Quest [Quarters] Rubbing out smears

[Fallon]

30th Winter 514 AV

Fallon squinted and looked down the flat of the kukri. She had been staring at it for a while now, holding it close to the face so she could look down the length of the blade. Her lips had all but pursed into a line, jaw tightening as she held that scrutinizing look and contemplated it for a moment. It was all about angle she reasoned as she gave it the smallest of tilts, the sharp edge catching a glow in the lantern light - humming with the smallest tilt of movement and then stilling. Closing an eye she peered at it, catching the long smudge along the cold iron and into the groove, waxing the darkened shades of steel. She would put an end to that. Free hand fumbling about, she picked at her coat sleeve, a wetting of the edge upon her tongue before she raised it. From there she simply rubbed it along the flat, the fingers slowly rotating round in an attempt to lift the mark that stained it.

This was the way Fallon spent most of her evenings and nights in Sahova. Alone and quiet, dressed down and out of her equipment but ready to apply it if need be. Gently working and maintaining the few possessions that she had brought with her to the citadel, personal comforts that gave her some semblance of peace of mind - though it did a poor job most of the time. And so her tired mind set itself tasks to distract itself from the supposed ever watching, ever encroaching eyes and ears that rested within its bowels.

Lifting her sleeve she gave it another peering look, her eyes coming down into narrows as she inspected it once more. Still there, but fainter this time, it would require more work it seemed. So, the process was repeated again, firmer this time as her fingers worked past the double fullers and dipping into them. As she worked the low humming rose up from her throat, that mournful tune echoing out once more in her closet of a room, the lips parting from their tightness into that whistle. The sleeve was lifted again, her focus relaxing as she saw the smear was lifted and a flicker of simple pleasures resounded within. For that was it was, a simple action as she went back to her inspection.

Her memories gave their flickering, fingers shifting as she found her grip upon it once more around the hilt. Bare skin, the faintest sticking of leather. It was beginning to wear out, the once smoothness starting to fray and crack from age - it was a shame, and silently she promised herself to give it some treatment once she was off the island. One of her nails gave a scratch at the surface, feeling the smallest indents and scrapes that it had gained from years of use. And in response she only frowned at it, expression falling into disappointment.

"On this bloody island that you made me swear never go to for a third time now. I never did listen to you, did I Aleric?" She sighed, the lilt freely flowing, taking up her coat and throwing it across her lap, her fingers curling around the material and then relaxing, "Petching good in that regard, guess I couldn't ever help myself with my curiosities. Don't worry," She gave it a tilt, and slid it onto the sheath attached to her belt, "It'll probably bite me in the arse one day. You were always right about that."

[Ink]

Scritch. Some would say Sahova was the city that never slept but residents had come to know the truth it was the city that never woke. The monster of a mage citadel coiled in its den on a barren island, all the known world lay under its gaze to the west. Yet the beast never stirred to its full destructive power. Wind screamed through the barren trees in the courtyard, and then came another demure scritch, but there were no window panes for the branches to score.

The breeze was only a vague reprieve from the humid sticky climate of Sahova. Even that brought upon the thought of the wet hot breath of a dog; fang’s bared. What it must be to live as a Pulser on this island where time had no purchase. Scritch. The door to Fallon’s quarter sprang open.

A petite golem, tarnished metal wheels bumped over the stone floor. It made a metallic grinding sound at her. It didn’t know how to fear let alone show it in the face of Fallon’s weapon. In the little basket on its back was a single scroll, sealed in navy wax. When the little fetcher was done with its job, the golem rolled back away, leaving the door open as it left.

The letter was a curiosity in itself. Everyone who was on Sahova who had a vested interest in Fallon had already made themselves clear. This was on another plane entirely, because when the seal was cracked absolutely nothing was clear. Beneath the waxy seal sat a token, detached from the scroll it fell free.

Nightmares are still Dreams.
Do you talk in your sleep?

Lab 43X

The token was bronze with a glyph inscribed. This glyph held no magic but even to the most inexperianced mage a glyph had inherent meaning. The sentiment was an invitation, but the complexities of language were lost on the uneducated; sinister or benign?

[Fallon]

"Who goes- Oh..." It was surprise that consumed Fallon when the golem entered, the door clattering loudly and her mind forcing her up into a crouch. One hand had grasped around the coat, the kukri drawn and raised back ready to strike at whatever had come through. But there was cause for pause as she looked, staring down at the design so neatly polished and constructed before her. And there it stood for a moment, paused upon its little wheels, the gentle rocking as she gingerly dropped the coat, reached forward and plucked the letter from the basket. It was animated once more as it wheeled off, and left her there stunned the eyes darting down at what was in her hands.

