ZincAboutIt
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Lita was about to request another cup of coffee when she felt an odd sensation against her right ankle, almost an...itching? I wonder... she thought, halting her brass storage to check the Coin. She nearly bit her tongue in half as a bright circle of fire lanced against her anklebone, and she immediately began storing some heat again, swallowing a whimper. Something dangerous out there, Lita sent to Laurelai and KanMien. And close, too. I'm surprised my whole rusting shoe isn't on fire. Lita raised her right leg as casually as she could, pretending to adjust her sock as she slipped the Coin into her palm. That'll leave a scar, she thought, then blinked, mind whirring. She smiled a bit, tapping a small sip of gold, and felt the pain in her ankle vanish. I could get used to that, she thought, keeping the Coin in the hollow of her palm, facing away from the TUBA member. The less he knew about that, the better. @Voidus
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He's holding something back, Lita sent to Laurelai and KanMien. Unsurprising, but irritating. Must be quite worrisome, his pupils are quite dilated, heartbeat sped up after he mentioned the 'other stuff.' "We've been monitoring the city," Lita said aloud. "Getting reports from a few in the field. I'm sure we don't need to tell you it's quite a warzone out there." She tipped her head back, draining the rest of her coffee and Tin, then setting the cup down on the nearby counter. "How much of the city has been evacuated into the tunnels already?" @Voidus @kenod
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I agree, Lita signed back, resisting the urge to nod. There was little point in a secret communique if she gave away the game with physical reaction. She continued sipping her coffee, feeling her Tin reserve grow. Lita scaled back a bit on the level of her burn, and as she did so her anxiety rushed in to take the place formerly occupied by sound and light and temperature. She heard her heartbeat quicken, adrenaline and caffeine racing through her body, setting it on edge. Lita considered pulling the Coin out of her boot, nearly overcome by the urge to flip it, to just look at it. Pull yourself together, she told herself, stuffing her free hand in her pocket to avoid fidgeting. Her fixation with the Coin troubled her - she'd only had it a few days, and already it occupied much of her thought. She knew herself well enough to know she was latching onto something that seemed real and powerful, something that represented a kind of polestar in her life. A direction. She had done much the same with Forian when she'd first met him, drawn to his power like metal to a Lurcher. He had claimed her, used her to give himself even more power, and she had loved him for it. These people would use her too, in their own way. It was the price demanded - a price she would pay, sure enough. Still, she wondered. How much of her would be left on the threshing floor when all was said and done? Would she even know herself, or would the woman in the mirror become someone else entirely, a bent reflection? And would it be such a pity? The little voice whispered. How much of Lita is worth keeping? All that fear. All that weakness. Mac's earlier words about limits, about preserving one's humanity, replayed in her mind, and she chewed her lip in pensive irritation. He wanted to keep his soul as intact as one could, in his position. Wanted to hold out for his place in paradise - for that elusive shine. Well, he could have it. Lita had already been turned away from one paradise. There was no point in polishing ones metal, forever staving off the rust. Lita fingered the point of the spike in her pocket, mouth drawing unconsciously into a tiny, cold smile. No, there was no point in polishing. She would keep her metal in blood.
