The Second Sight

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Once dressed, you stumble toward the bathroom to brush your teeth and get your appearance in order. You flip on the light and scowl at yourself in the mirror. Your bangs started to turn white when you were a teenager, but the rest of your hair is: <<link [[black |Texture]]>> [\<<set $haircolor to "black">>]<</link>> <<link [[brown |Texture]]>> [\<<set $haircolor to "dark brown">>]<</link>> <<link [[dark red |Texture]]>> [\<<set $haircolor to "dark red">>]<</link>> <<link [[ginger |Texture]]>> [\<<set $haircolor to "ginger">>]<</link>> <<link [[golden blond |Texture]]>> [\<<set $haircolor to "golden blond">>]<</link>> <<link [[ash blond |Texture]]>> [\<<set $haircolor to "ash blond">>]<</link>>

Your eyes have dark circles under them and looking at yourself in the mirror makes you feel even more tired. You’re only twenty-three. [[You sure don’t feel it. |Gender]]

Outside, there’s a thick layer of frost clinging to the grass and the air has a bite to it, heralding the first icy notes of a long winter. An old jeep idles in the driveway, its headlights glaring out into the woods. “I told you to be ready when I got here,” Carter says as you climb into the front seat. “Pft, when have I ever listened to you?” you ask as you turn some of the heating vents toward yourself and cup your hands over them. Carter snorts. He’s at least twenty years older than you, with a permanent five o’clock shadow and messy, graying hair. He wears a khaki field jacket, hiking boots, and the perpetual, grizzled frown of a man who works too much and has too little free time. “So, do we have a case? Or did you just miss me?” you ask. “You’re never gone long enough for me to miss you,” Carter grunts back as he twists around in his seat to back up the jeep, turn it around, and head back down the long drive. “A call came in last night for a missing teenager. Possibly an abduction.” You wish you could say you were surprised, but you’re not. It feels like all you ever do is deal with missing persons. “Who are they? What happened?” “Casey Powell. Her father came home from his late shift and went to look in on her, but found her bed empty and the window open. She’s fifteen, a straight-A student, a frontrunner for a sports scholarship, never been in trouble, lots of friends. Probably not a runaway.” You shrug. “Or she's definitely a runaway,” you say. “Having the perfect life means being perfect. That’s a lot of pressure.” “Was that your excuse?” "Oh, shut up, old man." [[Next|next dialogue]]

He smirks at you, but it fades and he shakes his head. “Her parents insist she wouldn’t sneak out.” “Well, yeah, but if parents knew their kids half as well as they think they do, you wouldn’t have to work so much overtime.” Carter snorts and shoots you a look, but doesn’t argue. “Any initial feelings?” “Just from that?” You shake your head. “No, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ll get more at the scene.” Carter nods and then glances over at you as he turns onto a desolate back road that stretches on into the dark for miles. Dense, black woods crowd in on both sides. “There’s a blanket in the backseat if you want to sleep a while longer. We’ve got about a two hour drive. And if you haven’t eaten anything, we can stop at a gas station for a quick bite.” You make a face, even as you twist around in your seat to grab the blanket off the floorboards. “My stomach still remembers the last breakfast burrito I grabbed. I’m good.” Your partner answers only with a laugh. ✤ ✤ ✤ [[Next|next pages 1]]

✤ ✤ ✤ It isn’t really a job. At least, not in the way that most people think of jobs. After all, Carter is the cop. You’re just his–what? Hanger-on? Consultant? Carter once jokingly suggested the title of “vizier”. According to him, he performed some legal backflips to put it all on the up and up, and he’s told you not to worry about it. So you don’t. What matters is that it puts food on the table and keeps the lights on. You don’t need a whole lot more than that. You wake up just as you’re approaching the Powell residence and sit bolt upright as a shiver runs down your spine and the hairs raise on your arms. There’s panic lingering in the air, leaving a sour taste in the back of your throat. It marks the residence like a scar. As the jeep gets closer you can see that no one is around except for the deputy assigned to watch the place. You don’t envy that job. “You got that look on your face,” Carter says as the jeep rolls to a stop and he puts it in park. “What is it?” You shake your head, your eyes focused on the house as you unbuckle your seatbelt. It’s an old farmhouse, with freshly whitewashed wood siding and a handful of outbuildings including a barn and a milkshed. The nearby fields are overgrown and one side of the property immediately butts up against the nigh impenetrable woods that covers most of the county. “Fear. Panic,” you mumble. "Casey's?" [[Next|Answer-ILchoice1]]

Your hair is $haircolor and... <<link [[long and straight. |Age]]>> [\<<set $hairtex to "long and straight">>]<</link>> <<link [[long and curled. |Age]]>> [\<<set $hairtex to "long and curled">>]<</link>> <<link [[shoulder-length and straight. |Age]]>> [\<<set $hairtex to "shoulder-length and straight">>]<</link>> <<link [[shoulder-length and curled. |Age]]>> [\<<set $hairtex to "shoulder-length and curled">>]<</link>> <<link [[short and curled. |Age]]>> [\<<set $hairtex to "short and curled">>]<</link>> <<link [[short and straight. |Age]]>> [\<<set $hairtex to "short and straight">>]<</link>> <<link [[long and braided. |Age]]>> [\<<set $hairtex to "long and braided">>]<</link>> <<link [[shoulder-length and braided. |Age]]>> [\<<set $hairtex to "[shoulder-length and braided">>]<</link>> <<link [[short and braided. |Age]]>> [\<<set $hairtex to "short and braided">>]<</link>>

"--Where’s the family?” “Probably at the station, or with relatives,” Carter replies. “They won’t be able to come back to the house until forensics is done.” “When will that be?” “Who fucking knows?” [[Next |next page 2]]

You nod and the two of you climb out of the jeep, slamming the doors behind you. It’s enough to wake up the deputy who is posted in the squad car parked in front of the garage. But when he sees you and Carter he gives a sleepy wave and goes back to sleep. You follow Carter to the front door without a second thought. “Don’t touch anything,” Carter says over his shoulder as he unlocks the door with a key pulled out from under the mat. You give him a look, tempted to remind him that you’ve done this a few hundred times and you know the rules, but you refrain. Instead, you duck around him into the house. “Do you need me?” he calls after you. “Not right now,” you say. “Stay on the porch. I’ll yell for you if I find something.” Carter grumbles something in reply, but turns away and starts patting down his pockets with one hand trying to find his cigarettes. You leave the door open behind you as you step deeper into the living room. [[Next|Inside Farm.]]

The house is strangely still and silent, despite the toys scattered on the floor, and the dishes from the previous night’s dinner stacked on the sideboard. There are boots and coats by the front door and a rumpled blanket and pillow on the couch where someone slept the night before. It looks normal. Painfully everyday and homey. But under the surface and the silence, you can hear the whispers–the residual bits of conversation and memory that are embedded into the air itself. It’s like sitting in the audience at a theater, waiting for the curtain to lift, or listening to a radio station while another channel bleeds in underneath. You suck in another breath and then let it out slowly as you close your eyes and then open your mind. [[Next |Vision1]]

The whispers immediately turn into a deafening cacophony of residual laughter and chatter so loud you cringe against the initial onslaught. The sounds are laid so thickly over one another that they are difficult to parse, like a hundred people all speaking at once. It’s hard to separate each of the layers of memories and time from one another. It takes you a moment, but you manage to push the sounds away and instead focus on the little contrails of residual energy that linger in the air from those who live in the house. They run up the stairs and down again and through each of the rooms, some constant and steady and some flickering and erratic. [[Next|Visionchoice]]

You flinch against the screaming fear that echoes through it so sharply it momentarily drowns out everything else. //Mom//, you think and it takes [[you a second to pull yourself together again. |Visionchoice]]

It’s almost hot to the touch, brimming with paternal affection and exhaustion, underlined by that same bone-deep fear that’s muted and buried. //[[Dad. |Visionchoice]]//

They twine around each other, almost in constant sync, even as they split apart and then join together again. //Twins//, you think. [[They must be Casey’s siblings. |Visionchoice]]

It shifts and changes rapidly, going from searing brightness to dimming again as it pulses with a hurricane of shifting moods. [["And Casey," you say to yourself. |Forward]]

You follow the signature up the stairs, ignoring the ghostly sensation of other bodies passing you on the landing. “Where are we going, babe?” The energy leads you to a bedroom at the end of the hall, where it begins to coalesce the more you focus on it. Then, finally, there she is. Casey. Sitting on her bed and at her desk and dancing around getting ready for school and doing her homework. The impressions all overlap each other, like a double-exposed photograph with one image imposed on top of another You hone in on the brightest impressions by the window, watching as the memory of Casey climbs outside onto the roof. It’s warped a little so it looks like a dozen Caseys are climbing out at the same time. You sigh to yourself and approach the window to look outside. It’s still just barely dawn, so the trail of residual energy streaking across the yard stands out in bright contrast. “Meeting… friends? A boy?” you wonder aloud as you step back from the window. The house doesn’t answer. You don’t expect it to. “Well, I imagine that’s easier when you’re not living with a cop, huh?” "Kid? Hey...?" <<textbox "$name" "Val">> [[Next|next3]]

You reach out and touch: [[The warmest thread. |Mother]] [[The brightest thread. |Dad]] [[The two identical threads. |Twins]] [[The flickering, erratic thread. |Flicker]]

"Hey! $name!" You come back to yourself with a jerk and open your eyes. You’re standing in a small bedroom, with pink-painted walls covered in posters. A curtain of paper cranes hangs over the bed and there are books and homework things scattered everywhere. It takes a minute to clear your head of all the residual whispers that nag you even on your way down the stairs, where you find Carter waiting in the living room. “I thought I told you to stay outside,” you say. Carter rolls his eyes, the expression dripping with fatherly annoyance underlined with just a tinge of worry. “It’s been almost an hour, kid,” he replies. “It’s been a while since you’ve taken that long with a vision. I assume you found something?” //Ugh.// No wonder your head hurts. You must have been more swept up in the noise than you thought if it took you that long. “There’s a trail in the backyard we should follow.” Carter nods and leads the way out the front door and around the house. The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon, bathing the sky in a wash of molten pink and gold. Still, the psychic imprint is fresh enough that you have no trouble locating it again. You follow it across the breadth of the yard to the edge of the woods. Then it vanishes. [[Next.|next4]]

You pull up short and reach out with your other senses to feel around the clearing. But there is nothing. No fear or panic. No sense of another person's presence. No Casey. [[Next |Next5]]

“$upperboygirl?” Carter prompts you with a frown. “It’s… gone,” you say, with disbelief etched into your tone. You aren't even sure what you're looking at. “Gone? Did someone take her?” You shake your head as you turn to face Carter. “If they did, they would’ve left a trail. She would’ve still left a trail.” He frowns and glances around the clearing, his eyes meticulously searching the ground. “What if someone had killed her?” “Then that imprint would be here,” you reply. “Murder is… messy. Loud. And her killer would leave an impression. Are there tracks?” “No.” Carter kicks at some of the dried leaves that blanket the ground. “It’s too dry for that. So, what does this mean?” You scoff. “How am I supposed to know?” “Because you’re the psychic here?” he replies, his tone just as doubtful and sardonic. [[Next|test1dialogue][$mood +=1]]

✤✤✤ Herman County covers a lot of area on the map, but the county seat, Port Gillain, has a population of barely a thousand people. The rest of the county is mostly impenetrable backwoods, foothills, and wildlife broken up by the occasional, tiny pocket of civilization. This isolation has created a sort of mythos built up by two centuries of campfire stories told by drunk lumberjacks and witchy old folklore passed on by the fishwives. In the summer, the shops sell “Keep it Weird, Port Gillain” tee-shirts to the tourists who come poking around looking for the Lake Caleb Lights and the Abbey Dogman. Every year there is usually at least one group of ghoul hunters who come screaming back to town claiming to have seen the Beast of the Bridge or the Hairy Man. Of course, not all of the stories are old. [[Next|Next 7]]

<<link [["Man..."]]>>[\ <<set $gender to "man">> <<set $heshe to "he">> <<set $himher to "him">> <<set $hishers to "his">> <<set $hisher to "his">> <<set $upperhishers to "His">> <<set $upperheshe to "He">> <<set $upperhisher to "His">> <<set $boygirl to "boy">> <<set $upperboygirl to "Boy">> <<set $hisherself to "himself">> <<set $genderpos to "man's">> ] <</link>> <<link [["Girl..."]]>>[\ <<set $gender to "woman">> <<set $heshe to "she">> <<set $himher to "her">> <<set $hishers to "hers">> <<set $upperhisher to "Her">> <<set $hisher to "her">> <<set $upperhishers to "Hers">> <<set $upperheshe to "She">> <<set $boygirl to "girl">> <<set $upperboygirl to "Girl">> <<set $hisherself to "herself">> <<set $genderpos to "woman's">> ] "Girl" <</link>> <<link [["Friend..."]]>>[\ <<set $gender to "person">> <<set $heshe to "they">> <<set $himher to "them">> <<set $hisher to "their">> <<set $hishers to "their">> <<set $boygirl to "kid">> <<set $upperhishers to "Their">> <<set $upperhisher to "Their">> <<set $upperheshe to "They">> <<set $upperboygirl to "Kid">> <<set $genderpos to "person's">> ] "Friend..." <</link>>

"--We’re too young to look this goddamn old,” you mutter, reaching for your toothbrush. Once you finish, you stagger back into the hall and go back to your bedroom in search of your coat and bag. You barely have your jacket on when there is the blast of a car horn from outside. You ignore it and go to retrieve your bag. It’s enough for your wallet and the small handful of tools you carry, including a penlight and utility knife. You turn the bedroom and hall lights off behind you as you go. Your cabin is small, with the living room and kitchen sharing the same space, lit up by the light over the sink. Your furnishings are: <<link [[retro and colorful. |cartertro]]>> [\<<set $house to "retro and colorful">>]<</link>> <<link [[minimalist and neutral. |cartertro]]>> [\<<set $house to "minimalist and neutral">>]<</link>> <<link [[eclectic and dark. |cartertro]]>> [\<<set $house to "eclectic and dark">>]<</link>>

"We’re too young to look this goddamn old,” you mutter, reaching for your toothbrush. Once you finish, you stagger back into the hall and go back to your bedroom in search of your coat and bag. You barely have your jacket on when there is the blast of a car horn from outside. You ignore it and go to retrieve your bag. It’s enough for your wallet and the small handful of tools you carry, including a penlight and utility knife. You turn the bedroom and hall lights off behind you as you go. Your cabin is small, with the living room and kitchen sharing the same space, lit up by the light over the sink. Your furnishings are: <<link [[retro and colorful. |cartertro]]>> [\<<set $house to "retro and colorful">>]<</link>> <<link [[minimalist and neutral. |cartertro]]>> [\<<set $house to "minimalist and neutral">>]<</link>> <<link [[eclectic and dark. |cartertro]]>> [\<<set $house to "eclectic and dark">>]<</link>>

$house is house decor $hairtex is hairtexture $haircolor is color $name is playername $outfit is player's choice of clothing $gender is male/female/enby $heshe to he/she/they $himher to him/her/they $hishers to his/hers/theirs $upperhishers to His/Hers/Their $upperheshe to He/She/They $boygirl determines boy/girl/kid $upperboygirl determines Boy/Girl/Kid $mood is total mood points $method is total method points -- Extra information: <span style="color:gold">^^Make sure that you save on this screen^^</span> ✤✤✤ ♥ (Alt+3) Playful ♡ Shy ▲ Nosell (Alt +30) ♤ Snark ♢ Kind ♧ Grumpy $ddress is "gown" or "coat" $kmeeting is "common" $kmet is "yeswine" or "nowine" $kmeeting is "maze" $kmet is "cheat" or "nocheat" $kmeeting is "library" $kmet is "up" or "down"

"--We’re too young to look this goddamn old,” you mutter, reaching for your toothbrush. Once you finish, you stagger back to your bedroom in search of your coat and bag. You barely have your jacket on when there is the blast of a car horn from outside. You ignore it and retrieve your bag. It’s enough for your wallet and the small handful of tools you carry, including a penlight and utility knife. You turn the bedroom and hall lights off behind you as you go. Your cabin is small, with the living room and kitchen sharing the same space, lit up by the light over the sink. Your furnishings are: <<link [[retro and colorful. |cartertro]]>> [\<<set $house to "retro and colorful">>]<</link>> <<link [[minimalist and neutral. |cartertro]]>> [\<<set $house to "minimalist and neutral">>]<</link>> <<link [[eclectic and dark. |cartertro]]>> [\<<set $house to "eclectic and dark">>]<</link>>

Everyone in the county–and some outside of it–knows the story of Wych Road, where a county officer found a kid passed out on the road in the middle of winter. A teenager who couldn’t remember anything but $hisher name and who didn’t seem to exist anywhere in any records. There was no missing person report. No known family. [[Next|Next 8]]

For your part, you try not to think of it. Considering that literally anyone could have found you, you think you got lucky with Carter. He even took your peculiarities in stride. Eventually. Of course, the first time you confided in him that you could hear and see things other people couldn’t, he dragged you to the doctor to get your head examined. When everything came back normal, he was understandably a bit flummoxed. However, even as he grew comfortable with your oddities, he insisted that you keep them to yourself. For your sake if nothing else. [[You didn't mind and still don't. People already think you're weird. You don't need them to think you're crazy too.|next9.][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[Nobody would believe it anyway.|next9.][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[You don't like it, but you understand.|next9.][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

Still, it’s not all bad. You glance up at the sensation of someone tapping your shoulder and reflexively move your arm out of the way as the waitress sets a slice of pie down near your elbow. “Thanks, Beth.” The old woman gives a wink and then walks off. For the most part, the locals just think you’re a kid who got lucky. You've never been pressed for details and whenever a curious tourist asks too many prying questions they’re turned away. Over the years, you have simply been adopted into the local ecology. You're one of them and-- [[--you can live with that.|next10][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[--you appreciate it. It feels good to fit in somewhere.|next10][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[--it’s pretty suffocating sometimes.|next10][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

“Can you drop me off at the library?” you ask when you’re both just about finished with your food. “Why?” “Chuck finally got those books that I’ve been looking for,” you say. “I can walk home, if you need to be somewhere else.” Carter gives you a look. “I don’t like the idea of you walking that far on your own,” he mutters. “Can you be quick at the library? I need to get back to the station sooner rather than later.” “When have I ever been quick at the library?” He sighs. “Fine. But that’s a half-hour walk and it’s getting dark earlier. I want you home by five. I’ll be swinging by to check on you after my shift.” “Fine, //Mom//.” He flicks a bit of hashbrown at you across the table. “Don’t call me that.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|next 11]]

✤✤✤ //“Don’t get mad.” "I’m not going to be mad. Just show me.” $name was on the couch, $hisher arms and legs tucked in tight and $hisher chin resting on $hisher knees. $upperheshe wore one of Carter’s old band shirts and a pair of jeans borrowed from the neighbor. It reminded Carter that they still needed to go into the city at some point and get some real clothes for $himher–preferably before another six months passed. He made a second mental note to get $himher to eat more. He could practically count $hisher ribs through $hisher shirt. “Promise?” “Jesus–yes. I promise.”// [[Next|next12]]

// $name nodded and reached out $hisher hand toward the coffee table, where there was a stack of takeout boxes from dinner and a mug of coffee long gone cold. Carter raised an eyebrow, watching the kid somewhat skeptically. Then, without any warning, the coffee mug shot across the room and broke against the opposite wall. Pieces of porcelain ricocheted every which way and Carter jumped to his feet, his eyes focused on the slowly spreading stain on the wall. “Damn it,” $name whispered. $upperheshe sounded–disappointed? Frustrated? “I was just trying to lift it! I swear! I didn’t want to make a mess!” Carter struggled to answer. // [[Next|next14]]

// $name looked apologetic. If $heshe had one, $hisher tail would have been tucked between $hisher legs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I knew it’d freak you out–” Carter cut $himher off by reaching out and grabbing $hisher shoulder. He wasn't a huggy person by nature, otherwise he would have given $himher one. $upperheshe looked like $heshe needed it. "Kid, calm down,” he said. “Take a breath.” “You’re not mad?” “No. I’m not mad.” // [[Next|next15]]

✤✤✤ You know, in theory at least, that you’re not alone. It just doesn’t seem statistically possible that you are the literal one out of seven billion people with these powers. You also are not interested in finding out. Whatever your feelings about Port Gillain, you don't think any good can come from advertising yourself. “Here.” You're sitting on the kitchen counter and look up from your book as Carter pushes a plate with a half a sandwich across the counter toward you. He’s eating the other half. You smile and watch him as you put your book aside to eat. Carter isn’t really one for idleness. He never has been. Whenever his nose isn’t buried in a case file, he’s usually cleaning, pacing, or looking for something to fix. You've always known him as the man of a million unfinished projects. At present, he's keeping himself busy with odd chores, like wiping the counter and washing the dishes. You really don't mind. [[Next|next16]]

“Are you okay?” you ask. “Hm?” Carter glances up at you. “Sure, why?” You shrug as you slide off the counter to put the plate in the sink. “I don’t know. You just seem jumpy tonight.” He hesitates and for half a second you think you see something soft and uncomfortable in his expression. Of course, that’s all you get. You’ve never really been able to read Carter like you can read others. He's more of a brick wall than an open book. “I’m fine, kid,” he says eventually and he forces out a smile for your sake. “I guess I’ve just been thinking about this new case.” “Mm…” You take a bite of your sandwich. “Why do you think so many people go missing in Herman County?” You'd lost count of the number of similar cases a while ago. Carter shrugs. “It doesn’t take much to get turned around in these woods,” he explains. “I’ve lived here for a long time and I still wouldn’t go out there at night, but a lot of people don’t have that kind of good sense. Especially teenagers.” You hum in understanding. “Whose idea do you think it was to make kids go through puberty before fully developing a frontal lobe?” He smirks. “I’m sure the wild teen years were a lot easier to handle when we were all living in caves.” [[Next|next17]]

You open your mouth to answer him, but you’re cut off by a shiver crawling up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. The quiet cacophony which always exists in your peripheral, suddenly becomes a shrill, piercing scream. Prescience. It happens so rarely that it’s easy to mistake for paranoia or an oncoming panic attack rather than a psychic event. And vice versa. Once when you were sixteen, you begged Carter to stay home because you couldn’t shake the feeling. Later on, you found out that the officer who had gone in his stead to serve a summons to one of the local whackadoos had gotten shot. Thankfully it’d been non-fatal, but it made Carter look at you the same way he looked at you when you threw that coffee mug across the room–that mix of wonder and confusion and wariness. Of course, you've been wrong before. It's been a long day and you've barely eaten anything. [[You hesitate.|logic2][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[You react.|intuit2][$intuit +=1]]❂

A strange hush settles over the cabin, as if you are both waiting for something more. Nothing comes. “Are you okay?” Carter asks quietly, but his voice seems loud enough to echo in the stillness. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Was that…?” “A gunshot,” he says. “Stay down. Turn off the kitchen lights. I'll get the porch.” Your brain feels numb, but you nod anyway. A second later, Carter begins crouch-walking across the kitchen, his head ducked low. You go the other way, toward the hall where the kitchen lights are all wired to the same switch panel. You turn them all off at the same time and instantly the whole house goes black. A second later, Carter turns off the porch lights and the dark becomes impenetrable. You can’t see anything with your eyes, so you instinctively reach out with your second sight. You can make out Carter’s aura in the dark and when you stretch it out further– There are two auras, burning hot in the dark outside. [[Next|Next19]]

“There’s two of them,” you say, aloud. “Where?” Carter asks, as he comes back to your side. You can hear him rummaging around in his pockets, but you keep your focus on the pair outside. “West, about five hundred feet away from the cabin. They’re moving.” “Away?” “No. Carter, what’s–” He shushes you and then a second later lets out a quiet ‘ha’ of satisfaction as he apparently finds whatever he was looking for. You still can’t see anything in the dark, until a dim, green light illuminates the small space between you two. In that brief moment, you can almost make out something that looks like a pager in Carter’s hand. Then it goes dark again and you feel him lay a hand on your knee. “Give me your hand.” You do so without hesitation and feel him wrap your fingers around the device. “Don’t let go,” he says. “Carter–” “Did you hear me?” [[Next|next20]]

It’s been ages since you’ve heard Carter’s ‘dad voice’ and you’re immediately swept up in a sense of nostalgia. And fear. Carter isn't a gentle guy, but he's only harsh when necessary. Like when a parent twists their kid’s arm to pull them out of traffic. “Okay,” you say, though it’s barely a whisper. Carter sighs, as if realizing what he’s done. “Kid, I’ll explain when–” A few things happen all at once. The front door slams open with enough force to nearly rip it off its hinges and there’s another gunshot–Carter’s, you think. It's so close it makes your ears throb. And then the world tilts. [[Next|Next21]]

You fling a hand out in the dark, trying to catch yourself, your poor monkey brain startled by the sudden lack of equilibrium. It was like one of those dreams, you think. The kind that made you jerk awake just before you hit the ground. Except you really are falling, you have to be– //Whump.// You hit the ground hard on your back, momentarily dazed as your brain struggles to catch up and your stomach lurches. There's some sort of light nearby, but it doesn't help you as your vision is a blurred and unfocused. You feel out of control and detached from your body, even though you can feel the cold outdoor air bite your skin and you can just barely make out the velvety black of the night's sky. //How did you get outside?// [[Next|Next 22]]

“You’re okay,” a gentle voice says from nearby. You turn toward them, but they're just another blur. All you can make out is their aura, which doesn't burn or glow so much as it just //is//. Like the bedrock of the earth. “Carter?” you manage to croak out, still dizzy and sick. “He’ll be fine.” “Maybe,” a second voice chimes in. They're brighter and harsher, like the sun made flesh. You try to say something, but the words won’t come out. Your vision dims. And you are unconscious. [[End Chapter 1|Chapter 2 splash]]

"[[So? It’s not like anyone handed me a manual about how this all works or what it means. I'm just telling you what I see... |Next6.2][$snark +=1]]" ♤ [[You shrug. "I'm just telling you what I see..."|Next6.3][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[You scoff. "You want specifics, ask someone who knows what they're doing."|Next6.4][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

by spoiledsweet

Snark: <<set $snark to 0>> Amiable: <<set $kind to 0>> Irritable: <<set $grumpy to 0>> Logic: <<set $logic to 0>> Intuition: <<set $intuit to 0>> R Playful: <<set $rplay to 0>> Shy: <<set $rshy to 0>> No-sell: <<set $rnosell to 0>> Z Playful: <<set $zplay to 0>> Shy: <<set $zshy to 0>> No-sell: <<set $znosell to 0>> The Kestrel Playful: <<set $kplay to 0>> Shy: <<set $kshy to 0>> No-sell: <<set $knosell to 0>> <<set $kdip to 0>> <<set $khos to 0>>

<a data-passage="Information">🛈 Information</a> <a data-passage= "Glossary">☑ Glossary</a>

<h3><u>Info</u></h3> <a data-passage="Information"></a>\ <<if hasVisited("Forward")>>\ <u><b>You-</b></u> Name: $name Carter //Age//: 23 //Hair//: $haircolor, $hairtex <u><b>Attitude</b></u> - ^^//(How you react to a given situation)//^^ //Snarky/Sardonic//: $snark //Amiable/Optimistic//: $kind //Irritable/Stubborn//: $grumpy Total Possible Points: 40 <</if>> <a data-passage="Information"></a>\ <u><b>Methods</b></u> - <<if hasVisited("Where")>>\ Since you don't really understand the limits of your own abilities and you're only ever guessing, you try to rely on objective reasoning and //''logic''//. <b>$logic out of 12</b> You can't always explain the way you think. You just try to follow your gut and for the most part, you just 'feel' your way through situations and rely on your //''intuition''//. <b> $intuit out of 12</b> <</if>> <b><u>Characters</u></b> - <<if hasVisited("cartertro")>>\ Jacob Carter //Age//: Late forties //Hair//: Short, gray //Height//: 6'1 ~ Carter's probably not what comes to mind when people imagine an ideal father figure, but he's the closest thing to a father you have. Caustic and taciturn, he's never been the huggy, emotional sort, but he's always kept you safe and you've always been able to rely on him. ~ <</if>> <<if hasVisited("rgender")>>\ $rname //Age//: Thirties? //Hair//: Long, platinum blond //Eyes//: Gold Playful/Bold: $rplay out of 5 Reserved/Cautious: $rshy out of 5 Disinterested/Unflirt: $rnosell out of 5 ~ $rname is terminally snarky, but as far as you can tell $rheshe genuinely wants to help you. ~ <</if>> <<if hasVisited("zgender")>>\ $zname //Age//: Late twenties, early thirties //Hair//: Long, black locs //Eyes//: Silver-gray Playful/Bold: $zplay out of 3 Reserved/Cautious: $zshy out of 3 Disinterested/Unflirt: $znosell out of 3 ~ $zname is hard for you to read and you can tell that $zhisher presence makes Carter uncomfortable.~ <</if>> <<if hasVisited("52")>> The Kestrel //Age//: Unknown //Hair//: Long, undercut black hair. //Eyes//: Blue with black sclera Playful/Bold: $kplay out of 2 Reserved/Cautious: $kshy out of 2 Disinterested/Unflirt: $knosell out of 2 ~ You feel like the Kestrel is playing a game and somehow you're a part of it. You don't know who $kheshe is or what $kheshe wants and you're not sure if you //want// to know. You find them both fascinating and infuriating in turns. ~ Hostility: $khos out of 3 Diplomacy: $kdip out of 3 <</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> ────────────────────────────────── </div> <h3 style="text-decoration-line: underline;"><div style="text-align: center;"> <<return>> </div> </h3>

[[You shake your head. "These things don't really come with labels."|Where][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[You make a face. "The parents? Maybe."|Where][$intuit +=1]]❂

Carter snorts. "All right, smartass. Is there anything to suggest she just left on her own?” “Oh, she definitely left by herself,” you say. “It’s the disappearing part that weirds me out.” “That my psychic is weirded out, weirds me out,” the man grumbles back. He gives a long sigh. “We’ll call in a couple dog teams and get them started here. C’mon. Let’s get somewhere you can eat. I know this shit is harder when you haven’t.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|Next6]]

Carter sighs. "Right. Is there anything to suggest she just left on her own?” “Oh, she definitely left by herself,” you say. “It’s the disappearing part that weirds me out.” “That my psychic is weirded out, weirds me out,” the man grumbles back. He gives a long sigh. “We’ll call in a couple dog teams and get them started here. C’mon. Let’s get somewhere you can eat. I know this shit is harder when you haven’t.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|Next6]]

Carter rolls his eyes. "You wouldn't be so touchy if you'd eaten this morning." "Sorry, the hours between midnight and ten AM are my peak hours of touchiness," you shoot back at him. He answers with a snort of laughter and shakes his head. "Do you at least know if she was alone?" “Oh, she definitely left by herself,” you say. “It’s the disappearing part that weirds me out.” “That my psychic is weirded out, weirds me out,” the man grumbles back. He gives a long sigh. “We’ll call in a couple dog teams and get them started here. C’mon. Let’s get somewhere you can eat. I know this shit is harder when you haven’t.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|Next6]]

There’s just a split second where you doubt yourself. Then you grab Carter and shove him to the side. He grabs you out of reflex and you both crash against the cupboards in a tangle of limbs. Then, as you sink to the floor the window over the sink shatters, the sound underlined by the deafening crack of a gunshot. Carter’s arms tighten around you and he turns to protect you from the spray of glass shards with his back. [[Next|next18]]

You hesitate. You try hard to keep your feet on the ground and resist jumping at every little whisper and shadow. It's probably what keeps you sane on the really hard days. Then the window over the sink explodes. You hit the floor--less on instinct and more because terror cuts you off at the knees--and Carter is immediately beside you. [[Next|next18]]

The phone rings around five. You fumble around in the dark briefly before finding it and answering. It's Carter. He doesn't offer any details, just terse instuctions to be dressed and waiting by the time he arrives. Then he hangs up. You deeply regret not turning off the damn ringer before going to bed. Your eyes burn from sleep and your body aches as you stumble out of the warm caccoon of blankets. You're immediately greeted by a biting chill and you stagger to the dresser to find the thickest socks you own, followed by: ^^//(All options are considered gender neutral)//^^ <<link [[an old band tee-shirt and jeans. |Phys App]]>> [\<<set $outfit to "an old band tee-shirt and jeans">>]<</link>> <<link [[a dress and leggings. |Phys App]]>> [\<<set $outfit to "a dress and leggings">>]<</link>> <<link [[a blouse and trousers. |Phys App]]>> [\<<set $outfit to "a blouse and trousers">>]<</link>> <<link [[whatever's on the floor and still clean. |Phys App]] >> [\<<set $outfit to "whatever's on the floor and still clean">>]<</link>>

<html> <head> <title> </title> <body style="border: dotted";> </head> <h1 style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Welcome to The Second Sight<b></h1> <p style="border: none";> The Second Sight is a modern fantasy/mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance, set in the rural backwoods of the fictitious Port Gillain. <br> <br> Herman County is famous for both its rich history of supernatural folklore and for its dark reputation as a Devil's Triangle of strange activity, mysterious deaths, and an abnormal number of missing person cases. <br> <br> You are a psychic. When you were thirteen, you were found and eventutally taken in by a local police officer. You have no memory of your early life and now, in your early twenties, you work with your surrogate father to track down missing persons and investigate the weirdness native to the county. You know in theory that there must be others like you out there, but you're more or less content with your quiet, mundane existence. <br> <br> But now the 'others' have come to find you... </p> </body> </html> <<button [[Begin|chapter1]]>><</button>>

You wake up with the immediate awareness that you are not where you should be. This feeling grows, even as you open your eyes and see that you are in your own bedroom. You sit up, frowning as you look around. There's the quilt lovingly hand-sewn by Mama June when you were in high school draped over the foot of your bed, the hamper overflowing with laundry, the decor. You’re wearing the same threadbare tee-shirt and boxers you always wear to bed and the morning sun is bright and warm as it glares in through your bedroom window. It seems… normal. So everything else was–what? A dream? It wasn’t unusual for you to have such vivid dreams, but they always come with the awareness that you are dreaming. So, was this an outlier? A fluke? That didn’t feel quite right, but you can already feel the memories slipping through your fingers. [[Next|rgender]]

You turn your head at the sound of someone moving around the kitchen, underlined by the clatter of pots and pans and a quiet radio. You frown. You live alone and Carter survives off of whatever can be put between two slices of bread. You get to your feet and cautiously pad across the floor to the hall. The radio gets a little louder as you draw closer to the kitchen and you peek in. Standing at the stove, is a: <<link [[A man...|petnames]]>>[\ <<set $rgender to "man">> <<set $rheshe to "he">> <<set $rhimher to "him">> <<set $rhishers to "his">> <<set $rhisher to "his">> <<set $rupperhishers to "His">> <<set $rupperheshe to "He">> <<set $rupperhisher to "His">> <<set $rhandpretty to "handsome">> <<set $rgenderpos to "man's">> <<set $rname to "Renard">> <<set $rnamepos to "Renard's">> <<set $rupperheshepos to "He's">> <<set $rhesheis to "he's">> <<set $rself to "himself">> ] <</link>> <<link [[A woman...|petnames]]>>[\ <<set $rgender to "woman">> <<set $rheshe to "she">> <<set $rhimher to "her">> <<set $rhishers to "hers">> <<set $rhisher to "her">> <<set $rupperhishers to "Her">> <<set $rupperheshe to "She">> <<set $rupperhisher to "Her">> <<set $rhandpretty to "pretty">> <<set $rgenderpos to "woman's">> <<set $rname to "Rowan">> <<set $rnamepos to "Rowan's">> <<set $rupperheshepos to "She's">> <<set $rhesheis to "she's">> <<set $rself to "herself">> ] <</link>>

Standing at the stove is a $rgender. You have never seen $rhimher before in your life and $rheshe is far too $rhandpretty to blend in somewhere like Port Gillain. $rupperhisher white-blonde hair is long, straight, and sleek and when $rheshe turns to look over $rhisher shoulder at you, the light catches $rhisher eyes. They're gold, like a fox or wolf, and framed by long, thick lashes. Everything about $rhimher feels out-of-place. From the way $rheshe looks, to the casually disheveled state of $rhisher shirt and trousers. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. $rupperheshe glances over $rhisher shoulder and your eyes meet. $rupperheshe smirks. "Good morning..." ^^Choose a pet name^^ <<link [["Pet"|2nextatt1]]>>[\ <<set $rpetname to "pet">> <<set $ruppetname to "Pet">> ] <</link>> <<link [["Kitten"|2nextatt1]]>>[\ <<set $rpetname to "kitten">> <<set $ruppetname to "Kitten">> ] <</link>> <<link [["Darling"|2nextatt1]]>>[\ <<set $rpetname to "darling">> <<set $ruppetname to "Darling">> ] <</link>>

//$ruppetname.// $rupperhisher voice strikes a chord in you, but you can’t quite wrap your fingers around why. Instead, you are just left with a wary, sinking feeling. “Who are you?” $rupperheshe laughs as $rheshe flips a pancake with a well-practiced flick of $rhisher wrist. “A friend.” [[“I don’t have friends,” you say flatly.|2snark1][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“You can’t have too many friends, I guess,” you say tentatively.|2kind1][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[You raise an eyebrow. "A friend would answer the question."|2grumpy1][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

$rupperheshe laughs a little louder and glances back at you. “I’ll be your friend,” $rheshe offers with a wolfish smile. $rupperheshe gives you a long once-over. “I admit, I’m disappointed that Carter never told me you were such a clever little knife. It's rather intoxicating.” [[Next|2next3mcheck]]

“Didn’t I?” $rheshe asks. $rupperheshe gives you a long once-over. “I admit, I’m disappointed that Carter never told me you had such a bite to you. It's quite enticing.” [[Next|2next3mcheck]]

“Exactly.” $rupperheshe gives you a long once-over from over $rhisher shoulder. “I admit, I’m disappointed that Carter never told me you were such a sweet thing. It's very refreshing.” [[Next|2next3mcheck]]

You narrow your eyes as you move to put the kitchen island between the two of you. Just in case. “You know Carter?” “Quite well, yes. Granted, it's been some time since we've seen each other.” That was a blatant dodge. Talking to $rhimher feels like a chase. You are ‘it’ and $rheshe is baiting you just to feint to the side and do it again. It doesn’t feel like a game you can win. You rub your eyes. It’s not just $rhimher, you think. Your head feels strange, like there’s cotton stuffed between all of your thoughts. You can't describe it. You... [[You try to work out what is happening...|logiccheck]] ✵ [[There's a knot in your stomach. Something feels wrong...|Intuitioncheck]]❂

<<if $intuit is 2>>The hairs raise on your arms and there's a bitter taste in the back of your throat. Something is wrong here... artificial. Fake. This place feels more like a dollhouse than your cabin. [[Next|intuitionsuccess]] <<else>>The feeling doesn't fade, but you can't put a name to it. Every time you try, the thought slips free of your grasp. [[Next|Failure state]]<</if>>

<<if $logic >2>>It's silent. You freeze at the realization. It's never silent. You are always dogged by the whispers and the memories. The world is only ever this silent in your //dreams//. [[Next|2logicsuccess]] <<else>>It's wrong. Something's wrong. You just can't quite put your finger on it. [[Next|Failure state]]<</if>>

The $rgender chuckles to $rself. "I suppose I've had my fun," $rheshe says. "This isn't really a proper test of your abilities. We'll talk more when you //[[wake up|2forward4]]//."

