#anhashy

[rosettevaleria]

Heavy

The gray light of dawn was just filtering in through the windows as Rosette started to wake. Her limbs felt heavy, her head felt foggy as she fought to open her eyes through the last vestiges of the sleep spell that Mafrea had hit her with before he had left. She had been dozing lightly just before, trying to stem off the dizziness and headache that came with using her own very miniscule aether manipulation abilities to halt Jun’s aetherflow.

She opened her eyes, looking at the semi-lit room. Her dreams had been plagued with an inky darkness that had flooded the room, threading its way up around Mafrea’s limbs as he had taken a long drag of a cigar. The smoldering tip of it had been the only light in the room as the dripping shadows had hovered over him, a skeletal reaper with a long scythe dangling just over his left shoulder. The Thaumaturge’s skin had started to wither, become pockmarked in the ink that dripped from the creature hovering over him. She had tried to call out to him, to warn him...but her voice had been stolen as the darkness washed up over her and dragged her into the abyss. 

Then, wakefulness had started to creep in and drag her out of slumber.

Rose didn’t have the energy to move and simply remained as she was, the bench only slightly uncomfortable. She knew her back and shoulders would be stiff and sore later, but she just...couldn’t bring herself to move.

Last night had been difficult with Jun’s possession rearing it’s ugly head, worrying about the team that Arik took to discover what the hell was happening with her caravans, and the fall out that happened between Emeline and Mafrea. She cringed and lifted a hand to run over her face as she recalled the Conjurer yelling at Mafrea, partially revealing that Rosette felt more than what their familial bond was. Luckily, the mage likely missed it as he was so focused on Emeline and her lack of control.

Then, there was the news that Anhashy delivered about the Garleans not truly being Garleans. They were hired thugs paid to target her shipments, intent on destroying her. She knew she had upset some people with her bravado and blunt dealings, but actual enemies that would strike out? She supposed it would happen sooner or later, she thought as she shifted a little to relieve the pressure on her right hip. Still, she had felt oddly vulnerable.

Perhaps it was because she was so depleted from aiding Jun? Manipulating someone’s aether was an incredibly difficult task for a seasoned professional...much less a novice stumbling through it based on another’s notations. She had wanted to ask Mafrea to stay on the ship instead of taking a walk to get some air. Yet...she let him go. He needed to go do whatever it was he did when the rage was close to breaching the surface. His need was greater than her own.

Rose closed her eyes, once more trying to talk herself into getting up and give herself a pep talk. She had paperwork to file, contracts to review, and a meeting to talk with a stained glass and window merchant about setting up shipments to Kugane and Doma. Yet still, she didn’t move.

It wasn’t until the first streaks of sun bathed the ship that she was seen walking away from the Rocinante, shoulders slumped and eyes downcast as she was lost in her own chaotic thoughts. She had more questions than answers after that caravan’s mission and she looked forward to the full report. She had some digging to do.

mentions: @healeremeline, @oroete, @junakagane, @blackgarden-fc, @Arik (The Bum) @Anhashy (No tumblr?)

[theboondogglepub]

A Land of Garden’s Black, Part 4.

Part 4: The Moon Knight.

Somewhere not far in an airship medbay, he laid in a bed and slept night and day. Days he was gone, tortured at length, drained and abused and sapped of all strength. He slumbered and dreamed as his body did mend, while atop his frail form a healer did fate bend. She worked without rest, without thought or with care, and all this she did for fear of white hair. It meant more than a color, it meant a soul that was bleached, it meant pain and sorrow and a mind that could not be reached. He with white hair, Boon laid in the medbay to rest, putting those close, Katalin, Faol, Locke to the test. They scurried and worked, hurried to and to fro with a hope to bring the pale life to a glow. Little did they know, for this was the end. To mark a beginning that pity did lend. Somewhere not far from an airship medbay, there was a world that was having a very, very bad day.

    “Promise me,” She had said on a sandy beach, tears and demand in her voice which rang in his head. “Promise me you won’t abandon us again...” It rang in his ears again and again, and the Knight set out.

    Fire. Fire everywhere, a black and insidious flame that consumed all and gave off an acrid smoke. Cries of terror, fear, woe. A darkness was brought to bare in the Land of Garden’s Black, and the whole of the disarrayed kingdom was in further chaos. We open on the Castle of the Botanist Queen, her Royal Authority of Pure White and Infinite Help. We open on her close.

“HRRK!” Cried Arik the unbreakable, his twice armored body broken and bleeding. Shlink went the large black sword cut through his chest, pulled out and held in a black armored hand. A heavy crashing thud followed, cracking the floor of the Botanist Queen’s palace as Arik landed. A darkness washed over the Botanist Queen’s throne room as the doors burst open, and rushing in was the Botanist Queen herself, clad all in white and wailing in terror. Her castle of pure white and beguiling greenery was in shambles, cracks in the walls and tatters of black flame surging through and snuffing out life after life after servantry life. The high Scrivener Rosette stood to protect her Queen, and leapt at the approaching foe that had caused all the woes falling on the Botanist Queen’s castle, winding up a terrifying clashing fist, and howling in righteous indignation.

