ZincAboutIt

Well that is true enough.

I'm glad that this is obvious, because I'm pushing it in this direction on purpose. Also, Voidus, you flatter me :3 The negative effects will likely come later, if I decide to push her into full Savantism. That would be fun to RP!

That's enough attention for a bit, Lita thought, watching as Deteca stepped in, giving her a glare. She could glare all she liked; Lita had seen worse. Rusts, she'd seen worse today. She sent another look towards the three DA leaders, hoping she hadn't spoken too out of turn. They seemed as inscrutable as ever, though none of them were glaring at her, or vaporizing her, or turning her into a plate of cookies. She took that as a tacit approval, but didn't want to push her luck. These people lack any semblance of covert organization, she sent to Laurelai, hoping to distract the woman from what seemed like dark, worried thoughts. Remind me how this guild is still in operation? At least the Ghostbloods seem to understand the gravity of this situation. They'd kept those photos a secret for at least a little while, though if what Eiran said was true, very little escaped the notice of PlasmaCore and this enigmatic Lord Ajax. It was lucky that they'd found a scientist with access to such crucial information on-site. More than lucky, really. The chances alone had to be astronomical. The easiest way to get a secret from someone is to give them exactly what they expect... Lita bit her lip, shooting another glance at Mac, and began moving her pen again. Sir, all this talk of misdirection has me on edge. Does it seem as though this PlasmaCore information has fallen into our lap a bit easier than it ought to? If they have a legion if invisible spren floating around this city, they have to know that someone has captured one of their researchers, and that the Ghostbloods, at the very least, have found these documents. We might be safe in here, but what if this information has already been compromised? We could easily be playing into their hands in the exact same way we are currently discussing. @Voidus @MacThorstenson

Of course they don't count!

Lita watched the man for a full minute, tin allowing her to hear every flutter of his heart, see the way his eyes widened slightly, pleading. She twirled her pen in a lazy way, directing the message to Mac, KanMien and Laurelai. He's either telling the truth, or he's the best liar I've ever seen. Quite a talent he has, if he isn't lying about that, too. It was remarkably difficult to fake the level of terror rolling off the man - she could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, smell it on his skin, and he showed few of the more common tells of someone attempting to lie. Accelerated heart rate was a predictable one, though with all the stress of the day, Lita disregarded it. No, the main feeling Lita could pick up from the TUBA member was desperation, not duplicity. In any case, if he really was Lord Ajax, he was certainly wasting a lot of time talking, instead of killing them all. "Well," she said finally, leaning forward to slide the newly-manifested plate of cookies across the table and grabbing one, "let us hope you're right, for the city's sake." She bit into the cookie, once again marveling at the perfect balance of flavors. By the Survivor's spear, I have got to get my hands on this recipe.

Lita stared, dumbfounded, at the TUBA member, feeling her shock slowly curdle into fear, then anger. “Surely,” she said quietly, upping the burn of her tin unconsciously, staring at the man blowing the steam off his tea, “surely you can’t have been stupid enough to call a meeting of the leadership of this city’s three most powerful guilds, let us discus what might be our best and only chance to mitigate unbelievable ruin, and then disclose that there could be an invisible spying force in here right now?” Her voice had lowered into a cold, furious whisper. Lita stepped towards the man, focusing on his breathing, his heartbeat, the color of his skin, the minute dilations of his pupils. The lack of subtlety, of skill, of any kind of forethought of espionage, was almost more distressing than the terror of being discovered and killed by their enemy. These people, she thought, sniffing contemptuously. If this is what amounts to their knowledge of spycraft, it’s a complete mystery how they haven’t been murdered down to the last baker already. ”If I were this Lord Ajax, I would indeed be quite keen to spy on my enemies. And if what you say is true, and he can take whatever form he wishes, then this is precisely the place I would think to look for him.” Lita smiled at Eiran, all teeth. “I think you’d find it very wise to tell us everything else you might know about these spren, lest we start to ask you some more pointed questions.” @Silva

Hail and welcome! We’re glad to have you here!

Lita stared at the pictures of the letters the Ghostbloods had found. These were far more interesting than their picture of the Vortex. She had no idea what to do about that thing, but she did know how to tease a secret out of someone. When the Ghostblood leader looked at her and Laurelai, Lita wondered what, exactly, he expected of her. Still, she took his tired glance as allowance to speak. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think an alliance is the best idea,” she said, pleased that her voice didn’t shake. “Or, well, I don’t think the appearance of an alliance is the best idea.” She stepped forward, pointing to the images of the correspondence. “The point of the party two days ago was to ally with one of us, then turn the Guilds against themselves. PlasmaCore wanted a Guild War - they wanted us to do their work for them. So, perhaps we give them what they want - in appearance at least.” Lita chewed her lip, mind turning, still worried about Laurelai, worried that Voidus might decide to kill them all, worried that she was speaking wildly out of turn. But the time for self-doubt was over. “The easiest way to get a secret from someone is to give them exactly what they expect,” she said. “If we suddenly band together, who knows what PlasmaCore will unleash on this city? If we make them think their plan is still going forward, then we can predict their moves. Make them look where we want them to look,” Lita smiled a tiny smile, “instead of where we really are.”

