@MadEmperor @Imperfect_M

[Continued from here]

---

It was well passed noon by the time the maid who had brought their tea came into the parlor to inform Grav and Kiara that Lord and Lady Hallis had located an alchemist in the city who may be able to assist them.

"She's being escorted here," she explained, "should be due at the front door within the hour. Lord Hallis will introduce you when she arrives."

As she ducked her head and scurried back out, Kiara gave a low sigh of relief and shot Grav a quick smile. "Thank gods. Shouldn't be too much longer now and someone will be able to take a proper look at you."

The parlor they were seated in had a wide window along one wall that allowed them to see out onto the lane that led up to the townhouse's front door, and Kiara shifted a bit on the chaise to try to get a better view, one leg jiggling anxiously as they waited.

[@visualspice]

---

Ten years ago...

---

The sea was magnificent.

"How did it take me so long to see this?" Dusk murmured to herself as she simply stood and stared in wonder at the seemingly endless stretch of blue-gray-green that rolled away to the horizon. She liked to think she had seen quite a few wonderous things since she left La'marri two years ago, both magical and entirely mundane. But this...

There was really nothing like it.

She could have stood and stared for the rest of the day--for several days, if she was being honest--were it not for the insistent reminder from her stomach that she hadn't actually eaten since early that morning, and she'd spent the day on the road. The fishing village that had been her goal when she set out around dawn was within sight--there wasn't much foot traffic, but she could see a few dinghies out in the water, and some people milling about between the buildings.

Hopefully she had enough coin on her for a meal and a place to sleep...

"Excuse me?" She tried to catch the attention of the nearest person who didn't seem actively engaged in something else. "Um, p-pardon, but do you have a moment?"

The fisherman barely glanced up from the knife he was using to clean under his nails. "Eh?"

She summoned up her friendliest smile. "Hello! I, ah, I'm n-not from around here, I was wondering, could you t-tell me where I might find a meal?"

He jerked his head toward one of the larger buildings set further back from the shoreline. "Tavern's that way. Might even got rooms, if you've coin."

"Thank you very much!" She smiled again, hovering awkwardly for a moment. When the man just gave her a grunt and a nod, she took that as a dismissal and hurried away toward the tavern he had indicated. She was starving, and the idea of a bowl of fresh food--anything she hadn't had to forage for herself--was near blissful. She was so wrapped up in the idea of it that she almost missed the voice coming from the narrow alley just behind the tavern.

Almost.

"I told ya, I don't have it."

She froze. That--that sounded like trouble. Oh dear. She hesitated, unsure what she should do--her ambient sense of emotions roiled uncomfortably, telling her there was a lot of anger and fear in closer proximity.

"You pay for the goods you got, that's all I can do," the voice continued.

"That ain't good enough," a new voice snarled, and Dusk actually shivered at the sound. She looked around, wide-eyed, unsure what to do. Should she tell someone? This was--

"Oi!"

The new voice was suddenly directed at her. She froze, eyes blown even wider, and just stared as a figure detached itself from the wall of the alley and started toward her. "You evesdroppin', stranger?"

"N-n-n-no." She took a step back. She hadn't even realized she'd moved closer to the voices when she first heard them--damnit, she'd gotten caught up in the emotional aura. "S-sorry, I'll just--"

"Oh, no you don't, girlie." The second voice was suddenly behind her. She yelped and whirled around to see a man nearly two heads taller than her looming, hand moving toward a sheath at his hip. Oh dear. "Just what did you hear?"

"N-n-n-noth--"

"Bullshit."

She swallowed, eyes darting around frantically. Without her even realizing, the two men had backed her into the alley. She was trapped.

[@visualspice]

---

Ten years ago...

---

The sea was magnificent.

"How did it take me so long to see this?" Dusk murmured to herself as she simply stood and stared in wonder at the seemingly endless stretch of blue-gray-green that rolled away to the horizon. She liked to think she had seen quite a few wonderous things since she left La'marri two years ago, both magical and entirely mundane. But this...

There was really nothing like it.

She could have stood and stared for the rest of the day--for several days, if she was being honest--were it not for the insistent reminder from her stomach that she hadn't actually eaten since early that morning, and she'd spent the day on the road. The fishing village that had been her goal when she set out around dawn was within sight--there wasn't much foot traffic, but she could see a few dinghies out in the water, and some people milling about between the buildings.

Hopefully she had enough coin on her for a meal and a place to sleep...

"Excuse me?" She tried to catch the attention of the nearest person who didn't seem actively engaged in something else. "Um, p-pardon, but do you have a moment?"

The fisherman barely glanced up from the knife he was using to clean under his nails. "Eh?"