“What?!” Rosette yelled, her fist colliding with a wall of impenetrable darkness, as if her titanic strength merely bounced off a shell of night itself. Stunned for a few moments, that was all that was needed for Rosette’s attack to meet its end, the shape of finger tips in the form of an open palm coming to view inside the shell of blackest night. A blast of crackling searing black light enveloped the High Scrivener Rosette, and in the next moment, she was gone. In her place was left fumes of black smoke and ash.

“My Lady of Immaculate Light! You must escape!” The court Thaumaturge Mafchulu shouted as he approached the Throne Room in a mad rush, spreadsheets falling by the wayside in stacks from his arms. He didn’t get much of a shout out after, a rush of darkness consuming the hall outside the throne room in its entirety. The Botanist Queen turned back just in time to see Mafchulu impaled through the back by a large black blade, and lifted from the ground several feet. Blood spouted from his mouth, the last of his spreadsheets falling to the floor, and his body went limp. The black blade then swung, tossing Mafchulu to the side like a broken ragdoll that skidded and slid.

On her throne, the Botanist Queen crawled and cowered. She cried out, her echoes of demand billowing over the whole of the din of destruction falling all around her castle. Still, her words fell on deaf ears as a black shape stepped out from the billowing darkness, a massive black blade settling on a black armored knight’s back. He had no face, just two slightly off-black eyes inside a black mask and black helm, and those eyes were filled with vitriol. The Botanist Queen shouted out. “Stay back foul creature! I will not hesitate to bring down my power on you! I will have order, I will have a voice, I will --” SHUNK.

The Black Knight glowered over the throne, staring down with his black blade impaled through the Botanist Queen’s seat, blood trickling through the cleaved throne. “You have no power. No one does.” He said in words that, were there any to hear, would have caused nausea and suffering just to be heard. They were words not of reason, but of antipathy, revulsion, and indignation.

The Botanist Queen’s castle burned in a haze of black fire and black smoke, and a black knight rode away atop a black horse. As he rode away, a fearful and cowering bard dared not to strum his lyre, and spoke only above a whisper. “There he goes, there he rides, the Moon Knight doth cleanse, a foreign kingdom staked claims, but could not make amends. Where now he rides? Where now does he fly? The Moon Knight shall not stop til he charges the whole land to die. To the middle, to the roads, to the safest refuge, to bring to them all the most heinous of delug--” SHUNK.

The Bard and Narrator was left with black blade impaling him through his lyre and midsection.

Locke Tin Man and Maeze the Many-skilled had only just finished burying Anhashy the multiformed and were returning to the safety of the Valley of Spared Parts. As they approached the time-gate, Naih the Odd continued to keep watch. “He has arrived.” Naih said cryptically.

“What? Who!?” Asked Locke. His visage grew severe, and the Tin Man ran into the valley then, only to see it consumed in black flames. The thud, thud, thud of hooves cracked on mud and earth, growing louder and more angry. Locke leveled his sidearm, and Maeze readied her many cards that divined her many futures. *SHUNK*SHLINK* Swung a great black blade, and they too were consumed. Naih didn’t even bother preparing for a fight, because she always knew what time it was. Currently, it was the time for the Land of Gardens Black to end. *SHUNK.*

The Admiral’s Castle, and the Catte Army that Baps stood ready but wary. Catherina the Shadow of Cattes stood outside the castle, her hands uprisen, a dark spell of shadow cat protection. Behind large iron gates, the Admiral admonished and caterwauled at the world that burned in black flames around her. “HSSSS. How DARE! This is my world! I am the Admiral! I will not be defeated at the cusp of my absolute victory! This world belongs to me, and all those who don’t do what I design should die!” She spent her time repeatedly pulling random guns from her great coat and firing wildly at the encroaching darkness. Mukkie, the Queen of Booli clasped Catherina and squeezed, terrified.

The Moon Knight arrived on a great black horse, its burning hooves rearing up and a scowl. “This land must be purged.” Was all he said. *SHUNK*SHINK*SHLUNK* Through the Catte Army that Baps, through the shield of Catherina the Shadow of Cattes, through Mukkie Queen of Booli, and to the wrought gates of the Admiral’s fortress castle. She, the Admiral glowered at him through her gate, the largest gun she could manifest aimed at the Moon Knight.

“I do not fear you creature, I fear nothing. This is my land, my kingdom, and I shall not be felled by you.” The Admiral scowled with her heavy sidearm aimed menacingly as if she alone could stand against him. The Moon Knight’s horse clopped and stepped closer, hot heaving breath steaming on the wrought gates with fervor. Just the tip of the horse’s snout began to touch the barrier, and it began to sizzle and melt and sear away with glowing dripping heat. The Admiral’s face didn’t crack, not that it would show with her black mask on. The first gate bar fell and clanged, and it would only be a matter of time now. The Admiral’s face didn’t crack. The Knight proceeded. The Admiral cocked her gun. The Knight atop his horse was ilms from her, the hot breath of the mount falling down upon her.

The Admiral turned her gun from the Moon Knight onto herself, squeezed her eyes shut, and fired. *Click*BOOM* The Admiral fell, and true to her word, the Moon Knight had not felled her.