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Nerin surfaced slowly from the depths of sleep, her eyelids heavy. She rose up onto one arm, looking around. Her bed? What was she doing... Her hand brushed something heavy and soft, and she looked down. Lance's mistcoat curved around her shoulders, tassels trailing down over the sheet. The toe of one of her boots peeked out, stained a dark red. Nerin pulled the covers back, staring at the streaks of blood on the mattress, her skirt completely soaked with red. Instantly, her mind shied back from the memories that threatened to break through the walls she had built around herself. Nerin blinked, turning to look at the door. Attayl stood there in the doorway, still caked in blood herself. "Are..." Nerin began, focusing on the immediate. She swallowed, tried again. "Are you alright?" @Sorana
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Lita accepted her coffee, dropping one spoonful of sugar into the black liquid and giving it a stir before bringing the cup to her mouth. She immediately began storing heat in her brassminds; with her tin on so high, even warm coffee would likely feel hot to her. Lita took a tentative sip, adjusted her storing rate slightly, then took a larger drink. Tin let her catch the slight unease in Laurelai's expression. Lita didn't blame her. Very soon, her own nerves would begin to catch up with her, but for now they were drowned out by the total sensory overload of her surroundings. She wrinkled her nose in irritation, then dipped her hand into her pocket and brought out her second vial of tin, flicking the cork off and pouring the shavings and liquid within into her coffee cup. She gave it another little stir with the spoon, then continued drinking. The warmth of the drink twinned pleasantly with the familiar burn of Allomancy within her. This is necessary, she thought forcefully, sipping the coffee and savoring the bitterness. "Good coffee," she remarked to the TUBA member, blowing the steam across the cup and into the air, her enhanced vision allowing her to see every tendril bend and swirl. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Laurelai sending an Alleycant message, eyes moving slowly across the room. Lita pulled her own pen into her hand, sending Laurelai and KanMien a message of her own. When their leader arrives, she'll likely be smart enough to ask for our names. Shall we be truthful, or will we be donning aliases? @Voidus @kenod
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Oh I know what this is.
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What is this?
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Lita waited at the door when the TUBA member entered, ears straining for any traps. He seemed to have disabled something, though there could be any number of other security measures in a place like this. She finally stepped through, figuring that he likely wasn't stupid enough to pull some kind of double-cross with the city in such a tenuous position, and their two guilds in an even-more-fragile truce. "Well," he said, finally addressing them since they'd arrived. "Deteca should be here shortly. Do you want anything in the meanwhile? Chocolate chip cookies? Fortune cookies? Sugar cookies? Sprinkle cookies?" Ah, Deteca, that's it, Lita thought, smiling slightly and filing away that bit of information. Her smile widened into a little grin as she recalled her earlier decision to snag two cookies from Laurelai's rooms. She pulled one out of her pocket. "Actually, I brought my own breakfast," she said, taking a bite and trying not to let the flavors distract her attention. Eating with tin was amazing, but it had a way of clouding the other senses. "Though I could do with a coffee, if you've got any." That was a lie, she was burning enough tin to keep herself awake for hours yet. Still, it was dawn, and it was the end of the world. Coffee seemed appropriate. She turned to KanMien and Laurelai, pulling the second cookie out of her pocket and offering it to either of them with a silent gesture. @Silva @kenod @Voidus
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Nerin felt herself lifted off the floor, the two sides of her mind meshing for a moment as Lance cradled her in his arms. He felt strong, solid. Nerin heard the creak of stairs, his resolute breathing against her ear, the steady, implacable beating of his heart. As he laid her in a bed, a small corner of her mind rebelled at the idea of her filthy, blood-soaked shoes and skirt tucked into her sheets. But such thoughts were far too close to reality, and reality meant pain - a wide and terrible sea of horror. She shied away from it, retreating further and further into the Beautiful Room until the light had faded, sound had faded. Even the soft weight of Lance's mistcoat dissolved around her, and Nerin slept.