She summoned up her friendliest smile. "Hello! I, ah, I'm n-not from around here, I was wondering, could you t-tell me where I might find a meal?"

He jerked his head toward one of the larger buildings set further back from the shoreline. "Tavern's that way. Might even got rooms, if you've coin."

"Thank you very much!" She smiled again, hovering awkwardly for a moment. When the man just gave her a grunt and a nod, she took that as a dismissal and hurried away toward the tavern he had indicated. She was starving, and the idea of a bowl of fresh food--anything she hadn't had to forage for herself--was near blissful. She was so wrapped up in the idea of it that she almost missed the voice coming from the narrow alley just behind the tavern.

Almost.

"I told ya, I don't have it."

She froze. That--that sounded like trouble. Oh dear. She hesitated, unsure what she should do--her ambient sense of emotions roiled uncomfortably, telling her there was a lot of anger and fear in closer proximity.

"You pay for the goods you got, that's all I can do," the voice continued.

"That ain't good enough," a new voice snarled, and Dusk actually shivered at the sound. She looked around, wide-eyed, unsure what to do. Should she tell someone? This was--

"Oi!"

The new voice was suddenly directed at her. She froze, eyes blown even wider, and just stared as a figure detached itself from the wall of the alley and started toward her. "You evesdroppin', stranger?"

"N-n-n-no." She took a step back. She hadn't even realized she'd moved closer to the voices when she first heard them--damnit, she'd gotten caught up in the emotional aura. "S-sorry, I'll just--"

"Oh, no you don't, girlie." The second voice was suddenly behind her. She yelped and whirled around to see a man nearly two heads taller than her looming, hand moving toward a sheath at his hip. Oh dear. "Just what did you hear?"

"N-n-n-noth--"

"Bullshit."

She swallowed, eyes darting around frantically. Without her even realizing, the two men had backed her into the alley. She was trapped

@visualspice

---

In, two, three; out, two, three...

Adelaide Alamoch daintily placed one foot in front of the other as she made her way carefully across the practice rope two of her fellow troupe members had erected just within view of the road. It wasn't anything like a highwire--maybe ten feet off the ground--but they'd still insisted on putting up the safety net before letting her up to work on her routine.

She hadn't been working at the tightrope long, but she'd thought it could be an interesting addition to her act. Maybe start on the wire, do some sort of prat fall, catch the trapeze on her way down...

"We need some music!" Carlotta, a middle aged woman who worked mainly with costuming but was seemingly putting her talents to set-pitching this bright, breezy day, called out suddenly from where she was helping three other people begin pitching the merchants' and single-patron talents' tents. At least, the ones whose owners were too busy spreading word in the nearby city to pitch themselves.

Adelaide smiled even as she rose up onto her toe and spun to face the opposite direction from the center of the rope. It trembled treacherously beneath her, but she refused to lose her step. Breathe. In, two, three, out, two, three...

"Where's the fae lad when you need him?" Snake called back in mild agreement from where he was busy juggling half a dozen blades--not juggling literally, though Adelaide had certainly seen him do that more than once, not even always as part of the show. He seemed to be helping their old smith, Reth, move his stores.

"I do believe he's rehearsing," she called down from her perch, delciately placing  one foot down in front of the other. She paused, then lifted her leg into a swift, graceful arabesque before letting gravity take her--just for a moment--and falling sideways just far enough to catch herself with the crook of her left knee around the rope.

"Rehearsing," Carlotta scoffed. "I swear, the way he and Elea carry on, it's a miracle they have anything to perform."

A round of raucous but not mean-spirited laughter followed her quip. Even Adelaide found herself chuckling a bit, despite the blush that lit her cheeks at the innuendo.

"Speaking of rehearsals," Snake drawled, with such a telegraphed glance upward that Adelaide had absolutely no hope of missing it. "I thought you were on leave for the next two days."

She crinkled her nose at him upside down. "Maybe I like spending my leave right here," she pointed out mildly.

The contortionist gave her a very dry look, even as she started to curl herself back up to grip her rope and lay herself out flat on her back. "We don't have a real show until the full moon--Uthlyn is barely an hour's walk! You could go see the city you know, instead of insisting on spending every waking hour here."

"I like it here," she protested.

"We are at least taking you out for the night come your birthday next week!" one of the younger seamstresses who worked under Carlotta threatened cheerfully.

Adelaide rolled her eyes and turned her head to say that she didn't need anyone taking her out for any reason, and anyway, just what was everyone so suddenly interested in her social life outside carnival grounds for, when a sudden glint from Snake's direction caught her attention. It was just a flicker, really, like light off metal at an odd angle--but it came with that tingle up the back of her neck that sometimes accompanied her Sight.

It startled her enough that she turned toward it automatically, trying to find the source. One of the blades he was carrying...a knife? What--what was that? And aura, but not fae, not demonic, not even divine, it was...

