped head tilted too far to one side as the light flickered over him. “Do you think there has ever been a demon here?” he asked, as Hugues joined him. “Or am I the very first?” “Just remember our deal,” Hugues said. “Oh, I do, little master. I do…” The door was a knot in the branch. Once beyond it, they stood on Yggdrasil herself, the World Tree, the great history-keeper. This particular branch was as wide as a 4-lane highway. Ahead of them, the trunk continued on for miles, for they were standing on the false branch and “straight” was the same as “down” would have been, from a normal perspective. But the tree had a gravity all its own, as Murray proved by running entirely around the branch, his orientation changing as he did so. “You can’t fall off!” he shouted at this new discovery. Thunder boomed again, and a wind picked up, rustling the leaves. Lightning leapt between poles that stuck out of the tree at irregular intervals. Fires burned here and there, plumes of smoke blown away by the wind. The great tree smelled more of gasoline and coal than anything natural. Marcine turned in a circle, taking in the sight. It was bizarre. Impossible, and disorienting. She closed her eyes to center herself from a moment of vertigo. When she opened them, the first thing she noticed was Rupert’s bandaged arm. She looked over the others: Hugues with his concussion. Jenny, recovering from straining her magic. Elbridge possibly just having suffered a heart attack. Zophiel barely standing upright. They had no idea what was ahead, and she was in the best shape of any of them. She rested her hands over her gun grips, shifted her hunting knife, and took a deep breath that nearly made her gag on a whiff of gas station stench. “Is it supposed to be like this?” “You get places with messed up gravity sometimes in the Nevernever, it’s usually harmless,” explained Rupert, peering downtrunk and sniffing the air, “I somewhat doubt it’s supposed to be on fire, though. That usually happens after we turn up.” She gave him a flat look. “Hrm.” Elbridge sat down on a patch of ‘bark’ that resembled corrugated metal. “I think we could use some perspective.” He retrieved the silver mirror he’d taken from Winter’s armoury. It was still intact, although it wouldn’t do to keep putting it at risk like this. Not once they were finished. He swabbed the glass clean and cleared his throat. ”Twinkle, twinkle, not-quite-stars, How we wonder what you are So I cast my gaze afar To view all time, from wheel to car.” “Help, o mirror, us to see A broader view of history Out of time and memory Miss not the forest for this tree” The mirror’s image came into focus. It had found a cluster of glass and silicate leaves far below them, on a branch that must have been another major split hundreds of years ago. Elbridge could see most of the tree from here. It extended up and up, showing the advance of technology in its very bark, until it reached an ugly scar. The false branch had split the true trunk like an axe, embedding itself as a wedge in between the two halves. Sickly yellow time-light leaked from the scar, and the graft itself seemed to be rotting instead of taking hold. Vines, branches, and leaves secured it in place, Summer’s power in full bloom. “I believe we’ve found our destination,” he told the others. “From the topography of the surface where we’re standing, we should be…” He pointed to a spot along the spliced branch, relatively-close to the wound. “Right here. We can make it if we… oh?” He looked more-closely at the damage to the tree. It wasn’t just the jagged, oozing split where the graft had been made. There was other damage - winding, half-pipe grooves that tangled and wound their way outward from the wound, scouring the bark and the tree underneath it. The tracks reminded him of the apple trees from his youth in Britain, when blight struck and the fruit was infested by - “...worms.” Elbridge cleared his throat to make sure the others were paying close attention. “The graft is partially worm-eaten.” “We need to pull the old trunk back together,” Nicky said, pointing at the split halves. “And get this timeline out of the way. The connection is weakened due to that… that worm, anyways but…” He gulped. “How do we do that without dropping this whole branch into the abyss?” “Given the unique gravity properties of the tree, I don’t think it would fall - I think it’d crash straight into the tree. So we need to slow that impact down and then move the branch,” replied Rupert, scratching his chin in thought, “If we reduce the branch to a more manageable weight, we can swing it around to the side and rely on the gravity to stop it from falling. As we walk, I can lay down a series of runic markers to work as a channel and with those, I ought to be able to extend my semi-weightlessness spell along the length of the branch, at least briefly.” “Give each branch its own, subjective ‘down’,” Elbridge said, nodding, “then plant the seed and induce it to germinate. Ms. Sterling, I do believe that we’ll need your help to make that happen - this is Summer magic, and our expertise falls decidedly on the colder side of things.” “Okay,” Marcine said, but her eyes were fixed on the worm trails.
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Jul 17, 2018 00:58
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What Nicky Wants Scene: Yggdrasil “I suppose this is where we say goodbye then,” Nicky said, forlornly looking at the van as everyone else piled in. “If that’s what you want,” said Rupert, glancing around the parking lot, “Can't see any sign of vampires coming to eat us, so you might be safe here.” “Ah, well… I’m sure I can manage for a few minutes, until things go back to normal. But…” “But you’re wondering what it'd be like to explore a whole new timeline, right?” asked Rupert. Nicky shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Would that be alright? I’ve done what I needed to… Found Minsk, that is. Got her home. She won’t exactly… miss me.” He looked at Elbridge out of the corner of his eye. “Wizard Cantor,” Elbridge said levelly. “Although the White Council is a global institution, a key qualification for the title of ‘Wizard’ is that you must be able to make your own decisions. There are not enough Wardens to watch over the entire Council, and there are not enough Senior Councilors to offer guidance for every problem. We must use our own judgement, and stand by it.” Nicky nodded gravely. He looked over his shoulder, towards the park where the dead dragon’s corpse was visible, a horrendous lump reaching above the fence. The sounds of distant fighting were still audible, as the Outsiders made their last stand. He didn’t say a word as he walked to the van, opened the door, and climbed inside. “A word, wizard?” Murray asked Elbridge, once he was the only one left. “I suspect that I’m not going to like this,” Elbridge sighed. “Speak.” The little demon grinned at him. “I know how much you hate deals, but I have a gift. One you might find interesting...” He retched twice and spat out a short steel blade. There were brown stains on it. “How thoughtful,” Elbridge said. “Were dead mice and songbirds becoming passé?” “Do you really have time for jokes?” He raised one gooey eyebrow. “What is this?” Elbridge asked, point-blank. “The knife the Warden used in his duel with the vampire lord. Blood of both victor and victim… though who was who, I dare not judge.” Murray put a paw on it and pushed it forwards. “Now what could you do with that, I’m very curious.” “Very many things that ought never to be done,” Elbridge said. He took the blade by the hilt and inspected it. One of the kitchen knives from the Shreveport shelter, if he wasn’t mistaken. Then he slid it into the sword’s sheath before the others returned with the vehicles. The cushy fabric of Marcine’s handiwork had plenty of room for a second blade. “Your generosity is noted.” “I thought to trade it for passage, but now that things are fixed, I’d rather stay. If you’d like to repay me, see about breaking my other self free from that boring man. Oh, and do tell him what you do with your gift.” The engines roared to life on the other side of the portal. Elbridge looked the little demon in the eye. “Goodbye, Murrazonoth,” he said, and that was all the time they had. “Farewell, wizard!” Murray said cheerfully, and then he dissolved into a puddle of purple goop and was gone.
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Jul 17, 2018 02:00
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Epilogue: Home Again What happened then was difficult to describe later even for those who directly witnessed it. Yggdrasil, the Tree of Time, vanished back into the NeverNever. The city of New Orleans reappeared in its place, as if it had never been gone. Outside the city, time hadn’t moved at all from the tree’s appearance to its disappearance. Inside the city, roughly three hours went by. This phenomenon was never adequately explained, no matter how many studies the government tried to do on it. Those that knew better, also knew better than to discuss it publicly. --- Jenny The car was packed, the furniture either sold off or on the truck, but she stood in the empty living room and looked out the back patio window at the sandbox where Hugues had first started her ‘training’ and sighed. New York was a long ways away. Closer to her family in Boston, sure, but it still meant leaving behind most of her friends, and the life she’d built here. Singh’s nephew had offered her a permanent job and a pathway to being a vet, even with her magic. Ever since the hexing started she’d been slowly giving up on that dream, and it was too good a deal to say no to. Plus, after everything that had happened, she felt like she owed herself a clean break. She locked the door behind her and dropped the keys in the mailbox at the real estate office. No more saving the world for her. No more losing friends. The sun was just coming up as she got on the highway. She put the city in her rearview mirror, turned on the radio, and started the long journey to the rest of her life. Hugues He didn’t tell anyone where he was going, but it was clear he wasn’t coming back. No reasons given, no note, no goodbye. Just an empty apartment and a flock of missing pixies. JR The sun was going down, moon and stars already showing in the evening sky. JR leaned back and gazed up at them, took a deep breath of air no man had ever breathed before, and smiled. Out here, he don’t have to think about nothing. The fire crackled at his feet, and the mammal-like-reptiles on a stick hanging over it were starting to smell almost done. For the first day or so he was furious, but for the next three weeks he was too busy to be anything but conscious or unconscious, and as he looked back at the cabin he’d built for himself he was more proud of it than anything else. There was a scar burned into the earth within earshot of him, circles and spirals and a bit of time magic, still crackling in the air. Ain’t no one come lookin for him yet though. Maybe they won’t. Maybe they can’t. Maybe he’ll do it himself, one of these days. In the meantime though… He reached up and patted his mount on the flank. “One more time around the cabin,” he said. “Then dinner.” The young Tyrannosaurus grumbled as he swung his leg over her back, but held still until he was up, and JR turned her head west to walk the perimeter. Just a man and his horse… riding into the sunset.
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Aug 15, 2018 01:26
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Warfront
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Aug 15, 2018 01:55
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And so ends Book 3. Major Milestone for everyone!  Oh... but what about... Epilogue: Good Morning, New Orleans Scene: Another World The fight in the park was brutal and short. Cut off from their multitude of reinforcements by Elbridge’s sacrifice, the Outsiders fled from the enraged faeries and wizards, but found there was nowhere to hide. The tide had turned, and the people of New Orleans, of every kind, were out hunting. Not long after that, there was a horrible earthquake. The ground shook, tilted, and split, and there was widespread flooding, but the buildings held, even as the world turned on its head. The people held on too, and in a few terrifying moments, all was still. Dawn broke over the city of New Orleans. At last, the long night was ended. ----- Leaning against a wall, Old Rupert watched the sun begin to rise, a clarion call of victory. The street around him was piled with the fallen bodies of the remaining Outsiders and their hideous servants. His wounds were many, and his tattered cloak was all but gone, only a stray bloodstained remnant still hanging on. Swinging his rifle down, it’s ammo long since spent, he used it as a crutch to limp down the sunlit street. Each step grew heavier and heavier, the long awaited sunrise unravelling the complex enchantments he had placed so that he could keep fighting. Reaching a stray chair propped against the wall, a single lonely remnant of a once bustling cafe, he sat, the rifle dropping out of numb fingers to the ground. Leaning back, Old Rupert sat and watched the sun finally rise over New Orleans. They had won, and that was all that mattered. ----- The cheer that went up from Maria and the others left behind at the El Gato Negro was pure joy. During the siege most of El’s friends had fallen back there, after the immediate horde in the park had been dealt with. “Operation BLUE SKY!” Drou yelled, waving his empty shotgun in the air like a flag while Mrs. Bellefonte popped the cork on a bottle of champagne that Maria had been hiding just in case. The bartender had also been stockpiling fireworks, and she started shooting them off from the roof of the bar. She wasn’t the only one, either. The whole city was celebrating. “No more resets?” Lucy said, tears in her eyes. “No more resets!” Ed yelled back, bouncing with excitement. He pulled his sister into a tight hug. “We made it, Lu. I told you we would.” “We did,” she said, looking up, where Elbridge had vanished into the darkness. “Thank you,” she whispered. Minsk smiled at the kids and then turned to the exhausted weather wizard. Seth was the only one who wasn’t celebrating. The tornado he’d sent straight through the Outsiders’ defensive line had been the turning point, and he’d saved countless lives, but from the looks of him, none of that mattered. She tossed him a set of car keys, which he caught after a slight fumble. “Blue prius in the back. Go after her, dummy.” “Yeah,” Seth said, grinning tiredly at her. “I think I will.” Once he was gone, she slumped in her chair and pulled a cigarette out of her front pocket. Dirty habit, but what did it matter? She took a deep puff and exhaled it out slowly. “Good luck to you, Stripe, wherever the hell you are.” --- As the party wound down and the Gato Negro exhausted its supplies of alcohol and incendiaries, Abel Drouillard found the festive spirit leaving him, replaced with something darker. Memories were starting to come back in disordered fragments. Names. Faces. People who were supposed to be here today, but weren’t. El was gone, but that one didn’t hurt so much. It had been war. Soldiers fought and soldiers died, and somewhere along the line, El had stopped fighting like he was going to make it. In the end, he went out with style, on his own terms. Not everyone who’d died had been so lucky. No. It was the others that got to Drou. Civilians. Friends. Family...he’d had a family, hadn’t he? If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he could see them. He could see the two-bedroom bungalow, and the patchy lawn, and the driveway that was always collapsing somewhere. Sometimes his cruiser was rolling down that driveway. Sometimes there was a little girl, running barefoot across the lawn to give him a hug as he stepped out of the car. Sometimes there was a woman on the porch, crossing her arms and pursing her lips at Drou for coming home late, again, and he wanted to tell her that work had been crazy, that she wouldn’t believe the things he’d seen, except that she really wouldn’t believe him because who could? They were there like...cobwebs in his brain. Like unfinished composites from the sketch artist. Not pictures, not yet, but they were getting there. The color of her eyes. The mud all over her bare feet. The crinkle of her hair. If he could just remember the rest, the sketches could be finished and he’d know who he was looking for. Or maybe he could check for an address. The house was still a little blurry in his mind, but he thought he could see a ‘5’ painted over the lintel. Address started with a 5, only left, what, 10,000 places to check in this zip code? His hand was wet, but he hadn’t spilled his drink. He hadn’t even touched his drink. Drou was crying, sitting in the booth at the back where he’d always sat with El before getting dragged into Some Bullshit, and he didn’t know why, because they’d won, hadn’t they? The sky was back! The sun was back! That whole loving nightmare was over! ...why couldn’t he remember their names? --- Bellworth followed her squad into the ruins of the New Orleans suburbs. Leading was out of the question, as long as she couldn’t speak. No one was fresh. After the angel was forced to abandon the gateway it had been up to the council to defend it, and they had done so at the cost of many lives. But that was over and done with. When the barrier finally shattered with the first rays of dawn, it revealed streets littered with corpse after nonsensical corpse. Outsiders, forced into reality, and poisoned by it. There would be stragglers to deal with still, creatures strong enough to hold together even in a world where physics mattered, but relief took priority. After six long years, help had finally come. She wondered how many people had survived, and if Hadley was among them. Had the strangers from another world gone home? Where was everyone? The suburbs were a no-mans land, empty of life. At some point she realized she could hear music, and then cheers. Hundreds, thousands of people, standing on their porches and front lawns, weeping at the sight of the sun. They greeted the wizards, and the trucks full of supplies they’d brought with them, with all the joy and hunger of a city under a long siege, finally broken. Laura found herself smiling back at them as she handed out blankets. It was going to be a busy day. --- Marcine stared across her little corner of the city and wondered if shadows and light had always been that sharp. Windows below her opened and she heard a babble of voices from throughout the apartments, sensed people crossing her wards. The area that had collapsed just before the fight was...empty. There might have been bodies lying around. She didn’t feel like checking just yet. “They actually loving did it.” <We did the hard part,> Shamsiel said smugly. <The world is rightly ours now. Where should we go first?> She sat down on the edge of the roof and spread her wings. She hadn’t felt the sun on them yet. Shamsiel’s real goals were still a mystery to her. Recreate Angel Tower on a larger scale, maybe. There was probably a downside to that, but she didn’t want to think about it with her dark feathers soaking in the warmth. Or how she was a lawbreaker too many times to count, or how the Council was coming, or how she could manage to live on the run… She heard a car engine going way too fast before it pulled into the parking lot. Her father got out and stared up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun. He’d felt like he had nothing else in the world to care about when she’d found him. But he was with the Council. She was a lawbreaker. He’d tried to make her come with him, or go with her, and all that lurked down that road was death for one or both of them, as far as she understood the Council’s rules. <It doesn’t matter,> she finally answered, as she stood and launched herself into the air, away from her father and the city and the consequences waiting for her.
