ZincAboutIt

Nerin blinked when Attayl simply turned and walked out of the parlour, Brillin following after immediately without a word. She looked around, suddenly very alone, and wandered towards one of the tables before sliding into a chair. The silence pressed in close, thick like heavy wool over her mouth and nose. She could stay here - she should stay here and wait this whole thing out. This kind of conflict was no place for some Soother girl with nothing but two hairpin daggers. She stood quietly and crossed back to the bar, kneeling down and fumbling with the false backing of one of the shelves. Nerin reached into the secret compartment and withdrew four vials of Brass flakes suspended in solution and one small, wood-handled pistol. She set everything on the bar top, then flicked the corks out of two of the vials and downed their contents. The other two she slipped into one of her pockets. Nerin checked the pistol to make sure it was loaded, then slid it into her other pocket. It was a heavy, cold weight against her thigh. With a sharp, quick sigh, Nerin pulled back half her dark hair into a small knot and slid her two pins into place there. She nodded, though no one was watching. There was no one left here but her. She checked the dead bolt on the front door, made sure all the shutters were closed, and slipped out the side door into the alleyway that ran beside the parlour. Her fingers shook slightly as she turned the key in the lock, and she avoided looking at the red graffiti scrawled on the wall. She set off down the street, hands in her pockets, peering down each side alley as she went. Nerin was nearly running when she finally heard low voices, and her ankle felt tender where she'd twisted it earlier the day before. The familiar figures of Attayl and Brillin resolved themselves in the low light. "Someone had to lock up the place," she said, catching her breath. Nerin pulled the little pistol out of her pocket and offered it to Brillin. "Know how to use one of these? I don't. Probably blow my hand off. But I figured, why not?" @Sorana @Ookla the Maybe-Existent

Corette noticed the man moments before he appeared, a new Investiture signature thumping softly against her Bronze senses. It was a soft, quiet kind of rhythm, the kind that seemed more likely to be an object than a person. It reminded Corette of the small rhythms that hovered around Adren and his two Awakened artifacts. The slight tinkle of breaking crystal echoed through the cavern and she cursed softly, turning off her Bronze again. Stupid, she chided herself. Stupid. She stepped back a bit, getting her balance under her and moving her right hand to her thigh, ready to reach down through the slit in her coveralls and slip out her long dagger if needed. Corette gave the newcomer a small smile, noting how unaffected Althea seemed at his sudden arrival. Did she know him? Another Ghostblood agent perhaps? He wasn't wearing coveralls, nor did he have a headlamp or harness rig like the rest of them. Which meant he wasn't with ACE. More trouble, she thought, not taking her eyes from the man. "Sightseeing?" she called. "Or are you here for something else?" @Ookla the Maybe-Existent

I like Alleycommon. It also works well with the DA covert language Alleycant, it's a logical progression.

I'm totally at a loss of what I'm going to do with the remainder of my life. I have no goals or aspirations, there is nothing that I'm really looking forward to. I'm staring down the better part of (statistically) ~sixty more years of living and I have no idea what on earth I'm going to do with all that time. It seems like such a long while, and I already feel like I've done everything that I really want to do. I don't like travelling, I don't have a "bucket list," I don't enjoy projects or other such things. So much time feels impossibly daunting, and feels like such a terrible obligation. I'm just very overwhelmed with this prospect.

Hello, I've realized I don't have the mental bandwidth to carry this many characters. Should I hide my singular post in the Prequel Thread or simply make a note that I'm archiving the characters? @Ookla the Dreamer

