I think I am here.

Rob couldn’t stop himself from tensing slightly when James hugged him. He stared blankly at the wall in front of him, unsure what to say or how to react. The experience was so... foreign. More so than even fighting Voidbringers. He had to admit it. He had to tell James what was bothering him. “I’m slipping, James,” he said quickly and bluntly to get it over with. He continued staring at the blank drywall of James’ room, somehow finding it easier to talk that way than when facing someone. “It was easier in the beginning. When I could feel whatever I wanted but keep a blank face. Be sad and not cry. Be angry but not yell. Be happy but not smile. That’s who I was when Doc let me in here, and that’s who I am now, and for most of my life it’s worked perfectly. Without fault.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “But these days... I don’t know what’s happening. I get... tired of school, and almost frown. I get happy at winning a battle and almost smile. I get angry and feel like a pressure cooker about to explode, barely under the surface. With Ashlyn... I feel happy, but it becomes so much harder to hide it when she’s around. Why can’t I hide it?” His voice was still monotone. “I know to you, it probably doesn’t seem like much. And I want you know I never judged you, or Ben, or any of the other guys for expressing their feelings. This is just who I am, who I was raised to be. So why does it feel like it’s collapsing over me? The more time I’ve been here, the friends I’ve made, the battles I’ve fought... it’s all make it harder for me to keep it all in? Even now, speaking to you. It’s harder to stay impassive then it ever used to be. One of these days I’m... I’m...” He forced himself to spit the word out. He’d already said to much to James. “One of these days I’m scared I’m going to smile, or laugh or show something. And then everything’s going to flood out.”

“That’s true,” Rob said, and fell silent. You’re skirting around the main point, he told himself. You didn’t come here and disturb his research to ask him about wars and the Voidbringers, admit it. You didn’t even come here to ask about the sphere, did you? No. There’s something else. Tell him. “James...” he began. But Rob didn’t want to. He clutched the sphere in his palm, ready to leave, hovering by the doorframe... but he couldn’t get himself to depart without addressing the real issue. He hated having to open up in this way to James, but James was a Bondsmith. That’s why Rob had come. Because Bondsmiths were wise, and they always knew what to do when you didn’t. Like Doc. Doc was a LIAR and you KNOW IT! Yes, Doc was a liar. That’s why James was his only Bondsmith option left. Whether he liked it or not. And so far, James had a breadth of understanding far beyond what Rob had expected. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as Rob worried. He looked back up at James and continued. “I... saw what you did with that door. That’s probably what you’re researching now, I’m guessing. Or, were researching before I came in. I noticed you didn’t replace the door, or make a new one. You fixed it, but without any lasting marks. Like it had never been broken in the first place. Do you...” He looked down. “Do you think you could do the same for a person what you did to the door? Maybe not physically, but... cognitively?” It was healing in a way Regrowth could never touch, and if anyone had it, it was the Bondsmith.

Nekri sighed, but didn’t make any more objections. “Fine. You sound like one of those paranoid old men, sitting on a bench by the street.” A side effect of his frustration, his illusion wavered, until he replaced it with one that looked less suspicious. He kept the knife, though. He liked the way it made Jared look uncomfortable. @xinoehp512

Jassir watched her read and got up. “Well, I won’t be disturbing you any longer. Say, I might have to check out that book after your done. No spoilers!” And with that he was off, tactically cartwheeling away to find another target to make fun of.

Jassir listened. Those lines were good. He mentally stored them away for later use, standing up. “Maybe I should call myself the King’s Wit,” he considered. He smiled at the King’s Lady. “I don’t think the King would like that very much, though, as it would imply he has none of his own. So, it’ll just have to stay as ‘Jester’ for me.” Besides, he didn’t want anyone confusing him for the actual Wit if they stumbled upon the thread. His character was already so similar, making the name the same would just be asking for confusion

Jassir listened intently, and tried to catch a glimpse of the author’s name, so he could see more books like it. Sandon Branderson. “Tell me,” he asked the King’s Lady. “Is there a Jester in this story?”

“They all start out pretty good,” Jassir said, gesturing to the book. “Then, the main character dies and you question why you even bought it in the first place.” He’d read a lot of books as a kid, and had his heart broken by many of them. He smiled at the King’s Lady. “What’s it about? Hopefully not something as dreadfully boring as a Royal ball, I hope.”

“You’re keeping me, the Jester, in suspense?” Jassir leaned back and smiled, watching the Raveness leave just elegantly as she’d entered. “My, my, you are an evil woman.” Jassir turned back to the King’s Lady and grinned. “Thank you. If I wasn’t, I’d probably be hung, drawn and quartered by the king. You could say my life depends on you laughing.” A lie, but a fun one. He tilted his head. “Say, what book is that?”