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Aug 15, 2018 02:19
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Before Book Four begins in earnest, an offer to any readers: With Hugues retiring, I am short a player and looking to recruit. Send me a PM if you're interested, or join us on Discord HERE. I'd prefer people who know FATE, but the group is really friendly to new people, so don't let that stop you if you've been following us this far. Frequent posters please apply! While the theme of the game is magical lawbreakers, we've moved a bit past that and you can decide not to be a wizard-type if you'd like, (though I will not be accepting red/black court vampires or other totally evil backgrounds.) Changelings, shapeshifters, wizards/adepts, or scions are all fine. White Court is a maybe if you can pitch it and it's not creepy. We try to stay "canon-lite", as in, this could probably all be going on while Harry Dresden sits on his couch in Chicago, so we don't refer to canon-characters outside of ones that could show up anywhere like the Fae Queens or the Knights, and keep their roles minimal if we do use them. This game has been going for five years, and completed three full campaigns. We're gonna keep playing for at least a fourth, probably more. I look forward to hearing from you. 
mistaya fucked around with this message at 13:33 on Sep 9, 2018 |
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Sep 9, 2018 03:08
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Interlude - Introduction For a very few people, June 20th, 2012 was a night they could never forget. But for most, it was just a night like any other. And once time was restored, it continued to pass as it always had. Over the next few months, a lot happened. Some of it was important, and some wasn't, and some just looked unimportant at the time and was really very important indeed. So let's take a look at the end of that summer and early fall, and see what a few old friends, and new faces, were up to...
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Oct 2, 2018 07:10
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Interlude: Cleaning House (Note: This probably happens before James visits Elbridge.) Rick sat in a ratty lawn chair with his arms crossed and stared up at his childhood home. (Or at least the one he remembered the best, the Coles had moved around a lot.) It was a white-sided two-storey house with a green door, a wide front porch, and hedges along the front. He stood up and cracked his knuckles. This was the first time he’d visited his demesne since Ada left him, but that was two nights ago and he was ready to get back to work. He started towards the house. The front lawn was oddly flat, like a bunch of still photographs all pasted together, and it sounded more like a recording of rustling grass than the real thing when he walked through it. He didn’t pay it any mind. Most of the ideas that made up his demesne were placeholders, the equivalent of an architect’s preliminary sketch. He hadn’t wanted to put much effort into anything he wasn’t going to keep. The house creaked ominously when he unlocked the door. It had fallen down twice so far, not because the rules of physics mattered in the NeverNever, but because he kept trying to stick more rooms in it than he had the power to create yet. He didn’t pay that any mind either. At the end of the front hall was the breakfast nook from Ada’s kitchen, where you could see the entire back garden of the duSang manor, and where he’d spent more mornings than he could count drinking iced tea and having toast with jam. There was the small round table where he liked to sit and think about the day ahead, list off his responsibilities and chores, and read the newspaper. He reached out with his right hand and pulled a sledgehammer out of the air, took two more steps, and slammed it through the big bay window with both hands. Grinning wildly, he tightened his grip on the handle and turned to the rest of the room. The table was the next to go, antique walnut exploding into satisfying splinters as the dishes still on it crashed to the floor. He stomped over the remains and into the kitchen proper, where pots and pans went flying and the granite countertops made pretty piles of rubble. The fine stemware in the cabinets became a symphony of smashes as he pitched them one by one into the wall. He took a moment to open the fridge and drink the entire contents of the tea pitcher before dropping that too and moving on. *** Sledgehammer over his shoulder, he whistled as he walked into his teenage-self’s bedroom. He pushed the bookcase over, spilling his collection of Star Wars EU, Animorphs, and Hitchhiker’s Guide books everywhere. All the painted plastic trophies he’d earned as a kid fell to the floor. “Not good enough,” he said aloud, slamming the hammer directly into his old CRT monitor. He left it there and ripped the Mighty Ducks poster off the wall. “I was never good enough was I? Not good enough for you Dad, that’s for drat sure.” He dug through the closet until he found the Army jacket with John Cole’s patch on the front. “There you are,” he said, throwing it on the bed. He grabbed a can of spray paint out of his model car kit and shook it while he dug a lighter out of his pocket. Shocka-shocka-shocka-fwoosh. The fire from his makeshift flamethrower spread quickly over the camouflage greens, blackening them to ashes. As it spread from the blanket to the floor and started climbing the walls, he retrieved his hammer and left the blazing inferno of his childhood behind. *** He took the stairs two at a time, until he reached the windowed door that read Warden’s Office in gold letters. He hadn’t bothered recreating much of the place, just the main room with his desk and chair, where he spent most of his time. He punched the glass out and opened the door from the inside. “Not good enough for the Wardens either,” he said, shaking the blood off his knuckles. The wounds healed as instantly as they’d been made. He sat down on the secondhand couch, put his feet up on the coffee table, and lazily threw the hammer at his old television. It fell off the stand with a tolerable crash. He’d probably slept on this couch more often than his bed. It was more comfortable, and there was more room for Ada when she stayed over, even though that wasn’t often. Why stay here when Chateau duSang had bedrooms to spare? There was a paper coffee cup on the table, and it reminded him of the night she’d shown up on his doorstep with Starbucks when he was drunk and told him she’d soulgazed Santiago. “She didn’t have anything to do with it,” he said, to the man that wasn’t there. “Did you really have to chase me halfway across the world just to harass her? It was my fault, not hers!” He could still see Santiago’s twisted grimace at the trial, the seething hatred in his eyes. For the first time, he could match it with a fury of his own. He stood up and smacked the coffee cup off the table, retrieving the hammer with renewed energy. The answering machine exploded into bits and pieces. “If I could have traded my life for Rachel’s I would have in a heartbeat. I loved her too. But she died and I didn’t, and you couldn’t leave it like that. You wanted to execute me for it.” It wasn’t just Santiago though. He was the worst of them, but the White Council was full of old men with too much power who turned it on anyone they didn’t like. How many times had he defended the Council to Ada, to Marcine? How many times had they proved they didn’t deserve it? “You ripped out my memories and put a death collar on me. A collar! Like a loving dog!” He picked up the crystal ball on his desk and flung it through the back picture window with all the force he could muster. They hadn’t just collared him, they’d lied about it. The spell had broken when he died, and his stolen memories had come rushing back. All those times he’d told himself it was for his own good, all the self-justification, believing he’d become suicidal over Rachel when they took his mind apart...none of that had been true. It had been a back-alley compromise with Santiago, who’d promised to drop his suit quietly if the Senior Council erased all of his memories of Rachel. And they’d done it, because it had been easier than dealing with an angry Warden Commander backed by the support of the soldiers they needed to win their war. He opened his file cabinet and started hefting manilla envelopes out the new hole in the window. He’d worked so hard, carried so much water, all for a Council that had written him off as an acceptable loss. When the cabinet was empty he grabbed the last stack of papers on the desk. The top page bore Laura Bellworth’s signature. “Oh right,” he whispered. “I guess I got off easy, because you did kill Hugues.” He shook his head in disbelief. Not at the Council signing a death warrant for one of their own, but at himself. He’d known they’d done it, and he’d still had faith in them. Just like a good dog should. He slammed the door on his way out, and the last few shards of glass fell free and shattered on the hardwood floor. *** The next room he visited was pitch black inside, but he’d lived there for so many years that he didn’t need light to know where things were. Sitting on the bed in the dark, the tension leaked out of his body until he just felt spent. Eventually he reached out to touch the fishbowl lamp on the bedside table, casting a dim white light on his old dorm, deep in the lower levels of Edinburgh. On the shelf below the lamp was one of the yearly NeverNever Almanacs he’d contributed to. He picked it up to look inside. It was blank, but as he flipped through it the ink bled onto the pages. When was the last year he’d submitted an entry? 2008? He used to be so proud of them. He set the book down with a sigh and looked around. His mahogany desk was there, the same one from the office, just earlier in time. The crystal ball was sitting on its stand, along with a half-finished manuscript covered in technical drawings. A Conventional Guide to Unconventional Travel, the thesis that he’d never finished. When had he had time to write? Not since he became a Warden. Even after the war ended he’d been too busy putting out fires around New Orleans to sit down and work on it. It hurt so much to look at it. He put his head in his hands and took slow, ragged breaths. He couldn’t destroy this room. It was frozen forever in a perfect moment, a moment when his future was still out there waiting for him, before Rachel came in like a wrecking ball and made a bigger mess of him than he’d made of Ada’s kitchen. He could feel the cloak as she pressed it into his hands, and all the neat, orderly threads of his life snapping and tying into knots at her touch. “Why did I let you do this to me?” he whispered. He could remember her face now, every smile she’d ever given him, every kiss on the cheek, the way she’d flip her braid over one shoulder and laugh at him when she thought he’d done something cute. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a grey velvet box. Inside was the ring she’d rejected, all those years ago. He’d never really gotten over it. Even now, just looking at the box shoved a knife in his heart. “It was your fault,” he said, remembering the letter she’d left for him after she died. “All of it was. I was never good enough for you either, Rachel. But that didn’t stop you from using me.” He closed the door gently behind him and locked it with an ornate iron key. Then he threw the key away as hard as he could. He was pretty sure it went out the window at the end of the hallway, but where it landed, he didn’t want to know.
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Oct 22, 2018 06:03
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*** The acacia tree in the backyard was waiting for him. A small cookfire sat beside it in a ring of stones with a pot of water boiling on it, and a blue canvas tent was pitched under its prickly boughs. He sat down in the dirt by the fire and crossed his legs, looking up at the hot South African sun. For a moment he was fifteen again, and convinced that heatstroke was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. He smiled and reached for the battered steel lunch box where Kwame kept the instant tea. You never took anything for granted in the savannah. Even the water in the pot was precious, and not to be wasted. He removed it from the fire, pouring some into a tin mug and adding a pair of mismatched tea bags. “I think you were the only person who ever really believed in me,” he said sadly to the empty blue tent, where Kwame would sit, smiling, as he watched him puzzle out that day’s lesson. “I didn’t call, I didn’t write, I didn’t listen to you when you told me she was trouble.” What would his teacher think of him now? Kwame had never had any love for the Wardens, or any other authorities for that matter. They’d argued fiercely when he was drafted, and Kwame had even offered to let him stay with him until the war ended, safe from all of it. But he’d called the old man a coward and chased after Rachel like a stupid, lovesick puppy. That was the last time they’d spoken to each other. He took the ring box out of his pocket and opened it this time. Inside was a gold band with a single tiny diamond set in it. It was pathetic. Not the ring, but the fact that he’d kept it so long, nursing old wounds instead of putting them aside. He dropped it in the fire and used a long stick to push it into the center of the coals. “You were right,” he whispered, as the gold went soft and began to run. “She ruined my life, just like you said she would. And I helped her.” Rachel had pressed the cloak into his hands, but he was the one who put it on. He was the one who’d decided to play soldier, against all his teacher’s wishes. Against his own, if the ashes of his father’s Army jacket were any proof. He’d rebuilt his life around a lie, that none of what had happened had been his fault, and as long as he held onto that lie he couldn’t apologize to Kwame. So he hadn’t, even though he’d rehearsed the conversation in his head a thousand times. The wind was picking up. He finished his tea and stood, looking out at the storm clouds on the horizon. It wasn’t too late to fix things. But he had one more stop to make before he was done. *** Ada’s bedroom. It was meant to be a surprise for her, and a challenge to see if he could recreate a place he hadn’t spent as much time in as he might have liked to. Where other rooms in the demesne had empty books and cardboard furniture, this one was finished down to the last detail. He ran his fingers over the top of the dresser. The sound and the feel of the wood was just right. His hand clenched. So much work, and it was all for nothing. She’d never get to see it now. “What’s wrong with the little things?” he asked the man in the mirror. “What’s wrong with wanting to be happy, and have a family to come home to?” It sounded hollow when he said it, and he couldn’t meet his reflection’s gaze. That wasn’t why she’d broken up with him, and he knew it. He crossed the room to the wardrobe and opened the doors. Inside was the white gown she’d worn to the Gala, next to his grey tunic. The little black dress, and the black heels she’d worn when they went after Peter Evans, next to his leather jacket. Her sexy Mrs. Claus costume, (he’d thought she’d get a kick out of that one,) and his Rudolph antlers. Everyday clothes took up the rest of the space, t-shirts and jeans, sneakers and work boots. All the clothes he’d seen her wearing, each one part of a precious memory. His vision blurred. “Why couldn’t I keep up with you?” he asked, voice trembling. He tugged on the sleeve of her hoodie as if it could tell him. But he’d found the answer in his old room at Edinburgh, hadn’t he? Ada hadn’t been satisfied with being another Rachel, happy to use him because he’d wanted to be used. Knowing that didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, it made it all worse. Because if she was right to leave him, he really wasn’t good enough for her, or anyone else. He picked up the red striped candle from her nightstand. It was the only real present he’d ever given her. She’d never burned it, but she’d always kept it close. He sat on the bed and turned it over in his hands, the same bed where he’d cried and laid beside her, accepting one last moment of comfort after she’d torn his heart to pieces. Had she felt the same fear he had? First one wick caught fire, then the other. Hot wax dripped like tears, running over his bare hand, but the pain only helped him focus. “Why?” he demanded, quietly furious. “Why did I give up on my dreams so I could chase Rachel’s?” “Because you hoped she’d love you for it,” said his reflection. There it was. The naked, ugly truth. Even after she’d died, Rachel had such a hold on him that he’d never left the Wardens, never gone back to what he wanted out of life. He’d just kept doing what she’d asked of him. Kept on ‘making it mean something’. A curse so potent they’d put it on his tombstone. He’d have done the same thing for Ada, with the same result, but she hadn’t let him go that far. Had he always been this desperate? He stood up and looked at the mirror again, staring himself right in the eyes. No, not always. He’d had his own life once, and his own dreams, and there was nothing stopping him from having them again. Nothing except himself. He held the still-burning stub of candle up to his face. Maybe the poem that came with it hadn’t been about Ada after all, but about their time together. “You gave a lovely light,” he said, and blew it out.