Corette had walked as much of the atium cavern as she could, drawing out the rough layout in a small notebook and jotting down what the others were saying. In between notes, she sent short transmissions in Alleycant back to Matthieu and to the others who would be coming down soon. The twirls of her pen would appear random to anyone else, only bits of shorthand, code words, or a very clipped sentence made its way back to the Alleys. The situation here was as she'd suspected - everyone too nervous and unsure to do anything decisive. That was good. It gave her people more time to prepare. She gave cool glances towards Adren and Karin, unsure what to think of them. Karin was DA but she hardly seemed interested in this discovery. Not her department, likely. Researchers, so single-minded at times. Adren was another story. Corette had expected him to do something with that hatchet of his besides hit rocks and gaze at it with melancholy eyes, debating ethics and 'right' and 'wrong' with the Elsecaller. Was it an act? Corette cocked her head slightly, making another note, and then walked back to the group. She'd slipped back into her coveralls after drying off, and the warmth was lovely after her dip in the freezing pool below. "The Dark Alley is likely the best bet in terms of safe storage of this material," she said quietly, careful not to appear eager in the slightest, only as though she were weighing all their options. "Flooding the city with this metal could cause untold havoc. But perhaps allowing the people here to come away with a small fortune would not be too harmful. Say, twenty beads each? There's few enough of us, and then when we've portioned it out, Karin and Adren call their people and they secure this place away. Out of reach." @Ookla the Dreamer @ElephantEarwax @Ookla the Foxed

It’s too bad that there’s a Mistborn character in Era 2 named Allik because I like “Allic” as the language name but it’s far too close

Nerin pushed the hair back from her face with one hand, feeling a headache beginning somewhere between her eyes. There was too much happening here, too many pieces moving across the board. Lance was trapped somewhere in a canal warehouse, and if the Scarlet's won this war she was as good as dead. They all were. We should leave, she thought desperately. We should all leave, right now. Hide in another Octant for a few days, then slip out with a baggage train. Maybe head for another city. New Seran? Perhaps Brillin knows people in New Seran. I could start over, open a new parlour... with no money. With nothing. I have nothing. There was a sudden, sharp crack, and it was only the delayed stinging in her palm that told Nerin it had been her own hand coming down hard on the wooden counter. She glared up at Zeke, her eyes hot and narrowed, and she pressed a hard, indelicate Soothing on the boy. Nerin flattened his arrogance and his swagger, most of his curiosity, and all of his pride, leaving only the rotting timbers of uncertainty and fear to hold up the rickety house of his emotions. "No one is going anywhere with you, boy," she said, low and hard. "We're under the Farriers' protection now. You might say they're finished, but I'd bet ten boxings that they've still got enough metal to take care of you." Zeke paled a bit, and she could see one of his hands shaking. "Now get out." @Ookla the Dreamer

"Ah, yes, Hazel Blackmore. It has indeed been about two years, though time can get slippery around here. I will add her to the list." Matthieu did so, jotting down the girl's name beneath the rest of his list and placing a tiny tick-mark next to it. That done, he looked back up at Aylitha. "Feel free to contact her. Simply notify me when she is ready to be sent. Your continued aid on intelligence will be much appreciated." He smiled a wolfish smile full of teeth and cunning, his mind already bent back towards the Atium. With enough Atium, Matthieu could live a many long count of years indeed, could be younger, faster, stronger, as he was in his youth on Scadrial. And he could do it all without the unpleasant side-effect of having a vicious god whispering into his mind. Atium, but no Ati to go along with it. He smiled a bit wider. "I look forward to working with you," he said to Aylitha, inclining his head again. "When you return, there is no need to knock. My door is always open to a colleague of your caliber."

If you want to create a crazy backstory on their arrival, please do. But also, don't stress yourself about it

You could probably do it that way, but also, arrival in the Alleyverse can occur in many ways and is usually rather random. They could hook up with a Worldhopper caravan, for example, or just sort of... fall through a hole in reality We've had all sorts of arrival stories. Some people keep it deliberately vague on purpose.

Matthieu watched Aylitha with his Steel eyes, musing on how she seemed at once quite human and terribly alien. He barely considered himself human anymore, but he had been, once. Aylitha seemed something else entirely; a fascinating person to be sure, and certainly worthy of her position as Head of Bioscience. That had never been his specialty, but he made a mental note to go visit her department sometime and get a feel for what they did there. He inclined his head with a slight smile when he saw Aylitha mimic his gesture of folded hands. "That seems perfectly reasonable," he said, moving his notepad back before himself and poising the pen above the paper. A single drop of ink - mixed with metal so he could see it - dotted the surface. It appeared as a tiny star in a field of black etched with thin blue lines. "And continued information would be quite helpful. Corette is doing what she can to relay events, but open use of Alleycant is hardly inconspicuous. Your... abilities would be of great use. You are right, indeed, that a speedy extraction and securing of the cavern for our use would be most advantageous to us. And of course, any funds from the Atium would be allocated where needed." He smiled a little wider, and would have winked - had he eyes to wink. "Now, to the manner of this agent of yours - what is their name? I plan to assemble a group within the day, and anyone with your direct recommendation would of course have a place among them." @Ookla the Foxed

