Lunamor

"We haven't left yet," Jenny shouted back. It had been only a few seconds since they'd last spoken to Roy, yet he was already freaking out. She reluctantly supposed that it was reasonable to freak out if you were trapped in a hole. "What was that about a light?" she asked. While Jenny didn't trust Roy, something in her told her that he wouldn't compromise their quest. And he said this was a way to finish it faster.

641. Repeat things on purpose.

Eza was genuinely surprised by the man's reaction to her request. Instead of acting upset at the idea of breaking into a place you'd just been rescued from, like most people reasonably would be, he went right into planning. She supposed that he might still be upset, but he was handling it quite well. That just made her feel worse for taking advantage of him like this. He didn't seem to deserve it. She decided to answer his questions rapid-fire, the same way he'd asked them. "I need to help someone named Asylum Smedry escape," she said. "They have this thing they call a Talent that makes them lucky. Also unlucky. I don't really understand how it works, but basically it increases their luck supernaturally in both directions. They got out a bunch of bad luck recently, so they are probably pretty lucky again right now. I don't know what that's gonna look like, just that it'll help them in some way. I'd prefer to rescue them sooner rather than later since the constables might move them somewhere else at some point. I know where the cells in the building are." She pointed to a section of the constabulary towards the side where she'd noticed a suspicious lack of metal. "I don't know which cell they'd be in, though. I think we should be pretty careful about this; getting arrested wouldn't be very good, especially since we've both already clashed with the constabulary before. I think I know of somewhere we can hide after helping Lum escape. They have a friend who runs a gambling emporium who's sheltered them from the law before." Hopefully Lucky wouldn't hate them for that- Lum was in quite a bit of trouble this time, more so than during their previous stay. She then burned iron and sent a discarded hammer towards the back of the alley flying into her hand. "I've got iron allomancy. It lets me pull metal things towards me if they're small enough. If they're big enough, I can pull myself towards them instead." She hadn't known much about other magics when she'd arrived to the Alleys- she still didn't- so she figured it was best to explain everything in case the guy hadn't been there very long. "It lets me steal stuff and move around really quickly. The area with the cells has very little metal, though, so I'd be less useful there. I'm good at sneaking too. I'm really quiet." After answering the man's questions, Eza realized that she had forgotten something important. "I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your name," she said, feeling rather bad about that. She hadn't even bothered to learn the name of the guy she was blackmailing yet.

I use the power of quotebox editing to get Spider to give me the sandwich.

Shallan?

aka the GOAT.

The man stood up to his full height, and Eza instinctively took a small step backwards. It was too familiar. He was just as tall as the stranger was, facing her in a narrow alley. This could've ended so much worse. It still might end awfully. This had been an incredibly stupid idea. It was best that she flee now, cut her losses and just get away from the situation. He was injured, so she could outrun him without too much trouble at this point. But she'd promised herself that she wouldn't run away again. This guy was different, anyways. He wasn't the same person and seemed to be at least somewhat nice. He'd sheathed his machete instead of keeping it out, although she'd jumped slightly when he'd suddenly moved it so loudly and quickly. She burned her iron anyways, checking for lines she could pull on to aid in an escape. Some lines leading to the glove on his hand caught her attention. Inspecting the blue lines closely, she realized that the shining veins in the glove were made of a metal she'd never encountered before. That was incredibly odd, to say the least. She gazed curiously at the glove for a moment longer, then remembered what was going on. She put her knife away, then glared at the bird. You couldn't trust those flying jerks. The man's apparent ownership of one wasn't a point in his favor. "I'm Eza, not Elani," she said. "I didn't want to use my real name in front of the constables. I'm not sure how much they know about me." That sounded really suspicious to say out loud, so she decided it was worth explaining her situation. "The police think that I committed crimes that I didn't. I was there on the scene of a crime both times, but I didn't do anything wrong. I was trying to stop the first one, and the second one I couldn't do anything about." That wasn't a lie. Technically, she was innocent in that specific situation. "I need help with getting someone out of that jail," she continued on, gesturing in the direction of the building they'd just been at. "I don't know if I can do it by myself. Chances are they'll try getting out by themselves, and they might be able to partially succeed. I'd like to try and help them with that." She looked over the imposing figure standing before her, and realized that he probably wasn't able to be particularly stealthy. His height and injuries would make staying unseen incredibly difficult. That meant he likely couldn't avoid putting a target on his back again for arrest if he attempted to help with the breakout. It was hardly fair to make him do that. Eza would rob someone, sure, but making them be imprisoned was a step too far. She ran a hand across the side of her face in frustration, wiping away some of the soot. That revealed her pale skin and the large scar stretching from her temple to her chin. At least he didn't seem to be hurt too badly. "Rust, I didn't think this through..."