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Oct 22, 2018 06:04
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Interlude: Welcome Home A week after her visit to the family crypt, as the sun was beginning to set, Ada came home to an unexpected sight. Beyond the iron gates of the duSang estate, the Rolls Royce was sitting on the white stone driveway. Squinting, she stared at it for a moment, as she unlocked the gates. What was it doing out there? She hadn’t had any need of it today. Its tires were slick with moisture, too - somebody had taken it out for a spin. Maybe Roy had gone out to take care of an errand? Shrugging, she walked past it and up the entryway stairs. In the end, it didn’t really matter. She’d spent the whole day with Zia, checking in on her progress after they’d rescued her from the fomor. She’d been quiet and withdrawn for months, but when she’d seen the pendant, she’d opened up and asked to have a closer look. Seeing her chatter so animatedly about the details of the design had made Ada’s day, and when she’d told Zia about her plans for it, she’d immediately started drawing up sketches, before Ada’d even made up her mind to ask. The planning for her first big move was going smooth as honey these days. Maybe she could get started on drafting up a list of potential allies to reach out to...but when she opened the door and stepped inside, she saw a familiar visage by the window that froze her blood cold. The woman was sitting there in her sleek, made to order business suit, sipping tea and watching the sun go down like she had all the time in the world. Her face was hidden by the shadows cast by the light as it went out, but Ada didn’t need to see it to know her hair was blood red, her mouth thin and severe, and her eyes shone like emeralds, cold and bright. When the sound of the door shutting behind her caught her attention, she turned her head around slowly, and fixed her with a piercing glance. “Ada,” said Claudia duSang. “You’re home late.” “...Mom?” There was a note of disbelief in Ada’s voice. “What are you doing here?” “Just visiting,” she said, setting her teacup on its saucer and standing up. “Now come here and give me a hug.” It wasn’t a request. Hesitantly, Ada took a step forward, then wrapped her arms around her mother’s back. All the while, her mind never stopped racing. Her mother? Here? It had been more than a year since she’d last seen her. Santa Claus showing up at her doorstep would’ve been less of a surprise. “I thought you were still in Switzerland,” she asked, trying her best to not let her worries taint the tight squeeze of the hug...but that didn’t stop her mother’s nails from digging into her flesh as she held her close to her chest. “I was, until last week,” her mother said, not letting go. “I’ve missed you very much.” “I missed you too,” Ada said, letting her head rest against her mother’s chest. “You didn’t come for my birthday. I was looking forward to getting drunk with you until we couldn’t see straight,” she joked, but her voice was too cheerful, too light to really make it funny. After a moment of deep silence, she spoke up again. “Is Dad here too?” “Upstairs unpacking still,” she stroked Ada’s hair, but when she felt the golden tips her fingers knotted in them. “What’s this?” Ada’s stomach tightened up into a tiny little ball. She swallowed. “A lot happened while you were gone. New Orleans almost went up in flames more than once. I had to call in a couple favors.” “Favors you still owe,” Claudia said, sighing heavily. “Why did I ever let you out of my sight?” Part of Ada couldn’t help but feel ashamed, being scolded like that, but another part wanted to fight back. She wasn’t a child anymore, and didn’t feel like being treated like one. “I don’t know. Was it because you trusted me?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of steel in it. “I gave you space to see if I could,” her mother said, in the same tone. “What have you done with it?” “I stopped a hurricane and an archdemon, made friends with a newborn dragon, beat the witch Circe in a duel and made her my gardener, invoked Santa Claus in the middle of summer, brought down the previous head of Summer’s court, met my first boyfriend and lost him, traveled back in time to meet my great-grandmother and changed the past.” Taking a deep breath, Ada pulled herself free from her mother’s clutches and stared into her eyes. “Mom, I saw how our family used to be back when she was still alive. We can’t stay like this. I’m going to bring our family’s power back.” “Oh? How do you plan to do that?” Claudia sat down again, folding her hands in her lap like a queen entertaining a supplicant. She didn’t seem surprised by anything Ada had said. “Summer is still reeling from Narcissus getting caught trying to break time and Winter hasn’t managed to entrench yet. The Raiths got kicked out, there’s no Red Court to hold us back either, and the White Council couldn’t hold the city if it tried,” Ada recounted. It’d surprised her the first time she’d thought about it, how the city’s mighty had fallen, one by one, and how she’d been there to see almost every single one of them fall. “I’m going to get the humans of New Orleans behind us and I’m going to poach as many people from the city’s powers as I possibly can, then I’m going to break Summer’s back. If I can shatter their powerbase and get the Greeks out of the way, there won’t be anyone else big enough to keep us from reclaiming the city and making it ours. What do you think?” Claudia nodded once. “A bold plan, but what do you want with the city? What will you do once you have it?” “I want to make something that lasts beyond me. Something that changes the game for good. I want a place where monsters and humans can coexist instead of hunting down each other.” She took a deep breath. “I thought I could keep this place safe by fighting the monsters, once, but it never stopped. People just kept dying. But we can do better than that, and we will once I’m in charge.” There was a gleam in Ada’s eyes as she spoke. This was what she saw when she dreamed every night. This was something truly worth fighting for. “You will not last the year,” Claudia said, standing. “And I will not allow my only daughter to attempt suicide by Faerie Lord. Give me the necklace.” She held out her hand. “I’m not going to die!” Ada shot back. “Archdemons using my blood couldn’t kill me, Old Man Pontchartrain won’t get a better chance. And what necklace are you talking about?” “The one you stole from your great-grandmother’s tomb,” Claudia said, her eyes piercing. “You are playing with forces you do not understand. Your naked ambition has already weakened the protections on this house!” Ada glared at her. “What protections? The house’s spirit is still there, watching over us, and you couldn’t drive a tank past our threshold. It’s all the same as it ever was.” “Is it? Then why did I feel my mother’s wards cracking all the way in Switzerland? The wards that are the only reason what remains of our family survived? What do you know of the house that you plan to lead, child?” Breathing rapidly, Ada reached into her pocket and drew out Sylvia’s pendant. It shone in the house’s penumbra, like it was pleased to be back home. “The only things I know about our family are what I managed to dig up,” she said, her voice as cold as Claudia’s as she looked up from the rose emblem. “And you know why? Because you haven’t taught me anything. I never knew my grandmother, and if it had been up to you I never would’ve found out she did something to protect us. Maybe you’re happy living like this in an empty house full of ghosts, but I’m not.” She turned her hand around and showed the pendant to her mother. “This place deserves better. We deserve better! My great grandmother thought we could become strong again, and she trusted me with it!” Her fingers tightened around the pendant, turning bone white. “Why won’t you trust me, Mom? Why am I not good enough for you?!” She shouted, her voice cracking from the strain. “Because you ran away!” Claudia shouted back. “To someplace my blood couldn’t call and your Name wouldn’t reach. How can I entrust the family to someone who would forsake it, only to come back changed, a stranger to me! I would have told you everything, shown you every picture, taken your hand and taught you every spell and ward, but you weren’t here!” Ada opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She was too angry, too hurt to say anything. Not just because her mother had accused her of running away, but because it was true. The little girl she’d once been had died a long time ago. She clenched her fists and tried to slow down her breathing, but that didn’t stop tears from leaking out. “You were so far away when I came home. Like I had nothing to do with you, like I was some eyesore you didn’t want to see again. We spent so much time together, and every time you hugged me, it felt like you were a million miles away.” Her nails were starting to dig into her palms, stinging with the familiar pain of blood crying for release. “Is that why you never come home, Mom?” she asked, her voice a whisper. “Because you don’t love me anymore?” Claudia’s eyes dropped. “It was your father’s idea to go abroad. He thought I was suffocating you, that you wouldn’t be allowed to grow up if I stayed too close. But I wasn’t the only one who was a million miles away, Ada. You never told me what happened to you while you were gone, and the distance grew and grew. You wouldn’t let me back in, and I didn’t remember how to ask.” She raised her eyes to meet Ada’s again. “You are my only daughter, how could I not love you?” Slowly, the pressure of her nails on her palms slackened, and Ada’s fists unclenched. No longer surrounded by it, the pendant fell down her hand until it got caught on two of her fingers, dangling by its chain. “I was...I was scared,” she said, sniffling. “Scared you hated me for what happened to Alisa. Scared you’d hate me even more if I told you the things I’d done while I was away. I was so filthy. So stained...” She could still remember how she’d taken back her future by killing with her magic for the first time, that burning rush that she still felt within her, looking for an excuse to get out. How could she tell anyone about it? How could anyone forgive? “Mom...if I tell you, will you promise you won’t hate me? Even if I tell you the whole truth?” It was such a stupid thing to ask of anyone. Her whole body entered a state of tension, preparing for the ‘no’. Claudia crossed the space between them and pulled Ada into another hug. This one was different than the one before, not too tight, not so possessive. Her voice was calm in Ada’s ear. “Ada, we blood mages are well used to stains. Tell me.” This time, it was easy to stay so close to her. Somehow, it felt nostalgic, like a memory of something they’d done a long, long time ago. Ada wanted to stay like this a little longer, but there was something even more important than letting go of the weight she’d carried all these years. There was someone who’d been waiting even longer to talk to her mother than her. “Mom…” she began, softly. “Before I tell you about what happened, there’s something I forgot to say earlier. I ran away because it felt like I couldn’t get away from Alisa’s memory, but it was something more than that. She’s still here, watching over me.” Claudia pulled away just far enough to look Ada in the eyes. “What do you mean, watching over you?” “I can’t explain it. But she can,” she said, and closed her eyes. “Alisa, come in,” she whispered. “I know you’re waiting.” For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Ada shuddered, and when she opened her eyes, she wasn’t there anymore. “Mom?” Claudia took her daughter’s face in both hands, her eyes searching for some sign of a trick, or proof, but there was nothing except the frightened joy in Ada’s smile to give it away. “Alisa?” she whispered, not daring to believe. Alisa threw herself into her mother’s arms without even a shred of hesitation. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier, we only found a way to do this a couple months ago.” Alisa spoke quickly, as though afraid the chance to make things right might disappear forever if she didn’t. “It’s been so lonely all these years. I missed you.” Claudia rocked back and forth as if she were cradling a baby instead of a full grown woman. “Alisa, Alisa, Alisa,” she said her name over and over, tears flowing freely now. “My beautiful daughters, of course you stayed together. Of course you did. I thought we’d lost you forever...” A strange little noise escaped Alisa’s throat, halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I never thought I’d feel this again,” she said, clutching her mother tightly. “But I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again.”