She'd moved too fast. Without her mask, the danger of her Sight and her profession collided abruptly, and she found herself tumbling down toward the earth.


Despite the presence of her safety net--which bounced her jarringly twice before she rolled off it to land less gracefully than usual on her feet--there were several gasps and at least one "Addie!" as she fell.

Thoroughly embarrassed, she immediately started waving off calls of concern, and the few carnival members who had started toward her. "Alright, I'm alright, I promise," she mumbled even as she wove around them. "Just a stupid mistake, I'm fine, sorry everyone... Snake."

The contortionist hadn't been one of their family who instantly started toward her, holding his place, but she felt the way his eyes flickered over her with concern with a strangely comforting familiarity. "You sure you're alright?" he murmured. "That looked like it bruised."

She waved him away with a smile, her own eyes searching the weaponry he still held. "It's fine, really."

Damnit. She swore she'd Seen something. Where was it? What was it?

(Continued from this thread: Stardust)

@visualspice

---

Lily was alone in her room.

This was not an uncommon occurrence, of course. Her mother's insistent worrying after her health meant that she spent quite a bit of time alone in her room, overall.

It was, however, the first time she'd been locked in.

"Jorris, please!" She pressed both palms flat to the door, pleading desperately. She didn't even know if her brother was still on the other side, but she hadn't heard him walk away after turning the key. "Please, listen to me, I'm not a mage. I promise, I'm not, please, just--please."

"I--"

Her brother's voice choked off. She heard a soft thump, and then his voice was closer, as though he was pressing his brow to the door. "I'm sorry, Lily," he murmured. "I know--I know it's not your fault. But you're dangerous. We--we need to get you help."

"No!" She reeled back, tears gathering as she began to pant, looking around wildly. As if there would be some sort of new escape presented to her. "No no no no no, you're wrong, I'm not a mage, I don't have magic, I don't have magic!"

With a scream, what had previously been a slightly overcast but ultimately pleasant enough day abruptly changed to a raging storm. All the partially-open windows of the Hartnets' townhouse were blown inward in the sudden gale, rain and wind ripping into the house as Lily wailed. Servants cried out, running for cover, Jorris and Lily's younger siblings shrieked and ran for the interior library, and Lady Hartnet--who had not moved from her bed since Jorris had sent for the authorities that morning--began to sob.

Lord Hartnet had been moving to answer their front door, expression grave and shoulders bent, when the sudden storm blew the door open and nearly knocked him ass over teakettle. He just barely managed to catch the edge of it, squinting out into the abruptly driving rain to see who had been sent to deal with their unknown, unregistered daughter.

@Gligar

---

It had been a long time since Kiara had been forced to travel on foot. A small, petty, selfish part of her wouldn't stop complaining about it in the back of her mind--how without Kit, she was forced to trek over the ground.

Without Kit.

Her chest went tight, stomach dropping down to her toes. He could be hurt. Or--

She had to stop walking and physically shake the thought away, wrapping her arms around herself in a feeble attempt to hold the rising panic in. He's fine. Kit's fine. He's fine, and I'll find him.

There weren't many places for dragon hunters to hide, after all. Especially in these mountains. She'd been steadily making her way down toward the plains for the last two days, ever since her partner had been taken, following the signs of heavy travel through the barren, rocky landscape. She may not be used to ground travel anymore, but she was still a decent tracker.

She just had to hope it was enough.

It was getting dark. Too dark for her to move safely through the treacherous rocks, even with the slight advantage to night vision that her fae heritage gave her. She knew she should stop, find a place to camp, conserve some strength for first light, but she couldn't make herself do it. Just a little further. If she could just go a little further...

In the dark, she took a misstep. She barely had time to register loose rock sliding sideways under her foot before she was pitching to the left, arms pinwheeling as she desperately tried--and failed--to regain her balance. She just had time to think, If I fall and snap my neck, Kit will never let me live it down, before she pitched over the edge of a small lip of rock and went tumbling down the previously hidden slope.

She hit the ground hard, but luckily the slope had been shallow enough that she didn't think she was too badly hurt. But her head was reeling, and she certainly felt bruised all over--she was actually seeing flickering lights, so maybe--

Wait.

That was a campfire.

She had somehow tumbled right into someone's camp.

Groaning, she tried to force herself upright, but the world tilted sideways in abrupt warning and she let herself flop back down again.

"So, uh...hey," she muttered to the sky, praying desperately that whoever she had nearly fallen on top of wasn't readying their weapons.

Hey guys!