You glance at the $rgender as $rheshe turns and places a plate on the countertop in front of you. It looks like something out of a movie, with perfect, sunny-side up eggs, neatly arranged fresh fruit, and golden pancakes. $rupperheshe leans on the counter beside it, propping $rhisher chin on $rhisher upturned hand. “What are you thinking?” $rheshe asks with a curious smirk. It feels like $rheshe is laughing at you. "This isn't real," you whisper. The $rgenderpos grin widens. "Oh, very good, $rpetname." [[Next|2forward4]]

You wake with a gasp, like you’re breaking the surface after nearly drowning, and you fling yourself upright. With the haze of the dream lifted, you’re immediately aware of everything wrong. There’s the smooth glide of expensive, silk sheets against your skin and the smell of fresh linen in the air. You’re in a bed that isn’t yours. In a room that you don’t recognize. //A gunshot. Carter. Suddenly falling.// The memories came back with crystal clarity and it’s jarring to realize just how deep the haze of the dream was. It feels like you’ve been unconscious for days–weeks even. And who the hell was that $rgender? Another psychic? Something else? You fucking hope not. You swing your legs over the side of the bed and eye the room. <<if $house is "minimalist and neutral">> The decor is refreshingly familiar, sharing the same minimalist details and color scheme as your cabin. Just on a far larger budget. <<else>>There’s something strange and clinical about the decor. It’s all sharp stainless steel, blinding white, hard angles, and minimalist details. You can easily imagine it featuring in some exceptionally boring interior design magazine. Even the bedding and rugs are white. <</if>> <<if $house is "minimalist and neutral">>[[You're going to die of a little bit of envy. Just a little.|2next4att2][$snark +=1]] ♤ <<else>>[[You’re pretty sure the only people who would choose white bedding are secretly psychopaths. Fitting really, because the whole room looks like a mental hospital.|2next4att2][$snark +=1]] ♤<</if>> [[It’s way nicer than anything you can afford.|2next4att2][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[You really, really just want to know what the hell is going on.|2next4att2][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

You look at the $rgender as $rheshe turns and places a plate on the countertop in front of you. It looks like something out of a movie, with perfect, sunny-side up eggs, neatly arranged fresh fruit, and golden pancakes. $rupperheshe leans on the counter beside it, propping $rhisher chin on $rhisher upturned hand. “What are you thinking?” $rheshe asks with bright, dancing eyes. "I'm dreaming," you say. It isn't a question. It's a fact. The $rgender smiles even wider. "//Oh//, very clever $rpetname ." [[Next|2forward4]]

Despite the lingering unsteadiness, you force yourself to your feet and catch sight of yourself in the mirror over the dresser. There are deep, dark circles under your eyes. Your hair's a mess. Your pajamas are rumpled as if you spent the night tossing and turning. You reach up and smack your cheek a few times and are reassured by the sharp sting of your palm. You’re awake for real this time. At least, you //think// you are. Curious as to where you could possibly be, you make your way out into the hall, which leads you into a truly impressive looking living room. <<if $house is "minimalist and neutral">> It's the same as the bedroom and somehow even more impressive with its marble fireplace and vaulted ceilings. There’s a sectional sofa arranged in a cozy, conversation pit and a handful of art pieces hang on the walls.<<else>> Unsurprisingly, it also would have been right at home in the pages of a boring, interior design magazine, but it’s definitely impressive, with its marble fireplace and vaulted ceilings. There’s a sectional sofa arranged in a cozy, conversation pit and a handful of art pieces hang on the walls. <</if>> You push your senses out and sweep the apartment, only to find yourself caught up in something you can’t quite describe. It’s like trying to peer through a fog or walk in hip-deep mud. You’ve never encountered anything like it. [[It’s probably better not to mess with something you don’t understand.|2Next5att3][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[You push against it a little harder to test its boundaries.|2Nextintuit][$intuit +=1]] ❂

You sigh, frustrated. If you can’t reach outward, maybe you’ll get something from direct contact. You somewhat tentatively lay your hand against the back of the sofa, skimming your palm across the luxurious, black velvet. //Carter.// You’re so accustomed to his presence that his residual energy jumps out at you instantly. He’s here. Or he was recently. [[On the off chance that he doesn’t know what the hell is going on, you’re at least not alone. That helps. If you’re stuck somewhere weird, at least he’s stuck here with you.|2Next6][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[It hadn't even occured to you yet that he might have been injured in that scuffle at the cabin, but a sharp sting of relief catches you in the chest just the same. |2Next6][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[Carter seemed to know what was going on. At least, he wasn’t surprised by any of it. You have questions.|2Next6][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

Breathing out, you pull your hand away from the couch and glance around again. Your eyes land on the large windows on the other side of the room and you’re startled by the sight of a city skyline. The lights look like little landlocked stars and you move closer to the window for a better look. You’ve never traveled very far from Herman County. Not that you can remember, at least. Carter sometimes talks about ‘going into the city’ for shopping, but that’s just something people in Port Gillain say. In reality, ‘the City’ was basically anywhere big enough to justify more than one grocery store. This is alien to you. You’ve never seen so many lights. [[Next|2next6]]

Once upon a time, when you were still a teenager, you used to talk big about leaving Herman County when you were an adult. So, one weekend Carter decided to humor you and the two of you drove down state to see the capital. The experience had been excruciating. There were just too many people. Too much noise. Too many impressions. It was like not having any filter at all–like the entire city was screaming at the top of its lungs directly into your brain. You’re pretty sure Carter had anticipated the problem and was trying to prove a point. “Oh, finally awake, $rpetname? Good. Carter can stop pacing around like a worried hen.” [[Next|2next7]]

You turn sharply toward the voice, taken aback that you recognize the speaker. The $rgender looks exactly like $rheshe had in your dream—more or less, at least. In your dream $rheshe was almost unnaturally attractive. Airbrushed. But you suppose that makes sense. Dreams are malleable like that. “You’re a psychic.” It isn’t a question. You don’t know what else could explain the experience you just had. $rupperheshe clicks $rhisher tongue. “Mm, it’s more like you saying four minus two and me saying three minus one. We use different equations to yield the same answer. If that makes any sense.” It did. A little. But you can’t help but notice that $rheshe only gave you a direct answer in order to avoid another one. //What is $rheshe?// [[Next|2next8]]

“Where am I? Specifically?” “Specifically?” $rupperheshe repeats the word like it's the strangest thing $rheshe has ever heard. “Well, specifically you are standing beside my couch. Feel free to sit. It’s quite comfortable.” It’s suddenly very clear to you why $rheshe and Carter might have become estranged. Carter probably found it difficult to work with someone he wanted to //kill//. [[Next|2next9]]

You suck in a breath, trying to keep a level head. $rupperheshe is laughing at you again and $rheshe isn’t even bothering to hide it. Instead, $rheshe just stands there, smirking and eager for your answer. And you are tempted to give $rhimher one. You haven’t made telekinesis a habit. Carter always insisted it would breed laziness and he had a few rules about it when you were a teenager. Still, you’re pretty sure you could throw something if you wanted to. And you do. But you’re also pretty sure that that’s exactly what $rheshe wants. “Do you want to play a game?” [[Next|2next10]]

You look back at the $rgender and frown. “Aren’t you already doing that?” $rupperheshe barks out a laugh and drops onto the couch with an easy gracefulness and crosses $rhisher legs. $rupperhisher smile is wide and sharp. “Carter tell me that you’re very skilled at psychometry,” $rheshe says. “That’s the ability to–” “The ability to read objects and see their past. Yes, I know what it is,” you cut in. You move a little closer, unable to deny your curiosity. “I've read about it.” “Nothing worthwhile I imagine,” $rheshe replies dismissively. “I’ll show you my library later, if you’d like. But for now–the game?” You eye $rhimher as you take a seat on the couch with a good amount of space between the two of you. You're still leery, though $rheshe did grab your attention by mentioning $rhisher library. “What’s the game?" [[Next|2next11]]

The $rgender leans forward eagerly and holds a hand out to you, palm up. You understand immediately that $rheshe is asking you to read //$rhimher//. You make a face. “I’d rather not.” Was it rude to say that reading people left a bad taste in your mouth? Literally, sometimes? Probably. Still, there was a reason you avoided it. It was one thing to read someone's aura or to read objects–houses, couches, window frames. Those things are easy. Auras are like the cliff notes of the soul--the fast and loose method of learning about someone. And objects are, well, objects. They’re certain. Solid. But to read a //person// through touch? People are messy and loud and unfocused. The human mind sees and hears everything, even if its host doesn’t perceive it, and reading someone through touch is tapping directly into all of that muck and chaos. “Ah, I understand,” $rheshe says with a nod. “I do remember Carter telling me that you generally refrained from using your powers. How unfortunate. Psychic gifts tend to deteriorate when they’re not used and it’s understandable that you–” “I didn’t say I couldn’t,” you cut in. “I said I’d rather not.” The $rgenderpos lips curl into a slight smirk. “Do forgive me for finding it hard to believe you.” [[Next|2next12att4]]

[["You sigh and take " + $rhisher + " hand. This is going to suck."|Rvision][$snark +=1]] ♤ [["You sigh and scoot a little closer, holding your hand out for " + $rhimher + " to take."|Rvision][$kind +=1]] ♢ [["You sneer and snatch " + $rhisher + " hand in yours."|Rvision][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

//The world is blurring rush of gray and movement and it takes you a moment to adjust. You're surrounded on all sides by a faceless sea of bodies and feelings that all wash together in a blurry haze. The air is thick with the smell of cigarettes, sweat, and stale beer and the crowd moves and gyrates in time to music you can’t hear. You tighten your hold on the hand that is guiding you, so as not to get lost in tumult. You blink and suddenly, you are standing in the middle of a cluster of tables. It’s darker and quieter here, separate from the rest of the crowd. There are beautiful women in skimpy dresses and handsome men in suits and ties lounging together in the half-light, sipping drinks. None of them react to your presence as you navigate your way around them. You’re looking for something, though you have no idea what until you see the blond $rgender sitting at a booth. There’s a beautiful redhead perched in $rhisher lap as $rheshe converses with a man.// $rname. //The name comes to you naturally, like it has always been there. You frown as you sit down at the booth, glancing between the three. You can’t really hear what’s being said, but you understand anyway. The blond is looking for someone–criminal? Killer? Thief? It isn’t totally clear and it doesn’t matter. You are far more curious about why the unnamed man and the woman share an aura. You can see the link between them, connecting one to the other. $rname seems oblivious to it. You reach out and touch the cord that connects the pair. You can tell immediately that the energy originates from the woman and it radiates a kind of malice. Like a predator lying in wait.// [[Next|Endrvision]]

You come back to yourself suddenly and it takes you a moment to realize that you’re in bed again. For a just a second you wonder if this was all another trick, but then your eyes come into focus and you spot someone sitting on the foot of the mattress. “Carter?” Carter is reading a paperback he has all bent to hell so he can hold it in one hand. He looks up at the sound of his name. “Shit, you scared the hell out of me," he says, not sounding at all startled. "I thought you were going to be out all night.” [[You hug him. And then you hit him in the arm.|Carterressnark][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[Carter doesn't generally do hugs, but you're so relieved to see him that you hug him anyway.|Carterresneu][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[Carter doesn't do hugs. And neither do you. So, you just punch him in the arm.|Carterresgru][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

You turn your eyes to the bedroom door and glower at the blond $rgender standing there, looking unbearably smug. A second later, one of the vases sitting on the dresser flies off of it and smashes into the wall several feet from $rhisher head. Carter promptly slaps your leg in reprimand. $rname doesn’t even flinch, $rheshe just pouts at the shards scattered on the floor and the dent in the wall. “Rude,” $rheshe scolds you. [[“Whoops,” you say, insincerely.|rrepsnark][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“Sorry not sorry,” you mutter.|rrepkind][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[“I was aiming for your head,” you grumble back|rrepgrumpy][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

“In your memory,” you say, a little impatiently. “It was a club. You were talking to a man and there was a redhead sitting in your lap.” $rnamepos expression is suddenly, uncharacteristically serious. $rupperheshe tips $rhisher head and looks at Carter. “There wasn’t a redhead,” $rheshe says. “Your medium is defective.” “Or $heshe saw something you couldn’t,” Carter suggested. He sounded a little smug. "They do that.” [[Next|2next16]]

$rname looks a little annoyed, but slowly $rhisher expression fades into one of thoughtfulness. $rupperheshe lingers in the doorway for a moment more, thumbing at $rhisher lips as $rheshe considers something. Then, without a word, $rheshe steps out into the hall and is gone. “Is $rheshe okay?” you ask after a beat passes. Carter gives you an amused look. “$rupperheshepos fine.” “$rupperheshe said I ripped the memory out,” you protest. “That doesn’t sound //fine//.” [[Next|2next17]]

“It wasn’t anything as dramatic as that and $rheshe knows it,” your partner replies, shaking his head. “$rupperheshe complains only because $rheshe can. It’s only necessary to worry about $rhimher when $rheshe is silent.” You sigh, but decide not to argue. “So… are you going to tell me who shot at us?” Carter was seemingly anticipating this question and his whole person changes in an instant as his shoulders curl and his brows furrow. “I wish I could,” he says at length as he rubs at the bridge of his nose. “We don’t know anything yet.” “Didn’t they get into the cabin?” you ask. “I remember you shot at someone.” He shakes his head as he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket. He hesitates and then instead of lighting it he settles for just rolling it between his fingers. “I shot at a summoning,” he says. “I didn’t see the summoner.” You stare at him blankly as you try to process what he just said. [[Next|2next18]]

Carter glances at you and then sighs at your obvious disbelief and confusion. “We’ve talked about this before,” he begins, somewhat tentatively. “I’ve asked you since you were a kid if you wanted to know if there were more people like you out there. You always said no." "I thought it was just a question, not an //offer//!" you protest. He smirks a little in wry amusement, but he's got that tired look to him again. "Yeah, well, this world… it’s a lot bigger and a lot weirder than you think. I tried to keep you out of it, but I don’t think I can anymore.” ✤ ✤ ✤ [[Next|2next19flashstart]]

Carter doesn't stiffen or try to push you away as you hug him. Instead, he looks down at the top of your head and huffs out a soft laugh. "What this for?" he asks, tentatively raising a hand to pat your rumpled hair. "I thought you got hurt or something!" you protest as you sit back. "What the heck was--//ugh//!"" You fall back against the bed as a bolt of pain lances through your head. You clutch at your face, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. Carter just gives another snort of laughter and reaches over to turn off the bedside lamp. "Where's $rname?" you ask from under the pillow you've pulled over your face--whether to shield yourself from the light or smother yourself, you're not sure yet. [[Next|2next12.1]]

Carter laughs and rubs a little half-heartedly at the sore spot. "What was that for?" he asks. "You know what!" you protest. "What the hell was--//ugh//! Fuck me..." You fall back against the bed as a bolt of pain lances through your head. You clutch at your face, rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes like that'll help. Carter just gives another snort of laughter and reaches over to turn off the bedside lamp. "Where's $rname?" you ask from under the pillow you've pulled over your face--whether to shield yourself from the light or smother yourself, you're not sure yet. [[Next|2next12.1]]

Carter doesn't stiffen or try to push you away as you hug him. But he does laugh when you sit back and punch him in the arm. "What was that for?" he asks, still smirking at you. "You know what!" you protest. "What the hell was--//ugh//, damn it..." You fall back against the bed when a bolt of pain lances through your head. You clutch at your face, rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes like that'll help. Carter just gives another snort of laughter and reaches over to turn off the bedside lamp. "Where's $rname?" you ask from under the pillow you've pulled over your face--whether just to shield yourself from the light or smother yourself, you're not sure yet. [[Next|2next12.1]]

“Why?” “Because I’d like to punch $rhimher.” Carter tsks in amusement and smacks you on the leg to get your attention. When you peek out from under the pillow, he hands you a glass of water and a couple of aspirin that were sitting on the bedside table. “It’s as much my fault as anything,” he says. “I shouldn’t have left you alone with $rhimher. $rupperheshepos…” He sighs. “In the future, don’t let $rhimher provoke you.” “I didn’t–” “Yes, you did,” Carter cuts in. “Trust me. $rname provokes everyone. $rupperheshe gets off on it.” “It’s true.” [[Next|2next13att5]]

✤ ✤ ✤ // Carter wasn’t sure why he ever believed the company line. No one really got out of MAB. For all their talk of valuing their agents and caring for their mental health, his early "retirement" set him up smack in the middle of a major convergence. How was he supposed to see that as anything but an assignment? Of course, it was probably his fault. He had asked to be posted with the local police because he was retired–not old. Not yet anyway. He needed something to keep himself occupied. Unfortunately, the bureau agreed. Still, it was comfortable. Low-effort. Sure the area was lousy with magic and anomalies, but the most he was expected to do was submit his reports to whatever poor intern was saddled with that job. He didn’t expect MAB to actually interfere otherwise. The truth was that MAB didn’t care about ghost lights or missing people. They wouldn’t be interested until a body was found turned inside out or something. So until then, he just had to do the cop thing.// [[Next|2nextflash]]

//Of course, “comfortable and low-effort” was just another way of saying it was all really fucking boring. He wasn’t sure how anyone managed to spend thirty years trolling the same dusty backroads looking for teenagers out for a joy ride or people driving home late from the bar. This was the kind of work that eventually drove people over the edge. Carter sighed as he turned onto one of the main high roads that cut through the middle of the county. The night was passing at a crawl. It was almost three in the morning and there wasn’t a single other soul on the road, which was probably for the best. It had snowed a little earlier in the day, making everything just that much slicker, and Herman County was full of amnesiacs who couldn’t remember how to drive from winter to winter. He was just beginning to pick up a little speed when his headlights bounced off something laying in the middle of the road. On instinct, he slammed on the brakes and swerved the car to the right, driving it off the road and onto the grassy shoulder. It was probably by virtue of the jeep’s weight alone that it didn’t rollover.// [[Next|2nextflash20]]

// Carter’s heart was in his throat, but still he immediately threw himself out of the car and staggered up the embankment back to the road. He fumbled with his flashlight in the dark. That couldn’t have…? It was. A body. A $boygirl. Barely a teenager. They almost looked like they were asleep. Like someone had just laid $himher down in the road. As Carter got closer, he started to frown. The $boygirl was too clean to have come out of the woods and there wasn’t a mark on $himher, despite $hisher bare feet and how little clothing $heshe wore. If $heshe had been running away from something and ended up here, Carter expected $himher to be dirty and scraped up. If $heshe had escaped from a local detention center or hospital, why didn’t he get a call?// [[Next|2nextflash21]]

//He knelt down beside the $boygirl and pressed his fingers to $hisher neck to feel for a pulse. It seemed like a hopeless endeavor and he felt a pang in his heart for the kid as he stared at $hisher face. Snow was gathering in $hisher hair and $hisher lips were blue from exposure. But then there it was–a steady thump-thump against his fingertips. “You lucky thing,” Carter whispered as he tucked his flashlight away and scooped the $boygirl up in his arms. $upperheshe barely weighed anything at all. “C’mon, kid. Let’s get you somewhere warm.”// [[Next|2nextflash22]]

// When he first moved north Carter started carrying extra winter clothes and blankets in his jeep. It was a necessity in a place that was a frozen hell for at least a third of the year and it always came in handy whenever he found someone stranded in a storm. Or on the rare occasion that he ended up stranded in a storm. It took a bit of maneuvering but he managed to lay the $boygirl down flat in the back seat and then began to wrap blankets around $himher. He tucked a few emergency hot compresses in around $hisher feet and hands, where $hisher digits were looking dangerously blue, and then pulled a hat down snug around $hisher ears, leaving only $hisher face exposed. When Carter was satisfied that he had done what he could, he clambered into the driver’s seat and reached for the radio. He didn’t miss MAB, but he did miss all of their handy toys. Being able to teleport the kid straight into a hospital right then would have been nice.// [[Next|2nextendflash23]]

//“Kelly, you there?” He spoke into the radio as he was bringing the vehicle around to get back on the road. There was silence for a few moments. Then a crackle and a cheerful woman’s voice came through: “Hey, sugar! Whatcha need?” “I’m out by the dams,” Carter replied. “I need an ambulance to meet me at a half-way point. I, uh… well, it’s another weird one.”// ✤ ✤ ✤ [[Next|2next24]]

✤ ✤ ✤ It’s the middle of the night and Carter tries to tell you to go back to sleep and rest for a while longer. You aren’t having it. Headache or no headache, you really just want answers. So the two of you move out of the bedroom and while Carter paces around the kitchen, making himself at home, you sit at the dining room table. “The Magic and Anomalies Bureau,” you repeat flatly. “Yep.” You eye Carter skeptically, torn between believing him and not. Because on one hand, Carter has literally never lied to you. On the other hand, this all sounds insane. Then again, you never truly believed you were alone and it makes at least a little sense to assume that there aren’t //only// people like you in the world. And if that is all true, then of course there’s an alphabet agency responsible for monitoring and studying it all. The only real surprise about any of this, you realize, is that Carter had known all along. [[Next|2next25]]

“Why’d you join?” you ask. He shrugs. “I joined because I wanted to learn things.” “Then why did you leave?” “Because I learned too much.” [[Next|2next26]]

Well. There was nothing ominous about that at all. “So, what were you? I mean, what was your job?” “I was a field agent,” he replies, facing you as he leans over the kitchen counter. “We did the footwork. Documenting convergences, paranaturals, wilders–” He stops short and gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry. None of this makes any sense to you, does it?” You shake your head. “Nope. What’s a convergence?” “It’s where two or more ley lines intersect,” Carter says. “It’s how you get places like Herman County. Convergences are hotspots for anomalies and the like.” You frown at him as you pull one leg up to your chest and lock your arms around your knee. “I’ve read about ley lines a little. I didn’t think they were real.” He snorts. “They’re not–at least, nothing you read was. They’re not something that can be mapped just by drawing a line between the pyramids and Stonehenge or whatever.” [[Next|2next27]]

Good enough. Weird, sure, but good enough. At least, it’s as legit an explanation for everything that happens in Herman County as anything. “So what are paranaturals and wilders?” you ask. “Paranatural was just what we called people like you. It's just a word for humans with powers of some kind--psychic, magic, whatever,” Carter says. “Wilders–well, agents aren’t actually supposed to use that word anymore. But they’re non-human paranaturals, more or less. Like fae and demons–that kind of thing.” “What word are you supposed to use?” He makes a face. “I don’t remember,” he replies. “Personally, I never met a fae or a demon who gave much of a damn what you wrote in your reports.” You absorb all of this information quietly, your chin resting atop your knee. For as certain as you had been that there was something more to the world, it’s still strange to hear it all just laid out flat like this. You glance at Carter, frowning a little as another question comes to mind. “Did you really find me by accident?” [[Next|2next28]]

Carter gives you a flat look. “Yes,” he says. “Unless MAB’s running some kind of long game on the both of us, I never volunteered for the mission where I adopt the weird kid I scraped off the road. As far as I know, they still don’t even know you exist.” “You never told them about me? Why?” Carter suddenly looks tired. Older. He scrubs at his eyes with one hand, like he’s trying to clear his head. “You were just a kid. They’d have taken you away to test you and stick you full of needles. They still might. They’d do you the courtesy of making it seem like a choice, but it never is. Trust me, for all their talk of being hands-off and avoiding direct interference, they’ll go just as far to justify not doing those things.” You stare at him. He sighs. “Look, kid. I’ll answer all of your questions eventually–I know you got a ton. But we need to talk about everything else right now.” You curl your nose. “You mean someone trying to kill us.” [[Next|2next29]]

“If you want to get technical, we only have proof that they were trying to kill me,” Carter replies. “The question now is who they are. Best case scenario, it’s someone I pissed off on the job and they’re just looking for a little revenge. They wouldn’t be the first.” He says it so casually that you almost miss it and you swallow to push down the sick feeling that’s crawling up your throat. You want to stay calm, but you don’t feel calm. You don’t know how he can stand it. “What’s the worst case?” Carter takes a moment to consider his words before coming around the cupboard to sit down at the table with you. “Worst case, this is about you,” he says, but he doesn’t seem totally convinced. “But… that would be strange. You’re a paranatural, but your powers are of limited use.” You frown at him. “Who would even know I exist?" [[Next|2next30]]

“More people than we want to as long as scrying exists,” he explains. He rubs his forehead. “I’ve still got some contacts in MAB. They promised to do some digging.” “What do we do while they dig?” Carter shrugs. “We go back to Port Gillain and we try to find Casey Powell. That's all we can do.” “Seriously?” you ask. “That’s it? We just go back to normal? That’s insane! We can’t just–” He raises a hand, cutting you off. “We’re not,” he says, obviously trying to be patient in spite of himself. “$rname has agreed to come with us and stay with you.” [[Your lip curls in distaste. "Ew, no."|2snark31a][$snark +=1]] ♤ "[["Does " + $rheshe + " have to?"|2neut31c][$kind +=1]] ♢" "[["You really want me to throw another vase at " + $rhimher + " don't you?"|2grump31b][$grumpy +=1]] ♧"

Carter smirks. "Don't like them pretty?" "Not pretty and //annoying//," you scoff back. "You're really going to break $rhisher heart talking like that," he says, though his tone holds no pity. But his amusement quickly dissipates. “Look, if it’s me they’re after, you’re better off keeping your distance. If it’s you… well, that’s what $rname is for. Either way, spending our time apart might be our best option for now. If nothing else, we can narrow down their motives.” “So, me, the one who isn’t as likely to be attacked, is the one who needs a bodyguard?” you ask. “No. You, the one who doesn’t know how to defend yourself, needs a bodyguard.” [[End Chapter 2|start3]]

“If it makes you feel better,” Carter replies with a shrug. He glances over at you. “Look, I'd rather not put up with $rhimher either, but if it’s me they’re after you’re better off keeping your distance. If it’s you… well, that’s what $rname is for. Either way, spending most of our time apart might be our best option for now. If nothing else, we can narrow down their motives.” “So, me, the one who isn’t as likely to be attacked, is the one who needs a bodyguard?” you ask. “No. You, the one who doesn’t know how to defend yourself, needs a bodyguard.” [[End Chapter 2|start3]]

"I wouldn't ask you to put up with $rhimher if I didn't think it was necessary," he says, offering you a consoling pat on the shoulder. “Look, if it’s me they’re after, you’re better off keeping your distance. If it’s you… well, that’s what $rname is for. Either way, spending our time apart might be our best option for now. If nothing else, we can narrow down their motives.” “So, me, the one who isn’t as likely to be attacked, is the one who needs a bodyguard?” you ask. “No. You, the one who doesn’t know how to defend yourself, needs a bodyguard.” [[End Chapter 2|start3]]

You're struck by a sharp, searing bolt of pain that echoes through your skull like the tolling of a bell. It takes you a minute to shake it off. [[Next|2Next5att3]]

$rname rubs $rhisher forehead. "Then you're in dire need of a great deal more practice than I thought," $rheshe replies blandly. "If nothing else, we should ensure that you do not //rip// the memories out of anyone else.” Before you can answer, Carter cuts in and turns to look at $rname. “Get out,” he says. “We’ll talk when I’ve caught $himher up on everything.” “Wait–wait!” You force yourself upright again with a wince. “Who was the redhead?” $rname gives you an odd look. “What redhead?” [[Next|2next15]]

“Whoops indeed," $rheshe scoffs as $rheshe rubs $rhisher forehead. "I’m not sure if I’m more offended by the property damage or your aim. But if it brings you any comfort, know that your efforts were just as painful for //me//. I recommend practice if only so you do not rip the memories out of anyone else.” Before you can answer, Carter cuts in and turns to look at $rname. “Get out,” he says. “We’ll talk when I’ve caught $himher up on everything.” “Wait–wait!” You force yourself upright again with a wince. “Who was the redhead?” $rname gives you an odd look. “What redhead?” [[Next|2next15]]

“Of course," $rheshe says dryly as $rheshe rubs $rhisher forehead. “If it brings you any comfort, know that your efforts were just as painful for //me//. I recommend practice if only so you do not rip the memories out of anyone else.” Before you can answer, Carter cuts in and turns to look at $rname. “Get out,” he says. “We’ll talk when I’ve caught $himher up on everything.” “Wait–wait!” You force yourself upright again with a wince. “Who was the redhead?” $rname gives you an odd look. “What redhead?” [[Next|2next15]]

Carter sends you back to bed without another word and it’s a testament to how tired you are that you actually manage to fall asleep. It just doesn’t last. At the first glimmer of sunlight slanting in through the blinds, you’re wide awake again. You’re edgy. Uncomfortable. Carter seems so at-home with the concept of someone wanting him dead and speaks of it with a maddening calm, but you can’t muster the same. Of course, you know intellectually that it won’t do any good to panic, but you can still feel it crawling up your throat. [[Next|3next2]]

You eventually abandon the idea of sleep altogether and get up to find the bathroom. Hopefully a shower will help you shake off the worst of the lingering anxiety or at least provide your brain with something else to focus on. It’s only when you’re standing under the warm spray that you realize it isn’t working. [[Next|3next3]]

Instead of mentally checking out for ten minutes, you find yourself focusing on Carter. You can just barely sense him as he moves around the apartment. It usually isn't difficult for you to feel him at a distance, but it seems to take a lot more effort today. Was it due to that same force that made everything else so quiet in the apartment? Was it a kind of magic? Or something else? $rname did say $rhisher powers were similar. Maybe $rheshe also needed a way to tune out the psychic interference? [[ Great. The one time you can feasibly shut everything out is the one time that your freaky new world view just won’t let you. |3next4][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[You’re more worried about Carter than anything.|3next4][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[You shouldn’t have even gotten out of bed.|3next4][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

Eventually, the quiet becomes too unnerving and you give up. You rinse one last time and then turn off the tap and quickly towel off before the chill can set in. You don’t have any other clothes, so you settle for putting your pajamas back on and then go out to the hall to throw your towel in the hamper. “Feeling better?” You whirl around to look at $rname, who is just suddenly //there//. Standing in the hall with you. It’s a sharp reminder of how much you actually rely on your extra senses that you can’t remember anyone else successfully sneaking up on you. You //hate// this apartment. [[Next|3next5]]

“I’m fine,” you say. It comes out a little more forcefully than you intend and you clear your throat. “What about you?” $rname tips $rhisher head to the side, $rhisher expression unreadable. $rupperheshe doesn't seem to know whether you're being sincere or not. “I’m well,” $rheshe says at length and $rheshe smiles at you indulgently. “Humor me--do your visions always come with such clarity?” [[Next|3next6]]

You frown at $rhimher as you let your weight rest against the wall behind you. You’re going to regret answering. You just know it. “I told you that I don’t usually read people,” you say. “But… no. I don’t remember experiencing someone else’s memory like that.” “But you have read people in the past,” $rheshe presses. “Was it different then?” [[“Not really. It sucked then too.”|3snarkres][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[You shrug. “I don’t know. I was still a kid, so it was usually just flashes of feelings.”|3kindres][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[“Does it matter?” you grumble.|3grumpyres][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

“Interesting…” $rheshe murmurs, rubbing $rhisher chin thoughtfully. There’s something about the way $rheshe looks at you that makes you feel like a science experiment or a specimen under a microscope. [[Next|3next7]]

$rname blurts out a laugh. “That is neither informative //or// helpful,” $rheshe says, though $rheshe seems amused regardless. [[Next|3next7]]

“Not feeling charitable today?” $rname asks with an infuriating smile. “After you were fucking around in my head?” you ask. “No. Charitable's not the word I'd use.” $rupperheshe hums at that, $rhisher eyes narrowing thoughtfully as $rheshe stares at you. [[Next|3next7]]

“Did you figure out who that woman was?” you ask at length, unsure of how else to continue the conversation. It feels weirdly civil, which is strange considering your interactions with $rname thus far. “Hm? Ah–yes. Her…” $rname looks almost amused as $rheshe runs $rhisher thumb thoughtfully over $rhisher bottom lip. “I have no way of being certain, but I suspect she was a succubus–very ancient and very rare. She was probably using the club as a feeding ground. With so many potential victims choose from, I suppose I ought to be flatttered that she thought me worthy of her attention." [[Next|3next8]]

You curl your nose. It’s still throwing you off how casually Carter and $rname talk about this stuff when you’re still wrapping your head around it. “And you just plain didn’t notice her? Sitting in your lap?” “Not at all,” $rheshe says with an indifferent shrug. “Which means that she must have been very powerful indeed.” Why did $rheshe sound so thrilled by that? What is even more frustrating is that you still aren’t sure if $rheshe is playing with you or not. “Are you going to do anything about it?” you ask. [[Next|3next9]]

$rname shrugs. “I don’t see why I should. We all have to eat. Besides, she wasn’t who I was looking for at the time. It seems incidental that her thrall had the information I wanted.” Then $rheshe gives you a long, calculating look, a small smile pulling at the corner of $rhisher mouth. “I wonder what else you’re capable of.” You raise your eyebrows at that, but before you can speak $rname turns away to go back into the living room. “Carter is getting impatient and wishes to depart soon,” $rheshe says over $rhisher shoulder. “Meet us in the out here when you’re ready.” ✤ ✤ ✤ [[Next|3next10]]

✤ ✤ ✤ For the first time since arriving at the apartment, you find yourself wondering how you even got there in the first place. And how do Carter and $rname intend for you all to get back to Port Gillain? You’re intent on asking as you step into the living room, but Carter cuts you off by pushing something into your hands as he passes you on his way across the room. “Do not lose that one,” he says over his shoulder as he grabs his jacket and boots. "Lose it?" "You dropped the other one." You look down at the device in your palm. It’s another one of those strange pager things. Like the one he gave you before. “What is it?” you ask, turning the device over in your hand. There wasn't a screen of any kind, just a few buttons with corresponding lights. [[Next|3next11]]

Carter shrugs into his coat. “We used to call it a skipper. It’s one of the little toys MAB left me. It channels magic from the ley lines and bends the aether between two points, allowing you to travel through it.” You stare at Carter. “You mean a teleporter?” you repeat, skeptically. “You’re telling me that teleporting is a real thing?” "What did you think happened at the cabin?" he scoffs back at you. Okay. //Fair//. You still make a face at him to prove a point. [[Next|3next12]]

“It’s technically called aether travel. Or aportation. And it is very real and very old,” $rname says as $rheshe appears from the kitchen. $rupperheshe <<if $rgender is "man">> is wearing a pair of nice trousers with an elaborately embroidered waistcoat and a clean, black shirt <<else>> is wearing a silky blouse and a pair of tweed trousers tucked into high boots<</if>>. A half dozen, glittering silver rings adorn $rhisher fingers and $rheshe carries a heavy, woolen coat folded over one arm. You have a sneaking suspicion that this is what $rheshe would call “tame”. [["You can’t wait to see how the notorious hermits and weirdos of Port Gillain react to this. Then again, " + $rname + " might fit in just fine..."|3next13][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[$rupperheshe + " looks nice. Regardless, you don’t have a lot of room to talk in your extremely well-worn pajamas. "|3next13][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[So much for keeping a low profile. |3next13][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

“What you hold in your hands is hundreds of years of magical study condensed into a plastic toy," $rheshe says as $rheshe wrinkles $rhisher nose in disapproval. “Don’t start,” Carter warns, obviously sensing an incoming lecture. $rname holds up $rhisher hands in a show of innocence as $rheshe comes to stand beside you. Then the moment Carter’s back is turned, $rheshe whispers: “It used to be that you had to have actual talent to–” “//$rname//!” $rname grins and shoots you a knowing look. [["You can’t help but laugh. " + $rupperhisher + " games aren’t nearly as annoying when you’re not the target of them."|rplay1][$rplay +=1]] ♥ [["You try to hide your smile. You feel like encouraging " + $rhimher + " is a bad idea."|rshy1][$rshy +=1]] ♡ [["You give " + $rhimher + " the side-eye. You're on Carter's side just because."|rnosell1][$nosell +=1]] ▲

[[A lot of the details from the other night are still fuzzy, but you definitely remember how calm and collected Carter had been for someone who'd just been shot at.|logicresult][$logic +=1]]✵ [[You remember Carter’s fidgeting and unease the other night before everything happened--how he had paced around the kitchen and kept doing small things to occupy himself.|Intuitresult][$intuit +=1]]❂

Carter had said at the time that nothing was wrong, but that had obviously been a lie. “Is this why you were nervous the other night?” you ask. “You thought something was going to happen?” Carter shrugs. “I’d heard there was some strange activity in the area, so I grabbed the skipper. Obviously, if I had known we were going to be shot at, I’d have done a little more planning." [[Next|3next15]]

“So, do you usually carry advanced magical technogadgets around with you?” you ask lightly. Carter snorts as he approaches. “There’s never much call for it, but that’s obviously changed.” You give him a narrow look. “So, you knew something was going to happen?" The cop pauses at that and then lets out a long sigh. “I hate it when you do that,” he mutters. “And no, I didn’t know what was going to happen. My contact in MAB told me that they’d picked up some strange activity in the area and gave me the heads-up. I grabbed the skipper just in case.” [[Next|3next15]]

Well, for all of the new weirdness in your life, at least Carter is still consistent. "What kind of activity?" you ask. “Magic surges, possible aether travel, that sort of thing,” Carter says. He waves a hand in annoyance. “We had no reason to think it would… well. That it’d turn into what it did. We still can’t be sure it’s related.” “It was worrisome enough for you to call me,” $rname points out. Carter shoots $rhimher a poisonous look and you get the feeling that $rname only spoke up to annoy him. “MAB was already sending someone to come poke around. I was hoping you could help them and leave me out of it. I don’t get paid enough any more to look into this crap,” he says. “Still, it doesn’t matter now. It worked out for the best in the end.” [[Next|3next16]]

“You really think it was just a coincidence?” you ask. $rname shrugs. “For now, at least. As I said, plenty of people have access to aether travel–one way or another. There’s no way to know if the readings MAB picked up are connected to who attacked you.” “We can get into the nitty gritty later,” Carter cuts in, seemingly sensing an oncoming diatribe. “I know that this is all a lot to take in and you’ve already got enough going on in your head on an everyday basis. I’m trying not to dogpile you.” Well. You can’t really argue with that, can you? Especially since you spent the whole morning on the brink of an anxiety attack and clinging to his aura to soothe yourself. “So, who told you something was going on?” [[Next|3next17]]