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Oct 25, 2018 08:46
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Interlude - In Which Somehow This Really Is Admissible In Court Elbridge raised the lid on his lacquered box and removed the contents. Carved from dense hardwood and painted with enamel, they were more like tiles than proper cards, but Elbridge shuffled them deftly between his fingers all the same. Ancient and well-used as they were, they were in remarkable condition; they’d channeled powerful magicks over the course of more than a century, and uncountable readings, until those same magicks suffused the entire deck from top to bottom. “Is that ivory?” Drou asked, incredulous. “It looks like ivory. poo poo, El, you know that stuff’s illegal? All them elephants going extinct, you can’t even import unless it’s for a museum or something.” “One, it’s not ivory,” Elbridge said, shuffling at breakneck speed over and around the campaign pin. “Two, it wouldn’t have been illegal when the deck was made, and three-” He spread the cards into four fans over the table, then swept them all back into a single deck. “-I do curate for museums.” “...course you do,” Drou muttered. “You were probably the guy with the Ark in the box at the end.” “I understood that reference!” Elbridge said excitedly. It was true - with his new staff, he’d finally been able to watch one of George Lucas’ classics. It had been on a VHS tape on a television set from the Reagan administration. Rick had warned him not to do any online searches regarding Lucas’ works “until at least the Star Wars trilogy”, and when Elbridge had noted that there were more than three Star Wars films, Rick had angrily insisted that no there weren’t. “Uh.” “Right, never mind that then.” Elbridge flipped the first card from the top of the deck and laid it at Drou’s right hand. VIII: Justice. “Hey, that’s-” Drou leaned over, examining the engraving. “Looks like that statue, except she’s not wearing a blindfold. Is this for Frisk? He’s been talking about justice a lot on the campaign trail.” “It’s possible,” Elbridge said, “but the connotations of Justice are a bit more, ah, hard-edged than that. The sword and all, you see.” “Hard-edged...wait, is that me?” “I expect so.” “But I’m askin’ about Frisk.” Elbridge squinted at the tarot card. “It appears that the answer is being addressed to you.” He drew the second card and set it across the first at a right angle. IV: The Emperor. “Goldman?” Drou asked. “Goldman,” El affirmed. “Paternal authority, generosity, conservatism and self-assurance.” “But Goldman ain’t mayor yet,” Drou pointed out. “And he don’t seem that generous, and he’s turning the whole city upside-down with his bid.” “He’s quite generous with his bribes, and he follows all of the laws that were held sacred in what’s now Turkey, oh...three or four millennia ago. But you’re right,” Elbridge granted. “He isn’t mayor - yet. The source of your troubles is his ambition.” “I didn’t need no psychic to tell me that.” Elbridge gave Drou a peevish look. “Third card - root cause.” He put the card below the first pair. XIII: Death. “You serious?!” Drou stood up, staring at the grinning reaper on the tile. “You telling me Frisk’s dead already?” “I’m not saying that,” Elbridge said levelly. “Well then what are you saying?!” Drou demanded. “Because that looks pretty unambiguous!” “It represents radical and transformative change,” Elbridge explained. “You mean like death?” “...including death, yes.” “This is just like when my gramma got cursed by that fortune-teller,” Drou said, fuming. “‘Oh, no!’” he quoted, putting on a very bad Eastern European accent. “‘The card of Death means change! Is telling you to change!’ You know what happened a year later?” “What?” “Gramma died.” “I’m very sorry to hear that,” Elbridge said placidly. “How did she die, if I might ask?” “Lung cancer,” Drou said. “Two packs a day for thirty-three years.” “...fourth card,” Elbridge said, declining to comment further. He flipped it over and placed it above the other three. Five of Coins. “Interruption. Instability. Often pertains to professional or domestic affairs.” “Trouble at home, huh?” Drou leaned back in the plastic armchair, looking up at the white plaster ceiling. “Frisk or Goldman?” “Drou…” Elbridge said uneasily. “The fourth card pertains to the querent’s past. This is about you.” “Look, I dunno what your creepy, Snow White, Fourth-Amendment-violation in the bathroom told you, but that is not me.” Drou was avoiding the subject, and El could tell. “I dunno, draw another card. This one’s broken.” “It’s not an accusation.” “Really? ‘Cause it sure sounds like one. Draw a different card.” Elbridge shuffled the Five of Coins back into the deck with a dyspeptic look on his face, already knowing where this was going. “Pick a card,” he told Drou, offering him the deck. “Any card.” “Fine,” Drou said, and grabbed one from the center of the deck. Five of Coins. “Mother-FUCKER!” Drou hurled it against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. “You did some card trick, El! Some two-bit stage magic. ‘Oh, is this your card?’ Had it in your sleeve the whole time, and I ain’t got time for this poo poo!” “I’m not wearing sleeves,” Elbridge countered, still seated, still keeping his composure. “Draw again, please.” Drou snatched the top card and slammed it down to reveal - Five of Coins. “What the…?” Drou did a double-take, looking over to where he’d flung the tile. The dent in the wall remained, but the card had vanished from the floor. When he looked again at the Five of Coins on the desk, he saw that it was specked with plaster dust. “Drou, please stop wasting my security deposit.” Elbridge pulled the deck back towards himself, and revealed the fifth card, the central purpose of the reading: King of Staves. “Drive, wit, and an intemperate will to action. Someone who isn’t afraid to move quickly and break things.” “That’s...that’s Frisk, alright,” Drou said, slumping back into his chair. “Remember his slogan?” “‘If Not Now, When?’” Elbridge quoted from memory. “This is good, though.” He tapped at the button. “It means that the cards have acknowledged your goal, and are guiding you toward it.” He drew the sixth card and set it to the right of the centre. VI: The Lovers. “He’s been kidnapped by Bonnie and Clyde?” Drou deadpanned. “Stranger things have happened,” El deadpanned back. “This draw represents a ‘wild card’, a factor that could make or break the fate laid out before you. It could represent another person or persons, or it could mean a choice.” “That’s pretty vague, El,” Drou said. “Think you can clear that up any?” “In particular, the Lovers represent commitment,” Elbridge explained. “They symbolise a choice of one option to the exclusion of others; a decision that is not undone lightly. Someone, and it may be you, has an important decision to make.” “You mean like getting involved in a case that’s not mine and isn’t officially supposed to exist?” “That is one possibility, yes,” Elbridge said. “That said...I suspect that you’ve already made that particular choice. You may be tested again in the future, but I don’t believe that the cards are warning you about this specific decision.” “So look out for someone who might make a bad call,” Drou said, summarizing. “Or has already made one,” Elbridge said, thinking of the loveless way Midas’ wife looked at him. “This next card reflects the tone of the inquiry.” He pulled it from the deck and set it on Drou’s left, close to him at the edge of the table. Eight of Coins. “Prudence,” he explained. “You’re being cautious about this, and rightly-so.” “They kinda do look like buried landmines, don’t they?” Drou asked. “The coins. With the vines in-between.” “Indeed. Tread lightly,” Elbridge advised. Next card. Friends and allies. Page of Swords. “Aha! This one’s easy. Back in July, I was visited by an agent of the...well, you wouldn’t know their organisation’s name, but they hunt monsters.” “Like you do?” “Only part-time.” Elbridge shrugged. “These fellows are professionals. They’ve had their own concerns about Goldman, especially certain of his…employees. At any rate, you’ll want to speak with a Mr. James Ivarson. I believe that he’s still in town.” “Alright.” Drou nodded. “You have his card or anything?” “Er...no. I...used it for a spell.” Elbridge looked sheepish. “I still have his contact information.” He reached into his drawer for a pen and paper. “El.” Drou held up his smartphone and tapped the ‘Contacts’ button. “Hm? Oh! Er, yes, I could just…” Staff in one hand, phone in the other, Elbridge typed in the numbers for Raymond’s Antiques and Oddities, then handed the device back before he might inadvertently cause it to explode. “Right. Where were we? Ninth card, and a word of warning.” He flipped it over. Seven of Swords. “...worrisome.” “That sure is a shifty-looking dude stealing a lot of swords,” Drou observed. “They’re destined for someone’s back,” Elbridge said. “In this context, the Seven of Swords implies betrayal.” “Well that’s just great. You know what I was thinking when I came here? I was thinking ‘Abel, you lucky bastard, your problem is you just have too many people you can trust’!” “Well, you’ve at least two,” Elbridge noted. “Myself, and - evidently - Mr. Ivarson.” “What, no Renfaire Rick?” Drou laughed. Elbridge’s face fell. “Wait, did something happen?” Drou asked. “Haven’t seen him around in a few months, now that I think about it.” “There was a crisis after the solstice,” Elbridge said softly. “...Rick didn’t make it” “Goddamn.” Drou let out a long breath. “I mean, I didn’t...weren’t any news reports or nothin’...I’m sorry, man.” “So are we all.” A long, awkward pause followed before Elbridge finally broke the silence again. “The final card describes the most-likely outcome, should you follow the path marked by the previous nine. If you’d prefer to do the honours?” He offered the deck again, and Drou picked up the topmost card. X: The Wheel of Fortune. “I’m gonna guess this doesn’t mean I’ll be on a game show,” Drou said, chuckling in an effort to lighten the mood. “Curious,” Elbridge said, placing the card at the top of the line above the Eight of Coins and the Page and Seven of Swords. “The Wheel rarely denotes an outcome so much as a lack thereof. It’s progress, and it’s providence, but it doesn’t resolve anything.” “So you’re saying…” Drou thought on the meaning. “...life keeps going?” “I suppose that would make as much sense as any other explanation.” Elbridge sighed. “Rescuing Frisk won’t solve all of New Orleans’ problems, but...things might improve.” “Deep stuff,” Drou said, mildly-sarcastic. “Sometimes, you have to move Heaven and Earth just to stay where you are,” Elbridge said, remembering what Narcissus had cost them all. “If it helps, Abel, there is one other possible reading of the Wheel.” “What’s that?” Elbridge looked down at the arrangement and fixed his gaze upon the Emperor, glaring as if willing it to burst into flame. “Karma.”
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Nov 8, 2018 05:11
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Book 4: Power Plays State of the City: Fall, 2012. Narcissus is imprisoned in Arctis Tor, awaiting trial. The only reason he’s being kept alive at this point is that Titania is still missing, and he’s a vital witness to her treachery. The truth of what happened is still largely unknown, other than that Titania is gone (and the Summer Queen’s mantle with her) and Narcissus had something to do with it. Mab hasn’t made any overt moves yet, but it’s been unseasonably cold in New Orleans ever since the handoff. For now, Winter reigns, but what will happen at the next equinox? A delegation of Winter fae arrived in the city just a few weeks ago, and have been giving Old Man Pontchartrain as many headaches to deal with as Narcissus’ old courtiers. The more modern fae aren’t happy having a staunch traditionalist in charge again and have been fighting him every step of the way. The wilder fae that serve Pontchartrain are starting to move into the city after being barred from it for nearly a century, and there’ve been a few… incidents. Rubeansidhe and her family have been blacklisted from Summer for turning Narcissus over to Mab. They’re currently living in a small house in an undisclosed location, under Mab’s protection. While they’ve been offered a place in the Winter Court, transitioning isn’t the easiest thing, and Ruby and Isabel have been struggling. Young Ruby has since taken the name Emmy, (for Emerald.) She’s just started school at Tulane. Speaking of Tulane, something’s up with the faculty there. Students have been getting blackmailed into serving dark forces and it seems like it’s only a matter of time before someone gets hurt, or worse. Mitch Landrieu, the incumbent and very popular mayor, suddenly announced he wouldn’t be seeking a second term and endorsed his good friend Benjamin Frisk, a Democrat born and raised in the Lower 9th district. Frisk was one of those small business owners who’d made it big in real estate. Midas, posing as John Goldman, City Treasurer, has decided to run against him as a Republican. His campaign has been unsurprisingly flush. But something seems to be wrong, because Frisk missed his latest fundraiser and the police are getting involved… It’s only a few more weeks until the election, and with one candidate missing, things are starting to look dire. The Gilded Lily, now property of the City, went from a speakeasy in its heyday to well, basically a community theater at this point. It’s being sold via private auction to some hotel chain that wants to bulldoze it and put up a resort. Preventing the sale won’t be easy, and there isn’t much time to raise a counter-offer. That old place is special to a lot of people, but the deck is stacked against it. In other words: 
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Nov 14, 2018 09:07