“You should go lay down,” Nerin said, listening as Brillin stumbled over his words, lost in his own sorrow. It was a bit cruel to toy with someone as kind as he was. More than a bit. Nerin glanced at Attayl, who had started staring at nothing, feeling another tiny drop of guilt. She sighed, then finished her tea and stood, teetering slightly. “I hate to ask this of you Attayl, but I’m not quite sure I can guide our gentleman adventurer here up the stairs without breaking both our necks. Perhaps you could...?” She waved a hand at Brillin and Soothed some of Attayl’s reserve. Go on then, she thought. “There should be a spare room upstairs.” Brillin was kind. Attayl was kind, too, under all her terror and sorrow. The memory of dancing with Attayl’s boss the previous night floated back into her mind. ”She’s sweet,” Nerin had said. “And sweet people are so easy to control.” Nerin sat heavily, suddenly overcome by a wave of exhaustion. Perhaps Lance was right, perhaps she should sleep... “I’ll just be here,” she said quietly, eyelids fluttering. “I’ll be fine, I’ll be just...fine.” @Sorana @I think I am here.

Nerin set Brillin’s glass back on the table and nudged it back toward him, noting the shock on his face. She directed a Soothing at him, making him feel less uncomfortable, less unsure. His surprise at her remark struck Nerin as terribly sad. It was markedly obvious that he had beautiful eyes - well beyond the scope of a typical human’s shade of blue. “Well,” Nerin said, sipping at her own tea, “perhaps they were too busy staring at them to say anything.” Her mind felt raw and ragged; there was much that she was holding behind the walls of the Beautiful Room, much that would eventually come forth. For now, it was enough to feel as though this one sliver of interaction was under her control.

Nerin looked over at Attayl when she sat down, sipping her tea and returning a small shadow of the girl’s smile. ”Thank you,” Nerin said, eying Brillin’s mostly-full glass of whiskey. She hooked one finger against the inside of the rim and dragged it across the table, lifting it to her mouth and sipping slowly. “You didn’t have to do all this cleaning, you know. This isn’t your parlor it’s J-“ Nerin took another sip. “It’s...mine.” Rusts, how would that work? Don’t think about that now. @Sorana

@Invocation

“Everything is fine, nothing is happening.” Mac’s measured whisper sliced through Lita’s growing panic, and even before she could glance at him, the darkness at the corner of her eye dissipated like it was never there. Lita risked a full glance at Laurelai, who looked very pale, even paler than usual, her light blonde hair curving down over one ear. Lita twirled her pen, sending the woman a message while turning back to the hologram and pretending to pay attention. What was that about? Are you alright? @Voidus

Nerin looked at Brillin again, then Attayl, then simply stood and walked up the stairs to her room. She wiped the blood off her shins and the bottoms of her feet, then sat down quietly at her vanity and stared blankly into the cracked mirror. With rote efficiency, Nerin unpinned her hair, setting the pin daggers on the vanity top, and picked up her brush. She pulled the bristles through her hair, working at the knots as the girls had taught her, spinning the curling ends around her fingers as she went. The long dark brown strands framed her slender face, giving her a pale, drowned look. For once, Nerin left her hair down, sliding a pot of rouge out of a drawer and tapping some onto her lips. She pulled a piece of kohl across her upper lash line, working it into her lashes until they, too, were thick and black. She stood, the whiskey and the shock of the day giving her room an odd dreamlike quality. Nerin slid the dress Attayl had picked our earlier off the bed and stepped into it, buttoning it up. It was one of her better dresses, cut in a newer style with a dipping neckline and no sleeves. The deep blue fabric echoed her mood, and she gave herself on last look in the mirror before sliding her dagger pins off the vanity and into a pocket, then stepping back downstairs. She wandered towards Attayl and Brillin, sitting quietly across from the drunken man and setting her chin in her hand, looking at him. ”Your eyes are so blue,” she said on impulse. “Did you know that?” @I think I am here.

