People you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley

[Voidus]

Bleary eyed, Laurelai set a cup out for her morning coffee and started preparing breakfast. She felt unusually irritable that morning but as she mechanically consumed toast and caffeine she gradually awoke and managed to shake some lingering sense of irritation. Habitually she combed a hand through her hair and almost instantly shuddered at the sweaty mess of tangles it had become. She scowled at it before resigning herself to a long morning of preparation and headed to her bathroom to shower.

Must have left the heating on last night. She mused, dragging a hand through the tangles again. I should really ask dad to fix that Aon sequence at some point so it turns itself off.

Towel in hand she turned the shower on until it hit a perfectly warm temperature, and was about to step in when on impulse she turned it down a fraction to a little cooler. Reasoning that it might help cool her down after what was presumably a night of tossing and turning from the heat. As she stepped under the waters she sighed almost instantly, feeling the anger at the state of her hair, the lingering irritation from the morning, the stresses of the day all washing away. She stood there for some minutes without moving before even reaching for soap and shampoo, and when she finally stepped out from the shower and headed to her wardrobe to select clothes for the day she was shocked to notice that over an hour had passed already.

"As if I wasn't already going to be late enough." She cursed, irritation returning. "Need to get this mess sorted with as well."

She attacked her hair with a fury, wincing a little as the fine hairs caught almost instantly in the brush. With a little more patience and another 15 minutes she finally managed to return it to its usual state. By the time she'd dressed she was even more tense and irritable than she had been before the shower. She opened the door with a deep preparatory breath, and shot a longing look back towards the shower, wishing that she could just return to those relaxing waters where she didn't have to worry. She hesitated in the doorway, teetering for a moment before finally and reluctantly stepping out onto the streets.

"Are you alright miss?" Someone said nearby, ignoring her attempt to sidestep them and reaching out a hand to her shoulder. "Day's just started, you should try to start it with a smile."

Laurelai recognised the tall, heavyset man as one of her neighbours, though she couldn't at that moment bring the name to mind. She shot him an icy and withering glare, causing him to flinch back before his hand could quite make contact and she used that moment to step past him without a word. With steady but long steps she swept her way into a nearby Alleyway, giving a half glance behind her to check that he hadn't followed her and breathed a sigh of relief.

No need to go off at him like that. She chided herself. You're acting like a child throwing a tantrum, deep breath and get a hold of yourself.

Nodding in affirmation she took a second to breathe deeply, trying to relieve some of her tension. The cool darkness of the Alley helped a little, and she felt her shoulders loosen a little bit, her muscles just slightly relax enough that she could recover. Satisfied she checked quickly to see if she had received any messages, gave a frown that nearly turned into another scowl as she saw that her father still hadn't replied to her but decided to ignore it as she stepped into the Alleys proper.

Time to get to work.

@ZincAboutIt

[Fatebreaker he/him]

"Good evening, Little Lita."

The stranger grinned down at her as they danced in graceful circles around the room. They were going opposite the flow of the other dancers, yet they never so much as brushed another person's sleeve. He led them through the maze of dancers with careless ease, his step unnaturally light, like a shark swimming through the water. The gold on his clothes sparkled in the light, but not so brightly as the spike through his eye. 

"I do hope I'm not cutting in?"

Lita startled at the words, seeming to remember where she was. She did her best to regain her rapidly fleeing composure and respond with a demure smile, "I'm sorry my lord, you seem to have me at a disadvantage, please remind me of your name?" Rusts, why did she just admit she didn't remember his name? That could be perceived as a slight, or even as deliberate rudeness. Lita cursed mentally, she was all thrown off. It must have been her argument with Forian, that's what was throwing her off. She needed to rally, to pull herself together. She couldn't let Forian down, that would only make him angrier.

"Indeed, I do." the stranger replied, nodding his head in acknowledgement, "An old habit, regrettably, one that is deep set and hard learned." He spun her out unexpectedly, then quickly back in again, holding her a little closer than before. " In fact, were we to meet on equal footing I would be quite worried for my safety." He winked, or was it technically a blink? Lita's mind was reeling, this conversation was nothing like she was prepared for. The sheer amount of impropriety should have been drawing glances and comments, but not a soul seemed to notice. She tried to catch her breath as she struggled to decipher what he could possibly mean by that last comment. 

"My lord, I'm not sure what you're implying but..." He cut in before she could finish her thought, "Oh, I'm quite sure you do, even if you don't know it. But come, I am spoiling the mood. I must thank you for my invitation, this is not at all what I expected when you bid me to join you. This is quite a different  setting from our usual rendezvous'." The stranger  looked at her intensely. "And you seem to be different as well. A sheathed blade, rather than a fixed bayonet. Tell me, Little Lita, where is your fire? is your spark in need of," he leaned in and whispered in her ear, his voice deep and full of unspoken promise, "kindling?"

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

His words sent a molten current coursing through her veins, hot and keen as a Tin flare, and Lita felt her nerves ignite like a magnesium match. She could hear her own heartbeat like thunder and feel every thread of her silk shift against her skin and each fiber of fine wool on the stranger’s suit coat beneath her fingers and his breath on her neck was as hot as a forge and —

Lita tried to think through the wave of sensation, to regain some measure of her composure. The light in the room reflected off the spike in his eye, and the gold of his buttons winked at her. 

Golden writing on the wall, all the secrets of life itself scrawled in a master’s hand.

“My lord,” she managed, trying to banish the odd thought, “you speak as though we have some sort of history.”

“Quite,” he responded, and Lita could hear the grin in his voice.

“Then,” she continued, sure that her ear cuffs would melt off from all the heat she was storing in them, “I’m afraid I’m not in on the secret.”

Lita forced herself to think clearly, to replay the man’s words with a spy’s trained clinical analysis. It was like trying to see through dense fog; shapes loomed just out of her vision, and no amount of Tin would let her pierce the veil. 

The stranger chuckled deep in his throat, leaning back slightly to flash her a slice of teeth. “I would never deprive you the pleasure of hunting down a secret on your own, Little Lita. Besides,” he spun her again, still moving counter to the rest of the couples, before pulling her back into place. His voice was like the finest port - dark, sweet, and heady as sin. “You’re already so close.”

Lita shuddered. So close. Lita was surprised she hadn’t already caused an open scandal, dancing so intimately with a complete stranger. Forian would be furious, though for some reason Lita was no longer very concerned with Forian. This stranger though… Lita was growing increasingly sure that she did know him. There was something in his voice, that prickle that ran across her skin, the way it stirred something in the core of her to rise, to seek, to take. The promise of knowledge and the power that went with it.

‘I never break my promises.’ The half-recalled words quickened a sudden pain in her right hand, and Lita slid her fingers from the stranger’s shoulder to glance within. A single red line ran diagonally across her palm, a slender scar made by an equally wicked, slender blade. Not a sheathed dagger, but a bayonet.

Lita felt the world slide by slowly as a sudden wave of vertigo crashed over her. Her fingers scrambled for purchase, clutching at the stranger’s lapel as she felt her knees weaken for a moment. He supported her with ease, not even breaking the rhythm of his effortless waltz.

“It’s right there, isn’t it Little Lita?” He said, voice low and tinged with amusement. “The answer. The secret. Right on the tip of your tongue.”

Memory surged through Lita, plunged like metal into her blood. He was indeed a stranger, but a Stranger she knew. Lita stared into that deep, endless eye and heard herself exhale a single broken note. 

He grinned jaggedly, clearly enjoying her turmoil, and Lita’s ravenous desire tangled in the snarls of a sudden fury that nearly blinded her. Two opposing hungers warred within her. She wanted to cut her throat on the edge of that smile; she wanted to tear him apart. 

She tilted her head towards him, carving that smile into her memory. “More like the tips of my fingers,” she whispered. Then she drew her right hand back, palm open, and aimed all of that new fire right at his cheek.

@Fatebreaker

[Voidus]

Professor Esserethel studied the water for some time, along with the figure inside of it. The young girl barely moved, numerous times he was concerned that she'd stopped breathing entirely and her corpse was simply being puppeted but her colour did not pale and she continued shallowly breathing. He tried on multiple occasions to retrieve her or push her away but she reacted instantly to each attempt and seemed much faster than he was.

"Well what are we going to do with you now?" He wondered. He pulled out his pocket watch, a recent Fabrial design that he was quite fond of.

Startlingly it had been several hours already, and given that he was in an unknown dimension right now that could cause additional time dilation. Jumping several years into the future was certainly an intriguing scientific prospect but he did have people he cared about to consider.

The pocket watch slowed and stopped as a stream of tiny light drifted from it towards the figure in the water. He watched the thin lips part to breath the Light in as it reached her and with the faintest of smiles she finally met his gaze. Thinking that this might be a single opportunity to try to retrieve her and find out what exactly was happening, the Professor approach and reached a slow cautious hand towards her. This time the figure did not instantly pull away, it allowed him to get close until his hand was almost touching her before in a sudden burst of movement the figure reached out and pulled his hand into the rain.

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

Whisper was floating in glorious, infinite knowledge. She had the comfort of knowing her gods were real, knowing that one stood in the room with her, slumbering though he may be. She wasn't sure what to think of that, that one of her gods had effectively caged another. Simpler was the realization that her entire life had been manufactured by one of these gods, that her very worship of them was itself an artificial construct.

Beautiful. She thought as she looked at the broken spiderweb of Investiture that flooded the planet, subtly tweaking its history in a million different ways. Beautiful purpose created by their design.