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The Paranet Pizza Party Scene: Mary Laveau’s House of Voodoo The meeting was scheduled for just after noon, and would last until the evening when people got tired of socializing. This month it was being hosted at the Voodoo shop. The sign on the door was set to closed, but the door itself was open for the people who knew what was going on. While it was at least partially a tourist trap, with shrunken heads on strings hanging in the window and a wide variety of pincushion dolls and kitschy merchandise for souvenir-hunters, there was a lot of good historical stuff in there too. Most of what was for sale in that category was books, but Mary had a few treasures on display that were marked not for sale, like the African-style masks and small statuettes decorated with cowrie shells. There was a wide circle cleared of items in the back of Mary’s shop, with steel folding chairs set up for at least a dozen people. A card table nearby was piled high with warm pizza and drinks. The monthly meeting was popular but there were usually only six or seven regulars plus whoever they managed to drag along with them. This month Anna had news from out of state she’d promised to share, and she’d asked Elbridge if he could continue his lessons on defensive magic. She’d also heard through the grapevine that there would be some new folks, so she’d dug up her orientation binder and brought that along too. She was sitting in one of the folding chairs, legs crossed, gnawing on a pencil while she looked over her event program. Just then, the door opened, but it wasn’t Elbridge who stepped inside. “This is the monthly Paranet meeting, right?” Ada asked as she walked in, wearing the same getup she’d taken to the Lily, but with far more confidence in her step, thanks to a few extra days’ worth of practice moving around in it. She took one look around and took a deep breath. “...Tell me we’re not the only ones coming. This is the second time this week I’ve gotten decent expecting people to turn up.” “If we are then I ordered way too many pizzas,” Anna said, glancing up. “Nice of you to finally show up, Ms. duSang.” “‘Finally’?” Ada repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think I missed any invitations.” Anna laughed and tapped the seat next to her, “You ain’t gotta RSVP for this kind of party. Sit down, stay a while. How’s your friend?” “Zia’s fine now. Took a while to crack the shell the fishmen stuffed her into, but she’s back to normal now. Maybe a little more fond of the Audubon Aquarium than before,” she smirked, sitting down beside her and rubbing her arms, covered by a black leather coat. With the temperature dip of the last months, New Orleans had felt practically frozen as of late. “And Max? How’s he doing?” “About the same… I’m honestly thinking we should get a survivor’s group going for Fomor retrievals but putting them in a room together might just be a bad idea, given the whole… chorus… thing. I don’t know.” Three sharp knocks on the door announced Elbridge’s arrival. “It’s open!” Anna yelled. “It’s still polite to knock,” Elbridge insisted as he stepped inside. He was back in his usual retiree-wear: jumping salmon splashed across a salmon-coloured Hawaiian shirt, khaki slacks, and socks with sandals. In lieu of a sword or a badge of office, he carried his staff, which was plenty attention-catching on its own. He didn’t wear the cloak here; it would have set too-hostile a tone. “Anna. Ada.” He acknowledged the others. “How is everyone today?” “Little nervous about the meeting,” Ada admitted, turning her eyes to shoot El a glance, stopping for a couple seconds on the strange staff he was carrying. “Beyond that, though, fine. What’s on the agenda for today?” “Lots of stuff,” Anna said, pointing her pencil at the pile of binders next to her. “Got some newbies incoming, gonna need to find out just how green they are before I can set the schedule… Defensive training with our resident Warden here,” she smiled at Elbridge. “Big news out of Miami too but I don’t want to get into that until everyone’s here.” “Speaking of big news...I didn’t know you’d gotten some new gear. What is that thing?” Ada asked, pointing at the staff. “My new staff,” Elbridge told her, spinning it in place on the floor. “I made it from a souvenir from our last adventure.” “You carved it out of that tree yourself?” Ada said, surprised. “Isn’t that kind of old-school, even for you?” “The classics are classics for a reason,” he retorted. “Mr. Cantor!” “Y-yes?” Nicky poked his head into the shop as if he wasn’t sure he was in the right place. “What are the three principal traits that make a wooden staff ideal for spellcasting?” “Oh, erk-” His long striped scarf got caught in the door, and the bell jangled for a moment while he extricated it. “W-wood conducts will best of all materials. Um, handworking an item is how you familiarize it with your own energy… and staves of course are ideal for any type of magical work due to their tapered shape.” “Just so,” Elbridge said, nodding his approval. “Grk!” The sound of someone else nearly slamming into the door when it stopped on the scarf echoed outside. After “Mr. Cantor” pulled himself inside, Gorden followed, catching the door as it swung back into position. He regarded the trinkets in the window with confusion, then mild disgust, like a virtuoso musician hearing a sour note. Then he turned to the gathering inside and pulled a piece of pristine orange paper out of his jacket. “Hi there! This is the, ah, ‘Monthly Para-Net Meeting’?” he said, half expecting to be told “no.” “Sure is!” Anna called. “Anna Beaumont, I run the meetings. You Gorden?” “Yeah! Gorden Maxwell, good to meet you!” He held out his arm for a handshake. “Did Shirley call ahead?” Anna took it and shook it firmly, motioning him to sit down next to Elbridge. “She did, the little busybody. Never comes herself, but always has her nose in everything. Want some pizza?” “You really think I’d answer no?” Gorden chuckled as he took his seat. “Uni rule of survival-- never turn down free food,” he joked as he lifted up a slice. “Ah, you see, Ada?” Elbridge said. “There’s another thing that hasn’t changed.” “I’ll take your word for it,” Ada said, nodding. “Never really got a chance to spend much time inside an university.” She turned to look at the new arrival (emphasis on ‘new’ - there was something about him that screamed innocence), curiously. “First time here too?” she asked, offering him a smile. “Mmm-hmm,” nodded Gorden around a bit of mozzarella. No point in hiding it, really--if Shirley had called ahead, then Anna (and thus probably most of the room) knew he was new. “Didn’t even know this set-up existed till last week.” The door swung open once more as James slipped inside, absent mindedly hanging a pair of cheap sunglasses from the neck of his T-shirt as he raised an eyebrow at some questionable looking fetishes on one of the store’s shelves. Over his t-shirt, he wore an open pale blue shirt. A set of jeans and dark sneakers completed his outfit. Dodging past a table stacked high with books, he joined the others. With a glance at several of the masks, he said with a grin, “Liking the decor, Anna.” Anna smiled at him. “Mary’s place is my favorite. Good to see you again.” “You too. Anything I should keep clear of in here?” replied James. “You break it you buy it!” Mary’s low voice intoned from the store-room behind the counter. James rolled his eyes, “Gimme some credit, I can survive a vision without dropping stuff.” With a wink to Anna, he added quietly, ”Mostly.” “Don’t touch anything without a ‘Made in China’ sticker on it, love.” Anna held a hand to her cheek and dropped to a stage-whisper. “Lot of bad juju in here for the unwary.” “I heard that!” Mary yelled. “Ah, Mr. Ivarson.” Elbridge greeted him. “How’s New Orleans suiting you? Keeping busy, I’d expect?” “Still getting used to it, but it sure seems like an interesting town,” replied James, “Met a friend of yours, had an interesting chat.” “We’ll have to catch up,” Elbridge said, taking his meaning at once. “Later.” Benjamin Frisk’s disappearance was not yet a topic for public consumption - not until there was a way to discuss it without disclosing Drou’s involvement. “If you’re going to have a spy meet, you should make sure no one’s listening.” Ada said, cheerfully. “I’ve got a pretty good memory, you know.” Elbridge sighed in exasperation and gave James an imploring look, as if to say ’You see what I have to deal with here?’ James laughed at Elbridge's expression, “Ah, this isn't a spy meet. There's not nearly enough lanyards, and nobody's pointed a gun at me yet.” His matter-of-fact way of saying it got Ada to laugh. “Speaking from experience?” she asked, hiding her smile behind her hand (poorly). “Something like that,” replied James with a grin, “I can't say too much, most of it's still classified, Miss…?” “duSang. Ada duSang,” she said, giving him a nod as she spoke. “And you’re Mr. Ivarson, but I don’t think El said your name.” “Call me James,” he replied, “Nice to meet you, Ada duSang.” “Just Ada’s fine,” she said, inviting him to take the seat beside her. “So what brought you here, besides trading secrets with El?” “Always like to meet new people,” replied James, taking the offered seat and leaning back, “Besides, paranet meetings helped me get a better handle on my gift, so if I can help out, I do.” “Your gift? What’s your talent about?” “Psychometry - object reading,” he explained, “Mostly it's just a pain in the neck, if I'm honest.” “What makes it so bad?” Ada asked, leaning forward a little to listen more intently. “Learning the history of things sounds pretty useful to me.” “It can be,” he replied, “but mostly it's like watching a badly directed movie, starting half way through - really confusing.” “So it’s Memento, but with no ending?” Ada offered. “Kinda, yeah.” Gorden’s attention bounced back and forth among the conversation as he continued to eat his slice of pizza. Anna introduced him first, Mary Laveau (Sharene’s mom) in the back, “Mr. Cantor” entered before him, James Ivarson entered after him, Ada duSang the young woman. He wiped his hand of leftover grease and stood up. “Gorden Maxwell. Hi, James,” he said with a nod of the head. Then he turned to the man he was sat next to--El, Ada had called him. “Quite a pizza party we have going right now.” “An impressive turnout, to be sure,” Elbridge said. “You’re in university now?” he asked. “Physics major, grad student,” Gorden affirmed. “I do student teaching--it’s how I got networked to you all.” “That sounds like quite a background,” Elbridge said. “It’s not easy work, trying to reconcile the natural sciences with magicks that operate according to different laws altogether.” “Heh, well…” Gorden shrugged and scratched the back of his head. “That’s what they said about light, and X-rays, and nuclear power, and gravity, and dark matter, and...big chunks of the universe. I don’t think they’re so much different laws as not understood laws, and someday in the future we can talk about and use this ‘magic’ the same way we talk about, like, electromagnetism.” He wiped his hand over his mouth thoughtfully. “Or, y’know, classical mechanics and stuff. You a scientist? I’d guess...hmm...paleontology. You kinda look like the guy from Jurassic Park.” “Ha! Well, I did plenty of work indexing and archiving fossils back in the day, but no, I’m not a scientist by profession,” Elbridge told him. He thought for a moment on which of ‘Warden’ or ‘Wizard’ would be more loaded under the circumstances, then - Louisiana being Louisiana - elected the former. “Warden Elbridge Hardley, of the Council.” Gorden was about to bite into another slice of pizza when El introduced himself in full. He remembered Danny’s warning about Wardens executing people who played around too much with magic. Including time travel. Which, erm… He blinked rapidly trying to process the new information--how could the guy sitting next to him, who’d look at home in khaki shorts huddled around a big skull fossil, possibly be responsible for killing people?! He tried to imagine him bashing people’s brains out with the staff, but could only see the top piece flying off mid swing. “You...kill people?” he asked waveringly, and a bit nervously. “Do you, uh...do that a lot?” “No,” Elbridge said, “not often at all, and only when it’s clear that all other options have failed.” Was that a reassuring answer? Elbridge wasn’t sure what ‘reassuring’ sounded like these days. At any rate, why would that have been Mr. Maxwell’s first reaction upon meeting a Warden? Had Santiago been that brutal during his tenure? Something else Gorden had said finally registered to El at that moment. “Shirley...you go to Tulane with Ms. Quinn?” Gorden regarded Elbridge’s answer with a cocked head and tightened lips. What exactly did he mean by “all other options”? Was lobotomy a thing for wizards, like those forgetting curses from Harry Potter? Eventually he decided that worrying about that now would mean the pizza would get cold, so he gave a non-committal “eh...okay…?” and chewed on the next question. If Shirley had called ahead to the meeting, she clearly wasn’t trying to hide from them. “Hmm...Shirley’s on sabbatical. And we’re in different departments, too--she’s a Bio major.” “Well, I’m glad to hear that she’s managing, at any rate,” Elbridge said. He didn’t elaborate - the details of Shirley’s ordeal were hers to share and hers alone. Instead he just helped himself to a slice of pizza with olives. “I’ve brought lemonade,” he said, attempting to break the sudden, awkward silence. “Would anyone like some lemonade?” “Since when do you think of lemons as anything but a garnish for whiskey?” Maria asked as she walked in. “Fie on your whiskey sours,” Elbridge said, crossing himself. “Fie on them, I say!” Maria would have given him a hug, but it being Elbridge, she settled for a slap on the shoulder. “Pour me one for once, it’s my day off. ‘lo Anna, everyone.” Further greetings were exchanged as the regulars came in ones and twos, Mrs. Bellefonte the herbalist who ran the shop next door, Mr. and Mrs. Bigsby, (who weren’t magical but liked to keep up on the news,) Jerome Brown the single dad, (who’d been rescued from ghouls trying to sell him to the Fomor at the docks last year.) David and Lynn Larson, (Izzy’s parents.) A very quiet young man in a heavy jacket with a medical eyepatch covering half his face who only waved a gloved hand and avoided all the food. That last one got Ada’s attention. Silently, she got up and approached him after making sure no one was looking. She tapped him on the shoulder once, to get his attention, and smiled when he turned around. “Hey, Eric,” she said, quietly. “You’re looking pretty snazzy today.” Eric Barnes broke into a wide smile and embraced her like a lost sister. They hadn’t seen each other for a few months, but Ada had saved his life when he’d given up all hope, and more than that, she’d been to visit him often during his extended hospital stay after the hurricane that had cost him half his body almost a year ago. Ada returned the hug with just a little more care (he was still a little fragile, by the looks of it), but equal joy. “Funny how I picked today of all days to come here. Feels almost like fate that we ran into each other like this, doesn’t it?” she joked. He raised his lone eyebrow and pointed upwards, then made a hand sign that looked like wings. “Yeah, maybe it’s their work.” Ada’s smile didn’t waver, but it was a sobering thought to think they might be watching - the meeting had already gotten much more crowded than expected. Knowing there’d be so many eyes on her once she decided to speak up gave her plans for today stakes that the meeting at the Lily a week earlier had been lacking. “You wanna catch me up on how you got out of the hospital since we last talked? It’s been murder out in the streets lately, I couldn’t find a quiet moment to visit even with a search team and a magnifying glass.”