Carter shakes his head and there’s something strained in his expression. “You’ll meet them soon enough. Speaking of which, we should get going.” He beckons you closer with his hand. “We’ll go together to avoid drawing attention.” You hesitate. “Last time I passed out,” you say. “Is that going to happen again?” “Last time you panicked and hyperventilated,” $rname replies as $rheshe moves to Carter’s side and places a hand on the cop’s shoulder. “But if you’re scared…” $rupperheshepos baiting you again. You know that. Carter cuts in before you can retaliate and beckons you closer. “Ignore $rhimher,” he says as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “The first time couple times are always the worst. Hang onto me and close your eyes. It helps." [[Next|3next18]]

You nod and squeeze your eyes shut and lean a little more into Carter. A beat passes. And then another. You almost open your eyes to ask what they’re waiting for when the floor suddenly slides out from under you. Again your brain registers the sensation of falling but an instant later it’s gone and your feet hit solid ground again. “See? The first time is always the worst." [[Next|3next19]]

You hesitantly crack open one eye and then blink in surprise at the sight of your own kitchen and the welcome rush of whispers from the forest outside and the echo of familiar memories pressing in on you. It’s //alive//, in stark contrast to the weird, silent sterility of $rnamepos apartment. The transition is still jarring, to say the least. “You good?” Carter asks, giving you a nudge. “Yeah,” you say quickly, stepping away from him. “I’m–it’s good. I’m fine–” You stop short as your eyes land on the window over the sink. It isn’t broken. In fact, nothing at all seems to be out of place. “I thought there was a fight?" “There was, but I didn’t think you would mind if I cleaned it up for you.” [[Next|zgender]]

You and Carter both turn toward the voice, though Carter already seems to know who it is. There’s a... <<link [[A man...|3next21Z]]>>[\ <<set $zgender to "man">> <<set $zheshe to "he">> <<set $zhimher to "him">> <<set $zhishers to "his">> <<set $zhisher to "his">> <<set $zupperhishers to "His">> <<set $zupperheshe to "He">> <<set $zupperhisher to "His">> <<set $zhandpretty to "handsome">> <<set $zgenderpos to "man's">> <<set $zname to "Zander">> <<set $znamepos to "Zander's">> <<set $zupperheshepos to "He's">> <<set $zhesheis to "he's">> <<set $zself to "himself">> ] <</link>> <<link [[A woman...|3next21Z]]>>[\ <<set $zgender to "woman">> <<set $zheshe to "she">> <<set $zhimher to "her">> <<set $zhishers to "hers">> <<set $zhisher to "her">> <<set $zupperhishers to "Her">> <<set $zupperheshe to "She">> <<set $zupperhisher to "Her">> <<set $zhandpretty to "pretty">> <<set $zgenderpos to "woman's">> <<set $zname to "Zora">> <<set $znamepos to "Zora's">> <<set $zupperhesheis to "She's">> <<set $zhesheis to "she's">> <<set $zself to "herself">> ] <</link>>

… perched in the armchair in the corner of the living room, nursing a cup of coffee between $zhisher hands. $zupperheshe is closer to your age–you think–with dark, umber-colored skin and long, black locs gathered together in a knot <<if $zgender is "man">> at the back of his head<<else>> on top of her head <</if>>. In contrast, $zhisher eyes are shocking, silver-gray. $zupperheshe is $zhandpretty--unearthly almost. Depsite this, $zhisher clothes are utterly modest and unremarkable, consisting of a pair of blue jeans and a plain tee-shirt under a light, leather jacket. [[You smile to yourself and hope no one notices.|playful][$zplay +=1]] ♥ [[You innocently avert your eyes. Because you're not staring. Because that would be weird.|shyflirt][$zshy +=1]] ♡ [[It doesn't have any particular effect on you one way or the other.|3nextnosell][$znosell +=1]] ▲

From the corner of your eye you can see Carter giving you a suspicious look, but he doesn't say anything. [[Next|3next22]]

Carter gives you a pointed nudge, like when you were a kid and he was telling you to straighten up. [[Next|3next22]]

Thankfully, the $zgender doesn't seem to think anything is amiss. “I’m glad to see you’re all right,” $zheshe says to you. $zupperhisher eyes turn to $rname, $zhisher lips pursed. “It seems that you //can// accomplish simple tasks.” The $zgenderpos expression is flat and neutral, but there is an unmistakable sharpness to $zhisher words. $rname just grins. “Cut me again, Dove.” The $zgenderpos lips twist in distaste. “Don’t tempt me.” [[Next|3next23]]

It’s the bickering that gives it away. You know this $zgenderpos voice. $zupperheshe was with $rname the night the cabin was attacked. Finally, $zhisher eyes turn toward you. “I’m sorry we didn’t have time to talk the other night,” $zheshe says. “My name is Agent $zname Mercer.” "[[$name + " Carter and I am down the rabbit hole. Apparently."|3snark24][$snark +=1]]" ♤ "[[$name + " Carter. It's nice to meet you. Again."|3kind24][$kind +=1]]" ♢ "[[Well, I'm tired and annoyed. |3grumpy24][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

The $zgender offers you a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re all right,” $zheshe says. $zupperhisher eyes then turn on $rname, becoming sharp and cold. “It seems that you can accomplish simple tasks.” The $zgenderpos expression is flat and neutral, but there was an unmistakable sharpness to $zhisher words. $rname just grins. “Cut me again, Dove.” The $zgenderpos lips twist in distaste. “Don’t tempt me.” [[Next|3next23]]

“You’re such a sweet thing,” $rname teases you, with equal parts sincerity and condescension. "Carter?" $zname asks, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah," Carter says and something about his tone cuts the implied question off at the knees and he doesn't offer any further elaboration. “It’s good of you to come." “Thank you for having me,” $zname replies. The exchange is definitely not what you'd expect to hear between old friends. It's too cool and stilted. Of course, you're half-tempted to chalk it up to Carter being Carter, but you're not completely convinced. And of course, you can't read him--not his expression or his aura. But there's obviously something about $znamepos presence that bothers him and it makes you uneasy. ✤ ✤ ✤ [[Next|3next25]]

"Your last name is Carter?" $zname asks, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah," Carter says and something about his tone cuts the implied question off at the knees. "It made paperwork easier." "You love me," you reply and you grin at his best attempt to look annoyed. You don't buy it. Carter just shakes his head before looking at $zname. There’s something uneasy in his expression. “It’s good of you to come." “Thank you for having me,” $zname replies. The exchange is definitely not what you'd expect to hear between old friends. It's too cool and stilted. Of course, you're half-tempted to chalk it up to Carter being Carter, but you're not completely convinced. And of course, you can't read him--not his expression or his aura. But there's obviously something about $znamepos presence that bothers him and you don't know how to take that. ✤ ✤ ✤ [[Next|3next25]]

Carter snorts. “As if you’re ever anything else,” he says, before looking at $zname. There’s something uneasy in his expression. “$upperhisher name is $name. It's good of you to come." “Thank you for having me,” $zname replies. The exchange is definitely not what you'd expect to hear between old friends. It's too cool and stilted. Of course, you're half-tempted to chalk it up to Carter being Carter, but you're not completely convinced. And of course, you can't read him--not his expression or his aura. But there's obviously something about $znamepos presence that bothers him and it puts you on edge. ✤ ✤ ✤ [[Next|3next25]]

✤ ✤ ✤ You go immediately to your bedroom to change into something clean--or at least, //cleaner//--and then turn to the mirror mounted on your bedroom door. You: <<if $gender is "woman">> <<link [[are short and easily fit in the frame. (5'3 and under)|3next25.2]]>> [\<<set $height to "short">>]<</link>> <<link [[are fairly average height wise and fit comfortably in the frame. (5'4 to 5'6 |3next25.2]]>> [\<<set $height to "average">>]<</link>> <<link [[are tall-ish and have to stand a little further back. ( 5'7 to 5'9)|3next25.2]]>> [\<<set $height to "tall">>]<</link>> <<link [[are very tall and barely fit in the frame. (5'10 +) |3next25.2]]>> [\<<set $height to "very tall">>]<</link>> <<else>> <<link [[are short and fit into the frame easily. (5'5 and below) |3next25.2]]>> [\<<set $height to "short">>]<</link>> <<link [[are fairly average height wise and fit comfortably in frame. (5'6 to 5'11) |3next25.2]]>> [\<<set $height to "average">>]<</link>> <<link [[are tall and don't fit in the frame at all. (6'0 and above)|3next25.2]]>> [\<<set $height to "tall">>]<</link>> <</if>>

Once you're dressed and at least half-presentable, you go to step out into the hall. You've only opened the door a little when you hear $rname, $zname, and Carter speaking in heated whispers. Unfortunately, you can't quite make out what's being said. You push your senses outward, hoping to at least be able to get a read of the room, only to be greeted by the sensation of something else pushing back. It isn't painful, even though it makes you physically stagger back a step. Instead, it feels like a gentle rebuke. Someone scolding you to mind your own business. You're instantly certain that it was $rname and... [["you're annoyed. You liked the world better when you were the only one with super powers and you're definitely not a fan of the fact that " + $rname + " can block you so easily." |3next27][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[you feel a little guilty. Psychic eavesdropping is still eavesdropping, you suppose.|3next27][$kind +=1]] ♢ [["you carefully weigh the pros and cons of throwing something else at " + $rhimher|3next27][$grumpy +=1]] ♧.

[["You think back to the way Carter and " + $zname + " greeted each other."|3logic2][$logic +=1]]✵ [[You like to think that you know Carter pretty well...|3intuit2][$intuit+=1]]❂

$zname had not been specific, but you assume that by //agent// $zheshe meant an agent of MAB. So, more likely than not, $zname and Carter knew each other back before Carter had retired. And //Carter// had seemed pretty certain that MAB would take you away and poke you full of holes. So, what did that mean now that $zname was in the picture? It makes you uneasy just thinking about it. Moreover, Carter isn't one to spell things out for you. You've lived and worked together long enough that he trusts you to <<if $logic is 3>> think things through. <<else>> do the right thing. <</if>> <<if ($zshy is 1) or ($zplay is 1)>> But maybe he shouldn't, because it's hard to ignore that first little spark of attraction you'd felt. Sure, it was only based on appearances, but still....<</if>> [[Next|3next28]]

You--maybe better than anyone else--know Carter. He's good at hiding what he's thinking and maybe you can't read his aura, but you've been together more often than not for ten years. His poker face is good, but it's not //that// good. And Carter's concerns about MAB seem pretty well-founded. At least, he is in a better place to know that than you are. Especially since he'd been with them long enough to retire. So, what did that mean now that $zname was in the picture? It makes you uneasy just thinking about it. Moreover, Carter isn't one to spell things out for you. You've lived and worked together long enough that he trusts you <<if $intuit gte 3>> to go with your gut. <<else>> do the right thing. <</if>> <<if ($zshy is 1) or ($zplay is 1)>> But maybe he shouldn't, because it's hard to ignore that first little spark of attraction you felt. Sure, it was only based on appearances, but still....<</if>> [[Next|3next28]]

$rname grins back at you, but $rhisher expression quickly sobers and $rheshe reaches for $rhisher waist, where a similar device is clipped to $rhisher belt. $rupperheshe shows it to you. “Unfortunately, these devices don’t allow for travel at will. Instead, you must tether them to specific locations or to other devices,” $rheshe explains. “More importantly, you should only use it in emergencies. MAB keeps an eye on this sort of thing.” “They can track it?” you ask. $rname nods. “They can. Fortunately, since they’re not the only ones with this technology and they can’t successfully police it, they don’t map every instance of aether travel–especially if it’s at a convergence. However, using it too often in one location might draw their attention and we don’t want to risk that.” $rupperheshe reaches out to indicate the buttons on your device. “This one will take you to me. The other is for Carter. The third is to bring you back here.” You frown at the device in your hand, your brow furrowing in thought. [[Next|ilchoice]]

From the corner of your eye you can see a small, amused smile playing on $rnamepos lips. Then $rhisher expression quickly sobers and $rheshe reaches for $rhisher waist, where a similar device is clipped to $rhisher belt. $rupperheshe shows it to you. “Unfortunately, these devices don’t allow for travel at will. Instead, you must tether them to specific locations or to other devices,” $rheshe explains. “More importantly, you should only use it in emergencies. MAB keeps an eye on this sort of thing.” “They can track it?” you ask. $rname nods. “They can. Fortunately, since they’re not the only ones with this technology and they can’t successfully police it, they don’t map every instance of aether travel–especially if it’s at a convergence. However, using it too often in one location might draw their attention and we don’t want to risk that.” $rupperheshe reaches out to indicate the buttons on your device. “This one will take you to me. The other is for Carter. The third is to bring you back here.” You frown at the device in your hand, your brow furrowing in thought. [[Next|ilchoice]]

You loiter in your room for a little longer, mostly in the vain hope that might dissuade $rname from being obnoxious. When you do finally step out into the hall, you catch only the tail-end of the conversation. "--your own business. Got that?" "I wasn't--" The conversation abruptly cuts off as you step into the living room. $rname is lazily sprawled out on the sofa, $rhisher head already turned toward you and $rheshe offers a smile. Carter is close to wearing a hole in the laminate with his pacing. $zname is just standing in the middle of the room, $zhisher hands clasped behind $zhisher back, and $zhisher posture rigid. Like a soldier. [["Who died?" you ask, just to break the silence.|3snark3][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[The tension is so thick in the air that your chest even feels heavy with it. "So, what are we doing today?"|3nice3][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[You have the same social graces as Carter. Which is to say, you have none. "What are we fighting about?"|3grump3][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

$rname pouts at you playfully and you roll your eyes. Now aware that you aren't going to humor $rhimher, $rhisher expression quickly sobers and $rheshe reaches for $rhisher waist, where a similar device is clipped to $rhisher belt. $rname shows it to you. “Unfortunately, these devices don’t allow for travel at will. Instead, you must tether them to specific locations or to other devices,” $rheshe explains. “More importantly, you should only use it in emergencies. MAB keeps an eye on this sort of thing.” “They can track it?” you ask. $rname nods. “They can. Fortunately, since they’re not the only ones with this technology and they can’t successfully police it, they don’t map every instance of aether travel–especially if it’s at a convergence. However, using it too often in one location might draw their attention and we don’t want to risk that.” $rupperheshe reaches out to indicate the buttons on your device. “This one will take you to me. The other is for Carter. The third is to bring you back here.” You frown at the device in your hand, your brow furrowing in thought. [[Next|ilchoice]]

Carter ignores your question. "I just called the station. Apparently, Casey was supposed to attend a party the night before she went missing. I want you to check out the spot where the party happened." You sigh. Your first instinct is to complain, but you know that won't do anything but delay the inevitable. Moreover, Casey doesn't have time for that. While the rest of the officers were no doubt hard at work while you and Carter were detoured, it'd already been a couple //days//. It depended on the circumstances, but the chances of finding a missing person dropped drastically after the first twenty-four hours and then to almost zero after seventy-two. "You think something happened at the party?" "Maybe," Carter replies. "And if something happened that made her decide to runaway, we need to know about it." "I'm guessing the search didn't turn up anything," you ask as you walk over to grab your coat from the hook near the door. "No. The dogs couldn't pick up anything and the searchers didn't find anything in the woods." Carter's lips pull into a thin, grim line. "Of course, there's the disappearing act she pulled in the woods, but we might end up just chasing ghosts. Stick with the physical and not the metaphysical." "Right," you murmur. "Well, no pressure or anything." He offers you a smirk, but there isn't any humor in his eyes. "Just do your best." [[Next|3next29]]

Carter ignores your question. "I just called the station. Apparently, Casey was supposed to go to a party the night before she went missing. I want you to check out the spot where the party happened." You sigh as your stomach sinks. There are a lot of factors to think about in a missing persons case--age of the victim, whether it was a family or a stranger abduction, location, etc. But //time// was the most vital. It was the thing that decided whether you were looking for a person or a body. "You think something happened at the party?" you ask "Maybe," Carter replies. "And if something happened that made her decide to runaway, we need to know about it." "I'm guessing the search didn't turn up anything," you say as you walk over to grab your coat from the hook near the door. "No. The dogs couldn't pick up anything and the searchers didn't find anything in the woods." Carter's lips pull into a thin, grim line. "Of course, there's the disappearing act she pulled in the woods, but we might end up just chasing ghosts if we try to sort that out first. Stick with the physical and not the metaphysical." You sigh. "I'll do what I can." Carter nods. "That's all I ask." [[Next|3next29]]

Carter ignores your question. "I just called the station. Apparently, Casey was supposed to go to a party the night before she went missing. I want you to check out the spot where the party happened." You sigh. You generally try not to be as cynical as you feel most of the time, but it's hard to ignore the basics facts. If Casey hadn't been found yet, she probably //wasn't// going to be found. If she was still out in the woods somewhere, then the freezing temps at night were going to get her. If someone had taken her then her chances dropped even further. "You think something happened at the party?" "Maybe," Carter replies. "And if something happened that made her decide to runaway, we need to know about it." "I'm guessing the search didn't turn up anything," you say as you walk over to grab your coat from the hook near the door. "No. The dogs couldn't pick up anything and the searchers didn't find anything in the woods ." Carter's lips pull into a thin, grim line. "Of course, there's the disappearing act she pulled in the woods, but we might end up just chasing ghosts. Stick with the physical and not the metaphysical." You give Carter a strained look that conveys all of your doubts without speaking a word. He sighs. "Just do what you can." [[Next|3next29]]

"Someone should accompany $himher," $zname says. "I can--" Carter shoots the younger agent a look and cuts $zhimher off. "$rname has that covered." $zname raises an eyebrow. "Let me rephrase: someone with a //badge// ought to accompany $himher. The testimony will be useless otherwise." Carter doesn't answer. Instead, $rname clicks $rhisher tongue as $rheshe removes a badge wallet from the inner pocket of $rhisher wool coat. $rupperheshe flips it open to show off the ID inside. $zname looks unimpressed. "What madman would give you a badge?" "Technically, it isn't a badge, but it is a license--from the government," $rname replies with a flat voice and a sarcastic little half-smile. "We'll be fine." [[Next|3next30]]

Before $zname can further the argument, Carter gestures from you to the door. "Get going." $rname easily springs to $rhisher feet and waves you ahead of him. "After you, $rpetname." You //know// just from the way $rheshe says it that $rheshe wants you to be annoyed with the nickname. So you do your best not to react and head out the front door. "You owe me," you say to Carter as you pass him. "Yeah, a paycheck," he replied. "Go do your job." ✤ ✤ ✤ [[Next|3next31]]

✤ ✤ ✤ “This is… quaint.” You glance over at $rname in the driver’s seat. It’s your car–an older truck that Carter raised from the dead one summer as a “project”, even though you barely drive. “Are you going to complain the whole time?” you ask. $rname motions to the windshield. The sky is little more than a gray haze that blends perfectly with the gray pavement and the dead, dry brown of the surrounding trees and fields. “I wouldn’t complain if there was anything to look at,” $rheshe replies. “How can you stand it here? Everything looks dead.” “Because it’s winter,” you say, making a face. $rname clicks $rhisher tongue in annoyance and glances over at you. “Is there any particular reason //you// can’t drive?” $rheshe asks. “I //can//. I just prefer not to.” “This conversation is starting to sound frighteningly familiar,” $rname scoffs. “Why do you //prefer// not to drive? Just another one of those skills you don’t like to practice?” You give $rhimher a flat look. “Have you ever been driving and then suddenly find yourself reliving the memory of a mother getting smeared across the pavement because some asshole ran a stop sign while she was out for her evening jog? Because I’m going to guess not.” [[Next|3next32]]

Something like regret briefly flashes in $rnamepos eyes and $rheshe glances over at you. $rupperheshe hesitates a moment and then asks, $rhisher tone softer: “Was that recent?” “No,” you say. “I was fifteen. Carter was teaching me how to drive and if he hadn’t been there to take control we’d have both died. Needless to say, it put a damper on the whole experience for me.” “I’m sorry you had to see that,” $rname replies with a surprising amount of sincerity. You shrug. “It’s not all bad. The accident was originally a hit and run. It was some desolate back road so there weren’t any traffic cameras or witnesses. But I saw the license plate. It took a lot of lying and jumping through hoops, but Carter eventually found the guy." Your companion nods, looking uncomfortable, and maybe for both your sakes $rheshe messily tries to change the subject. “Since we’re on the topic of your particular gifts…” $rupperheshe pauses to contemplate $rhisher words. “When did you realize you could do what you do?” [[Next|3next33]]

You furrow your brow. You’ve never really thought about it. It wasn’t like you just woke up one day accidentally making things levitate. Your powers came as naturally as breathing. “I just… knew I could? I mean, it just happened.” “It was instinct then?” $rheshe asks. You shrug. “I guess? Why?” $rname hums in understanding. “Interesting. So, you’ve never practiced? I suppose that explains some things.” “Like what?” you ask. You’re not sure if you’re genuinely curious or genuinely offended. On one hand, you’ve never had anyone you could actually discuss your powers with. Carter’s offered some helpful guidance over the years and he's always been a willing ear to listen to you complain, but he only understands this stuff in theory. You wonder if Carter would have introduced you to $rname sooner if you had said you wanted to meet other people like you. $rname glances briefly away from the road toward you again, one eyebrow raised incredulously. “You really have no scope of just how powerful you are, do you?” [[Next|3next34]]

[[“What exactly am I supposed to measure myself against?”|3snark35][$snark +=1]] ♤ "[[Uh... no?|3kind35][$kind +=1]] ♢" [[“Get to the point.”|3grumpy35][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

$rname sighs, somewhat dejectedly. “Ah, $rpetname, Carter has tried so hard to protect you that he’s inadvertently done the opposite.” "What are you talking about?" you ask. $rname gives you a look. "You. Your powers. You wield them like a cudgel," $rheshe says. "Which is fair, you don't know what you're capable of so you're guessing. But you could hurt yourself or someone else doing that. It’s one thing when you read an inanimate object–go wild, if you’d like. But slamming yourself full force against another’s psyche? If I were anyone else, you might have killed me.” [[Next|3nextskind36]]

$rname glances at you again. “All right, //fair//,” $rheshe says. “You did not even know there was a scale at all, let alone where you fell upon it. Though, it's surprising your luck has held out this long." "What are you talking about?" you ask with a sigh of exasperation. $rname sighs to mock you and gives you a sharp look. “You use your powers like you're seiging a castle," $rheshe says. "Which is, again, fair. You don't know what you're capable of so you're guessing. But if I were anyone else, you might have killed me.” [[Next|3nextsnark36]]

$rname clicks $rhisher tongue. “Still grouchy about that silly dream thing? That was ages ago.” “That was literally just yesterday,” you reply. “And I have much better reasons to be upset with you than the other way around,” $rheshe says. "It's a good thing you never developed a taste for snooping on others' thoughts. With the way you use your powers--if I was anyone else--you could have killed me." [[Next|3nextgrumpy36]]

Your heart sinks. "How would I kill someone?" "Painfully," $rname says. $rupperheshe looks over at you again and $rhisher expression sobers. <<if $kind gte 10>> "You're not the type to do that sort of thing intentionally and Carter probably thought that by not telling you, he was protecting you. Minds are malleable like that. We do what we believe we can." <<else>> "Of course, given your reaction, I don't believe you would ever do that sort of thing intentionally." "Why didn't Carter tell me that?" you ask. "Because we do what we believe we can. A psychic's mind can be their own shackle." $rupperheshe shrugs. "But you've outgrown ignorance as a shield. Carter probably knows that too. He just didn't know how else to help you."<</if>> "So what happens now that I know?" "Well, $rpetname, it means we can get to the fun stuff," $rname replies. "We practice." [[Next|3next37]]

You blink several times. "I'm sorry--//what//?" you ask. "What do you mean kill you?" "You work for the police, $rpetname. You know what 'kill' means," $rname replies, somewhat impatiently. $rupperheshe glances at you again. "You are remarkably powerful--to a degree that I've never personally witnessed. Now, it hardly matters if you use the full brunt of your power when you're reading objects or rooms--go wild. But when you slam yourself full force into someone's psyche there are going to be consequences--maybe not for you, but definitely for your target." It's still hard to fully take in and believe. But $rname sounds pretty certain and there's not a single trace of humor in $rhisher reaction. "Why didn't Carter ever tell me this?" "He might not have thought you were capable of it," $rname says with a shrug. "But more likely, he thought that not telling you //would// protect you. A psychic's mind can be their own shackle." "You're saying it's a 'clap your hands if you believe' thing?" you ask doubtfully. $rname shrugs. "Something like that, yes." "So what happens now that I know?" "Obviously, we practice." [[Next|3next37]]

"Bullshit," you argue, crinkling your nose. "Fine, don't believe me," $rname says with a shrug. "But when the time comes that you accidentally brush up against someone and they start to bleed into their own brain, please notify me so that I can say I told you so. I love being right." You give $rhimher a nasty look. "You're not serious." "You know, you're very confident for someone who doesn't know what they're doing," $rheshe scoffs back. "You throw your whole strength behind what you do, which is fine if you're reading a couch or a room, but slamming yourself full force into another's psyche--especially //your// full force--will cause irreparable damage if they can't protect themselves. And most people can't. But for as awful as it sounds, trust me, death is the //preferable// outcome in such a scenario." There isn't any teasing or condescenion in $rhisher tone--just impatient matter-of-factness. You wilt a little. You don't like it, but you have to admit that $rname is much more likely to know what $rheshe is saying than you do. "Why didn't Carter warn me?" you ask. $rname glances away from the road at you again and visibly deflates at the realization that you're asking a genuine question. "A psychic's mind can be used as their own shackle," $rheshe says. "Not telling you was meant to protect you. Carter didn't know how else to do that. He might not have even realized you were strong enough to hurt someone." "Okay, but what happens now that I know?" "Well, now we practice." [[Next|3next37]]

You don't answer $rname. You're too wrapped up in your own thoughts, torn between doubt in $rhimher and doubt in yourself. $rupperheshe seems to sense this. "I realize that I've given you little cause to believe me when I say this, but I sincerely want to help you," $rheshe says. "Why?" "If simply wishing to prevent harm to others isn't a sufficient reason, then you may call it scholarly interest. I find your abilities and the breadth of your range fascinating." You give $rhimher a sideways look. "I'm not a lab rat." $rname doesn't even acknowledge your protest. Instead, $rheshe goes on: "--And I also consider Carter a friend--mostly because it annoys him. So you might say it's a favor for him." You weren't sure if that was good enough. But could you really afford to tell $rhimher no? "Fine... I'll think about it." ✤ ✤ ✤ [[Next|3next38]]

✤ ✤ ✤ Dunwich was a lumber town back in the days of malaria and consumption. In the modern era, it’s just a long, boring drive from Port Gillain. The Powells’ farm sits just on its outskirts, but almost every other resident lives tightly clustered around the old downtown area that was built up around the railroad tracks. But you and $rname are not on your way into town. Instead, Carter’s directions take you out of Dunwich, past empty fields and into the thick of the woods. “So, this is really what country kids do for fun? They trek out into the woods to get drunk and ruin their shoes?” $rname asks as $rheshe pulls to a stop at the dead end of a muddy, gravel road. The surrounding trees are so close to the edge of the road that they block out the sun and unmelted frost clings to their trunks and branches. “Don’t ask me,” you scoff as you take off your seatbelt. “I was never invited to this kind of thing.” [[Next|3next39]]

You push open the passenger door with your foot and climb out. In the shade of the trees, the air feels even colder and crisper than before and you shove your hands into your pockets to warm them. “Why not?” $rname asks. You give $rhimher a look over your shoulder as $rheshe comes around from the other side of the car. “Because I was the weird kid some cop found in the middle of the road.” “They didn’t find that fascinating?” $rheshe asks, looking somewhat perplexed. [[“It didn’t make for the best icebreaker at parties,” you say.|3next40snark][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“Ah, no. They didn’t. Not that I really blame them.”|3next40kind][$kind +=1]] ♢ [["No, they didn't," you say. "Their loss, I guess."|3next40grump][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

“I take it they didn’t appreciate your stunning wit either?” $rname asks. $rupperheshe clicks $rhisher tongue. “Their loss.” [[You raise an eyebrow at that. "But not yours?" you ask.|3nextplay][$rplay +=1]] ♥ [[You blink in surprise, not quite sure you just heard that.|3nextshy41][$rshy +=1]] ♡ "[[I guess I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not.|3nextnosell41][$rnosell +=1]] ▲

$rname shrugs. “You should. It’s their loss,” $rheshe says. “You’re fascinating.” [[“Oh,” you say, briefly taken aback. You smile almost without meaning to. "Thank you. I think."|3nextplay412][$rplay +=1]] ♥ [["Oh..." The sound comes out involuntarily and you glance away. "Um, thanks."|3nextshy412][$rshy +=1]] ♡ [[“Ah… thanks,” you say, for once not quite knowing what else to say.|3nextnosellf412][$rnosell+=1]]▲

“I agree,” $rname replies. $rupperheshe shrugs when you give $rhimher a strange look. “The most dangerous animals in the world are always the most fascinating.” [[The compliment surprises a soft scoff of laughter out of you. “You have thrill issues,” you say as you turn away.|3nextplay413][$rplay +=1]] ♥ [["You know " + $rname + " means it as a compliment and it makes your face burn."|3nextshy413][$rshy +=1]] ♡ [["You think I'm dangerous?" you ask with a laugh.|3nextnosell413][$rnosell +=1]] ▲

You look away, mostly so you can avoid $rnamepos knowing smile, but also because you feel your face getting warm. “Let’s just get going.” From the corner of your eye, you can see just how pleased with themself $rname looks. $rupperheshe gestures toward the woods. "After you, $rpetname." [[Next|3next42]]

$rname presses $rhisher lips together to hide a smile and glances away. “Well, it wouldn’t be any fun to spar with an unarmed opponent.” You nod slowly as if in agreement. “You’re right,” you say eventually. “It’s not.” $rupperheshe gasps as if you’ve wounded $rhimher, but before you turn away you catch a glimpse of $rhisher sharp, answering grin. [[Next|3next42]]

$rname just smiles. "It is," $rheshe says. Then $rheshe gestures toward the woods. "After you, $rpetname. [[Next|3next42]]

$rname offers you a soft smile–softer than any other you’ve seen so far from $rhimher. Then $rheshe gestures toward the woods. “After you, $rpetname.” [[Next|3next42]]

“Did I embarrass you?” $rname asks. You shake your head. “No. I’ve just never heard that before.” “Now //that// is a pity,” $rheshe replies. “We’ll have to remedy that." [[Next|3next42]]

You haven't managed to really get a good read on $rname yet and $rheshe keeps finding new ways to throw you off. You're almost positive $rheshe would consider that a compliment. $rname just smiles and gestures to the woods. “After you.” [[Next|3next42]]

You fall in beside each other, trudging noisily through the brush and undergrowth. Carter’s instructions mention that the kids have marked the trees to point in the right direction to the party spot and you almost immediately spot the first one “How many missing persons cases have you worked on?” $rname asks after the silence becomes too pressing. “Too many,” you reply. “Probably more than a hundred by now. Most of the time, it’s just hikers and tourists getting turned around or wandering off the trails. Then someone calls it in, we go out with the search teams, and we find them.” $rupperheshe hums thoughtfully at that. “Sounds like you have a faerie problem,” $rheshe says. You raise an eyebrow at $rhimher. “Faeries?” $rname snorts and gives you a sideways look. “Yes. Faeries. And if you imagine small, cherubic creatures who grant wishes when you say that word, I’m afraid you’ve fallen prey to the greatest fae trick of them all. Fae, in reality, come in all shapes and forms and whether they are kind or malicious changes at a whim. Even then, their kindness is usually a trap. Leading wayward travelers astray–even to their deaths–is a very old game of theirs.” [[Next|3next43]]

You turn away and mumble quietly, “We should get going.” $rname smirks. “Lead the way.” [[Next|3next42]]

Behind you, you hear $rname laugh. “Is that a bad thing?” $rheshe calls after you. You don’t bother to answer and you don’t think $rheshe expects you too. [[Next|3next42]]

$rname grins. "I think you could be." You hold $rhisher gaze for a moment and then nod. "Good." $rupperheshe answers you with a laugh and then motions toward the woods. "You first, $rpetname. [[Next|3next42]]

“Carter’s never mentioned them,” you say with a frown. “And I’ve never picked up anything that seemed non-human.” “Oh, trust me, if there’s anything on this planet capable of hiding from your extra senses, it would certainly be fae,” $rname replies. “And you didn’t know that any of this nonsense was real until a few days ago, so of course Carter’s never mentioned it. Besides, if they meant to truly harm anyone, you’d never find the body.” You make a face as you process this information. Then, at length, you finally ask: “Do you think a fae might have taken Casey?” $rupperheshe makes a face to match. “It’s possible, I suppose,” $rheshe says. “It would make sense why she just seemed to vanish and why you didn’t detect anything else amiss. Still, it would be strange. If the girl was still on her family’s property, a fae would have had to be invited. In fact, that’s true of most wilder folk.” “You mean they wouldn’t have just taken her because it would be rude?” you ask, your tone incredulous and disbelieving. “Well… yes?” $rupperheshe shrugs. “Just as I’m sure your hikers were often targets because they trespassed somewhere they weren’t wanted or they did something seen as disrespectful. Fae do have rules. They don’t make any sense to you or me, but they exist.” [[Next|3next44]]

You frown to yourself. So, did Carter already rule out the chance of it being a fae and just forget to tell you? Or maybe he didn't want to throw too many wild guesses out there and taint your perception. “Are there other wilders that…?” You trail off, your words dying in your throat as you and $rname step into a clearing. At the center, there’s an old fire pit filled with long-cooled ashes and half-burned logs. Scattered all around amidst the brush and undergrowth are beer bottles and cans. But most notably, there’s a peculiar chill in the air. A hollowness. Like you just stepped into a vacuum. [[There's something wrong here, you just can't place it...|3logic3][$logic +=1]]✵ [[Your stomach sinks. Something feels wrong.|3nextintuit3][$intuit +=1]]❂

<<if $logic gte 4>> Somewhat belatedly you realize that the woods is silent and your blood goes cold. Ages ago, when Carter taught you some basic wilderness safety, one of your first lessons was that a //quiet// forest was a pleasant experience, but a //silent// one was deadly. You’re sharing space with something scarier than you and $rname. You can’t see or hear it, but the birds, the insects, and even the trees seem to. [[Next|3next45]]<<else>> $rname suddenly breaks the silence. "Do you hear that?" "I don't hear anything," you say, your voice dropping to a cautious whisper. $rupperheshe nods, $rhisher lips drawing into a thin, taut line. "Yes. Exactly." [[Next|3next45]] <</if>>

A shadow dances in the corner of your eye and even when you turn to chase it, it lingers in your periphery. Frowning, you stretch out your other senses to search for signs of life, only to cry out in agony as a blinding pain hits you. Your vision blurs and a deafening clicking, chattering, grinding sound roars in your ears. It's excrutiating and your eyes tear up as you try to cower away from it. $rname catches you and as soon as $rhisher hands touch you, everything stops. It's like being in $rhisher apartment again--like there's suddenly a wall between you and the noise. "Hold on to me," $rname says, $rhisher tone suddenly serious and stern. $rupperhisher grip is hard enough to bruise. "Don't let go." “I won't--I--something…” You trail off when you feel a wet trickle on your top lip When you reach up to touch it, your fingers come away bloody. “$rname?” $rname answers you only with a quiet, shuddering breath. <div style="text-align: center;"> <<timed 9s>> ... <</timed>> <<timed 12s>><h2>“<b>Ouy</b> era //t a h w//?” </h2><</timed>> <<timed 13s>>[[Next|3next46]] <</timed>> </div>

<<if $intuit gte 4>> There’s something else in the clearing with you. You can feel it just beyond the edge of your senses, like a dream you can’t remember or a smell you can’t place. You're being watched and a familiar shiver warns you to be careful. "$rname," you whisper. $rupperheshe nods. "I know. I feel it." [[Next|3next45]] <<else>> Something feels wrong, but just when you think you've wrapped your fingers around the reason, it's gone again. You feel a shiver of something warning you to be careful, but of what? "Do you feel that?" $rname asks, $rhisher voice nearly a whisper as if $rheshe was afraid to be overheard. "I feel //something//," you reply. "What is it?" $rname moves a step closer to you, $rhisher hand hovering over your shoulder. "We're not alone," $rheshe mutters. "Stay close." [[Next|3next45]] <</if>>

The voice seems to come from the woods around you, echoing and fluctuating strangely. You can feel it in your chest like the blow of a shockwave and $rname pulls you a step closer to $rhimher. “Ereht si ohw?” $rheshe barks. You can’t make any sense of what $rheshe just said, but $rhisher voice is sharp and full of authority. “Flesruoy wohs!” Backwards, you realize belatedly. $rupperheshe is talking backwards. A few, tense moments of silence pass. [[Next|3next47]]

<div style="text-align: center;"><<timed 3s>><h2> <b>"E r e h." </b></h2><</timed>> </div> <<timed 7s>> [[End Chapter 3|Begin 4]]<</timed>>

Once finished, you give yourself another once-over in the mirror. Your line of work doesn't really lend to being fussy, since your side of the job tends to involve a lot less office work and a lot more muddy treks through the woods. Which at least means that it doesn't take very long for you to get around. Although, <<link [[you still probably spent too much time on your hair.|3next26]]>> [\<<set $app to "nice hair">>]<</link>> <<link [[you wear a little too much eye-makeup.|3next26]]>> [\<<set $app to "eyeliner">>]<</link>> <<link [[you like to wear some kind of cologne or perfume.|3next26]]>> [\<<set $app to "perfume">>]<</link>> <<link [[Although nothing. You genuinely don't bother.|3next26]]>> [\<<set $app to "feral">>]<</link>>

The voice is suddenly closer, behind you, and you're frozen with fear. $rname glances back over $rhisher shoulder and then pulls you with $rhimher as $rheshe takes a few steps. You can’t help but follow $rhisher gaze. The sight that greets you is a shadow. Or something like a shadow. The form is solid and comprised of the blacket black you’ve ever seen. It absorbs all of the light, making it look almost two-dimensional–like a swath of fabric cut out of reality itself. The edges of the darkness twist and warp the air, like hot vapor rising off of pavement, but its form remains roughly humanoid. [[Next|4.2]]