So I think I've chatted with most of you about this to some degree, but I've been having a bit of trouble getting into RP the last few months and unfortunately it doesn't seem to be getting significantly better >.<

I'm really hoping that will change in the near future—fingers crossed I'll be able to do some sporadic posting in a few weeks and hopefully up-ticking from there! But just in case, I wanted to let ya know I haven't just completely poofed, I fully intend to come back when I can ^.^

Best,
DS

---

(I think I've got everyone I'm currently threading with tagged here but if I missed someone I'm so sorry!)

@visualspice @Dauphin DaGlobster @platonicluv @Rhindeer @Zero @Kingfisher @CounterfeitFish @Eckhart_Von_Musel @Draconian @Juno @quaggan @Kalak @Elf Lady Love @SanctifiedSavage

@platonicluv

(song for the title)

---

They were rare things, winter flowers.

Rare and precious, especially to her. Though the Riverlands tended to be relatively mild even in the coldest months, it was still the time of year she often found herself starving--a flower seller with no flowers wasn't really much of anything, after all. She usually managed to get by with pressed petals and charms that she'd make during the warmer parts of the year, but times were still lean.

Not so much because she had fewer wares to sell--of course there was that, but it wasn't what truly made her hate the season. Well. When she could hate at all. Everyone wore so many layers in the cold. It was nearly impossible for her to touch anyone skin-to-skin, and when she did the contact almost never lasted long enough for her to truly feed. She had to get by on scraps and wisps, just enough to keep her functional. Some weeks were harder than others.

Like this one. She hadn't fed in almost ten days, and the smile she put on any time someone passed the young woman in tattered homespun with her basket of wares on one arm hovering on the corner of a side street was brittle and lifeless. It didn't exactly help with making a sale.

"Dried violets, love?" she called to the young woman who worked in the bakery down the way. The girl smiled at her, but shook her head apologetically as she hurried passed.

"Peony charm for luck?" she tried for the group of more finely dressed young men heading in the other direction. They ignored her completely.

Her eyes lit on her next target--and she hesitated. She thought for a moment, head tilted, then reached into her basket and pulled out the prize she'd been saving for when she grew truly desperate.

"Buy a rose, darlin'?" She smiled, holding the blood red bloom up to show that it was still fresh, alive. "A winter rose is a precious thing, y'know."

@visualspice

---

The Marcell townhouse did not usually play host to major negotiations--and today was really no different, if Andreas gave it another moment's thought. The "negotiation" part itself was nearly over, conducted almost entirely through letters and proxy over the course of the last few months. All that was left was to sign some papers and set a date.

He hadn't even known this was happening until about a week ago.

Which was more warning than his sister had had, admittedly. He glanced sidelong at her from where he stood in the main parlor, unable to sit and just sort of...uselessly hovering at Gavriella's side, as though that might actually do anything to prevent what was happening.

God. What was taking so long? Their parents hadn't even deigned to enter the parlor yet, though he knew their...guests were arriving soon. Were he and Gavi just supposed to wait here? He hated not doing something.

Without thinking, he reached over to take his sister's hand and squeezed gently. "Gavi--" he started, then stopped, sighed, and dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. What was he supposed to say? That he was sorry? That he wished this wasn't happening? That he'd tried to talk their father out of it? She knew all that already--but more importantly, it didn't matter.

So he settled for a soft, "I love you. You know that, right?" He leaned in to kiss the top of her head and gave her fingers another quick squeeze before pulling away to look into her face. "Listen, just...I will always be here for you. No matter what happens after today--if you need me, you just have to ask. Alright?"

@visualspice

---

Closing up shop really shouldn't have been the most difficult part of the day.

Yet, somehow, it was. It always was.

Customers who didn't want to leave, or who arrived "just a few minutes late, can't you let me in?"; clearing out the shelves of the bakery, wrapping bread and pastries and tucking them away in the larder--those that could be preserved, at any rate; cleaning the front of the shop, then finally moving back into the bakehouse to clean up in there...

It always took longer than she thought it was going to. And Nyla never seemed to be able to say no whenever one of those "just a minute late" customers appeared at the door just as she was getting ready to head out the back of the bakery and take the stairs up to the little flat where she stayed above it.

Every time. She was nearly positive it must be choreographed somehow.

But even the small flash of irritation she felt when she heard the door to the bakery opening instantly sent her spiraling into guilt. The bakery was warm, and safe, and that was a rare thing in a city. Particularly in Reajh. Particularly lately. How could she begrudge people seeking that safety? She wished she could do more, but if she wanted to have anything to feed people in the morning, she did have to close up sometime.

"Your pardon, ser, but I'm afraid I'm just closing up," she said as she turned from where she'd been organizing display shelves behind the counter to face the door and see just who had come in this time.

@visualspice

---

It should have been the perfect hiding place.