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Nov 21, 2018 07:56
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Lessons From Florida Scene: Voodoo Shop You’d think people would have taken the extra time to get situated but Anna still had to spend a few moments coaxing people into their seats. The pizza was nearly gone and the drinks hadn’t lasted either, but most everyone was having a good time socializing anyways. The monthly meeting was as much for catching up with the neighbors as it was the more important things. “Okay!” Anna said, finally, standing up with her blue binder in hand. “Welcome everyone, officially, to the September Monthly Meeting of the New Orleans chapter of the Paranet. We’ve got a new face here tonight,” she pointed to Gorden, and a light chuckle went around the circle. “Hi, everyone,” Gorden waved from his seat. “It’s nice knowing I’m not alone out there.” “I hope you’re all on your best behavior. Anyways, getting right to it. Any new names to add to our list of the lost?” For the first time in a long time, no one raised a hand. Anna was delighted and had everyone give Elbridge a round of applause. (Mr. Bigsby added a wolf whistle.) The defense techniques he’d been teaching had started to pay off big time. “Excellent progress, everyone,” Elbridge commended them. “Just remember not to get complacent - the monsters certainly won’t.” “So next on the list… Big news out of Miami.” She opened the binder and read from a news clipping. “After many tragic losses the Paranet groups in Miami and West Palm Beach led a joint attack on the Fomor stronghold off the coast near Fort Lauderdale. We are proud to say that the Fomor have been completely wiped out of south Florida.” “That's some good news,” replied James, having been sitting and listening intently, “Should keep everyone there safe, at least short term.” “Impressive,” Elbridge said. “How in the world did they manage that?” “Yeah,” Bigsby chimed in. “We ought to do the same thing ‘round here, if we can.” Murmurs of agreement went around the circle. Anna closed the binder and hugged it to her chest. “From what I understand they used a Red Tide bloom. Toxic algae. There was a lot of collateral damage, and the part that concerns me the most is that the survivors were spotted heading for the Gulf.” “My, that’s...certainly one way to kill fish,” Elbridge remarked. Biological warfare. Drastic and hideous. For the Paranet to have deployed it, the situation in Florida must have been desperate indeed. “How many of them got away?” Ada asked. “It’s one thing if it’s just a couple, but if there’s hundreds coming in...” “Not hundreds,” Anna said. “But maybe two or three dozen. Not clear how many Fomor vs. servitors, either. There’s a lot of coastline between Miami and New Orleans, for all we know they’re moving to Biloxi.” “Not much of a surprise. Can’t expect chemical weapons to leave too many survivors.” She crossed her arms and stared down the room. “We’re not deploying them to kill the Fomor here. We’re better than that.” “Was this algae aimed for the fomor or did they wreck the ecosystem?” Marcine asked. ‘Collateral damage’ wasn’t very specific, and that might be the point. “They dumped a bunch of nerve toxin into the ocean with the intent of killing everything in the area,” Mrs. Bellefonte said. For a nice little old lady she looked incensed. “What do you think?” “It would have traveled pretty far up the coast,” Rick added. “But the environmental damage isn’t even the worst part of it. Everyone the Fomor kidnapped from south Florida… they were probably in that base.” Ada’s hands clenched into fists. “So they killed their loved ones, just like that? What were they thinking?!” “I really hope they were just that goddamn desperate,” replied James, his composure slipping, “Because the only alternative is that they decided to listen to some kind of total psychopath.” Marcine’s jaw clenched. They were going to kill a lot more humans than Fomor unless that toxin dissipated much faster than she expected. “I hope whoever came up with that loving plan at least had the decency to get shoved in after it.” “Ms. Beaumont.” Elbridge addressed their host, cool and formal. “You mentioned earlier losses - how severe?” “Verging on Seattle-levels,” Anna said, looking down. The Seattle Paranet had gone dark months ago, and when Vancouver sent a rescue team they didn’t find anyone. It looked like the whole group had been taken. Possibly all at once, given the state of one of their meeting places. “We’ve been very lucky,” she added, almost guilty. Ada shot her a look. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it. The Fomor know better than to bite off more than they can chew.” What they’d done - her, Rick, Marcine, Elbridge and the others - was enough to give the fishmen pause, for good reason. They wouldn’t make a move here until they were confident they could crush all resistance, swiftly and without leaving any room for a counterattack. Marcine rubbed her temples. “So…no one else has had the idea to start teaching people to defend themselves, when this is just one of many threats out there?” “You do know the council, right?” Ada pointed out. “Since when have they looked out for the little guy instead of their own?” “They’d be in better shape if they did,” Marcine muttered. Or even looked after their own, she thought, glancing briefly at Rick. “There’s only so much most people can manage,” James replied, “Most of the Paranet doesn’t have the power or the skills to take the fight to them on anything close to even terms.” “So what happens when people who don’t have the power to go toe to toe with the monsters are called in to fight? Suppose he drops dead,” Ada said, pointing at Elbridge. “Me, too. What’s left? Fighting a losing battle until the city’s under Fomori control or worse? Committing atrocities to prevent that fate?” More than a few people gave Rick sideways glances, and he sank into his chair a little. “You got a better idea?” Bigsby asked, in a challenging tone of voice. He wasn’t happy about his earlier support for a mass poisoning, and deep down he was scared of exactly what Ada had proposed. What would happen if the city lost their new Warden, or the others who’d been protecting it? “You could run inland - less Fomor raids there, at least,” observed James, “Still have to dodge any other predators out there, but it’s an option. Not a good one, mind, but it’s there.” “I ain’t leaving my home behind for no man, fish, or sea beastie,” Bigsby grunted. “Runnin’ ain't an option.” “It shouldn’t have to be, but it’s there if anyone’s not up for this,” replied James, “What we really need is information - find out what makes them tick, and you’ll find some kind of edge on the bastards. That’s how we’ll beat ‘em.” “And we need something else.” Looking at Mr. Bigsby, Ada couldn’t keep her stomach from tightening into knots. This wasn’t how she’d expected the meeting to go - but now that a spotlight had been shone on her, she didn’t have much choice but to make her move. Taking one last deep breath, she stood up. “We’ve been moving in the fringes, trying not to step on anyone’s toes, and it’s limited our options. We need freedom - and we need control, too.” She swallowed, and stared at the crowd. “What if we took over New Orleans?” “What, like the mafia?” Mary asked, incredulously. “I think Uncle Sam might have some objections to that,” observed James. “No, not really,” Ada said, turning to look at Mary. “The whole reason these raids happen at all is there’s no central authority, nobody who can say ‘you can’t do this’. The only thing the monsters of New Orleans respect right now is strength, and we don’t have enough of it. But if we come together, we can fix that. And if we use that strength to leave everyone else weak enough that they can’t pick a fight with us, we can force them to play by our rules.” She glanced at the rest of the room for a moment, then continued. “Think about it. No more raids. No more people getting eaten in the dead of night. No more deaths because some critter thought it’d be funny to watch one of our friends bleed. Doesn’t it sound worth doing?” “Sounds too good to be true,” Anna said guardedly. “Because it is,” Elbridge said. “In order to wield that authority, we would need to be recognised as a distinct polity and become signatories to the Unseelie Accords. After that, we would have to name one of our number a Freeholding Lord, and maintain that standing over the objections of any rival claimants - objections they would only withdraw if given certain concessions in exchange, or else brought to heel through force. Even then, a Freeholding Lord’s power extends only as far as the boundaries of the Freehold, and the other Lords are only obliged to respect it to the extent that the Accords demand. Moreover, a Lord’s power is seldom uncontested.” Elbridge rolls Lore: Magical Law to lawyer this up: -/+- +4 = 3, good enough He removed his spectacles to polish them and replaced them with a sigh. “In order to keep the title of Lord, one must keep their subjects content. Few monsters will consent to stop preying on humans.” “Elbridge,” Ada called out. “Do you think losing people like we do is acceptable?” Her voice was calm, controlled, and even. Maybe too even, but she couldn’t afford to let her emotions get the best of her. Not now. Elbridge stared forward, not at Ada but past her, into some unknowable distance. “I think that I’d like to finish counting the dead from our last war before we start a new one.” “Is that what they’d want?” Ada shot back. “To hear you say that you’d rather wait and mourn instead of going out to make things better?” Deep breaths, deep breaths. Getting mad would not help, anger wouldn’t help. What people needed was a reason to change, and a promise they could trust. “We can’t keep doing things like we have so far. If we do, we’ll die in the line of duty, one by one.” she said, as she stared straight at Rick. It felt like the hardest thing she’d ever done, holding his gaze as she uttered those words. “And nothing will change for the better - it’ll only get worse and worse until we’re all enslaved or dead. Think about how things were a year ago. We’ve punched every faction that used to have a claim to the city in the gut and made them reel. This is our only chance to take advantage and make things different. I want to give it a shot.” She turned to address the crowd. “Do you?” ((This is a Rapport roll to get people on board with what Ada’s selling. She rolls ++// +5 for a base of +7, but raises further with an invoke of Last Heir of House duSang to speak passionately, even through a thick veil of politesse. A result of +9 makes it a Success With Style over the base difficulty of 6!)) The attendees gave each other some meaningful looks and there were more than a few nods. Turning their small victories into a larger, and more permanent peace wasn’t a hard sell, if they could pull it off. “How?” Marcine asked. She didn’t need to be an empath to see Ada meant it, but… “It’s a nice sentiment, but you need more than that.” “There’s a lot of people who aren’t happy with the state of things in New Orleans as they are now, and it’s not just us. There’s non-humans on the other side of the fence that want things to be different, too. We won’t be able to reason with all of them, but there’s many who feel like we do. If we can convince them to choose their home over their faction, we’ll have enough of a power base to face the Fomor head on and kick them out for good, along with all the other monsters who won’t want to play by the rules. If we can make fighting for the city into an united front, the Accords’ signatories won’t have a choice but to recognize us once we present our bid with sponsors.” Ada paused for a moment to breathe and let her words sink in. “We’re not going to build a new kind of city in a day. But we absolutely can do it, and should.” “Where would you start?” Marcine asked. “She just did,” Rick muttered, too low for anyone to hear. For a moment, Ada thought about her best friend, and the stone thrumming with summer’s power that she always carried in her pocket. “The fairies have always been closest to humanity. If there’s a place to try first, it’s there.” “Nothing like starting small, eh?” said James with just a hint of sarcasm. Marcine smiled slightly. Still not specific enough, but it was something. “Good enough for now.” Clearly out of his depth, Gorden has been taking to writing down everything he’s heard in the debate going around the room in his grimoire. Nobody asked him to take minutes, but he was doing it anyway, for his own edification. Whatever they were talking about -- a nation-wide Paranet, Fomor in Florida, “Unseelie Accords”, “Freeholding Lords”, fairies (?!) -- was even bigger than what Danny had introduced him to. Did Sharene and Shirley learn about all of this? So when the conversation sounded like it had reached an impasse, he looked up from his writing, saw that nobody was about to speak, and cleared his throat. “And, uh, where do the non-magical people fit in with all of this?” He shrugged, and continued. “The whole reason I’m here is because a bunch of Tulane students have been dragged into these things against their will. I’d rather not have the whole city get caught the crossfire of...fairies and lords and stuff. At least not without their eyes open.” “The ones who are already a part of our world need to know too - and be offered the same choice we’re making here and now. But I don’t want to drag in the people who don’t know what the supernatural really is about,” Ada said, shaking her head, causing the golden tips of her hair to jingle as she did so. “I want everyone who’s in this to believe in what we’re doing, not just act like expendable shock troops.” “This isn’t about expendability,” Gorden countered, shaking his head with equal fervency. “This is about letting people know what’s going on when someone decides to induce a freaking Red Tide bloom in the gulf. They’re already being victimized--” he remembered the professor “--or, heck, getting caught up in it. The least we can do is think about how...whatever happens here will affect them, as well.” “Most people don't want to know, man,” replied James, “The majority of people would rather rationalize it all away than admit that there's a supernatural world out there that they don't understand, filled with hungry predators.” With a pensive glance downwards, he added, “Trust me, I've tried. It's not worth it.” “Knowing about a world where strength is the only law and you're at the bottom of the food chain isn't a blessing, it's a burden,” Ada said, nodding in agreement. “I can explain more later, but...would you want to live in constant fear of being eaten, if you had a choice?” “We’re not all a bunch of sissies,” Bigsby said, crossing his arms. “I don’t mind what you’ve been sayin’ so far girl, but don’t lump all of us regular folks together neither. A shotgun’s as good as a fireball when it comes down to it.” “I didn't mean to make it sound like a putdown,” Ada said, nodding in agreement. “But the way I see it, our world is like a house. You wouldn't invite people to it if you hadn't cleaned it in months...and right now, it's an absolute mess.” She smiled. “It's just polite to not bring people in until it's clean.” “Some people would be willing to fight back,” Marcine said. “The trick is finding them. Because you don’t want to be wrong about who can handle it.” Which was something they weren’t going to figure out in a general group meeting. “One goes to war with the army one has, not the army one wants,” Elbridge said sagely, recomposing himself after his moment of painful recollection. “So take a lesson from the late Harry Dresden, and get your bloody army in order before you go starting any wars.” For a moment, as she listened to his words, Ada's smile faltered, but soon it broadened once again. There was a lot she wanted to say to Elbridge, but being a leader meant knowing how to lock her heart away any time it wanted to break. “That's good advice,” she said, nodding. “I'll keep it in mind.”
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Nov 27, 2018 23:22
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The Odd Couple Scene: Voodoo Shop Rick couldn’t help watching Ada talk to her little group of co-conspirators near the window. She was so animated, completely in her element, that she didn’t even notice him until they’d all gone. For a second she held him captive with those anxious green eyes, but then he shook his head and walked away, fists clenched tight at his side. You had no right to use me like that, as a recruitment poster for your little revolution. How many of your new friends will be around next year, Ada? And when they're gone, are you gonna use their deaths like you just did mine? Screw you for that, and for acting like you have all the answers. Screw them for believing it, too. Screw me for perking my ears up like a puppy the second you whistled, and screw me even harder for letting myself follow you around all day instead of getting my house back. He found the man he was looking for near the dessert table, observing Elbridge’s defense lesson from behind a paper plate stacked with beignets, and cruised towards him like a targeted missile. “Hey, Cantor.” Nicky nearly dropped his plate in shock. “C-Cole!” Rick looked up at him and smiled. He always forgot that Cantor was taller than he was because the scrawny wizard had a habit of leaning away from whoever he was talking to. “How’ve you been?” “Um, fine, I guess. Y-you?” The last time they’d spoken to each other, Rick had still been alive. But Nicky looked too shaken to joke about it, so he tried to be reassuring instead. “I’m okay,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my stuff.” “Oh, r-right. I haven’t thrown anything away, don’t worry. It’s all boxed up down in the lab.” Cantor had picked up the lease on Rick’s office from the White Council and moved in before anyone knew Rick was still around to object. It was one of the main reasons he was still crashing on Marcine’s kitchen counter. “Thanks, I appreciate that a lot,” Rick said, seriously. “But I still have to go through it. I can probably donate most of my clothes, you know?” Cantor set his plate down and dusted the powdered sugar off his hands. “Yeah, I guess so. We should work out a date for Hardley and Marcine to come over.” “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. But… well, there’s something else.” Nicky blinked owlishly at him through round spectacles. “What?” Rick took a deep breath. “I’d like to move back into the office.” The noise that issued from Nicky’s throat would have better fit a mouse than a man. “Oh no! No I don’t think so,” he stammered. “No, that won’t do at all.” “What, you’ve never had a roommate before?” Rick asked, trying his best to sound harmless. “I promise not to eat anything in the fridge. You won’t even see me if you don’t want to.” “That’s the problem!” Nicky protested. “Cole, ghosts aren’t flatmates, they haunt things, and I can’t live in a haunted flat. I’ll have a nervous breakdown. My doctor would be absolutely against it.” Rick crossed his arms. “Well, your doctor would be against you jumping timelines and moving to America, too.” Nicky bit his lip, as if he hadn’t realized that and was now fretting over it. “Don’t worry about it,” Rick said, trying to keep the nervous man focused. “It’s an adventure, and part of adventuring is trying new things, like having a roommate.” “But…” “Why don’t we just test it for a week, and if it’s really that difficult after one week, we’ll reassess.” Nicky might be timid, but he wasn’t stupid. “Reassess… you mean you’ll leave, yes?” “It’s my house,” Rick said firmly. “Not anymore,” Nicky argued. “You died, Cole. I signed the lease. It’s my house now, and the threshold proves it. You wouldn’t be asking me if you didn’t need permission to enter.” Rick scowled at him. “There are ways around thresholds.” “See!” Nicky pointed at him. “This is what I’m talking about. Ghosts are unpredictable and v-violent, always knocking into things, I won’t have it.” “I’m not a ghost, Cantor,” Rick said, facepalming. “That’s just what a ghost would say,” Nicky muttered. “Especially a crazy ghost who floats around manifested and talking to people. It’s unnatural.” Rick was very glad he could no longer develop headaches. “Look, ask Anna, she’s an ectomancer. Or Hardley if you want a Council opinion. They’ll both confirm it. I’m a bound soul, not a crazy ghost.” “Bound…” Nicky said slowly. Rick could almost hear the gears ticking between his ears. “Oh! To the sword. Is that why Marcine has it? I was wondering how you managed to get in, it being broad daylight outside and all.” “Yeah,” Rick said, smiling widely. He’d just realized what had suddenly piqued Nicky’s curiosity. “Golems run on soul bindings, don’t they? Artificial souls, but same premise.” “They’re not artificial, so much as… well it’s a long story.” Nicky puffed. “But… yes, very similar in premise. I haven’t had the good fortune to examine a proper vessel.” “They’re pretty rare,” Rick said, in a tone of voice perfected on used car lots across the country. “This might be a once in a lifetime opportunity to get your hands on one. As long as you don’t try to er… undo the binding, that is,” he made sure to add. “I wouldn’t do anything to damage it,” Nicky said, aghast. “I’d just like to look at it.” He licked his lips nervously. “Well... I suppose a week would be enough time.” “To assess?” Rick asked. “To assess,” Nicky said, nodding. “Perfect,” Rick grinned from ear to ear. “I’ll go tell Marcine.”