Even sped up as her thoughts were, it took her time to process the vast flood of information that she was receiving. She quickly realized she had spent far too long selfishly digging into visions of the past where she could see her gods in their full glory. She needed to understand the now, understand what they needed her to do next. Beginning with finding a way to awaken the one who slumbered.

In slow motion she saw him, chained to a mortal body. He was concerned for her, trying to save her from the waters. The thought made her happy beyond anything she had experienced but she also knew that it was a desire born from ignorance and this false body. This was not who he really was. The true Lonely God was dark and terrifying as the Void.

As he pulled a watch from a pocket Whisper smiled, she had been waiting for this eventual moment since the waters first whispered to her of the watch. She had burned through all of her own light when she entered the rain, but now she had a new source. Smiling, she took a long, steady intake of breath and willed the Stormlight from the gemstone in the watch to flow towards her body. She felt the familiar rush of energy at the Light, now feeling so dim and distant compared to the bounty that the water offered her. The Light already flickered within her, unable to sustain itself for long. Perhaps only for a single weaving.

Then we'll have to let the waters show him what he needs to see. She thought. In an instant the waters showed her the outcome of that plan as clearly as if it were happening already.

The Professor reached forwards as she knew he would, and just as he hesitated at the boundaries of the rain, unsure how tou grab her without exposing himself, she moved in a sudden flash and pulled his hand forwards. Not enough to trap him here or fight her for the waters, just enough to give him a glimpse of what was and what will be.

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

Voidus froze as the water touched him, unlocking memories that had been sealed away and burning bright pathways of knowledge into his mind. He saw the Stranger at work in his forge, resolute expression as he set to change the world itself for a friend. He saw the changes in those around him, the daughter who he could not openly acknowledge, the acquaintance who became a friend even while she was trapped in a mental hospital.

He saw a burst of crimson from a wrist, saw a sad, painful smile form on her face as she looked for a friend she could no longer see. Saw her body lying on the ground, letter beside her. He felt a burning sensation grow within his chest, felt himself reach out for something, for nothing. He tried to feed his anger into the Void to draw on it but the rain washed the feeling away as quickly as he could summon it, trapping him in an endless loop of eerie calm followed by mounting rage. He felt stifled, he wanted to pull away but couldn't move. He wanted to stop seeing but the waters showed him whether he wanted to or not. Showed him that sad smile, the hope of what she wanted. Showed him what she sacrificed and just how painful that decision was for her. Again and again he saw the splash of crimson and felt his chest tighten a little more

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The Professor wrenched himself back from the water, gasping for air like a drowning man and clutching at his chest. Tiny flashes of memories still struck him with the weight of a truck but even those dim flashes were fading now until he could not even remember what it was that had startled him so. Something about a friend? Some kind of danger?

'Bring more Light.' A hoarse voice whispered from the walls around him. 'Tell no one else.'

He stared at the young girl within the rain, her tiny smile seemed distinctly more sinister now as she slowly retracted the arm that she had used to pull him into the waters to show him... something.

"What did you do to me?" He asked, his own voice cracking as he found his throat suddenly parched. "What are these waters."

'Bring more Light.' The voice repeated, growing fainter already.

He stared a moment longer as he caught his breath, and then ran from the terrifying cavern and its new, malevolent resident.

[Fatebreaker he/him]

 

Lita's hand flew through the air in what felt like slow motion. Almost instantly she felt a surge of panic. Oh Rusts, what am I doing? But the fire was stronger than the fear and she followed through with the blow. And as she did, the Stranger held her eyes, as if he could read the thoughts behind them.

Her hand connected with a resounding slap, turning the Stranger's head with the force of it. For an instant it felt as if the world held its breath. Fear threatened to overwhelm Lita, but her rage was yet stronger still. And then the Stranger turned back to her, and his smile was wicked and pleased. "There it is."

Lita felt her cheeks burning as if she had been the one to receive the slap. This man showed not even the slightest sign of discomfort, which was so much more frightening than rage or shock. Then, to make matters worse, he began to laugh, rich and deep, throwing his head back as it rolled out from him in waves. Lita felt the anger overtaking her fear, and she spoke with simmering rage, "Do I amuse you, sir?" The Stranger looked down at her, "Indeed you do, Little Lita, and I am sorry for that. Because if you didn't your life would undoubtedly be more pleasant, and less full of fear. But I think that isn't what would make you happy. Because you," and his grin was deadly sharp, "are hungry for more. And that hunger is what drew me to you, and now you to me. What a delightfully insidious cycle we find ourselves in." 

This was too much, and Lita let her hand fly once more, feeling her indignation feeding her rage. But this time the Stranger spun her even as her hand flew, using her own momentum to send her in a dizzying spiral. Just as it felt like she would crash to the floor, he caught her, one hand around her waist, the other caressing her face. Lita felt her heart pounding like thunder, surely loud enough that the whole room could hear it. The Stranger was watching her, the mirth evident in his expression as he leaned into the dip till their faces were almost touching. “You really do look ravishing. I’ve never had the chance to tell you just how striking you are, have I? Or rather, it’s never been the right moment.” He lifted her out of the dip into a spin across him, then held her at arm's length, taking her in with his gaze. “But tonight we have all the time that we could want. So I will take this opportunity to tell you that you look stunning tonight. With one exception…” He spun Lita back in till her back was up against him. She felt his hand trace a line along her jaw and down her throat, till it rested on her collarbone. Then, with a sudden twist he snapped the emerald necklace and held it up to his eye level. “I never cared for collars.”

The green jewels caught the light of the chandelier, glowing softly. “This is a chain around your neck, Lita Attar, as sure as a slave collar. It robs you of choice, binds you to that cremling of a man. I don’t use collars, I like people to make choices. So now you have a choice, Little Lita.” he tossed the necklace casually away. Lita reached out for it instinctively, making to step forward after it, but the other hand held her close against her dance partner. His voice was a blade, the tip tracing lightly against her skin, “you can choose that collar and the dream will go back to what it was. I shan’t trouble you further. Or you can stay,” and his voice took on a velvet undertone, “and you will remember that which will allow us to talk in earnest. What do you choose?”

Edited May 20, 2022 by Fatebreaker

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

Lita watched the necklace sail through the air until it hit the floor with a light clatter. Immediately it was swept underfoot of the other couples, and she lost sight of it for a moment as a pair moved in front of her. But she did not miss the sickening ‘crack’ that echoed seconds later. 

The Stranger was still holding her close, her back to his chest, one hand curved around her ribcage. She could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat in counterpoint to her own, pulsing against her. So much slower than her own racing tempo - yet still slightly elevated. 

“What do you choose?” His voice was night in summer, warm and deep and full of every promise. Lita could still feel the burning trail of his fingers along her jaw, down her throat - a line of fire that smoldered distractingly as she tried to think. “I -“ she whispered, then faltered, her voice catching in her throat as the dancers before her parted to reveal Forian’s necklace where it lay on the floor.

Tin allowed her a perfect view of the cracks that had spiderwebbed throughout the gorgeous center emerald, and the soft dust on the dance floor that had come from one of the crushed pearls. Except emerald didn’t crack, and it took more than a careless heel to crush a pearl. Lita’s mouth tightened into a silent snarl. It wasn’t even real. The flawless emerald, the strings of delicate pearls - they were nothing but tinted glass and painted plaster. And despite all her metal, she, little slum girl that she was, could not have told the difference.

Lita felt a well of shame open up within her, the knowledge that she had been bought so cheaply and been so grateful for it nearly made her sick.

The Stranger waited silently for her answer, holding both of them still as the rest of the room spun about them like figures in a wind-up box. She turned her head slightly, letting her hand, once outstretched towards the necklace, drop to her side. “Surely,” she spoke, feeling the heat of both anger and anticipation on her tongue, “you already know what I will choose.”

“Do I?” He answered, lifting her arm upward with a feather’s touch until it arced backwards, her fingertips meeting the side of his face. She could feel his smile. “I cannot read your mind, Little Lita, and even if I could, the choice is still yours to make.” He ran a single fingertip down the inside of her arm, then down her ribs, pausing between the last two as a bolt of pain seemed to rise to meet it. “You always have a choice.”

Lita bit her tongue to avoid crying out, though whether from pain or something sweeter, she didn’t know. She felt like a fiddle tuned too tightly, every string at its breaking point, and the Stranger was preparing his bow. “I choose to stay,” she whispered, the words tearing out of her mouth before she could catch them behind her teeth. Her head tipped backward of its own accord, still listening to his heartbeat. “Good choice,” he breathed into her ear, then spun her back to face him, pulling her so close that she could feel the buttons of his waistcoat through the silk of her gown. “I do hate to cut a party short.”

The music shifted slightly, tempo sliding upward even as it became more sinuous, and for a moment they said nothing, learning this new melody. “I know what it is you want,” the Stranger said, voice slicing through Lita’s reverie with surgical precision. “Because it is also what I want.” Lita felt her fingertips bite into his shoulder where she held on; her mind felt like it was on fire. “And what is that?” She said, pleased at how steady her voice sounded.

“Why, secrets, of course,” he responded, smile sweet and sharp as honey on a blade. Lita did her best to conceal her disappointment, but felt her cheeks grow hot. He laughed softly. “Isn’t that what you told me you hungered for, the day we first met? Do you remember it, Little Lita?”

“I…” Lita felt her eyes flutter closed for a moment, and as she did she saw the scene as it was. Her at the little table, a spoon in her hand, and a shadow in her doorway. “Yes,” she murmured. “I do remember.”

