Alleycity Thread

[Thaidakar the Ghostblood]

Darien walked down the street casually. he was going out for a walk. it had been an interesting day for him. first having to kill and lie to an old friend and then being congratulated at the base. it was a normal day, but it felt wrong.
"you know we had to do it Darien," said Elek, "he had to die, we needed the spike."

Darien nodded absently as he walked into the market. The sounds of people chattering and bargaining was somewhat comforting to him, it reminded him of when his parents were alive, when they had run a shop in this very section of town.

A man rushed up to him, he held a bowl of nuts, "nuts? dates? jewels? for a great price with deals over at the Grels emporium!"

Darien sighed, "where is this said emporium?"

"over there." the man gestured to a shop in the corner.

Darien turned, but when he saw it he nearly collapsed.

it was his parent's shop.

[+ZincAboutIt]

Lita froze as Laurelai enfolded her in an embrace. She wasn't sure what she'd expected from the slender blonde, but it wasn't that. Her first instinct was to pull away, to step backwards, but she stopped herself. One moment, Lita thought as the other woman spoke. I can be weak for one moment.

She allowed the steel in her spine to soften, the frost that had crawled into her heart to thaw, and Lita returned the embrace. A warmth sparked somewhere in her chest like she was tapping her Brassminds, and Lita remembered what it was to have a friend, and to be one. She remembered fine spirits and laughter amidst the smell of soot. She remembered Laurelai's cold hand in her own as they stood before the silent waterfall in a grotto far beneath the earth.

I missed you. She almost said it. She should have said it, but Laurelai had gone on to speak again.

"Why do we need to worry about what they wanted or expected us to do? You are not the Stranger's pet, and you are far more than simply his protege. And I am much more than just the daughter of an ancient demigod." 

That's right, Lita thought as Laurelai stepped back. She has her own reckoning to contend with. Lita did not envy Laurelai that realization, to recall that her own father was in fact the most powerful creature on earth. Laurelai continued on, more animated and passionate than Lita could remember seeing her before. Lita made herself smile in the appropriate places, presenting the facade of being bolstered by her friend's words. She should have been. 
Lita reached out for her newly-repaired glass of port, taking a moment to appreciate Laurelai's returned skill, then slid her left hand into the pocket of her dressing gown. Her fingertips met cold metal, and she shivered, pulling her hand back. That Coin had found its way to her through its own maker's elaborate Forgery, tossed by a street magician she had never met. Rage stirred again within her, curdling in her stomach as it mixed with a familiar sense of longing fascination. Lita withdrew the Coin and danced it over the back of her hand, wincing as pain lanced through her right side - sharper than before.

Will you never stop haunting me?

A whisper answered, though whether from the Coin or from her mind, Lita could not tell. "Is that what you want?" 

She rolled her neck to hide another shiver, taking a sip of port. No. Damn her for a fool, but it wasn't.

"We have some drinks and talk about what we want to do." Laurelai said, back straight and proud, a smile on her lips as she handed Lita the glass back. "So, spymistress, we're no doubt being chased by shadows that want to rob our memories, the world is slowly collapsing and two of the most powerful men to have ever existed are both locked in a near-infantile misunderstanding of their own emotions. I'm at your disposal of course, so what should we do?"

Lita smiled again, but this time it felt real. Perhaps... perhaps she wasn't entirely a fool. She dragged up one of her sleeves to reveal a thick copper band circling her arm. "What we need is a place to keep our real memories without losing them. Helpfully, Mac made me a Keeper in this world before he left. I can get you an unkeyed Coppermind for yourself as well. It will be a dicey thing, but we should do it sooner than later. Who knows when those things will return?"

She headed over to a large rolltop desk and began fiddling with a combination lock, rolling up the top after it clicked into place. Lita opened another, smaller drawer and removed a copper ring. "We will need to play this perfectly, but if we can manage to follow our original line of investigation  - with help from our real selves of course - we might be able to unravel this web."

Lita strode back across the room and handed the ring to Laurelai. "If we manage not to go insane, of course."

@Voidus

[Voidus]

The ring felt heavy as it fell into Laurelai's hand, though soon it would no doubt be even heavier with the weight of the secrets it would carry. She felt an immediate resistance to the idea of giving away the memories that she had only just regained, but at least she could be comforted that she would at least have them close to hand this time. That there would be some way for her to regain them again.

"You know I probably would have asked for a brass spike to use Copperminds." Laurelai commented, twisting the coin around and examining the carefully polished metal surface. "But the idea of wearing copper jewellery constantly was a little off-putting."

She slipped the ring on, with a grimace of mock distaste before giving a saddened smile to Lita.

"We're going to have to put everything back aren't we? Not just the Forgery itself but everything that stems from that." Laurelai's voice cracked a little before she reclaimed it. "We'll need to forget who we are again."

A shudder that she couldn't quite suppress ran up her spine, the chill thought of having to allow her very identity to be overridden once again, not in a temporary Forgery but to permanently deposit her memories in a fragile band of copper. Trusting that some day she would be able to retrieve it from there. She felt the pen twitch in her hand, though she was uncertain if that was her own nervous tremor or some magical property of the pen itself. But giving it a quick spin from one finger to another calmed her, the familiar practice settled her nerves and allowed her to speak with confidence again.

"Changing our memories will mess with it a little but I can Forge a slightly altered version of recent events as well." She offered, carefully placing her glass down. "Mine should be easy but yours wouldn't last long, but maybe long enough that if you're not actively trying to recall it anymore we can get by. No doubt you're clever enough to notice the strangeness but perhaps we'll chalk it up to the other oddities?"

Having a plan helped, uncertainty always provoked anxiety but even a bad plan was still a plan. She could manage like that for a time, and it wasn't like she would feel the stress of the decision once the memories were gone. If only she could do something about the stress she was already feeling.

Her eye paused briefly on Lita's bath robe, and after a moment of thought she gave a grin. If they were about to have to replace their identities then the least they could do was go out comfortably. A little self care would certainly make the experience easier. With a tap of the pen against her palm, Laurelai's own clothes were replaced by a similar robe, her hair became slightly damp and her skin felt immediately softened by the steam of a shower recently taken.

"I don't suppose we'd have time for room service first would we?" She asked with a hint of a grin.