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Nov 29, 2018 18:21
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“...Aah! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!” The first thing Ada noticed when she woke up was the contact - someone was touching her cheek. The second thing she noticed was that she was screaming, so loudly her throat was starting to hurt. Only after understanding that did the haze of sleep slide from her eyes - and she realized her hands were around Ruby’s throat, desperately trying to choke the life out of her, and that Emma was trying as best as she could to pry her off. It took her brain a second to make sense of what she was seeing, but as soon as she did, she let her go, and collapsed backwards against a pillow, resting on the shoulder of the couch. Trails of ice crept down her arms. Her fingers had gone totally red and numb with frostbite. “No! It’s fine, I’m fine!” Ruby croaked, rubbing her neck vigorously. Tears streaked her cheeks. “Are you sure?” Emma asked, leaving Ada to rush to her side. She turned on Ada, furious. “What the hell was that about?!” “Bad dream,” Ada replied, as she tried to wipe the ice off her arms. “Real bad. Think it turned me into a real live wire.” She was panting like a locomotive, but forced herself to take a deep breath before continuing. “Ruby...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” “But it’s my fault!” Ruby cried, burying her face in her hands. She looked so pale suddenly, as if all the colors were leaching out of her hair and skin. ((Ada’s startled reaction earns her the ire of the house, and forces her to make a Physique roll at difficult 6. A 5 barely doesn’t make it, and a raise to +8 via Under Queen Mab’s Protection forces her to take a Mild Consequence as the frost refuses to peel off so easily, Frostbite. This is a result of her compel on Life Is A Fairy Tale earlier, persuading her to eat the nightmare cookie.)) The ice would just not come off, no matter what Ada did — it clung to her, like a second skin. She had to get rid of it, fast, but taking care of her best friend came first. “It was the cookies, wasn’t it? They looked kind of...strange. Ruby, what happened with them?” she asked, as she leaned forward to pull her into a reassuring hug. Ruby pulled away. “Don’t touch me!” “What…? Why? I’m not gonna hurt you again. Promise.” “I’m the one who isn’t safe,” Ruby said miserably. “I thought I had it under control but…” “It’s her wing-dust,” Emma said, still shaken by the whole ordeal. “It must have got in the cookie batter somehow. I was only joking about them being bad, honest!” “...Wait, that was your dust? It wasn’t anything like this last time you hit me with it, though. How did you lose your grip on it?” “It’s Winter,” Ruby snarled. She wiped her tears away and her delicate hands balled into fists. “My dreams have been turned into nightmares, my peaceful death into a cold, lonely thing. I can’t stand it! This isn’t what I wanted!” “Stop. Slow down.” Ada said, raising her hands. “You mean you don't get to choose who you're going to be when changing courts? That doesn't make any sense. It's not like anybody's forcing this on you.” “Ada…” Emma cautioned. “Maybe just leave her alone for a minute? I need to go put a hot water bottle on the stove for your hands before your fingers go black.” That was Ada's cue to look down. Emma wasn't kidding - her fingertips were starting to turn blue already. She was so used to the sensation of pain that she'd forgotten that sometimes, the absence of it was just as dangerous. “Point. Can't go losing limbs willy-nilly. It'd hurt my image.” Standing up, she followed Emma to the kitchen - and once she was sure they were out of Ruby's earshot, spoke to her in hushed tones. “I really don't get it though. I saw a court transition once and the fairy it happened to change completely because we forced it on him. Why is it doing so...so…” she struggled to find the right word to describe the changes Ruby had spoken of, but nothing came to mind. “...so much to her?” “She hasn’t accepted it yet,” Emma said, filling a rubber bottle with water and setting it in a cast iron pot to boil. It took her a moment to check if the burner was going, as she wasn’t entirely comfortable yet with modern technology like electric stoves. “You can’t follow Summer and Winter Law at the same time. If you saw a faerie transition all at once, then you saw them surrender to being bound by the opposite law. It’s pretty fast once they make up their minds. Right now, Summer has expelled Ruby, and Winter has offered her a place, but she’s afraid of what taking that offer will do. So she’s doing it in little pieces, like… like tearing off a bandage very slowly. It’s torture and I wish she’d just rip it off all the way. Without Summer’s power she can’t stay how she was no matter how much she wants to.” “And just telling her it's OK and we'll be there for her isn't really making a difference, either. Hmm.” For a moment, Ada rested her chin against her hand...then quickly pulled it back, as soon as the chill hit her. “There's gotta be something in particular she's afraid of. She said she thought she had her powers under control now. Did she have an incident before this?” “I guess that depends what you’d call an ‘incident’,” Emma said. She took one of Ada’s hands and cupped it between both of hers, rubbing gently. “But she got really scared after her last job, I guess he wasn’t the kind of client she’s used to.” Emma’s touch couldn’t wipe away the frost - but the contact still helped keep Ada’s mind off it anyway. “Yeah? What happened? Ruby’s never told me much about her gigs.” “She didn’t tell me much either, but it’s not like her to be upset over work. She’s been doing it for a long time.” The bottle was done, and Emma got up to wrap it in a hand towel and handed it to Ada. “‘He struggled.’ That’s all she said.” It wasn’t much to go off of, but even that little nugget of information was enough to help things start to make more sense. Ruby had always taken pride in being the banshee of gentle deaths. Seeing someone fight their end when she was there...it must’ve been a hell of a shock. As she wrapped the rubber bottle around her frostbitten hands, it suddenly occurred to Ada that she probably would’ve felt just as scared if her magic had totally shorted out on her out of the blue. Its gradual disappearance had made its loss easy to bear - but Ruby hadn’t had that kind of luxury. “Think she’s feeling good enough by now we can get back to her?” she asked, shooting the kitchen door a look. She couldn’t keep a grimace off her face as sensation returned to her fingers - and with it, all too familiar pains and aches, like electric jolts - or perhaps more like a million sharp little stabs. At least it was something she was used to. Emma nodded. “I think we’d better.” --- Ruby was lying on the couch, all curled up into a ball. She was clutching one of the pillows so hard the fabric was starting to tear. When the other two entered the room she sat up, looking hard at Ada’s hands. “Better?” she asked, worried. “Lots,” she replied, sitting beside her. “Still hurts like hell, though,” she admitted, allowing herself to wince. “How about you?” Ruby just shook her head. “Yeah. Thought so.” The next question was going to be a delicate one. She was gonna have to be real careful about it. “It’s not just the cookies that got you feeling so down, is it? Did something else happen when you started to change?” Ruby nodded. That was Ada’s cue to keep going. “When I fought my duel with the witch Circe, I had to make a choice too, but I never told you what it was.” She looked away. This kind of confession couldn’t be made face to face. “I killed someone innocent. It was my last test and I passed with flying colours. I didn’t sleep for weeks, but that wasn’t the worst of it - it’s that something inside me woke, or broke up, or...something. I don’t know what.” She drew a deep, deep breath before continuing. “I’m not half as good a girl as everyone thinks I am. I didn’t wake up screaming from that nightmare because it got too crazy for me. I woke up because it got too real, because it was showing me a part of myself I don’t want to see.” “What part?” Ruby asked quietly. “The monster I carry with me. The one that gives me the strength to look the devil in the eye and spit in his face. The one that doesn't care if everyone I love gets hurt, as long as I get what I need. Is that what embracing Winter feels like to you? Like stirring the monster awake?” “A little,” she said, also looking away. “I always knew I was a monster, even though my nature led to a kinder death than most. Death is still death, I am of it, and it of me. No one had any expectations otherwise. I was chided for being weak, letting my targets linger… But as long as Summer offered me a place I could afford to do my job as I chose. The Morrigan could not ask me to be swift and brutal, that was not my death. Now though, I’ve lost that shelter. My new assignments have been of Winter, people who struggle and cry. People who hated their lives and yet cling to them. Their spirits no longer welcome me to take them home, they curse me and spit at my feet… The death I am becoming is miserable and alone, unfulfilled, and hunted.” “Like you felt before we went back to the past?” Ada asked, struck by inspiration. “I am not unaware of the similarity,” Ruby said, gritting her teeth. “That's not who you are now, though. I bet these transformations don't come out of thin air. If humans can choose who they become, then so can fairies too. You just need to get in contact with another part of you.” “What part of me can live as a Winter fae that is not steeped in darkness? There is no way out of this. Even my cookies were twisted.” “The part that hid herself for a hundred years to protect her loved ones,” Ada countered. “You said that the people you saw died kicking and screaming, and the deaths of Summer were peaceful. If Winter is a source of strength then don't fight it, embrace it. You're strong enough to represent a death more dignified than that.” “I don’t know, Ada. This is such a departure. A death of one’s own choosing, facing darkness in defense of others… These deaths will be violent and painful, and often futile.” She raised her head and looked Ada in the eyes. “Is that dignified?” More like pointless and stupid. It's the exact kind of death Rick had, and the one I've been trying like hell to get away from. Those were the thoughts that crossed Ada's mind as she pondered Ruby's question, fueled by anger and spite. But her reply was different. “Yeah. We all wish they didn't happen, and I'm working towards making sure no one has to go like that...but until I can make it happen, everyone who dies like that will have died a good death, especially if you're there for them.” She smiled. “I'm just gonna have to put you out of a job ASAP so you don't have to see it too often.” “You’re lying to me,” Ruby said, her eyes welling up again. “If it was a good death, you wouldn’t shy away from it so. I could not bear it if I were the avatar of a death you despise.” Dammit. She knew her too well. There was no way to lie to Ruby and make it sound sincere. A sigh escaped Ada's lips as the realization sunk in. “What's a good death like, though? When you die, there's no more laughing. No more love. Not even pain from thawing out the frostbite to tell you your fingers are alright. Death's the end of every good thing even if you go out on top of the world. I couldn't even tell you how I want to go, because I just don't want to. I wanna spend time with the people I love until the stars go out.” Kicking her legs out, Ada sank into the couch and stared at the ceiling, as if she could see the sky beyond it. “But I know something, and it's that you're one of those people I want to spend so much time with. I don't care what you take up as your duties to Winter, Ruby. If there's a good death out there, you'll always be the one for me.” “Part of the reason I befriended you was that I knew that my death would never be yours,” Ruby admitted, staring squarely at her lap. “I have no wish to be the one who comes for you, Ada. But now I am afraid. Those who cursed me and clung to life would say much the same as you just have.” “Some people just won't go quietly,” Ada agreed, nodding. “Instead of hearing the announcement of their deaths and coming to terms with it, they'll take it as a challenge.” Maybe that was it, though. It was kind of a longshot, but there was nothing to lose from asking. “Ruby, has a banshee's prediction ever turned out to be wrong?” Ruby nodded. “A prediction is merely a probability, of course there are people who defy the odds. Not many, though.” “How'd you feel about taking that job then? The death that challenges. Don't just look for the people who don't want to die - look for the ones that will beat the odds and escape their dooms.” Ada smiled again - this time, much more warmly. “Like you did going back in time to save your family without losing yourself.” Emma sighed and crossed her arms. “That’s like deciding to be the janitor of the cleanest bathrooms, or the salesman at an empty store. It’s just being lazy and dodging the work.” “She’s right,” Ruby agreed. “I’m sorry Ada I don’t think you can help me this time. This just isn’t something you can relate to.” “Yeah, well, tell me something,” Ada said, crossing her arms in turn. “You ever met anyone who enjoyed life and still would've chosen to die anyway? I'm not alone here. Death isn't something people want. It's just something that happens…” She trailed off mid-sentence. Something that happens. That wasn't wrong, but it was missing the bigger picture. Death wasn't just something that happened, it was something that had to happen, completely unavoidable no matter who you were. “Maybe that's it,” she mumbled, then raised her voice. “Wait a minute. Ruby, why does death have to happen? Humor me for a second on this.” Ruby sighed. “How can I answer such a question? I’m no god.” Ada waved her hand, dismissively. “Gods can buzz off. They wouldn't understand why this is so hard for us anyway. I was just thinking...I was right. No one *wants* to die, but it happens anyway. Maybe it's because you've lived too long, maybe it's ‘cause someone wants you dead, maybe it's just sheer bad luck, but no matter what, the end result is the same. Things end, because it's time for something else to take their place.” “Progress is a mortal concept, given urgency by death. It may seem cruel, but without it humanity would never have come so far so quickly.” Ruby said. “The immortal are not fond of change.” “Yeah, exactly. Can you imagine if people could age forever without dying? You'd end up with the world ruled by old dinosaurs forever, just because they got there first.” Exactly like the White Council, now that she thought about it. “If every death is a change, maybe asking how to keep it gentle is the wrong question. What kind of change do you want...no, what kind of change do you NEED to see?” “That’s certainly a novel way to think of it,” Ruby said. She didn’t sound sure but it had at least piqued her interest. “It’s something I’ll have to consider carefully before answering.” “There's no rush,” Ada said, nodding in agreement. “I think it's the way to go though. Death is the end of the road for the one on the receiving end of it, but the world keeps on rolling. It's better to focus on that than trying to soften the blow.” “Maybe… But in any case, advising me with my Winter troubles was not why you came.” “What, you don't like it when I look after you?” Ada asked, flashing her a positively malicious grin. Ruby flushed. “Ada, I am two hundred years your senior, not a lost kitten.” “Alright, grandma, I promise I'll try and respect my elders a little more.” She gave Ruby a little time to pout before continuing, now serious. “I got things underway. Pitched my ideas for kicking the powers that be off the throne to a mortal crowd. I think they bought it, but we're still really short on people and support. Pontchartrain has to go, but if we're gonna make it happen we'll need fey support. You know anyone who might be up for turning their backs on him if given the right incentive?” “Oh wonderful, on top of everything else you want me to plan a coup.” She sighed. “Luckily this is an easy one. Anyone who held power under Narcissus and wants it back would be more than happy to plant a dagger in the River King. Of course, throwing in with traitors means trusting people who will have no qualms about betraying you too, when the wind changes.” “Right. Which means making sure they can't do it. Is there any other way of binding a fairy besides having them give their word?” “None save cold iron, which you must not do. Little brings the courts together save for punishment of someone who abuses the Bane against us.” She touched her arm gingerly, the scars left by her encounter with Yggdrasil were still a puckered pink against her pale skin. “Which means I gotta do things the hard way,” Ada said as she rubbed her temples. “Why am I not surprised?” So most summer allies would at best support her out of convenience, at least at first. If she wanted to prevent any backstabbing, she'd have to keep them on a tight leash. “What about Winter's delegates? Meet any of them that might be interested? If we can get people from both courts in on this, that might help keep them both in check.” Ruby considered it. “If you throw in with one it will be much harder to approach the other,” she said after some thought. “There are fewer of them and they are not as strong, but their interest in undermining Pontchartrain is more…” she trailed off, not sure how to finish. “Certain? Simpler? Less like to lead to an immediate civil war once we've toppled the old man?” Ada volunteered. “Honest,” Emma supplied. “And the River King just led a coup himself, you’d be crazy to think he’s not watching Narcissus’ former lieutenants like a hawk. You start talking to them and he’s gonna notice.” Ruby nodded. “Ada, you should talk to Marcine about this. She would know more about Summer’s current movements than we, and she has friends that are still at court.” “Yeah. I'll see what she thinks about all this and work out an angle. Is there anything I should know about dealing with fairies I may not be aware of?” “I could fill books with what you should know about dealing with faeries dear one,” Ruby said, smiling a little for the first time since Ada woke up. “But it would only muddle the issue. Be true to yourself and don’t get caught up in courtly politics. Politicians serve only their own interests, no matter how much they may claim to align with yours.” “You do realize I pretty much count as one now, right?” Ada said, briefly grinning back before giving her a nod. “But yeah, I hear you. I won’t let my guard down.” Seeing Ruby's frown turn upside down had lifted a weight from Ada's shoulders. Her problems weren't over yet, not by a long shot, but knowing what kind of help her friend needed meant she had some sort of direction to follow now. How was she supposed to help her get used to her new role, though? Emma and Ruby had been right about one thing - death did not belong with her, at all. What kind of miracle had taken place, for her to end up with a banshee as her best friend? For the first time, it felt like there was a gap between them. Just as one had formed her and Rick, between her and her father... ...She couldn’t keep herself from shivering. This wasn’t a first step up the mountain. She couldn’t let it be. There had to be a way to keep everyone close to her without cutting them with a knife’s edge, and she’d find it. Hopefully.
