Open A Stir of the Cauldron

[Ennisa]

1st Winter 519 AV
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"others"

"Hey, watch it!" Ennisa opened her eyes. An angry-looking man strode past her with a disgruntled harumph. Apparently, she was in the way. A lady trod on her toes, which elicited a surprised yelp from the confused, disorientated, dreaming woman. She spun around and tried to catch her bearings. The walls of the back alley loomed close. The narrow street was thronged with people of all colours and races, who were racing past on their own personal missions. Ennisa was buffeted this way and that as she tried to think where she might be.

It was no matter. She was quickly getting trampled by the crowds, and so to give herself some breathing space she pushed and shoved her way to the edge, where she could lean against the crumbling brick wall. Where am I? She puzzled. She watched the people for a while as if trying to find a familiar face, but she could see no-one she recognised. The thin street curved upwards as if built onto a hill, and it gradually veered off to the right. She looked up. The sky was almost obscured by washing hanging from long lines spanning from one side to the other. The clothes flapped in the breeze, fabrics of many colours and textures. Occasionally she caught glimpse of the sky, which was dotted with picture-perfect clouds. Something about the sky seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it.

Nevertheless, she knew it was important to keep moving. The people on the street were almost dragging her as each passer-by knocked her from her precarious resting position, so she let herself be carried along by the flow of traffic. As she walked, she looked around. Strangely, the street never really seemed to change, no matter how much she moved. It kept slanting to the right, and kept rising up the gradual incline. The people didn't change either; they were still grumpy and self-absorbed.

Ennisa wondered what on Miza was going on, but she didn't have to wonder long before something changed. She almost missed it. On the left was a rapidly approaching split from the path. It was a corridor even slimmer than the street she was on now, and it was wreathed in shadow and darkness. Ennisa knew there was an inherent danger in splitting from the bright, busy street, but at the same time the peace of solitude seemed a good pay-off.

She navigated and pushed her way through the crowds until she reached the entrance to the alleyway. When she finally pushed her way past the last few people (eliciting shouts of, "Hey!" and, "Watch where you're going!"), she stumbled into the alley to be plunged into blissful quietude.

Ennisa took a deep breath and let it out through her nose. Then from the shadows she spotted a hulking shape. She was interested, and she drifted further from the blurred, bright shapes passing in the street outside to go deeper into the alley. "What's this then?" She murmured to herself. As she got nearer, the shape clarified into the form of a squat cauldron.

The shape was bitingly familiar, but for the life of her, she couldn't place it. Ennisa narrowed her eyes but the cauldron had an inexplicable draw to it, and she looked over the iron lip to see inside the pot. The cauldron was full of a liquid that looked like water. Or rather, like syrup... or not? She looked again. Each time, the contents of the cauldron seemed to shift subtly. Whether it was a trick of the low light levels or her own eyes, she couldn't tell.

[Ennisa]

"speech"
"others"

She left the cauldron alone for a moment and looked around the rest of the alley. It was a dark place. The buildings on each side leant over to obscure the sky. It seemed to be night-time. Deeper in, the light faded until she could see nothing but blackness. Yet as she looked closer, there were small shapes lying on the lumpy slates that lined the edges of the street. She crouched on the dusty floor and picked the first one up.

To her surprise it was her dagger. She looked at the dull iron blade and ran her finger along the sharp edge thoughtfully. It was sharper than she remembered. Blood welled in the cut. She wiped her thumb on her trousers and shuffled a little further into the darkness. She spotted another shape. Ennisa brushed aside the debris that coated the item. The dust was caked on thick, so she assumed it was old, whatever it was. After a bit of polishing, she uncovered a small lantern. She was sat on the floor of the alley in almost pitch darkness, but as soon as she realised what she was holding, a small light flickered in to being within the panes.

Her eyes widened in delight. How strange! She added the lantern to her small collection and squinted further into the corridor. The air seemed thicker and warmer the further in she went. If she was to look back, the shifting forms of the figures in the street were blurred and ghostly, as if their colours had drained away. She didn't look back. This claustrophobic street fascinated her.

She looked down and noticed something which couldn't have been there before. Could it? Tucked innocently beside a scruffy wooden door was a small tin cup that looked as if it had been left there by a reveller, some age ago. She lifted the cup up and sniffed the liquid inside. The smell was strange but not unpleasant, and it looked all the world like water. She cautiously dipped a finger within the beaker and dabbed a droplet to her lips. When she probed it with her tongue, she screwed her face up, for it was salt water.