“All the truth of the world,” the Stranger whispered, and Lita saw golden script behind her eyes, gold and shadow and a bright Coin in a dark hand. “And you wanted it. You had tasted a sip, but you wished to be drunk. Look at me, Lita.” She opened her eyes, the sudden raw edge of his voice catching her off guard. He stared into her, light from the chandelier glinting off of his iron eye and disappearing into the darkness of his other. “There is a storm within you, there at the core of your eyes. Do you remember the storm? The night the city tore itself to pieces. Rain in the alleyway, tin on your tongue, steel in your blood. Do you remember? Do you remember breaking apart even as you were remade?”

Lita felt the Stranger dip her backward, leaning with her, and the dissonance of two lives warred in her mind and crackled for a moment before one shook - then shattered. Lita’s breath caught as the full force of that memory - all the pain and glory - hit her at once. She gasped. He pulled her back upward, turning her so her back once again pressed against him. This time he kept dancing, his voice low and insistent against her ear. “Do you remember the Chapel, Lita? The cool blue lure of it, the silent siren’s song of boundless knowledge? Do you remember stepping beneath that water and tasting a secret so sweet you thought it couldn’t be real? The outline of a plan so audacious that it could only be executed by a madman? Do you remember how close you came to your death, dancing on the knife edge?”

He took her left hand, bringing it up towards his face, before softly kissing each fingertip. His mouth was lightning against her skin. Lita felt her heartbeat accelerate to a speed that nearly frightened her, even as her mind accelerated faster, memories blooming like drops of blood into water. “Do you remember how your fingertips on the back of a cold hand stilled the wrath of a mad god, Little Lita? Do you remember what he asked of you?”

“My memories,” Lita said, turning her head to try and see the Stranger’s face, but he held her fast. “He wanted my memories.”

“Indeed,” came his voice, tinged with something jagged, slightly bitter. “A hypocrite, to speak so often of price, then demand such a gift for nothing. Rather like your lordling, I think.”

Lita blinked, missing a step in the dance. “Forian?”

“Tell me about him,” the Stranger continued, turning her around to face him. His smile was back, that familiar blend of predatory and amused. Lita raised an eyebrow. “You want to know about Forian?”

“I wish to know about you,” he said. “I have given you plenty of secrets this evening, Little Lita. Heady truths. It is only fair that you should give me some of your own, so I might also get drunk.” He winked, and Lita knew it for such despite his only having one eye. Lita scoffed, but she found herself speaking nonetheless. “He used to frequent my father’s soothing parlor, him and his gang. My father was a fool, always being swindled by his customers despite his Allomancy. He was overjoyed to have some ‘noble patronage,’ never mind how suspicious it was that a group of lords met in a Sixth Octant slum. I used to eavesdrop, til one day I realized I could get more than just information if I proved myself useful enough.”

She heard some of the edge in her voice, and looked over her shoulder at the ruined necklace. The collar that was nothing more than a cheap trinket, the sort of thing you would give to a street whore. “Useful, like a tool. A tool who thought itself a person. Silly me.”

The Stranger’s fingertips grabbed her chin with surprising force, dragging her face upwards. It didn’t hurt, but the fervor in his black fathomless eye frightened her. “The only thing that suits you worse than a collar is self-pity, Lita Attar,” he hissed. “You may be used like a tool, but that does not mean it’s what you are. You are a fire, and however useful a fire might be, it burns for its own sake.”

“Why are you saying this?” Lita demanded, confusion curdling into ire at his words. How dare he lecture her, tell her what she was and was not to feel?

“There is still a collar around your neck, Little Lita. One I cannot so easily snap. A Forgery far finer than glass and plaster. A gilded cage built from all your heart’s desires.” He leaned close enough that she could count every eyelash framing his black, endless eye. “Do you remember?”

Lita felt a tremor move through her, an echo of confusion and horror as reality tore like wet paper. “Shadow on the ceiling,” the Stranger said, voice growing softer yet more sonorous, like he was speaking in a vast, vaulted cavern. Lita remembered the hanging jaw of the slick, tarry worm before it shot towards her. “Shadow covering your eyes.” He reached up, passing his fingertips over Lita’s eyes, closing them. She remembered the alien chill of that shadow moving over her skin, pouring into her mouth and commanding her to forget. “And a Shadow at your ear,” he whispered, tracing one finger along her palm, where the slender red scar sliced across her skin, “offering you a way out, if you were willing to pay the price. Do you remember?”

“Yes,” Lita breathed, eyes still closed, fire on her skin where he touched her, and icy horror everywhere else. “I remember everything.” And she did.

She opened her eyes to find he had leaned back slightly, grinning at her in a way that sent a shiver up her spine. “Who are you?”

“The Stranger sees nearly everyone as a tool,” he said, seeming to side-step the question. Then, he brought one hand up to his chest. “Even his own Shadow.”

Lita looked at him for a moment, baffled, before a hundred tiny pieces fell into place. His talk of choice, his bitter disdain for the Stranger, the seemingly pointless exercise of helping her and Laurelai escape the shadow creatures. Lita felt the room spin around her slowly, and she willed herself not to collapse onto the floor. This was not the Stranger - it was the Shade.

“I told you Truth was a heady thing,” the Shade said, voice dark with amusement. “But come now, tell me Little Lita. Have you drunk your fill of it? Are you satisfied?” He cupped her face with one hand, running the edge of his thumb lightly across her lower lip. “Or do you crave yet more?”

@Fatebreaker

[+ElephantEarwax he/him]

Not plot here, but I didn't know where to put it. From the depths of the archives comes an ancient document. Lost for the last few hundred years it just turned up behind a cabinet in the R&D lab. The original recipe. 

[Fatebreaker he/him]

Lita felt her pulse thundering like a runaway locomotive as she met the Shade's eyes. What did this mean? The Shade was helping her, betraying the Stranger's will? Could she even trust him?  Was this all an elaborate ploy of the Stranger? Did anything even make sense? She managed to form words, though they seemed insufficient to properly communicate her confusion,

"What are you doing here? What do you want?"

The Shade leaned in close, his hand still cupping her face, "I am here at your invitation, of course. And what I want, is you, Little Lita." For what felt like the hundredth time, her breath caught in her throat and her heart beat even faster. She felt herself leaning in to him, as if their bodies could merge in to one form of heat and shadow and glinting metal. Her mouth opened slightly, and she felt her eyes locked onto the void and spike before her. And just when their lips were about to touch, he spun them both in a flurry of movement, resuming the dance.

"I want you to break free of the collar put upon you by your oh-so-generous patron and help destroy the world in the process. For in doing so we shall save the lives of everyone on the planet, and more importantly set me free."

At the last word his voice took on a hunger deeper than anything Lita had ever known. It was like standing at the precipice of an oceanic trench and hearing a rumbling roar from within. She felt cold fear creep down her spine like the touch of a shadow creature. Whatever this creature may say about helping her, this was his true purpose. And she knew if it came to it he would devour the world, and her as well. And she both loved and hated him for it.

"How..." her voice came out as a hoarse whisper, her voice not wanting to finish the sentence. The Shade grinned, and the expression was both an invitation and a warning. Lita swallowed, then spoke again, "How am I supposed to do that?"  The Shade's grinned widened even further, "Oh I was hoping you'd ask that." He spun her suddenly, then brought her close again. His voice was lowered to a whisper, and he glanced around the room as if he was looking for someone. "In this Lita we must use subtlety, and not power, for there is no power that can match him as he now is. And so we must be both patient and quick, aimless and focused, so that we don't draw his gaze." His gaze seemed to sweep over her briefly, and his grin took on a different quality, "Though in this dress, it would be difficult not to draw the gaze of every soul in the city." He swept her into another dip, and his face lingered over her for a moment longer than expected. "Tell me, Lovely Little Lita Attar, which knife is the sharpest?"

Lita felt her mouth open, and then close as she thought about the question. After a moment she met his eyes and said with more confidence than she felt, "The one you don't expect." The Shade laughed delightedly and Lita felt a smile of her own begin to form. The sound was tinged in madness and hunger, but there was more to it. The Shade was indeed strange and alien, but there was something more human about him. Something knowable, something she couldn't fully explain, but she could almost grasp it. And if he had any humanity, he could be manipulated. Though of course it was not something to attempt lightly, not something of this magnitude. This was another knife's edge, but maybe, just maybe, she could be the one holding the handle this time. She just needed an opening.

The Shade collected himself and spoke again, "Indeed, the unexpected blade oft cuts deepest. And so, you, Laurelai, and I are perfectly poised to wield the blade that will undo him. The One-Eyed God has faced heroes and villains, monstrous hordes and mighty armies, what then could a tineye and a forger do? Nothing. The key then is not to focus on him, but on that which he has made. And so all you need to do is pull at threads, hunt for secrets, let your Hunger run wild." Lita felt herself thinking about things she was hungry for and the heat in her responded.  Stay on top of it, she told herself, use it. She leaned into him, and let the heat flow through her body, strong enough for him to feel it. 

"Any threads I should pull on in particular?" her hand toyed with the golden buttons on his waistcoat as she spoke. The Shade watched her fingers for a moment, then spoke, "Well, I know some that you might find of particular interest. You could talk to a young man who will come seeking your guidance, desperately seeking dark secrets he knows not of. He needs to be shown enough to reach his own conclusions, but not enough to draw the attention of our humble deity." Lita raised an eyebrow, "Passing me off to another man? Can it be you tire of my company already? Surely there's something I could do to hold your," Her fingers loosened his cravat, then traced down his chest, "interest?"