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Jan 11, 2019 05:08
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Gone Home Scene: Nicky’s Flat There was a smiling middle-aged woman waiting for Nicky in a beat up old Cadillac in the parking lot when he left the meeting. She waved enthusiastically at him and he waved back as best he could while carrying a plate of desserts and cradling the sword in both arms. (He didn’t have a belt on, and had been aghast when Marcine suggested he borrow hers for the day.) He got the car door open somehow and sat down, tucking the weapon in between the seats. “Hi Michelle,” he said, awfully glad to see her. Getting around New Orleans without a car was expensive unless you had friends. “Hey, Nicholas. Where’d you get that?” “I won it in a r-raffle,” Nicky said, cringing. “It’s just a toy… er, a replica? Something like that.” Michelle looked at it thoughtfully. “Really? I swear I’ve seen it before...” “Brownie?” Nicky offered her the paper plate as a distraction, which she accepted gladly and they started to chatter amicably about nothing important as she pulled out of the parking lot. --- Rick, stuck in the sword in-between the seats (as it was still the middle of the afternoon,) was sure he’d heard Michelle’s voice before but he couldn’t remember where. He also couldn’t see her from his position, which didn’t help identify her at all. The drive back to the office took some time. Michelle kept asking Nicky questions about what Edinburgh was like which he seemed more than happy to answer. He asked her in turn about her family and how her children were doing and Rick started to tune all of it out. It had been a very long day for him, and as much as he hated to admit it, he only really felt whole while he was inside the sword. He relaxed, letting his mind wander, and soon drifted off into something like sleep. --- He started awake under the wan light of the fishbowl lamp. Had he fallen asleep at his workbench again? The lab didn’t look right… boxes and furniture everywhere, you couldn’t even get to the containment circles. When had he done that? He tried to push away from countertop and his hands phased right through it. He stared at them in confusion for a second before his memory caught up to the rest of him. “Oh. Right.” For just one moment, he’d almost been able to convince himself it had all been a bad dream. He brushed his fingers against the cuff of his favorite shirt, hanging over the edge of a tub full of clothes. He’d told Nicky he’d go through things, but now that he was standing there, staring at the stacks of boxes that held everything that mattered to him, he wasn’t sure he could do it. Clearly though, someone else already had, and that made a little knot twist in his stomach. He would have liked to have opened a few boxes, to make sure everything really was still there, but even fully manifested he wouldn’t be able to touch anything. The inventory would have to wait. That just left the stairs. He grit his teeth and started up them, two at a time. Some bandaids just had to be ripped off. The door at the top was shut, but he phased through that and into the main office with no trouble. Then he stopped short and stared at a room he barely recognized. “I… what...” There was an ancient, pedal operated sewing machine sitting where his desk used to be, a half-finished shirt still tucked under the needle. The phone table by the back window was missing, and that whole area of the room was taken up by a huge loom. Bolts of cloth and bins of thread filled the space where his filing cabinets used to sit. The old couch where he’d spent all those nights snuggled up to Ada had been replaced by an honest-to-God spinning wheel. Next to that was a round rack of finished scarves, jackets, and shirts, all with dangling price tags. A counter had been set up with a cash register next to the front door. The gold letters on the smoked glass window that used to read ‘Warden’s Office’ had been removed and replaced by a new name in a flowing metallic pink script. “A Stitch in Time - Commissions, Alterations, and Repairs,” he read aloud. “Mrrow,” said a fluffy orange and white cat, curled up on the window ledge next to the loom. Rick stared at it. The cat stared back at him with bright green eyes. “Cole? Is that you?” Nicky emerged from the kitchen, wiping dust onto a pink plaid apron he was wearing over his clothes. “What did you do to my office?” Rick said, stunned. Nicky didn’t give any indication that he could hear him. He looked around the room at every place except the spot where Rick was standing. “Er, if it is you, can you give me some sort of sign?” Rick didn’t answer. He couldn’t believe this. Every trace of his existence here was gone, even the peg where he used to hang his cloak had been taken off the wall. A black hole opened in his chest and threatened to swallow him. Nicky had been absolutely right. This wasn’t his home anymore. He didn’t have a home anymore. “Mrrr,” the cat said, threading between his legs. When had it gotten off the ledge? It leaned against his boot and looked up at him expectantly. “What do you want?” he asked it. Everyone knew cats could see ghosts… Had Nicky really gotten one just to keep tabs on him? But when had he found the time? The cat pawed at his pant leg. He could feel the warmth of its fur, but the paw went straight through him. It was an odd sensation. Nicky sighed, frustrated, and opened the basement door. The stairs creaked as he headed down, and it wasn’t long before Rick felt his hand on the hilt of the sword. It was a light touch, like having someone tap him on the arm to draw his attention. “Are you awake?” Nicky’s voice echoed up the stairs, and also in the back of his head. He could always hear what was happening near the sword if he concentrated. “I’m here,” he called back. No point pretending to be invisible, as long as Nicky held the sword in hand he could see and hear Rick perfectly well. The stairs creaked again. “Oh! Finally, I was starting to get worried.” “Why?” he glanced out the window, now noticing that it was fully dark out. “It’s only been a few hours.” Nicky blinked at him. “Cole, it’s been two days.” “No.” Rick shook his head. “We were just in the car…” “Two days ago, yes,” Nicky said. “I er, I asked Hardley what to do when you didn’t wake up that night and he said to just let you sleep it off. So I’ve been getting the house ready.” Rick clutched his head and stumbled as a wave of vertigo washed over him. He’d lost time again, like he had right after his awakening. Was this how things were going to be every time he got tired? Slipping out of consciousness for days, having no idea how long the gap would be? “God… drat it.” He couldn’t handle this all at once. Without thinking, he turned towards the other staircase. The bedroom would help ground him. His bed and dresser weren’t in the basement so they must still be up there, and seeing something still in its place, even just one thing… “Cole, wait!” Nicky shouted, chasing after him. “You can’t-” Rick ignored him, but when he put his hand on the bannister it shocked him as though he’d just touched a live wire. He yelped in alarm, and only then saw the glowing cyan runes ringing the stairwell. He turned on Nicky, clutching his stinging hand. “You warded the loving stairs?” “Y-yes!” Nicky squeaked. “There’s no reason for you to go up there. It’s just my bedroom and the WC, and you don’t n-need either of those.” “That’s not the point!” Rick yelled. “I’m not going to spy on you in the bathroom, Cantor!” “Well I should hope not! B-but I don’t have to worry about it this way, and it just makes me feel safer to have my own space!” He paused to calm himself and took a deep breath. “I won’t go downstairs unless you ask me to, if you’d like.” “I don’t want to divide up the house,” Rick said, shoulders slumping. He looked down at the floor. “That’s not what I wanted at all… I just… Did you have to get rid of everything?” “Cole…” Nicky shook his head and sighed. “I haven’t gotten rid of a single thing, I swear. It’s all there. But I wanted to discuss it with you before I started dragging the furniture back upstairs. I don’t know what matters to you and it’s all heavy!” “...you did?” “Of course!” He threw up his hands. “What did you think I was going to do? Shut you in a cupboard somewhere and not let you have any say in things? I know we aren’t very good friends yet but please do think better of me than that.” Rick’s cheeks flushed. “Well if warding the stairs and buying a cat are how you get the house ready for a ghostly roommate, what am I supposed to think?” “Don’t you drag Marmalade into this.” Nicky wagged a finger at him. “He’s been here for a month and I’ve got his adoption papers to prove it.” “Mrrraow,” said Marmalade. The fluffy orange beast looped around Nicky’s legs once and then went back to weave through Rick’s as if he would like it very much for them to stop yelling at each other. “You don’t get to talk. You’re an accomplice,” Rick scolded it. Then, the ridiculousness of the conversation caught up to him and he started laughing. It was a shallow, helpless kind of laugh, but it helped him let go of some of the tension he’d been holding inside since he first saw the box piles. After a moment he went down on one knee and offered his hand for Marmalade to sniff. “Sorry, cat.” Marmalade sniffed amicably and then flopped over on his back to demand belly scritches. Rick obliged. His hand didn’t disturb the cat’s fur, but it started purring all the same. Nicky watched the cat’s acceptance of Rick thoughtfully. “You know, the stair wards weren’t what I meant by getting the house ready.” “What did you mean then?” Rick asked, standing up again and brushing off his hands. Nicky turned towards the kitchen and waved for him to follow. It wasn’t a very large kitchen but Nicky had made the most of his space. Green glass bottles, iron filings, basil, and a few other ingredients were set on one side of the counter next to a jumbo sized mortar and pestle. On the other side was a mason jar half-filled with an odd looking sparkling green dust. “Is that what I think it is?” Rick asked, staring dumbfounded at the green glassware. It was also known as Vaseline glass, or Depression glass, and was famous for having trace amounts of Uranium in it. “Raw materials for ghost dust,” Nicky confirmed, smiling. “It’s so much easier to get legally on this side of the pond! Still, not the easiest recipe, and inhaling ground glass would be a frightful way to go so I’ve had to work slowly for safety. But I’ve finished enough to paint the doorknobs and the light switches already.” Rick stared at the kitchen light switch. It didn’t look any different... Or was there a faint sparkle that hadn’t been there before? Hand shaking, he reached for it. flick The lights went out. flick They came back on. He could touch it. It was real and he could touch it. His fingers burned slightly, ghost dust in large quantities would ignite when exposed to a spirit, but just a little was enough to make something tangible. flick. flick. flick. flick. “Why go through all that trouble?” he asked, reaching for one of the kitchen drawers. It slid open when he pulled on it, and his vision blurred. “I don’t need the lights… I can just walk through the doors… So you didn’t need to...” “Because people ought to be able to turn on their lights and open their doors,” Nicky said, as if that were obvious. He picked up one of the green bottles and looked into it. “My brother… had Lou Gehrig's disease. As it progressed, he lost the ability to do even the smallest things for himself. At first he couldn’t walk down stairs, or carry his groceries. Then he couldn’t shave. Eventually he couldn’t even open a door, or flick a light switch. So I made him things to help cope. I saw how much it hurt him to lose that. To feel helpless and crippled, like he wasn’t even a real person.” Nicky set the glass down. Hesitantly, he offered the sword to Rick, hilt first. “Everyone ought to be able to move their own body.” Rick stared at him, not daring to hope. “What did you do to me?” “I had the leather treated and rewrapped,” Nicky said. “Go ahead. Take it.” Rick’s hand closed around the grip of the sword and he drew the blade himself for the first time since he’d died. He tried to choke back a sob, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer. The whisper of steel was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “Cantor… Thank you.”
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Jan 12, 2019 02:31
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