Eza sighed with relief. The emotion was real, but it also conveniently lined up with her act. The man seemed to be catching on to what she was doing; he was doing a decent acting job. Either that, or he really had hit his head too hard. With all of the swelling, that honestly was pretty likely. ”Thank you, sir,” she said to the constable who had cut him free. She didn’t stop walking, however, wanting to get distance between them and the police in case they figured out the ruse. She didn’t look back to see of they were following; that would make her seem shifty. Instead, she pretended to sneeze once they got a few yards away, causing her to face perpendicular to the constables. Burning iron and keeping her eyes closed to hide their movement, she focused on the tiny blue lines in the side of her vision leading to the thinly metal-plated decorations on the police uniforms. They weren’t moving, indicating that they were staying put. She ended her fake sneeze and looked at the man again. “We’re gonna go home now, Dad. It’ll be alright,” she said, wanting to keep up appearances so long as they were still in ear and eyeshot of others. They turned a corner, moving out of sight, and walked forwards for a moment more. Then, Eza pulled him into a side street and around another corner. It wasn’t too far from the constabulary building so that she could still hear a commotion, but it was in a spot where they would be difficult to find were the constables to go search for them. Eza then proceeded to unsheathe a dagger and back away a few steps. She wasn’t about to risk getting hurt by assuming this potentially violent criminal would be grateful enough for being rescued to not attack her. She started talking quickly and quietly before the man had a chance to speak, completely dropping the daughter act. ”I don’t wanna hurt you,” she said, waving the dagger around a bit to indicate that she was talking about it. “This is just in case you wanna hurt me. I got you outta there because I need help. They also seemed like they were hurting you more than they needed to, and you looked really bad… still look really bad…” She squinted at him. “Do you need to go to a hospital?” She immediately regretted that question. That would render her new plan dead before it could even start. “Wait, no, you can’t help me if you do that, um…” He didn’t seem to be actively dying. “I can take you to a hospital after this, maybe?” Now she just felt bad about all of this. She didn’t try to hide that, preferring that she be perceived as sympathetic rather than cruel. “Oh, and if you try to not help me, I’ll tell the constables I’m not actually your daughter.” Blackmailing a guy who had just been beaten into unconsciousness felt dirty, but she’d committed too much to stop now. She needed to be careful not to make a habit of doing stuff like this. Eza finally stopped talking, feeling that she had gotten all of the important information out. She didn’t want this guy to get the wrong impression of what she was trying to do.

Rust. This guy might be a violent criminal. That was the worst type of criminal and certainly one that would be difficult for her to handle. Even though she was a metalborn, winning fights was not her forte. She was far better at avoiding the need for them in the first place. She would’ve preferred a thief. Eza understood thieves. If you were a competent and considerate thief, no real harm would come to anyone. Hopefully he wasn’t lying when he said that he’d just been jumped by the police without warning. That one constable was acting pretty guilty, which would fit with that claim. She subtly burned iron to ensure that her daggers were still strapped safely to her hips, just in case, then began her pleading. ”He gets scared when he doesn’t know where he is. It makes him act weirdly. If a bunch of random men approached you and tried to take you away, it would make sense to freak out.” Eza made her voice pitifully quiver and gave her best puppy dog eyes. She would’ve stepped in front of the man to act protective of him, but she didn’t trust him to not stab her in the back if she turned away from him. He might just try to run away, too, which would mean a significant part of her efforts were all for nothing. ”Please don’t hurt him sir,” she begged. “It’s not his fault that he gets confused sometimes.” She made sure to project her words so that the small crowd surrounding them could clearly hear them. The older lady who had been clapping nodded along and looked at the constables expectantly.