The Shade held still, seeming to contemplate her words, before answering her. "You are not mine to give, Lady of Flame, you are your own. And I am more envious of that than you know." His tone was sincere, almost sad, and the ever present grin was gone. He lifted a hand and traced the line of her cheek, beneath her left eye. This is a Secret worth knowing, Lita thought, and she held his gaze so as to remember every detail. Then the Shade seemed to remember himself and the grin returned "And I'm quite sure you've held my interest since the day we met, and it hasn't wavered since. After all, I don't get all cleaned up for the dreams of the uninteresting." Lita felt a wave of pride at those words, and resented how much she enjoyed hearing them. She spoke with feigned innocence, "So, this is my dream then? Does that mean I'm can make it do what I want?" The Shade grinned wider at her words, "Indeed. You could make the ballroom a forest, you could turn the guests into birds, you could even make Forian your servant." Lita smiled, then snapped her fingers. 

The Shade's collar and the first three buttons popped open. He seemed taken aback, opening his mouth but unable to form words. Lita snapped again and her dress became decidedly more interesting, with tighter curves and an open back. Her hair was braided with fine golden chain and at her throat she wore a golden coin. "I think," she said languidly, "That I've had enough of waltzing through my memory. I'd rather go somewhere a little more," And she snapped her fingers a third time and the ballroom faded away, and they were standing outside a blue door in a little alley. She grinned and turned towards the door, placing her hand upon the knob, "intimate."

The Shade stood there for a long moment, his expression held carefully neutral. Then at last he said, "Well, I wouldn't mind a cup of tea." And they both grinned and slipped inside without another word.

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

Lita woke slowly, feeling the dream slip away like the last grains of sand in an hourglass. The warmth of rich brown skin beneath her cheek shifted to linen, the rhythmic beating of a heart against her ear melted into the ticking of a clock. The clever fingers running through her hair disappeared, the contented, lazy grin fading into nothing. A black, endless eye, half-lidded in satisfied exhaustion, lingered just long enough to wink.

Wake up, Little Lita.

And Lita opened her eyes.

She gave a tiny groan and stretched languidly, feeling both sore and impossibly relaxed. The bed was in complete disarray, sheets kicked onto the floor in a heap, pillows shoved halfway into the headboard. Lita sat up and ran a hand through her hair, which snagged almost immediately on a snarl of knots.

She sighed, rolling her neck, and was pleased to find the knot of tension that had been plaguing her for weeks gone without a trace. Lita stood, and an echo of the dream shimmered across her memory, heat and shadow and a hunger like the void. Fingertips along her spine and her mouth on his neck and the white-lightning lance through her vision when —

A shudder ran through her, enough to nearly cause her to fall, and she gripped the bedside table with a whispered curse. 

Her fingers brushed the cool, smooth edge of the Coin, which sat in a blackened ring on the wood tabletop. It was lucky the whole thing hadn’t caught fire. Lita picked it up; one side bore the Sun, the other the World. Subtle, she thought, then remembered the first part of the dream. 

It had been, arguably, the more important part. The part full of dangerous secrets, of information she’d have killed to know just a day ago. She held the image of the Shade standing before her, running his finger along her cheek, face filled with a melancholy longing that ached even now. 

“You are your own. And I am more envious of that than you know.”

He wanted to help her - he wanted to help them all. But deeper than all of that, he wished to be free. Lita could still feel her own simmering rage at the Stranger, at how he’d moved her around like a piece on the board, stolen her life, built her a cage of dreams. But that was nothing compared to the Shade. She tried to imagine it, shackled to the whim of his creator, never completely free. Never able to slip the leash, no matter how much slack he was allowed. A nightmare - living forever as the shadow of another. 

Lita ran a hand along her ribs - nothing. Nothing but the faint pain of metal that should be there. She looked at the copper bands on her arms, all too aware that she must have tapped the memories in her sleep. And if she had them back, it was only a matter of time before the shadow creatures would come to fix the aberration. She would have to forget again. 

Damn this rusting game, Lita thought, slipping out of her shift and turning on the shower. At the last moment, she slid the bayonet off the bedside too. It felt ridiculous to shower with a bayonet, but she’d be damned if some black goop worm got the better of her while she was washing her hair.

Lita sat on the floor of the shower, letting cool water run over her skin, and thought. She needed to leave herself just enough information to help unravel the Stranger’s world, but not so much as to alert his attention. And this young man she was supposed to wait for… 

“Rust and ruin,” she breathed, giving a tiny mirthless laugh. It was Reshilore. Of course it was him. He looked almost exactly like them both now that she thought of it. A bit softer in the jaw and cheekbones…softer in all respects, really. Sweet and harmless as a child. And Lita was supposed to… what. Unravel him? The thought gave her a cruel little thrill.

Yes, she could do it. She would do it. She’d pull at all the loose threads she could find, unleash the hunger that the Shade found so compelling. And when he was free, perhaps he’d visit her again. Outside of a dream.

Lita leaned her head back against the cool tile and felt a wicked smile spread across her lips. She’d have to forget everything to fill her Coppermind. But first, she’d have to remember it.

……

There was something different about today. Lita had felt it as soon as she’d woken up, a sort of shimmering, liquid grace to the world. She’d felt it in her fingers as she plaited her long auburn hair over her shoulder - something she’d never done as far as she could recall. But today it felt right. She’d felt it as she selected her outfit, hand reaching instinctively for the deep purple dress she’d bought on a whim and never worn. Somehow it came as no surprise when it slid over her like a glove, back cut a bit too low and kick pleat cut a bit too high for a business dress. She grinned at her reflection, teeth white against lips red as claret, and stepped into her heels. Black today. Black and purple and the flash of gold as she slipped her coin into a hidden pocket. Mmm, yes. Definitely the right choice. Lita made herself a cup of tea, then stepped out of her little blue door and began to Alleytravel.

The door to her office seemed to spring open at her touch, and Lita glided in on a cloud, setting her tea down and not even minding the stack of paper mounted in her in-tray. Then she picked up a little silver pen, glanced at the clock on the wall, and sent her newest agent an Alleycant message.

“Good morning, Laurelai. Are you ready for your first interrogation?”

The pen spun across her fingers perfectly. Lita arched her back in a luxurious stretch and smiled. Such a beautiful day - and it was about to get even better. 

It was time to go hunting.

@Voidus

[Voidus]

It was sometimes strange how familiar the Alleys felt to Laurelai, how comfortable they were to walk through even knowing their dangers. In a sense, she supposed, she had been walking through them her whole life, the very periphery of them at least. The sections where the strange eldritch dimensions of the deeper alleys melded into mundanity until they touched upon the city proper.

I wonder how many people have wondered in by accident. She thought, tracing one hand along a brick wall. How many citizens of the city took a wrong turn one day taking that step over the border between the ordinary streets and the unknowable horrors and never came home?

At the very least she hoped that it was not so many that she bumped into one today, she wasn't even sure what the protocol would be if she found someone in the Alleys who didn't belong here. And given that she'd been sorely tempted to murder someone simply for blocking her path that morning, it was quite possible that she'd act first and question protocol second. Enraged murder would probably be less of a problem here than it was in her other job but it was still not a good impression to be setting.

And that simply wouldn't do. We need to make sure that we're accepted here. Finally we have what we've been looking for within arms reach, don't go and ruin it now Laurelai.

For a moment Laurelai felt a disquieting sensation that the voice she heard was not her own, or not entirely anyway. But she quashed the feeling and proceeded down the next Alley, doing her best to maintain regular breaths. She could feel her irritation still there, below the surface, but at least for now she should be able to remove all traces of it from her face and expression. After all, she'd made arrangements to stop by one of the other departments this morning and familiarize herself with them to better acclimate herself to her new role. Lita had mention what seemed like a dozen departments since Laurelai's recruitment, but as of yet R&D was the only one she'd been able to actually find.

"Good morning." She said with a smile as she wondered in through a doorway which she was very concerned to discover wide open given that it was made of a half-foot of solid steel. "I hope you're all doing well."

She was greeted with varying levels of enthusiasm by a number of individuals of even more varied appearance. From a 12 foot tall Koloss wearing glasses to what could perhaps best be described as some sort of higher-dimensional crystalline prism that seemed sharp enough to cut through that steel door like butter. It hummed in what she hoped was a friendly manner when she greeted it but made no moves of its own to greet her beyond that.

Several of the denizens however were more than happy to return her greeting, discuss their research and prototypes and make requests for her to act as a test subject for new research. All of those requests she declined as politely as she could manage, though when someone asked her for the fourth time in a row she could feel herself growing increasingly harsher in response. Others were happy to simply bask in her astonishment of projects which had already been tested, or to offer her an array of tools and spikes that dwarfed what any university she'd ever heard of had access to. If she'd taken all of them up on their offer she felt like she probably could have given the Ascendant Warrior a run for her money in a fight, but personally Laurelai hoped to do as little fighting as possible.

So she listened to descriptions and held weapons, and put on and tested so many unkeyed metalminds that she was tempted to keep the Zincmind just to prevent her brain from overheating. But after a heady rush of power, and a few introductions made that she hoped to leverage if she ever needed anything, Laurelai made her excuses to leave. After fending off a couple more requests to test something experimental the researchers all lost interest and returned to their own work with a singlemindedness that made her wonder if they would even notice if she stole something from under their noses. But she gathered she did not want to experience the consequences of that particular piece of idiocy, so she left the experimental chambers, moving to close the large steel door behind her.