Something about its mere presence grinds against your nerves, like something is steadily trying to bore its way into your mind. You cringe against the sensation and dig your fingers into the expensive wool of $rnamepos lapel. $rupperheshe lets out a quiet hiss and the sensation retreats. You’ve heard of shadow people before. It’s just one of those things that come up whenever someone gets talking about the weirdness around Herman County. There’s always someone who says they see something with the shape of a person peeking at them around corners or watching them from the dark. Something blacker than the black around it… But you’re realizing that it’s one thing to be //told// these things exist. And quite another to come face-to-face with it. [[Next|4.3]]

“Ouy denommus ohw?” $rname asks. There’s a brief pause in which the shadow seems to simply observe you. You might be imagining it, but you think you see it tilt its head in curiosity. “No one,” it says, finally. Its speech is short and halting, with multiple voices layered over one another, some higher and others speaking backwards, forming a distorted chorus that wavers in pitch and cadence. “We were here long before your birth–//creation//–//c o n c e p t i o n// and we will persist long after your <b>death</b>.” [[“Charming,” you mutter to yourself.|4.3s][$snark +=1]] ♤ [["You take a wary step closer to " + $rname |4.3k][$kind +=1]]. ♢ [["Just when I thought this week couldn’t get weirder," you mutter|4.3g.][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

A popping, staticky sound fills the air and from the corner of your eye, you can see other shadows darting between the trees around the clearing. Is the popping sound how they communicate? Or is it produced by their presence? Then: “Ch<b>arm</b>// i n g//.” Your stomach sinks at the sound of your own voice echoing back at you. $rname pulls you back another step. “You were either brought here or drawn here. Who was it?” $rheshe asks. [[Next|4.4]]

A popping, staticky sound fills the air and from the corner of your eye, you can see other shadows darting between the trees around the clearing. Is the popping sound how they communicate? Or is it produced by their presence? “<b>E m a n</b> //sah// ti?” it asks. There’s a pause and then a different voice clarifies: “//It// has <b>n a m e</b>?” “Don’t answer it,” $rname cuts in. “You speak to me, shade. Not $himher. Who brought you here?” [[Next|4.4]]

A popping, staticky sound fills the air and from the corner of your eye, you can see other shadows darting between the trees around the clearing. Is the popping sound how they communicate? Or is it produced by their mere presence? Or… is it //laughing//? $rname pulls you another step back. “You were either brought here or drawn here. Who was it?” [[Next|4.4]]

There’s more chittering and popping, then the shade answers: “We were invited by the pretenders–<b>the toys</b>–the //c h i l d r e n//.” “The pretenders?” $rname presses. “Who are they?” The shade’s form shifts a little and you get the sense that it’s becoming impatient. “//The ones t h a t pretend//. They play with forces beyond their ken. <b>They are foolish</b>.” “Maybe Casey’s friends,” you suggest. “A bunch of drunk teenagers gathering around a bonfire and trying to summon something? Is that a country thing too?” $rname asks. “It’s more of a Herman County thing. Carter and the others alway find a bunch of kids doing seances in the graveyard around Halloween,” you reply. You squint at the shadow, trying to summon your nerve. “We’re looking for a girl who’s gone missing. She was here. Did you take her?” [[Next|4.5]]

There’s another burst of static and popping. “<b>//No//</b>,” it says eventually. $rname shakes $rhisher head. “Do you know who took her?” $rheshe clarifies. “They were here a few days ago. Your presence isn’t a coincidence.” The chittering suddenly falls quiet and the sudden silence settles over the woods feels overwhelming. “The exile,” the shade says suddenly and underlining the words is a cacophony of other voices–like a crowd of people struggling to be heard all at once. You and $rname share a look between yourselves. “Who is the exile?” $rheshe asks. The chittering grows louder, like the cresting of a wave, before it dies off again. The shade’s answer comes a moment later–short and succinct: “//That// //i s// unknown.” [[Next|4.6]]

“What do you mean it’s unknown?” you ask. You can feel it when the shade’s attention turns toward you. “Our knowledge is <b>unified</b>–collected–//c o a l e s c e d//. //Memory//–<b>thought</b>–idea of the exile has been purged–<b>removed</b>–//e r a d i c a t e d//.” “Then how do you know there is an exile?” you demand, your fear giving way to incredulity. “It either exists or it doesn’t!” The shade tips its head again. “Its binary concept of existence is narrow–<b>simple</b>–//i g n o r a n t//. The exile seeks to be something new. So it is no longer.” [[Next|4.7]]

“That is unsurprisingly unhelpful,” $rname mutters. $rupperheshe glances over at you. “Can you sense anything?” You gesture at your face. “I’m not keen to try again just now,” you say and you give the shade a sour look. You’re answered at first by a wave of quiet chittering and then: “If it is //willing// to <b>m a k e</b> an exchange–” “No,” $rname cuts in sharply. “No exchanges. No deals. Just leave. You’re released.” The static popping and chittering begins again, as if the shade wishes to argue, but it dies off quickly. Then, in a blink, the shade is gone. [[Next|4.8]]

The strange pall created by the shade's presence immediately lifts and the air feels instantly lighter. A weight you hadn’t even realized was crushing you is gone and you tentatively reach out a little with your other senses again, relieved to find there’s no more resistance or pain. $rname is silent for a few moments before, as if to make sure the shades are gone. Then $rheshe turns to you. “Are you okay?” [[Next|4.9]]

[[You snort. “I mean, I’m not dead,” you say. “Also what--from the bottom of my heart-- the fuck was that?”|4.10][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“I–yeah, sure,” you say uneasily. “What was that thing?”|4.10][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[You don’t even bother answering the question. “What the hell was that?!”|4.10][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

$rname shakes $rhisher head. $rupperheshe looks suddenly tired and somehow older. “Shadow people–shades–watchers–//brollachan//–they have a lot of names,” $rheshe explains as $rheshe begins to rummage around $rhisher coat pockets. “They’re–aha!” $rupperheshe pulls a fistful of what looks like coins from $rhisher pocket and begins to sift through them. “They’re related to Unseelie. Or that’s the running theory these days. I don’t think the Shadow Court actually claims them. Regardless, they shouldn’t be trusted. Ever. I didn’t expect to find them here.” You watched as $rname chooses one coin of the bunch and then drops it into the fire pit before covering it with ashes. “Cool. Also, have no idea what you just said or what you’re doing,” you reply. $rname rolls $rhisher eyes as $rheshe kneels down and begins drawing sigils in the dirt around the fire pit with a half-charred stick. “Fae are either Seelie or Unseelie, meaning they either belong to the Morning or the Shadow Court, but don’t let the distinction fool you. They’ll both hang you from a tree by your intestines for a lark,” $rheshe explains. $rupperheshe gestures with the stick. “As for this, it’s to prevent poorly supervised idiots from drawing more of those things here and to sever whatever bindings they made.” You jump at the sound of a sudden hiss from the woods all around you. $rname doesn’t acknowledge it, but you shuffle a step closer to $rhimher on instinct. [[Next|4.11]]

“Do we need to worry about how they managed that in the first place?” you ask, folding your arms to comfort yourself. $rname hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think so,” $rheshe says. “Shades will answer just about any summoning if there’s something to be gained. We should keep an ear out for any other strange activity, though.” You raise an eyebrow. “Like what?” “Hauntings, strange sightings, other disappearances, unusual deaths–that sort of thing,” $rheshe replies. “That sounds like an average weekend in Port Gillain,” you reply in a deadpan. $rname gives a soft scoff of laughter. “Right, well on a scale of malevolence from ‘spoiling your milk’ to ‘flaying you alive to cherish your screaming’, shades are the type to lead you off a cliff,” $rheshe replies offhandedly. $rupperheshe gestures to the woods again. “Try another reading now that it’s gone.” [[Next|4.12]]

You make a face and pointedly wipe at your still-persistent nosebleed. $rname sighs and stands up. $rupperheshe tosses the stick to the side and then reaches into $rhisher breast pocket for a clean handkerchief. “I promise it’s gone,” $rheshe says as $rheshe hands you the cloth. Then $rheshe gestures at you. “May I?” "[[Are you worried about me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.|4.12rb][$rplay +=1]] ♥ [["You frown, not sure what " + $rheshe + " means but give a tentative nod."|4.12rs][$rshy +=1]] ♡ [[You wipe the blood off your top lip and nod.|4.12rns][$rnosell +=1]] ▲

$rname smiles and after you’ve wiped the blood from your top lip, $rheshe steps closer and takes your head gently between $rhisher hands. $rupperheshe takes a moment to examine your eyes and then tips your head one way and then the other to check your ears. $rupperheshe clicks $rhisher tongue. “Your ears are bloody too. Damned things. Are you having trouble hearing?” You can feel your cheeks burning. “No?” $rname smirks at you. “You don’t sound very sure of that,” $rheshe says. Then, as if deciding to be merciful, $rheshe drops $rhisher hands back to $rhisher sides. “There doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage. We can get you checked later. But please–a reading.” “I–” “I will be right here,” $rheshe cuts in gently. “I won’t let them hurt you.” [[Next|4.13]]

You give a reluctant sigh and tentatively reach out with your other senses a little further than before. There’s a mottled collage of auras lingering by the firepit that coalesce into vague, almost-human shaped specters, but there are so many and they overlap to such a degree that it’s hard to discern any details. You hear some phantom laughter and rowdy, inaudible conversation underlined by a strange buzz, but it’s all too distorted to make out anything specific. You make a face. “They must all come out here pretty regularly to party,” you say. “There are too many leftovers–I can’t pick Casey out of the crowd. She must not have actually come the other day or she’d be more distinct.” “Given the sort of company that was invited, that might be for the best,” $rname replies. “But I’m afraid that doesn’t give us a lot to go on from here.” [[Next|4.14]]

$rname scoffs, sounding playfully offended as you wipe the blood off your top lip. When you're done, $rheshe takes your head in $rhisher hands and gently tips it from one side to the other to examine your ears. “I’m worried about what Carter might do to me if I do not return you to him in one piece,” $rheshe mutters. This is followed by a soft curse. “Your ears are bloody too. Damned things. Are you having trouble hearing?” “No and Carter’s a teddy bear,” you reply as you dab at the nosebleed. “Well… a teddy bear if it was made of barbed wire, but still.” $rupperheshe barks out a laugh in reply, a small smile pulling at the corner of $rhisher lips. “I suspect you see more of the teddy bear than the barbed wire,” $rheshe says. Then $rheshe gestures meaningfully to the woods again. “Another attempt, if you please.” [[Next|4.13]]

$rname gently takes your head between $rhisher hands and tips it from one side to the other to check your ears. “Your ears are bloody too. Damned things. Are you having trouble hearing?” “No, they’re just throbbing a little,” you reply as $rname drops $rhisher hands back to $rhisher sides. “Should I be worried?” “If you aren’t having any trouble hearing then I doubt there’s been any real damage done,” $rname says with a shrug. $rupperheshe gestures to the woods again. “Another attempt, please.” [[Next|4.13]]

You go to agree, but then pause. “What about the exile they–it–whatever–mentioned?” you ask. $rname hums. “I’m hesitant to believe anything said by a shade,” $rheshe says. “But that does seem to be our only lead now, doesn’t it? And it would certainly explain why Casey simply vanished. Fae can naturally apparate themselves and others. If nothing else, it could have hidden her from you.” “Okay, but how are we supposed to find them?” you ask. “And that’s even assuming that Casey’s alive.” “We can’t go forward assuming the worst,” $rname replies, shaking $rhisher head. “We’ll start with the exile. Fortunately, a single shade separated from its collective wouldn’t be very powerful, which means they can’t have taken her far if they did take her. It also can’t constantly conceal her.” [[Next|4.15]]

“Which doesn’t do us any good unless we have a starting point.” $rname shakes $rhisher head. “But we do. We know where she went missing.” You raise an eyebrow. “So, you want to go to the Powells’ next?” $rupperheshe scoffs. “Do you really want to be in these woods after dark with those things? No, no. I have a different idea.” ✤ ✤ ✤ [[Next|4.16]]

✤ ✤ ✤ Going back to the cabin with $rname feels weird–to say the least. You aren’t used to having company other than Carter, which is why you’re kind of glad that $rname seems content with quiet. In fact, all $rheshe does is sit down in the middle of the living room and close $rhisher eyes. You glance at $rhimher a few times as you make yourself a snack. “So, how do you know Carter?” you ask, finally giving in to the curiosity that's been pestering you for a while.. “Did you work for MAB too?” $rname huffs out a laugh, though $rheshe doesn’t open $rhisher eyes. “Oh, they wish,” $rheshe says. “I’m lucky enough to have reached something of an understanding with them.” You raise an eyebrow at that. “What understanding?” “That they’re better off ignoring my existence,” $rname replies. “Don’t let Carter’s involvement with MAB fool you into believing their facade of benevolence. There’s a reason he left. They’re better than the rest of their ilk, but that bar is quite low.” [[Next|4.17]]

You frown as you come around the kitchen counter. “There are other organizations like MAB?” you ask as you approach and sit down on the floor in front of $rhimher, setting your plate to the side. $rname nods. “Of course. They’re far from the only people who make it their job to interfere with the supernatural,” $rheshe says. $rupperheshe then scoffs. “And they all claim to have the moral high ground. But that’s a topic for another time. For now, let’s focus on our current task. Take my hands.” You give $rhimher a doubtful look. “Didn’t we already do this?” “Consider this part of that practice I mentioned you being in such dire need of,” $rname replies wryly. “Don’t worry. I know what to expect this time so in theory neither of us should regret this.” [["In theory?" you repeat skeptically.|4.17s][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[You make a face. "You know I'd rather not hurt you, right?"|4.17k][$kind +=1]] ♢ [["You give " + $rhimher + " a deadpan, disbelieving look."|4.17g][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

"You needn't be so cynical, $rpetname," $rname scolds you gently. "Have a little faith." $rupperheshe wiggles $rhisher fingers impatiently, motioning for you to just play along. You're half-tempted to point out that all you've had is //faith//. Still, you sigh and scoot a little closer to slide your hands into $rhishers. Being deliberate about it helps you ignore the initial, brief tug on your senses. “Now what?” $rname shifts a little, $rhisher eyes still closed. “Now we’re going to try a little astral projection.” “You’re saying that like I should know what you’re talking about," you mutter. $rupperheshe sighs. “Which is why I’m teaching you, isn’t it?” “Is it? Because I figured you were just trying to be a pain.” [[Next|4.18]]

"It's sweet of you to worry for me, $rpetname," $rname says with a half-smile. "But have a little faith." You almost remind $rhimher that you have a very good reason to worry, but hold it in. Instead, you scoot a little closer and slide your hands into $rhishers. "All right. Now what?" $rname shifts a little, $rhisher eyes still closed. “Now we’re going to try a little astral projection.” [[Next|4.18]]

"Ah, humor me, $rpetname," $rname says with an annoying grin pulling at the corner of $rhisher lips. "What's the worst that can happen?" You want to point out that $rheshe is probably better equipped to answer that than you are, but you bite your tongue. You scoot a little closer and slide your hands into $rhishers. "Fine. Now what?" $rname shifts a little, $rhisher eyes still closed. “Now we’re going to try a little astral projection.” You roll your eyes. "Oh, is that all?" “If you can’t do it–” “You know I can hurt you,” you reply. “Don’t tempt me.” [[Next|4.18]]

$rname clicks $rhisher tongue impatiently, signaling the end of the discussion. “Close your eyes.” You sigh, but obey. “All right, they’re closed. What now?” “Picture where the girl went missing,” $rname replies. “Try to see it with your mind’s eye.” Well, that’s not hard at least. You picture the old farmhouse and its white siding, the many out-buildings, and the large, grassy yard. In your mind’s eye, you follow Casey’s trail from the house into the woods to the point where it terminates. You flinch at the feeling of another presence gently pulling on you. It’s $rname. You can feel $rhisher energy–that strange, bright aura–weaving around yours, forming a buzz of energy between your joined hands. At the same time, you’re met with an odd resistance, like something is holding you back—like the shades had. Confusion makes you falter and the connection between you fizzles out. [[Next|4.19]]

“No, no,” $rname scolds you, holding tight to your hands when you try to pull away. “Don’t back down. Match me.” “How?” you ask. “You’re blocking me.” “I’m pushing back, because I’m not terribly fond of being psychically beaten to death, yes. I’m hardly blocking you.” “I don’t know–” $rname clicks $rhisher tongue again. “That’s why it’s practice. You’ve been spoiled by your own strength. You’ve never had to try.” You huff in frustration, but relent and close your eyes again. You can feel $rhimher again as $rheshe reaches out to you and you struggle to figure out how to reach back without doing exactly what $rheshe told you not to. [[Next|4.20]]

[[You focus on what you already know.|4.20lc]]✵ [[You try to imagine it like turning on a tap or flexing a muscle|4.20ic]]❂

<<if $logic gte 5>>Despite what $rname says, you //do// have some control over your powers. After all, you can block most things out. It was more difficult when you were younger, but as you got older you also gained strength and control. It was one of the only good things brought on by your high school experience. Nothing encouraged learning control quite like sitting in a classroom with hormone-riddled teenagers whose internal monologues were practically on speakerphone. So really what $rname is asking you to do shouldn’t be all that different. In theory, at least. It //should// just be a matter of letting that control slip just a little at a time. It takes you a few false starts and bumping up against $rnamepos barrier, but eventually it happens–like a puzzle piece slotting into place. You feel the moment your energy connects to $rnamepos and follow the gentle pull… [[Next|4.21]] <<else>>Despite what $rname says, you //do// have some control over your powers. After all, you can block most things out. It was more difficult when you were younger, but as you gained strength you also gained control. It was one of the only good things brought on by your high school experience. Nothing encouraged learning control quite like sitting a classroom with a bunch of hormone-riddled teenagers whose internal monologues were practically on speakerphone. Still, you struggle. It’s easy enough to picture what you want to do in your head, but harder to put into action. It feels like you’re either not doing anything at all or bumping up against $rnamepos barrier. <<link [[Next|4.20Lfail]]>>[\ <<set $trancecheck to "fail">> ] <</link>> <</if>>

<<if $intuit gte 5>>Despite what $rname says, you //do// have some control over your powers. After all, you can block most things out. It was more difficult when you were younger, but as you got older you also gained strength and control. It was one of the only good things brought on by your high school experience. Nothing encouraged learning control quite like sitting in a classroom with hormone-riddled teenagers whose internal monologues were practically on speakerphone. You try to imagine it like turning on a tap or flexing a muscle, which is easy to picture but hard to follow through with. You never tried to portion out your strength and use only a little bit at a time. You never really considered that possible, let alone necessary. But slowly, bit by bit, it comes. Your energy connects tentatively with $rnamepos and you follow its gentle pull... [[Next|4.21]] <<else>> Despite what $rname says, you //do// have some control over your powers. After all, you can block most things out. It was more difficult when you were younger, but as you gained strength you also gained control. It was one of the only good things brought on by your high school experience. Nothing encouraged learning control quite like sitting a classroom with a bunch of hormone-riddled teenagers whose internal monologues were practically on speakerphone. You try to imagine it like turning on a tap or flexing a muscle, but you struggle to follow through. It’s easy enough to picture what you want to do in your head, but harder to put into action. It feels like you’re either not doing anything at all or bumping up against $rnamepos barrier. <<link [[Next|4.20Ifail]]>>[\ <<set $trancecheck to "fail">> ] <</link>> <</if>>

For the next hour or so, you and $rname sit in silence as you struggle. It feels like you’re getting nowhere and $rnamepos silence is making it worse. $rupperheshe isn’t guiding or instructing you except for how $rheshe pushes back against your energy when you come at $rhimher too strongly. "Do you have a plan B? Because I'm getting really tired of plan A," you mutter. $rname sighs. "I never said it would be easy," $rheshe says. "But... I suppose, Cathy-- "--Casey," you correct $rhimher. $rupperheshe waves a hand dismissively. "--Casey doesn't have a lot of time. Assuming she's even still alive. So, we'll take a shortcut." "Finally," you say, opening your eyes. "What's the shortcut?" [[Next|l20lfail2]]

$rname sits up enough to rummage around in $rhisher trouser pocket and withdraws a pocket watch on a long chain. It's silver with little blue gems inlaid in the cover. "You're going to hynotize me?" you ask, somewhat skeptically. "Something like that," $rname says. "I'll induce a trance and then I will step in as I did with your dream." You don't know if you like the sound of that, but you're also not big on the idea of sitting here for another hour banging your head against the wall. "Fine. What do you need me to do?' $rname raised the watch and begins to gently swing it back and forth like a pendulum. "Just what I said before," $rheshe says. "Think about where Casey disappeared. Picture it in your mind." Something strange happens to $rhisher voice halfway through the sentence. It thrums and resonates and your skin flushes with goosebumps in response. In your mind's eye, you picture the Powells' house. You remember your walkthrough of the house and following the trail across the backyard to the woods. "Do you have it?" $rname asks. "Yes." It comes out as a half-whisper, like you don't quite have full control of your voice anymore. Everything feels heavier. Your eyelids, your arms, your thoughts... "Good." The single word is puncuated by the sharp snap of $rhisher fingers and your vision goes dark. [[Next|4.21]]

// You are in the woods. It takes a moment to collect yourself amidst the dreamlike haze that makes everything run together like watercolor. It isn’t real, but you marvel at the sensation of the cold air against your skin and the sound of the wind rustling the underbrush. At the same time, you can feel your body and the press of the living room laminate against the back of your legs. But it’s all remote. Detached. “Is this how you experienced that memory when you read me?”// [[Next|4.22]]

For the next hour or so, you and $rname sit in silence as you struggle. It feels like you’re getting nowhere and $rnamepos silence is making it worse. $rupperheshe isn’t guiding or instructing you except for how $rheshe pushes back against your energy when you come at $rhimher too strongly. "Do you have a plan B? Because I'm getting really tired of plan A," you mutter. $rname sighs. "I never said it would be easy," $rheshe says. "But... I suppose, Cathy--" "--Casey." $rupperheshe waves a hand dismissively. "--Casey doesn't have a lot of time. Assuming she's even still alive. So, we'll take a shortcut." "Finally," you say, opening your eyes. "What's the shortcut?" [[Next|l20Ifail2]]

$rname sits up enough to rummage around in $rhisher trouser pocket and withdraws a pocket watch on a long chain. It's silver with little blue gems inlaid in the cover. "You're going to hynotize me?" you ask, somewhat skeptically. "Something like that," $rname says. "I'll induce a trance and then I will step in as I did with your dream." You don't know if you like the sound of that, but you're also not big on the idea of sitting here for another hour banging your head against the wall. "Fine. What do you need me to do?' $rname raised the watch and begins to gently swing it back and forth like a pendulum. "Just what I said before," $rheshe says. "Think about where Casey disappeared. Picture it in your mind." Something strange happens to $rhisher voice halfway through the sentence. It thrums and resonates and your skin flushes with goosebumps in response. In your mind's eye, you picture the Powells' house. You remember your walkthrough of the house and then following the trail across the backyard to the woods. "Do you have it?" $rname asks. "Yes." It comes out as a half-whisper, like you don't quite have full control of your voice anymore. Everything feels heavier. Your eyelids, your arms, your whole body... "Good." The single word is puncuated by the sharp snap of $rhisher fingers and your vision goes dark. [[Next|4.21]]

//You turn toward the sound of $rnamepos voice, surprised to see $rhimher just standing there. $rupperheshe isn’t susceptible to the same dreamy blur as everything else and is instead sharply defined and clear to you, like $rheshe is standing against a misty backdrop. “Yes,” you say. “Is this a dream? Or a memory?” “Yes,” $rname replies, unhelpfully. $rupperheshe is busy studying the trail left behind by Casey’s aura, running $rhisher fingers through the colored mist as if expecting it to rub off on $rhimher. “This is// fascinating//. Is this really how you see the world? So vividly?” You shrug, still trying to ground yourself. “I usually try to block it out.”// [[Next|4.23]]

//“Still…” $rnamepos voice trails off thoughtfully as $rhisher attention turns to the point at which Casey’s trail disappears. “I see you weren’t exaggerating when you said she simply vanished.” You glance back at $rhimher only briefly before your attention returns to the clearing. The trees and undergrowth blend together in dappled shades of brown and gray and the sky above is a stark, shocking blue. You can almost smell the woods–that scent of damp moss and decaying wood, underlined by the sharpness of winter. $rname doesn’t seem to need your input anyway. Instead, $rheshe continues, mostly speaking to $rself: “Your powers are so uniquely adaptive. We will have to explore the possibilities further some other time. If you could experience other’s memories with this level of detail…” $rupperheshe trails off, seemingly distracted by something on the ground. $rupperhisher expression abruptly falls. “Well… shit.”// [[Next|4.232]]

//You move closer to crouch down at $rhisher side. It’s hard to tell at first what $rheshe is looking at, but then you see it. A faint shimmer. Like a fine, powdery glitter mixed into the dirt. You reach to touch it and rub some of it between your fingertips, feeling the grit of the earth against your skin. “What is it?” you ask. “Spent magic,” $rname replies with a sigh. “Unseelie //and// Seelie.” “Is that… bad?” “Do you mean, is it bad when two immortal, sworn enemies meet in conflict? Because yes, $rpetname, it’s bad,” $rheshe says as $rheshe straightens again. “As a rule of thumb, everything’s bad when it involves the fae.” “Okay, but that doesn’t make any sense,” you protest. “Why Casey? She’s just a kid–a normal one. How did she get tangled up–?” You’re cut off by a shrill ring.// ✤✤✤ [[Next|4.25]]

✤✤✤ Your eyes snap open and your body jolts, like you’re waking suddenly from a dead sleep. The room is spinning and it takes you a second to get your bearings. You’re back–still?–in the living room with $rname. Your legs feel stiff and when you glance out the window you see that night’s fallen. How long were you sitting there? The phone rings again and you stagger to your feet. Moving makes the dizziness worse, but you manage to reach the kitchen cupboard and grab the phone from the hook on the wall. “Hello?” you ask, leaning back against the countertop to catch your balance. It feels like you’re standing on the deck of a boat. //“Kid? You sound awful. Where are you?”// [[Next|4.26]]

Carter’s voice is reassuring to hear, even as you sink dizzily to the floor. “I’m–it’s fine. I’m home,” you say, shaking your head. You immediately regret it as the world lists to one side. “Ugh–what’s up? What’s wrong?” //“You and $rname need to get down to the station. I just got a call from one of the deputies–they found Casey Powell.”// ✤✤✤ [[Next|4.27]]

✤✤✤ Despite the fact that Herman County itself is relatively big and spread out, most of its towns are pretty small–too small to justify their own individual police departments. So there are county police outposts dotted around to fill the gap. The largest–which was a deceptive way to describe the building that was barely bigger than a double-wide–is in Port Gillain. [[Next|4.28]]

$rname holds the door for you and waves you in ahead of $rhimher. “Are you sure you’re alright?” $rheshe asks quietly when $rheshe follows. [["Sure, yeah," you say dryly. "It was just an out-of-body experience. No biggie."|4.282][$snark +=1]] ♤ [["I'm fine," you say, waving a hand. "Don't worry about it."|4.282][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[You sigh. "Would you quit fussing? If I'm still standing, I'm fine."|4.282][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

You’ve been a staple around the department since Carter first took you in. As a kid, you spent more than one night on the couch in Carter’s office, did your homework in the breakroom, and badgered the officers to buy stuff from your school fundraisers. What you actually do for the department is up for debate, especially among the officers that don’t believe the whole ‘psychic’ thing, but you’ve been Carter’s shadow for so long that no one questions your presence regardless. “Where’d they find her?” you ask as you fall in beside Carter. You wave to a few of the other officers who are lingering at their desks or trying to idle away the last few minutes of their shifts. A few of them wave back. “She was on the edge of the freeway, trying to flag down drivers,” Carter explains as he leads the way down a side hall, away from the main office where everyone’s desks are jammed together as best as they can fit. “Someone recognized her and called us.” “Have you called the family?” $rname asks. [[Next|4.30]]

Carter shakes his head. “Not yet. Her story isn’t making a lot of sense and I’m afraid that once we notify the parents we’ll never figure out what happened. If she just ran off on her own for a few days, then fine. But if someone else was involved and she’s hiding it…” The interview room is in the back of the building, barely larger than a supply closet. Inside, there’s a little folding table and two chairs and through the pane of one-way glass in the hallway you can see Casey pacing around. The girl’s clothes are perfectly clean and her hair is well-kempt and tied back in a ponytail. Nothing about her appearance indicates that she’s spent any time in the woods over the last few days. $zname is standing beside the observation window, looking in on the girl, with $zhisher hands folded behind $zhisher back. $zupperheshe glances briefly at you and Carter and offers a quiet smile, but $zhisher attention returns quickly to the window. [[Next|4.31]]

“$zname thinks there’s something wrong,” Carter says. “Why?” you ask, looking at the agent for an answer. $zname simply shrugs. $zupperhisher demeanor is relaxed and at ease, but $zhisher gaze is laser focused on the girl on the other side of the glass. “I can’t explain it,” $zheshe answers you after a pause. “It is not so much a rational thought as it is more of a feeling.” You follow $zhisher gaze back to Casey. At first blush, she looks just like she did during your walkthrough of the Powells’ house. This is definitely the teenager you saw dancing around her bedroom and sneaking out her window. But you can’t shake the sudden feeling that there’s something else at play… [[Next|4.32]]

<h3><b>Symbol Key</b></h3> //<u>Reasoning:</u> ✵ - Logic ❂ - Intuition// //<u>Dialogue</u>//: ♤ - //Snarky/Sardonic// ♢ - //Amiable/Optimistic// ♧ -// Irritable/Stubborn// //<u>Flirting</u>//: ♥ - //Playful/Bold// ♡ - //Shy/Cautious// ▲ - //Unflirt/Neutral// ^^ (This option does not disqualify the player from any of the romance paths)^^ //<u>Dealing with the Kestrel</u>// ✿ - //Aggression// 🏵 - //Diplomacy// <b><h3>Glossary of Terms</h3></b> <div class="myDiv"><b>Aether Travel //(Aportation, Aporting)//</b></div> A method of instant, magical transportation that bends the space between leylines. Some creatures, like the Fae, are capable of aporting at will. <div class="myDiv"><b>Astral Projection</b> </div> The ability to project one's subconscious/soul outside of one's body. Often works in tandem with remote viewing. <div class="myDiv"><b>Balor</b></div> The name of an ancient enemy of the Fae people, whose legacy lives on as a title of both respect and fear. The name means "deadly one". <div class="myDiv"><b>Brollachan(Shades/Shadow People)</b></div>Non-corporeal beings seemingly made of darkness. Shades are a collective conscious of many "individuals" that act in tandem as a cohesive whole. <div class="myDiv"><b>Changeling</b></div> A type of fae creature known for their ability to mimic others. They are considered weak and are one of the few mortal creatures among the Courts. Changelings are known mostly for taking on the appearance of children or infants. Sometimes this is an act of malice meant to hurt the parents and in other instances changelings do this as a means of survival. <div class="myDiv"><b>Dreamwalkers/Dreamwalking</b></div>Dreamwalkers can passively spy on someone's dreams or even actively participate. Some dreamwalkers are powerful enough to induce trances and construct dreams from wholecloth. Dreamwalkers can blur the line between reality and dreams, making their victims unable to tell the difference between them. Dreamwalking is a revered gift among the Fae and almost unheard of among humans. Many magics can mimic dreamwalking, but will never fully empower their users with all of the abilities of an actual dreamwalker. <div class="myDiv"><b>Fae</b> </div>A type of wilder folk. Fae come in many shapes, being both corporeal and not, monstrous and humanoid. The Courts are the closest thing to a government or ruling body the Fae have and the rivalry between the Courts is dangerous to all who become swept up in their affairs. <p>//<b>Seelie:</b> The Seelie, or the fae of the Morning Court, are often considered the "good" Fae. However, their kindness and charity are susceptible to their whims--oftentimes making them even more dangerous than their counterparts. <b>Unseelie:</b> The Unseelie, or the fae of the Shadow Court, are often perceived as more dangerous and cruel than their cousins of the Morning Court. They are only truly governed by chaos and little else. //</p> <div class="myDiv"><b>Fae Wine</b> </div> A potent, magical drink that affects perception. It is said to put those who imbibe under the control of the Fae. <div class="myDiv"><b>Friend of the Court</b> </div> The title given to those who are welcomed by the Fae and looked upon fondly by one (rarely both) of the Courts. As the Fae are nortoriously capricious, they both give and revoke their affection at a whim. Someone favored by the Fae one moment might be discarded the next. It is often said that to be a friend of the Fae is even more dangerous than being their enemy. <div class="myDiv"><b>MAB</b></div> The Magic and Anomalies Bureau is the extra-governmental agency responsible for the monitoring, cataloguing, and policing of the supernatural. <div class="myDiv"><b>Paranaturals</b></div> Used to describe any human with anomalous abilities. This includes witches, psychics, werewolves, and many others. <div class="myDiv"><b>Prescience</b></div> The rare ability to predict things that have not yet happened. <div class="myDiv"><b>Psyche</b></div> The psyche refers to the unseen, internal, metaphysical self---also known as the soul, the spirit, the mind, etc. Psychics are capable of manipulating this metaphysical self---both their own and others'. <div class="myDiv"><b>Psychics</b></div> A catchall term for paranatural individuals who are capable of manipulating the psyche. Psychics can possess one or more of the following abilities: prescience, telekinesis, psychokinesis, telepathy, remote viewing, astral projection, precognition, retrocognition, psychometry. This list is not considered exhaustive. <div class="myDiv"><b>Remote Viewing</b></div> The ability of a psychically gifted individual to perceive events, people, situations, or objects without support of the physical senses. <div class="myDiv"><b>Revels //(The Revel, Revelling, Fae Revels)//</b></div> Often called "the Revel" as if speaking of as a singular event or even an entity, but the term is a catchall for any fae gathering. "The Revel" is a celebration amongst the fae and there is often no discernable rhyme or reason for such celebrations as they can occur spontaneously. They can be celebrations of seasons, of moments, of chaos, or of beauty---often all at once. Humans that attend revels, who are not considered Friends of the Court, are more often victims than guests. Revels are often the only occasion for which members of both courts willingly mingle. <div class="myDiv"><b>Skippers//(Skips)//</b></div> Devices that allow their users to "aport" or travel through the aether without expending their own magic to do so. <div class="myDiv"><b>Succubus</b></div> A rare and ancient type of demon which utilizes the life energy of living beings for sustanence. Many view these creatures as inherently evil. The male counterpart is known as an <b>//Incubus//</b>. <div class="myDiv"><b>Wilders</b></div> A (now outdated) catchall term for non-human paranaturals. This includes but is not limited to creatures such as fae, vampires, and demons. <div style="text-align: center;"> ────────────────────────────────── </div> <h3 style="text-decoration-line: underline;"><div style="text-align: center;"> <<return>> </div> </h3>

$rname doesn't seem at all convinced and opens $rhisher mouth to argue further, but is cut off by Carter. “Good, you’re here,” the cop says as he approaches you. “We've got her back in interview room. This way.” [[Next|4.29]]

[["Well, that sounds encouraging," you mutter.|4.24][$snark +=1]] ♤ [["What's wrong?" you ask.|4.24][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[You sigh. "Now what?"|4.24][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

You’ve worked enough search and rescue cases and found enough missing people that you’re familiar with the outpouring of emotions that accompany it. The relief, the fear, the hope, the happiness. Emotions like that leave marks. //Scars// even. Casey is curiously blank. You frown and try to hone in on the girl, but there’s nothing to really hone in on. She’s not hiding her feelings or suppressing them. She doesn’t even seem to be in shock. They just aren’t there. “You sense it too,” $zname says. Again, it isn’t a question. “Yeah, it’s…” You trail off for a moment, not sure how to word what you’re thinking. You give up and look over at Carter. “Should I go in now?” Carter nods. “Whenever you’re ready.” [[Next|4.33]]

You’re not sure if “ready” is the word for it. In fact, you’re starting to think you’re full up on weirdness for one day and that you already miss the nice, normal cases you and Carter used to handle. This feeling intensifies when you step into the interview room and are greeted by a smile. “Hi,” Casey says, politely. It feels surreal. You’ve never had much to do with victims after the fact, since by then your job is usually done. Sometimes Carter’s asked you to come in and play lie detector, but other than that the real ‘people’ stuff is usually beyond you. You hesitate for a moment in the door before closely it quietly behind you. “Hey,” you say, slowly. “I’m $name Carter. I help out here at the department sometimes. The officer asked me to check on you.” “Oh, that’s nice of him,” Casey replies. “Do you know when I can go home?” If you weren’t already unsettled by the situation, the girl’s unwavering smile would have done it for you. Still, you sit down at the table. Your uneasiness seems to grow in proximity to the girl. “I’m not sure,” you tell her. “There’s a lot of paperwork and we have to contact your parents.” “Oh, okay. I understand.” [[Next|4.34]]

You narrow your eyes a little. There’s still nothing. No anxiety. No fear. No relief. No frustration. The girl doesn’t even react at the mention of her parents... Something else is at play here. [[You try recall what you know about Casey as a person.|4.34logic][$logic +=1]]✵ [[You think back to your reading at the Powells' house.|4.34ituit][$intuit +=1]] ❂

//"... A straight-A student, a frontrunner for a sports scholarship, never been in trouble, lots of friends. Probably not a runaway.”// Carter's words come back to you readily and you shift a little in your seat. “So," you begin, trying to seem nonchalant. "Your parents told us that you’ve been struggling in school.” “Oh?” Casey’s voice breaks a little on the word. “I… suppose I am.” Well, that settles that. Something is very wrong. Either Casey hit her head at some point or… Or this isn’t Casey at all. That's not a thought that would have naturally occurred to you just a few days ago, but it comes almost instantly. <<link [[Next|4.35]]>>[\ <<set $chlogic to "yes">> ] <</link>>

You remember plucking that bright, erratic thread from the tangle and following it. You remember seeing the memory of Casey dancing around in her bedroom, doing homework, climbing out the window-- all of it underscored by a certain vibrancy and liveliness. In your experience, you know that auras evolve and change as people grow and adapt. But not this drastically. Not overnight. This //isn’t// Casey. It's not a thought that would have naturally occured to you just a few days ago and you’re not sure how that’s possible or who they really are, but it’s the only way you can make sense of what's in front of you. <<link [[Next|4.35]]>>[\ <<set $chintuit to "yes">> ] <</link>>

$zname steps inside and closes the door gently behind $zhimher. $zupperheshe says nothing, but before $zheshe has even turned around, you watch the color drain out of Casey’s face and her eyes go round with fear. You glance between the pair, trying to figure out what has Casey so spooked. $zname doesn’t seem the least bit concerned as $zheshe approaches the table and looks over at you. “Carter needs you outside,” $zheshe says. You raise an eyebrow. It’s an obvious lie, but you stand up to obey anyway. Which is when Casey takes one more wary look at $zname and then lunges across the table at you. $zname reacts even before you can process what is happening and grabs Casey by the arm, dragging her back with such strength that she hits the opposite wall with force and cracks the plaster. Except it isn’t Casey anymore. Whatever illusion had been in place was shattered at $znamepos touch and what remained was something decidedly not human. [[Next|z36]]