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Lance was speaking. She heard it dimly, as though he were in another room. "Are you okay, Nerin?" Jeb’s body was pale beneath all the red, his chest and torso a mess of lacerations and deep punctures. His shirt hung open and tattered, clinging to his body and to the floor, soaked and crimson. Someone had closed his eyes, but the deep lines in his face, the strained curve of his spine, told Nerin that it had been no gentle death. Someone had taken their time, making it slow. Intimate. "I..." She began, her vision narrowing to a small point. "He..." The word on the floor next to him told her all she needed to know. Traitor. In a sudden compulsion, Nerin scrambled toward the word, trying to wipe away the letters scrawled in blood. But it had already seeped into the floorboards, stained and flaking like rust. Something hot spilled down her cheeks, the tears making it hard to see. Her hands shook as she took the edge of her skirt, scrubbing at the floor. It was of no use. Nerin slumped to the floor, her eyes like startled birds, unable to find somewhere safe to rest. It was her fault, all her fault. Her idea to pay the Farriers. Her idea to leave the parlor. Too much... "Remember what I told you, my little one?" The memory surfaced through the pain, a rock in the ocean. Nerin clung to it. "What do we do when we are afraid?" "We build the Beautiful Room," Nerin said. She clung to her mother's skirt, watching her reflection in the cracked mirror. The bedroom was awash in pink light; the scent of perfume nearly covered the reek of old bed linen. "That's right." Her mother's smile was beautiful and sad beneath her rouge and lipstick, eyes darting towards the hallway where someone waited. "Inside the Beautiful Room, there is nothing that can harm you." "Everything is soft, and clean, and good," Nerin recited, hoping to please her mother in the way that only a child can hope. "Nothing is cruel, or ugly." "That's right," her mother repeated, kissing her on the forehead. She spun Nerin around, pushing her into the wardrobe. "Now you be a good girl while Mummy talks to her friend, and play in the Beautiful Room." On the floor, Nerin began to build the Room around her. The walls became soft and covered in colored paper, the blood-soaked wood beneath her a lavish carpet. Morning's light, so cruel and unrelenting, dimmed before her. There was nothing now, nothing but quiet. Nothing at all. @Invocation
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Nerin limped the last block of the street, head throbbing, ankle a spike of bright pain. She gritted her teeth, willing herself to go faster. Faster. No more sounds came from the parlor - somehow, that made it all the more ominous as she tripped up the stairs and in through the front door. Corpses littered the floor, one covered in marks like tiny teeth. "What in Harmony's name..." Nerin whispered, then spotted Attayl and Brillin at the small table. Attayl was covered in blood, it caked her face and arms, soaked into her dress, though she seemed well enough. Brillin looked deep into his cups, slumped over the tabletop. Nerin looked around, counting the others. Everyone was alive, everyone was... Her eyes flicked towards the kitchen door. A slice of light filtered out, illuminating something red on the floor near the doorframe. A footprint? In blood? "No," she whispered, voice barely audible. No. Horror pulled Nerin across the room. She pushed the door open and rushed into the kitchen, then stumbled to a halt as her ankle protested. The floorboards were sticky beneath her boots, and the air was close and thick with the hot, coppery scent of blood. So much blood. It coated the planking like whitewash, the old wood drinking it in greedily, and there was still enough to collect in glistening pools. Light spilled in through the little window at the end of the room, illuminating something laying in the center of the floor. The air around it shimmered oddly, as though hot. A vague blur hovered at the edges. No, no. Nerin felt a small cry wrench itself from her throat and she darted forward, feet slick against the floor. She passed through the distortion and felt the world lurch around her, sending her stumbling. The figure of Lance materialized next to her. A speed bubble. Lance kneeled on the floor, face stricken with grief and anger. Nerin spared him a moment’s glance before turning towards the man on the floor. Someone screamed then, and it wasn’t until Nerin was already on her knees, crawling through the blood, that she realized it had been her own voice. @Invocation
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Lita followed Laurelai and the TUBA member, motioning to KanMien to follow as well, though they likely needed no invitation. She wasn't sure how to feel about the kandra - finding out that they were even real was a shock when she first got to the Alleycity, let along actually interacting with one. No stranger than the rest of the last few days, she thought, stepping up beside Laurelai. "That was a fine trick," Lita said under her breath. "According to his superior, we're going someplace called 'Digeridoo.' A tavern of some sort, then?" She kept her tin up, alert for any sign of trouble, and maintained her grip on her spike, though she had tucked it mostly up her sleeve and out of sight. "I'll admit, I could use a bit of a drink." @Voidus
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Nerin ran, bag thumping against her hip, her breath coming hard and ragged. The parlor was half a block away - she could hear shouting, something breaking. Harmony, please, she prayed. Please, no. The ground dipped sharply beneath her right foot, and there was a terrible dagger of pain in her ankle. Nerin screamed, feeling her foot twist, and she tumbled forward. Her head hit the ground, her vision blurred. Everything became a whirl of light and sound around her. Harmony, please, no.