“Well?” Spoke a voice, sultry and rather mirthful. “Are you satisfied?” The Moon Knight burned the former Admiral’s castle, reducing it to ash as the Cheshire Katalin curled her body down and around a gnarled tree. She came to a stand, part of her nude body visible, the other part invisible, her glowing red eyes pulsing with a playful enjoyment. The Moon Knight began with a shudder and a clack of armor to slide his helm off. Beneath it, Corsa’ir’s sweat and tear stained face stared out at the black flames, features gaunt.

“I… had to. I have to purge the world.” He said, the impassable black armor no longer making him a creature of imposing darkness, but a broken and weakened man atop of a nightmare horse. The world continued to burn as he spoke, hate, pain and fear in his voice. “Letting people close was what got me here. I was fine for years. Years! Being all by myself, doing my work at the fringes of existence. This? All of this?! I built up in less than a year, FILLING myself with them and their stupid lives!” He went on a man tyrade now, black armor falling by the wayside as he dismounted, a thin and malnourished miqo’te existed beneath the plate. Corsa’ir collapsed to his knees and beat the burning charcoal ground, ash and smoking heat rising up with his fists. “For WHAT? Nothing ever lasts! Why do I bother? This won’t last, that’s why I left! That’s why I shouldn’t have returned! I left BEFORE it could and would fall apart. It’s easier that way! It… it hurts less.” Tears fell from his eyes and burned away on the ashen world floor.

“You already know why.” The Cheshire Katalin spoke with greater knowledge than her existence, slinking forward on weightless feet and hugging Corsa’ir’s crouching body with a gentle, loving hold. “Now finish it.” He shook his head, pain and suffering in his voice.

“Nnnnnn-oooooo.” He cried wailed pains that denied what still had to happen. The Cheshire Katalin knew though, and faded into a fine dust. And suddenly he was alone. The fires faded over what could have been minutes or centuries in that place, and the Land of Garden’s Black disappeared into the distance. A light appeared above Corsa’ir, bright and milky white. The moon, large and all consuming. The ground was a cold and black obsidian, glassy to feel but matte to see. He was alone in this world and regressed, a small child, a miqo’te of no more than 10 summers of age. He was alone for what could have been minutes or centuries.

He felt a hand, soft and pleasant on his shoulder. “Corsa’ir.” She spoke lovingly. Boon looked up, and saw in the light of the moon his mother. Speechless, he tried to say ‘Corsa’ but didn’t find the words. “Yes,” She replied without needing to hear his words. “You’ve grown up,” She said, cupping the boy’s cheeks and wiping away tears. Her hair was a fiery red, and her eyes… those eyes. Corsa’ir broke down then, grabbing onto her with an endless fount of weeping.

“I-! I tried mom! I tried to… I tried to be good! If I was good, you wouldn’t go away! But you left, and then, then, and then… Leylong went away, and Hilda went away and, and then Y’vett, then A’kata and Katalin and Aifread and Emeline and, and then… then….” There was no reasoning with him, just tears and incoherent rambling. “It's only a matter of time, everything ends no matter how much I try! What am I doing wrong?! Why do I… Why do people abandon me?” He sniffled and looked in her moonlit face. “Why do people constantly leave me alone and abandoned no matter how much I do for them?!” Corsa’ir held onto Corsa, the hold on his long dead mother a grip of tight iron. The female keeper consoled him.

“You already know why, Corsa’ir.” She said, her voice long forgotten merely had a general dulcet tone to it. Her hands long forgotten had a general softness to them. Her maternal care long forgotten had a general love to it. That was more than enough for him. “No family lasts forever, but the time and the memories you have to share is enough.” Corsa’ir looked down, stifling after what could have been minutes or centuries of crying.

Then he looked up. “So… what happens now?” She helped him stand then, long slender Elezen fingers lifting Boon up. Flowing locks of silver white hair ankle in  length floated with a glow under the moonlight. Corsa’ir stood and looked at length at the Elezen that had moments ago been his mother in appearance. “You’re her. Mariette. The real one. You held my soul crystal before I got it.” He said rather matter of fact. She nodded.

“Yes. I am Mariette LeNoire, the former possessor of your soul crystal. And as for what happens now, that depends on you.” Though the moon kept high above in the dark night, the scene shifted around the pair. The medbay came into view, and Corsa’ir saw and felt himself laying atop an examination table. A tiny lavender haired lalafell worked tirelessly, her cups of coffee stacked to the brim in a corner of the room. Katalin sat nearby, stacks of books next to her and one in her lap. The scene went by at a rapid pace, with phantoms of others coming and going, but the whole time Katalin and the lalafell were there. Corsa’ir’s form changed again as he watched the scene, going from a tiny child to the full grown man in a set of armor with his greatsword strapped to his back. Mariette spoke then.

“You can come with me, and the process can begin again. Our crystal can find a new inhabitant, as is destined to continue, and you can find rest. It will be peaceful, and a part of you will always live on, etched into the crystal. Or, you can return to them. One path will bring peace and comfort and most importantly rest, the other unimaginable pain as you spend countless days and weeks and months recovering from what your body and mind were put through. Moreover as you know, nothing lasts forever. One day, even she…” As Mariette spoke, Corsa’ir narrowed his vision on Katalin full well knowing the intended target of ‘her’. “-May well leave you.”