$rname quickly slips inside and closes the door behind $rhimher. Before you or Casey can ask what’s going on, $rheshe pitches $rself forward over the interview table, hunching down so $rheshe doesn’t tower over either of you. Then, from $rhisher pocket, $rheshe withdraws a coin. It’s similar to the one $rheshe buried in the firepit back in the woods, but you don’t get more than a glimpse of it. “Take it,” $rname says, holding the silver piece out to Casey. The girl’s eyes go wide. “What? Why?” $rname smiles and glances over at you. “Carter needs you outside.” You raise an eyebrow. It’s an obvious lie, but you stand up from the table to obey, which is when Casey takes one more wary look at $rname and then lunges at you. [[Next|4.36r]]

Then, something shifts. You don’t know what, but the longer you look at Casey the more certain you are that they aren’t Casey at all. Behind you, the interview room door suddenly opens. <<link [["It's " + $rname + "."|4.35r]]>>[\ <<set $wounded to "R">> ] <</link>> <<link [["It's " + $zname + "."|4.35z]]>>[\ <<set $wounded to "Z">> ] <</link>>

You stumble backward to avoid the teenager's grasp. At the same time, $rname catches the girl by the wrist. Then with $rhisher other hand, $rheshe presses the coin into Casey’s palm. An inhuman shriek tears free of the girl’s throat and the facade suddenly falls. One second, you are looking at Casey, and then you blink and Casey is gone, replaced by some //thing// you don’t recognize. Its skin is sickly gray and so thin as to be almost translucent, stretched taut over spindly limbs and knobby bones. The mouth is wide, set with rows of razor-like teeth bared in a snarl of pain, and its eyes are huge and colorless. As a seemingly last-ditch effort to escape, the creature opens its mouth–seemingly unhinging its jaw–and bites down on $rnamepos arm. The $rgender swears and snatches $rhisher hand back to $rhisher chest, releasing the creature. You reach out to steady $rhimher and $rheshe quickly ushers you behind $rhimher, making sure the creature can’t reach you. [[Next|4.37r]]

A second later the door slams open on its hinges, but the creature is too fast. It jumps onto the wall and then springs up and disappears into the drop ceiling. A few seconds later, you can hear panicked screams and shouting from the main office area. Carter and $zname are gone in an instant and you and $rname try your best to follow. “What the hell was that?” “Did you see that thing?” By the time you make it to the bullpen, $zname and Carter are gone and the few others in the office are paralyzed by confusion and looking from one to the other for what to do. Then it’s like everything freezes. Everyone goes still and silent, each officer wearing the same blank-eyed stare with their mouths slightly agape and their shoulders slouched down, like the strings holding them up have gone slack. [[Next|4.38r]]

“Look at me.” You look up at $rname–not to follow their command but to try to figure out what’s happening. $rupperhisher voice has a strange, hypnotic quality. <<if $trancecheck is "fail">>Like when $rheshe induced the trance back at the cabin.<</if>> You can feel it reverberating through you, like the tolling of a bell, and you watch as all of the officers turn at the same time to face $rname. “Casey Powell has not been found yet,” $rname continues, still cradling $rhisher arm to $rhisher chest. “The tip we received was a deadend and what you saw was just a mouse. There will be no further discussion on this matter. Please, return to your duties.” $rupperheshe snaps $rhisher fingers and all of the officers simultaneously come back to themselves and begin milling about as if nothing at all had happened. [[Next|4.39r]]

You blink, trying to make sense of what you just witnessed, but your train of thought is quickly derailed by $rname letting out a sharp hiss between $rhisher teeth. You look back at $rhimher and realize that $rheshe is hugging $rhisher injured arm and you can see $rhisher sleeve slowly soaking through with blood. “How bad is it?” you ask, moving closer to $rhimher so no one will overhear you. $rname shakes $rhisher head. “It’s fine.” "[[I'd hate to see what you consider not fine.|rsnark4.39][$snark +=1]]" ♤ [[“No, it’s not. Let me clean it, at least.”|rkind4.39][$snark +=1]]♢ [[“You’re a shitty liar.”|rgrumpy4.39][$grumpy +=1]]♧

“Harhar,” $rname replies. “Excuse my lack of enthusiasm for your wit at the moment.” You roll your eyes. “Come on,” you say, grabbing $rhimher by the elbow. “Carter’s got a first aid kit in his office.” $rname doesn't complain as you drag $rhimher down the hall. Carter’s office door is just at the end. Inside, it's just big enough for his desk and a small couch. The metal blinds are half-cracked, letting in the misty, orange light of the street lamps, and the whole office smells like old books and printer ink and cigarettes. You’re glad for the reprieve. Carter’s office is familiar and comfortable. When you were a kid, it was practically your second home. This is especially comforting after, well, the whole day really, but especially last ten minutes or so. [[Next|r4.392]]

“You know, you make it very hard to be annoyed with you,” $rname complains. “I’d feel much better if I could be annoyed.” You snort and grab $rhisher uninjured arm. “C’mon. Carter has a first aid kit in his office.” $rname doesn't complain as you drag $rhimher down the hall. Carter’s office door is just at the end. Inside, it's just big enough for his desk and a small couch. The metal blinds are half-cracked, letting in the misty, orange light of the street lamps, and the whole office smells like old books and printer ink and cigarettes. You’re glad for the reprieve. Carter’s office is familiar and comfortable. When you were a kid, it was practically your second home. This is especially comforting after, well, the whole day really, but especially last ten minutes or so. [[Next|r4.392]]

“You know, I was terribly worried you’d be kind and doting at the sight of blood,” $rheshe grouses. “Can’t imagine what I was thinking.” You scoff out a laugh, but don’t answer $rhimher as you grab $rhisher good arm and pull $rhimher along behind you. Carter’s office is at the end of the hall. Inside, it's just big enough for his desk and a small couch. The metal blinds are half-cracked, letting in the misty, orange light of the street lamps, and the whole office smells like old books and printer ink and cigarettes. You’re glad for the reprieve. Carter’s office is familiar and comfortable. When you were a kid, it was practically your second home. This is especially comforting after, well, the whole day really, but especially last ten minutes or so. [[Next|r4.392]]

You decide to start with what you think is the most obvious question as you circle around behind Carter’s desk to find the first aid kit you know he keeps in the closet. “So, what was that thing?” $rname slumps onto the couch. “A changeling,” $rheshe says. Despite the state of $rhisher arm, $rheshe doesn’t seem to be in much pain. In fact, $rheshe seems merely annoyed and inconvenienced as $rheshe unbuttons $rhisher shirt cuff and begins to roll the sleeve up. Under $rhisher breath, $rheshe mutters, "These stains are never going to come out." “And that coin? What was that?” you continue. The closet is full of all manner of odds and ends, old mail, and books. For someone who is as meticulously organized as Carter, it's kind of funny. And annoying, as it takes some rummaging before you finally find the first aid kit hidden under a pile of old folders. “Iron. It’s harmful to fae–burning them and disrupting their magic. It’s what broke the illusion.” $rname grimaces at the sight of several open gashes that form a semi-circle on $rhisher forearm. “I suspect you and I picked up on the same thing, but out of curiosity what gave it away for you?” [[Next|r440]]

<<if $chlogic is "yes">>You shrug. “I said she was falling behind in school and she agreed with me. The real Casey is a straight-A student.” You pull the first aid kit out from under a pile of old newspapers and then looked back at $rname. “I thought changelings targeted infants. Or that’s what the stories say.” <<else>>You shrug. “Her aura was all wrong. It wasn’t anything like the one I saw at the house when I did a walkthrough with Carter.” You pull the first aid kit out from under a pile of old newspapers and then look back at $rname. “I thought changelings targeted infants. Or that’s what the stories say.”<</if>> “It’s more of a preference than a hard rule, though this one did aptly demonstrate why they stick to mimicking things without a personality,” $rheshe replies. “Taking on someone’s appearance isn’t enough if you can’t imitate who they are as a person.” You sit down beside $rname on the couch and open the first aid kit in your lap and rifling through it for bandages and antiseptic. “So, why try to mimic Casey?” [[Next|r41]]

“An excellent question,” $rheshe replies. “Like all fae, changelings are opportunistic. However, most only try to integrate with human families at the end of their lives. They steal the form of infants, are cared for, and then when they pass the humans blame it on cot death. This one might have just been desperate. Though…” You give $rhimher a questioning look. “Though what?” $rname shakes $rhisher head. “It seems like too much of a coincidence, doesn’t it? That a changeling would just so happen to try to take Casey’s form when we know there’s been other fae involvement?” You contemplate this with a frown as you soak a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol. “It does seem weird,” you say. You begin dabbing at $rhisher arm, ignoring $rhimher when $rheshe protests the burning sting. Some of the blood has dried already, even as fresh blood still wells up in the wounds. “You said there were two types of magic where Casey vanished. Could one of those have been the changeling?” “Changelings aren’t capable of magic outside their transformations and transforming wouldn't leave a trail like that,” $rname says. “But shades… they are. That would account for the Unseelie magic we saw.” [[Next|r42]]

“What about the other? The Seelie magic?” you ask. “I don’t know,” $rheshe replies. “But if Casey got caught in the middle of a fae dispute, I wouldn’t get my hopes up about this having a happy ending.” You sigh. You learned a long time ago to temper your expectations when it comes to your job, but that doesn't necessarily make the disappointment less disappointing. [[Next|r43]]

$rname falls uncharacteristically silent and when you look at $rhimher you can tell $rheshe is a million miles away. For several moments, you clean $rhisher arm in silence, only for $rhimher to break it. “You’re all right then?” You glance up briefly from your work and find $rname staring at you with a peculiar intensity, as if trying to spot a potential lie. [[“I’m not the one that’s going to get magical rabies,” you say.|rsnark44][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[You laugh quietly. "I'm not the one who got bitten."|rkind44][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[ “If I’m still breathing, I’m fine,” you reply flatly.|rgrumpy44][$grumpy +=1]]♧

You remain focused on wrapping $rhisher arm with gauze, but glance up briefly to add: “And thank you, by the way.” $rname tips $rhisher head curiously. “What for, $rpetname?” “Protecting me,” you say, with a shrug. "You didn't have to." $rupperheshe snorts. “I can’t tell if you’re thanking me for being kind or for being an idiot.” [["Both," you reply confidently.|rgplay][$rplay +=1]]♥ "[[Well, I prefer kind idiots to mean geniuses.|rkplay45][$rplay +=1]]" ♥ [[You shrug. "Both."|rgnosell44][$rnosell +=1]] ▲

$rupperheshe snorts. “There’s no such thing.” You hum and after a few moments you add, “Thanks, by the way.” $rname tips $rhisher head curiously. “What for, $rpetname?” “Protecting me,” you say. “You got bit trying to keep it away from me.” $rupperheshe snorts. “I can’t tell if you’re thanking me for being kind or for being an idiot.” [[“Both?” you suggest with a smirk.|rplay45][$rplay +=1]]♥ [[You give a quiet laugh and shake your head, but refrain from answering.|rshy45][$rshy +=1]]♡ [["You smile a little as you finish wrapping " + $rhisher + " forearm."|rnosoll45][$rnosell +=1]] ▲

“And thank you, by the way.” $rname tips $rhisher head curiously. “What for, $rpetname?” “Protecting me,” you say, with a shrug. $rupperheshe snorts. “I can’t tell if you’re thanking me for being kind or for being an idiot.” "[[Well, I prefer kind idiots to mean geniuses.|rkplay45][$rplay +=1]]" ♥ [[“Either way, I appreciate it,” you say, ignoring the blatant baiting for a compliment.|rkshy45][$rshy +=1]]♡ [[You answer with a quiet hum–neither offering an agreement or arguing.|rknosell][$rnosell +=1]] ▲

$rname laughs and your eyes meet again. There’s something warm and open about $rhisher expression that you’ve never seen before and it makes your heart jump. <<if $snark gte 15>> It’s nice to know there’s something else under the snark and repartee. Then again, some would probably say the same about you. <</if>> $rnamepos eyes linger on you for a few moments longer. “So, what do you say? Will I make it?” $rheshe asks. You smirk. “Unless you can die of being dramatic, you’ll live.” “Maybe you should kiss it better, just to be sure,” $rheshe replies, $rhisher lips curling into a slight smirk. “Nice try,” you scoff as you pack everything back into the first aid kit. “We’ll just amputate if it becomes that dire.” $rname clicks $rhisher tongue in disapproval. “So cruel, $rpetname," $rheshe says. Then $rheshe gives you a long look. "How do you feel about today?" "I'm not sure if I have the energy to feel anything," you reply, shaking your head. "It was... a lot. To say the least." "But you did well," $rname reassures you. [[Next|r44]]

You can tell that this conversation is only going to lead you in circles. The only thing $rname seems to like more than talking is bickering. “So, am I going to live?” $rheshe asks. You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I think you’ll make it,” you say, catching $rhisher eyes again briefly. “God help us.” “So mean, $rpetname!” $rname protests, though $rheshe is smiling all the while. $rupperhisher eyes linger on you for a few moments longer. “It's been an eventful day. How are you? Aside from the changeling." You scoff quietly. “To be frank I’ve had my fill of weird for the day.” “You’ve done well,” $rheshe says with a shrug. “I would say exceptionally well given how you’ve been thrown into the deep end.” “Hell of a swimming lesson,” you mutter, earning a smirk in return. [[Next|r44]]

"Your choice," you say. $rname chuckles. “You’re so mean, $rpetname,” $rheshe says, but $rheshe doesn’t linger on it. Instead, $rheshe gives you a long once-over, $rhisher brow furrowing thoughtfully. “So, what do you think of your first day among the paranormal?” “Better than I’d feared, worse than I hoped,” you say with a shrug as you throw a handful of wrappers and bloody cotton balls away in the trash. “How am I doing?” “Admirably. At least, you’ve managed to keep your head above water,” $rheshe replies. “Which is more than most.” [[Next|r44]]

$rname grins a little. "Then I'm in luck, I suppose," $rheshe says, $rhisher eyes soft and warm. Just as quickly, $rheshe looks away, as if the moment makes $rhimher uncomfortable. “So, do you think I’ll make it? Perhaps you ought to kiss it better?” You roll your eyes as you finish wrapping $rhisher arm. “You’ll survive,” you say. “But my heart may not,” $rheshe pouts. “So cruel, $rpetname.” You laugh as you begin packing everything back into the first aid kit. “You’ll be just fine,” you reassure $rhimher, before getting up to put the kit back into the closet. $rname continues to pout for another moment more before $rhisher expression evens out and becomes almost thoughtful. “It’s been a long day,” $rheshe says, at length. “It has,” you agree, though you sound tired even to your own ears. $rupperheshe must notice this as well, as $rheshe immediately adds: “You’ve done very well. Better than most.” “Thanks,” you reply, offering a wan smile. “I’m just tired. Honestly, the shades alone would have been enough for one day.” $rname sighs, sounding dismayed. “I’m sorry. I may have pushed you to do too much too quickly,” $rheshe says, sounding apologetic. “Your abilities make it easy to forget that you’re new to all of this.” You wave a hand. “It’s fine. I’m not fragile-–just tired.” $rupperheshe nods in understanding, but the worried look on $rhisher face remains. [[Next|r44]]

You know what you want to ask next, you're just not sure how to go about it. Or if an answer is even worth the inevitable headache. You've only known $rname for a few days and you're already certain that $rheshe is never going to give you a straight answer if $rheshe can avoid it. Still, you can't deny your curiosity. “So…” you begin, drawing the word out leadingly. “What was that out there in the bullpen?" "What was what?" $rname asks as $rheshe focuses on adjusting $rhisher bandage. You almost scold them not to pick at it, but it's not //your// magically diseased injury. "The bit that definitely looked like mind control," you say flatly. $rname pouts. “Oh, come now, It isn’t anything so nefarious as that,” $rheshe says. “It’s more… the power of suggestion. Mentalism, if you’d like.” “Uh huh,” you say, sitting back and giving $rhimher a long look. “So, how does that fit in with the astral projection and everything else? You said you weren’t a psychic.” “Because I’m not,” $rname replies. $rupperheshe glances at you, as if trying to measure whether or not you’re comfortable leaving it at that. “It’s complicated.” “Complicated because it’s complicated or complicated because you don’t actually want to tell me?” you ask. $rupperheshe grins a little. “Both?” [[Next|r45]]

You can feel $rhisher eyes lingering on you, so you try to focus on wrapping $rhisher arm with gauze and then cutting away the excess. It's only moderately helpful. $rupperheshe watches you keenly for a few moments longer in quiet and you begin to realize just how closely you’re sitting. You can smell $rhisher <<if $rgender is "man">> cologne <<else>> perfume <</if>> and at this proximity $rhisher aura is a little overwhelming. When you briefly meet $rhisher eyes again, $rheshe smiles. You look away, feeling your face get hot, and from the corner of your eye, you see $rhisher smile widen. You sort of miss the brief window in which you found $rname mostly annoying. It’d made everything else about $rhimher much easier to ignore. “It’s been a long day,” $rname says eventually, maybe to take pity on you. “Thoughts?” You frown as you finish packing everything back into the first aid kit. “Today…” You linger on the word, drawing it out as you try to come up with an answer. “Today was a lot.” $rname nods in agreement, $rhisher expression softening a little as $rheshe watches you. “If it’s any consolation, you did well,” $rheshe says. “You kept your head above water.” “Barely surviving is doing well?” you ask, somewhat skeptically. “When your other option is being swept out to sea? Yes, frankly,” $rname replies with another gentle smile. “It’s easy to forget that you’re new to all of this. Insofar as the paranormal is concerned, at least. I’ve enjoyed working with you." Your face gets a little hotter and you’re convinced $rheshe is doing it on purpose now. [[Next|r44]]

"Is every case like this?" you ask. $rname shrugs as $rheshe watches you wrap $rhisher arm with gauze. “You mean with so much happening?” $rheshe asks. “Paranormal cases can be just as boring as regular ones. However, the highs are usually higher and the lows are lower.” “Ah,” you murmur in understanding. “That must be why I’m so tired.” “Maybe,” $rheshe agrees, shrugging. “I may have pushed you too hard to do too much. It’s easy to forget that you’re new to this.” You’re pretty sure that’s a compliment, but your mind is already wandering elsewhere. [[Next|r44]]

"I see you've inherited Carter's delicate social graces," $rname replies dryly. You smirk at $rhimher. "Thank you," you say. $rupperheshe scoffs at you, but can't quite hide the smile pulling at $rhisher lips. "You know, you don't //have// to be fine," $rheshe goes on after a few moments. "It's been a long day. I feel like I might have pressed you to do too much too quickly. It's easy to forget that this is still new to you." You sigh, half-tempted to argue, but you can tell that $rheshe is being sincere. "It was... a lot," you admit, somewhat reluctantly. "And I'm tired, but I'm okay. You don't need to fuss." For a moment, it seems like $rname might argue with you, but instead $rheshe just watches you quietly as you cut away the remaining gauze and begin putting everything back in the first aid kit. [[Next|r44]]

“Your choice,” you say somewhat flatly as you wrap $rhisher arm. You’re too tired for banter. Still, $rname chuckles. “You’re so mean, $rpetname,” $rheshe says, but $rhisher voice is softer and $rheshe doesn’t linger on it. Instead, $rheshe gives you a long once-over, $rhisher brow furrowing thoughtfully. “So, you’ve survived your first day among the paranormal…” “Did I? Because I feel pretty dead,” you say as you throw a handful of wrappers and bloody cotton balls away in the trash. “Well, the dead don’t feel much of anything, as I hear it, so you’re clearly still alive,” $rheshe replies. You snort, but focus on packing everything back into the first aid kit.. “How’d I do?” “Very well,” $rheshe replies. “It’s easy to forget that you’re new to this.” You hum and rub at the back of your neck as you sit the first aid kit aside and sink back into the couch cushions. [[Next|r44]]

But you know that’s probably a trap. The only thing that $rname seems to enjoy more than the sound of $rhisher own voice is bickering. Instead, you focus on bandaging $rhisher arm. Or you try. Being this close to $rname is more than a little distracting as you keep noticing new details about $rhimher. You can smell $rhisher <<if $rgender is "man">>cologne <<else>> perfume <</if>> and feel $rhisher aura pressing against yours. It’s warm and surprisingly comforting–like laying in the sun. When you accidentally meet $rhisher eyes, $rheshe smiles. You look away, feeling your face get hot, and from the corner of your eye, you see $rhisher smile widen. “Today was a lot,” you say, just to break the silence and distract yourself. “But you did well,” $rname replies. “Still, I should apologize. I feel like I pushed you to do too much too quickly. It’s easy to forget that this is all new to you.” “It’s not //that// new,” you argue as you shake your head. “How’s your arm?” “Is that concern I detect?” $rheshe asks, with a teasing grin. $rupperheshe then examines $rhisher arm, twisting and bending $rhisher wrist to ensure the bandage will stay in place. “I suspect I will survive, but perhaps you ought to kiss it better, just to be sure.” You roll your eyes as you stand up to return the first aid kit to the closet where you found it. “Not a chance,” you say, over your shoulder. “You’re so cruel, $rpetname,” $rname scolds you, though $rheshe is smiling all the while. “Maybe a kiss is the only thing that will make me feel better?” “Then ask Carter.” $rupperheshe clicks $rhisher tongue in disappointment, but when you glance back at $rhimher, you can see $rhimher still watching you and smiling. [[Next|r44]]

You roll your eyes. “The only reason I’m not arguing with you is because I'm tired. You’ll have to tell me eventually. Or I could just ask Carter.” “What? And ruin the suspense?” $rname asks. $rupperhisher grin softens a little into a smile. “I will tell you everything eventually. But this has been a long enough day already. You should lay down somewhere.” You gesture vaguely to the sofa you’re both occupying. “This is my somewhere.” $rname chuckles and you can tell that $rheshe is on the cusp of making some sort of snarky quip, but somehow $rheshe manages to rein $rself in. “Then let me take my leave,” $rheshe says as $rheshe stands up. “I’ll let you know if anything further develops tonight.” You want to ask, but the mere offer of sleep has seemingly made your eyelids heavy. You lay down onto your side and curl your legs up onto the sofa. You hear the door open and close. A few minutes pass and it opens again. You’re only half-awake when something warm is laid over you and you manage to mumble half of a thank-you before sleep claims you. [[End Chapter 4|5start]]

The creature’s skin is sickly gray and so thin as to be almost translucent, stretched taut over spindly limbs and knobby bones. The mouth is wide, set with rows of jagged teeth bared in a snarl, and its eyes are huge and colorless. The creature tries to dart past $zname, but $zheshe is faster and catches it by the arm again. Then as apparently a last-ditch effort to escape, the creature opens its mouth–seemingly unhinging its jaw–and bites down on $znamepos arm. The $zgender hisses in pain and snatches $zhisher hand back to $zhisher chest, releasing the creature. You reach out to steady $zhimher, but $zheshe simply ushers you behind $zhimher, making sure the creature can’t reach you. A second later the door slams open on its hinges and you get a glimpse of Carter and $rname, but the creature is too fast. It jumps onto the wall and then springs up and disappears into the drop ceiling. A few seconds later, you can hear panicked screams and shouting from the main office area. Carter and $rname are gone in an instant and you and $zname try your best to follow. [[Next|z37]]

It vaguely occurs to you that something is wrong. Despite the brief commotion you heard just a moment ago, there is now only eerie silence. As you step into the bullpen–-$rname and Carter having disappeared out the front–-you realize that everything is completely still. Everyone from the officers to the clerks are frozen in place, their expressions and postures slack and their eyes vacantly staring. [[Next|z38]]

$zname is still hugging $zhisher arm close to $zhisher chest as $zheshe steps forward. “Everyone, resume your duties as if nothing has happened,” $zheshe says. And just like that, everyone starts moving again, picking up exactly where they’d left off like nothing at all happened. You’re still trying to process this when $zname hisses through $zhisher teeth, drawing your attention to $zhimher. $zupperheshe isn’t wearing $zhisher jacket at the moment, so you have a mostly unimpeded view of $zhisher bloody sleeve. “How bad is it?” you ask, moving closer to $zhimher so no one will overhear you. $zname shakes $zhisher head. “Please, don't fuss. I'll be fine." [[“No one says they're fine when they're actually fine.”|zs38][$snark +=1]]♤ [[“No, it’s not. Let me clean it, at least.”|zk38][$kind +=1]]♢ [[“You’re a crap liar.”|zg38][$grumpy +=1]]♧

$zname gives a soft huff of laughter. “I'll keep that in mind," $zheshe says. "But please, I'm okay.” $zupperheshe lets out another quite hiss of pain and you shake your head. “I don’t buy it,” you say, grabbing $zhimher by the elbow. “Carter’s got a first aid kit in his office. C'mon.” [[Next|z39]]

“I appreciate your concern, but please, don’t fuss. I’m fine.” $zupperhisher voice hitches a little on the last word and you shake your head. “No, you’re not. Come here. Carter has a first aid kit in his office.” [[Next|z39]]

$zname gives half a laugh in reply. “Yes, I’ve heard that before,” $zheshe says. “Please, don’t concern yourself with this. It isn’t that bad.” $zupperhisher breath hitches a little as $zheshe speaks, so without a word you grab $zhisher good arm and pull $zhimher down the hall after you. [[Next|z39]]

Carter’s office is just big enough for his desk and a small couch. The metal blinds are half-cracked and permanently crooked, letting in the misty, orange light of the street lamps, and the whole office smells like cigarettes, printer ink, and aftershave. The office is familiar and comfortable. When you were a kid, it was practically your second bedroom and you find it especially comforting now after–well, the whole day really, but especially the last ten minutes or so. You decide to start with what you think is the most obvious question as you circle around behind Carter’s desk to find the first aid kit you know he keeps in the closet. “So… that obviously wasn’t Casey.” [[Next|z40]]

$zname sits down on the couch, grimacing as $zheshe examines $zhisher arm. “No, it wasn't” $zheshe says. Despite the state of $zhisher arm, $rheshe doesn’t seem to be in much pain. At least, not outwardly as $zheshe stoically rolls up $zhisher sleeve. “It was a changeling.” “Why did it freak out when it saw you?” you wonder. Carter’s closet is full of all manner of odds and ends, old mail, and books. For a man who is so strictly organized otherwise, you could almost swear he does it on purpose. “And why did it stop looking like Casey when you touched it?” “It probably sensed something amiss. I can break illusions.” $zname examines the semi-circle of gashes forming the bite mark. “What gave it away for you?” <<if $chlogic is "yes">>You shrug. “I said she was falling behind in school and she agreed with me. The real Casey is a straight-A student. And I thought changelings targeted infants. Or that’s what the stories say.”<<else>>You shrug. “Her aura was all wrong. It wasn’t anything like the one I saw at the house when I did a walkthrough with Carter. But I thought changelings targeted infants. Or that’s what the stories say.”<</if>> “They’re not limited to mimicking infants. It’s more of a preference, because it is much easier to impersonate things without an established personality,” $zheshe replies. “Taking on someone’s appearance isn’t enough if you can’t also imitate who they are as a person.” You finally find the first aid kit hidden under a pile of old newspapers and carry it over to the couch with you. “So, why try to mimic Casey?” [[Next|z41]]

$zname shakes $zhisher head. “Truly? I have no idea,” $zheshe said. “Changelings are opportunists–like most fae. Typically they only integrate with human families near the end of their lives. They steal the form of infants, are cared for, and then when they pass the humans blame it on cot death. This one might have just been desperate.” You make a face as you sit down and begin rummaging for bandages and antiseptic. “I… I don’t think so. $rname and I did something earlier–$rheshe called it astral projection. $rupperheshe picked up two types of magic where Casey disappeared: Seelie and Unseelie. We also ran into shades that were lingering in the area where Casey and her friends had that party in the woods. None of that seems like a coincidence to me. I mean, for yet //another// fae to be involved? Unless a changeling could have left the trail, then I guess that’d make sense…” $zname automatically shakes $zhisher head. “Changelings transformations aren’t powerful enough to leave residual magic behind. But shades //could//. And you are right. It is unlikely that the involvement of so many fae is a coincidence. I just cannot see how they connect.” “The shades said something about an exile maybe being involved with Casey’s disappearance,” you say. “Does that seem likely?” [[Next|z42]]

The agent shakes $zhisher head again. “I would take anything said by shades with a considerable amount of salt,” $zheshe said. $zupperheshe finally looks at you, for the first time since you’ve sat down together, and gives you a quick once-over. “Are you all right?” You give $zhimher a pointed look. “//I// am fine. I wasn’t the one that got bit,” you reply. Then, a little hesitantly, you add: “And thank you. For protecting me.” $zname shakes $zhisher head. “It was nothing.” [[“Have you always suffered from chronic humility?”|zsnark43][$snark +=1]] ♤ "[[It was something to me.|zkind34][$kind +=1]]" ♢ "[[Yeah? So, you get bitten a lot trying to protect total strangers?|zgrumpy34][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

The $zgender lets out a sharp, breathy laugh and glances over at you. $zupperhisher smile is genuine and honestly beautiful. “I suppose so,” $zheshe says. $zupperheshe gives you another critical once-over. “You //are// all right?” [["You mean since you last asked me two seconds ago?" you ask wtih a smile.|zsplay43][$zplay +=1]]♥ [["How many times are you going to ask me that?" you wonder.|zsshy43][$zshy +=1]] ♡ [["You're starting to sound like Carter," you say.|zsnosell43][$znosell +=1]] ▲

$zname looks momentarily surprised by this and then offers a quiet laugh. “I’m sorry,” $zheshe says. “I mean to say that it is just my job.” You shrug. “I still appreciate it,” you say. You nod to $zhisher arm as you remove an alcohol swab from its packaging. “Does it hurt?” $zupperheshe shakes $zhisher head. “No.” [[“Would you tell me if it did?” you ask with a playful smile.|zkplay43][$zplay +=1]]♥ [[You can't help but doubt that.|zkshy43][$zshy +=1]] ♡ [[You can tell from the answer that they're more focused on you. "I'm fine. We're talking about you right now."|zknosell43]] ▲

$zname offers you a half-smile. “When the situation calls for it,” $zheshe says. “Though, I understand how that could have sounded dismissive. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it seem like your gratitude was unwelcomed.” [[You wave your hand. "That’s okay." |zgplay43][$zplay +=1]] ♥ [[“Ah, no problem,” you say,|zgshy43][$zshy +=1]] ♡ [[“That’s okay,” you say with a shrug.|zgns43][$znosell +=1]] ▲

$zname answers you with a sheepish smile in return. There really is something about $zhimher that captures you. You can’t quite name it–if it’s just $zhisher striking looks or something else–but it’s especially difficult to ignore at such a close proximity. “Are you always such a worrier?” you ask. $zname chuckles quietly. “I suppose I am,” $zheshe says with a shrug. “I know you’re new–so to speak–to all of this. I suppose I expected you to be more bothered by it all.” You shrug. “I won’t pretend that today wasn’t weird as hell, but I’m also way too tired right now to process it. So the existential crisis can wait until tomorrow.” [[Next|znplay243]]

$zupperheshe smiles a bit sheepishly in reply. “I’m sorry,” $zheshe says. “It’s… a reflex. I know that you’re new to all of this…” It takes you a second to catch up with what $zheshe is saying, as you find yourself quite distracted by $zhisher smile. You can feel your face getting hot and you cough. “Ah, well, fortunately, I’m too tired to be overwhelmed,” you say. “It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” $zname chuckles. The sound is warm and rich and it makes your stomach swoop. You distract yourself by focusing on cleaning $zhisher arm. You reach out to $zhisher wrist to hold $zhisher arm still, but the second your hand touches $zhimher, $zheshe jerks quickly away from you. [[Next|zsshy243]]

You nod to $zhisher arm as you open a packet containing an alcohol wipe. “Does it hurt?” $zname shakes $zhisher head. “It stings, but that’s all,” $zheshe says. $zupperhisher eyes linger on you for a few moments. “It’s easy to forget that you’re new to all of this.” “Well, how ‘new’ I am is debatable, since I’ve always had my own personal weirdness to deal with,” you reply. “Either way I’m too tired to think about it right now.” $zname nods, though you can tell that $zhisher thoughts are already elsewhere. You take this as a sign that the conversation is over and reach for $zhisher wrist with one hand so you can clean $zhisher forearm with the other. Instead, the second your hand touches $zhimher, $zname flinches back from you and jerk $zhisher hand away. Looking at $zhimher, you can tell that even $zheshe is surprised by $zhisher reaction. [[Next|zsns243]]

You know what you want to ask next, you're just not totally sure how to go about it. Or if an answer is even worth the inevitable headache. You’ve only been at this supernatural thing for a few days, but you know already that you might never get another straight answer in your life. “So…” you begin, drawing the word out leadingly as you lay the cotton pad soaked over $znamepos arm. “What was that out there in the bullpen?" "What was what?" $zname asks. $zupperheshe hasn’t flinched away from you again, but $zheshe watches your movements like a hawk. You try to ignore $zhisher scrutiny as you wrap $zhisher wrist with cotton gauze. "The weird bit where everyone was standing around frozen and slack-jawed.” You can tell that it takes $zname a second to figure out what you’re talking about, which means that it must be a pretty average occurrence. Or as average as such things get, you suppose. “Ah, that was $rnamepos doing. No doubt to prevent the other officers from following $rhimher and Carter.” “Yeah, I got that part–kind of,” you say, waving a hand. “//What// was it? What’d $rheshe do?” $zname shakes $zhisher head. “$rname calls it mentalism,” $zheshe replies. “It’s a sort of hypnosis, as I understand it. But you would have to ask $rhimher for specifics." [[Next|z45]]

$zname laughs guiltily. “I suppose I wouldn’t,” $zheshe admits. “But right now the pain is minimal. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.” “I don’t know if I believe you,” you tease $zhimher. $zupperheshe smiles a little, but doesn’t answer you. You hold one another’s gaze for a few moments more before finally you look away. You redirect by reminding yourself what you’re actually there for and reach out to hold $znamepos wrist, so you can clean the cuts with your other hand. However the second you touch $zhimher, $zheshe flinches and jerks $zhisher hand away. It obviously startles you both. [[Next|zkplay243]]

Your expression must give you away because $zname offers a reassuring smile. “It stings,” $zheshe says. “But that’s all. I promise.” You //want// to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat. There is something utterly mesmerizing about $zname, especially when $zheshe smiles, and you’re more than a little captivated. $zupperheshe is handsome, yes, but there’s something else that intrigues you too. Maybe it’s just $zhisher strange mix of stoic matter-of-factness and warmth. Maybe it’s something else. You haven’t had the chance to speak with $zhimher since being introduced, but you feel strangely at ease in $zhisher presence. You don’t know why and you can’t even really describe it. It just is. So caught up in these thoughts, you realize rather belatedly that you’re definitely staring. Your face gets hot and, desperate to redirect yourself, you turn to the task at hand. You reach for $znamepos wrist with one hand to hold $zhisher arm while you clean the wound with the other. But the second your skin touches $zhishers, $zname jerks $zhisher hand back, as if scalded. $zname somehow looks just as surprised as you feel. [[Next|zkshy243]]

You say it little forcefully, though you temper your tone with a smile. You nod at $zhisher arm. “Does it hurt?” $zname offers a smile and shakes $zhisher head. “It stings, but only a little bit,” $zheshe says. You nod and reach for $zhisher wrist with one hand to hold it while you clean the wound with the other. But the second your skin touches $zhishers, $zname jerks $zhisher hand back, as if scalded. $zname somehow looks just as surprised as you feel. “I’m sorry,” $zname cuts you off before you can say anything at all. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Please, continue.” You almost point out that $zheshe was obviously the one startled, but it’s probably a bad time to argue semantics, so you keep your mouth shut. Instead, you reach for $zhisher arm again, trying to move slowly and telegraph your movements. $zname doesn’t say anything, but you can see how $zhisher posture relaxes. [[Next|z44]]

"If I got paid every time someone misunderstood what I meant, I’d be rich. So, I get it. I guess if I wanted to be popular, I shouldn’t have taken so much after Carter.” $zname chuckles. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” $zheshe reassures you. There’s something downright distracting about $zhisher laugh and voice and you find yourself momentarily entranced by it. Somewhat belatedly, you find yourself staring. “You wouldn’t have to,” you reply quickly and you smile a little in spite of yourself when you see the corner of $znamepos lips curl. “I’ve probably heard it from everyone in Port Gillain at least once.” “That must be hard,” $zheshe says. “To be constantly compared to someone else.” You shrug as you tear open the packet of an antiseptic wipe. “Not really. Most people around here like Carter, so they don’t mean it as an insult. He blames me. Something about how adopting a kid ruined his ‘image’. I think he just preferred it when the little old ladies in town didn’t ask him to do their yardwork.” [[Next|zgplay243]]

You shake your head as you open an antiseptic wipe. “I sympathize.” “Oh?” $zname asks, raising an eyebrow. You laugh a little to yourself. “Taking after Carter hasn’t exactly left me with the most polished social skills,” you say. “So, I understand being misunderstood.” The agent laughs and offers you a contrite sort of smile in apology for it. It makes your insides twist and you try in vain to push down the feeling so you don’t look like a jerk //and// an idiot. $zname is not the first good-looking $zgender you’ve ever met, you tell yourself, so you need to stop acting like it. Deciding that the best way to move past this is to just get on with it, you reach over to take $znamepos wrist with one hand, to hold it steady while you clean the cuts with your other. Instead, the second you touch $zhimher, $zheshe jerks $zhisher hand back as if burned. [[Next|zgshy243]]

$zname gives a soft scoff of amusement, but the look on $zhisher face is pensive and thoughtful. A moment later and it’s gone. Deciding to just get on with it, you reach over to grab $znamepos wrist with one hand, to hold it steady while you clean the cuts with the other. Instead, the second your skin touches $zhishers, $zheshe jerks $zhisher hand back as if burned. You stare at each other, both of you equally taken aback. “Um…” You wish sometimes that you were a little less like Carter–especially in moments like this. Maybe then you’d know what to say. “I’m sorry,” $zname cuts you off, $zhisher words all coming out in a rush. “Please, continue.” $zupperhisher tone doesn’t invite any questions, so you swallow your confusion and reach for $zhimher again. This time, you take $zhisher hand in yours and hold it gently as you begin cleaning the bite. If anything, taking after Carter has left you poorly equipped to be gentle, but $zname seems grateful all the same and $zheshe squeezes your hand in thanks. [[Next|z44]]