Jassir watched in wonder as the Raveness intimidated the general himself. Of course, he knew her power in the court, but it was rare to see it exercised so publicly like this. He grinned. “Not muscly, but a saviour all the same. I’ll take it. A favour? Now, what would that be?” Now, that was interesting. What could the head torturess of the King need from someone like him? The thought was enticing. He watched the King’s Lady who’d been laughing seem down after Caden left, so he leaned in for a moment for one final quip. “Hey,” he whispered. “Looks like his bark was worse than his bite, after all.” @Random Bystander

Jassir just lifted his hands, unafraid of death, though the possibility he could nick a nifty scar did unsettle him a bit. “Oh, no,” he said, raising a hand to his head and stifling a laugh. He glanced towards the minor nobleman who’d stood up to Caden before. “Hey!” He called out. “Where‘s my muscly saviour? I think I deserve one, too, frankly.” @Shard of Thought

“Coincidentally,” Jassir said. “That just so happens to be one person in the entire kingdom, and the last person you’d expect.” Did the Raveness want him dead? He glanced towards the King’s Lady laughing and he grinned. What was a performer without an audience? “Of course, I would never dare you call you a dog now,” Jassir said with fake solemnity. “You’re very powerful, of course, barking orders at young attendants, howling at the enemy. I’m sure the idea of fighting in the ball was very fetching for you, too.”

And then... the fight was over. The nobleman continued to their seats without even a scratch. “Come on!” Jassir said, throwing his hands up. He looked to General Caden. “Caden! Not even a light shove? A slug across the face? Tsk tsk, you’ve tamed since last ball. Was it because I called you the king’s dog last time? I promise, if you get in this brawl I will never sully your poor, noble name like that ever again.” Jassir smiled.

Jassir watched a scuffle happen from a distance and cursed under his breath, hopping off his staff and glancing back to the Raveness with a look of sudden seriousness. “Apologies,” he said. “I’ll be back.” With that, he dropped his staff and cartwheeled over to the group, a rush of colourful tassels and intricate flips as he bounced energetically between Caden and the minor noble he was going against, tiny between two giants. “Hey, gentlemen!” He said with a sickly grin, the bells on the side of his hat tinkling. “While there’s no greater pleasure to me than to see two ‘civilised’ men brawling like animals in the middle of a ballroom, maybe... actually, never mind.” He jumped back suddenly and clapped his hands. Why should he have to break up fights? It was their fault for starting them! “Everyone! Take a look at this!” He called out, pointing to Caden and the minor noble. “General Caden’s getting into another fight! My money’s on the noble.” “No way,” a young nobleman whispered from next to him. “Jester, do you see General Caden?” Jassir just smiled back. “If Caden loses this fight,” he said. “Then I’m taking your shoes. If he wins....” he paused. “I’ll tell you the Raveness’ favourite colour.” Now this ball was shaping up to be something fun. @Shard of Thought @The Ward's Guard

Nekri followed. “I guess, but it’s not like anyone would believe you even if they did hear, right? They’d probably just think we’re religious... or cultists, talking about magic.”

After Jared had gone inside, Nekri approached the man and masked himself in another illusion - a stereotypical criminal, big and burly. After a moments thought, he conjured the image of a large knife. Then, he went to work. The mugging was relatively straightforward. They often were. A little bit of intimidation and some handed-over monies, and he’d let the victim go free. It wasn’t like he could actually do anything. After a moment Nekri entered the inn again, tossing a coin to the innkeeper. He realised he still looked like a muscly criminal but was too lazy to change it, so he just winked at Jared and assumed he’d understand. “So,” he said. “What room did you get us? Maybe you can tell me something about this ‘silence’, too. I’ve gotten you to Dox-Marina, after all, haven’t I?”

“Shame,” Jassir said, looking around at the bustle of activity as more nobles joined the ball. “You seem to accomplish that well enough already, though, so I wouldn’t fret. My, my, is that Lady Hvenkar? Tsk tsk, poor thing.” He kept his eyes on the noblewoman. That was someone who’d had her mask, their safety as wife of a powerful Lord, ripped away, and now she was back. Months later. Jassir had to commend the tenacity of that, and he almost decided he wouldn’t mock her. Not tonight. “Well, I best get back to my theatrics,” he said, turning to the Raveness and winking at her. “Don’t you worry, I’ll make sure all of Mendahar knows your colour preferences by the end of tonight. Meanwhile, you just stay here, do your thing. Look intimidating.” He paused. “Must get lonely, not being able to interact with anyone normally,” he mused. “Though I suppose that goes for me, too.”

“How dreadful,” replied Jassir, feigning horror. “All of these nobleman, suddenly disappearing? Who would I have to make fun of? Why, I’d have to resort to mocking the King, and then it’d be me under your knife!” Though he smiled and joked, he watched her reaction with interest. Indeed, while everyone wore a mask, some wore more layers than others. Underneath that intimidating demeanour, that sharp black, who was the Raveness? It was a mystery that never failed to allure Jassir. “I notice you’re sticking to your brand,” he said, gesturing to her dress. “Black dress, black mask. Why not embrace a little colour? I’d find few things more frightening than the Raveness herself in a technicolor shawl.” He tilted his head and pretended to be deep in thought. “Would you even be the Raveness, then? More like the Rainbow Lorikeet... of Death.”