@ZincAboutIt`

[+ZincAboutIt]

14 hours ago, Voidus said:

"We're going to have to put everything back aren't we? Not just the Forgery itself but everything that stems from that." Laurelai's voice cracked a little before she reclaimed it. "We'll need to forget who we are again."

Lita nodded once, feeling her lip twitch at the acknowledgment. Her hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palm where the slender blade had sliced earlier. Blood welled up between her fingers.

”Yes,” she said, not trusting herself to say more. Fury simmered just below the surface, threatening to boil over again if she gave it too much thought. Lita wanted to scream, to break every mirror in the suite and crush every fine crystal vase. She wanted to take this false reality in her hands and tear it to pieces. She wanted to find the one who had done this and plunge her bayonet into the black pit of his eye. She wanted to make him suffer, see how he liked it. She wanted to — she wanted - 

“… but yours wouldn't last long, but maybe long enough that if you're not actively trying to recall it anymore we can get by. No doubt you're clever enough to notice the strangeness but perhaps we'll chalk it up to the other oddities?"

Lita blinked as she realized Laurelai had started talking again. “Hmm? Oh, y-yes, fine, fine. Stamp. Good idea.” She cleared her throat and took another drink, trying to piece together what Laurelai had been saying. Too much port, she told herself as she ran a hand through her damp hair and pulled the heat in her cheeks into a brass ring on her right hand. Too much Tin.

Her head pounded, her mind oscillating between two opposing versions of her life. Her right side throbbed with a dull, insistent ache, muscles strained from so much tension. Something dark and poison-sweet coiled in her core, fear and fury and exhilaration and the irresistible lure of a secret just out of reach. It was too much, and in that moment she wanted nothing as much as she wanted to lie down and sleep.

But she was Head of the Department of Counter Intelligence, and there was work to be done. 

Lita took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it into the silence. When she looked back at Laurelai, the blonde had transformed into a well-pampered version complete with a fluffy robe of her own.

"I don't suppose we'd have time for room service first would we?" She asked with a hint of a grin.

Lita smirked. “I think that can be arranged.” A quick call down to the front desk had a light repast on the way. “But we should hurry, before the shadows catch up to us.” And before I lose my nerve.

”It isn’t so bad,” Lita forced a grin. “Just think, by the time dinner arrives, we won’t even remember this conversation. We won’t remember…” Lita trailed off, looking at her friend. We won’t remember us. 

A sudden heat pricked the corners of Lita’s eyes, and before she could stop herself, she had crossed the distance to Laurelai and pulled her into a fierce embrace. “We will fix this,” she whispered, so earnest that it hurt. “We will find ourselves again, I promise.” 

She pulled back, wiping her bloody hand across her cheek, and looked into Laurelai’s eyes. Blazing green met icy blue.

“I promise.”

Then Lita stepped back to her chair, sat down, and forgot.

@Voidus

[Voidus]

Startled, Laurelai was late to return the hug but it brought a warmth to her smile as she did so. She nodded at Lita's final words, blinking through the tears that began to form and echoing the promist as her friend sat down and began to drain herself of memories.

"Promise." She whispered, wiping at her eyes with a fluffy white sleeve.

Our turn now. She reminded herself. Stamps first, then the ring.

With the tears dealt with Laurelai gave a resolute nod and began to focus, feeling the stamp begin to appear within her mind as she started with the boundary followed by the unique map of the city that was required for Forgery here. And then the smaller details, the little alterations which would add up to a new history and a new reality. Hopefully enough that when she awoke she would not simply run screaming from the strange room she found herself in, and hopefully not with any details which would draw more of those shadow creatures.

Stamp completed she waited, holding the image in mind, ready to apply it. She looked down at Lita's expressionless face, wondering what their relationship would be once the two of them forgot again. She though they had been heading towards something amicable at least, still two similar individuals who could enjoy one another's company. But perhaps the next time they awoke to their memories they would have devolved into bitter feuding or dislike.

With a quiet sigh, Laurelai retrieved her glass and drained the last of it until only a faint droplet remained on the interior of the surface. She lifted it to the light and watched the interplay of light through the amber liquid until finally setting it back down. Stalling would not get her anywhere other than awkward questions once Lita awoke. With a final deep intake of breath, Laurelai let herself sink into another chair and allowed her mind to begin slipping away, ready to be replaced by a falsity.

"See you soon." She whispered to Lita before darkness took her.

[+ZincAboutIt]

Lita could feel the memories leaving her, as though they were dripping down the back of her neck, down her shoulders, and into the two bracers of Copper on her arms. She began with the simplest, circling around the core of the Forgery and tucking away the stray thoughts, the random flashes of uncertainty, the odd feelings of the past weeks. She moved inward one ring, putting away anything she’d put together about the patients at the hospital, the earthquakes, and the other odd phenomena. She was careful to leave herself with enough to go on, but not enough to awaken her immediately. 

Careful now, Lita. One wrong step, and your work will be for nothing.

She filed away that worry as well, continuing to siphon away her thoughts, her recollections, herself. As she moved further and further in, Lita found it harder to part with the memories. Meeting Laurelai in the Odd Job Tavern, the PlasmaCore party, the night spent in the ruined bar as gods fought. Those she filed away with shuddering fingers.

One more ring, and Lita tore away her memories of cool blue water, a quiet grotto and the smell of wet stone. The screaming siren call of the Chapel of Rain did not go quietly, but even that memory was not at the core. No, there was one last thing she needed to forget. 

Lita could sense that core of memories, throbbing like a heart at the center of her mind, writhing, almost alive within her. It was the icy darkness of terror, it was the silken lure of secrets, it was the hot, molten hiss of rage, and the sweet rending ache of boundless hunger. It was Him, a god or a demon or a man who had tread on starlight and dipped his fingers into the abyss. It was cold, smooth steel meeting the heat of her blood. It was a golden Coin slipped into her palm behind a pale blue door. It was her fingertips on the back of a cool hand in a cave where knowledge itself poured down into a silent pool.

I can’t, she thought, feeling the stream of memories slow. I can’t give it back, not again.

You can, something whispered back. You have a choice. There is always a choice.

Lita hovered there on the tipping point, her nerves as taut as a bowstring cranked too far. Too much tension; she would snap soon, and where would the arrow land?

Lightning reflecting on steel, gold flashing behind. Cold rain soaking her through, and a smile too white and too sharp. So close, close enough she could hear his heartbeat. Measured. Implacable. Unstoppable.