Corsa’ir looked down then a moment at his hands. In one was a jagged red hued crystal, and in the other, nothing. Then a hand fell into his empty hand. As Mareitte stood there waiting for Boon’s answer, the hand that laid atop his empty one squeezed. Boon looked up from that hand. It was Corsa, his mother. His real mother, the one he had forgotten. She was kind and warm and loving, but didn’t speak. She only smiled at Boon. Then another hand laid atop his empty and open palm. It was Leylong, tall and gray and impressive. He also didn’t speak, but smiled at Boon. Then another hand, smaller, but masculine, elusive. It was Aster. He also didn’t speak, but smiled at Boon. The keeper looked down at his hands then, both of them. He looked at Corsa, at Leylong, and at Aster, and then he turned back to look at Mariette.

“I’ve made my decision.”

(I had intended to end the Land of Garden’s Black story by a different means. By inviting everyone I had grown to meet and make friends with to a story where they would explore the world of mirth and fancy. But that won’t happen now. So its ending. The End.)

[katalinhunter]

Toil

The tournament wasn't a complete disaster. She'd managed to keep her control during most of it, not go for any kill shots, got off a few quips even if one or two were duds, found some enjoyment in it. 'course she lost her one and only fight, but it was close. The fact that her opponent went on to win the whole thing was satisfying.

She grinned a bit, thinking to the event that led up to it, throwing out a challenge to all of the others. Of course she ended up with a veteran fighter there and of course there had been a bet, raising the stakes and making it more personal. It all added to the fun though, to making a splash. And of course, when her opponent's patron challenged her to raise the stakes at the start of the fight, she had. A fair bet's a terrible thing to resist, she really didn’t have the option to not take it.

All of that was why was sitting in the common room, right leg propped up, still healing from where it had been broken, twisted, broken a bit more. It was more or less healed, everything straightened. Could take most of her weight even if it itched incessantly from the rapid healing that was still going on. She hadn't even bothered bringing a weapon to the mission briefing, knew that she wouldn't be out there in the fighting. Instead, she would be back with the medics, providing support. Easy enough work. ---------- It had been a long day. The ship had been shot, had been boarded. They'd survived and had fought the boarders off but still. She'd been on the edge of that fight, taking strikes of opportunity while serving in a variety of capacities. Recovering a fallen crewmember, putting out a fire (thank the Twelve for Locke's help there, that bastard), pulling bodies from the wreckage and flames of engineering, treating them in the field then hauling them to medbay. Constantly finding another reason to go up or down stairways, supporting some, being supported by others, finally dragging a patient up for treatment.

She was limping at that point, drawn and tired. Triage, kicking out those who were now stable so that their beds could be reused for the next surge of patients. The smell of burned flesh as she saved an engineer who just might not appreciate it. Arik again, he was constantly in the front and taking the brunt of the attacks for others. She had been grateful before, for his appearance at the tournament, watching and supporting her. The one regret she had there was that she hadn't made a better showing in the fighting aspect. She enjoyed his company, wanted his approval.

Jun after that, bleeding heavily from his neck. She did her best to stop the flow, was happy to step aside and let one of the magical healers get to work. Sad to see that it was Emeline who stepped in to take care of him. Let it be, move on to the next. Anhashy working around her and Emeline, doing his best to help. Kayne, stubborn and resistant and proud and determined, wanting to go out there and retrieve Maf. She balked him the first time, wanted to treat his injuries, but things happened and he had slipped away. She had at least thrust a potion towards him on his way out, something to help his injuries until he returned.

Then Aster dying. He had been fine the last she had seen him, then suddenly not. She wasn't clear what had exactly had happened, just knew that he was lost, that Emeline had struggled to revive him. Katalin had felt the pull of the conjurer's spell, draining what energy she still had. Maeze then, she had been injured as well, blinded by something but still trying to help, shuffling her way to Jun, something about his aether.

There were others she knew, injured and in need. Rosette, Yuki, maybe another? Everything was blurred as Kayne returned, dragging Mafrea along with him. Anhashy took the thaumaturge, saw to his healing, leaving Kayne for her care. She stopped then, turned to the medicines and mixed a bit of something. Take a stimulant, add something to numb the pain, then do her best to finish.

She turned, refreshed, and resumed working on Kayne. Two bullets pulled out from the same shoulder, cleaned and sewn. Minor treatments for the burns, quick dressing on his ankle. Send him off... did he go to Rosette then? Probably, seemed like what he would do.

Everything was stable for a moment, almost quiet with the sound of Emeline working with Maf. Katalin had offered to take care of Aster, prepare him for whatever services were needed. She couldn't quite tell if Emeline wanted to take care of it herself, needed to because of their relationship before, or if was something that the conjurer would happily give over. Mafrea spoke up then, stating that he knew certain rituals.

She happily let them take responsibility at that point, made her excuses and bolted.

She needed a drink.

@healeremeline, @kayneblackfire, @oroete, @rosettevaleria, @asterchant, Arik, Locke, Maeze

[healeremeline]

Journal Entry

15th Sun of the 2nd Astral Moon

There have been many new faces aboard the ship. I think they all deserve a separate journal entry. I hope by then things will be better. 

Jun is declining. The entity in the bracelet has begun to act out against us...me. I am in a space of loving him beyond reason and terrified to be without defense near him. 

