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

[AonEne he/him]

On 3/26/2022 at 0:06 AM, ZincAboutIt said:

Lita connected them to three more completely unrelated Alleys before linking them up somewhere in the R&D department. 

"So, Department Head. Quite the promotion," Laurelai said, speaking for the first time since they started their flight, her voice somewhat strained from their run. "Seems to have been less painful than your last one."

"You haven't seen my in-tray," Lita said, smiling despite the pounding of her heart. She flared her Tin, looking behind them for any signs of shadows behaving oddly. "One more jump." Lita gripped Laurelai's hand tighter and wove a new path, taking them clear across the city into the very outer Alleys, where the sky was no longer a boiling Void but blue and clear and real.

At the sound of voices, Deteca glanced up. The door connecting this lab to the alleyway outside was half-open to let in fresh air - as fresh as air could be in these particular Alleys, which she usually found to be either not very or too much in a way that felt unreal - and from just beyond it she caught a glimpse of a couple forms. They looked humanoid, which wasn't a guarantee in here, and sounded feminine. 

They also sounded almost rushed, as though running from something. And...was that the Head of - 

Storms, her experiment was melting. She'd been working on this one for the last, well, she didn't always bother keeping track of time when in the Alleys and working on something, which was most of the time these days. For a while, anyway, and damn if she was going to start this particular portion over again when it was days away from completion. 

Deteca went back to her work. 

* 

Some time later - a day? two? ...a week (surely not a week)? she was on to the next project: devising Alleycant pens that could be charged by an Elantrian and then later used by someone else to draw Aons. She was sure it was a good idea; there had to be potential in ettmetal's ability to replicate Investiture beyond what Southern Scadrial had figured out. But trying to figure it out herself was admittedly taking a lot of time. 

Deteca was alright with that, though. It might take a while, but she had nowhere else to be in the world. 

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Don't talk to me about how long it took me to write this or its quality  just wanted to get in one canon post establishing Deteca's state in the Forgery. 

something something caustic molasses 

 

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

Lita crossed the floor of the cavern before she had time to consciously think, pushing away the disorientation and the ache of recalled abandonment in favor of a brighter, more fervent emotion: fear. The sight of Laurelai collapsed on the floor brought Lita's heart into her throat, tin swelling its frantic beating into thunder as she watched her friend lay there whimpering into the damp stone. She knelt down beside Laurelai, hands shaking slightly as she placed one on the blonde's shoulder, as if to check that she were still real. The touch caused Laurelai to flinch, though whether it was to Lita specifically or simply the general overwhelm was unclear.

Whisper's words made little sense to Lita; she had never been any sort of scholar. An identity that cannot coalesce? Two competing Forgeries? It sounded to Lita as though Laurelai had somehow Forged herself on top of what the Stranger had done to them all. What sort of consequences would that have?

This sort, Lita thought, watching Laurelai slip further and further away from lucidity. The ring, they had to find the ring - but it could be anywhere. Where would Lita even begin? She and Laurelai had Alleytraveled through miles of Alleys since Lita noticed the ring's absence, never mind the time that Laurelai spent on her own. It would be impossible to comb that much of the city before Laurelai succumbed to whatever was happening. There was nothing that could be done, no one who could - 

Lita's head snapped around to look at Whisper, placidly standing there beneath the water, steely eyes wide and unceasing in their observation of everything. Everything at once. Hope flared hot and sudden as metal within her, the warmth kindling her tenacity, her drive, her willingness to do whatever it took to achieve what she wished. It chased away the skulking paralytic of terror, the numb inevitability of loss. There was one person, at least, who knew precisely where to look.

"Where is it?" Lita breathed, and though her voice was nearly lost beneath the echoing trickle of water, she knew Whisper would hear her. "Where is the ring, Whisper? Tell me."

@Voidus

[Voidus]

Whisper stared unblinking at Lita's green eyes. The spymistress of the Dark Alley was ordinarily a difficult woman to read, but nothing could be hidden from the Chapel. The Chapel let her hear the pleading in her voice, the edge of desperation that even another tineye would struggle to catch. What Whisper had once referred to as 'whispers', incoherent and impossibly faint hints of some larger plan that she could never decipher, were as easy to read for her now as a book in her lap. She felt every recalled memory, saw every flash of an amicable conversation of tea at Laurelai's apartment, heard every peal of inebriated laughter at a wine bar, every friendly smile as the two passed by each other in the Alleys.