The first question that came to mind was who on earth in their right mind would contact her at this bell? The second is why would they contact her in this method? The world was asleep - least the mortals were - was there a reason for this? Did they know she would be awake? Bare fingers flexed across the kukri hilt, before gradually she lowered it to the floor. No, there had to be a reason behind this. And one she would attempt to find the answer to - her curiosity was already hooked.

"Let's see here..." Her blood chilled when she read the words, lip twitching, the mind repeating the words in her mind. Nightmares, she had them on occasion, they weighed on her consciousness but whether or not she spoke during them she did not know - she was after all asleep. Nor, for that matter, had Zandelia ever made any comment on her night time behaviour - it was an unknown as far as she was concerned. The token fell with a clatter to the floor, and that was what grabbed her attention next. Raised in the light she studied its surface, picking out the 'squiggle' - better known as a glyph - in the low light. The Lykata gave a prickle, a subtle urge to study what was before her and she answered it willingly.

Inhaling deeply, Fallon cupped both her hands around it. Her shoulders hunched down, eyes glazing over as she stared upon the token, fingertips lightly tracing it. The mind fell, the sensation rippling through as she felt the muted state consume her, rushing and swirling behind her ears. *Asked Ink on 'read' information on token.Summoning, accepting, requesting of an individual. Her head gave a tilt, her world stilling as she tried to maintain the possibility of understanding. Invitation, wanted to go somewhere. Sound, it clinks. Clinks and clunks. Nearby? Her memory briefly flickered to the letter and the lab, the number signified that the was the place that she was wanted meant she had to go downwards - and probably beneath the ground.

Eyes blinking she stared down at it once more, the sensation ripping from her as she considered what she knew. It was all certainly pointing in one direction upon this isle of dead, and so looking towards the still open door of her quarters. Picking herself up she stretched, her body clicking as she pulled it into life, it was there that she begun the process of pulling her equipment on. The coat despite the heat, the cloak of black, the armoury that she brought with her being buckled into place - paranoia had become her bedfellow while in Sahova it seemed. With the letter and token within her grasp, she gave a glance back before making her way in the direction of the depths and towards the Laboratory 43X. Her lip gave the smallest of curls, "Let's get the show on the road shall we?"

There was a mystery to be had, and she wanted to be the one to answer it.

Equipped list :

So I can keep track: Kukri, Tulwar, Gauntlets, Leather studded armour, leather greaves, 'Quality Cloak', and other various clothings.

[Ink]

With the token in her possession, no barrier obstructed her steps through the Gug Andjak. For all that the mortals slept safely, the Nuit and golems seemed to hardly recognize the hour. The population of the island was sparse, the citadel could easily have housed three of four times the population although the resources would fail long before maximum capacity.

Always the city seemed to call Fallon down into the cavern bowels beneath the city, where even the dim light seemed to struggle. Though the sconces were magical in nature, they fought a losing battle. Down each staircase beyond the ground floor, Fallon would encounter peacekeeper golems. At first only one a floor, and then pairs. After the fortieth floor not only were there two golems their curasses’s were so covered in etched glyphs they were dizzying to behold. Lines, swoops, dots going in a hundred different directions. Not a single one stopped Fallon, the token gave her admittance.

As for laboratory 43X, it was one of an enormous number of doors several of which exceeded the constraints of the alphabet and dwindled into a mix system of double letters and glyphed designations. The door to the human’s destination was quaint, and in all ways unremarkable. Old wood with grain worn down to a smooth surface. The knocker had once been copper now held a sickly green-grey hue. No door knob was available to her, but before she would have had a chance at all the door slid open. Hinges didn’t complain.

Within, the chamber was poorly lit, draped in curtains of cobwebs and a fluffy carpet of dust. At the center where a number of huge glyphs and circles focused sat a darkly robed and hooded. Though the frame of the person gave no impression of gender the delicate cut and quality of the fabric spoke of femininity. If the clothes were not enough, the voice banished the alternative. “Welcome, my letter made it.” The hooded head tilted to the side, the voice had sweeping, rich contralto. A laugh like the noon bell on a spring day filled the room, “Please, please come in, I have been so anxious to meet you Sweet Soulful one.”

The woman didn’t move from her seat, though she raised her arms like the welcome of a long lost friend, “I am Lyre, some know me as The Songbird.”