I tried to participate in the Vanguard training. Seeing as no one was jumping in for the spar, I decided to give it a try. I thought I was going to fight Katalin. I was wrong. The whole time everyone was pushing Balor’s small triggers by telling him I would own him if allowed magic. And so when I was told I was fighting with Katalin, against Balor and C’reiyah...I just got anxious. 

And in the process, he decided to make an example of me. While prone on the sand he summoned his aether and with the flat of his sword, he struck me with a powerful blow. I felt my ribs crack and knew my body left the ground because I crashed back down upon it. The pain was beyond measure, but I stayed quiet and left once I gathered myself. 

I made it to the med bay before breaking down. My magic pulled my ribs back in place, but I was bruised for days. Anhashy and Katalin caught up and the rest of my night was spent sitting on the rug with them, talking about what happened...life...romance. I felt so normal for a moment. Rosette managed to catch up in her rage of the situation. Apparently, Arik was on the beach, putting Balor in his place with logic. 

At this point, I have never felt like this. I was made a victim by someone I thought I could trust. His apologies while he attacked me still roll through my mind. He has altered me greatly. 

The following night I remained int he med bay while a mission ran. I find working nights to be the best time to focus my thoughts. It was quiet until the late hours when the room poured in with injured and staff to help. Even the Captain stumbled in, she seemed a little lost. I sat her down for tea once others were seen to. 

It felt like a night when I first started. I needed to have this night. Though it ended with Jun passing out from his attempts to fend off the bracelet.

(( @junakagane @balordullahan @katalinhunter @creiyah @rosettevaleria ))

[theboondogglepub]

A Land of Gardens Black.Part 3

Part 3: The Middle and Grey Land

    Ah, hello!  I see you are ready, something quite fortuitous as this part will be heady. What do I mean? You ask with such haste, I mean that this section has quite zesty taste. For now is the part not quite short and a little too long, where the middle roads meet and the crowd is a throng. Now we arrive, or more travel I’ll say, to the Lands of Middle, and the unspoken Grey. Keep up, sally forth, and do not delay, I cannot guarantee you’ll know the way. Down through the crossroads where two armies still block, past the forked, spooned, and knifed road with the clock. Beyond there, beyond fields, we find the encampment of Locke.

    “I cannot believe this thing!” He shouted, the multilayered, multicolored goggles flexing robotically to find fixation as Locke shouted and stared out through his many lenses. All eight eyes on his goggles seemed to flex their lenses and refocus on eight different targets in his workshop hanger. Eight giant maneuvering crane arms each the size of a 6 story building steadied around the encampment, their gears churning in loud clacks and creaks lifting various machines and tools of goldbergian nature and design to come to rest in Locke’s hanger workshop for him to work on. He huffed, and looked out at the encampment, and here is what he saw.

The whole of the encampment was easily large enough to fit 300 people with 30 large houses and bunks, and filled to capacity it was. Outside Locke’s hanger workshop the mud streets and metal buildings were filled with people of all shapes and sizes, handing over foodstuffs for coin and trading what meager goods they had. There were those of all races, the Catte (Miqo’te), Hyum (Hyur), Lol (Lalafell), Bunyn (Au Ra), Knief (Elezen), Banner (Roegadyn), and more. It was a poor settlement of people, but it was the only one free. This was The Valley of Spared Parts, more commonly known to most as The Middle, where Locke had begrudgingly accepted refugees from the Botanist Queen and Admiral of Catte’s war. It was a large settlement, and it was well hidden, kept that way by Locke’s crafty inventions that kept the whole Middle invisible from sight of both the Botanist Queen and Admiral of Cattes.

Locke flickered his ears, and pulled up his multitudinous goggles to reveal is glowing blue eyes. “I just can’t figure it out, why won’t it work?” The catte sighed, sitting down and popping the cap on a bottle of black beer. He drank slowly, bitterly and perplexed. “Where is that woman when I need her!?”

“You called?” Anhashy the mani-formed strolled in, today being a young catte woman with soft alabaster features and striking vermillion eyes. Everyone knew Anhashy for though he/she took on a new physical form every day and sometimes every few hours, they were always with vermillion eyes and soft alabaster skin. They always also showed up exactly when not asked for, a remarkable skill to have. “I believe you called for me, yes?” Anhashy the mani-formed strolled into Locke’s hanger and beheld what the catte worked on, idly amazed by it, and idly idle as she looked on at it. About to speak up about her deep and meaningful backstory, chock full of plight and dangerous criminals sure to attract attention, Anhashy was cut off as Locke blurted out.

“You? Nooooooo. No. The other one. Maeze!” Locke indeed blurted out. Stepping out from the shadows came Maeze, with her deck of cards constantly in hand.

“I saw you call for me,” she said, walking forward, a trail of shadows behind her. You said,” Maeze pulled a card from her deck, holding it up to her face and reading it. “You said ‘No. The other one. Maeze.’ I saw you doing that before you did, Locke.” Maeze spoke monotone, detached, cool and collected. Maeze was the manifold, for each day she drew a new card from her deck to divine her future, and each day she decided based on what that card said to be a different thing. Today? “So, are you relenting to let me cut and style your hair Locke?” Today Maeze was a aesthetician. She returned the card to her deck of magical future prediction cards, and prepared her comb and scissor with her free hand. “I have just the haircut picked out. A nice bob in the front, with a large afro in the back. I call it the bofro. It will be all the rage soon.”