Not Reajh--though she had to admit, she was a little proud of herself for actually managing to get all the way to the capital. Not even Connlaoth itself, though that had been her thought when she crossed the border.

No. No, tonight, Jasper was interested in something on a bit of a smaller scale: a particular shed out behind what appeared to be a smithy of some kind. Evidently it was all but abandoned; the tools around her had gathered a thick patina of dust, and the door had creaked so badly when she first slipped inside that she'd worried for a moment she'd be heard down the damn street.

But it seemed she'd just been paranoid. It was only for a night, anyway. She'd figure out a way to make or steal some coin in the morning and find a real inn for a couple of days--didn't have to be a nice one, just needed to be cheap.

Climbing as silently as she could manage over a few dilapidated crates, Jasper tucked herself into the small space behind them and curled up, cloak wrapped tight around her body as she finally, finally allowed herself to sleep.

---

The dream started as it almost always did: with Idris, smiling at her, hands outstretched in welcome and comfort, calling her name in that laughing way that meant he was proud of her, while blood dripped from his fingers and the earth beneath his feet roiled, rotting fingers and creeping, thorny vines beginning to climb up his legs.

Jasper turned and ran. She knew it wouldn't matter, but she ran anyway. She couldn't help it. Nightmares were like that, always.

"Don't run from me, Jaz. You're too clever for that..."

She gritted her teeth and ducked her head, running faster, even as the ground seemed to suck at her feet, slowing her progress to a crawl. Then...

Then it changed. Something changed. Something that was simultaneously familiar and alien. It wasn't Idris at her back anymore, wasn't her teacher's voice in her ear, it was...

Something else. A shadow, a darkness she didn't know but somehow did, eating up the sky and the earth and the air in her lungs, the magic in her veins--

"...Help me...Someone. Anyone. Please--!"

She couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The shadows around her had merged into something singular and terrible, and she knew with a sickening certainty that in just a few more moments, it would consume her entirely.

@nephero

---

Ketra was...big.

Having grown up in the mountains, Azalea had assumed she'd be more than prepared for whatever Adela's capital could throw at her, at least in terms of anything that could be classified under "harsh environment". It was a city, after all; surely it would at least be manageable, particularly to someone who could always take to the air if the streets became overwhelming.

It had taken her about three hours after her first day in Ketra to realize she'd been dead wrong.

The problem wasn't the city itself. The problem was all the people. Everywhere, noisy and crowding and positively reeking of so many different scents that she'd actually worried her nose might go numb after about an hour. Even keeping away from main streets, following the presence of other dragons to find the barracks and pretty much secluding herself there as much as possible, just the scents and sounds of the city around her had nearly been enough to send her flying back home with her tail between her legs.

Of course, that had all been several weeks ago--it had taken that long for her to convince the office she'd first spoken to, a burly man whom she'd only heard referred to as "Ser Fareth", that yes she really was here to enlist and no, she did not have a human partner--and by now she liked to think that she was, if not comfortable, at least managing.

But not well enough to find her way to the corporal's station near the eastern gates, apparently.

Really, it sounded simple enough. Go to the eastern gates, find the station. Easy.

Except it had somehow taken her nearly a full hour to accomplish what should have been a simple task, leaving her with her wings drawn in close to her body and her head bowed forward slightly in an almost instinctive gesture of submission as she approached what appeared to be the officer in charge and cleared her throat--an odd sound on any dragon, but on her it brought to mind the cracking off ice on a stream in spring thaw.

"Ah, pardon... I was sent here to meet a Ser Ekida Dragonbound? I know I'm a bit late, but I don't suppose someone could point me in the right direction...?"

[@Kada]

---

Lapis sat under the shade of a shop awning, sipping at a cool, yogurt-based drink and desperately trying to pretend that she had nothing to do with the half naked man lounging in the seat next to her, practically shimmering from the sheer amount of jewelry that dangled from his person.

A task that became significantly more difficult to accomplish when he leaned in close and slung his arm around the back of her own seat, positively purring, "Lapis, darling, won't you at least look at me? You aren't still mad, are you?"

Face burning, and for once not because of the Essyrni heat, Lapis Lazuli deliberately turned her head away from him and took another long drink. She could feel the eyes of the marketplace lingering on them; most shoppers only spared them a cursory, vaguely curious glance before moving on--they probably assumed he was a lesser merchant prince, treating his concubine to a day out.

A fact which Zahir had shamelessly taken advantage of earlier that day, and which she still had not forgiven him for.

"Oh, come now." The djinn leaned closer, twirling a finger absently through one of her braids. She scowled and batted his hand away, and he retreated with a laugh, both hands raised peaceably. "You must admit, it got us out of there faster."

"I must not do anything, particularly for you," Lapis snapped, then winced. Damnit. She'd been determined not to talk to him at all. She'd made it nearly three hours before breaking.