[Fallon]

That hum of nothingness was what greeted her, that lingering noise of work resting just beyond her senses and somewhere else. Low lights greeting, no one stopping her as she stepped through the eerie atmosphere that seemed to gather and collect around her. Nothing, no eyes, no prickling as the bodies seemed to thin and give her only nothing. It was only as she continued her descent that it only dawned on her on the depth of the citadel, and how it seemed to increasingly expand out. Her legs begun to complain, muscles pinching as she made her descent downwards - heels tapping at the back of the steps before she took it. She was not about to allow herself to meet an early demise by a misstep.

And then the golems came. There was a pause when she spotted the first one, back straightening and her head cocking to one side. Part of her mind flickered, trying to work out what exactly they were - golems, yes, their function however remained a mystery as she forced her movement onwards, slightly more cautiously than before. Afraid almost that she would awaken them from whatever state they were in, but grateful that for the most part they were ignoring her. But those swirls and squiggles did not get past her, growing into complex structures that her mind could not comprehend, not truly. A user of magic she may have been, but such practices were beyond her. Such ogling's however were cut short, disappointingly, and the mercenary was brought to her destination - after nearly walking straight past it.

Back tracking she hovered there, finger and thumb curling the letter in her digits, her eyes lifting and flickering to the only tell tale sign of what marked it out. The gauntlets flexing, she raised her hand to knock upon the door - but before the metal could make contact it opened, silence once more greeting her. It was at the edge of the door way she peered inwards, eyes giving a flicker down, noting the seeming lack of disturbance within the dust, no signs of movement or steps marking it. Her eyes however lifted, catching the dark robes within the gloom as she squinted at it.

"Lyre?" Fallon tested the name, "Does that mean if I pluck the right strings I will make a beautiful melody? Or does the songbird require a partner within their cage to halt a mournful song for a more joyous one?" There was a wary glance down into the room itself then, her entire form leaning over the boundary of corridor and laboratory, squinting at the dust almost expectantly. Was there something lying beneath it? Hidden from view and just beyond her awareness. That laughter however made the mind tick over, the arms raised all too familiar in greeting. Who would perform such a familiar action? Who would reside here in the citadel that she knew so well? And so casually too. It was puzzling, and disturbing, her skin twitching in annoyance.

"Your letter did indeed make it," Her foot reached inwards, giving a hesitant tap upon the floor, ensuring that it was indeed solid to stand on, before she brought herself at last inwards - still lingering at the door way, "And so... Lady Lyre of the Songbirds, what can the Red Wolf possibly do to assist you at such a late bell?" Her eyes narrowed, clicking back through the words and what she had seen, "You speak with much familiarity... anxious? Did your want to meet I make you nervous and restless?" Her other foot gave a small, slightly sweeping step, both hands coming behind her so the tapped upon the hilt of her kukri sheath, "Is this business? Or idle passing?"

[Ink]

She laughed again a riotous trill “I’d prefer you didn’t touch my strings Sweet Soulful one, we’ve only just met.” Lowering her arms back to her side the voice continued, “I have no cage either, it would not be appropriate for those like you and I.” As Fallon stepped even the barest hint beyond the door’s threshold it slid shut behind her. Though it didn’t slam the force behind the door was more than enough to scoot the securely planted woman another step forward so it could close properly.


Lyre’s figure rose, the robes obscured all hint of her body beneath but the slow ay she stood was not unlike a elder’s aching movements. “I have no need of your Red Wolf, just you sweet one without monikers or titles. We could make this business but it needn’t be, it is at your discretion. “ Stepping forward she smudged the glyphing circles which activated them. A flicker without an accompanying noise sparked through the room. In less than a clock took to tok, the glyphs were gone, the chair was gone and instead a door stood on the far end of the room behind Lyre. A number of magical processes had occurred simultaneously to achieve these effects.

Once more an arm reached out towards Fallon, this time the a black gloved hand fell out of the sleeve. The hand itself was tiny, slender beyond possibility, each digit was as long as Fallon’s own but they appeared to be without muscle or flesh. No actual details were visible through the fabric though. “We have been waiting a long time to meet one such as yourself. Come take my hand and let us learn of one another.”

[Fallon]

Fallon stiffened when the door behind her slid shut. Hairs gave a raise, the seeming exit closing behind her without a moment of notice and leaving her stuck within the belly of the room. For a moment her jaw tightened, lids pinching as she gave another, tentative tap against the floor with her boot and took herself inwards - cautious as she heard the laughter and the answer social quips she had placed, "Yes, cages are awfully restricting. And I will do my best to keep the fingers away from you strings... though, forgive me if I become too curious for my own good."