"Dad, it's me." Her voice cracked at that final word. "I'm Elani, your daughter." She squatted down to get to eye level with him, as he was still on the ground. He was actually acting pretty weird. Had he hit his head too hard? She might have to just drop him off at a hospital instead of enlisting his help. That would be really annoying, although it was better than letting him die in the care of these constables. "Fall. Yeah, you did fall, I think," she said softly. "You've got some new bruises. You'll be ok, though. I promise. I won't let you fall again." Eza made a show of holding back her tears in a heartbreakingly sad display. She then turned away from her "Dad" and back to the constables. "He remembers better when he's at home. He's lived there longer than he's known..." She trailed off, as if she couldn't bear to finish her sentence. She shook her head like she was clearing it. "He'll be better when I take him home. Thank you again for finding him. I don't know what I would've done had I lost him." She gently took his arm and tried to guide him away from the constables before either they or he had time to fully process the oddities of her story.

From her rooftop perch, Eza saw a group of men approaching. Her first instinct was to flee, but something made her pause. Squinting closer, she saw that it was a man being carried by constables. He looked hurt. Really hurt, like someone had hit him in the face and beat him up. Had the policemen hurt him? They were hauling him to the constabulary building instead of getting him medical care, even though he didn't even seem to be conscious. That was cruel. People could die if they were treated like that. Suddenly, a constable said something, then they dropped the man. He sprung immediately into action, fighting deftly against his captors. He almost escaped, but they eventually subdued him. He lasted for a really long time despite being injured and facing several other men, though. She sat there for a moment, wondering why she felt like she shouldn't run and hide. Then, she realized that the man had something she didn't. He had strength. A scheme quickly began to grow in her head. That glowing guy had flown away a while ago, and he was the one who had seen her face, not these guys. There were ways to hide your particularly identifying features when people only knew you by those. Not giving herself time to regret her decision, Eza silently pulled on the smithy's chimney once more, bringing her back to its roof. For her newly created plan to work, she couldn't have such pale skin; the soon-to-be prisoner's skin was much darker than hers. She took a deep breath, shut her eyes tightly, then stuck her face and hands in the plume of sooty smoke rising from the chimney. Her eyes burned even though she'd kept them closed and she barely managed to smother a fit of coughing upon accidentally inhaling some of the fumes. She smeared more of the soot on herself to make her appearance uniform, then stuck her hands in the smoke again for good measure. She noiselessly jumped from the building unseen by the constables, pulling on the large metal chimney to slow her descent. Eza let her long black hair drape over the sides of her face, covering her large scar. Then, she circled around the back of the smithy and started running down the road, acting as if she had just turned a corner. To better sell her intended impression, she looked first at the end of the street without the policemen. "Dad? Are you there?" she said, her voice laced with fear and panic. "Please come out, I need you to come back home!" She finally turned towards the men and gasped, raising her hands to her mouth. "Dad!" Eza sprinted over, grinning widely. "It's ok Dad, I'm here. You're going to be alright." Her face fell as she "noticed" the injuries he was sporting. "Oh, you hurt yourself again..." she said, her voice quiet but still audible. Eza sniffled briefly. She then loudly addressed the constables, not letting the fake tears welling up in her eyes run down her cheeks for fear of washing away the soot. "Thank you so, so much for finding my Dad! He gets lost sometimes. He's got these memory problems, and he can get confused, and really scared, and I just-" Eza cut off, making her voice tremble. She took a deep breath, then put on that sad sort of smile you used when talking about a thing you couldn't change. "I found him, though. You guys found him. Thank you!" A few passersby watched the interaction, drawn by Eza's over-the-top dramatics. One older lady who hadn't seen the policemen beat up the man started politely clapping. Silently, Eza prayed that this guy was smart enough to go along with her ruse.

Maybe adding a part at the end noting how Eighth tried to struggle against the police when they were trying to bring him inside the station would be helpful, if that’s alright. Otherwise Eza’s first reaction would be to hide and she’d lose line of sight on him. Also, does he look visibly beat up from being tackled and knocked out?