"There it is!" Zahir swooned dramatically, laying a hand over his heart and letting his lashes flutter against his cheeks. "Ah, the sweet dulcet tones of my mistress's voice. How I've missed it!"

"Zahir, be quiet, for the love of the goddess!" Lapis hissed as she looked around, mortification growing with every second.

@Dauphin DaGlobster

---

In another life, maybe, Yvaine thought she might have actually liked her new home. The manor was spacious and well-lit, most of the rooms bearing large windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, or nearly. Her new bedchamber itself had a wall that was almost entirely window, leading out onto a small but elegant balcony. And it really was a fine set of rooms, even aside from that: the bed was luxurious, she had her own private bath chamber, a small sitting room for "taking tea", as she'd been told, even a smallish sort of study space that seemed to have mostly served as an offshoot of the main library up until this point.

Yes, in pretty much any other circumstances she might have been quite happy here. Aside from her family--well, her brothers, really--she had anything she could possibly want.

Anything except her freedom.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Amelia Devereaux had snapped at her daughter when Yvaine voiced this two days ago when they'd first arrived. "You're his betrothed, not his prisoner." She'd narrowed her eyes, pinning Yvaine in place with a cold, distant glare. "You have a responsibility, Yvaine."

She could taste iron in the back of her throat at those words.

And that was that. She hadn't seen or heard from her family since they'd left her...her betrothed's manor two days ago. She knew she wouldn't until the wedding in two weeks' time. It was a bit unorthodox for the new bride to be living in her husband's home before they were officially married, but her parents had wanted her in Uthlyn--with him--as quickly and efficiently as possible. Nip those rumors in the bud, he father had said flatly.

So here she was. Far from her home, her family, her friends, everything and everyone she'd ever known. And this is where she would stay.

---

Yvaine did find some solace in the library of Thistlewhit Manor--a rather fanciful name, but almost despite herself she thought it might be able to grow on her. She only hoped the same could be said of its lord.

It was a massive room on the first flood which stretched upward nearly a full two stories, accessibly from the second floor by a thin balcony that wrapped around the interior. It was on the balcony that she'd been finding herself most often the past two days, skimming the shelves with her fingertips as she familiarized herself with the place.

That evening though, she decided to take a closer look at the first floor--which was really more a personal museum than it was a library. The floor space was mostly occupied with carefully organized glass and wood display cases, plush-carpeted paths winding between them. There were the customary bookshelves along the walls, of course, but these were rare, old tomes. Some even dealt with arcane topics, though all of those were chained behind a special glass case front.

Lord Farris Seigbert was a man of refined, eclectic tastes, and he was quite proud of his collection. In fact, it was nearly all they'd spoken of in the last few days. Which was better than quite a few alternatives, she supposed, but still...he was just so incredibly dull! Ansgar, she'd thought she might just expire from boredom when he attempted to give her a tour of this lower floor earlier and spent nearly fifteen minutes waxing poetic about a scrap of cloth supposedly once part of a holy knight's banner.

Luckily he'd retired for the night, leaving her alone in the library. Yvaine looped around the back of the room, her eyes skimming the tall shelves. Her eyebrows crept up. As much as she didn't want to vindicate Seigbert's pride in his collection--as he hadn't actually done anything to acquire these books and artifacts, other than inherent quite a bit of money--she had to admit the titles and authors she saw on these tomes were impressive.

I just wish...

No. No, stop that!

Gritting her teeth, Yvaine slammed her hand into the side of a bookshelf, sending a resounding THUD pulsing out through the vaulted room. She didn't care. No one was around to here.

"Stop wishing, stupid girl," she hissed to herself, fists clenched tight at her sides, head bowed forward and eyes tight shut. "Wishing is what got you here."

@Dauphin DaGlobster

---

A bitingly cold wind whistled down out of the mountains that rose up before her and Maka hunched even further into her heavy, oilskin coat, scowling down at her feet. Gods, she hated the cold.

What I wouldn't give for a hot drink, she bemoaned to herself, rather uselessly. It hardly did her any good to simply bitch about the cold, even if it was only to herself.

Because like it or not she really only had herself to blame for the position she was in. This is what she got for taking jobs without reading the fine print.

Well...not literally, of course. Honestly after spending a few weeks in with the man she had begun to doubt if the man was even literate. But the pay was good, and it had been too long since her last real job, so here she was, playing delivery girl. Trekking through the snow. Cursing herself.

How much further was it to Hyoite anyway?

"After this, no more jobs up north," Maka muttered to herself. "I don't care how good the pay is."

@Paladienne

CW: Child trafficking

---

This was not what he had signed up for.