“I’m–” You try to speak, but $zname almost immediately cuts you off. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” $zheshe says quickly, as if wanting to beat you to the punch. “It’s my fault. Please, continue.” You’re not entirely convinced that you should and you hesitate. “Are you sure?” you ask. You don’t want to sound condescending, like you don’t think $zname knows $zhisher limits, but at the same time you see the way $zhisher hands are shaking. $zupperheshe seems to notice your stare and clenches $zhisher hands into fists to stop the trembling. “I’m fine,” $zheshe says again, more insistent but still gentle. You nod, but instead of grabbing $zhisher wrist again you take $zhisher hand. You hold it lightly in yours as you begin dabbing at $zhisher forearm with the antiseptic. $zupperheshe gives your hand a gentle, grateful squeeze in return. [[Next|z44]]

“I didn’t—” “I’m sorry,” $zheshe cuts you off quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Please, continue.” You really want to ask $zhimher if $zheshe is sure, as you can see how $zhisher hands are shaking. But $zheshe seems to notice this at the same time and clenches $zhisher hands into fists to stop it. “Go on,” $zname says again, but this time $zheshe doesn’t meet your eyes. You give a tentative nod and reach for $zhisher arm again. This time, you take $zhisher hand in yours and hold it gently as you begin to clean the cuts. $zname doesn’t say anything to you, but $zheshe squeezes your hand in return. [[Next|z44]]

$zupperheshe laughs again and for a moment your eyes meet. Both of you linger on it for just a few seconds too long, until you both look away again. Hoping to distract yourself, you reach out to begin cleaning $znamepos wound, laying your free hand on $zhisher wrist to hold it, only for $zname to flinch away from you. Even $zheshe looks somewhat startled by $zhisher reaction. “I’m… sorry?” you say tentatively, not entirely sure what you’re apologizing for. $zupperheshe immediately shakes $zhisher head. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” $zheshe replies quickly. “It was just… you startled me. I suppose. Go on.” You’re half-tempted to press for some details, but something tells you that you shouldn’t, so you simply focus on what you’re doing. [[Next|z44]]

You’re surprised by the reaction and judging by the way $zname is looking at you, so is $zheshe. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” $zupperheshe immediately shakes $zhisher head. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” $zheshe replies. “It was my fault. Please, go on.” You’re not sure that you entirely believe $zhimher–especially when for just a second you can see $zhisher hands shaking. You’re half-tempted to press for some details, but something tells you that you shouldn’t, so you simply try again. This time, you move slower, trying to telegraph your motions as much as possible to avoid startling $zname. $zupperheshe doesn’t say anything about it, but you can see $zhisher shoulders relax. [[Next|z44]]

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you’re not exactly sure what you’re apologizing for. $zname shakes $zhisher head. “No, it’s not your fault. Don’t apologize,” $zheshe replies. “You’re trying to help. Please, go on.” $zupperhisher posture is stiff and when you look closer you can tell $zhisher hands are shaking. You’re half-tempted to ask, but refrain. You don’t know $zname well enough yet to pry. So you simply try again and although $zheshe tenses at your touch, $zheshe doesn’t flinch away. [[Next|z44]]

You stare at each other, both of you equally taken aback. “Um…” You wish sometimes that you were a little less like Carter–especially in moments like this. Maybe then you’d know what to say. “I’m sorry,” $zname cuts you off before you can apologize. $zupperhisher words come out in a rush. “Please, continue.” $zupperhisher tone doesn’t invite any further questions and you’re not sure you want to pry, so you swallow your confusion and reach for $zhimher again. This time, you take $zhisher hand in yours and hold it gently as you begin cleaning the bite. If anything, taking after Carter has left you poorly equipped to be gentle, but $zname seems grateful all the same and $zheshe squeezes your hand in thanks. [[Next|z44]]

You smile a little to soften your words and look at $zhisher arm. “Does it hurt?” $zname shakes $zhisher head. “It stings, but only a little bit,” $zheshe says. You nod and reach for $znamepos wrist with one hand to hold $zhisher arm steady while you clean the wound with the other. But the second your skin touches $zhishers, $zname jerks $zhisher hand back, as if scalded. $zname somehow looks just as surprised as you feel. “I’m sorry,” $zname cuts you off before you can say anything at all. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Please, continue.” You almost point out that $zheshe was obviously the one startled, but this doesn’t seem like the best time to poke the bear, so you keep your mouth shut. Instead, you reach for $zhisher arm again, trying to move slowly and telegraph your movements. $zname doesn’t say anything, but you can see how $zhisher posture relaxes. [[Next|z44]]

You sigh. If that’s the case, you know you might never get an answer. But you’re too tired to be annoyed and you find yourself struggling to suppress a yawn. $zname notices immediately and frowns at you in concern. “If you’re tired, you should lay down somewhere,” $zheshe says. You gesture vaguely to the sofa you’re both occupying. “This is usually my somewhere.” To your surprise, $zname immediately stands up. “Then I’ll let you rest,” $zheshe says. $zupperheshe starts to methodically pack everything back into the first aid kit. “You’ve had a long day.” You hum in agreement, but grimace a little at the memory of the shades. “I don’t even know if I’ll be able to sleep,” you mumble to yourself. “And I’m not kicking you out.” “No, but that’s not necessary,” $zname replies with another faint smile. “I’m kicking myself out. I’ll wake you if something of importance occurs.” You want to protest, maybe just to be stubborn, but find yourself laying down anyway as $zname throws some bandage wrappers in the trash and then takes the first aid kit back to the closet. You’re already half-asleep when you hear the door open and close. [[End Chapter 4|5start]]

You open your eyes and find yourself standing in the middle of some kind of vestibule. Your head feels fuzzy and you can’t remember where you were or what you were doing before this moment and each time you try to grasp the memory it takes a step further away. These thoughts leave you quickly as you take in your surroundings. Wherever you are it is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. The floors are black marble with streaking veins of gold and the walls match, with gilded stucco moldings. The wall sconces are gold filigree and glass, bathing everything in soft, warm light, and high over head the coffered ceilings are painted with elaborate frescos depicting the skies and heavenly bodies. Somewhere from further on, you can make out the sound of airy, orchestral strings underlined by the raucous murmur of a party in full swing. [[Next|52]]

You move forward, as if guided by a string, and pass a large, gilded mirror mounted on the wall. Your reflection takes you by surprise. You are wearing: ^^These choices are genderless^^ <<link [[An elaborate gown.|Dress]]>> [\<<set $ddress to "gown">>]<</link>> <<link [[An embroidered waistcoat and trousers.|tunic]]>> [\<<set $ddress to "coat">>]<</link>>

The waistcoat is gray silk with gold fastenings and it fits neatly to your frame with squared shoulders and a darted waist under a longer outer robe of rich, mahogany brown. The trousers are black and tucked into matching boots that reach nearly to your knees. It’s not a flashy or showy ensemble by any means, but it matches well with the mask you wear. It’s bird-like with a slight beak and an assortment of soft, brown feathers interwoven with spots of white and black. You reach out and touch your reflection. [[Why can’t you remember where you are?|51logic][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[This is wrong. Your thoughts are all a blurry haze. What is this place?|51intuit][$intuit +=1]] ❂

It’s a muted, dove brown and cut from a gauzy, almost sheer fabric with a cape and hood of the same material that covers your head. It probably wouldn’t be your first choice as far as the color goes, but it fits you perfectly and the gentle drapes and folds of fabric fall elegantly to the floor. More importantly, it matches the mask you wear, which is shaped to mimic a bird with a slight beak and an assortment of soft, beige and greyish-white feathers. You reach out and touch your reflection. [[Why can’t you remember where you are?|51logic][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[This is wrong. Your thoughts are all a blurry haze. What is this place?|51intuit][$intuit +=1]] ❂

<<if $logic gte 7>> You’re suddenly bumped from behind and only just manage to catch yourself against the mirror. You turn just in time to see a lady rushing off, but she pauses to look back at you. Her gown is gleaming white and fantastically elaborate, with layers of detailed, golden embroidery and jewels sewn into the fabric. Her rabbit-like mask looks like gilded porcelain. She smiles at you before disappearing around a corner. You hesitate. Something is urging you to follow, but you glance back over shoulder anyway. <<link [[You follow the woman.|5garden]]>> [\<<set $kmeeting to "common">>]<</link>> <<link [[You go the other way.|5library]]>> [\<<set $kmeeting to "library">>]<</link>> <<else>> You’re suddenly bumped from behind and only just manage to catch yourself against the mirror. You turn just in time to see a lady rushing off, but she pauses to look back at you. Her gown is gleaming white and fantastically elaborate, with layers of detailed, golden embroidery and jewels sewn into the fabric. Her rabbit-like mask looks like gilded porcelain. She smiles at you before disappearing around a corner. <<link [[You follow the woman.|5garden]]>> [\<<set $kmeeting to "common">>]<</link>> <</if>>

<<if $intuit gte 7>> You’re suddenly bumped from behind and only just manage to catch yourself against the mirror. You turn just in time to see a lady rushing off, but she pauses to look back at you. Her gown is gleaming white and fantastically elaborate, with layers of detailed, golden embroidery and jewels sewn into the fabric. Her rabbit-like mask looks like gilded porcelain. She smiles at you before disappearing around a corner. You hesitate. Something is urging you to follow, but you glance back over shoulder anyway. <<link [[You follow the woman.|5garden]]>> [\<<set $kmeeting to "common">>]<</link>> <<link [[You go the other way.|5maze]]>> [\<<set $kmeeting to "maze">>]<</link>> <<else>> You’re suddenly bumped from behind and only just manage to catch yourself against the mirror. You turn just in time to see a lady rushing off, but she pauses to look back at you. Her gown is gleaming white and fantastically elaborate, with layers of detailed, golden embroidery and jewels sewn into the fabric. Her rabbit-like mask looks like gilded porcelain. She smiles at you before disappearing around a corner. <<link [[You follow the woman.|5garden]]>> [\<<set $kmeeting to "common">>]<</link>> <</if>>

You turn the corner and are greeted by a pair of open, glass doors. Your eyes go wide at the sight beyond them. It’s a garden. Or something like it anyhow. The trees are wrapped with strings of glowing, golden lights and long, crystalline tendrils hang from the boughs. The stone steps from the doorway are lined with gilded lanterns and as you descend you find yourself trying to take everything in all at once. There are people everywhere, some dancing and others gathered into tight clusters, whispering conspiratorially to one another. Every costume is more elaborate than the last, decorated with with fur, feathers, lace, and silk. Some of them are dotted with precious stones and others have intricate patterns of beaded embroidery. The masks are just as fantastical. There are some made of lace and others that are cast from metal or carved from wood and painted. All of them are animal-like. Swans, bears, wolves, tigers– [[Next|5garden2]]

You consider following the woman—in fact, you feel pulled toward her. It’s a strange sensation and you can’t quite put your finger on its origin. Still, you shake it off and go the other way. You continue admiring the painted ceilings and the polished, marble floors until the hall ends and intersects with another. There’s nothing really distinct enough to give you a hint as to where the halls might lead, so you follow your gut and go left. You admire the new frescos—now depicting what look like scenes of a royal court. There are courtiers dressed in luxurious, vibrant colors standing side-by-side with strange, inhuman creatures. Some are hulking and brutish and others are depicted as animals or wisps of a shadow. It takes you a moment to realize, but things have gotten strangely silent. You can’t hear the music or the murmur of a crowd anymore—only the way your own footsteps echo disconcertingly in the empty hall. [[Next|5lib1]]

You step into the crowd. While some of the partygoers turn to leer at you, others barely acknowledge you even as they push their way past. You’re… where are you? What is this place? You can’t seem to grasp the thought long enough to make sense of anything amidst such a cacophony of sensation and color. There is so much to look at that you’re not sure what to take in first and the air is heavy with the overpowering scent of perfume and flowers. It’s enough to make you dizzy… You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn in time to be handed a golden goblet by a masked servant, who bows to you extravagantly. Their grin is sharp and mischievous, but they do not linger and you immediately lose sight of them in the crowd. You eye the cup and its contents skeptically. The drink is dark and fragrant, smelling of earth and fruit and flowers. Wine, you think as you watch the black liquid churn with glittering, silvery swirls. //Maybe.// [[Next|5wine]]

<<link [[Drink the wine. What's the harm?|5wineyes]]>> [\<<set $kmet to "yeswine">>]<</link>> <<link [[Um, don't drink the wine? Duh?|5wineno]]>> [\<<set $kmet to "nowine">>]<</link>>

When the wine touches your lips, you feel a wave of heat rush through your body. You close your eyes for a moment to collect yourself when your balance wavers and when you open them again everything around you is so much more vibrant. The colors are euphoric and the music is bewitching. The lights dance like fireflies and when someone passes by too closely, the simple brush of them against your arm elicits a giggle. Somewhere, your higher mind knows that drinking the wine was a mistake. However, the rest of you doesn’t care. [[Next|5gardenyes3]]

You discreetly toss the contents of the glass into the nearest bush, not particularly caring if anyone sees you do it. Which is fortunate, because the plant spontaneously blooms gorgeous, indigo flowers. You glance warily down at the goblet still in your hand and then quickly abandon it at the nearest table. [[Next|5garden3no]]

You move about the party in a daze, utterly captivated, and everything around you melts together in a dreamy, kaleidoscopic whirl. It’s a euphoric experience and your body feels impossibly light, almost like you’re floating. You mindlessly take another sip of the wine. You’re not sure what kind of party this is. There’s food and wine and you pass a handful of couples twirling together around the dance floor, but there are also sculptors and artists with nude models posed for them on chaises and pedestals. You pass someone juggling flaming torches and a handful of dancers dressed in sheer silks and gold jewelry. There’s a man reciting poetry for a small gathering of onlookers and someone else is performing acts of contortion. You pause to watch dancers and you can feel the moment your eyes lock with one of the performers', even though their mask appears faceless. They turn their attention on you specifically and you’re taken aback when the artist makes a few graceful turns and then rolls to their feet in front of you and offers out a flower. It looks like a lily of some sort with petals that look like gilded glass. You hesitantly reach out to take it, but a gloved hand intercepts your prize before you can as another settles around <<if $gender is "woman">>your waist. <<else>> your shoulders.<</if>> Surprised, you turn to face the thief. [[Next|kgender]]

You’re not sure what kind of party this is. There’s food and wine and you pass a handful of couples twirling together around the dance floor, but there are also sculptors and artists and nude models posing on chaises and pedestals. You pass someone juggling flaming torches and a handful of dancers dressed in sheer silks and gold jewelry. There’s a man reciting poetry for a small gathering of onlookers and a troupe of contortionists. There’s too much to look at and you find yourself turning your head this way and that, trying to take it all in. It feels both real and dreamlike, overwhelming and exciting. [[Next|5garden4no]]

It is... <<link [[a man...|5gardeny2]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "man">> <<set $kheshe to "he">> <<set $khimher to "him">> <<set $khishers to "his">> <<set $khisher to "his">> <<set $kupperhishers to "His">> <<set $kupperheshe to "He">> <<set $kupperhisher to "His">> <<set $khandpretty to "handsome">> <<set $kgenderpos to "man's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "He's">> <<set $khesheis to "he's">> <<set $kself to "himself">> <<set $kpretty to "handsome">> ] <</link>> <<link [[a woman...|5gardeny2]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "woman">> <<set $kheshe to "she">> <<set $khimher to "her">> <<set $khishers to "hers">> <<set $khisher to "her">> <<set $kupperhishers to "Her">> <<set $kupperheshe to "She">> <<set $kupperhisher to "Her">> <<set $khandpretty to "pretty">> <<set $kgenderpos to "woman's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "She's">> <<set $khesheis to "she's">> <<set $kself to "herself">> <<set $kpretty to "beautiful">> ] <</link>>

$kupperheshe is <<if $height is "short" or $height is "average">> much taller than you <<else>> quite tall <</if>>with <<if $kgender is "man">> an angular, defined jawline and chin. <<else>> with sharp, elegant features that remind you of a painting. <</if>> $kupperhisher skin is papery white, almost gray, and $khisher long, undercut hair falls around $khisher shoulders like a slowly spreading puddle of black ink. $kupperheshe wears a gray, silk coat<<if $kgender is "man">> open over a bare chest <<else>> over a plain shirt that has a perilously low neckline <</if>>that is stitched lovingly with silvery embroidery and trimmed around the collar with a mantle of sleek, black feathers. $kupperhisher mask is also birdlike, with a more pronounced beak than yours and colors to match $khisher costume. Through the mask, you see that while $khisher eyes are a brilliant, sapphire blue, $khisher sclera is black as pitch. It’s eerie and fascinating and beautiful at the same time. Despite wearing gloves, $khisher hand is so cold you can feel it through your costume. It’s unexpected, though not particularly unpleasant. “You should be careful accepting gifts, Sparrow,” $kheshe says. <<if $kgender is "man">>His voice is low and silken, like a sin. <<else>> Her voice is dangerous and sensual, like the blade of a knife. <</if>> $kupperheshe glances at the performer and throws the flower back at them, which elicits a shriek of surprise. [[Next|5gardeny3]]

The haze of the wine lifts enough for you to be shocked, but the $kgender is already leading you away. “What was that flower?” you ask, stumbling over your thoughts as you try to organize them amidst the chaos in your head. “A trick,” $kheshe replies and $kheshe grins at you, revealing teeth that are too sharp to be human. $kupperheshe removes $khisher arm from your shoulders and starts to lead you by the hand, walking backwards as $kheshe does so. Somehow, the crowds part immediately for you both, even though $kheshe isn’t paying them any mind. Your head feels foggy and you can feel your alarm slipping away, even as you try to hang onto it. “What–what kind of trick?” you ask, your voice catching a little as you try to muster some semblance of lucidity. “The best kind,” the $kgender says. $kupperheshe takes a step closer, until there’s barely an inch between you, and $khisher playful grin becomes just a little sinister as $khisher voice drops into a whisper that you can feel against your neck. “The dangerous kind.” [[Next|5gardeny4]]

You shiver, but you’re not sure if it’s fear or something else. $kupperheshe tips $khisher head to one side, studying you. $kupperheshe gently relieves you of the wine goblet you still hold. It vanishes into thin air with just the twist of $khisher wrist. “Dance with me,” $kheshe says. It isn’t a request, though $khisher tone is neither harsh nor demanding. You know that you don’t know this $kgender. You don’t. And yet something about $khimher feels familiar, like you’ve met before. Like you’ve… [["Yes."][$snark +=1]] ♤ [["Yes."][$kind +=1]] ♢ [["Yes."][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

You pause to watch one of the performances and an artist approaches you. They raise their hand, as if to offer you something, but instead you see a snake and the sight of it makes you jump in surprise. Its body is wound around the performer’s arm and its head rests in their open palm. The skin looks like glass streaked with bright shades of red and orange. You shy away from the performer and their companion and drift toward the edges of the party. The further you go the quieter it becomes. The air is cooler without the constant press of bodies all around and outside the halo of the brightly burning candles and lanterns, you can see fireflies dancing in the dark. [[Next|kgender2]]

You follow a dimly lit path that takes you between rows of flowerbeds with leaves and petals of every color. You draw your finger along a stem of heavy, bell-like flowers and marvel when they chime softly in response. “Was the party not to your taste, Sparrow?” You turn quickly at the voice and see… <<link [[a man.|5gardenno5]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "man">> <<set $kheshe to "he">> <<set $khimher to "him">> <<set $khishers to "his">> <<set $khisher to "his">> <<set $kupperhishers to "His">> <<set $kupperheshe to "He">> <<set $kupperhisher to "His">> <<set $khandpretty to "handsome">> <<set $kgenderpos to "man's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "He's">> <<set $khesheis to "he's">> <<set $kself to "himself">> <<set $kpretty to "handsome">> ] <</link>> <<link [[a woman.|5gardenno5]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "woman">> <<set $kheshe to "she">> <<set $khimher to "her">> <<set $khishers to "hers">> <<set $khisher to "her">> <<set $kupperhishers to "Her">> <<set $kupperheshe to "She">> <<set $kupperhisher to "Her">> <<set $khandpretty to "pretty">> <<set $kgenderpos to "woman's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "She's">> <<set $khesheis to "she's">> <<set $kself to "herself">> <<set $kpretty to "beautiful">> ] <</link>>

$kupperheshe is <<if $height is "short" or $height is "average">> much taller than you <<else>> quite tall <</if>>with <<if $kgender is "man">> an angular, defined jawline and chin. <<else>> with sharp, elegant features that remind you of a painting. <</if>> $kupperhisher skin is papery white, almost gray, and $khisher long, undercut hair falls around $khisher shoulders like a slowly spreading puddle of black ink. $kupperheshe wears a gray, silk coat<<if $kgender is "man">> open over a bare chest, <<else>> over a plain shirt that has a perilously low neckline,<</if>>the material stitched lovingly with silvery embroidery and trimmed around the collar with a mantle of sleek, black feathers. $kupperhisher mask is also birdlike, with a more pronounced beak than yours and colors to match $khisher costume. Despite not even being able to see $khisher face, you’re struck by a powerful feeling of familiarity. “It was a lot,” you say, your voice softer than you intend. You want to ask if you know them, but the words feel stuck in your throat. You’re not even really sure where you are, let alone who this $kgender is. But still you can’t shake the feeling. [[Next|5gardenno6]]

You ponder this as you walk a little deeper into the garden. The $kgender follows you, walking on the path opposite of yours with a row of flowering bushes between you. $kupperhisher hand occasionally skims the same flowers that yours do and every now and then your fingertips touch. “Do I…?” You trail off, trying to gather your thoughts, despite how they slip through your fingers. “Do I know you?” $kupperheshe chuckles and you can see the sharp grin twist $khisher lips into a smirk as $kheshe steps in front of you on the path, blocking your way. “Not yet,” $kheshe says. “But we can certainly fix that.” "[[I don't think we're talking about the same kind of 'knowing'.|7gardensnark7][$snark +=1]]" ♤ "[[I suppose we could, couldn't we?|5gardenkind][$kind +=1]]" ♢ "[[And if I say 'no'?|5gardeng][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

$kupperheshe grins again. “I’m a simple $kgender with simple tastes.” You hum noncommittal in reply and duck around $khimher to continue on your way. $kupperheshe makes no attempt to stop you, but you can feel the way $kheshe is grinning at your back. “Do you have a name?” you ask. The paths are quite even and <<if $ddress is "gown">> you’re careful to hold your skirt up so you don’t trip. <<else>> you’re careful not to let your robe snag on any wayward branches. <</if>> “Ah-ah,” $kheshe says, shaking $khisher head as $kheshe follows you on a parallel path. “Never share names. That is the only rule while you wander here.” “Why?” you ask. “Our names are pieces of ourselves,” $kheshe replies. “Pieces that we might not want, but a piece nonetheless. To share a name is to surrender a part of yourself.” [[Next|5garden8]]

“So magnanimous, Sparrow,” $kheshe says. “I don’t deserve it, though I accept all the same.” You hum noncommittally in reply and duck around $khimher to continue on your way. $kupperheshe makes no attempt to stop you, but you can feel the way $kheshe is grinning at your back. “Do you have a name?” you ask. The paths are quite even and <<if $ddress is "gown">> you’re careful to hold your skirt up so you don’t trip. <<else>> you’re careful not to let your robe snag on any wayward branches. <</if>> “Ah-ah,” $kheshe says, shaking $khisher head as $kheshe follows you on a parallel path. “Never share names. That is the only rule while you wander here.” “Why?” you ask. “Our names are pieces of ourselves,” $kheshe replies. “Pieces that we might not want, but a piece nonetheless. To share a name is to surrender a part of yourself.” [[Next|5garden8]]

The $kgender laughs and the sound is husky and musical. “Are you trying to entice me?” You hum noncommittal in reply and duck around $khimher to continue on your way. $kupperheshe makes no attempt to stop you, but you can feel the way $kheshe is grinning at your back. “Do you have a name?” you ask. The flagstone garden paths are a little uneven and <<if $ddress is "gown">> you have to be careful to hold your skirt up so you don’t trip. <<else>> you have to be careful not to let your robe snag on any wayward branches. <</if>> “Ah-ah,” $kheshe says, shaking $khisher head as $kheshe follows you on a parallel path. “Never share your name. That is the only rule while you wander here.” “Why?” you ask. “Our names are pieces of ourselves,” $kheshe replies. “Pieces that we might not want, but a piece nonetheless. To share a name is to surrender a part of yourself.” [[Next|5garden8]]

You nod, though you’re not sure if it’s you or the wine making the decision. Somewhat distantly, you’re aware of other partygoers suddenly retreating from the floor, but you cannot tear your eyes away from your partner long enough to truly care. $kupperheshe guides your right hand to $khisher shoulder as $khisher left settles around you. <<if $height is "short" or $height is "average">> You feel small and fragile beside $khimher, but somehow safe too. Safer than you should.<<else>> Even standing so close to $khimher, you somehow feel safe. Safer than you should.<</if>> You have so many questions, but they wander just out of your grasp and you forget them altogether when the $kgender begins to lead you around the floor. You’re vaguely aware of the other partygoers staring and realize that they’ve all fallen strangely still and silent. Watching. It feels like there’s cotton stuffed between all of your thoughts, but you’re present enough to sense the animosity in your audience’s gaze. [[Next|5gardeny5]]

You feel strangely compelled to follow the woman, but eventually you decide to go the other way and distract yourself by admiring the painted ceilings and polished floors. Eventually the hall ends where it intersects with another. You go right. This hall is much the same as the one you just left behind. The ceilings depict gatherings of humans dancing, beasts, and strange, pale figures painted with silvery wings. Some of the scenes are vibrant and joyful and others are darkly ominous. You only just manage to tear your eyes away from the paintings when you reach a wide, arched door frame. The doors stand open and beyond them is an enormous conservatory. The night looks in at you through the glass walls and the high, domed ceiling. The air is balmy and warm and just ahead of you is the entrance to a maze. The flowering walls consist of emerald leaves and beautiful, fragrant flowers with thin gauzy petals and glowing, golden veins that cast enough light to see by. [[Next|5maze1]]

$kupperheshe makes another move to step in front of you and you quickly maneuver the other way–too quickly to realize that you’ve been cornered. The $kgender looks very pleased and leans in close to you, one hand planted on the wall near your shoulder. “When we are here,” $kheshe says. “You may call me the Kestrel.” [["And when we are elsewhere? What should I call you then?"|kplay2][$kplay +=1]] ♥ [[You do not shrink away, but you are too cautious to speak out of turn.|kshy2][$kshy +=1]] ♡ [["Is that why you call me Sparrow?"|knosell2][$knosell +=1]] ▲

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen and you cautiously move forward into the maze, following a new pull you can’t quite describe. The corridor is wide with a flagstone path and it opens immediately into a little garden. There are beds and bushes of flowers that shimmer and appear to be some sort of crystal. You slowly walk between the beds, admiring the softness of the strange petals and the brilliant emerald of the leaves. The air is heavy with the scent of freshly turned earth and sweet pollen and there is a warm, phantom breeze pulling at your hair and clothing. You feel almost entranced by it all until something new catches your eye. The little garden you stand in is enclosed by ivy-covered stone walls and there are only two paths which branch away from it–the one you have come from and the one that will take you forward. But just in front of you there is a gap in the wall where the mortar and stone have crumbled and given way to time and tide. You step up onto the crumbled wall to look into the corridor. It’s different from the one you came by. The walls are covered in thorny climbing roses with velvety black petals and leaves and the path looks wild, with tall grass growing up between the flagstones. The path is lit by little wisps of light that hang in the air and you reach out tentatively to touch one. It doesn’t burn, but the glow lingers on your fingertips for a moment after you pull away. [[Next|5maze2]]

You could cross this gap. From what you can tell, it would take you in the complete opposite direction. It’s foreboding, but you can’t deny your curiosity. <<link [[Take the darker path.|Cheat?]]>> [\<<set $kmet to "cheat">>]<</link>> <<link [[Don't chance it.|Don't cheat.]]>> [\<<set $kmet to "nocheat">>]<</link>>

<<if $ddress is "gown">> You lift the hem of your gown and hop down on the other side of the crumbled wall. <<else>> You take care to make sure your costume doesn’t snag on anything as you step down.<</if>> You take a second to orient yourself and when you look back at the crumbled wall, you realize that it has somehow vanished. Which probably doesn’t bode very well. But there’s nothing for it but to press on. If you weren’t willing to get a little lost, you shouldn’t have stepped into the labyrinth in the first place. At least the scenery is still beautiful. The glowing flowers that line the maze’s walls are no less fascinating than they were before. It’s enough of a distraction that it takes a while before you finally notice that you’ve been walking the same path for some time. The corridor has twisted and turned, yes, but there haven’t been any other forks or divergences. You carefully examine the walls around you and then the flagstones beneath your feet. Nothing seems out of place or strange. Nothing stands out from anything else. But you are being herded somewhere. [[Next|kgendermaze]]

You walk on more slowly, searching for a sign of something out of place. When you realize you’ve gone right three times you expect to end up in a loop, circling the same bit of wall. But somehow the path goes on. Then quite abruptly the next bend ends at a doorway. The wood is ancient and cracked and the handle and hinges are badly rusted. There are strange symbols painted in black ink on the lintel above the door, but you can’t make any sense of them. You have absolutely no idea what to expect on the other side, but you feel your curiosity nagging you. And it hasn’t killed you, yet. Still, you hesitate. “Nervous, Sparrow?” You nearly jump out of your skin in fright and turn around sharply, coming face-to-face with: <<link [[a man.|5cheat3]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "man">> <<set $kheshe to "he">> <<set $khimher to "him">> <<set $khishers to "his">> <<set $khisher to "his">> <<set $kupperhishers to "His">> <<set $kupperheshe to "He">> <<set $kupperhisher to "His">> <<set $khandpretty to "handsome">> <<set $kgenderpos to "man's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "He's">> <<set $khesheis to "he's">> <<set $kself to "himself">> <<set $kpretty to "handsome">> ] <</link>> <<link [[a woman.|5cheat3]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "woman">> <<set $kheshe to "she">> <<set $khimher to "her">> <<set $khishers to "hers">> <<set $khisher to "her">> <<set $kupperhishers to "Her">> <<set $kupperheshe to "She">> <<set $kupperhisher to "Her">> <<set $khandpretty to "pretty">> <<set $kgenderpos to "woman's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "She's">> <<set $khesheis to "she's">> <<set $kself to "herself">> <<set $kpretty to "beautiful">> ] <</link>>

$kupperheshe is <<if $height is "short" or $height is "average">> much taller than you <<else>> quite tall <</if>>with <<if $kgender is "man">> an angular, defined jawline and chin. <<else>> with sharp, elegant features that remind you of a painting. <</if>> $kupperhisher skin is papery white, almost gray, and $khisher long, undercut hair falls around $khisher shoulders like a slowly spreading puddle of black ink. $kupperheshe wears a gray, silk coat<<if $kgender is "man">> open over a bare chest <<else>> over a plain shirt that has a perilously low neckline <</if>>that is stitched lovingly with silvery embroidery and trimmed around the collar with a mantle of sleek, black feathers. $kupperhisher mask is also birdlike, with a more pronounced beak than yours and colors to match $khisher costume. “How did you…” You trail off as you glance around, trying to determine what direction $kheshe might have come from, but there is only the long, unbroken corridor you yourself used. $kupperheshe just smiles. There’s something playfully sinister about it and as $kheshe draw a step closer to you, you can finally see $khisher eyes clearly through the mask. The sclera itself is black, like a wild animal’s, while the center is a burning blue so bright it seems to glow. [[Next|5cheat4]]

“Do they make you nervous?” the $kgender asks, $khisher lips just beside your ear. “They shouldn’t. Can’t you feel their jealousy?” “Jealousy?” You try to pull together some semblance of rational thought. “Why?” “Because they will never be you,” $kheshe says. “And they know that.” You're breathless and your feet are moving without you. “Why would they want to be me?” you ask, even though the words are hard to string together. You don't even know what you're feeling. There’s euphoria, but just at the edge of your senses there’s something else. You feel the $kgenderpos quiet, rumbling laugh as much as you hear it before $khisher lips brush your ear. “Because we are surrounded by sin and decadence and you are still the only thing worth looking at.” [[Next|5gardeny6]]

You shiver and pull back far enough to look $khimher in the eye. $kupperhisher stare captivates you and you cannot bring yourself to look away. You dance on and on, losing track of how long it has been and only just barely noticing when others join you on the floor. You feel simultaneously numb and overwhelmed. Blissfully empty and still full to breaking. Perfume and color press in on you from all sides, bleeding together into a cacophonous blur. But all you can look at is your partner. You’re still lost in a hazy fog when the $kgender gently takes your hand and leads you off into the darkness of the garden. You follow your feet mindlessly, walking the same way you danced. [[Next|5gardeny7]]

The noise and music of the party recede to the edge of your awareness as you step into an alcove hidden by twisting tree branches and ivy that form a natural arbor tunnel. Little lanterns hang overhead and the scent of perfume has yielded to the sweet, dusty smell of pollen and petrichor. At the center of the alcove is a small pond, crowded with reeds and shimmering, golden lotuses. “You’ve been great fun,” your partner says as $kheshe guides you close to the water. “Many would say you’ve been foolish, but the only difference between foolishness and bravery is the outcome. So many of your kind are too fearful to give themselves to the spirit of the Revel.” “The Revel?” you ask. The $kgender smiles as $kheshe faces you. “The celebration of folk and kin.” “Celebration of what?” “Life itself. This very moment in existence. This next breath of air. Everything and nothing,” $kheshe replies. “The revel is about wonder and chaos and the beauty of the unknown. We were pleased to have you.” [[Next|5gardeny8]]

$kupperhisher voice is sweetly tempting–beguiling. You shake your head and frown at your companion. “I don’t even know your name…” $kupperheshe chuckles. “You may call me the Kestrel,” $kheshe says. $kupperheshe reaches out $khisher hand and traces your bottom lip with $khisher thumb. “But know that the Revel has but one rule: you must never share your name. To give your name is to give away a part of yourself—to give power to another.” [["What if I wanted to?"|kplay1][$kplay +=1]] ♥ [["What would you do with it?"|kshy1][$kshy +=1]] ♡ [["When why warn me?"|knosell1][$knosell +=1]] ▲

Your breath catches and for the first time since drinking the wine a flicker of rationale momentarily reasserts itself. “What would you do with it?” you ask. It’s a serious question and you don’t mean to sound coy, but the Kestrel lets out a low, pleased sound anyway. “Terrible things,” $kheshe says and something about $khisher tone and smile is equal parts playful and menacing. It’s a momentarily sobering realization. “Wonderfully, terrible things. That which is surrendered tastes the sweetest.” [[Next|5garden9]]

You feel bolder than you should. Wreckless. Weightless, almost. On some intellectual level, you’re aware that you’re playing with fire, but you can’t resist. There’s something captivating about $khimher. Dangerous. Like the void calling you from a great height. When you wake from this haze, you will simply blame the wine. “What if I want to?” you ask. Fire sparks in the Kestrel’s eyes and $khisher grin sharpens. $kupperheshe steps closer and pulls you firmly against $khimher “Oh, don’t tempt me, Sparrow,” $kheshe whispers, though $kheshe looks pleased all the same. “That which is surrendered is always the most thrilling.” [[Next|5garden9]]

For the first time all evening, the haze of wine clears enough for you to realize that you might be in genuine danger. It’s a momentarily sobering thought, but you struggle to hold onto it as the Kestrel begins to circle you with slow, ponderous steps. You feel like a fly caught in a web or a rabbit in snare. “Why?” you ask, frowning at your companion, forcing the word out around the fog in your head. $kupperheshe watches you with a quiet intensity that you can’t quite grasp the meaning of. You are careful not to take your eyes off of $khimher. Even as $kheshe moves around behind you, you watch $khimher from the corner of your eye. “Why what, Sparrow?” the Kestrel asks, but there’s something about the curl of $khisher lips and the way $kheshe playfully tilts $khisher head that makes you think they already know what you mean. “If it would give you that kind of power… why warn me? Why not just take it?” The Kestrel pauses and for a long moment $kheshe is silent as $kheshe considers you. Then the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end when the $kgender moves in closer to stand just behind you. One elegant, long-fingered hand ghosts up your side and you can feel the damp warmth of $khisher breath on the back of your neck. You shiver involuntarily. “Some find a thrill in taking,” the Kestrel says in what is barely a whisper. “But I prefer that which is surrendered.” [[Next|5garden9]]

You step away from the Kestrel, trying still to clear your head. Being near $khimher seems to have an odd effect on your mind and you’re forgetting something. You know you are. But it’s like pushing against a brick wall. Thankfully, $kheshe keeps $khisher distance, but $khisher amusement is gone and replaced by a strangely solemn expression. You don’t know how to read it. “You’ve surprised me, Sparrow,” $kheshe says suddenly. You turn back to face them again, frowning. $kupperheshe is smiling faintly still, but it looks much more genuine than before. “Surprised you how?” $kupperheshe casts a long, admiring gaze around the garden. “You’re truly a fascinating creature. Humans can be so tirelessly dull. But you…” $kupperhisher eyes slide over to you and a smirk pulls at $khisher lips. “Would that we could linger in this dream a little longer. There is so much still to show you.” //Dream.// It’s like the word itself shakes something loose in your mind and the haze lifts in an instant. Your mind clears. //Dreaming.// //You’re dreaming.// [[Next|5garden10]]

On instinct, you lash out with your power to break the dream and feel yourself slam full-force against what feels like a wall. You try again, but it doesn’t budge. You’re familiar with the concept of lucid dreams. When you were younger, they were a near nightly occurrence and you struggled to wake yourself up. As you’ve gotten older, they’ve become less frequent overall and those few you do experience you can usually end with relatively little effort. But you’re not sure if that’s a consequence of control or age. Either way, you can //feel// the dream—the same as you did when $rname was toying with you. But on reflection, it seems more like $rname had simply participated in a dream that already existed. This is different. This isn’t a creation of //your// mind and you have no true power here. You’re trapped. [[Next|5garden11]]

You round on the Kestrel. $kupperhisher figure is still crystal clear to you, even as the dream seems to be slowly unraveling. The colors and sound have lost their crystal clarity and are beginning to blend together in a haze. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but let me //go//,” you demand. $kupperheshe chuckles and it’s infuriating. You can’t even tell if $kheshe said the word on purpose or not. Not that it matters... “You were enjoying yourself a moment ago,” $kheshe says and a playfully malevolent grin pulls at the corner of $khisher mouth. “Nothing has truly changed, Sparrow.” [[Fuck that (aggressively).|agro1][$khos +=1]] ✿ [[Fuck that (diplomatically).|dip1][$kdip +=1]] 🏵