Lita’s vision had narrowed to a blue-white tunnel, and she stepped towards the water like a woman dying of thirst. She would make quick work of Laurelai - it would be easy with the woman so still, so enamoured, so —“ ”Lita, Halt.” The Stranger’s words struck her like a bell, the deep certainty of his tone cutting through the dense fog of desire that had flooded her mind. It was a narrow slice of lucidity, but whatever was left of Lita's resolve clung to that corridor, that voice like a black knife in a sea of cruel blue-white. He spoke again, and Lita did as he bade her, her body moving in a stupid, slow torpor, unwilling to obey. But she forced it to obey, forcing the bit and bridle of her will into the gnashing teeth of her ravenous want. Lita slipped behind The Stranger and watched Laurelai with something close to a clear mind, the rational portion taking the reins and cataloguing what, exactly, had happened. She set her jaw against the desire to dash across the floor and into the pool, nails making red crescents in her palms as she clenched her fists. Lita would not be shackled to anything, not even this. Not even that beautiful water, so beautiful, such power... Lita forced her eyes away and down, and something like a low whine pressed its way out of her mouth at the effort. She blushed at the noise, so base and inhuman. An animal sound, some sick mixture of lust and greed and frustration. The humiliation led to anger, and that seemed to finally clear her mind. She gave her head a little shake and cast wide, frightened eyes up at the Stranger, careful not to look at the water. ”What’s happening to me? To us?” Her voice was hoarse, but it was her own - keen and clever and ready to act. Her own voice, her own will. She took a deep breath and readied her Tin and Pewter. @Fatebreaker @Voidus

Lita was caught up in her own thoughts when Laurelai stepped beneath the gentle fall of water, but the woman's motion quickly jerked her out of her reverie. There was a brief and terrible flash of rage that tore through her then, a jealousy beyond her own comprehension, and Lita stepped forward, her hand already outstretched to shove Laurelai out from under the water and take her place. A sound off to her right, and Lita thought she heard someone else step towards them. Okame, perhaps? The possibility of the Radiant joining them was enough to shake Lita's momentary fury, moving her mind closer to cool, rational thought. Then, the voice. "What is this place?" It was soft, in the way that snow is soft. Soft and cold and dangerous. Lita felt her head snap around, all her attention now drawn towards the other end of the grotto, and the man standing there. The Stranger looked much the same as he had six months ago, wild as the sea in storm and fathoms deeper. His face was intense, fixed upon the water as it glowed and poured down on Laurelai's head, her form still as a picture. An image flashed before Lita's eyes - the Stranger, wreathed in a shower of sparks. Sparks in the darkness. Then, it was gone. She blinked once, her hand going instinctively to the spike in her side as she met the Stranger's mismatched eyes. The spike gleamed silver-white in the glow of the water, though none of that light reflected off his right eye. Lita let herself get drawn into the well of darkness for a moment before pulling herself away. Think, Lita, some rational portion of her mind urged. Think. She forced herself to take a breath and nudged her Tin higher, observing the Stranger's gaze as he took in the water. It was a familiar sight, one that she recognized in herself. Hungry fascination. Yearning. Need. "I found it," she whispered, her voice carrying through the too-still air. "I caught the glow from a hundred meters up, and we came down a chasm rent in the tunnel floor. White light dancing on the stones, like starlight, and the smell of water. Cool, damp I followed it here, and the others followed me. I found it." She regarded the Stranger warily, then looked down at the Coin she still held in her hand. Lita swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "I - I think I stepped in. For a moment. I remember, and I... don't remember. I'm not wet, but, I should be wet. Time, things, it was all..." Lita scrunched up her face in frustration - she wasn't making any sense at all. She grit her teeth, then looked back to the Stranger. "It's called The Chapel of Rain," Lita told him, pointing to the arch of stone leading into the grotto, where the Old Terris was carved. "I..." She cut off, still watching him watch the water fall gentle and luminous and seductive. Before she could think, her mouth was moving again, the words spoken soft as a breeze; she knew he would hear them. A slow, creeping smile moved of her mouth, mirthless and fascinated. "Can you feel it?" She breathed. "It whispers... it promises." Lita stepped back towards the water, her boot crunching softly on the powdery gravel floor. "Promises... everything."