Locke shook his head, “No I don’t want my hair cut. Where is the thingamajig? I know I left it in here in the hanger. I need it to connect to the scrabdoodle and the widget. Did you take it? Did Anhashy take it? What about one of the children from the village? This un-Boom won’t finish building itself. It needs my expert mechanical expertise to do. And I don’t have that much time left as is!” Locke looked at his wrist, a thermostat looking piece of glass rising and falling with a cool blue glow indicating some sort of amount of something left. Locke tapped the glass stick, the cool blue color decreasing ever so slightly. “I’m due for a refueling in just a few bells.” Yes, Locke required fuel.

“No,” Maeze shook her head.”Here let me see.” Flicking up a card from her deck, Maeze gently brushed Anhashy’s chalk white hair, debating on what cut to give the demure catte. “I have not seen your thingamajig today. Are you sure it was ever here? Are you sure any of us are ever here?” Maeze looked at the flicked up card. “Ah, yes. The card agrees, your thingamajig isn’t here Locke.”

“I know where it is,” Anhashy answered, her hair being braided as she spoke.

“I KNOW its not here Maeze. What I want to know is where the heck is it? I swear if one of those little brats from outside took her I am going to just-” Locke fumed and paced his hanger, throwing over boxes and baubles and metal containers and tools. He kicked his tool cart and threw his lunch pail. “Can you use your cards to see where its at? I really want to know where it is so I can finish the un-Boom and finally fix this whole place once and for all. Too much war, too much strife. Only thing to do is un-Boom it, then the Botanist Queen and the Admiral of Cattes will understand.

“I know where it is,” Anhashy answered again, her hair being pulled up into a top knot as she spoke.

“Let me look for you Locke,” Maeze pulled another card from her deck. “No, this is what I’m going to be tomorrow.” Maeze shook her head, pulling another card then. “No, this is tomorrow’s lunch.” Another card. “This is how long it takes to read one of my predictions. I’ll save that little one for later.” Another card. “This is where the heart of the world lays, and the mystery will be unfurled for all to understand… rather boring if a little weighty in ramifications.” Another final card. “And this card says… Anhashy knows where the thingamajig is.”

“Wait, Anhashy you know where my thingamajig is?!” Locke jumped up from his slump, his fuel running about half now.

“Yes,” Anhashy said plainly, her hair in a honeycomb weave above her head.

“Well shite, why didn’t yah say so?!” Locke clamored, and then they gathered, and then following Anhashy’s trail, they set out from the hanger into the Valley of Spared Parts, otherwise known as the Middle.

As they traveled across the Middle, one would spy the ever present guardian of the land, Kayne the Pure. Why? You may ask, was he called Kayne the Pure? For one pure reason, he demanded to be the tallest, which was the purest of all desires. He was a bunyn, a very special bunyn, able to leap a near malm with but a single bound, but only if he landed atop the highest perch around. Perched as he was, matter of fact, atop the highest mountain ridge, Kayne the pure looked out across Locke’s encampment, and gave a thumbs up. Everything was clear. Locke returned the gesture, then nodded to Maeze. “Weird f**ker,” Locke said. “But he keeps us safe.” As Locke, Maeze and Anhashy left the encampment, Kayne returned to his secret tryst high above view. A tiny bunyn, the Bunyn Knight in fact, falling into Kayne’s arms. It was romantic, it was sweet, it was... for another day, another tale. For now, we continue out of the encampment.

Beyond the Valley of Spared Parts, Naih the Odd stood guard perched atop her clock. “Do you seek to leave?” She said in a particularly amoral way. “The time is exactly four plus six divided by the participle of the non-existent quadrilateral angled right trapezoid on its leftmost side. Should you seek to return, do so between the bells of nine over zero multiplied by X, where X is the color fuchsia, and seven. Do we have an accord?” Naih asked, again still perched on her elaborate timed clock. She wore robes, plain and simple, and spoke words plain and simple, and it was the riddle of her clock magic that by and large kept Locke and his allies hidden from both factions that would see everything destroyed or put under thumb.  

Maeze took the initiative now, replying “We do timekeeper. Please, keep the door ready for whence we return.” Maeze had, in the time of leaving the encampment and meeting Naih the Odd, styled Locke to have a nice bob hairstyle.

On they went. Further and further away from the Middle to the Grey, a place ill-spoken of but for its constant mystery. Anhashy spoke up as they approached it. “I would not seek to go further were it not for the fact that I know who took the thingamajig. She is here, we must simply not call out for her, and she will come.”

Stepping into the Grey’s threshold, they met Aries the small. There wasn’t much to say of Aries save for the price she demanded. “PRESENT YOURSELF,” Aries cried out, and Locke obeyed. In order to cross the barrier of the Grey, one must present themselves. And so, *WHAM* Aries waddled up to Locke, aimed her fist, and crushed his warriors of light, leaving him a wheezing mess on the ground. Price paid, Lock and his two companions proceeded.