You lean back against the wall, trying to look at ease and comfortable despite the Kestrel’s nearness. You don’t really feel threatened. If the Kestrel wanted to hurt you, $kheshe surely could have done so by now. But there is something overwhelming about $khisher presence. You can’t really put it into words. $kupperhisher nearness makes it difficult to focus on anything else. $kupperheshe grins and reaches up to drag the backs of $khisher fingers against your cheek. $kupperhisher skin is chilled to the touch and while it isn't necessarily unpleasant, it is enough to startle you. “You may call me whatever you wish.” You nod and you’re not sure anymore if you’re holding $khisher gaze to appear calm or if you can’t bear to look away. “Mm, I’ll keep that in mind,” you say. [[Next|5garden7no]]

You’re not sure how to answer $khimher without inviting something you may not be ready for. So you stay quiet and observe. The Kestrel seems to be aware of what you’re thinking and grins. $kupperheshe gently traces $khisher fingers along your jaw to your chin and gently lifts your chin so you have to look at $khimher. At this proximity, you can see the eerie black of $khisher sclera and that the blue of $khisher eyes almost burns. Like cold fire. “You’ve surprised me, Sparrow,” $kheshe says suddenly. $kupperheshe is smiling faintly still, but it looks much more genuine than before. It seems driven by genuine pleasure and not mocking irony. “Surprised you how?” you ask. $kupperheshe casts a long, admiring gaze around the garden. “You’re truly a fascinating creature. Humans can be so tirelessly dull. But you…” $kupperhisher eyes slide over to you and a smirk pulls at $khisher lips. “Would that we could linger together in this dream a little longer. There is so much still to show you.” [[Next|gardenno9]]

$kupperheshe chuckles and it sounds just ever so slightly condescending. “It is,” $kheshe says. You nod, trying to ignore $khisher proximity. It’s obvious that $kheshe is angling for a reaction and you’re not willing to give it. “And out of curiosity, what happens to those who give their name?” The Kestrel smirks at you, seemingly amused, and takes a step back to give you room to breathe. It’s an unexpectedly benevolent gesture. “I suppose that depends on the taker,” $kheshe says. “Some are cruel and some are kind.” “And what are you?” you ask. $kupperheshe barks out a laugh and their smile sharpens into something quietly sinister. “Would you like to find out?” [[Next|5garden7no]]

You’re caught somewhere between dangerous curiosity and caution. “Do I frighten you, Sparrow?” $kheshe asks as $kheshe drags $khisher knuckles over your cheek. “Should I be frightened?” you counter. Even if $kheshe did scare you, you would not say so. $kupperheshe seems too pleased with the prospect. The Kestrel’s lips curl into a smirk. “No,” $kheshe says finally. “You have nothing to fear from me, Sparrow. The hunt is only thrilling if your prey wishes to be caught.” [[Next|5garden7no]]

//Dream.// It’s like the word shakes something loose in your mind and the haze lifts in an instant. Your thoughts become clear. //Dreaming.// //You’re dreaming.// On instinct, you lash out with your power to break the dream and feel yourself slam full-force against what feels like a wall. You try again, but it doesn’t budge. [[Next|gardenno10]]

You’re familiar with the concept of lucid dreams. When you were younger, they were a near nightly occurrence and you struggled to wake yourself up. As you’ve gotten older, they’ve become less frequent overall and those few you do experience you can usually end with relatively little effort. But you’re not sure if that’s a consequence of control or age. Either way, you can //feel// the dream–the same as you did when $rname was toying with you. But on reflection, it seems more like $rname had simply participated in a dream that already existed. This is different. This isn’t a creation of //your// mind and you have no true power here. You’re trapped. You round on the Kestrel. $kupperhisher figure is still crystal clear to you, even as the dream seems to be slowly unraveling. The colors and sound have lost their crystal clarity and are beginning to blend together in a haze. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but let me //go//,” you demand. [[Next|gardenno11]]

$kupperheshe chuckles and it’s infuriating. You can’t tell if $kheshe said the word on purpose or not. It also doesn’t seem to matter. “You were enjoying yourself a moment ago,” $kheshe says and a playfully malevolent grin pulls at the corner of $khisher mouth. “Nothing has truly changed, Sparrow.” [[Well, fuck that (aggressively).|agro1][$khos +=1]] ✿ [[Yeah, fuck that (diplomatically).|dip1][$kdip +=1]] 🏵

You strike at the barrier again, half in an attempt to escape and half just to convey your real feelings. “You’ll hurt yourself,” the Kestrel warns you. $kupperhisher tone is flat and bored as $kheshe watches you with an inscrutable expression. You feel like you’re being tested somehow, but you don’t care. $rname said you lacked finesse, which is true enough. What control you’ve built, you’ve used to hone your ability to block out psychic interference. $rname also warned you that you could potentially hurt someone with that lack of finesse—by throwing your whole being against their psyche. You narrow your eyes thoughtfully. The Kestrel appears to you with the same clarity that $rname did during your first encounter and while astral projecting. It’s a wild guess, but if that means that $rname was there and present with you in some form—perhaps by tying $rhisher psyche to yours—then the same might be true for the Kestrel right here and now. [[Next|agro12]]

The idea of being stuck in a perpetual dream is something you’ve never really considered before. Granted, you never knew that manipulating dreams was even possible and now your mind can’t help but plot out every scenario to its natural conclusion. In your sleep, do you perceive the passage of time differently than you do in the waking world? Would it be possible for this dream to feel like it was lasting an eternity, only for you to wake up just a few minutes after laying down? It’s a gruesome thought. So, you //could// keep banging your head against the proverbial wall, but are you willing to hurt yourself and still potentially accomplish nothing? You watch the Kestrel carefully, weighing your options. Surely “waking” you had to be an intentional thing. $kupperheshe was far too pleased with $kself for it to be otherwise. And if the Kestrel meant to truly harm you, $kheshe had plenty of opportunity for it when you were under the effects of the wine. Moreover, $kheshe wouldn’t have warned you about sharing your name either. $kupperheshe would have gladly taken that power. [[Next|dip12]]

$rname also said that the fae could evade your ability to perceive them, but being aware of that makes you realize that you can //feel// the hole in your perception–a blind spot that $kheshe carves out for $kself. Which doesn’t mean that the Kestrel isn’t present with you. It just means that $kheshe is hiding $kself. It’s a risk, but you’re not in the mood for a peaceful discussion. You lash out again, but instead of attacking the barrier you can feel containing you, you focus instead on the Kestrel and the blank spot in your perception. You feel your power connect, as it did with the barrier, and it stings like throwing a punch. But the Kestrel physically //reels//. $kupperheshe staggers back a step with such force that $khisher mask is knocked off $khisher face and $kheshe falls to one knee. [[Next|agro13]]

The effect is almost instantaneous and //something// gives out. The vision around you starts breaking down and the colors begin running together. But just like $rname, the Kestrel’s figure remains perfectly clear to you. With the mask gone, you can see that $kheshe is <<if $kgender is "man">> just as wildly handsome <<else>> just as incredibly beautiful <</if>> as you’d expected $khimher to be. $kupperhisher eyes are bright and sharp and $khisher skin is so smooth that it looks carved from marble… You’re taken aback when $kheshe looks up at you and you’re met with something like awe. And //excitement//. $kupperheshe is practically fit to burst, with $khisher lips stretched wide in a feral smile. You brace yourself for some sort of retaliation, but it never comes. “Oh, thank you, Sparrow,” $kheshe says, practically purring every word. “This has been—” $kupperheshe sucks in a deep, satisfied breath–“this has been exhilarating. You truly have no idea.” $kupperheshe rises to $khisher feet, still smiling. “Please, allow me to reward you for being such good fun.” [[Next|agro14]]

“Yeah, no thanks,” you say. “I’m not sure I want to know what you consider a reward.” The Kestrel just grins. “It is information, Sparrow. Nothing more,” $kheshe says. “The exile you’re searching for–you will find it where you began.” It takes you a half-second to process the extremely cryptic and unhelpful 'hint'. “Where I—what does that even //mean//?” you demand. “You’ll figure it out,” $kheshe replies. “Goodbye, Sparrow. For now, at least. I could not resist you if I tried.” The dream collapses before you can get the words out and you feel the ground slide out from under you. You fall. [[End Chapter 5]]

“Reconsidering, Sparrow?” the Kestrel asks, $khisher tone equal parts curious and mocking. “You mean surrender?” you wonder, an idea taking shape in your mind. “Because no. I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. Ever.” It is probably a stupid plan. Just because $kheshe had said $kheshe //preferred// something surrendered, didn’t mean $kheshe wasn’t willing to just take it. On the other hand, this all seems to be a game to $khimher. There seem to be rules at work that you don’t quite understand, but this is better than giving in. If nothing else, you can deny the Kestrel what $kheshe wants. “Well, then I suppose we’ll be here for a very long time,” the Kestrel replies. $kupperhisher tone is lighter—almost playful. “Guess so,” you agree. “I hope you have enough wine.” [[Next|dip13]]

$kupperheshe chuckles and there’s something condescending in $khisher tone. “Do you really wish to prolong this tedium?” “Yep.” When the Kestrel does not answer you right away, you’re half-convinced that $kheshe might really follow through on the threat. But you don’t waver. Despite his protests to the contrary, Carter more or less raised you and you know how to stand your ground. You’re not surprised or caught off-guard when you feel something prodding at the edge of your awareness. You pull yourself inward to put an end to it. You’re not quite sure what the Kestrel is capable of, but you’ve seen $rname display something like mind control and you suspect the Kestrel can do something similar. Or similar enough while you’re dreaming. You //are// surprised, when the Kestrel begins to laugh. You’re even more taken aback to realize that it’s genuine. [[Next|dip14]]

“I’m not joking,” you say, trying not to sound petulant even though you’re not totally sure what else you’re supposed to be feeling. “Ah, Sparrow,” the Kestrel sighs with obvious pleasure. $kupperheshe is even looking at you differently, as if $kheshe is suddenly seeing someone else. “I have no doubt that the two of us could stand here for an eternity and you would still not bend.” You don’t necessarily like the sound of that, but that doesn’t mean you won’t //try//. “We could.” The Kestrel chuckles again and reaches up to remove $khisher mask. You’re not quite sure what prompts it, but $kheshe is just as much of a feral beauty as you thought $kheshe would be. “You speak as if it is not your fierceness that I find so intoxicating,” $kheshe says. “To make peace, I offer a reward for your patience.” [[Next|dip15]]

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not sure if I should accept any kind of reward from you.” Something about your answer makes the Kestrel smile a little wider, but it quickly fades and $khisher expression becomes oddly solemn. “Your quarry—the exile,” $kheshe begins. “You’ll find it where you began.” “The…?” It takes you half a second to realize what $kheshe is saying. “Wait–what does that even mean?” $kupperheshe grins. “You’ll figure it out,” $kheshe says. “Good-bye, Sparrow. For now, at least. I could not resist your allure, even if I tried.” You’re not sure if it is the Kestrel’s words or something else, but the world around you suddenly begins to dissolve. Objects and colors lose their sharpness and melt into one another. You have just enough time to catch the Kestrel’s eye again before you feel the ground slide out from under you and you fall. [[End Chapter 5]]

You reflexively step back until you find yourself pressed against the wood of the door. There’s something about the way $kheshe looks at you that makes you feel hunted. Your heart pounds and your chest feels too tight to breathe. You’re not sure if what you feel is just fear or fear and something else You half-expect $khimher to cage you in against the door, but instead $kheshe simply reaches around you and turns the handle. You instinctively shuffle a step forward, so as not to fall backward into the room beyond, and you bump into $khimher. The $kgender seems pleased with your nearness, but even so $kheshe steps back to open the door fully. “You first, Sparrow,” $kheshe says. As you have nowhere else to go, you don’t argue and simply go ahead of $khimher. The initial passage is rather narrow, but quickly ends in a set of rough hewn steps that open into an enormous, natural cavern. The floor is dirt and stone and the ceiling is quartz-laden granite. There are half-crumbled pillars and walls of some kind of forgotten structure and natural arches of stone created by time. Lush ferns and ivies have flourished in the half-light, some of them taking root in the walls and some draped over whatever bit of stone they can cling to. [[Next|5cheat5]]

Everything else is, well, everything. Everywhere you look there are thousands of little knick knacks and baubles, jewels, and crystals. Some hang from the ceiling beside old oil lanterns and strings of paper cranes and others drip from the stone arches and still-standing, manmade columns. There are old paintings stacked together against the walls and old, silk rugs. You pass by stacks of ancient books, rolled scrolls of battered parchment, and a half-dozen old steamer trunks. Some of them are laden with old toys and others are filled with gold coins and jewels that spill out onto the floor. Others still are empty or held shut with rusted locks. Everywhere you look there’s something different–weapons and shields, silken scarves, carved masks, pots and jars and bottles of every size, globes, kites, wind chimes, instruments, and maps. You think you can hear music playing from somewhere, but it’s faint and it seems to change each time you turn your head. All of the colors are vibrant and what could have been a cluttered mess almost feels like a shrine. You struggle to speak as you try to absorb every detail and you nearly forget all about your new companion until you catch $khimher watching you in your peripheral vision. [[Next|5cheat6]]

$kupperheshe gestures vaguely to the cavern. “Do you like it?” the $kgender asks. “Where…?” You trail off in a whisper as you turn to face $khimher. Despite the beauty all around you, something feels sacred and mournful about this place. Like a graveyard. “Where are we?” $kupperheshe walks deeper into the cavern and you follow, as if pulled along by a string. “It’s a cavern of memories,” $kheshe says over $khisher shoulder. You frown a little. “//A// cavern? Are there others?” “Of course,” $kheshe replies. “Thousands of them. Some are simply more forgotten than others.” [[Next|5cheat7]]

You have a lot of questions in general, but there's something about your companion that piques your curiosity. “What’s your name?” $kupperheshe turns to face you again and clicks $khisher tongue. “Ah-ah,” $kheshe scolds you. “Never share a name. Our names are pieces of ourselves––pieces that we might not want, but a piece nonetheless. To share a name is to surrender a part of yourself.” $kupperheshe takes a step closer to you, each movement calculated and graceful like a big cat. A smirk curls across $khisher lips. “Unless you wish to surrender?” "[[You first.|5cheatsnark][$snark +=1]]" ♤ "[[Ah, no thank you.|5cheatkind][$kind +=1]]" ♢ "[[Hell no.|5cheatgrumpy][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

The $kgender grins again––this time with too many teeth that are a little too pointed. “Oh, how I have wondered what it would be like to be cut by that tongue of yours,” $kheshe says in almost a whisper. “You may call me the Kestrel.” [[Next|5cheat8]]

The $kgender chuckles. “Take care, dear Sparrow. Your kindness will not be returned or rewarded here,” $kheshe coos. Then $kheshe dips into an elaborate bow. “You may call me the Kestrel.” [[Next|5cheat8]]

The $kgender barks out a rough laugh and grins wide. “//Good//. That would spoil the thrill of the hunt,” $kheshe says. Then $kheshe dips into an elaborate bow. “You may call me the Kestrel.” [[Next|5cheat8]]

You nod, trying to hide your unease. It’s hard to get a read on this $kgender. You don’t //feel// as if you’re in danger, but if there is such a thing as “affable malevolence” then the Kestrel embodies it. “You’re a fascinating little thing, Sparrow,” the Kestrel says suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. $kupperhisher expression is strange—torn somewhere between reverence and pondering. “What brought you here? Were you not tempted by the party?” There’s something about the way $kheshe asks the question that makes you think $kheshe is asking something else entirely and you’re not completely sure how to answer $khimher. “I suppose I wasn’t,” you reply. You hadn’t given it much thought at the time. “I was just curious, I guess.” The Kestrel hums in understanding. The noise is quiet and full of wonder and $kheshe looks at you as if you’re a mystery $kheshe can’t parse. “You’ve strayed far from the beaten path, Sparrow,” $kheshe says eventually, still watching you with a keen interest. “Some might say you’ve been foolish.” [[Next|5cheat9]]

[[You try to supress a smile. Teasing the Kestrel is probably playing with fire, but you can't resist.|5cheatplay][$kplay +=1]] ♥ [[You offer a shy smile and reach up to fiddle with your mask.|5cheatshy][$kshy +=1]] ♡ "[[So you think I've been foolish?|5cheatnosell][$knosell +=1]]" ▲

“And you?” you ask. “Is that what you think?” The $kgender grins wolfishly back at you. “Oh, little bird, if only I could show you what I think,” $kheshe whispers. [[Next|5cheat10]]

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that, I guess,” you say. Because //this// feels foolish. Being in this space, alone with this $kgender, feels dangerously foolish. “Fortune favors the bold, little bird,” the Kestrel replies. For just a second, you think maybe you see a strange softness in $khisher expression, but it’s gone in the next instant. [[Next|5cheat10]]

The Kestrel is almost as frustrating to speak with as $rname. But where speaking with $rname feels like playing checkers with a five-year-old, speaking with the Kestrel feels like hot potato with a hand grenade. “No. The only difference between foolishness and courage are the results,” $kheshe replies, seeming pleased. [[Next|5cheat10]]

Silence stretches out between you, interrupted only by the occasional whisper of a half-familiar melody that is gone before you can place it, and the dripping of water from somewhere deeper in the cavern. The Kestrel watches you intently with an inscrutable expression, $khisher strange eyes never wandering from you. “There are not many who could find this place,” $kheshe says finally. “What do you mean?” you ask. The $kgender simply shrugs and offers you an enigmatic smile. “Only that this place does not offer its secrets lightly,” $kheshe says. $kupperheshe traces $khisher bottom lip thoughtfully with $khisher thumb. “It is interesting that your instincts would lead you here… but I suppose you’re familiar enough with finding those things that are hidden.” [[Next|5cheat11]]

$kupperhisher words hit you strangely and you frown to yourself as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Whatever the Kestrel’s true intentions might be, there //is// a game at work here. But for some reason, it’s hard to hold onto the thought. It feels like your head is full of fog and the feeling has nagged you this whole adventure––from the very beginning. But when you try to think back on it, you don’t know where the beginning began. The vestibule, yes, but before that…? It’s like knowing the melody of a song, but not remembering the words… It’s like… It’s like trying to remember a dream after waking. You freeze. //A dream//. [[Next|5cheat12]]

It’s like the word itself shakes something loose in your mind and a dam gives out. Your head clears and every detail rushes to you in screaming color and clarity. You can feel the layers of the illusion around you and the press of someone else’s psyche against yours. This is a dream. You’re //dreaming//. You’re more than a little familiar with the concept of lucid dreams. When you were younger, they were a near nightly occurrence and you struggled to wake yourself up. As you’ve gotten older, they’ve become less frequent overall and those few you do experience you can usually end with relatively little effort. At present, you can //feel// the dream–the same as you did when $rname was toying with you. But on reflection, it seems more like $rname had simply participated in a dream that already existed. This is different. This isn’t a creation of //your// mind. You have no true power here. You’re trapped. [[Next|5cheat13]]

You jerk to attention at the sound of loud, slow clapping and turn around sharply to look at the Kestrel, who is watching you with a glint in $khisher eyes. “I admit, I’m a little disappointed,” the $kgender said, $khisher hands falling back to $khisher sides as a slow, pleased smile unfurls across $khisher expression. “You figured it out much quicker than I thought you would. I hoped that we would have longer together.” You’re not sure if $kheshe is genuinely impressed with you or if you’re being mocked. And you don’t really care. “Let me go,” you say. “Come now, Sparrow,” the Kestrel cajoles you even though $khisher eyes bright with what almost looks like excitement. Like $kheshe is anticipating something. “Nothing’s changed. Why must we end this party so soon?” “Said as if I chose to be here in the first place,” you reply tartly. “This game is over. I don’t know what you want and I don’t care. Let me go.” The $kgender pouts and seems to consider this for a long moment. “I’m afraid I can’t,” $kheshe says and you can see just the shadow of another infuriating smile pulling at the corner of $khisher mouth. “We still have business to settle, you and I. And I see no cause to hurry our time together.” [[Fuck that. Aggressively.|5intuitagg][$khos +=1]] ✿ [[Fuck that, but diplomatically.|5intuitdip][$kdip +=1]] 🏵

There are about a half dozen responses right at the tip of your tongue, but you know there’s no point in arguing. Instead, you start examining your surroundings—those that you can physically see and those that you can’t. The dream around you is so lifelike you can still feel the warmth of the night air against your cheeks and the softness of the ground under your feet. If not for the other presence you feel butting up against your psyche, you might not think it was a dream at all. Unfortunately, you and $rname haven’t really gotten to any of those “lessons” $rheshe promised you, so you’ll just have to improvise–which is what you’ve done for the last ten years anyway. “You are still searching for the girl.” You perk a little at the Kestrel’s words and then narrow your eyes. “What do you know about Casey?” The Kestrel seems pleased to have caught your attention and smirks. “You handled yourself well in your meeting with the shades.” A shiver runs down your spine. $kupperheshe has been watching you. And you can’t help but wonder for how long. [[Next|5agg2]]

For a man with the sensibilities and elegance of a wet cat, Carter did spend the majority of your formative years telling you that fighting didn’t always work. Sometimes it was enough to just be //smarter//. You eye the Kestrel thoughtfully. If $kheshe was looking to hurt you, you’re almost certain that $kheshe would have done it by now. You’re especially confident in this assumption seeing that you’ve been more or less at $khisher mercy this entire—and weren’t even aware of it. “You are still searching for the girl.” You perk a little at the Kestrel’s words and then narrow your eyes. “What do you know about Casey?” The Kestrel seems pleased to have caught your attention and smirks. “You handled yourself well in your meeting with the shades.” A shiver runs down your spine. You know instantly that this seeming non-sequitur isn’t a compliment. It’s a warning. $kupperheshe has already been watching you. And you can’t help but wonder for how long. “Do you still seek the exile?” [[Next|5indip1]]

“Do you still seek the exile?” The question seems to come out of nowhere. The Kestrel still doesn’t seem to be aware of what you’re thinking, so it seems like $kheshe is just trying to tempt you to linger a little longer. “What do you know about that?” you ask The $kgender hums and shoots you a sly look. “Humor me here a little longer and I’ll tell you.” “Or I could take it,” you say. It’s a blatant lie. You know in theory that you should be able to read the Kestrel the same way you did $rname and in theory, you should be able to make it hurt. With any luck, that would force $khimher to break the connection between you and release the dream. But truly you can only //try//. [[Next|5agg3]]

The Kestrel seems to know this and grins. “Do it.” [[Next|5agg4]]

You hesitate. That was not the reaction you expected—though you’re realizing that maybe you should have. And now you have no real choice. You’re not totally sure how to go about it and you take a moment to tentatively prod at the presence you can feel butting up against your psyche. It’s strange. $rname said before that the fae could probably hide from you and that seems to be mostly true, because at this proximity, it’s not so much like the Kestrel is a presence as $kheshe is an //absence//. Like a hole in your socks. You would have never noticed it under normal circumstances, but now—maybe because of the affect $kheshe is having—you can outline it clearly. In the back of your mind, you remember $rname warning you that you could hurt someone by brute forcing your techniques, but right now you’re not especially concerned for the Kestrel’s safety. Moreover, hesitation won’t make the task ahead easier, so you brace yourself and make your move. [[Next|5agg5]]

You think back to what you did when you were practicing astral projection with $rname and instead of trying to touch or even attach to the Kestrel’s psyche, you wrap yourself around it. It isn’t a physical thing you can see happening, but you can feel it. Like drawing someone close for a hug. And the $kgenderpos expression shifts a little, as if $kheshe can feel something change, but $kheshe doesn’t attempt to stop you or retaliate. You breathe in. And then drive forward. You do exactly what $rname warned you not to, and slam your full strength into the Kestrel’s psyche, trying to crush it. You’ve told Carter before that manipulating your powers is like moving a phantom limb. It’s not something you can see, but you //feel// it. [[Next|5agg6]]

Then two things happen at once. First, the Kestrel drops to $khisher knees with a choked noise. Then something shatters and the vision around you rapidly begins to unravel. You tighten your hold. You can //feel// the Kestrel’s thoughts just under the surface and press harder to make sense of them. //An old farmhouse with freshly painted siding. A dark woods. An old barn.// It feels more like the thoughts are being telegraphed or offered to you and just before the dream collapses entirely, you see the Kestrel’s pleased, beatific smile. Then you fall. [[End Chapter 5]]

“Yes,” you say, even as you eye the Kestrel thoughtfully. You know that they’re running some kind of game, but you can’t quite figure out the rules. There’s something else at work and you’re realizing that your role may or may not be purely incidental… The Kestrel nods, though $kheshe looks pleased with $kself. “Then I may know something that can help you,” $kheshe says. “Linger with me a little longer and I will share.” You’re pretty sure that you have a very different idea of “a little longer” than the Kestrel does. Still, what choice do you have? You nod, but even as you do so, you reach out with your other senses to examine this dream you’re stuck in. If the Kestrel is affecting your mind, then you can only assume that $kheshe has tied $kself to you somehow. It reminds you of $rname and how $rheshe piggybacked your foray into astral projection. Eventually, you find it. If you were not specifically looking for something amiss, you would have completely overlooked the feeling of something else butting up against your psyche. Especially since it feels more like the absence of something. It’s like noticing that something has been moved in a room, but not being able to name it. [[Next|5indip2]]

After some prodding you can identify where your psyche ends and $khishers begins, but also where you both connect. It reminds you a little of how you do readings. “Do you even understand what you’re looking for?” the Kestrel asks with a patronizing grin. For a moment, you genuinely reconsider just punching $khimher. But hold back. “Well, I assume the exile is a //shade//,” you reply flatly. “It used to be,” $kheshe agrees. “But //shades// are not a single entity. They are a collective. Whether that collective consists of multitudes or of just two individuals, they are never alone.” “Why?” you ask. The Kestrel simply shrugs. “Why anything? Why do other creatures prefer to be solitude? It is simply what they are. New collectives of shades may form together and break apart again, but they are never alone. That isn’t in their nature.” [[Next|5indip3]]

You frown as you think back to your and $rnamepos meeting in the woods. “So, if it isn’t a shade anymore, what is it?” “A good question,” the Kestrel says as $kheshe rubs thoughtfully at $khisher bottom lip. “It is something new and I’m afraid the Courts have no love for those things that are new.” “You mean the fae courts?” you ask. “Why would they care?” $kupperheshe shrugs indifferently. “The Courts have watched the relentless march of time for thousands of years. They have seen history retell itself again and again—like a serpent forever swallowing its tail. They have nothing left to learn. To discover. That which is new is not a thing of wonder. It is an aberration to the Morning and an end to the chaos which is the lifeblood of the Shadows,” $kheshe says. “Imagine reading a book you have memorized word for word, only to start again and realize that it has changed. That what you //know// is no longer.” You’re not sure what it is about the Kestrel’s words—if it is $khisher wistful tone or the strangely empty expression on $khisher face—but it makes your heart ache. It sounds like a kind of torture—to have nothing left to explore and discover while simultaneously fearing such things. [[Next|5indip4]]

The Kestrel suddenly frowns and rubs at the center of $khisher chest, as if trying to soothe a phantom feeling. $kupperhisher expression seems genuinely distressed and the realization catches you by surprise. Are you affecting the Kestrel? Or is it an unintended consequence of the dream? When the Kestrel finally meets your eyes again, you can tell that $kheshe doesn’t understand it either. There’s also something else that you can’t quite identify in the look $kheshe is giving you. Fear? Fascination? “Go back to where you began,” $kheshe says, suddenly. “That is where you will find the exile.” You’re caught off-guard by the Kestrel’s sudden admission, but before you can say as much or ask any questions the dream dissolves around you. And you fall. [[End Chapter 5]]

You turn away from the crumbling brick. You’re already in an unfamiliar place—you hardly need to complicate matters even further by giving into your curiosity. You spend another minute or so admiring the flowers before double checking which path will take you forward and forging on. You take several turns and pass through a few more strange courtyards. One is filled with an orchard of emerald vines with that sag with the weight of opalescent berries. Another houses a small pond filled with fish that look like they were forged from silver and gold. You take the time to admire every new sight, but eventually press on. It feels like you’re being pulled forward, though by what you can’t be sure. Even so, you readily follow the feeling until you reach what you assume is the center of the labyrinth. And it’s breathtaking. [[Next|5dc1]]

It is a large, open courtyard with velvety, green clover and fireflies that dance and sway with lights as bright as candles. Trees dot the field and while the wood varies in color from coppery brown to the darkest black, the branches are adorned, not with leaves, but with clusters of glowing crystals. Some are jagged and raw and others have been worn smooth and tumbled by the wind. Each one is a little different and the colors vary from the deepest, bloody red to the most brilliant violet. In the shade of the trees, there are horses gathered at a small pond. You draw a little closer and realize abruptly that they are not flesh and blood, but //marble//. Some are white like alabaster or black like obsidian, and one young foal is rosy pink with golden veins. They do not startle at your presence and one raises its head to acknowledge you with a snort. You carefully reach out to it and when it doesn’t shy away you drag your hand over its flank. Even as you watch the animal’s muscles flex and twitch, your hand feels nothing but smooth, cold stone. [[Next|5dc2]]

The horse nickers at you and offers a playful nudge with its snout before moving away to find another patch of grass to graze on. You turn then to the trees and drag your fingers over the tree bark. It certainly feels like normal wood. You look then to one of the low branches and reach out to touch one of the small, crystalline growths. It comes off the branch readily and falls into your palm. It’s bright red like a fire opal with a center of molten gold. “Show some manners.” You jump at the voice and turn around quickly to find yourself facing: <<link [[a man.|5dc3]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "man">> <<set $kheshe to "he">> <<set $khimher to "him">> <<set $khishers to "his">> <<set $khisher to "his">> <<set $kupperhishers to "His">> <<set $kupperheshe to "He">> <<set $kupperhisher to "His">> <<set $khandpretty to "handsome">> <<set $kgenderpos to "man's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "He's">> <<set $khesheis to "he's">> <<set $kself to "himself">> <<set $kpretty to "handsome">> ] <</link>> <<link [[a woman.|5dc3]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "woman">> <<set $kheshe to "she">> <<set $khimher to "her">> <<set $khishers to "hers">> <<set $khisher to "her">> <<set $kupperhishers to "Her">> <<set $kupperheshe to "She">> <<set $kupperhisher to "Her">> <<set $khandpretty to "pretty">> <<set $kgenderpos to "woman's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "She's">> <<set $khesheis to "she's">> <<set $kself to "herself">> <<set $kpretty to "beautiful">> ] <</link>>

$kupperheshe is <<if $height is "short" or $height is "average">> much taller than you <<else>> quite tall <</if>>with <<if $kgender is "man">> an angular, defined jawline and chin. <<else>> with sharp, elegant features that remind you of a painting. <</if>>$kupperhisher skin is papery white, almost gray, and $khisher long, undercut hair falls around $khisher shoulders like a slowly spreading puddle of black ink. <<if $kgender is "man" $kupperheshe wears a steel, gray coat over a bare chest, the fabric stitched lovingly with silvery embroidery and trimmed around the collar with a mantle of sleek, black feathers. <<else>> She wears a steel, gray coat over a plain white shirt with a perilously low neckline, the heavy fabric stitched lovingly with silvery embroidery and trimmed around the collar with a mantle of sleek, black feathers. <</if>> The $kgender steps out from behind the nearest tree and then leans casually against the trunk, $khisher hands folded in front of $khimher. You can’t see $khisher face because of the mask, but $khisher blue eyes seem to almost //glow// in the dark. It is both eerie and beautiful. “I…” A hundred questions try to tumble out all at the same time. How did $kheshe manage to sneak up on you? The courtyard is very large, but there aren't a lot of choice hiding spots. "I'm sorry if I'm not meant to be here." [[Next|5dc4]]

The $kgender in front of you doesn’t seem the least bit offended or angry. In fact, $kheshe seems quite at ease. “I wasn’t referring to that,” $kheshe says. $kupperheshe points at the hand in which you hold the crystal. “The tree gave you that. You ought to thank it.” You glance down at the stone in your hand and then up at the tree beside you. “Oh,” you murmur. It sounds absurd, but so is everything else about this place. In the end, you suppose there’s no harm in it. “Um, thank you. For this. It’s beautiful.” The branches creak and sway in response, as if caught in a breeze. A breeze that you yourself do not feel. You're not sure how you should feel about receiving an answer. [[Next|5dc5]]

“Why did you not go the other way?” You turn quickly back around to look at your new companion again. $kupperheshe is making a wide circle around you, dragging $khisher gloved hands over the back of one of the horses, which huffs at the disturbance. You begin moving too, if only to keep $khimher in your line of sight. “What do you mean?” you ask. The $kgender glances back at you, a smirk pulling slightly at the corner of $khisher mouth. “It isn’t a difficult question, Sparrow,” $kheshe says. $kupperhisher tone borders on patronizing. “Why choose to go this way and not through the gap?” The gap? It takes you a second to remember the crumbled wall in the first little courtyard you had encountered. [[You laugh. "Are you disappointed I didn't cheat?"|5dcsnark][$snark +=1]] ♤ [["I don't know," you say. "I guess I didn't want to get totally lost."|5dckind][$kind +=1]] ♢ "[[I wanted to.|5dcgrump][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

“Isn’t that the point of a labyrinth?” $kheshe counters. $kupperhisher tone is gently teasing, though $khisher curiosity seems genuine. “I guess so,” you concede. “But it wouldn’t be much of a labyrinth if you just jumped all the walls either.” Something about your answer seems to please your companion and there’s just enough light in the clearing for you to see the way $khisher lips tilt into a smirk. “Touché, Sparrow.” [[Next|5dc6]]

“There is no such thing as cheating, little bird,” $kheshe replies. “Here among the snakes and wolves, you must take every opportunity and use every advantage. The only difference between foolishness and courage is the result.” [[Next|5dc6]]

Your new companion is being polite enough, but you don’t see why you should have to explain yourself. And to your surprise, your companion seems to agree. $kupperheshe grins. “Very good, Sparrow.” [[Next|5dc6]]

You realize that your companion has taken advantage of your distraction to come a little closer, so you make it a point to reestablish some distance by circling around one of the larger trees. Something feels off. You can’t put a name to the feeling, but it grows more distinct with every passing moment. You glance over at your companion. $kupperheshe doesn’t seem to be a threat to you and surely if $kheshe meant to hurt you, $kheshe would have already done so. Still, you can’t shake the feeling, especially not now as you start circling each other. This is beginning to feel less like a friendly conversation and more like a game. A game with rules and stakes you don’t understand. “What’s your name?” you ask. The $kgender clicks $khisher tongue at you as $kheshe mirrors your movements. Whenever $kheshe comes a step closer, you move away, and vice versa. “Ah-ah,” $kheshe chides. “No names.” You frown. “Why?” [[Next|5dc7]]

“Because names are power,” your companion says. “To give someone your name is to give them a part of yourself. Still, if you must call me something, you may call me the Kestrel.” You listen with half an ear as you put another tree between the two of you. But, as you come around the other side you find that the Kestrel has disappeared. You blink in surprise and glance about the clearing. There’s no sign of $khimher anywhere. Then your heart jumps into your throat when the Kestrel appears from around the other side of the tree and cages you in against the trunk. $kupperheshe leans close, a hand planted against the bark on either side of your shoulders. [[Next|5dc8]]

[[Your heart races.|5dcplay][$kplay +=1]] ♥ [["It's hard to breathe with " + $khimher + " so near."|5dcshy][$kshy +=1]] ♡ [[You lean back coolly against the tree trunk behind you.|5dcnosell][$knosell +=1]] ▲

You know better than to play with fire, but the Kestrel’s nearness sends an unexpected thrill through you. You know better, but you can’t help it. You could tell, even with the mask in the way, that $kheshe was attractive, but at this proximity you can truly appreciate the sharp cut of $khisher proofile and the intense electric blue of $khisher eyes set against startling black scleras. $kupperheshe is beautiful in the same way that a wolf or a lion might be. “I’ve enjoyed our game, Sparrow,” the Kestrel says, $khisher voice dropping to a husky whisper. “So have I,” you reply, your tone matching $khishers. [[Next|5dc9]]

$kupperhisher presence is heavy and you know that should worry you, but instead your skin prickles with heat and your heart skips. You could tell, even with the mask in the way, that $kheshe was attractive, but at this proximity you can truly appreciate the sharp cut of $khisher jaw and the intense electric blue of $khisher eyes set against startling black scleras. $kupperheshe is beautiful in the same way that a wolf or a lion might be. The Kestrel seems to sense your unease and chuckles. “I can hear your heart racing,” $kheshe says. “But you needn’t be afraid of me, Sparrow.” You glance away, feeling your face burn. “That’s not why my heart is racing.” [[Next|5dc9]]

You know—or at least suspect—that the Kestrel is trying to affect you and you’re determined not to give $khimher the pleasure. You could tell, even with the mask in the way, that $kheshe was probably attractive, but at this proximity you can clearly see the sharp cut of $khisher jaw and the intense, electric blue of $khisher eyes set against startling black scleras. $kupperheshe is beautiful in the same way that a wolf or a lion might be. Beautiful and feral. Beautiful and //dangerous//. “Do I frighten you, Sparrow?” the Kestrel asks you with a sharp grin. “No,” you say plainly. The $kgenderpos grin only widens. “Good.” [[Next|5dc9]]

The Kestrel takes a long step backward, away from you, and offers a mocking little half-bow as if to apologize for invading your personal space. <<if ($kshy gte "1") or ($kplay gte "1")>> Despite the thrill you feel at $khisher nearness, you’re still not totally sure how to read $khimher. Afterall, attraction doesn’t equal trust and $khisher beauty can’t lull you into a false sense of security. <<else>> However beautiful your companion might be it won’t lull you into a false sense of security. You won’t let it.<</if>> Carter raised you better than that. You freeze. //Carter//. The name breaks something. //Dreaming. You’re dreaming.// [[Next|5dc10]]

You’re not sure how your mind pulls itself from the fog. The only thing you can imagine is that Carter’s such an indelible part of your life that not even an illusion can make you forget him. And it’s like a veil lifts and everything floods back to you. You’re more than a little familiar with the concept of lucid dreams. When you were younger, they were a near nightly occurrence and you always struggled to wake yourself up. As you’ve gotten older, they’ve become less frequent overall and those few you do experience you can usually end with relatively little effort. At present, you can //feel// the dream—the same as you did when $rname was toying with you. But on reflection, it seems more like $rname had simply participated in a dream that already existed. But this is different. This isn’t a creation of //your// mind. You have no power here. You’re trapped. [[Next|5dc11]]