“Excuse you, I’ll have you know my garb is the peak of Jester fashion,” Jassir said, twirling around on the spot, sending his multicoloured tassels spinning about. “This vivid orange and purple didn’t come cheap, you know. And the best part? The King paid for it all. Maybe I’ll destroy it in a brawl so he’ll have to pay for another one.” He held his staff vertically and perched on it with sudden spryness, balancing on it and looking down on the Raveness with a grin. He should have expected she’d bend his words to seem like a compliment. “And speaking of eyes...” Jassir said, tilting his head towards the main seating areas. “Young Lord Karoban over there, by the banner? He seems to have an eye for the king’s new agricultural lands. Very ambitious man, that. Outspoken, too.” He smiled at the Raveness, a twinkle in his eye. Speaking to her was like flirting with death herself, and it was thrilling. “Maybe you should visit his table, hmm? Show him his place? Not that I’d dare tell the Raveness what to do...” he smiled. “I’m just a lowly Jester, after all.”

“Great,” Nekri said, then pointed at the inn. “You go inside and book us a room, I’ll get us some money to pay with since you clearly have none.” Already he spotted a lonely looking man walking down the street. Nekri sighed. He hated muggings. They were all so easy.

Jassir found it amusing that most attendees of tonight’s ball would be wearing two layers of masks. Of course, there were the boring masks, the physical type. Jassir noticed them when he emerged onto the ballroom floor in a flurry of movement and colour, the nobles with the green or gold or purple masks, thin and flimsy and yet worth more than a peasant’s monthly allowance. Those were the tedious masks, the ones which didn’t really obscure anything. And then there was the second layer, the one much harder to spot. Jassir moved between the tables of socialites, flamboyantly twirling his staff, which was decorated with ribbons. The second layer was the one that hid beneath skin and flesh, that resides in the core of a man. “Careful there!” he called out to Lady Berick, making his way over to the table where she was seated with her husband. “That’s your third cup of wine, dear, and the ball’s just begun! Although...” He took a long glance at her husband, then patted the Lady on the back. “Nevermind, I understand completely.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” The Lord snapped, standing up. Jassir raised his hands in the air, though the grin that danced on his face never ceased. “Nothing! It’s nothing, except, well, my, my, Lord Berrick, that’s a nice mask you have. Tell me, what animal is it? Snake? Rat? Pig?” Jassir slapped his forehead. “My mistake, that seems to be your actual face! My apologises.” A lord sitting with them spat out his drink, and the Lord fumed. Even the Lady seemed to hide her smile behind her wine. The Lord moved to say something but Jassir waved and left for another table. Indeed, beneath the obvious mask there was a deeper, more subtle masquerade, the one that continued even after ball’s were over. The kind of masquerade that inspired betrayals, that hid corpses underneath rugs. Beneath Lord Berrick’s strong-man facade, for example, there was an insecure child. That was hardly a fact to disturb the king about, but Jassir noticed it all the same. He moved to intercept another table when a lady entered and caught his eye immediately, making his breath catch. But it wasn’t just any lady. It was her. The Raveness. “My, my,” he said smoothly, pulling up beside her with a grin. Unlike most of the court, he didn’t fear the Raveness that much. Only a normal, healthy amount. He knew the king would never betray his most well-hidden spy. “How long as it been since we last met? Seems like an eternity since I last made fun of your shoes. I notice you’re wearing different ones now, by the way.” @Shard of Thought

He didn’t seem sure. Nekri said nothing. The next few minutes were silent as they finally approached the town in the dead of night. Nekri introduced themselves as travellers to the weary gate guards and they were let in without further comment. Inside Dox-Marina itself, a sweeping mist covered the streets and back alleys, and the sounds of the town were... mostly silent. Nekri hopped off his horse, looking around. “I guess we could look for your sister now, if you want,” he said, frowning. “Though, the fact that it’s nighttime and everyone’s inside... plus the mist, it’s not going to help. Or, option two,” He gestured to a squat building which advertised itself as a bar and inn. “We rent a room, sleep, then start searching first thing tomorrow. Maybe get a drink or two.” Nekri shrugged. “What do you say?”

Nekri glanced back at Jared pensively, bringing his horse out of the forest and back onto a paved out path again. “That’s... gotta hurt,” he said with sudden thoughtfulness, then looked back in front of him. The sun had dipped below the horizon and night was spreading across the sky. “Not having your own kin remember you... I mean, I have no kin so I can’t relate, but that’s gotta hurt.” He rode a little more in silence. “How’re you going to fix her memory? Is that possible?”

Nekri nodded, stifling a stab of annoyance. He didn’t talk much, this Jared, though Nekri supposed that was typical for someone who practised ‘Silence’ as a literal magic. The grey, dreary town of Dox-Marina appeared in the distance. Apparently run by a corrupt lord, the place was a perfectly boring town. Which made it great for someone to hide in it. “And she’s hiding from you... why?”