The job had seemed simple, easy money: show up at the agreed upon location, stand guard for a couple of hours, take his pay, leave. Whatever this Dorian guy was doing was probably illegal--okay, definitely illegal, he wasn't an idiot--but Cass has sort of decided that...well, as long as he had plausible deniability, he couldn't say he was really involved in anything too sordid.

He figured it was just a typically robbery, maybe some sort of more advanced heist. He had not been expecting, nor signed on for, taking part in a slave operation.

He definitely hadn't agreed to kidnap a bunch of kids.

"Godsdamned motherfucking asswipe shitheels," the dhampir growled under his breath as he jerked his shortsword out of his fellow guard's back. The man had slipped up, mentioned what it was they were actually doing at this--this school or whatever it was, and without blinking Cassian had severed his spine.

Breathing heavily, he gave the body a firm kick to tug his blade the rest of the way free, glaring at the corpse as it sunk to the ground. "You guys just fucked with the wrong merc," he hissed, and turned on his heel.

He wanted to just go charging in, caution be damned, but the part of his brain that was still working logically knew that was a bad idea. Though he hadn't exactly been involved in planning this operation, he'd overheard a bit of what Dorian said about the place's defenses--namely that they were nigh on impregnable.

The slavers had only gotten in through some insanely powerful relic that, if he thought about it too hard, he realized they'd probably killed for. It apparently worked as a sort of mini-shield against the school's defenses. And he had no idea how long even that would last.

But he couldn't exactly just stand around and wait for them to come back out: not only were there twelve of the slavers left and only one of him, making confronting them as a group a spectacularly bad idea, but there were kids in there for gods' sakes!

"Oh...hells!" Gritting his teeth, Cassian drew his other short sword and made his way to the front gate. Least expected option, so he should have the element of surprise, right? Sure, he'd definitely set of the wards, but hopefully he could find Dorian and take out the leader before they actually managed to grab anyone.

...If he made it out of this alive, Snowcall was so going to kill him.

@Imperfect_M

---

Only very specific pathways exist between the lands of the Fae and the realm of mortals. Some of her kind could travel without them, but it took a great effort of will and magic to accomplish such a task. Magic that required a faerie be hale and whole.

She was neither, and yet she did it anyway.

Anoria knew it was dangerous, but she could not stand to be in the Glade a moment longer. Its Keeper was kind, and she truly had needed the rest, but she could no longer stand to feel the pitying eyes on her every time she turned her back. She knew Lakali meant well, but the careful way she treated her only served to fuel a burning sense of rage and self-pity that she'd spent the better part of the last several years attempting to suffocate.

The problem was that the Moonlit Glade existed both in the realms of her birth and in the mortal land; it was easy to cross between the two there, but she wouldn't actually escape it if she did.

So, as she followed the faint, spiraling path that circled to the center of the Glade, she reached out to the inherent power of the place and sought to twist the path, guide it just slightly of course, just for a moment, so with her next step she found herself not in the Faerie Glade, but...somewhere else.

It worked. To an extent. And it hurt.

Anoria sank to her knees as she stepped through the veil between worlds and pain jolted through her body, drawing all the strength from her body in less than a moment. She threw out a hand to brace against the earth and gasped desperately, lungs burning, and though she was panting near frantically it still felt as though she could not draw breath.

The last flickers of magic from her foolhardy attempt shimmered in the air around her, a faint halo of blue and silver light, then faded. Shivers wracked her frame and the slight faerie raised her head to look around, vision blurry, as she desperately tried to make sense of her surroundings.

She could make out vague shapes, too carefully arranged to be natural formations of stone or wood, and what might have been the flickering light of a fire pit--beyond that, it was all blurred colors and tilting shapes.

Where...where was she?

@JaddWard

---

"Buy a violet, love? Just two bits for the bunch!"

It was always so difficult after so long without feeding to summon up the smile she knew that she needed to sell her wares. Still, Adrianna forced herself to smile and laugh and chat with anyone and everyone who passed by her little corner as the afternoon dipped toward evening and her chances of making that one last sale dropped ever lower.

It's not the end of the world, she reminded herself as the hand not holding her basket of blooms brushed back against her skirt and earning a very soft jingle of the coin she had already collected since morning. It's enough to buy a bit of dinner, and that's certainly better than nothing.

Better than nothing, yes; but not one person she'd sold to that day had deigned to touch her hand for more than a moment, and she was starving, cold and empty and aching with it.

If she didn't feed before nightfall, she didn't know if she'd even be able to make it back home--or at least the abandoned plot of land where she'd been sleeping the last few nights.

"A hyacinth, milady?" Forcing herself to fix that damned smile on her face and act like she wasn't desperate and withering, she called out to a well-dressed woman who started passed her corner at a brisk clip. She fished through her basket a moment before producing the bloom and holding it out to her. "The white ones are for loveliness," she told her with a slight tilt to her smile.