Matthieu felt his mouth twist a bit in irritation - not at Aylitha, but at his circumstances. "It is rare nowadays that I get a chance to leave this room," he began, his voice edging towards annoyance. "Long years have passed since I have been able to stalk the Alleys as I once did - but that is no matter." He sat and folded his hands on his desk, fixing Aylitha's new form - that of a girl with dark hair - with his full attention. "The matter of the Atium," he went on, "is still in a state of flux, as you might imagine. Of course, R&D is drooling into their petri dishes over the possibilities of that much Atium, though sending a horde of whatever-they-have down there would surely lead to an absolute bloody panic. Hardly the worst thing in the world, but there are far subtler ways to go about the extraction. I've been attempting to contact Mac - our agents have worked together in the past, and with one of mine already in the team that would be an easy pairing, but I've been unable to reach him. I've had some correspondence from L--" Matthieu paused, pressing his lips together to avoid calling him 'Lord Voidus' - Matthieu had been corrected on the matter several times by Voidus himself, who apparently disliked being revered. It was rather hard for Matthieu to reconcile his deep awe for the Dark Alley leader with his disapproval at Voidus's inability to accept his own divinity. But that was neither here nor there. "From Voidus," he continued. "Apparently there are potentially a few DoCI operatives down there already, though more can of course be sent. I've already begun assembling a short list of my own people to go down there and assess the situation. Apparently, a few bleeding hearts down there want to destroy the Atium." Matthieu clicked his tongue in vague distaste. "Some people are so ruled by fear that they let it blind them to opportunity, don't you think?"

Matthieu pinched the bridge of his nose and set down the piece of paper he'd been studying with a slight sigh. The spike in his other hand continued to twitch and vibrate; this Atium news had the whole DA in an uproar, and he'd received at least fifty messages in the last half hour alone. He allowed himself a small smile at the knowledge that it was Corette, his little Corette, that had made the initial discovery. He'd have to give the girl a promotion if she made it back out of the caverns. Maybe some Feruchemical Connection? Matthieu's smile grew wider, dragging up to one side like the curve of a fish hook. The girl was already a wraith in the dark; that would make her nearly unstoppable. He held out his hand and burned Iron, and the metal pen on the edge of his desk zipped into his waiting fingers. He jotted down a few notes about Corette, then got a bit lost in the plans for arranging a full Acquisitions inquiry down into the caves. When the knock came at his door, he was actually surprised. Getting old, Matthieu, he thought with a low growl of irritation - more at himself than anything. And it was true. He was old now, old in a way he hadn't thought possible before, though he'd never admit it. He wondered, briefly, if his Lord had felt this old. Those days back in the Final Empire were smudged, faded memories now, but he could still recall the Lord Ruler's face, and his eyes. Matthieu remembered Rashek's eyes far more vividly than he could remember his own; it had been a long time since he'd been granted the Steelsight. He thought his eyes might have been green, or perhaps hazel. With another sigh, he burned more Iron and pulled at the latch on his door, allowing it to swing open and revealing the form of Aylitha. Matthieu cocked his head for a moment, somewhat surprised to see her, then stood and gave his fellow Department Head a shallow bow. "Aylitha," he said, his voice low and gravelly, though touched with a slight warmth. "It has been an age since we last met, though it is always a pleasure to see you. Do come in." @Ookla the Foxed