The time for weakness is past.

Lita could have sworn she heard her own voice screaming as she plunged her hands into all that memory and shoved. The Coppermind drank it eagerly, as hungry as the Void. As hungry as Lita herself. It drank and drank until there was nothing left, no more aberrant thoughts, no discordant memories. Nothing left of the real Lita Attar, but one singular whisper.

Wake up, Little Lita.

And Lita opened her eyes.

—-

Knocking. Someone was knocking at the door.

Lita blinked once, standing groggily before walking towards the door of her hotel suite. “He-hello?” She called.

”Room service, ma’am.”

Of course, dinner. She had just called down for it, hadn’t she? After she and Laurelai left the Alleys because… because —

Everything snapped into place, and Lita opened the door. A smartly dressed bellhop wheeled in a tray laden with a light dinner before nodding and returning to he hallway. She had ordered dinner after they had come to the hotel to follow the lead on the well-dressed man. The Grand was very close to the tailor, West and Carson. 

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

Lita looked up sharply; the bellhop took a step back. “What do you mean?”

”I-it’s only just, well,” he blushed, reaching back behind his head. “I’m sorry ma’am. It’s just that you’re crying.”

Lita reached up to feel that there was indeed a trail of wetness on her cheek. She brushed it away with one fluffy sleeve. “It’s nothing,” Lita said, giving the bellhop a generous smile. “Thank you for asking.”

She closed the door, feeling as though she were forgetting something. Lita shook her head, then strode back over to the dinner cart. Must just be hungry. 

“Dr. Esserethel,” Lita called, striking one of the crystal glasses with the back of a spoon. A single pure note hung in the air. “Wake up. There’s no rest for the wicked, and we have work to do.”

@Voidus

Edited April 7, 2022 by ZincAboutIt

[Voidus]

Tearing memories from herself to place in the ring was an unpleasant experience, each memory deposited with a sensation like nails on a chalkboard and her pauses between one memory and the next grew longer and longer. There was not much time, Lita had started before she had and would likely finish soon. But even so, Laurelai used the time to think, doing her best to ignore the spine-shuddering sensation as part of her mind devoted itself to the unpleasant work.

We'll forget it all. She said to herself. I'll go away and it will just be up to you.

"We're the same person." She reminded it. "Just a different history, we of all people should understand that."

And we also understand how much those different histories change a person. We're both Laurelai but we're not the same Laurelai.

She had no reply to that, a lifetime of changing other people's history, a career at a hospital where she used that ability to literally change people's minds and personalities, all of it confirmed that they may as well have actually been different people. She agreed with herself on many things but as long as it was even possible for them to disagree about something, she would not be able to truly reconcile her two selves.

"But we're both here now." She said. "We can work together."

Until you destroy me again.

"But I'll bring you back again." She told the voice. "I promise."

We'll see. The voice replied, unconvinced. We can't really know what you'll do once I've left.

No, they couldn't. A stamp could guarantee you a history but not a future. All they could do was guess at what Laurelai would do, especially since they would need to remove even more than the memories she had just regained. If only there was a certainty that she could rely on.

If only. The voice echoed back.

They looked at each other in this mindscape with identically regretful expressions before both turned at once, towards a silent sound and a gentle falling of water. A place of peace and calm, a place where questions could be answered and all knowledge gained, a place full of danger. A terrible place. A wonderful place.

"The chapel." They said in unison, longing evident in their voice.

--------------------------------------------------------

A long, clear note pulled Laurelai back from the darkness. She felt the last tremor of something unpleasant run up her spine, some resonance with something but it was forgotten almost as soon as she noticed it and her eyes steadily open. A striking woman with red hair and green eyes stood over her, waking her from her sleep and calling her attention back to the present.

"Lita." Laurelai said, blinking awake and rising from her crumpled position in the chair. "So sorry, not sure what came over me."

Wonderful impression to give your new benefactor. She thought to herself. Sleeping on the job and slouching down into a chair.

Her musings were interrupted as she noticed a delicious scent filling the room, mingling with the lingering steam and faint lavender that drifted from freshly bathed skin and the warm and toasty sensation of a fleshly laundered bath robe. It felt like luxury and comfort. It felt wonderful, almost wonderful enough for her to forget how tense and stressed she was feeling.

"Is that the food? I must confess I feel absolutely ravenous for some reason." She said, trying to shift attention and lighten the mood. Though she did feel very hungry for some reason, and strangely exhausted. Had she been running?

"Where did we get to?" She asked, with a tinge of confusion, her memory was feeling oddly muddied even for having just woken up. Though with a quick glance to a nearby empty port glass she managed to solve both that memory and why she'd fallen asleep.

"Did I mention the curious and rather well-dressed gentleman I encountered? I didn't get his name but I know his tailor, which should be enough of a lead to follow." She said, trying to shake the confusion.

The tension was thankfully leaving her now, though she was still a little confused as to why she felt it. It felt almost like waking from a nightmare, but she remembered her dream as being rather pleasant, standing beneath a beautiful and gentle waterfall. She could almost imagine its waters calling to her still.

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt]

There was an uneasiness in Laurelai’s eyes as she awoke, an echo of Lita’s earlier disorientation. Again, Lita felt as though she were forgetting something important, and again she dismissed it.

Everything is fine, she thought, waving away Laurelai’s apology. Well, everything except somehow falling asleep in front of the newest acolyte. What would she think of her? At least Lita had been the first awake.

At Laurelai’s mention of dinner, Lita felt her own hunger double. She turned back to the cart and uncovered the two dishes, revealing some kind of chicken cutlet covered in lemon sauce. There was a basket of warm rolls beside the plates, and Lita grabbed one without ceremony, tearing off a piece and doing her very best not to scarf it down like a complete savage. 

She wheeled the tray over to the table in the suite’s main room and laid out the two place-settings, stopping only to pour two glasses of cold, clear water.

”No more port, I think, or we’ll find ourselves asleep on our feet. Now please do come over here before I lose all semblance of propriety and devour my meal before you’ve even sat down.”

As she waited, Lita mused over the fact that Laurelai had somehow managed to get the name of a man’s tailor but not the name of the man himself. Her lips twisted into a little smirk. Still, it was a good way to circumvent someone’s natural guard over their identity. People enjoyed bragging about their fine taste, usually forgetting that an exclusive tailor would keep detailed records of their “esteemed patrons.” A clever move.