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Lita heard the creature approaching from around the corner as the man began counting down. All her witty remarks flew out the window when she looked down the street and saw it coming towards them. ”Oh hell,” she hissed, feeling the Coin grow hot against her ankle. It’s presence reassured her slightly, though fear still knotted her stomach. She drew the long spike out of her coat pocket and held it tightly in her hand. She looked at Laurelai and KanMien, then the TUBA member. Here we go.
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Lita glanced sidelong at KanMien and tried not to laugh at the mental image of the man’s face should she actually do it. “Good idea,” she whispered. The kandra likely had some augmented hearing of their own. Curiosity gripped her when the man mentioned her old boarding house was a historical site, but she stuffed it downwards. With a roll of her eyes, Lita darted forward and snatched the phone from the man’s hand. She danced backwards a bit, speaking into the microphone. ”Hello,” she said softly. Pleasantly, but with an edge of ice. “I recognize your voice from the meeting between our guilds earlier. You don’t trust me - that’s fine. Smart, really. I don’t trust you either. But we have some information that you’ll want to hear, and we won’t be giving it to some underling that can barely look at our shoes without fainting. If you are who I think you are, you’ve seen some things - enough to know that if we wanted to kill you, we’d already be dancing on your corpse. Believe it or not, my colleagues and I have no interest in watching this city tear itself to pieces. We have news that you need, and you need it now. Cartwright’s Boarding House. Try to hurry.” She handed the phone back to the TUBAist and smiled again. “You know what they say,” she shrugged apologetically. “If you want something done right...” @AonEne @Silva
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Lita listened to the TUBA member chatter hurriedly to his superior, tin letting her easily pick up the woman’s voice on the other end. Terrifying? Lita almost laughed. She was a twenty-four year old Tineye with some brass Feruchemy, only three days into the DA and just barely able to Alleytravel without killing herself. She’d almost certainly been even more terrified of her own guild over the last forty-eight hours than this fellow was. Perception is an odd thing. Well, might as well cash in on her new-found gravitas, deserved or no. ”Tell her we’re just outside Cartwright’s Boarding House,” Lita said to the TUBAist, smirking just a bit. She winked. “And tell her we don’t have much time for games.” @Silva
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Lita could hear the man’s breath quicken, and she dropped her smile. Probably still look a little too wild, she thought. Backing off the tin a bit had brought her back from the edge of cold impersonality, and she felt a little bad for the man. She arranged her features into her typical calm, non-threatening expression: mild curiosity. Attentive. Polite. ”Ah, hierarchy,” she said, nodding her head. “Thank you.” Lita continued watching the street for any immediate danger, ears tuned to the sounds behind and to the sides of them. It wouldn’t do to get murdered in the middle of all this fine diplomacy, now would it?
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Making this a public forum discussion makes me feel awkward, especially since I was specifically pinged as someone who had some less-than-great opinions of the last plot thread. The poll was also public in that everyone could see how everyone else voted. I guess this is how things are done but it’s pretty uncomfortable imo.
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While Laurelai spoke, Lita felt her hand stray automatically to one of her pockets. No. Definitely not. With a reluctance that frightened her, Lita moved her hand back down to her side and turned down the burn of her Tin. Right, you're a rusting spy. Do your job, you can go mad later. "I realize that 'trust' is a bit of a sticking point between our two guilds, but we've stuck to the end of our accord thus far." Lita met the man's eyes, hoping that she looked slightly less wild-eyed. "You do want to help these people, don't you? The fastest and most effective way to do that is to let us speak to your leadership." Lita smiled at him. "As of this moment, we're effectively on the same side. I suggest you take advantage of that. Now." @Silva
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Hey now, leave my well-planned, slow-burn corruption arc alone
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