The woman, minor nobility by the look of her, barely spared Adrianna a bored look before continuing on her way. The flower seller's shoulders slumped forward a bit and she closed her eyes as he head hung forward, chin nearly touching her chest. She was heavy, every inch of her pulling toward the ground, it felt like lifting a mountain just to keep standing upright...

When she opened her eyes again, they lit on a stranger just across the way, a man with dark hair and eyes that she didn't recognize--which wasn't so odd, it was a big city and it wasn't as if she knew everyone. Still, she knew at least most folks who walked these streets, even just in passing, and a stranger was intriguing.

Or he would have been, on any other day. Adrianna looked him up and down quickly, then made a guess as she reached into her basket again and called out to him. "Poppy, sir?" She smiled and held up the bright red bloom, a flash of color in the ever-darkening evening. "A poppy for remembrance?"

@SanctifiedSavage

---

My dearest son,

I am sorry I seem to write you only on business, but matters have recently come to light that must be addressed. Word has reached my ear that you were in the area recently, so I informed Lord Saroian that I would ask you to look into the matter.

There is a rogue of our kind spreading destruction near the northern mountains of Serendipity-- destruction like nothing we have every heard of before. It is not a slaughter of villages or a lurking presence at the edge of battlefields, but rather a decay in the land itself.

If you find the swamp, you will find your target. Return him to the fold; he may choose to bend to our rule or not once he is here, but he must be monitored. Find this vampire and bring him to us, by order of the High Council.

Dictated by the Lady Carine Zefar, Third Councilor and Mistress of the Eastern Pass.

Beneath the body of the letter, in a slightly different, more curving hand, was scrawled: P.S. It has been so long since you've been home for a visit. Surely you can spare some time to remain when you return with the rogue?

Love always,
Mother

Cassian sighed and folded the letter up, tucking it back into place inside his worn leather coat. He rubbed at his temple with one hand, using the other to stroke absently through the downy feather's of Snowcall's ruff as the griffon banked into a graceful arc, flying them along the southeastern edge of the mountains.

"Northern mountains of Serendipity," the dhampir snorted to himself. "When was the last time she got out of the damn castle? Does she think that narrows it down?"

His mount suddenly gave a sharp cry and tipped into a shallow dive. Startled, Cass was jerked from his own thoughts to look over the griffon's shoulder.

To his surprise, they were approaching what appeared to be the edge of a smallish, mist covered swamp.

He glowered down at the back of Snowcall's head. "Showoff." The griffon just clucked smugly, bringing them in for a slightly squishy landing. Cassian wrinkled his nose as he slid off his companion's back, patting his shoulder absently while he looked around. "Alright. So. Swamp vampire. Where oh where could you be...?"

Decay in the land, huh? He frowned. Sure swamps weren't his favorite place, but...that seemed like a strong accusation. Marshland was as much a part of the natural world as forests and river valleys-- it just wasn't particularly pretty to most.

@SanctifiedSavage

---

There was a flower tucked into her hair.

It was a rather small detail, especially considering her current circumstances. But Nathara had learned that it was often the smallest things, the seemingly insignificant, that could turn the tide of a battle.

And that's what it felt like, the arena. A battle. It was as much a clash of wills as it was of strength and skill. So it was no coincidence that she had been allowed to keep the small bloom when it happened to fall from a merchant princess's confection of an outfit in one of her earlier fights. She wasn't quite sure herself what had possessed her to snatch up the flower before its petals had been completely stained with the sand and dust of the arena, but still she had.

She tilted her head and watched her opponent's eyes skate over her warily. A veritable behemoth of a man, clad in little more than a loincloth to expose every inch of rippling muscle that covered his body. She could already see the gears turning behind his eyes, practically hear his derision and confusion: This is who I must fight? A little girl with no weapon and a flower in her hair?

Nathara smiled, and her pure white eyes narrowed to cunning slits. She slid her left foot back, sinking into a defensive stance with her arms raised to protect herself-- all the better to play into the misconceptions she hoped her opponent held.

The other gladiator suddenly roared, charging forward. Nathara did not move, just stared him down as he came closer...closer...now!

With the speed and grace of a striking cobra, the young woman threw herself into the air and arced over the gladiator's left shoulder, twisting in the air to wrap her legs around his neck as she bent toward the ground. Surprise was on her side, and all it took was a deft shift in her balance to change the trajectory of her leap and send them both crashing to the ground, slamming the mountain of a man's head into the earth while she herself slipped easily back to her feet and danced away.

She turned to face him again, once more sinking back into that innocuous, defensive stance. Let's get this over with.