”West and Carson isn’t more than five blocks from here,” Lita said as Laurelai sat. She spread butter over another roll. “I’d send a courier, but personal favors are best redeemed in… well, person.”

As she went to wipe some butter off the edge of her nail, Lita caught sight of her right palm. She felt her smile falter, opening her hand wider to inspect a tiny red line that slashed diagonally along the center of her palm. It looked like a half-healed cut, though Lita would have remembered receiving such a wound. Her former feeling of unease returned, a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. 

A half-remembered instinct had her reaching into her left pocket before she could think to stop herself, and Lita frowned as she drew out a single gold coin.

That’s right. She stared at it, that prickling sensation growing stronger. The coin. From the festival. But why had she kept it all this time?

With a start, Lita realized how odd she must look, and she slipped the coin back into her pocket with a silent curse. “So,” she said, trying to cover the strange silence. “Is the food to your standard?”

@Voidus

[Thaidakar the Ghostblood]

Darien stumbled through the streets, not caring where he went, as long as he went away from his former home. anywhere but back there. 

it had shaken him, the memories and what they brought back to him... 

Elek seemed gone aswell, that hadn't happened before since- 

better not to think about those times, times before the STE, times before this blasted business of magic and forgeries, times filled with happiness, times of blissful ignorance that had nearly destroyed him.

Darien groaned as he opened the door to a random tavern that he didn't know the name of, he staggered in and sat down at the bar and put some clips on the table, not caring about how much he needed to pay, "I'll take the strongest you have, take the change."

The bartender looked at him warily, "your choice." 

Darien didn't even notice how long it took for the bartender to give it to him, or the looks people gave him as he downed it in one gulp and asked for another, or when he collapsed in a drunken haze after his third mug. 

[Voidus]

"Delicious, thank you." Laurelai said, pausing in between bites.

She was doing her best to pace herself, and eating as politely as she could manage while still feeling oddly distracted. Thankfully table manners did not consume a large degree of ones attention, or she would have missed Lita fidgeting notably. That was certainly an interesting development, the woman hadn't mentioned anything so it should have been unrelated to their current work. If Laurelai was very careful she might even find out something personal about her, she liked Lita but she would feel more comfortable with some degree of leverage over the situation. Some secret that she could learn and make use of.

She shook her had to dismiss the still-prevalent sensation of slowly falling rain.

"The tailor does seem the best place to start, I had some ideas on something else I could try, but that had best wait until later." She said.

At the very least until my head is a little clearer and I can actually remember enough to create a useful Forgery. She thought, wincing at her lack of planning.

Finally she set her knife and fork down on the plate together, surprised at how quickly she'd managed to finish an entire plate. She still felt tired, and faintly dizzy as well, but that was probably from the port she'd had earlier. She drank the last of the water in a somewhat less well mannered gulp, trying to rid herself of the last of the cloud left in her mind by the alcohol but to limited success.

"So we investigate the tailors now, try to find the lawyer, I can probably pick up the fake doctors trail at the hospital during my next shift. She didn't seem overly apt at deception." Laurelai said. "We can find out what others know first and why they're looking, if we're very fortunate we might even find some who are involved somehow."

Briefly Laurelai wondered if she should ask her father about any of this, strange coincidences and oddly manifesting Investiture were like candies for Professor Esserethel, but she wouldn't want to put him in any danger. She wouldn't say so to him but her father was not exactly someone she thought would handle that kind of danger and stress particularly well.

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt]

"Yes," Lita said, spearing a piece of chicken cutlet with her fork. "That seems like the best course of action."

There was something soothing in the way her knife sliced through the meat, a sense of method, of predictability, of control. She took a breath, reaching inward to begin burning Tin, only to find that her reserve was shockingly low. 

When did I...? She hadn't flared her Tin in hours; there should be plenty left, nearly all of it. Tin was the slowest-burning of all the metals. What had caused her to use so much?

Her sense of unease rose, that prickling sensation travelling down her back and across her shoulders like a finger drawn across her spine. She took another drink of water, then rolled her neck, trying to dissipate the knot of tension that had begun tightening at the base of her skull. A tiny pulse of pain bloomed on her right side, between her two last ribs.

Damn port. How much had she drunk? And what had possessed her to do so in front of a new acolyte? Lita ran a hand through her hair, skewering her last piece of chicken with slightly more force than was necessary. She had apparently just taken a shower, though she felt as though she could use another one. 

"Do you need a change of clothes?" Lita stood and addressed Laurelai. "I imagine many things might be too short for you, but perhaps one of the longer dresses would work."

She turned, heading towards the bedroom and adjoining closet, running a hand down her neck again. It did feel like she had been burning Tin - a lot of it. Her skin was hot, while her palms were cold and clammy. Lita took the moment alone to remove the gold coin from her robe pocket and turn it over in her fingers. It was smooth and cold, and heavier than a coin of its size ought to be. Lita flicked it up, then caught it in her other hand and danced it over the backs of her fingers. The motion felt easy as lying, the muscle memory of a habit ingrained beyond intention to reflex.

Light winked off one of the faces, throwing a golden refraction onto the wall.

Gold on the wall, script in a thousand foreign tongues - 

Lita blinked, then shook her head, setting the coin on her dressing table and picking out a simple green pencil dress. She stepped behind a dressing screen and shucked off her robe, draping it over the screen and calling back toward the door.

"Feel free to borrow whatever you like, rusts, I'm sure some of these frocks have only been worn once." She slipped on the dress, arching her back to get the right angle on the zipper, and slid the coin off the dressing table with two fingers. 

Mmmm, no pockets, she mused, weaving the coin between her fingers for a moment more and then tucking it into the neckline of her dress. Its surface was so cold it almost burned, pressed as it was right below her collarbone. Lita didn't manage to suppress the shiver this time.

"I'm curious as to your 'other methods' of discovering the answers to our mysterious lawyer and 'doctor,'" Lita said, pulling a comb through her long red hair and coiling it into a bun. "Some method of Forgery, I would guess." She secured it with a stylized hairspike, then opened another drawer to retrieve a vial of Tin, which she drank without ceremony. The familiar feeling of a full reserve was reassuring, though it did little to banish that prickling unease. If anything, it augmented it.