A vast expanse of crashed sailing ships, moonlit waters (no matter what time it was in fact) and broken trees, grave markers and battered and rusted weapons, the trio stepped quietly through sand and shallow pools. It was all too quiet, as if the prevalent sound of the Grey itself was silence, and it blocked out all other sounds. As they walked further in, a separate trio of men sat by a firepit, spinning some meat on sticks and laughing to one another. Locke whispered to Anhashy. “Are these the ones who took my thingamajig?” He asked, quizzically so.

“No,” Said someone else not Anhashy. Hanging high above them on a branch a nude figure in stripes of non existence laid spread out, delicate fingers strumming along the wood with a racka-tack-tack. The figure was half there, half not. Parts of her, the most intimate parts, were simply not there, and space was clearly visible between each layer in stripes. Her skin was a mix of tan and white tattoos that trailed her body, and her feet swung back and forth. Her sharp feline eyes stared down, though she was not a catte nor had catte features. “I did.” She said playfully. The Cheshire Katalin.

“Why in the hell did you take my thingamajig?” asked Locke, a bit distracted by the Cheshire Katalin’s form and movements. He knew he did a bad, for asking any question of the Cheshire Katalin, as all knew, drew either the right thing for her to say or the wrong thing, and which was true was never quite known. Insulting, genuine, insightful, infuriating, her words were as mysterious as her existence and lack thereof existence. Her body dissipated, slinking down the tree with acrobatic grace and coming to rest at the trunk roots. The stripes of her body that were missing now were slightly different, but still hiding her most intimate areas.

“Because,” She snickered. “I wanted to move things along. Besides, you’re f**king stupid.” Katalin held out her left hand, and then produced from her right hand the thingamajig. It amounted to an ‘L’ key. “Here, take it, though I don’t see what you’re going to do with it.”

Locke knew this was a trap, but it was also the only way to get correct information from the Cheshire Katalin. He played into it. “I plan on making an un-Boom to fix the land of Gardens Black.” He had laid the bait, and the Cheshire Katalin indulged. Asking her questions was beyond foolish, for you never knew what reply one would get. Making statements however, always prompted the Cheshire Katalin to respond… in excess.

“Ah, I wouldn’t do that,” The Cheshire Katalin replied, unprompted and on queue. “In fact, if you do that there may be horrible repercussions for everyone here in the land of Gardens Black. You could destroy any chance at peace, obliterate any hope of mediation. You’re far better off simply waiting to see what happens I would even say, because trying to fix things yourself and be everything by yourself to solve a problem never turns out the way you think it does.” Locke took a moment to reflect on that, and then opened his mouth to speak. “Additionally,” Katalin said, “Were I in your shoes, I would think the proper solution is to keep everyone safe as you’re already doing, and perhaps make some sort of beneficial technology outside of yet another bomb. Maybe a pair of sunglasses that help you climb stairs more efficiently.”

Locke opened his mouth then to speak, assuming Katalin done.

“Of course,” The Cheshire Katalin said, adding on. “If you bring your weapons to bare against either the Botanist Queen or the Admiral of Cattes, it would prove to cement one side in your favor, and the other against you.”

Locke waited then. Several moments stretching out into a minute. Satisfied she was finished delivering foresight truths, he began to speak. “I can-”

“You can simply not predict what your machine will do once finished, that is the truth of it all.” Katalin added finally, floating majestically through the air like a playful half-corporeal feline hybrid hyum does.

Finally, Locke nodded. “I’m going to do it anyway. What could it hu--” About to ask the Cheshire Katalin a rhetorical question, something no one must ever do, Anhashy stepped forward and shooshed his companion. Speaking of, Anhashy the mani-formed was now a large Bunyn man by the way, replete with vermillion red eyes and chalk white hair… just so you know.

“We’ll be going now. Thank you for returning the thingamajig.” Ahhashy said, towering over Locke and Maeze in height. The Cheshire Katalin nodded in reply, slipping away again into the mists of the Grey.

Stepping back out from the Grey, Locke paid the price again to Aries the Small, and spoke a little higher octave as he and his companions left to return past the forked, spooned, and knife roads to the Middle. Once they would get past Naih and her bizarre clock logic magick, they would be safe once again.

My tale is done, at least for the now, for this chapter ends not with a why but a how. How will it continue? How will it end? Where will the story reach its next bend? Is this all the cast? Is there more to be shown? Would I regale you more even whilst you moan? You seem tired as am I, so we’ll leave here to simmer, though if you’re good I may divulge little bits to glimmer. Small tales here and there as the world gets fleshed out, no need to worry, you’ve no need to pout. The Gardens Black will return strong and quite soon, just as soon as the echo falls under the Moon.

@katalinhunter

[katalinhunter]

Enjoy

Keep on riding that crest, taking pleasure in everything as it builds around you. The waves coming, rising and falling, carrying you with them. Just make sure you stay on top, right? There are dark things down there.

The days had continued to be very good, wonderful even. She had settled back into the pub, wrapping herself in its familiar comforts. There was still a touch of sadness at the loss of a morning confidant. Well, less confiding than random jabbering as she grabbed a bite to eat, but still. That was done with though, wrapped up and set aside. There had been vengeance of a sort and things were settled.

A wonderful night at the pub that had started off slow then left her in suspense. Unexpected and a bit wild, enjoyable all the same.