Ennisa looked further into the alley. From what she could see, it seemed to stretch into the distance forever, but about three feet from her current position she could see nothing but a wall of darkness. Her heart beat faster as she looked down the corridor. One part of her wanted to travel deeper within, but the other more sensible part argued against it. For a moment, she hovered on the verge of a decision, until she landed on the side of caution.

She turned around. The cauldron was about a foot or so away. She gathered her finds and walked closer to the iron pot. Something compelled her to place the items within its metal belly, and because this was a dream, she decided to do just that. The mysterious liquid swirled of its own accord as she carefully dropped her precious dagger in. Her thumb had not stopped bleeding, and a droplet of her own blood fell into the shimmering pool. Next came the cup of salt water, which went in cup and all. The gently glowing lantern followed with a soft sploosh as it sank below the reflective surface of the water.

She stopped and considered. Something was missing, she was sure of it. She looked around and kicked the floor as she searched for the whatever-it-was she needed. A sharp clang alerted her to the curved foot of the cauldron. She knelt on the cobbles and scrabbled underneath the pot-belly of the vessel until her fingers grasped upon a rough black stone that she had just accidentally kicked. It wasn't anything special, just a lump of stone like she might find anywhere in Lhavit, but there was something about it that seemed right. She stood and dusted herself down, and unceremoniously dropped the stone into the liquid, where it sank without a sound.

[Madeira Dusk]

The corridor was tight and narrow, disappearing into darkness before and behind her. Madeira stumbled along it, feeling her way by the knocking of her elbows and shoulders. Above her the sky was a thin ribbon of bright pastel blue.

In her arms the box she carried was wide and heavy. It cut into the joints of her boney fingers and made her skinny arms tremble, but she couldn't bring herself to put it down. Inside came the sound of shifting sand and hard metallic clinks as the objects inside rattled with her. This was the flotsam of her life, the bits and pieces she had accumulated while clawing her way to better things. She couldn't just abandon it.

But the way was so long, and her arms were so tired. When she finally heard the sounds of human voices she nearly wept. The narrow alley brightened by little by little, until she could see the rough walls she was bouncing off of, and the loose bricks and litter she was tripping on. And up ahead, outlined by the moving spectrum of people on the street behind her, was a familiar shape.

Miss Sky, the liar, was scrabbling in the dirt in front of of a large caldron that blocked Madeira's way. She stood, her pale blonde hair catching the weak filter of sunlight, and dropped a black stone it into the caldron's greedy mouth.

"And again, I find you in my way", Madeira snapped at the girl. The trial of carrying her past for so far did not make her kinder. "What are you doing here?"

But with the unshakable certainty of dreams she knew exactly why Sky was there, and why she was there. The cauldron roiled and bubbled as the last of the woman's items were added, and it looked hungry for more. Madeira clutched her box tighter.

She couldn't move forward dragging this baggage with her. And she had to ask herself why she would possibly want to. These things all belonged to the woman she used to be, didn't they?

Madeira knelt, and dropped the box into the dirt at her feet. Opening it, it was clear there was nothing that accounted for the apparent weight of it. Madeira could fit everything in her cupped hands.

The liquid in the cauldron changed the longer she looked at it, flickering between states and colours in a way that made her dizzy. Madeira picked one of the small items at random and rolled it between her fingers. It was a pretty silver ring set with a large, colour shifting moonstone.

"This is Emma's ring", Madeira spoke, compelled to explain herself. Or perhaps to give a eulogy for the things she was letting go of. "This was how I called my first servant to me." She threw it into the pot.

The next was a bottle of silvery powder that gave off a strange otherworldly glow. Not many people got to see the bodily remains of a Ethaefal. "I saw him die. He was ripped apart by the woman I hope to marry."

The next was a paper square filled with a yellowish powder. It was a sample of hallucinogenic drugs from Wind Reach, from her dealer in Lhavit. "Tansavi gave me this. It tastes a bit like home."

A pair of battered silver dice clacked together in her hands. "I won these from a sailor I travelled with on the Belipotent. He was a good bluffer, but I was better."

There was only one item left, a polished stone the size and shape of a chicken egg, perfectly clear but for a delicate tinge of blue. "People think I'm rich because I wear diamonds, but it's a lie. They don't know the jewels are all shit out by Jomi's chicken." She laughed, and threw the last item in. The caldron spit and boiled, and Madeira felt immeasurably lighter, like her feet no longer touched the ground.