@Voidus

[Voidus]

At Lita's suggestion Laurelai perused her closet for something to wear. She had a vague recollection that her dress had been too stained to wear again, which explained why she'd showered, but she couldn't for the life of her find it again. She hoped that nobody had come to collect laundry while she'd been passed out on the chair, bad enough that Lita had seen that embarrassment.

Not a bad selection though, at least I'll have some choices available. She thought with a smile as she flicked from one to the other. Nothing Arelish unfortunately but some well made Scadrian evening wear.

She chose a deep blue satin dress with a v neck, somewhat bolder than usual but they were in a somewhat luxurious penthouse suite after all. Thankfully while their height may have been different they shared a similar enough build and the dress was only mildly ill-fitting. If she had a few minutes spare and something to carve with she should be able to adjust it without issue.

"Little trick I picked up from the hospital." Laurelai called back to Lita as she began slipping out of her robe. "Useful if we weren't sure how a patient would react to certain therapies or stimuli, mostly when there was a concern they'd harm themselves or others."

As she pulled the dress on and examined herself in one of the available mirrors Laurelai twisted to a few angles to check the fit, made some mental notes that she needed it a little tighter around her hips before finally nodding with satisfaction and unleashing her hair from the towel it had been kept in.

"Not foolproof of course." She continued. "And since they were being deliberately deceptive there's a limit to how much I can gain but if you try enough approaches one of them bears fruit. Mostly its dependent upon how consistent their sense of self is, harder to get much out of a career spy than it is someone making a one off lie of convenience."

She ran her fingers through her hair to begin straightening it before noticing that she had thankfully brought her bag at least, and fished a cheap brush from its interior to properly neaten up. It was a little rushed but luckily it was manageable today, she had at least not been so exuberant from fine ports that she'd created any massive tangles. Though she wasn't quite sure that she wanted to wear it down today. If they were going investigating then perhaps something a little more practical was in order.

"At the least I should be able to find out what they were trying to look for though, anything they pulled out as a distraction would be more ephemeral in a forged history while their actual intentions are firmer. That's been useful when we needed to find out if someone's hallucinations were based on any particular trauma or if they were random and caused by stimuli." She finished, hoping that she had not gone too far into realmatic theory and the consequences of Forgeries.

She pulled her hair into a neat bun, keeping it in place with a rather fine silver pen that she couldn't quite recall picking up. And then finished by pulling a strand loose on the left which she tucked behind her ear before examining the finished result. It looked well enough for now, though as she examined her hair the mirror seemed to mist up somehow, though nobody was now using the shower, and even as Laurelai tried to wipe at one of the beads of condensation on the glass it did not pull away.

A little perturbed, she turned to see Lita emerging, who seemed to have similarly prepared her hair in a practical bun. After retrieving a vial, likely her tin, from a drawer Lita quickly drank it in its entirety which prompted a brief envious desire in Laurelai to fetch another glass of something for herself but she quashed the thought as soon as she arrived. Looking back to the mirror she looked herself over one final time before giving a nod of approval that quickly turned to curiosity as she noticed that there was no more moisture on its surface.

"Strange." She muttered to herself. But then, there were many strange events in the city and phantom rain or condensation was not high on the list of priorities.

@ZincAboutIt

[I think I am here.]

On 12/4/2022 at 1:24 AM, Thaidakar the Ghostblood said:

Darien didn't even notice how long it took for the bartender to give it to him, or the looks people gave him as he downed it in one gulp and asked for another, or when he collapsed in a drunken haze after his third mug. 

Alask was in the bar. He usually frequented these places for business reasons, or to meet someone important, but those were the good bars. The expensive ones, like the Bleeding Spike Tavern. A bar like this, shoved into the corner of an alley, grimy and unwashed from years of no cleaning? No one visited here. No one important, anyway.

Someone collapsed beside him and Alask looked down at the man on the floor, the shattered mug of something strong beside him. You didn’t drink like that unless you wanted to forget something or die trying.

For a moment, no one moved from their places. The man had chosen to drink, he’d chosen to forget. The fact that he was on the floor in a blind haze didn’t make a difference. Everyone had seen worse.

Alask took one look at the man, took in the brown hair and green eyes, the sorrow of it all, and sighed. He wasn’t heartless.

“Storm-shadows, man,” he muttered as he slid off his barstool and knelt beside Darien. From a knapsack he held around him he took out an unsealed goldmind, then pressed it against the man’s forehead. “You really screwed yourself up, huh?”

Some people turned to look. Some didn’t. Alask concentrated on the man, hoped he could take away some effects of the alcohol with the goldmind. It was a precious commodity, one that Alask wasn’t too happy throwing around, but if he’d let the man die, it would’ve been on his conscience for at least a week.

“Come on. Wake up,” he grumbled, more so he could conserve the contents of the goldmind than anything else. How much did this guy drink?

[Thaidakar the Ghostblood]

2 minutes ago, I think I am here. said:

Alask was in the bar. He usually frequented these places for business reasons, or to meet someone important, but those were the good bars. The expensive ones, like the Bleeding Spike Tavern. A bar like this, shoved into the corner of an alley, grimy and unwashed from years of no cleaning? No one visited here. No one important, anyway.

Someone collapsed beside him and Alask looked down at the man on the floor, the shattered mug of something strong beside him. You didn’t drink like that unless you wanted to forget something or die trying.

For a moment, no one moved from their places. The man had chosen to drink, he’d chosen to forget. The fact that he was on the floor in a blind haze didn’t make a difference. Everyone had seen worse.

Alask took one look at the man, took in the brown hair and green eyes, the sorrow of it all, and sighed. He wasn’t heartless.

“Storm-shadows, man,” he muttered as he slid off his barstool and knelt beside Darien. From a knapsack he held around him he took out an unsealed goldmind, then pressed it against the man’s forehead. “You really screwed yourself up, huh?”

Some people turned to look. Some didn’t. Alask concentrated on the man, hoped he could take away some effects of the alcohol with the goldmind. It was a precious commodity, one that Alask wasn’t too happy throwing around, but if he’d let the man die, it would’ve been on his conscience for at least a week.

“Come on. Wake up,” he grumbled, more so he could conserve the contents of the goldmind than anything else. How much did this guy drink?

Darien stirred and groaned, "Elek?" he croaked.

Darien looked through his lashes, a man knelt by him grumbling at him. Darien opened his eyes and managed to say, "hello?"