A simple copper band still gleamed on her finger, she didn't remember putting it on but given the nature of copperminds that was quite possibly the point. It was certainly not one of her own, Laurelai hadn't worn copper since she'd had a bracelet when she was twelve that stained her wrist green. She felt her heart seize for a moment when she realized that she had indeed almost stolen something. But as she stepped quietly back into the room, nobody seemed alarmed or made note of anything as she gently placed it back into the tray of metalminds that waited to be sorted back into storage or distribution.

"Thank you again for your time." She said, finally closing the door behind her and feeling some of the stress leave her, even if that lingering feeling of irritation remained.

The pen twitching in her pocket nearly gave her a second heart attack before she translated the message from Lita.

“Good morning, Laurelai. Are you ready for your first interrogation?”

Well she seems in a good mood today. Laurelai noted mentally, trying not to grow jealous of the woman's fortune in contrast with her own morning of stress and irritation.

"Absolutely." She sent in reply, hoping that her annoyance did not show through the message. "I'll be at your office in two minutes."

Squaring her shoulders, she set off once more down the strangely familiar alleyways.

@ZincAboutIt

 

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

It shouldn’t have felt so good to spin the heavy gold coin between her fingers, but it did. Lita watched the light slide across its face like water, winking at her as she walked it across her knuckles, flipped it once, and caught it in her other hand. Her unoccupied fingers toyed with the end of her braid. The cup of tea sat at the corner of her desk, steam long-since cooled.

There was something she was forgetting, she was sure of it, a blank space in her mind. It left a slight shape with its absence, the outline of something sweet and wickedly scalding as molten sugar. Lita wanted to chase it like fire chewing through a line of blasting cord, and if it killed her at the end then Ruin but it was a death she wanted. 

Lita sighed and set the coin down on the table as she noticed her silver pen twitch slightly. She picked it up, smiling at Laurelai’s prompt response, and then looked over at her now-cold cup of tea.

That won’t do, she thought, standing and walking over to the little wet bar in the corner of the office. Laurelai would likely wish for a cup of tea as well, and that called for fresh leaves and more water. Lita took down the copper pot from a shelf and filled it with water and two scoops of tea before she set out two new tea cups on the desk. Then she walked over to the fireplace and reached her hand into the freshly-stoked embers.

Her fingers curled around metal, and Lita smiled before drawing out a glowing length of iron bar. She rapidly stored the heat in her brass ear cuffs, but even so she felt the whip sting of a burn whisper on her fingertips. With little ceremony, she plunged the glowing metal into the pot of water.

Iron met water with a scalding hiss, and steam instantly began to billow out of the top of the pot. Lita forced the lid on, and with nowhere to go it continued to pour through the spout, emitting a manic, high-pitched scream that seemed to fit perfectly with Lita’s mood.

The door opened, and Laurelai stood at the threshold, face pensive and slightly alarmed.

”Ah, Laurelai,” Lita said over the din, still holding the now-dimming poker in one hand. God Beyond but today it felt like she could melt the sun itself. “Good, you’re just in time for tea.”

@Voidus

[Voidus]

”Ah, Laurelai,” Lita said, greeting her at the door. "Good, you’re just in time for tea.”

Lita stood at the door, smiling with some hidden radiance. Dressed in a stylish purple dress and with a red-hot poker in one hand, she looked to be energetic and happy. She looked, at the least, to have had a rather splendid morning. She looked precisely the opposite of how Laurelai felt.

"Morning Lita." Laurelai said, forcing a smile herself. "Tea sounds lovely."

She didn't try too hard to conceal her tiredness or irritability, there was little chance of actually hiding it from Lita's keen senses. And on top of that there was some kind of unholy wail of the damned echoing inside the office that had given her a migraine the second the door had opened. Perhaps she had enough energy and skill to keep herself polite and professional, but she stood no chance at all of pretending to match the redhead's energy levels.

Turning to close the door behind her she used the chance as her body shielded her from Lita's direct view to wince in pain and close her eyes. She stayed at the door for a fraction too long to be natural, briefly fighting the impulse to simply lean against the cool wood and collapse rather than work for the day. But her sense of duty propelled her back, helped her to turn around and gratefully take a seat at Lita's gesture.

A copper pot in the center of the room revealed itself to be the source of the wailing as steam escaped from its spout. Laurelai found herself incredibly grateful for the Aonic kettle her father had given her which was both quick to use and much quieter. Laurelai stared at the pot with deep hatred until the noise slowly began to quiet, allowing her to actually hear again. She was glad once again that she had remembered to take that copper ring off back at R&D, if she hadn't she might very well have hurled it across the room now due simply to the shared metallic coloration with this infernal kettle.

"You're looking good today." She commented, wishing that there was some professional way for her to rub at her temples and ease her headache. "Slept well?"

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

19 hours ago, Voidus said:

“You're looking good today." She commented, wishing that there was some professional way for her to rub at her temples and ease her headache. "Slept well?"

Lita felt a little shiver run down her neck and smiled as she poured tea first for Laurelai, then for herself.

“Something like that, yes,” she said, turning around to fetch a small pot of sugar and a tiny pitcher of cream. She set these before Laurelai, feeling a small twinge of guilt at the woman’s obvious headache. Perhaps the kettle had been the wrong choice. “I take it you haven’t?”

Lita set the kettle on a little stand near the fireplace and returned the poker to the flames, then slid into her chair.

”Please do begin.” She nodded at Laurelai to begin drinking, then opened a drawer in her desk to remove a file. 

“I’ve received nearly the entire picture of our well-dressed gentleman,” Lita went on, stopping to pour a splash of cream into her tea. It swirled in the cup, mixing lazily, until Lita gave it a whirl with a spoon. “There’s one final piece to set in place, and I thought you might wish to accompany me. Tell me,” she sipped the tea, still piping hot, “have you visited the Department of Records yet?”

[Voidus]

"I take it you haven't?" Lita replied to Laurelai's question. Her energy had dimmed slightly but it still felt insufferable for someone to be that bright this morning.

Laurelai gave a small shake of her head but didn't elaborate further, she wasn't truly sure what had caused her to have slept so poorly. Perhaps just some unseasonable warmth that she wasn't accustomed to, perhaps some forgotten nightmare. Whatever it was felt like it was going to drag her down all day if she let it, so rather than feel annoyed at Lita for her better fortune, Laurelai attempted to simply accept some of the light and warmth the other woman radiated and hope it lifted her day to something a little better.

"Thanks." She said, smile a little more genuine this time as she accepted the tea. Sugar felt like a bit much but she did add a splash of cream to cup before taking a cautious sip.

Blessedly the liquid did not scald her mouth, and almost instantly she felt some of the edge taken off of her headache. It wasn't a miraculous healing and did very little for the tension she couldn't seem to shake the feeling of, but it did help. It let her mind sharpen enough to actually catch Lita's next words as she explained their next steps before asking Laurelai about the department of records.

"Heard of it." She replied truthfully. "But I haven't yet had a chance to drop by, though I'd hoped to once the immediate problem was solved. It does seem a useful place for one to try to orient herself here."

She had considered visiting the department, they were responsible for much of the information that she'd gleaned so far to help her understand the Alleys and what happened there. But when the options were a library of records or the actual research department that created the things described in those records it was easy to guess which way curiosity would lead. She doubted any of the departments in the Alleys could truly be considered 'boring' by her normal standards, but going to something as mundane as a records room when visiting a magical secret society had seemed... wasteful.

"Has something interesting happened there?" She asked with a wry smile. "Or are we on another fact-finding mission?"

But from what she'd read about the Department of Records they only recorded events and experiments that had to do with the Alleys themselves. Information about the wider city was much more in keeping with Lita's department. What information on the well-dressed man could Records have that Lita didn't?

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

“Has something interesting happened there?" She asked with a wry smile. "Or are we on another fact-finding mission?"

Lita raised an eyebrow at that. “I didn’t realize you were so eager for ‘interesting’ work. I do apologize if spycraft isn’t shaping up to be everything the cinema promised.” She took another sip of tea, then gave Laurelai a sharp smile. “But don’t worry, R&D are always looking for assistants. I’m sure I could put in a good word if you’d like a transfer.”

She winked, then flipped open the file. 
“It appears,” Lita ran her finger down the dossier before stopping at a picture of a shapely dressed man in his middle years, “that we are looking for one Ronald Darsen. Forger - mundane of course - embezzler, con artist, tax evader, and purchaser of radically expensive suits. As one would be, with all that dirty money. One has to look clean, after all, and doesn’t he just.” Lita tapped her tongue against the back of her teeth once, then took another sip of tea. “But perhaps the most interesting thing about dear Mister Darsen is that he works for us, that is to say, the DA.”

Lita stopped to allow that to sink in, then continued. “Occasionally one department will find itself at cross purposes to another, almost always by accident. I initially thought this the case. So imagine my surprise when I could find no record whatsoever of his Department - or any Department - that authorized his foray into Einladung Hospital.”

She paused again, this time to unlock a tiny drawer in the desk and pull out a single sheet of paper. “Mail just seems to appear around here - so convenient. So quick. You never see the messengers, or if you do, you forget almost immediately. Most people don’t even think they can talk. But I assure you, a Stranger will talk if you apply the right leverage - that leverage being a Senior R&D member with pliers wrapped around your linchpin spike.”