[Ennisa]

"speech"
"others"

Ennisa's eyes rolled heavily as the pale Spiritist Madeira arrived on the scene. A pervasive feeling of annoyance wiggled under her fingernails. She scratched her fingertips as she fought the feeling. Yet this was not some passive annoyance that could be easily brushed away, but a maddening sensation that she couldn't stop dwelling on. She watched the woman depositing her things in the cauldron one by one, as she continuously scratched and picked at her fingers. Yet, despite this feeling, she was rooted to the spot and could do nothing as Madeira continued, oblivious to Ennisa's curling fists and manic eyes.

Why did she feel this way? Who could say. Ennisa certainly didn't understand it, but then in her dreams (much like in reality), she rarely deeply understood herself. All she knew was that Madeira frustrated her in a way that she thoroughly hated.

After a time spent stationary, Madeira finally finished her time in front of the cauldron. Ennisa looked around, and to her relief found she could move again. She strode forwards quickly to stand in front of the iron pot. Somehow she knew her presence was necessary. She looked within, and was astonished to find the watery insides rapidly draining, though she could see no obvious drainage hole. In front of her eyes, a small figure emerged.

Without thinking, she reached within the cauldron and withdrew the wriggling thing. It was a child - a child! - who looked so very like herself. She stood, slack-jawed, as the small, chubby baby began to cry. In an instant, his whole body began to glow. His pale skin luminesced, and Ennisa almost dropped the child in shock. She looked over to Madeira, her frustrations abruptly forgotten, looking to simply have someone else to share in the surprise.

As she turned her head, the world lurched. The baby's cries shrilled in her ear and seemed to fill every corner and crevice of the dark alleyway, as Ennisa's world started to move of its own accord. She stumbled as the alley began to pull her along, deeper into the darkness from where Madeira had emerged. She protested, tried to turn back to the bright street, but when she turned there was nothing but a mute, navy darkness. "Be quiet, baby!" Fear tinged her voice, but her words were torn from her by the sharp, cool wind that streamed around her. They were going faster and faster into the darkness. The baby cried all the more intensely, and the only light was the light emanating from the child's pale, pale skin.

As they travelled, the bland walls of the alleyway gradually transformed. Ennisa could only see patches - dark, brooding stonework with hulking, leering gargoyles that only made the baby scream more loudly. Bleached white sheets whipped her arms and face as they sped past. Several times blank, gaunt-eyed faces leered from broken windows, until Ennisa could take it no longer and joined the child in his incessant screaming. All she wanted was for the dream to end. Even if that meant returning to Madeira, she wouldn't mind. But the speeding street whizzed by until she and the baby were falling. She was weightless. THe feeling was, for a moment, pleasant. Then she saw a wall, approaching faster than anything she had ever seen before, and her stomach lurched with utter terror. The little boy's face went beetroot red, his scream boomed in her ears, and then...

... With a gasp, she awoke.

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira watched, taken by the absurdity that had its way in dreams. Sky had reached into the cauldron and pulled out a baby. The surprise in her eyes neatly mirrored Madeira's own expression when after a hellish labour her son was deposited screaming onto her chest. Except Moritz never glowed.

The angry, pulsing light filled the alley. Sky was frantically trying to shush the baby, rocking it in frightened, jerky movements. "Congratulations", Madeira smiled, her expression softening as the woman ran past, balancing on the edge of panic. "You're a mother now."

The two disappeared the way she had come, and distantly she heard them both screaming. But Madeira was light and floating, unattached, and they seemed to come from a long way away. She leaned over the cauldron and surfaced with her own gift- a bracelet. It was a pretty silver thing, with a charm that glinted cruelly in the light. It seemed to be missing something, though. It looked hollow.

Souls, whispered something in her mind, some deep part of herself stirring hungrily. It needs souls.

The bright light of the street beyond was calling her, dragging her forward. She clipped the bracelet around her wrist and admired it in the sunlight. The press of people going about their business swept her up and carried her along, but she wasn't among them, but floating atop them. She was a ship above the tide of humanity, steering as she would, letting them take her to where she wanted to go.

She woke laughing. And though she forgot the dream, she remembered it was good. She threw her arm over her eyes against the sunlight that peek through the curtains. On her wrist was a little silver bracelet.