[I think I am here.]

6 minutes ago, Thaidakar the Ghostblood said:

Darien stirred and groaned, "Elek?" he croaked.

Darien looked through his lashes, a man knelt by him grumbling at him. Darien opened his eyes and managed to say, "hello?"

The man awoke. First he groaned a name Alask had never heard of. Most likely a friend or lover or something of the like. Then, he opened his eyes and addressed Alask directly.

“Hey,” Alask said, returning the greeting. Now that the man was awake, Alask could take a better look at him, at the clothing and cloak. Alask himself was dressed in simple browns and blacks. Slum clothing. “I’m Alask. Good to meet you.”

He waved to Darien, holding up the goldmind.

“Before I go further, I want to ask if you were trying to die of alcohol poisoning. If so, it’s really no inconvenience. I can leave you to it.”

And he was honest about that. Maybe a year or two ago, the words would’ve seemed out of place coming from Alask. But a lot had changed in a year or two.

[Thaidakar the Ghostblood]

41 minutes ago, I think I am here. said:

The man awoke. First he groaned a name Alask had never heard of. Most likely a friend or lover or something of the like. Then, he opened his eyes and addressed Alask directly.

“Hey,” Alask said, returning the greeting. Now that the man was awake, Alask could take a better look at him, at the clothing and cloak. Alask himself was dressed in simple browns and blacks. Slum clothing. “I’m Alask. Good to meet you.”

He waved to Darien, holding up the goldmind.

“Before I go further, I want to ask if you were trying to die of alcohol poisoning. If so, it’s really no inconvenience. I can leave you to it.”

And he was honest about that. Maybe a year or two ago, the words would’ve seemed out of place coming from Alask. But a lot had changed in a year or two.

the man, Alask, seemed nice enough to Darien. 

Darien groaned and then looked around wildly and then sighed, he stood up dazedly. "thanks. I wasn't trying to kill myself, I was... trying to forget something."

Where was Elek? 

Darien smiled wanly as he searched his pockets to see if anything had been stolen. he cursed, his pocket watch was gone.

[I think I am here.]

9 hours ago, Thaidakar the Ghostblood said:

Darien groaned and then looked around wildly and then sighed, he stood up dazedly. "thanks. I wasn't trying to kill myself, I was... trying to forget something."

Alask stood up beside Darien, eyeing the man’s movements closely. Though he was thin, he looked like he could hold his own in a fight. And those pockets by his sides — for coins, or the perfect place to hide a knife?

Alask smiled. “You’re from around here, aren’t you? You’re no newcomer.”

He took steps towards the tavern exit. No use tempting the man for another drink at the bar.

“I only ask,” he continued, turning back to look at Darien. “Because on other planets, they have… easier ways to forget. The Nightwatcher. Soothing stations. A quick soul Forgery.”

He shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, we have all those methods here, and then some, but…”

Alask nodded his head at the shattered mug on the floor. His grin melted into something more somber.

“For some reason, drinking’s the way everyone wants to do it over here.”

He looked up at Darien.

“You must have been trying to forget some really messed up crem, hey?”

Edited April 15, 2022 by I think I am here.
I suppose becoming a Returned could help you forget your past life, too. Not as easy as drinking, though :P

[Thaidakar the Ghostblood]

6 minutes ago, I think I am here. said:

Alask stood up beside Darien, eyeing the man’s movements closely. Though he was thin, he looked like he could hold his own in a fight. And those pockets by his sides — for coins, or the perfect place to hide a knife?

Alask smiled. “You’re from around here, aren’t you? You’re no newcomer.”

He took steps towards the tavern exit. No use tempting the man for another drink at the bar.

“I only ask,” he continued, turning back to look at Darien. “Because on other planets, they have… easier ways to forget. The Nightwatcher. Soothing stations. A quick soul Forgery.”

He shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, we have all those methods here, and then some, but…”

Alask nodded his head at the shattered mug on the floor. His grin melted into something more somber.

“For some reason, drinking’s the way everyone wants to do it over here.”

He looked up at Darien.

“You must have been trying to forget some really messed up crem, hey?”

Darien nodded, the man seemed pleasant enough. "I know about those methods, I find them unfavorable, they tend to, uh, mess with a friend of mine who has my best interests at heart."

Darien said, "though generally everyone says alcohol is the wrong way, I find it a cheap way to do it."

Rusts, where was Elek? best not to think to much about it now.

He sighed and then said, "well, I should be off, I need a good strong bath if you know what I mean?"

Not waiting for a response Darien headed out the door.

[I think I am here.]

21 minutes ago, Thaidakar the Ghostblood said:

He sighed and then said, "well, I should be off, I need a good strong bath if you know what I mean?"

Not waiting for a response Darien headed out the door.

Alask tried not to look surprised as the man took off. A friend of his. That sounded eerily familiar to…

“I have a friend like that, too, you know,” he called after Darien as the man left the tavern. “If you ever need a hand, you know where to find me!”

The bar was quiet again in Darien’s absence, and Alask was unsure if the man had even heard him.

“Shadows,” he cursed as he snatched his jacket from the coatrack. A man like that was an opportunity, and Alask had just squandered it. Maybe he needed to follow Shez’s advice and be more direct. He hadn’t even gotten the man’s name.

“What are you all looking at?” he called to the few bar-dwellers who had paid attention to their exchange. They returned to their drinks, and Alask pushed himself through the thick tavern doors and into the night. The Forge was waiting.

Edited April 15, 2022 by I think I am here.

[+ZincAboutIt]

Ingenious, Lita thought, leaning against her dressing table as Laurelai detailed her method of Forgery-based investigation. Lita would have been embarrassed that someone in her department hadn’t thought of it sooner, if she didn’t feel quite so smug about having recruited Laurelai herself. The young woman was clearly a master at her craft; the hospital would employ only the best. 

And now she works for me.

Lita raised a single auburn brow at Laurelai’s choice of attire - a satin evening gown wasn’t exactly covert - but then Lita had said she could pick anything. At least it was another confirmation of Laurelai’s good taste. Lita had worn that dress to a charity gala a year ago, and she was still milking favors out of the attendees.

Enough satin and rouge and most people didn’t even bother to check who you were. They were too busy imagining who you could be in a few hours, with the right words. Fools, all of them, Lita thought. Humans had it all backwards. In the wild, the most beautifully painted creatures were usually the most poisonous.