A couple of days later, it looked like she'd been able to help Boon recover a piece of his past. There would be fallout from there, maybe not all good, but it was necessary. Even if that ended up being just dead-ends and coincidences, taking out the slavers was good in its own right and the Maelstrom would be appeased for a bit. She'd tended to him in the medbay, just minor injuries compared to others he had received. Another happy note, another good night.

The next day there was the payoff for the bet. She'd shown off the dancer outfit the night before and enjoyed his compliments. Those of the random people who couldn't stop themselves from commenting as she passed through on her way to the apartment? Hell, she kind of enjoyed those too. Any trepidation that she had felt was gone by the time she approached the door and give it a couple of knocks. She walked in showing nothing but confidence and a content self-awareness of how the garb made her look.

She left a couple of hours later, still enjoying that feeling. There had been dumplings, a dance, a lot of heavy flirting, but most importantly... talk. Nothing of true import, but there had been a connection with the older warrior. There was a hint of wariness of course, she had only seen a small slice of him, what he had wanted to put out there. Underneath though, he seemed like someone she would be happy to have as a close friend.

Later that night with Boon, a quick challenge from him that had both frustrated and delighted her, then being together. The mission the next night with the only sour note being when the boat beneath her group had decided to upend itself, a quick moment where she had been hit in the head and started to drift in the waters, feeling a tentacle latch onto her. Anhashy and others had helped throughout as they righted the boat and pulled her back in. That was twice the au ra had saved her now, eradicating any lingering resentment that may've remained.

It was quiet after that. Boon was amazing. Solo the next night, taking care of a couple of things and giving him some space to be amazing with others. All good, she might just be wanting a bit of that herself. Let things be, keep atop the crest, enjoy the moments.

@theboondogglepub

[katalinhunter]

Reflection

"Frill and ruffles" - those were the first words she heard when she entered the company's common room. Should have been a warning there but she hadn't heeded it. A few minutes later and she was changing from her armor to something a bit more... poofy. She felt ridiculous, her hands fussing at the embroidered braids that ran across the front, the oversized decorative bow on the back. Still, it was fun to dress up and a night of eating sushi was better than the alternative.

Then a pause as she stepped back into the common room. The rest of the small group had gathered together. Those unfamiliar with Mafrea would have seen him as brooding over her and the other three, but that's just his demeanor - which gives the occasional quip an extra bit of edge when he shares it. He was to play chaperone for Emeline and Rosette, the ladies of the evening.

The pair of them looked lovely in their outfits, high quality silks and finely woven materials draping their forms gracefully. Rosette's outfit was the simpler, subtly accentuating her form while showing off the silk used. By comparison, Emeline's was a bit more formal, more concealing, with details that were delicate, precise, and intricate. The outfits fit each of them perfectly and the elegance made her feel a bit garish despite Emeline's kind comment. Then she noticed the wings.

They definitely blended in more than you might expect, but there were small wings attached to Anhashy's back. Just that bit of whimsy from the reserved Raen helped settle a bit of unease. They would be the hangers-on then, basking in the magnanimous glow of the two ladies, visiting a new sushi house and enjoying the local version of Doman culture for the night. On the surface at least.

---

The restaurant was a front of course. All of the usual underworld traffic ran behind it, local and imported troubles coming together and mingling. Some of their company's recent difficulties were tied into that mingling, so they were getting involved, seeing what they could find out. Eventually they had their meeting with an Elezen who claimed the name Neratus Hatiel.

This was Rose's arena. She had the business expertise, the familiarity with how to get things done. Katalin would keep quiet, watch, guard. Judging by Hatiel's willingness to be in the room with them and no others, he was comfortable in his position and felt that he could call on others as needed. The two talked for a bit and Rose quickly moved the conversation to more formal negotiations.

Katalin watched, a bit of unease at being probably surrounded with the exits blocked, but still thought the odds in their favor if worse came to worse. Silently evaluating the Elezen and listening more to the sounds of shuffling outside of the room than their words, staying out of the bargaining. Then the somewhat skeevy proprietor had made his offer and she couldn't help but laugh at its absurdity. She pushed back in her chair, making ready for everything to go sideways at that point. Mafrea's obvious tenseness showed that he was in agreement and she could tell that Emeline didn't want to even be here, dealing with this man, much less meeting his price.

Then there was Rose, pulling the focus back to herself, making a deal with Hatiel and setting up an arrangement for him to trust her. She knew what she had to work with, what they wanted, and was looking for a deal that would give them more. In theory they would get all they needed while he got a promise of favors and a leash on her to ensure that they were fulfilled. Conclusions finished swiftly and they left the place, scattering in their own directions.

---

That leash though... She would not have accepted the deal, would not have put herself even remotely under his control. Her way would've ended in violence probably, with less potential gain. Which is why she's not a negotiator, doesn't handle delicate matters. Rose was in charge of the situation, even if the answer she chose had elements of self-sacrifice. Have faith in people, trust them to know what they are doing, but be there to assist.

Katalin owed nothing to Rose, but that apparent impulse to risk everything struck a very familiar chord. Delayed in this case, not immediate, but still a risk. Maybe that sense of recognition drove the offers afterwards, one social and one tactical. No telling really, but they were there. If asked, she would help.

@rosettevaleria, @oroete, @healeremeline