That’s a clever idea with the soot, I wouldn’t’ve thought of it. And your idea for Eza’s motivation in helping him makes a lot of sense for her. I’m happy to go with this interaction, although I might be a bit slow to respond today and tomorrow.

I think this is a great idea, I wasn’t looking forward to Eza being stuck on a roof for days to weeks I’m not 100% sure on how to execute it. What you’ve written makes sense as an intro. Maybe she could see from her rooftop spot that the constables are being unnecessarily brutal towards Eighth when they bring him in? They’d have to be rather brutal to make her do something about it, though, and I’m not certain if that would fit the the current characterization of the police (maybe just some really bad apples?). She’s been getting bolder, so she might impulsively pretend to be his daughter who got separated from him and loudly make a big show people nearby would hear about how the nice policemen had helped her “dad” find her and say that he had amnesia problems and kept getting lost since she would expect him to react with confusion. She would’ve seen Frisian fly away, so she might risk being out in the open and cover her scar with her hair since that’s what people are looking for. She’s a very good liar, so might be able to sell it, but I’m not sure if that’s even realistic or not. She’d then try to enlist Eighth’s help in getting Asylum free somehow by blackmailing him about her not being his daughter. They don’t really look alike, though. This is all a stretch, so if you have any other ideas that’d be great.

Granted. Tomatoes are now as poisonous as their cousins, nightshades. I wish for a teddy bear.

I don't understand it very well. How good are you at handling spicy foods?

I wonder why you just disintegrated yourself with a laser, then shrug and pick up the mysteriously unharmed Sandwich that has now fallen to the ground.

After asking around, sacrificing some of her least shiny coins in the process, Eza quickly found the location of the Smokestack constabulary building. She figured that was probably where you would take someone who you’d arrested. The idea of being near it wasn't particularly pleasant- it was the exact type of place she tried to avoid- but she had no other options. She scaled a building barely within eyeshot of the constabulary without assistance from ironpulling; she didn't want to frivolously use her metal supply now that it was getting rather low. Then, Eza burnt iron and surveyed her options. The office was flanked by two buildings. A bakery and a smithy. The smithy had a thick line leading to its roof, visible even this far away. Squinting, she saw that it was connected to a thick metal chimney billowing a steady stream of smoke. The neighbors probably didn't appreciate that very much. Eza, however, great appreciated it. Heavy metallic objects such as that allowed her to use ironpulling in the most effective way. She hopped back down into the street, her hood up as always, and widely circled around to the side of the smithy not visible from the constabulary building. She quietly made her way to the roof and stood behind the chimney, carefully peering out to ensure that the constabulary didn't have a window with a view of the smithy's roof. That didn't seem to be the case, so she carefully crept to the edge. Then, she jumped as far forwards as she could to the constabulary's building's top. In that moment while she began to descend through the air, she ironpulled on the metal chimney behind her. Since it was towards the top of the smithy's sloped roof, it was higher up than her. This meant that her momentum was rapidly decreased to the point where, when her feet made contact with the roof, it was completely silent. She then kept her iron burning for a second more, noting where lines entered the building. One section was conspicuously devoid of blue lines. That was probably where the jail cells were. Letting criminal allomancers near metal things was a bad idea, and the Scadrian Smokestack district probably had lots of them. She carefully walked over to the area without lines, ensuring that her footsteps were soft enough to make no noise. Eza kept low, trying to make herself as difficult to see as possible. She then proceeded to wait for the yelling to start. Lum was the sort of person who would almost certainly try to escape. At the very least, they'd cause chaos. If it got late enough, however, she'd try to do a more thorough inspection of the building. The risk of being seen would be smaller when it was dark and most people were in their homes. @Scars of Hathsin @Stormlightsong @Koloss17 @TheFrugalWizard

Luna the Sharder isn’t a he, so a random man also named Luna hands over a random sandwich.

I tell George that he’s a good boy, and he takes the sandwich back and gives it to me in appreciation for his achievements being validated.

Echidna Excalibur

Mim wore an excessive amount of clothes.