Lita had begun burning Tin, more out of habit than any real need for observation. It was a light burn, giving her just the slightest edge. The feeling of her Allomancy helped her relax, and it was shortly thereafter that Lita noticed Laurelai wiping at the mirror.

Odd. There was nothing there; the staff kept this place almost inhospitably clean. Lita couldn’t drop a tissue in the wastebasket without it disappearing within twelve hours. She filed away the minor irregularity and pushed off the dressing table, passing Laurelai as she walked back into the main room.

”An exceptional idea, Laurelai. Do you require any materials? I’m sure I could have something delivered soon. The hotel might even have a Forger on staff who might have some of the necessaries.”

Lita spotted her shoes by the front door, then paused when her tin-enhanced vision picked up a flash of silver from beneath the armchair where she’d fallen asleep. She stepped closer, kneeling down and reaching beneath the chair to reveal a long, thin blade. It was sleek and silvery, the edge catching the ambient light of the room with a wicked gleam. The handle was perilously short; it looked more like a bayonet than a knife, and Lita was sure she’d end up cutting her own hand if she used it with any force.

That prickling sensation returned, and Lita opened her right hand to see the half-healed slash across her palm. Exactly the kind of cut made by that silver blade. What in the Survivor’s name…?

Lita closed her hand and finished crossing to the door to retrieve her shoes, slipping them on and relishing the added height. Laurelai was a tall young woman and Lita felt a bit dwarfed standing next to her. She continued to inspect the bayonet, marveling at its lightness, how the metal almost seemed to glow. She’d have to take it to R&D, get them to confirm it’s alloy. Perhaps that’s where this had come from, some prototype sent out for a field test?

The answer sounded right, but felt wrong. Lita pinched the bridge of her nose. What a day to be out of sorts. Rumors of oddities, a lead to follow, and here she was forgetting basic events like a novice.

@Voidus

Quote

This thread has now time-skipped one week! 

 

Edited April 28, 2022 by ZincAboutIt
Addition of timeskip info

[EmulatonStromenkiin]

Demaren Technotic woke in a ring of six standing stones, on a large stone circle divided into six different colors. Each color in the circle corresponded to the color of one of the six standing stones. There was an impossible black, a glittering red and gold, a soft grey, a deep blue, a jade green, and a strange, pure white that was hard to look at. In the near distance, he saw the silhouette of a city that covered half of the horizon. He sat up in a flash of memory of the ruins he had been escaping from, but then unbalanced and fell to his left, the side on which he had only a stump of a leg. He let out a strangled grump of irritation.

"Still not used to this lost leg," he grumbled as he sat up more carefully to stay in balance. "Now, where did I that bag go?" he looked around more, and saw that the bag containing the strange linked pairs of gems and the device he had been told by his former Epic master was called a soulcaster was right next to him. His face darkened at the thought of his former master, and of Epics in general.

"Nothing but a lot of fiendish villains with overblown egos," he muttered. He grabbed the bag and saw, to his relief, that the cane he had salvaged from scraps in the wreckage of the Epic Nightweaver's base was right next to it. It had originally been wood, but he had transformed to a more durable material with the soulcaster. He attached the bag to his belt, then maneuvered himself up with the cane into a standing position. He slowly and unsteadily made his way out of the circle, and began to make his way towards the city.

[Voidus]

Lucien Esserethel walked the streets one arduous step at a time. He recalled only a few days prior when he had sprinted along the cobblestone to the hospital, fearful that something had happened to Laurelai. Now, he couldn't even bring himself to reply to the concerned messages that she'd left him, even if he summoned up the energy his tone would probably only leave her more worried or upset than before.

"Excuse me." He muttered as he brushed past a Nalthian woman with a Lifeless servant in tow. The woman seemed startled to realize he existed, giving off even less of a presence than the servant.

He felt trapped. He'd occasionally had bouts such as this before, but on most of those occasions he'd managed to overcome the listlessness with the glee and excitement he found at the hospital. So what could he do now to overcome this feeling?

A dim cavern flashed through his mind, the gentle falling of water into a silent and peaceful pool. It was almost an attractive prospect, but along with the peace and the rain he saw a horrifying figure in that cavern. A monster in the shape of a young girl who smiled sweetly at him as she showed him horrifying visions. Was this what he had seen in those waters? Or were there somehow even worse horrors that awaited him in the future? The vision in his mind gave him no answers now, only that terrifying smile and those knowing eyes.

He almost stopped as that memory led to others, to the hospital where he had been told what had happened. Where they had handed him the letter that she had written him, the letter he still hadn't read. It seemed to drag at him now, weighing him down and rooting him to the spot. But agonizingly he moved another step forwards, climbing the steps up to his front door. Then he just needed to raise his leaden arm, pull out his keys, open the door.

Finally inside, he barely managed to stumble into the sitting room and collapse into a chair.

He wasn't sure how many hours it took, sitting there and willing himself to reach into his coat, pull out the letter and read the final words she would ever say to him. Dimly he felt his body aching from holding the same awkward position that entire time, but moving himself felt more painful than enduring. The room was dark by the time he finally moved, trembling, his hand pulled the thin paper from his pocket and almost froze again upon trying to open it. But if he stopped now, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to start again.

"Get it over with." Lucien muttered to himself, voice a raspy growl.

Carefully opening the letter, he felt something heavy drop out. It slipped from his numb fingers and into his lap, glinting with a dull sheen in what little light remained in the room. He recognized the warm colour as copper, though he wasn't sure where Vivical could have retrieved something so thin and made out of copper like this. The sheen was broken due to something covering some of the surface of the metal. Thoughts moving with glacial speed eventually identified it as blood. Her blood. He braced himself for another stab of pain, but in its place he felt a small trickle of warmth and his lips curled for the briefest of instants into a smile. It was so very like her to give him a piece of blood-soaked jewelry that she'd made herself.

He tried to keep the smile, used what energy he retained to try to keep his muscles in position. He wanted to be happy with her, even if it would be for the last time. But as he flipped the paper open to see the picture inside he felt himself lose the battle, the smile slipped and he didn't know how to make the expression again. With a resigned sigh he looked at Vivica's last gift, a drawing of the two of them together. Just over their shoulders a small purplish orb with tentacles hovered with a happy smile. Bennington, her imaginary friend who kept her company.