Her smile sharpened. “It is convenient to have friends in high places. Even here, it largely comes down to who you know. Which brings me to our ‘interesting’ fact. The Stranger who delivered a missive to Ronald Darsen cannot actually remember where he got it, or why. He could only tell us that he was sent by Department Head Allie of DASU. A Department which I have never heard of, and neither has the oldest person I could find - who happens to be a tidy 2,500 years old. So, either someone is playing silly buggers with all of us, including a nigh-invisible hemalurgic servant - or something else is happening. And the only place that has older records than I do is the Records Department. So if this ‘Allie’ exists, that will be the place to find them. And if they do not, then I believe Ronald Darsen will have a rather interesting afternoon.” Lita grinned mirthlessly.

“And I do mean interesting.” 

 @Voidus

[Voidus]

“But don’t worry, R&D are always looking for assistants. I’m sure I could put in a good word if you’d like a transfer.” Lita said with a sharp smile.

A jolt of anxiety hit her stomach as Laurelai met Lita's gaze. Her spine straightened as she felt herself instinctively make use of her full height and came very close to fixing her new boss with an icy stare of retaliation at the barb. Surely Lita knew that Laurelai hadn't actually meant...

Lita winked before continuing on.

God damnit Lita. Laurelai growled internally as she forced her posture to soften slightly. I am far too exhausted to deal with that Rusting wicked sense of humour right now.

“But perhaps the most interesting thing about dear Mister Darsen" Lita continued as Laurelai firmly pushed her attention back to the conversation. "is that he works for us, that is to say, the DA.”

Laurelai stiffened at that, she pulled her cup away from parched, waiting lips and placed it back on the table to stare more fully at Lita as she absorbed the impact of that sentence. Someone else in the DA was also investigating the hospital? But rather than approach the mistress of spies and information they'd either got the accountant to do it for them or else Mister Darsen himself was the one initiating the investigation.

Lita quickly dismissed the idea of this being a formal investigation by one of the other departments before pulling out a sheet of paper and idly mentioning how she had acquired it. Laurelai was quite sure that the story was designed to intimidate her a little and test her response to such blatant discussion of violence. She was equally sure that it was quite effective as her face grew even paler than usual for a moment and she took another sip of tea to warm herself.

"So we're preparing for fact finding and an interesting afternoon potentially?" Laurelai said, her eagerness at finding more answers quickly stamping out her momentary distaste at how some of them had been acquired. "Why Lita you do know how to spoil a girl."

Her grin echoed Lita's own and the icy chill that her eyes had held since leaving her house that morning was taken over by a smouldering hunger for more hidden secrets. The intensity of the emotion almost startled Laurelai herself, who had always been curious, but this felt somehow different. Perhaps her fateful encounter with the DA had only stoked her hunger even as they fed a part of it, but whatever the reason she was more than happy to take the opportunity to satiate the rising need.

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

"Why Lita you do know how to spoil a girl." Laurelai matched Lita’s smile, and Lita saw in her eyes a flicker of something familiar. A hungry gleam, the keen gaze of a hunter sensing its prey. She reveled in the shared sensation; it was like sharpening one’s teeth in a mirror. 

“A practiced spy needs plenty of skills.” Lita felt the whisper of something as she said it, like breath on the back of her neck, like teeth toying at her ear. She drained the last of her tea, the heat lingering in her mouth. It felt as though something hovered in the air, sharp as broken glass and heady as wine. It waited, an unseen tendril of smoke and shadow curling around the two of them, feeding their hunger, drawing upon it. 

Lita stood, sliding the gold coin off the table and letting it dance between her fingers. “Come,” she said to Laurelai, “let us be about our work. Work before play. We must be well prepared for Mister Darsen. After all, preparation is everything. We just need to find the right thread to pull.”

The coin almost seemed to pulse in her hand, phantom heat simmering through the narrow red scar on her palm. Lita bared her teeth against the slight pain; even still, her lips curled upwards. “I do so enjoy watching a handsome man unravel, don’t you?”

@Voidus

[Voidus]

Was it Laurelai's imagination? Or had the room actually increased in temperature a little as the two women exchanged predatory grins? Either way Mister Darsen was certainly in for an interesting afternoon. Hopefully he appreciated how fortunate he was to have the attention of two such lovely ladies and provided them with the information that they needed. But if not..

As she stood, Laurelai's expression sharpened again, molten hunger cooled and was forged into a blade of desperate need. If they couldn't find what they needed by asking Mister Darsen kindly then she would need to see if pain could unpick what pleasantries could not. Despite only moments ago feeling briefly queasy at the mention of torture, Laurelai was also quite certain that if that was what she needed to do to pull the secrets from this man she was more than willing. She would pull everything he knew from him, leaving broken shell of a body behind as she left to find someone who knew more. More and more and more until she consumed all the secrets there were to know, until she was once again flooded by that omnipotent feeling of-

"And here we are." Lita said, interrupting Laurelai's somewhat sadistic and horrifying thought process.

With a start Laurelai realized that they had already arrived at the Department of Records, though she could barely even remember leaving Lita's office, let alone travelling through the Alleys between there and here. She'd been distracted by thoughts of something. What was it? Some idea or memory that slipped from her grasp faster the more she tried to grab at it.

When Lita opened the door even that faint trace of a memory faded from her as Laurelai looked into the room beyond. Dozens upon dozens of identical desks filled the central space, most waited empty with a single sheet of paper on their surface and a golden pen perfectly positioned to the paper's side. Other desks seated denizens, not so strange to look at as the denizens of R&D but perhaps even more single-mindedly focussed on their task as the room filled with the quiet sounds of paper being turned and the scratching of pen against page.

But while that central space was what immediately drew the eye it was dwarfed by what surrounded it. Enormous shelves that stretched from the floor to an impossibly high ceiling, ranging from simple wall cubbies where rolled sheets of parchment could be kept to steel drawers with manila files to some kind of rack that seemed designed to hold stone tablets of all things. The sheer number of documents in this space must exceed that of every library Laurelai had ever seen or heard of prior to this moment.

I have been lost in the desert, dying of thirst. Laurelai realised. And here is my salvation. My Oasis.

How foolish she had been to think that the toys that the R&D department held had built were the temptation of the Alleys, the power that she could gain. Compared to what was stored in these halls even the most powerful of spikes seemed like little more than a consolation prize. This was the true treasure. This was surely what had called to her and led her to Lita the night of the festival.

"Where do we start?" She asked, her voice cracking slightly as she stared into the room with a desperate, unquenchable thirst.

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

"Where do we start?"

Lita looked over her shoulder at Laurelai, who stood gaping at the endless shelves with awed avarice. She had the stunned, starving look of a street dog that had suddenly found itself in a butcher shop. Lita knew she had better throw her a bone  soon, or she’d bolt for the nearest shelf and start gnawing on the scrolls.

”This way,” Lita said with a small smirk. Interesting enough indeed. If someone looked at Lita the way Laurelai was looking at the nearest filing cabinet, she’d already have her dress halfway off.

She led them past the forest of desks and their scribbling occupants towards a slightly broader, more elevated desk. A slender Singer man in Scholarform looked up as she tapped two fingers on the desktop. He wore a pair of silvery spectacles and had his hair strands braided into a complex tail that fell down the back of his grey robes. Azim had always dressed as an Ardent, which Lita found odd - though she was not sure why. He also had enough spikes in his chest to open a hardware store. Surely that was odder.

“Ms. Attar,” he said softly, his voice slightly rhythmic. Lita had not learned much about the Singer Rhythms, but she was fairly certain this was one of the formal ones. Respect, perhaps? “How may I help you?”

”Azim,” Lita responded, inclining her head slightly. Azim was not technically the Head of the Department of Records, but he was absolutely it’s ruler in all but official title. She hadn’t expected him to be working today, but she appreciated the stroke of luck. Azim had a memory like a Coppermind, which she guessed was technically true, as he was a copper compounder. He basically was the library catalog.

”This,” Lita gestured to her side, “is Laurelai Esserethel, my newest acolyte. Laurelai, this is Azim, Herald of Records.”

Lita winked at Azim, who sighed slightly. “How you don’t cut yourself with that tongue of yours I’ll never know.” His voice had changed slightly, and Lita was sure he was secretly pleased. “Well met, Laurelai Esserethel.” He nodded to Laurelai. “Now, what is this flattery for, Ms. Attar? You only ever compliment me when you need a favor.”

Lita placed a hand on her heart in mock offense, then slipped a single sheet of paper from a pocket and slid it to Azim. “I need to know if there’s anything in the Department on this person. Go back as far as you can. All the way, if possible.”

Azim gave her a long look, then he read the paper. “All… the way. All the way?”

Lita leaned on the desk. “Yes. All the way back.”

@Voidus

[Voidus]

Laurelai was lost staring at the shelves, her interest flittered from one to the other in an endless, glorious loop. There was no signage to help her identify what shelf held what information but that knowledge barely fazed her. Laurelai had picked up many skills and trades to varying levels of proficiency over her life, she was quite used to casting a wide net when it came to research and learning. Perhaps she should simply pick a shelf and see what it held? 

“Well met, Laurelai Esserethel.” A voice nearby said, eventually drawing her attention back at the sound of her name.

She stared at the slender finger, taking a little longer than usual to recognize a Singer in Scholarform, perhaps due to the ardent robes, though likely it had more to do with the endless wells of knowledge that kept threatening to steal her focus once more. Giving her head a slight shake she tried to smile and nod politely at the Ardent before Lita's words finally caught up to her mind and her eyes snapped back to her redheaded mentor.

"Herald of Records?" She said, voice lowering habitually in a library. "Is that the same as a department head? Or a Rosharan title?"