The hair on the back of Lita's neck stood on end one moment before she felt the odd, pulsing warmth spread out from the Coin in her left hand. For one flash of a moment, the process seemed familiar to her, known in a way she knew little else. Then, that sensation was gone, replaced by the very vivid and very unpleasant sensation of attention. Someone was thinking about her, reaching out for her through the Coin. Ice dripped down the back of her throat and into her belly, freezing her from the inside while simultaneously kindling within her a dark, intense curiosity. Someone was using the Coin. And it could only be one person. Lita felt the world around her dim slightly, fade out a bit so that her concentration was bent entirely on the Coin in her hand. As if she'd have been able to focus on anything else. 'Why?' The question seemed at once terribly familiar and completely foreign, coming from within her mind but also from without. Something very vast and cool and old moved around the edges of her mind like a stalking beast, careful not to rip her apart with the fullness of its attention - not yet, at least. It was him, of course. The Stranger was speaking to her through the Coin. But, she already knew that was possible...right? Lita blinked back another strange, half-remembered flicker of...something, then started to panic as she went back over the Stranger's question. 'Why?' Why what? Had she done something? Was he angry with her? She looked back at the water and the pool, feeling her heart beat faster. By the Survivor, she thought, clutching the Coin harder. Did the Coin go through the water? Is this place causing some kind of interference? Cold terror started flooding her now, and the image of the Stranger walking through the air six months ago to casually tear off one of Lord Ajax's arms played vividly behind her eyes in a sickly tableau. The feeling that she had missed something, that a great and vast event had taken place in the last few minutes returned, and she knew that there would be no lying this time. She had done something, or the water had, or this place had, and the Stranger would know it one way or another. The soft fervency of his singular 'Why?' scared her more than all the fury in the universe. She looked down at her hand, then back to the water, then burned Pewter, allowing the balance and solidity and strength to flood her body. Then Lita took a deep breath and thought into the Coin, pushing the words out and down through her arm, through her hand, and onward. Something happened to me, she sent, and a piece of her rending desire, an image of that glowing, gentle water, danced and shimmered unbidden alongside her words. @Fatebreaker

It had only been a moment, just a flash, but Lita saw Laurelai's singular expression of wounded confusion, her brows drawn up and together, the corners of her mouth drawn slightly downward as if in pain. Then, it was gone, smoothed over into Laurelai's usual cool, porcelain veneer. The look she reserved for others, for outsiders. Not for friends. Her tone never changed, never wavered, maintaining her same dry, easy sarcasm as though nothing had changed. But suddenly, there was a chill that passed between them, and a distance that yawned its wide mouth out and out until there seemed to be a wide fissure running through the space between them. Lita could have reached out and snatched the pen from Laurelai's fingers, but the two might as well have been separated by a city block. Lita kept herself still, quiet, not letting her face show the sudden panic that she felt watching the trust they had built up erode like silt before floodwater. The air in the grotto had grown cooler, it seemed, matching the cold glow of the water, blue-white and distant as starlight. Lita held her tongue pressed between her teeth, wanting to tell Laurelai how strange she felt, how it seemed as though a great time had passed, like she had woken from a vast and complex dream which had faded just to the edges of her consciousness. She could trust Laurelai with this. Her eyes slid towards that gentle fall of water once more, pulled like metal before a Lurcher, and her words died in her throat. No, there was nothing to tell Laurelai, was there? And even if there were, how much could she really trust the woman? What did Laurelai know of her life these past months, holed up with her records and her reports, staining her fingers with ink while Lita stained her own in blood? Nothing, that voice hissed, all quiet venom and acid surety. Do you think she would understand you, accept you, if she knew what you had done? What you had enjoyed doing? If she knew how far beyond intimidating moss addicts and conducting barroom interviews you had gone to get what you wanted? Do you think she knows the bright ecstasy of Pewter turning your fingers into vices, or that sweet, black intimacy of staring into someone's eyes, Tin allowing you to catch the exact moment when they realize that no one is coming for them? When all the fight leaves them, and righteous fury turns all at once into deepest despair? Lita tightened her jaw, trying to force the thoughts away, feeling sick and angry and ravenous all at once, but the whispering continued. She is afraid, it crooned, afraid of this place, afraid of her own weakness. And if she knew even a fraction of what you had done, of what you are yet willing to do, she would fear you as well. And she would be right to do so. Isolation and despair reached out for her then, threatening to wrench tears from her eyes, but Lita forced them back as she had done her whole life. So she was on her own - so what? Lita had been there before, and she could do it again. Sometimes you moved beyond the pace of your companions, your friends. That was the price of power - one of many. Lita should be familiar with paying prices by now. She drew in a breath, then forced herself to grimace in a familiar, easy manner, giving a slightly-exaggerated shiver. "This place makes my nerves itch," she said, giving Laurelai her best apologetic grin. "I didn't mean to snap at you - I guess the Atium news is shaking me up too. Maybe we should get out of here and try and parse through all these Alleycant transmissions before our pens burst into flames." Lita smiled at Laurelai, and tried to ignore the howling, terrifying desire to throw herself under that cool, gentle stream of water and stand there forever.