"I hope that wherever she went you're still there Bennington." Lucien whispered. "She could use a friend."

At least one of us should still have one. He thought to himself bitterly.

Beneath the picture was a short note from Vivica, it had none of the usual hallmarks of a suicide note.

Dearest Nox,
This earring is for you. You have to remember. For me. I’m sorry I missed our coffee. I know I would have loved it.
Always, Vivica

He had to remember? Did she think so little of him that she thought he would forget her just because she was gone? Much as forgetting might be easier, Lucien knew that he would remember the cheerful young woman and her always enjoyable conversations for the rest of his life. Every time he made a coffee, drew a sketch, walked into an alleyway. He would remember.

It seemed that the small, bloodied piece of bent copper was meant to be an earring. It was so crudely made that it was far from obvious, Vivica's enthusiasm for handiwork had often outstripped the simple resources she had available. The earring was covered in her blood still, and who knew where she'd found it? It would almost certainly cause an infection if he actually wore it. At the very least he should wash it, maybe he could find some kind of case to keep it in, as a reminder.

Numb fingers picked the bloodied piece of metal from his lap, and with a smooth motion, faster than any other time he'd moved since the hospital, he felt the dull pain of metal piercing skin.

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt]

Between instants of time, there is a space, a divide between what is, and what will be. It is infinitely small, but infinite smallness is still an infinity. It is the perpetual liminality, the constant, looming threshold of the cosmos. It is the Endless Determinance, and that is where he waited.

There was Nothing within the Endless Determinance. But he was used to Nothing. He had bathed in Nothing for endless eons, had watched whole star systems melt into Nothing, dragged into that ruthless, ravenous deepness until there was only Nothing left. Nothing, and him. 

Amidst the Nothing, it would have been easy to forget. To banish the brief and foolish foray into the world of time and men and mortality. To forget about coffee and metal and red, red, red. To forget about her. But there was something else hanging in the Endless Determinance: the thread. And the thread would not let him forget.

It was impossibly slender, a gossamer strand that stretched off into the eternity of the Endless Determinance until it found, presumably, the doorway. It hung slack now, the slightest violet glow pulsing weakly through its length like the heart of a dying thing. He watched that glow move through the thread and then into his own body - which should have been impossible. But it was not impossible, as it was happening. That was so. He waited there. He was good at waiting. What was eternity to an eternal creature, after all? He did not fear madness, the same way a man did not fear a box of chocolate. Madness was food.

He waited, and waited. There was Nothing. And then, like a kite reaching its end, the thread pulled taut. He was ripped from the Endless Determinance with terrible force. Nothing ended. Something began.

He was floating in a small, dark room. Before him, at about eye level, was a blonde man who looked vaguely familiar. Various deep things that functioned roughly like memories flowed into place. Yes, he did know him. The Lonely God, the man who had been blinded by his only friend. The girl had been so very fond of him. The girl. Vivica.

A cold and terrible thing moved within his spirit at the thought of her, his little Vivica. The bright spill of her mortal blood on the porcelain sink. The rending agony of being torn from her mind, from her very soul, by a slender rod of copper. And the deep icy grind of a rage that was older than Nothing. She had wanted to free this pitiful thing, this Nox. This man who had once been more than a man. He could do that. For her.

And then he would bring to bear the weight of Nothing upon the mind of an arrogant godling.

Bennington glided towards the man in the chair and turned a single, graceful loop. He pulsed violet. He wiggled his eight stubby tentacles. And there was Nothing in his eyes.

@Voidus

[Voidus]

The days passed far too quickly for Sudiov, there was one problem after another. First Voidus had nearly travelled to his old well of power, which surely would have been a disaster. Then when Sudiov had tried to avoid that he had been redirected to a well of infinite knowledge that the Stranger had sealed away. Sudiov had felt that brief instant where his rival had regained his memories before recoiling from what the chapel offered.

Thankfully Voidus had not visited the Chapel again, but that girl had remained. Subsisting off of the tiny trickle of Stormlight she had harvested. He had no ability to know her thoughts, but he doubted she was planning anything good. Still, as long as she was in the Chapel she was harmless. She had fallen for the trap and would eventually starve or die of thirst.

But the Forgery still weakened, more and more people had regained snippets of memory. It was only a matter of time before enough broke free that it would cause a collapse, uhim to tnless that is they could all be tracked down and restored in time. But at this rate the Forgery was hardly acting as a preferable alternative to what had been before. Peace maintained on an ocean of blood was no true peace.

But now, one of the most problematic and persistent individuals had passed away. It was only a drop in the bucket, but the girls death had been enough of a relief on resources that Sudiov had some hope that things may indeed be recovered. Or he had, right up until five seconds ago when what remained of his connection to Voidus alerted him to something happening that terrified him. He felt the patchwork Forgery that concealed Voidus' soul be torn through. A vicious tearing of spiritual matter that only Hemalurgy could explain. But one spike would not be enough to break the Forgery would it?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Professor Esserethel felt a jolt of something pass through him as the copper pierced through his ear. Something more than cold metal. Like a key turning in a lock, or the final pieces of a design falling into place. Like...

"Like a well-iced dessert." He mused, somehow managing to smile again at the thought.

A flash of purple caught his eye as something circled slowly from behind him to the front, swimming elegantly through the air until it turned to stare at him. It glowed with a violet light and waved its multitude of appendages at him in a sight that should be terrifying, but somehow Lucien found it oddly comforting. He gave the figure a wry smile, looking it over before looking down at the picture in his hands.

"Bennington?" He asked, identifying the creature from Vivica's drawing. "This must have hit me harder than I thought if I'm hallucinating."

[+ZincAboutIt]

Bennington caught a familiar gleam in the man’s eyes, an echo of the quicksilver madness that had so deeply permeated his Vivica. The thread that had once bound him to her now stretched forth from the Professor. Bennington drew on that thread, and a sip of insanity trickled through the bond. It tasted different - more body, more weight, more complex. He could get used to it. Yes, indeed he could. 

Bennington turned another loop, then allowed himself to blush a deeper purple for a moment, stretching toward indigo, elongating just enough, just a hint. A hint of that glacial rage, the blade of an infinite scythe of Nothing. A sense of memory. 

[Remember.]

@Voidus

Edited June 11, 2022 by ZincAboutIt