Mentally she flicked through every book she'd read on Rosharan history but unfortunately that of the Singers was still frustratingly under recorded. While some of their oral traditions had been transcribed it was far too few for her liking. It had also not been a particular area of focus of hers beyond the tiny handful of times she'd needed to help a Singer patient at the hospital.

"And what does 'All the way' mean?" She pressed, the rising tide of her curiosity pushing past her natural inclination for polite, measured speech. "How far back do these records go?"

Actually that one she could likely guess at herself, legends said that the Alleys predated the city, which had always seemed to be a bit of a contradiction to her. How did one have alleys without a city? But having walked through them now she could believe it. And this room certainly seemed older than anything else she'd seen. But then how much older? What did older even mean in this context? The Alleyverse was separated from most other worlds' time streams, a day here could mean a hundred years on Scadrial and simultaneously only a minute on Earth. So many questions and so few answers, and those answers came far too slowly to satisfy her itch.

Absently she noticed Azim leave, presumably to begin collating the documents that Lita had requested. But she could not simply sit idly about while those were gathered. Surely there had to be something else here, one of these documents must be able to answer her questions.

"Is there an index here?" She said, voice steadily accelerating. "Somewhere to note what's collected where? Or a categorization system at the least. Chronological? Topical would be preferred, easier to find related subjects that way. But then I suppose if citations are listed correctly with some kind of reference number then that would simplify things and assuming this includes historical records as well as experimental then chronological organisation would make sense as well, perhaps some kind of hybrid model or duplication of records across both, or  collations of similar records into volumes."

She felt herself growing dizzy at the thoughts as her mind spiderwebbed into different possibilities, chasing down each string as she came across it into an endless web that she couldn't quite make sense of. But if she just concentrated harder she would understand. No, that wasn't it. Her attention was here, she was focussed correctly even as she felt another migraine begin to build. The problem was the resources she had available, as things stood now this hall of records couldn't serve her needs. She needed something faster, more immediately able to answer her questions as they arrived.

Still stationary at the desk her eyes hunted around the room, looking for something before finally arriving at Lita again. She was the head of a department wasn't she? The leader of all the spies in the Alleys. Surely she must have accumulated a wealth of information from her position. Perhaps not as much as the department of records in quantity but infinitely more easily searchable. She'd answered so many of Laurelai's questions already and helped her find her own answers to several more. And after all, she had been drawn to Lita that night, not to this library. That meant her initial decision, to become an acolyte under the spymistress of the Dark Alleys must have been the correct one and Lita would surely be able to-

Breathe. She heard her own voice say, dimly in the back of her mind. She'd realised that she was getting tunnel vision as she stared into Lita's eyes, hoping to mentally wrest the secrets from them. But perhaps that tunnel vision had less to do with her focus and more to do with impending asphyxiation.

"Sorry." Laurelai said as she drew in fresh air to clear her mind. "I suppose that was my inner scholar coming out a bit."

Laurelai was usually very practised at arranging her expression, whether a deliberately patronising smile to an irritating peer or a polite refusal to somebody in a dance hall. But why was it that as the day went on she was finding it harder and harder to force her face back to some semblance of polite calm? She prayed to whatever gods dwelt in the Alleys that Lita didn't take her stiff smile personally. If she decided that she'd had enough of Laurelai and deposited her back into the city, with no way to answer these questions anymore, then Laurelai was not entirely sure of what she might do in order to seek the answers out for herself. The simplest solution was simply to make sure to do whatever was needed to keep her new employer happy.

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

Lita watched Azim turn to go, his face pinched slightly. She knew enough to realize her request had him both curious and worried - no one ever requested to go all the way back. 

And what if he finds nothing at all?

The premise had Lita itching to chew on one of her lacquered fingernails, but she stopped herself. If he found nothing, then it meant that she and Laurelai would get their answers from Ronald Darsen. And if he did find something… well, the idea of a secret Department was both fascinating and disturbing. Lita would be a fool to think she’d discovered every secret the Dark Alley had to offer, after all, that’s what had led her here in the first place.

Laurelai had begun speaking, asking about an index of some sort. Lita was about to answer but the blonde kept going, her eyes taking on a faraway cast but somehow sharpening at the same time. There was an echo of something there, at the core of her gaze, something that Lita felt she ought to understand. The blue of her eyes almost seemed to shimmer, like light on water.

”Sorry,” Laurelai said, breaking the trance-like state with a breath. “I suppose that was my inner scholar coming out a bit.”

Lita blinked, tearing her own eyes away from Laurelai’s. She smiled reassuringly at the woman, who was doing her best to rearrange her features back into their typical cool serenity.

Something happened there, Lita thought, cocking her head to the side. There was a sort of perverse pleasure in seeing Laurelai so off her guard. Lita felt that golden thrum in the air again, the liquid shimmer that had run through her body ever since she had woken up. For one moment Lita entertained the thought of taking Laurelai’s chin between her fingers, cracking that porcelain veneer like an eggshell and pulling the fevered desperation out of her inch by inch. 

The things I could offer you, Lita’s mind whispered in a voice not entirely her own. Knowledge, power, that drop in your gut as you plunge over the edge into utter free fall. And damn the cost. Dash yourself against the rocks of your own ravenous need. Your blood and your sanity will drip down into the hungry sea like fine wine.  And I will gladly drink whatever’s left of you, even as you sear my tongue with your fire, my Little Lita.

Snap!

Lita looked down, the odd voice forgotten, at the two halves of the golden pen in her hands. Rusts.

“No need to apologize,” Lita said smoothly, setting the two halves of pen aside. “At least half of spycraft is scholarship. Information is as good as gold, in my opinion. Better, even. Gold weighs down the pockets, which ruins the line of a dress.” Lita winked.

@Voidus

[Voidus]

“No need to apologize,” Lita said smoothly and prompting a surge of relief and gratitude from Laurelai. "At least half of spycraft is scholarship. Information is as good as gold, in my opinion. Better, even. Gold weighs down the pockets, which ruins the line of a dress.”

Laurelai returned Lita's smile a little more genuinely, though as she did so she felt the smallest of blushes creeping up to colour her cheeks with faint warmth. It was nothing but idle banter she knew. From their very first meeting at the winehouse Laurelai knew that Lita enjoyed the game of conversation and played it well, lacing her words with hidden barbs, secrets and traps. But had she always been this... flirtatious?

With a mental shrug Laurelai dismissed the thought, perhaps it was simply owing to whatever had brought her into such a good mood tonight. It was hardly the most extreme personality shift that Laurelai had seen, given her work in the cognitive ward. Thankfully the warmth in her cheeks also helped distract Laurelai long enough that she regained control of her mental faculties and her mouth, letting neither run away quite so far as they just had. But that was certain to be a temporary measure, a little sensory distraction might be a welcome reprieve but it was no cure for her mood.

Perhaps some other calming techniques? She thought to herself, mental voice much less snide this time. It's not like we're short on those, every culture in the cosmere and beyond seems to have their own version.

As Laurelai settled into a regular breathing pattern she recalled a technique from a magical world outside of the cosmere. They separated their techniques by gender on that world for some reason that always seemed incredibly silly to her, but perhaps simply being the traditionalist that she was she opted for the women's visualization.

A gentle river that carries you along downstream. To fight against the inexorable tide is utter foolishness, but if you allow it to carry you then you can direct the flow. She recalled. Almost immediately she felt her lingering tension begin to subside by another degree. The thought of drifting along, allowing herself to simply be carried and gently direct herself to wherever she needed to go. To allow the gentle droplets of rain to carry her mind down to what she sought and-

Rain? Her mind interrupted again, breaking the reverie with a snap. It left her feeling somehow better and worse at the same time. More relaxed perhaps, but also... hungrier. She felt her eyes scan the shelves again before she dragged them back to Lita.

"Well." She said, a smile still on her lips though the actual mirth had long faded now. "We can't have that. If I wasted their efforts by filling my dresses with pockets of gold I'd have half the tailors in the city out for my head."

Conversation was a little easier again, now that she was at least not so tense that she was snapping at everyone. And Laurelai could very easily fall into the comfortable patterns of back and forth banter, even if it was a little subpar from her usual standards. But banter wasn't what she needed now, the clever wordplay and verbal fencing might give her some amusement but they wouldn't scratch the itch she felt. They wouldn't satisfy this hunger.

"Lita." Laurelai said cautiously. "We've spoken of these... flashes. The ones that some people have been having. Memories that aren't real, deja vu..."

Laurelai hated the need that began to creep into her tone, but her desperation for answers was only growing stronger. She simply didn't have the time for this careful game of secrets and half-answers that they'd been playing. Something had drawn her to Lita that first night, and Lita to her in return. If Laurelai was feeling these flashes of... something then surely Lita was too, and that meant that she had information still to give. And if Laurelai needed to toss subtlety and propriety to the wind to get that information then that is precisely what she would do.

"What do you see in them?" She asked finally. "What can you remember?"

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

Lita continued to watch Laurelai struggle with her expression, her eyes growing a bit distant, then closing altogether as she breathed rhythmically. She didn’t miss the light flush of color high on the blonde’s cheeks, a heat that whispered its own echo down Lita’s neck, tracing a molten line over the ladder of her rib cage and ending in a low, throbbing ache. Lita felt her fingers move to the little pocket of her dress, drawing out the golden coin and running her thumb across its surface. She wanted to melt it in her palm and drink it like wine. She wanted to forge it into a spike and bury it deep inside her heart.