I would be a brown poodle, because I can be very fancy but also a huge dork. Observe:

Absolutely never

Lita felt a slight heat creep into her cheeks at Laurelai's concern. She must have looked absolutely ridiculous, staggering around, almost tripping over her own feet like an idiot. Very good, Lita. Respectable - a real field agent, you are. "I'm fine," Lita muttered testitly, drawing the heat out of her face and into one of the little rings on her right ear. "I didn't even step into it, must have just missed it. Otherwise I'd be all soaking wet, wouldn't I?" That last question was more for herself than anything, and Lita looked back towards the gentle fall of glowing blue-white water, running another hand over her head. Her hair was completely dry, as was her boot, but she could have sworn... Almost unconsciously, Lita took half a step back towards the pool as Laurelai's words played over and over in the back of her mind. Unless you did see something. If you did then... then what? Nothing had happened, Lita was sure of it. She was sure. The water glowed with a luminous, cool beauty, magnetic. Luring. Lita was suddenly filled with a deep and powerful desire to step back into that water -- Step back in? You never went in to begin with. Right? Lita blinked, then tore her gaze away from the water and back towards Laurelai, who was glaring furiously at her Alleycant pen. Someone, it seemed, was very keen to reach them both. Lita had a rather bad feeling that she knew exactly who it might be. "I doubt there's anything particularly special about this water," Lita said casually, the words out of her mouth before she had even realized she'd spoken them. An odd, gnawing tendril of something dark wormed its way through her belly at the idea of Laurelai stepping underneath that water. "No need to give it any more thought. I tripped, I'm fine. That's it." Lita looked back down to her own pen, her brows drawing inward a little as she tried to understand her sudden emotion. "This whole Atium thing sure has kicked the hornet's nest, hmm?" Jealousy, she realized, flicking green eyes towards Laurelai, a small but fervent portion of herself tearing and screaming at the idea of her friend even touching the water. Even for one moment. Lita quickly hid her own confusion, though she couldn't quite manage to stop her teeth from fretting at the skin of her lips. She was certain that she hadn't touched any of the water; she could remember the entirety of the last few minutes. So why did it feel as though she were forgetting something incredibly important?

Vivica perked up at the sound of Grey's voice filtering through a few doors, accompanied by the continued static and occasional high-pitched whine. "Oh!" She said, then grinned - a little wider this time, and quite a bit sharper, less cheerful. More predatory. "I almost forgot about Sierra." She looked over at Nox, who was still twirling his many spikes and pens. He really was something else, easily her most complex hallucination to date. And an excellent conversationalist. There's a new girl back there," she said, sipping her coffee and looking around for the other cups. "We're doing an experiment. And then, afterwards, we'll have cinnamon rolls! Wanna join? You do seem busy, but I'll even let you have a roll. You seem like you can handle the sugar, Nox. Not like Bennington here - he just goes wild with sugar. Don't you Bennington?" The little octopus gave a great loop through the air, then pulsed with a dark, violet light. Vivica could sense his eagerness to get back into the other room, back to the chair and the images on the wall and the sharp, snapping crackle of sound coming from the radio transmitter. Her blue eyes glittered with a reflection of that dark light, and her smile only widened. "Come on, come on!" She beckoned Nox forward, then picked up the other two cups of coffee, holding them by their handles with a slightly-shaking hand. "It's getting good in there." @Voidus