Lips gave the curl, the slow movements of the other sending the mind tickling with thought. How old was she? It was a she, it certainly sounded so. What was she, came the next question? Human, Nuit, or something else? And yet there was that constant press of informality, that pet name already placed down and given in title - Sweet soulful one, it was a name that made her twitch with the close association of 'Sweetie'. She would have coined it as a patronising jab that the Sahovans had conjure up, if it was not for the niggling thought that it was designed to be more complimentary and far from any insult.

"So, no monikers or titles or business, yet pet names. Very well, Songbird, I shall play," She gave that cautious step inwards once more, at least until the glyphs upon the floor was activated. Fallon blinked, her form flinching to the obvious display of magic that had come forth. Knees gave that small bend, that bracing for what could possibly come her way. Within the niggling words of trap laced up into her skull, but she held herself as her eyes flickered around the room before inevitably settling upon the door at the far end of the room.

Was it always there? Her mind replayed her entry, remembering the only door she did spy being the one she entered in through. So where had it come from? How was it hidden? Her gaze shifted then, looking down towards the lacking glyphs with a frown - where they the cause of it? Did they make the door appear? She did not know enough on the subject to garner herself any true answer, yet in her mind the evidence suggested that somehow they did. The gaze turned then, the tiny hand within her gaze and reaching out to her.

"We?" Fallon questioned back. She took another step closer, chin lifting as she tried to look around the black, gloved hand. Her own gave a small clink of metal in response, the gauntlets still around her hands. But there was something familiar, the length, the sizing, she gave a wriggle of her own fingers - a match of some form? Just who was she contending with? "And one such as myself? You require... a specific skill set that I can offer? Something I can do?" She paused then, lips pursing into a line, "Are you sure this is not business?"

Within arm's reach now, she could so easily touch whatever it was - thin and gangling as it was, mere bone she would have called it. At last with a twitch, she raised her left hand and gingerly offered it over, allowing herself for the moment to be lead. But that did not stop the asking of a pressing question before it grated down her mind, "I will be bold, why do you refer to I as Sweet Soulful one?"

[Ink]

As Fallon drew close the shadowy visage gained depth and detail of form but it was still hard to observe. Each time the human tried to meet Lyre's gaze the tiniest whisper strummed through the back of her mind where reflexes and dreams lived. Don't look the voice nudged. So subtle it would have taken a mastery of self and supreme will to dislodge. The Songbird grasped the wolf's hand, it felt boney but utterly unyielding, perhaps even sharp. The only thing that was certain was that there was nothing natural about the grasp.

Leading towards the newly revealed door Lyre stepped in full paces as opposed to small steps one might expect, her robes displayed well more than enough fabric to cover this expansion. After a couple of steps it became clear that her gait was yet again more calculated, it was to a beat; constant and not uncomfortable for her human companion. "I will answer your questions, all of them which are within my knowledge to do so if you give me but two things. One I must seek your oath of secrecy what you see beyond this door must never be repeated or you will cause the death or enslavement of me and mine. Second I would ask that you initiate one of my kin into your magic of unseen limbs, you may take your pick of us who you wish to teach, none will object." She paused their advance just before the door, this portal did not open as they approached. Starkly blunt in her demands did not make them any easier to swallow. "Know that I will seal your oath with my own magic and there will be no backing down from your word." She gave a heavy and dramatic sigh that sounded eerily of a string instrument rather than a human voice. "Please understand that is necessary it would not be my choice had I one."

After a beat, she continued, “As a note of good faith, I will answer your first question for free. I call you Sweet Soulful one because of what the God’s gave you for free, your soul. It is yours in its entirety and that is a greater gift than mortals understanding.”

[Fallon]

It was strange, at least, that was how Fallon could only describe it at that present time. She gave a blink, eyes slipping and faltering, leaving only questions to the sound of an insecure voice. Don't look, why not look? The veil was there, there was nothing to see? Is it not respectful to meet ones gaze? She attempted to get her gaze to look again, to meet where she felt it would sit - only for her eyes to slide once more away before she could focus truly. Her own hand gave a twitch when it was taken, leading her onwards so they were at last before it.

There was a rhythm, that constant speed - her own adrenal was beginning to rise. Anticipation? What was to come? What was to happen? She inhaled deeply, taking in the musky air as she let the gaze slide once more to Lyre resting this time somewhere away from the face and about where the collar bone would rest - or at least, where she guessed it would be. She was still deciding if this Lyre was even human, let alone mortal - other races flittered through her mind, nuit struck a chord again, but then she moved her mind down to something else. Strings, silk, gossamer - Symestra? The hand was certainly spindly, but was that really the case? Or, something different altogether? An unknown she did not know of - perhaps it was not even living, or for that matter had never truly lived at all.