“Lita." Laurelai said, her voice cautious, careful. "We've spoken of these... flashes. The ones that some people have been having. Memories that aren't real, deja vu..." She stopped, face pensive, and Lita was about to speak when Laurelai continued. “What do you see in them? What can you remember?"

Lita felt, more than heard, the world crack ever so slightly around her, and for a moment the bottom dropped out of her gut and everything was darkness and free fall. Then she was back in her body, green eyes flicking upwards like twin serpents, keen and coiled, tasting the air. She met Laurelai’s stare, and she was gazing into a sheet of ice, flawless aside from a single fissure that sliced through both of those frozen eyes. Such a slender crack, but it ran right to the core of her soul. Lita could feel how much she wanted to know, needed to know, the way a moss addict needed the burn on his fingers, the way a starving beggar needed something to eat. The pitiless master of raw need had Laurelai so deeply in its grasp that Lita knew she’d dance naked on broken glass for the answers, if Lita so chose.

”You speak out of turn, Laurelai Esserethel,” Lita said softly, and her voice was the snick of a switchblade against the quiet of the Department of Records. “Your tongue has run away with your head. Your desire for knowledge has leashed you and ridden you into the dirt.”

She leaned forward, fingers still spinning the coin. No, not the coin. The Coin. Her Coin. She could feel something against her fingertips, a raised image, a stamp on each face. Somehow she knew them without looking - a set of scales, perfectly balanced, and a skull with a spike driven through the left eye socket. Anything was attainable, but there was always a price.

“I know that feeling,” Lita whispered. “Food has no taste. Water does nothing to slake your thirst. You can’t sleep, and when you do your dreams turn into nightmares, and then your nightmares torture you so exquisitely that they turn back into dreams, and you awake drenched in your bed, trembling and sick, and there’s nothing you want more than to cut your throat on the knife of your Hunger.”

She was much too close now, and she felt the burn of Tin in her stomach turning up the volume on the world. Too much sight, too much sound, too much sensation on her skin. “You want to know what I remember?” Lita put one finger under Laurelai’s chin, lifting it so that the edge of one crimson nail bit slightly into her porcelain skin. “I remember a Storm. I remember rain like ice cutting into my skin, and wind biting into my gums as I smiled so hard it felt like I would rip my own flesh. I remember a Tin flare so high that I could feel the floor of the alley through the soles of my boots, and I remember lightning behind the figure of a god that people only speak about in stories. But he was real. And he gave me a choice. Power, or Subtlety?”

”Do you know what it is to feel yourself come apart, Laurelai?” Lita could feel herself trembling with the weight of the memory. “That moment when steel hits your blood, and agony arcs through your body like white fire, lighting every nerve until your mind is undone, and the threshold between pain and ecstasy is blurred and blended through your own tears?”

Lita bit her lip hard enough to taste blood; it felt right. It felt like someone else’s teeth on her skin. It felt like a ravenous fever, like black curls against a light blue door. It felt like her own fingernails cutting scratches into the little table where she’d once met a clever shadow. It felt like her name on the tongue of a hungry god.

”Because that is what I remember. It is what is painted on the back of my eyes with every blink. It is in every quiet moment, in every uneasy silence. It haunts me like a revenant. And do not think that you will leave this room until you have paid for that secret to my satisfaction.”

@Voidus

[Voidus]

Even before Lita called her by her full name, Laurelai realized the mistake she had made. The price that she may have to pay due to her irritation-fueled lapse in good judgement. She had to remind herself that however familiar Lita's company might feel sometimes that the two were barely more than acquaintances, and that if she pushed the boundaries of that relationship too far then she could not blame anyone but herself for the fall that was to come.

“I know that feeling,” Lita whispered.

Laurelai's eyes, already fixed on Lita's, contracted in sudden focus. There was an irritated voice in her mind that wanted to snap that Lita couldn't possibly know that feeling, that the woman was far to satisfied and content today to know any burning need for something she couldn't have. But there was another part of her, the hungry part, that silenced the first voice and drunk in Lita's words like a plant in parched desert sands drunk in the first droplets of rain.

The irritated voice piped up again as Lita placed a finger under her chin, nail digging just barely into soft skin. But the voice was silenced once again, this time by the thundering of Laurelai's heartbeat in her ears. She was sure that the slight blush she had felt before was nothing compared to what would be visible now. But did she even care?

Laurelai's lips felt suddenly parched but she dared not even move for that lest she interrupt Lita. If she did something to cause this small trickle of information to stop, it might very well drive her mad with frustration. Already her mind felt ready to tear itself in two as she struggled to keep her attention on the words still pouring from Lita's painted lips. Her attention slipped to thoughts of what more she could learn, of what secrets the redhead still held, of what secrets she had hidden in the words already spoken. Too much to think about and time moved too quickly for her to focus on all at once.

She saw the momentary lapse as Lita lost herself in whatever recollections she had, saw a dot of crimson slowly begin to bead on her lips as she pulled Laurelai's attention back, eyes demanding a compensation to be paid for this cornucopia of secrets. It took Laurelai longer than it should to pull herself free from that gaze once again. Immediately she felt her mind turn towards the small parcels of truth that Lita had given her, hungrily they devoured every word and pulled it apart for meaning, context, inflection. She felt that familiar wave of frustration again at her inability to process it faster. After all if Lita began to talk again and Laurelai was still processing her first words then she would never be able to catch up, never be able to know.

"Yes of course." She replied, just barely holding at bay the tremor that wanted to creep into her voice. "I... apologize for being so blunt."

Her sight travelled the lines and curves of Lita's face, searching to pull any fragment of additional understanding she could. The bead of crimson on her lips drew Laurelai's attention again and she absently reached for a handkerchief to offer. Almost she was quick enough to catch it but the droplet fell from Lita's lips and seemed to drift in slow motion towards Laurelai's outstretched hand. As it painted a crimson splash across snow-white skin, the droplet send a jolt of shock through her system and she found herself transfixed by the sight. The signals seemed to take an age to reach her mind, but when they did her first impression was one of overwhelming heat. She wasn't sure why it was that she'd expected it to feel cool, but Lita's blood felt like liquid fire compared to what she had anticipated. Even more striking than the heat however was what came in its wake, the sudden yawning emptiness. Not quite a lack of sensation but something was... missing. Something was supposed to happen but hadn't.

That should have helped us. The voice whispered again, irritation rising to rage. That was supposed to feed it, to sate us.

She wanted to shake the voice free from her head but she was still balanced delicately on Lita's fingertip and couldn't move.

She has more answers Laurelai. The voice continued, insistent with need. She has what we need if you just take it. Beg her, threaten her, steal them, whatever you need to do.

Her tongue darted across her lips to restore moisture to them, lips that began to move to form words. What words precisely, Laurelai was not entirely sure. But neither would she ever know as a soft thud of paper against wood interrupted her thoughts. Azim, the Herald of Records, had returned with a small stack of files which had been laid back onto the desk. Laurelai was partially grateful to the Singer for wakening her from her reverie before she could speak. But as she saw Lita's green eyes drift away from her and towards the files, Laurelai was also briefly inclined to force those files down Azim's throat for interrupting.

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

“Your files, Ms. Attar.”

Azim’s cool, dry voice was blank as new parchment as he set the stack of files on the table. Lita felt some of the heat dissipate from the air, the tension momentarily slackened. She let her eyes slide away from Laurelai’s, resting instead on the stack of files.

”Thank you, Azim,” Lita said, her voice soft, steady - so at odds with the raw heat surging through her blood. “As always, your timing is impeccable.”

”Indeed,” the Singer responded, tone still utterly unreadable. “Will you be taking these records back with you, then?”

Lita felt her lips curve upward ever so slightly, raising a single auburn brow. She looked back at Laurelai, still balanced on the edge of her fingernail. The blonde’s blue eyes were flicking between the stack of papers and Lita’s face with ravenous indecision. The color high on her cheeks had deepened and crept down her neck; Tin allowed Lita to see her pulse where it fluttered in her throat like a caged bird.

The liquid thrum from earlier stirred again, coiling in her core. ”Why, yes we shall.”

Lita released the pressure of her nail from Laurelai’s chin, allowing her finger to trace down the young woman’s neck. 

“Laurelai,” Lita continued, heat lacing her words like poison, “do be a dear and gather those records, will you? It wouldn’t do to get my blood all over them. So terribly inconsiderate.”

”Terribly,” Azim echoed drily before turning and walking back to his desk in the center of the main room.

Lita stood and dragged the back of her left hand across her lip, leaving a smear of blood on the skin. It stung lightly, and Lita grinned into the pain. There was a single droplet of Lita’s blood on Laurelai’s palm, the crimson stark against her pale skin. Lita clicked her tongue and took the handkerchief from the tabletop, pressing it into Laurelai’s hand. Then she wrapped her fingers around Laurelai’s wrist and tugged her forward, up out of the chair.

Laurelai was taller, but Lita felt nothing but power as she looked up into her eyes. Laurelai was helpless with desperation, drowning in it. Lita felt the electric thrill of the realization that she could demand anything at all in return for more information. Secrets of her own, certainly. Knowledge was power, and there were ever so many ways to know a person, weren’t there?

“Come, Laurelai,” she said, tightening her grip on Laurelai’s wrist to just below the point of pain. “Let us go and settle your debt.”

She ran her tongue along the cut in her lip, which had started to bleed again with the force of her smile. Beneath the heat of her fingers, Lita could feel the icy veneer of Laurelai Esserethel begin to melt and crack.

@Voidus