Sleep - how could Nerin sleep? Still, Lance seemed insistent, and there was a sensible whisper of her mind that was still afraid of him. She should at least get back inside, check on the others. Nerin nodded, stepping sideways out of Lance’s grip. He let her go, and she turned, moving back through the parlor, surprised to find much of the chaos had, indeed, been dealt with. Attayl stood in the main room, along with Brillin, who was surprisingly lucid, though still deeply drunk. She was still burning brass, Soothing the room indiscriminately of worry, fear, sorrow, pain. Just another job, just another day in the parlor. She could do that. ”You cleaned all this?” Nerin asked Attayl, gesturing to the room. Her eyes strayed traitorously close to the kitchen before flicking away. “Even...even...” She faltered, her voice going quiet, and she’s crossed her arms as she suddenly realized how little she was wearing. Her legs were still streaked with blood. A wave of slight dizziness passed over her, and she leaned up against the wall next to Brillin. Nerin looked up at him. “Will this be making it into your book, then?” She murmured. @I think I am here. @Sorana

Nerin started slightly at the touch of Lance's hand on her bare shoulder, tips of his fingers pressing against her skin with a firm insistence. Her eyes flicked downward, tracing the line of his wrist up his forearm, across his shoulder and to the hollow where his collarbone met his neck. She could see each bead of water shimmer against his skin from where he'd been washing; a single droplet traced a cool line down her arm where Lance's thumb met her shoulder. She shivered, feeling all the hair on her body rise at once, and met his eyes. They were slightly obscured by the tinted glass of his mask. Nerin drew in a breath, too tipsy to blush, and began absent-mindedly Soothing him. "Someone has to take care of things," she said, voice almost a whisper. "There's so much..." Blood. So many corpses. Jeb. Nerin blinked, biting her lip. "So much to do."

Nerin stepped back a bit. Was that Lance? One hand curled around the edge of the stall, and she very nearly peered around the panel before turning and pressing her back to the wood instead. "It's no trouble," she called back. The world fuzzed before her, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. "Your coat, it's still up in my room." The sound of water pattering on stone echoed through the wood. Nerin squeezed her eyes shut, which was a mistake, and she nearly teetered to the side again. She righted herself, leaning against the stall. "I'll go get it."

Nerin stopped her polishing, noticing John sitting down. Her eyes flicked towards the bucket, now nearly-empty, and she sighed a small sigh. She walked over, treading quietly through a pool of pinkish suds, and picked up the bucket. Her vision swam, that second glass of whiskey starting to take effect, and she walked to the back of the parlor, out the back door to where the water pump stood. She worked the lever, watching as cold, clear water filled the nearly-empty bucket, until the world tipped a little too far to one side and she staggered, losing her footing and sitting down hard in the dirt. From her vantage point on the ground, she saw a pair of shoes standing in the bathing stall. They seemed familiar, though she couldn't quite place them. The alcohol had dulled a fair bit of her resolve, and the walls of the Beautiful Room around her wavered, suddenly malleable. Nerin stood slowly, walking towards the stall and knocking on the wood. She knew she should be afraid, but that knowledge was beyond the walls at the moment. "Hello?" Neirn said quietly, her voice soft, blunted at the edges. @Invocation

Lita turned away from the Ghostblood leader and his holographic image when Voidus, Mac, and the Stranger stepped fully into the diner. All three seemed strangely shaken - though what could possibly rattle all three of them, Lita had no idea. She pushed her tin back to a near-flare, listening for heartbeats. Unnervingly, the DA woman in the back had no heartbeat. Lita tried not to think too hard about that, listening instead to the other three. Two began to calm as they settled in to listen, but a third sped up again - hard. What? Lita looked at them out of the corner of her eye, following their gazes. Mac was fixated on the hologram, asking pointed questions. His breathing was coming even, now. Not him, then. It was impossible to tell what the Stranger was looking at, though he, too, seemed to relax. Her gaze moved to Voidus, watching a vein in his throat pulse hard and rapid beneath his pale skin. Found you, she thought, listening to her own heart begin beating faster too. This was risky - not quite as risky as eavesdropping back in Alley 0, but risky nonetheless. Voidus's mouth twitched as he looked their way; Lita tried to follow his line of sight without moving her head. Rusts, what are you staring at? His light eyes pierced a spot over her shoulder, pupils dilating slightly. Lita looked next to her, only spotting Laurelai, who was staring back over Lita's shoulder with poorly-concealed terror. What in the name of the Survivor was going on here? Lita looked back at Voidus, muscles in her eyes aching from all the strain on her peripheral vision. An odd darkening shuddered around one of his hands, and the Coin in her palm started to burn hot again. She squeezed it in her hand, wondering when her brassmind would melt off her arm from all the heat she was storing. Her thumb brushed the raised faces - even hidden in her hand, Lita could tell that at least one side showed the sun, and the other, the scales? Odd pairing for a time like this, Lita thought, worried. Had Laurelai angered Voidus in some way? Was he about to kill the lot of them in some kind of guilt-by-association execution? Her other hand shook slightly, and she squeezed the Coin again, willing it to do...what? Protect her? I can transport back into an Alley, she thought wildly. Maybe I could take Laurelai too? Did it work that way? How much trouble would she be in for abandoning a mission? The darkness around Voidus's hand continued to deepen, and she cast one true, frightened look at the Stranger, willing him to notice. But what did he care? Maybe he'd find it enjoyable to watch his old friend obliterate this place. After all, it was full of enemies. Rust, rust, rusting hell. She looked at Mac next. Mac wouldn't want Laurelai dead, would he? How was no one else noticing this?