Her mind flickered briefly to the golem that had given her the message in the first place, and then down to the veiled lady, clad in all her layers and so neatly covered from head to toe. There was no way possible, she tried to reason with herself, that a golem could be brought up to such a level to match that of a sentient being. Right?

"You had one suggests that you are bound by the wills and whims of another, higher power. Or... that you live in fear of something knowing," She was not really given the opportunity to truly think it out, they were before the door and the business side of proposition was put forward. No, it hung heavier that a simple proposition she realised as she repeated the words within her mind, "Only beyond this door?" her head gave an incline to it, "Does that mean I can tell people of my walks down to lab 43x and then of the mighty hike back up to the surface? I will respect client privacy then. You have your oath," There was a small hum, that momentary pause upon the subject of magic. It was something she did not hand out on a whim. No, it was something that had to be earned in her eyes.

"I have my own conditions on terms of the magic. It is not something I hand out nor teach even when demanded," She frowned then, "So being asked without sharing such delicate information is rather... daunting." Her gaze looked upwards and around the room then, perhaps there was some truth in Sahova simply knowing and hearing all that went on in the citadel. Clearing her throat, she continued, "Should your kin be able to receive such a gift, I will have privacy with whoever I so pick and I will require time. Much time. Not the work of a mere handful of chimes nor a bell. It is a delicate act that I feel requires a different level of understanding. And I highly doubt that you would want it to go amiss either?"

No one did, it was a rhetorical question. The answer given to her caused only a momentary pause, before at last she nodded, "A greater gift, a greater gift..." she repeated the words only a few more times before at last letting them fade to silence and her gaze looked only then towards the door, "It is a gift one does not realise that is so great until it is stripped from them... or they never had one to begin with. If that is even possible."

[Ink]

“How strange it was that damnation and destiny so often appears as the same sweet song?” Lyre asked, clearly rhetorically and perhaps vaguely devoid of sanity although nothing else had yet hinted at such instability. “Your condition is accepted.” The figure bobbed its cowled head. As she did a small melody began to emanate from beneath the yards of obsidian cloth. It was a song no voice could mimic but the sweet rendering of strings plucked by expert fingers. Lyre had risen her arms once more away from her body, making her robes appear like great bat wings. Seemed to either not care that it appeared odd or simply not comprehend it.

A hypnotist of any caliber would understand she was setting a marker and her voice dripped with the will-forcing djed as she spoke her next utterance. “All which you experience once entering this door will remained locked in your mind until such a time as you exit from this door. You may not speak of it on threat of being made mute and blind. ” Hypnotism worked best when the target was unaware but this time was different, Fallon had given her consent. This suggestion was less binding than other magical alternatives but it would not physically harm her, all of the harm would incur mentally and manifest as real symptoms. In some ways it was a kindness in others infinitely crueler. No healer could heal a mute tongue that was muted by one’s own willpower, no that took a mage of great caliber.

The door swung open and Lyre stepped forward without trepidation. As Fallon’s feet passed this final threshold, the robes and shadows enveloping her guide dissipated. They were not shirked, they were not glyphed, they simply were no more. All of it had been a suggestion, a terrifying display of a master in her craft. What was left behind was a golden-gleaming vessel. At first glance was human in figure, female even. But when eyes met her hips something askew tremendously, her entire back was swayed forward into a beautiful, perfect arch. Dotting each side of what would have been her spine were holes, her torso was a metallic instrument of some kind. Her arms still flung high, only now in truth there were swings, wings of strings. From her wrist to her hip the longest cord spanned, and additional strings dimpled her arms from wrist to armpit, gradually shortening as they drew nearer her body. Mirrored was was this harp on either side of the golem. The final instrument that was most readily visible existed in the front of her torso where a golden lyre was carved where a rib cage would dominate on a human. The Songbird had been no idle title.

Across her entire body ran etched filigrees, serving no other purpose than beauty’s. Where this filigree reached her face it splayed out into a crest around her visage giving the appearance of an elegant heron. Her eyes, so previously shrouded, turned on the would-be teacher. The spheres were spheres of huge topaz, seemingly suspended in their sockets. On closer inspection this suspension would be made clear as a trick of light and paint. “Come Sweet soulful one and see what no natural born creature has yet to discover.” The golden golem’s hand had revealed itself as skeletally slender, and delicate just tiny spokes of metal except where the pads of fingertips ought to be there, there she had tiny fabricked disks so she might touch without puncturing. With syncopated grace, Lyre led Fallon deep into the caverns.