"Knowledge." Whisper said. "Has a price. A price I pay happily for those I serve, and that which they have requested of me. But none have requested this but you Lita. This is your own request."

Thin lips curled into a smile as she saw another series of memories flash past, this same phrase, how often had it been repeated? She saw the objections rising in Lita's mind, her her argument before she could even make it.

"No." Whisper said, cutting off the redhead. "Her father did not request this of me. And indeed would it be in his best interests? A broken daughter who thinks him a stranger? And I certainly do not think that it is for his sake or his goals that you ask this. No, this question is yours Lita, meant to benefit only yourself. And Laurelai. So. Are you willing to pay the price?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Laurelai dragged her bleary eyes towards the shadow in the azure light. The girl in the waters. She was saying something, talking to someone. Each word took a torturously long time to enter her mind, be understood, and then placed in the context of its fellows. But there were some words that she recognized. Her name for instance, repeated a few times both by the shadow, and another person had used it... moments ago. Called to her. Someone who was outside of her field of view. They were talking about her.

That was... bad? She wasn't quite sure. Some inner instinct told her that it was. That people talking about her ended with problems. But the specifics wouldn't come to mind, every tim she tried it felt like ascending a staircase of air. She expected to feel solid footing only to enter a free fall.

But her father... they had mentioned 'her' father. Laurelai's? But why were they talking about him? Lucien Esserethel was many things but relevant to the Dark Alley was not one that Laurelai had ever thought of.

@ZincAboutIt

[Ashbringer he/him]

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Welcome to Era 6

If there was a party in the Alleys, Kalten didn't know where it was.  And that was fine by him.

The young man tugged at his collar, more out of habit than anything else, and admired his new office. It was fairly small, and still bore a faint scorch mark on one far corner where his predecessor had managed to remove themselves from existence. He thought he'd been told it would be cleaned, but perhaps an electrified spiking left a mess beyond the average Investiture, or perhaps it was just a reminder. In the center sat a large desk with a Stormlight wick for lighting and fabrials, a fairly simple (but filled) inbox and outbox, and a few bottles of wine. Well, most of them were wine. A few his favorite whiskeys. Then there was that one which... he'd deal with later. He'd need to get a better storage system, for the paper and the alcohol.

That wasn't really the extent of the office, Kalten knew. It was its own Alley, one that could largely be expanded and molded to his liking, as much as any Alley could. But that needed Alleymatics, and his first venture at Department head couldn't very well be requesting Alleymatics send someone over for renovations.

Department Head of Public Relations of the Dark Alley.

Most people would say it didn't feel real. You didn't get any higher than that, not without working against some of the oldest beings the universe had ever known. And that wasn't liable to be tried again. This was the top of the top of the best of the best. With nothing to do but fall.

For Kalten, it was very real.

He locked his office door and sealed the Alley, then sat at his desk, splaying his watch over the Storm-lit bar. He wasn't burning copper, so it should let him know if anyone overly angry was outside. First on the pile, a man who claimed a shadowed cat had stolen the inside of one of his ears. Kalten gave that a look for about five seconds before marking it for a subtle memory alteration, and a request for R&D to look into shadowed cat creations. Either they did make it and it got loose, or they soon would, but it would be better to know whether this individual had been a Hemalurgy victim or was just off his rocker.

Kalten knew what was happening. He knew that despite all his former-coworkers-turned-subordinates' exultations of his knowledge, that he was chosen to lead their Department because they thought he would maybe survive a few meetings with the other Heads. But he had survived. And here he was, with the Vigil going on in the Alleycity. So many of the Department Heads were out and about, celebrating their success. And Kalten was here, de jure one of the most powerful people still in the Alleys. Possibly the most powerful, if Mac was out and about.

He briefly thought of seeing where that power could go. Then he reached into his desk, grabbing a small sliver of copper, pricking his finger and then swallowing the piece, extracting and burning that thought away.

In the future he could see where that power could go. For now, hopefully it would be enough power to work for ten minutes before somebody bothered him.

[Stormlightsong]

Bacchus lurches into the building and presents a card, it says "Bacchus". they mime signing their name onto a sign up sheet and their closed eyes stare forward questioningly.