I am out of reputation but I just want you to know, I upvote this.

Nerin stared at her palms, which were red and flaking with dried blood. Something hot hovered at the edges of her eyes - she blinked it away, pulling the walls of the Beautiful Room closer into herself. She took a deep breath. "I'm...fine," she said slowly, rising from the bed and walking over to her vanity. Nerin washed her hands in the water basin, watching the water turn from clear to pink. She turned to Attayl, who was holding one of her dresses in her hands. It was a deep blue, almost black. Fitting. Nerin nodded at her, then she shucked off Lance's mistcoat and began undoing the buttons on her shirt. Her skirt came next, falling heavily onto the ground, weighted down with blood. Her knees were stained too, legs covered in scarlet streaks. Scarlet. The Beautiful Room flickered for a moment. Blood on the floor, a word scrawled beside a ruined corpse. Nerin squeezed her eyes shut, hand shaking. Nothing can harm you inside the Beautiful Room. She opened her eyes, then removed her boots, turning to face Attayl in nothing but her shift. "You can borrow anything you need," she said, voice light, hollow. She started burning brass, Soothing Attayl's anxiety, her fear, her sorrow. "Get cleaned up, sleep. Whatever you need. Someone needs to -" Nerin blinked once, swallowing hard, "to clean up, downstairs." She turned on one bare heel, then walked out the door and down the stairs. The morning air set her bare skin prickling, though she barely felt it. She brushed past John, who stood wide-eyed on the landing, and stepped lightly over one of the dead thugs that lay in the main parlor. Brillin sat at the table, slumped and drunk. Quietly, Nerin picked up his glass from the floor, went behind the bar, and refilled it. She set it down next to Brillin, then went and filled a glass of her own. Whiskey, deep and dark. She knocked the entire thing back, coughing once at the hot, searing sting in the back of her throat, then began to quietly, methodically, polish the bartop. Her eyes flicked over the parlor, amber and distant. They never touched the kitchen door. Nerin poured herself another drink.

Lita spun as the TUBA member walked towards the door, clenching her fist around the Coin instinctively and letting the spike up her sleeve drop into her other hand. She heard his breath quicken, his heart beat faster. This is it, she thought, bringing her tin back to a near-flare and storing as much heat as she could. Then, the warmth in her hand sort of...changed. It dimmed a bit, almost pulsing. The feeling was familiar, more akin to how it had behaved back in Alley 0... Oh, great. Lita peered over the TUBAist's shoulder and out the door, feeling her stomach flip over once. Three familiar silhouettes stood outside the restaurant, accompanied by a few unfamiliar ones. Someone slipped in through the door, a woman she didn't know, and sat quietly looking at the ceiling. Another Dark Alley member? Lita wondered, chewing her lip. She slid the spike back up her sleeve and lowered her tin slightly, distracted from her fear of the three DA leaders by the appearance of another somewhat-recognizable man. He carried himself with the haughty, brusque efficiency of someone who was used to being listened to, appeased, and obeyed. Another guild head? And where had she seen him before? He began speaking, quickly outing himself as a Ghostblood, and set some kind of flat device down on the table. “Due to the recent incursion into PlasmaCore territory, the Ghostbloods have been able to recover information about PlasmaCore,” he said. “If we really want to take PlasmaCore down, we need to be transparent, and starts with this images.” Lita stared at the image with both fascination and terror. So, here was the answer to all the questions: this thing, violet and pulsing, had been in the same building where she'd been drinking and talking just two days ago? The thought made her flesh crawl, and her mind whir. "There's no way they built this in the last 48 hours," Lita said quietly mouth moving before she could stop herself, "so why did they court us for a partnership?" She paused, realizing too late that she'd spoken aloud, and pressed her mouth into a line. Hell. @I think I am here. @AonEne @Silva @MacThorstenson @everyone else