You jerk to attention at the sound of loud, slow clapping and turn around sharply to look at the Kestrel, who is watching you with a glint in $khisher eyes. “I admit, I’m a little disappointed,” the $kgender said, $khisher hands falling back to $khisher sides as a slow, pleased smile unfurls across $khisher expression. “While it has been a pleasure to watch your powers at work, but I hoped that we would have a little while longer to linger together.” You’re not sure if $kheshe is genuinely impressed with you or if you’re being mocked. And you don’t really care. “Let me go,” you say. “Come now, Sparrow,” the Kestrel cajoles you even though $khisher eyes bright with what almost looks like excitement. Like $kheshe is anticipating something. “Nothing’s changed. Why must we end this party so soon?” “Said as if I chose to be here in the first place,” you reply tartly. “This game is over. I don’t know what you want and I don’t care. Let me go.” The $kgender pouts and seems to consider this for a long moment. “I’m afraid I can’t,” $kheshe says and you can see just the shadow of another infuriating smile pulling at the corner of $khisher mouth. “We still have business to settle, you and I. And I see no reason to hurry our time together.” [[Next|5dc12]]

[[Try not to burn any bridges |5intuitdip][$kdip +=1]] 🏵 [[Torch it.|5intuitagg][$khos +=1]] ✿

You frown to yourself and move cautiously forward until finally you arrive at a pair of wide, double doors. You hesitate. There is no one in the hall with you and no one to discourage you from exploring, which doesn’t mean that no one will //mind//. Still, you linger for only a few moments longer before giving in to your curiosity and reaching for the door handle. You are not entirely sure what to expect and you try to brace yourself for whatever may come, but nothing could have prepared you for what you see as you step out onto a broad landing. The “room” appears to be some sort of tower-like structure and a staircase creates a spiraling path that follows the walls. Every hundred feet or so there is a glass lantern hanging on the wall and the glowing orbs contained within cast a silvery-blue light over the stairwell. When you peek over the railing, you see that the stairs continue downward until you can no longer make them out amidst the dark. What shocks you most, however, is the sheer number of books. The spiral stairs are lined with shelves filled with countless volumes. There are easily thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of them, filling every open nook and cranny. [[Next|5libpaths]]

To your left there are the stairs going upward and to your right there is the staircase going down. <<link [[Go left (up the stairs).]]>> [\<<set $kmet to "up">>]<</link>> <<link [[Go right (down the stairs).]]>> [\<<set $kmet to "down">>]<</link>>

<<if $ddress is "gown">> You bunch some of your skirt in one hand to hold it up as you take the first step. <<else>> You tentatively take the first step up, the carpeted stairs feeling strangely plush under your boots. <</if>> You try to keep an eye on where you're going but also admire the books packed tightly in their shelves on your left. They vary wildly, from small journals to large, leather-bound tomes with elaborately embossed covers and spines. You’re so enthralled by your surroundings, that it takes you a second to realize you don’t actually recognize the language or the alphabet you’re seeing. But still, somehow, you know the meaning. It isn’t long before you reach another landing. This one opens into a largish room with hanging lanterns that cast just enough light to see by and towering shelves that divide the space into sections. You wander down one of the aisles between the shelves, examining the books as you pass and letting your fingers graze along the spines. There’s a heavy, unshakable silence underlined by an almost palpable tension you can feel in the air. It’s like you’re being watched. [[Next|5lup1]]

You hesitate for a moment longer on the landing. There isn’t really a difference between going up or going down and you can feel your curiosity getting the better of you when you look to your right. After all, you might not be able to see very far down when looking over the railing, but you //can// see. Which means that the darkness shouldn’t be a problem. And if all else fails, you can always just turn around. You hesitate for just a second before taking your first cautious step down. <<if $ddress is "gown">> Fortunately, you don’t have to worry about tripping over your own hem as it trails behind you on the staircase. <<else>> Fortunately, you don’t have to worry about tripping over your robe as the hem trails behind you on the staircase. <</if>> You let your hand skim across the banister as you walk, your eyes fixed on the books all around you. There must be thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of them, and some are so old the lettering is worn off the spines. You’ve never been afraid of the dark, but the looming shadows have you a little unnerved. In a way, it feels like you’re trespassing. Like you’re committing sacrilege. But still, you keep moving forward. Eventually, you reach a small landing and something from below catches your eye. There’s a light. It’s brighter than the lanterns and it spills into the tower from a doorway of some kind. [[Next|5ld1]]

You usually do your best not to give into every little feeling that bothers you, mostly because that seems like a good way to drive yourself crazy. So you try to push it aside. But it persists. It nags you for some time until you round the corner of one of the aisles and spot the tail end of someone’s shadow disappearing up the staircase. You immediately bolt after it, <<if $ddress is "gown">> holding your skirt high enough so it won’t trip you. <<else>> taking care not to trip yourself with your cloak as you run. <</if>> Looking up the stairwell, you manage to catch another glimpse of the shadow on the stairs just above you disappearing around the next twist. You quicken your pace. [[Next|5lup2]]

No matter how fast you go, the shadow always seems to stay just ahead of you. You can’t help but feel like something is playing with you. This is especially true when you reach what seems like the very top of the tower, which opens to the velvety black of the night outside. You hesitate for just a moment before tentatively taking the last few steps up. And at first, you’re too awestruck to even react. It’s an observation deck with an unimpeded view of the night’s sky, lit by the full moon and silver bands of stars. The moon is larger than you’ve ever seen it, casting enough light to see by, and the stars are so bright and densely clustered that they look impossibly close. Every now and then you see shooting stars bright as fireballs darting through the sky. In the dark it’s hard to tell just how high up you are, but you can hear the crashing of ocean waves and when you draw closer to the rail that guards the edge of the tower, you can see where the moon reflects off the water. You’re in awe. It’s almost spiritual. Sacred. Like you’re looking at the face of an ancient god. “You should be careful where you tread, Sparrow.” [[Next|kgenderlup]]

You turn around sharply and find yourself facing: <<link [[a man.|5lup3]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "man">> <<set $kheshe to "he">> <<set $khimher to "him">> <<set $khishers to "his">> <<set $khisher to "his">> <<set $kupperhishers to "His">> <<set $kupperheshe to "He">> <<set $kupperhisher to "His">> <<set $khandpretty to "handsome">> <<set $kgenderpos to "man's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "He's">> <<set $khesheis to "he's">> <<set $kself to "himself">> <<set $kpretty to "handsome">> ] <</link>> <<link [[a woman.|5lup3]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "woman">> <<set $kheshe to "she">> <<set $khimher to "her">> <<set $khishers to "hers">> <<set $khisher to "her">> <<set $kupperhishers to "Her">> <<set $kupperheshe to "She">> <<set $kupperhisher to "Her">> <<set $khandpretty to "pretty">> <<set $kgenderpos to "woman's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "She's">> <<set $khesheis to "she's">> <<set $kself to "herself">> <<set $kpretty to "beautiful">> ] <</link>>

$kupperheshe is <<if $height is "short" or $height is "average">> much taller than you <<else>> quite tall <</if>>with <<if $kgender is "man">> an angular, defined jawline and chin. <<else>> with sharp, elegant features that remind you of a painting. <</if>> $kupperhisher skin is papery white, almost gray, and $khisher long, undercut hair falls around $khisher shoulders like a slowly spreading puddle of black ink. $kupperheshe wears a gray, silk coat<<if $kgender is "man">> open over a bare chest <<else>> over a plain shirt that has a perilously low neckline <</if>>that is stitched lovingly with silvery embroidery and trimmed around the collar with a mantle of sleek, black feathers. $kupperhisher mask is also birdlike, with a more pronounced beak than yours and colors to match $khisher costume. $kupperhisher presence startles you, but fight or flight abandons you to their useless cousin “freeze” and you find yourself mute and rooted to the spot. This seems to amuse your guest. In the moonlight, much of what you can see of $khisher face is cast in heavy shadows, but you can see how $kheshe smirks at you well enough. The $kgender begins to circle you with slow and calculated steps. You don’t feel threatened, though you’re sure you should. “What do you mean?” you ask. “Only that there are others who would not take so kindly to your wandering,” your companion replies. $kupperhisher grin widens fractionally. “But you have nothing to fear from me.” [[Next|5lup4]]

You’re not sure you believe that, especially when $kheshe tips $khisher head just right and you catch a glimpse of teeth that seem a little too sharp. “Am I not meant to be here?” you ask. The $kgender simply shakes $khisher head. “Oh, I would never dare discourage you, Sparrow.” [[“Sparrow?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. “That’s cute. I hate it.”|lupsnark][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“Sparrow?” you repeat. “Why do you call me that?”|lupkind][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[“That isn’t my name,” you say flatly.|lupgrump][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

Your companion’s grin sharpens, turning into something toothy and dangerous. “Ah, little bird, there is a good reason for it. The only rule you must abide by is to never give your name. To give your name is to give another power over you. And even I would struggle to resist such an enticing prospect.” [[Next|lupflirt]]

“Because, sweet one, to give your name is to give away a piece of yourself,” $kheshe replies. “The snakes and the wolves that lurk here would quickly make a meal of you and I would hardly blame them for giving in.” [[Next|lupflirt]]

“It isn’t,” your companion agrees with a smirk playing on $khisher lips. “But you must never give your name to another. This is the only rule you must abide here, rebellious one.” You frown. “Why?” “Because to give your name is to give away a part of yourself,” $kheshe replies with lascivious grin, “and I would much prefer to have you whole.” [[Next|lupflirt]]

[[Whatever might come out of your mouth next is going to be a mistake.|lupplay][$kplay +=1]] ♥ [[Your face feels hot.|lupshy][$kshy +=1]] ♡ [[If nothing else, you have to give your companion points for honesty.|lupnosell][$knosell +=1]] ▲

You know that. But there’s something magnetic about your companion and you can’t resist. “And if you give me your name?” you ask. “Would that work the same way?” The $kgenderpos eyes darken and $kheshe runs $khisher tongue along $khisher lower lip. “Oh, don’t tease me with such ideas, Sparrow,” $kheshe says, $khisher tone husky and somehow still full of warning. “Besides, you would hardly need my name to compel me if that was your wish.” You smile, maybe a little in spite of yourself. “Then, if not your name, what should I call you?” “You may call me whatever you wish,” the $kgender replies. “But here I am known as the Kestrel.” [[Next|5lup5]]

If nothing else, your companion is honest. Shockingly so. And it makes your stomach turn a somersault, but it has nothing to do with fear or revulsion. Quite the opposite, really. “So, what do I call you?” you manage to ask around the lump in your throat. Even with the mask in the way, you can tell $kheshe is beautiful. There’s even something about the way $kheshe moves that’s enticing. $kupperheshe prowls about with all of the confidence of a big cat. “Here I am the Kestrel,” your companion says. There’s something deceptively soft about $khisher tone. “Are you enjoying the view?” You know that $kheshe is speaking of the sky, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from $khishers. “Yes,” you say. It’s almost a whisper. The $kgender grins wide in approval. “Good.” [[Next|5lup5]]

Maybe it’s not //tactful// honesty, but it’s honesty. “You still haven’t told me what I should call you,” you say. You’re careful to keep your tone neutral. Despite the ease you feel in $khisher presence, you can’t help but be wary. Shark-infested waters can also look perfectly safe. The $kgender clicks $khisher tongue in what sounds like disappointment when you refuse to acknowledge $khisher blatant flirting. But it doesn’t last. “The Kestrel,” $kheshe says at length. “I am known as the Kestrel.” [[Next|5lup5]]

For a few moments, neither of you say anything as you quietly measure each other. You still aren’t really afraid of the $kgender in front of you, but you can’t shake the sense that you //should// be. It’s something more than $khisher heated gaze following your every movement and the wolfish way $kheshe smiles. It’s more than the way $kheshe circles you like a predator. You rub your forehead. Your head’s been foggy from the start and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re forgetting something. Something important. But each time you reach for the thought, it evades you. “I have a question for you, Sparrow,” the Kestrel finally speaks, breaking the silence and your concentration. You struggle to pull the thought back to you. “What question?” you ask, distractedly. $kupperheshe looks pleased by something. “What enticed you to come this way?” Trying to answer $khimher and think is proving difficult—far more difficult than it should be. It shouldn’t be this hard to just //think//. “Does it matter?” you ask. “Humor me,” $kheshe says. [[Next|5lup6]]

You shake your head. “I don't know." Ugh, this is going to drive you crazy. You know that you’re forgetting something important. It’s right there on the tip of your tongue. You try to trace your thoughts backward, from the moment you entered the tower back to when you were standing in the hallway. You remember everything with crystal clarity—except where you began. Where you //actually// began. “Where am I?” The Kestrel tips $khisher head curiously. A grin pulls at the corner of $khisher mouth. “What do you mean, Sparrow? You’re here. With me. Isn’t that enough?” $kupperheshe is playing with you. That much is now abundantly clear—$kheshe doesn’t even seem to be trying to hide it any more. You close your eyes to concentrate when you feel the fog creeping in again. It’s not as hard to fight when you’re aware of it happening, but still it feels like you’re wading through mud—like you’re trying to hold onto a dream after waking. [[Next|5lup7]]

//Dream//. You open your eyes quickly and find yourself staring directly at the Kestrel. $kupperhisher eyes are a stunning, electric blue that almost seems to glow in the dark. The color itself seems impossible even well before you notice that the whites of $khisher eyes are //black//. //Not human//. //Not real//. “I’m dreaming,” you whisper. Saying it aloud seems to shake something loose and the fog clears. Everything clears. You see the world around you more sharply—//feel// it more keenly. Something is pressing in on you, stifling you. The Kestrel clicks $khisher tongue in disappointment and you round on $khimher. “Spoilsport,” $kheshe chastises you. “Were we not having fun?” [[Fuck this. Aggressively.|5lagro]] ✿ [[Fuck this. But diplomatically.|5ldip]] 🏵

You ignore $khimher and lash out at the presence you can feel piggybacking yours, but it accomplishes nothing. $rnamepos presence was more of a hand holding yours—this is more like a parasite digging in its claws and getting comfortable. You curl your lip in annoyance, but you know it won’t help you. You need to be calm about this. Methodical. You need to think—not just react. You push against the presence again, this time trying to figure out how it’s connected to you, and you’re surprised to find that it feels more like an //absence// of something. Like a ghostly hand touching yours, it’s something you can feel but not “see”. What did $rname say? //If there’s anything on this planet capable of hiding from your extra senses, it would certainly be fae.// You narrow your eyes as you focus again on the Kestrel. You wish $rname would have told you more about the fae instead of just drip-feeding you information. You know that $rheshe doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but having something concrete to work with would be helpful. Still, there are some things you can assume. [[Next|5agro1]]

You won’t even dignify the Kestrel’s words with a response. “Let me go.” “Little bird, if I wished to hurt you I would have already done so,” $kheshe replies with a wolfish smile. “Can we not linger here a little longer?” “Absolutely not,” you snap back with venom. You push your senses outward and immediately find yourself butting up against another presence. It’s piggybacking yours and while $rnamepos presence was more of a hand holding yours—this is a parasite digging in its claws and getting comfortable. You feel almost smothered by it. You need to be calm about this. You need to think—not just react. You push against the presence again, this time trying to figure out how it’s connected to you, and you’re surprised to find that it feels more like an //absence// of something. Like a ghostly hand touching yours. It’s the opposite of $rnamepos bright burning energy or $znamepos steady, unmovable presence. What did $rname say? //If there’s anything on this planet capable of hiding from your extra senses, it would certainly be fae.// You narrow your eyes as you focus again on the Kestrel. You wish the others—including Carter—would have told you more about the fae instead of just drip-feeding you information. You know that they probably didn’t want to overwhelm you, but having something concrete to work with would be helpful. [[Next|5dip1]]

This doesn’t seem to be the same thing $rname had done when you’d first met. This is much more elaborate. So perhaps $rname had just used the dream you were having. //This// dream feels more like a construct—like something the Kestrel has created deliberately. And for as vivid as your dreams can get, they’ve never been quite like this. You’re more than a little familiar with the concept of lucid dreams. When you were younger, they were a near nightly occurrence and you would struggle to wake yourself up. As you’ve gotten older, they’ve become less frequent overall and those few you do experience you can usually end with relatively little effort. At present, you can //feel// the dream, but it’s different. This isn’t a creation of //your// mind. You have no power here. You’re trapped. [[Next|5agro2]]

You try to steady yourself. You need to think. Carter has always praised your ability to step back and think things through methodically. You might not be able to detect a fae’s presence or read them as you can humans, but with the Kestrel’s psyche latched onto yours you realize that you can sense the hole $kheshe creates in your perception. The Kestrel is stifling you as the shades did, except $kheshe seems powerful enough to not just block your abilities but alter your mental landscape entirely. No matter how you push back against the presence you can feel overlapping yours, there’s no use. You think back to $rname again. $rupperheshe had accused you of not being precise enough and that you could hurt someone just by throwing your weight around. It gives you an idea. If a broad, blunt attack isn’t enough to pierce the veil of this illusion, then perhaps narrowing your focus would help. Like the difference between punching someone or stabbing them. “There isn’t any need for us to be enemies, Sparrow,” the Kestrel says. $kupperheshe is grinning and $khisher eyes are bright and eager. Mocking you. “In fact, I come bearing gifts.” You narrow your eyes and focus on $khimher again. “Keep them.” [[Next|5agro3]]

$kupperheshe tuts at you, though $khisher eyes seem to light up at the prospect of a challenge. “Very well,” $kheshe says. “If you have no interest in the girl’s well-being then I shall keep it to myself.” The girl. You know instantly that $kheshe is talking about Casey. “What do you know? Why are the fae involved?” “Are they?” the Kestrel asks, raising an eyebrow. You know you’ve given $khimher exactly what $kheshe was looking for—your attention. It’s difficult to manipulate your powers and focus on a conversation at the same time, but you try. You pull your energy together, gathering the threads of it so it moves like a river and not a tidal wave. It’s not easy, especially not without $rnamepos example to follow, but each time you try it becomes a little more intuitive. “The shades, the changeling, and now you,” you reply. “That’s not a coincidence.” The Kestrel hums thoughtfully in reply and traces $khisher lower lip with $khisher thumb. “That is an awful lot of fuss over one mortal child, isn’t it?” [[Next|5agro4]]

“Do not play with me," you warm $khimher, even as you continue trying to pool your power. Each time you pull it inward, you gather a little more of it. And unlike $rname, the Kestrel can’t seem to sense what you’re doing. “What does any of this have to do with Casey?” That or $kheshe is playing the long game. You suppose you’ll see. The Kestrel clicks $khisher tongue at you. “Your kind is so presumptuous. Your lives are naught but candles flickering in the wind and still you think we trouble ourselves over you.” “Can’t imagine where I’d get that idea,” you reply flatly. “If this isn’t about Casey, then why was she taken?” The $kgender sighs. “It’s not fun to simply hand you the answers,” $kheshe says. Then $khisher expression twists into a sly grin. “But let us say I will humor you.” “Humor me how?” “I will answer one question for you,” the Kestrel replies. “In return, you must linger here a little longer with me.” [[Next|5agro5]]

You consider the proposition for a moment. Then nod. Challenge accepted. You wish you and $rname had gotten to those lessons $rheshe had mentioned. But for now, what little you do know will have to be enough. You think back to your confrontation with the shades and your attempt at astral projection. You remember the scuffle and the magic that $rname had detected at the edge of the Powells’ property. If the Kestrel can be believed—and you have your doubts—then Casey isn’t important enough to be the //cause// of the fight. If that’s true, it seems like she may have been an incidental side character that got caught in the middle. $rname had said there was both Seelie and Unseelie magic at the spot where Casey had disappeared. <<if "wounded" is "R">> $rupperheshe had also said that changelings weren’t capable of magic outside their transformations. But //shades// were. <<else>> And $zname had said that changelings weren’t capable of magic outside their transformations. But //shades// were. <</if>> You immediately think of the exile. You trust the shades even less than you do the Kestrel, but they seemed certain that the exile was involved somehow. “Tell me about the Seelie,” you say, suddenly. [[Next|5agro6]]

The Kestrel grins, looking very pleased. “I’m afraid the Seelie are quite tedious—to say the least. All fae resist change, but none hate and fear the new quite as much as our cousins,” $kheshe replies. “They hunt us. We hunt them. It is a cycle that will forever repeat itself.” //Hunt//. It’s a peculiar word to apply to the situation, but it makes sense in a way. The colliding magics that $rname had detected on the property might not have been an accidental meeting, but the result of a calculated ambush. //The exile seeks to be something new.// <b> //New.// </b> If the shades were being honest and the exile really had something to do with Casey’s disappearance, then whatever happened, happened on the edge of the Powells’ property. So finding the exile has to start there. You glance over at the Kestrel. $kupperhisher presence creates a distinct hole in your perception—something you wouldn’t even be aware of if you weren’t actively seeking it out. You wonder if it will be the same in real life. And even if it isn’t the same, you’re sure that either $rname or $zname will know how to lure out a fae. [[Next|5agro7]]

“I admit, I’m a bit disappointed you would waste your question on something so boring as our cousins,” the Kestrel says. You can’t help but smile a little. “But that wasn’t a question.” You only give the Kestrel enough time to register your meaning. And then lash out again. Except this time you narrow your focus and instead of bluntly striking like a mace, you pierce the Kestrel’s hold on you like you’re driving in a dagger. It’s probably painful—if you had to guess based on the way the Kestrel is immediately driven to $khisher knees by it. But more importantly it //works// and the dream instantly begins to break. For just a split second your eyes catch the Kestrel’s. $kupperhisher expression is wonderstruck. //Adoring//. Then you fall. [[End Chapter 5]]

“I’m curious, Sparrow. Why do you even care about the girl?” You turn your attention back onto the Kestrel. $kupperheshe has begun circling you again and you move immediately to counter $khimher to keep $khimher in your sights. “What do you mean?” The $kgender shrugs. “Only that there must be a hundred thousand others just like her,” $kheshe replies. $kupperhisher expression is flat and unreadable even as $kheshe watches you with keen eyes. “You mortals are all the same. You spin endlessly upon the same wheel, repeating the mistakes of those who came before you and setting the course for those who will come afterward until you are crushed beneath the tread.” Well, at least it’s a poetic brand of cynicism. “If that’s how you see us, then why bother?” you ask. “Why were the fae ever involved with Casey to start with?” The Kestrel pauses in $khisher pacing and seems to consider some far-off point on the horizon. Then $kheshe catches your eye. All of the humor is gone from $khisher expression and the full weight of $khisher stare settles on you uncomfortably. “Because sometimes the wheel breaks,” $kheshe says. “And there is nothing that frightens the fae quite like the prospect of the new.” [[Next|5dip2]]

“Why?” $kupperheshe almost seems surprised by your question and quits pacing to meet your eyes. “Does it matter?” $kheshe asks. There’s something underlining $khisher words that you can’t quite pinpoint. But all traces of humor are gone from $khisher expression. For the first time, $kheshe seems to be really listening to you, which is fortunate because you don’t want to do anything drastic unless you have to. “It matters to me. I want to understand what’s happening,” you reply. The Kestrel stares at you for a few moments longer, as if trying to discern whether or not you’re being sincere. You must pass the assessment because eventually, $kheshe begins: “The fae are the children abandoned by time. Our cousins take comfort in that which they can control and predict and my brethren feed on the chaos of the undecided. They fear change because it is the end. It is the end of what is known and the end of what is unknown.” $kupperheshe sounds almost breathless and you’re not entirely sure how you should react. Still, you do your best to hold $khisher stare. “So the fae are afraid of Casey?” you ask. [[Next|5dip3]]

“Of the girl herself? No,” the Kestrel says, shaking $khisher head. “If that were true, she would be dead and you would not remember her.” Well. You don’t like what that implies at all. “Return to where you began,” $kheshe adds at length. “You’ll find the exile there. And your answers.” You feel the heavy presence weighing on your psyche retreat and instantly the dream begins to dissolve. “Will I see you again?” you ask. <<if $knosell gte 1>> You’re not sure if you necessarily //want// to, but you’d like to be prepared for the possibility. <<else>> You try to sound cautious rather than eager, but it’s hard to ignore how the idea entices you. Even if it is spectacularly stupid. <</if>> The corner of the Kestrel’s lips tip upward in a smile. “Oh, Sparrow, you could not keep me away.” It sounds disconcertingly like a promise. And you fall. [[End Chapter 5]]

As you draw closer to the bottom of the stairwell, you start to hear laughter and conversation underscored by music. It almost sounds like a party, but if that was really the case shouldn’t you have been able to hear it sooner? Even your footsteps echo in this place. You step lightly off the last stair and cautiously go forward until you can peek into the doorway. The room beyond is a large hall of some sort with towering, vaulted ceilings and flagstone floors. Overhead, the buttresses are intricately carved and the spaces between them are decorated with mosaics of colored stones and mirrored tiles. The walls are covered in similarly elaborate mosaics. It’s beautiful, but it seems like all of this grandeur is dedicated to an empty room, save for a dozen free-standing mirrors that line each side of the hall. They’re tall and share identical golden frames and claw foot pedestals. But most surprising is the fact that the mirrors seem to be the source of the light and sounds. Sounds, you realize quickly, that include your own voice. You frown as you cautiously approach the mirror nearest to you. You see yourself, but it isn’t you as you are right there. True, your reflection is wearing the same costume and mask, but you’re dancing with someone you don’t recognize. [[Next|kgenderdown]]

It is: <<link [[a man.|5ld2]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "man">> <<set $kheshe to "he">> <<set $khimher to "him">> <<set $khishers to "his">> <<set $khisher to "his">> <<set $kupperhishers to "His">> <<set $kupperheshe to "He">> <<set $kupperhisher to "His">> <<set $khandpretty to "handsome">> <<set $kgenderpos to "man's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "He's">> <<set $khesheis to "he's">> <<set $kself to "himself">> <<set $kpretty to "handsome">> ] <</link>> <<link [[a woman.|5ld2]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "woman">> <<set $kheshe to "she">> <<set $khimher to "her">> <<set $khishers to "hers">> <<set $khisher to "her">> <<set $kupperhishers to "Her">> <<set $kupperheshe to "She">> <<set $kupperhisher to "Her">> <<set $khandpretty to "pretty">> <<set $kgenderpos to "woman's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "She's">> <<set $khesheis to "she's">> <<set $kself to "herself">> <<set $kpretty to "beautiful">> ] <</link>>

You move onward to look at the next mirror and you’re met with another reflection of yourself walking down a narrow corridor with tall hedges on each side of you. When your reflection shifts slightly to one side, you catch a glimpse of the same $kgender following quietly behind at a distance. You take a quick step back from the mirror, unnerved. “We look well together.” Your heart slams into your ribs and you turn sharply to face a $kgender. The same $kgender from the mirror. $kupperheshe is <<if $height is "short" or $height is "average">> much taller than you <<else>> quite tall <</if>>with <<if $kgender is "man">> an angular, defined jawline and chin. <<else>> with sharp, elegant features that remind you of a painting. <</if>> $kupperhisher skin is papery white, almost gray, and $khisher long, undercut hair falls around $khisher shoulders like a slowly spreading puddle of black ink. $kupperheshe wears a gray, silk coat<<if $kgender is "man">> open over a bare chest <<else>> over a plain shirt that has a perilously low neckline <</if>>that is stitched lovingly with silvery embroidery and trimmed around the collar with a mantle of sleek, black feathers. $kupperhisher mask is also birdlike, with a more pronounced beak than yours and colors to match $khisher costume. $kupperheshe is standing in front of the mirror you just examined a moment ago, watching the two of you dance. You can’t see much of $khisher face because of the mask $kheshe wears, but you can just make out the pleased tilt of $khisher lips as $kheshe gazes into the mirror, unblinking. [[Next|5ld3]]

It is a surreal experience to say the least and a thousand thoughts, feelings, and questions collide together in a messy pileup in your head. Which is why it’s strange that you’re not scared, even though you think you probably should be. There’s even something strangely comforting about this stranger’s presence and you know intellectually that’s not right. “Who—what are these mirrors?” you ask, trying to organize your thoughts. “Hm?” The $kgender turns $khisher head to look at you finally. “Oh, they are possibilities, Sparrow. Nothing more.” Your breath catches in your chest when you see $khisher eyes. In the light, even with the mask in the way, you can see $khisher eyes clearly—the bright electric blue set against stark, startling black. Your companion clicks $khisher tongue in disappointment. “What happened to <<if $snark gt 15>> your clever tongue?” <<elseif $grumpy gt 15>> your cuttting tongue?” <<elseif $kind gt 15>> your sweet words?” <<else>> your lovely voice?” <</if>> $kupperheshe smirks a little, revealing teeth that are too sharp to be a human’s. “Did I frighten you, Sparrow?” [[Next|downdia]]

[[You laugh a little, hoping it doesn’t sound as nervous as you think it does.|5ld4][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[You quickly shake your head. It seems like a mistake to admit to being afraid.|5kinddown][$kind +=1]] ♢ "[[No.|5grumpdown][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

“I thought I was alone,” you say finally. “You just surprised me.” And you’re still not totally sure how $kheshe had managed to sneak up on you. The $kgender chuckles. “Was it a welcomed surprise?” You probably wouldn’t go //that// far, but you smile all the same. “It is eerie to be alone here,” you say. Which isn’t a lie. There’s something //off// about your setting, but you don’t know what. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name. Who are you?” [[Next|5ld5]]

You’re glad your voice sounds steadier than you feel. There’s something //off//. You know that with certainty, but you can’t point to it. The $kgender grins. Despite the abrasiveness of your tone, $kheshe seems pleased. As if $kheshe knows something you don’t. It’s enough to put you on edge. “Who are you?” you ask. [[Next|5ld5]]

“Why do I get the feeling that you’d enjoy it if I said ‘yes’?” you ask wryly, trying to keep your tone light. The $kgenderpos grin sharpens and $kheshe tilts $khisher head. “So cruel,” $kheshe scolds you. But $khisher tone gives $khimher away. This is a //game// to them. That puts you a little on edge. Something isn’t right. You don’t know what it is, but you’re missing something important. “I’m nicer to people when I know who they are,” you reply with a meaningful look. [[Next|5ld5]]

//What are you?// Not human. You’re certain of that much. You’re certain… The $kgender laughs. “Humans are so quick to ask for another’s name,” $kheshe says. “Some might mistake that for //eagerness//.” “Eagerness?” you ask. “To know another’s name is to have power over them,” the $kgender replies. $kupperhisher tone is patiently indulgent, though there’s a warning in there too. “Therefore to //ask// can seem quite brazen.” [[You’re intrigued. It’s a bad idea, but you can’t ignore the pull you feel.|5playdown][$kplay +=1]] ♥ [[Your face gets hot.|5shydown][$kshy +=1]] ♡ [[Well, if nothing else your companion is honest.|5noselldown][$knosell +=1]] ▲

From what little you can see of your companion’s face—like the sharp cut of $khisher jaw and the shocking blue of $khisher eyes that seem to glow in the half-light—you know $kheshe is attractive. Moreover, there’s something about $khisher voice and the way $kheshe moves. There’s a feral kind of grace to it all that is calculated but not rehearsed. This is probably the definition of playing with fire, but $kheshe started it. “So? Is that a no?” you wonder. The $kgender grins wide enough to show $khisher teeth again and your heart jumps. “You may call me the Kestrel, little bird.” You can’t help but smile back. [[Next|5ld6]]

$kupperhisher tone is heavy with salacious intent, so it’s difficult to miss $khisher meaning. And you know that Encouraging this is a bad idea, if not because you’re alone in an unfamiliar environment, then because your companion is a total stranger with unknown motives. Well… //Relatively// unknown motives. $kupperheshe seems to be perfectly transparent in this one regard. “I don’t think you’re in the position to call anyone else //brazen//,” you say, light-heartedly. And you tell yourself that you mean it. Even if it sounds flirtatious to your own ears… The $kgender tilts $khisher head curiously, $khisher eyes bright with anticipation and eagerness. “Does that displease you, Sparrow?” $kheshe asks, $khisher tone husky and teasing. You feel a pull in your gut and you quietly shake your head. Your companion grins in reply, obviously pleased with your answer. “You may call me the Kestrel.” [[Next|5ld6]]

You’re not sure how much you can really appreciate that at the moment, because being honestly horny isn’t really something you’d put on a resume… “Then if not your name, is there something else I can call you?” you ask. Your companion clicks $khisher tongue in disappointment, but $khisher eyes are still bright and eager. It seems like your refusal to rise to $khisher bait is just as entertaining as if you had. “You may call me the Kestrel,” $kheshe says. [[Next|5ld6]]

//The Kestrel//. Despite having a name to put to a face (or half of one anyway), you still feel a nagging absence in your mind. You’re forgetting something important. But the longer you think about it, the more indifferent you feel. Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things? If your new companion meant you harm, surely $kheshe would have already done something and… You frown. No, that isn’t right. You //should// care. You don’t know this person. You don’t know this place. No matter how comfortable you feel, intellectually you //know// something is wrong. You stubbornly latch onto that. You glance back at the Kestrel, who is watching you with a keen interest, $khisher eyes dancing with quiet amusement. It’s almost certainly at your expense, but what are you missing? You know that you know. This is all too familiar. All of it. From the startling clarity of everything around you to the fogginess in your head… It’s like dreaming. [[Next|5ld7]]

The word itself shakes something loose in your mind and a dam gives out. Your head clears and you are bombarded by both the startling clarity of the world around you and the press of someone else’s psyche against yours. The dream remains intact, but at the same time you can see through its layers. “Oh, Sparrow…” You turn sharply back to the Kestrel, caught off-guard by the soft, almost //reverent// tone of $khisher voice. $kupperheshe is looking at you as if admiring a work of art. “You are a wonder,” $kheshe says. [[Aggressively nope.|5lagro][$khos +=1]] ✿ [[Nope. But polite.|5ldip][$kdip +=1]] 🏵

You wake with a jerk and throw yourself upright. The dream has left you disoriented and for a second you have no idea where you are. Then a hand catches your shoulder. “$name?" You look sharply to $zname as $zheshe kneels down beside the couch with concern evident in $zhisher expression. Seeing $zhimher and feeling $zhisher hand on your arm grounds you in reality and you orient yourself quickly, remembering that you fell asleep on the couch in Carter’s office at the station. With your next breath, you’re greeted by a fresh waft of cigarette smoke and old carpet. It’s comforting in a way and you take a moment to just breathe and slow your racing heart. You look back at $zname and find $zhimher watching you with a furrowed brow. “Were you having a bad dream?” $zheshe asks. Morning light slants in through the ancient metal blinds pulled down over the windows and it makes the dust motes floating in the air glow like little sparks. The light warms and gentles the sharp, angular lines of $znamepos face and makes $zhisher mercury-colored eyes glow. [[Next|6common1]]

“Something like that, I guess…” Your mouth is too dry and your thoughts are racing too much for you to put the right words together. You’re not even sure where to begin. You’re not even entirely sure what just //happened//. It all certainly felt real enough. <<if $kmeeting is "common">> You can still feel the night air against your skin… <<elseif $kmeeting is "logic">> You can still smell the must of old books…<<elseif $kmeeting is "intuition">> You can still smell the green of the gardens and the sweetness of flowers… <</if>> Then there was the Kestrel. $kupperheshe was real. You can still see $khisher face as clearly as a photograph. The glint of fangs behind smirking lips, the piercing blue of $khisher eyes… Your gut knots up with anxiety and you look at $zname again. You need to tell someone. You’re not versed enough yet in the supernatural to just start //assuming// anything. Moreover, there’s also what you learned about the Exile. If the Kestrel was telling you the truth, you know the next crucial step you have to take to find Casey, and you don’t think the others will accept that it just came to you in a dream. [[Next|6commonchoice1]]

<<link [["Tell " + $zname + "."|Zroute1]]>>[\<<set $ktold to "Z">>]<</link>> <<link [["Tell " + $rname + "."|Rroute1]]>>[\<<set $ktold to "R">>]<</link>> <<link [["Tell Carter."|Croute1]]>>[\<<set $ktold to "C">>]<</link>>

You look at $zname again and find $zhimher still watching you with $zhisher brow furrowed in worry. You haven’t had the chance to talk much and you’re not sure how much you actually trust $zhimher. Given what you overheard the other day, you suspect that there’s a lot more going on under the surface than anyone has let on. <<if ($zshy gte 2) or ($zplay gte 2)>> Even knowing this, there’s something electric about $zhisher proximity. You can almost feel it pulling you closer. <<else>> Still, Carter must trust $zhimher enough to keep $zhimher around. Or at least Carters trusts in $zhisher ability to do $zhisher job. <</if>> $zname seems to sense the change in your demeanor. “You can tell me if something is troubling you,” $zheshe reassures you. “I would like to help, if I can.” [[Next|zroute12]]

You apologize and quickly excuse yourself to $zname, without explanation, and rush out into the hallway. On your way to the bullpen, you try to fix your somewhat rumpled appearance, which is a lost cause, and stop in the doorway just long enough to ask one of the deputies where Carter is. They direct you outside to the smallish garage attached to the station. It mostly goes unused except for the occasional bit of maintenance work that can’t wait. And Carter. Sometimes you suspect that Carter just needs to keep his hands busy at all times, because if the man doesn’t have any work to do, he will make work for himself. You find him under the jeep, laying on an old wooden creeper with rusted casters that shriek with every movement. The garage smells like oil and cigarettes. [["So, remember when I was a kid and you thought I was crazy at first when I told you about hearing things?"|csnark1][$snark +=1]] ♤ [["Hey, Carter? Can we talk?"|ckind1][$kind +=1]] ♢ [["Someone's in my dreams."|cgrumpy1][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

"[['Troubling’ might be underselling it a little.|zroutesnark1][$snark +=1]]" ♤ [[You sigh. “I wish I knew where to begin.”|zroutekind1][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[“Do you have any way to keep other people out of my dreams?” you ask. “Because that’s the help I need.”|zroutegrumpy1][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

“I’m going to sound crazy saying it out loud.” $zupperheshe offers you a reassuring half-smile. “Given my line of work I doubt that will be a problem.” You shoot $zhimher a skeptical look. “I think someone is stalking my dreams. Is that a thing? Like, a real thing that can happen?” $zname looks at you for a moment, as if not quite understanding the words coming out of your mouth. Then $zhisher brow furrows even further. “It can certainly happen,” $zheshe says, slowly. “But how do you know…?” “$kupperheshe wasn’t subtle,” you reply. [[Next|zroute13]]

$znamepos brow furrows even further and $zheshe tentatively lays a hand on your knee. “Are you all right?” There’s something comforting about $zhisher touch—it’s gentle and light, like $zheshe is petting a skittish animal. You give $zhisher hand a squeeze in return. “I’m fine. It’s just…” you trail off as you rub your eyes. “Can fae interfere with your dreams?” The $zgender raises an eyebrow at you. “Some fae can,” $zheshe says slowly. “Though it’s rare. As I understand it, psychics generally have quite vivid dreams. Are you sure it was not—?” You shake your head, cutting $zhimher off. “I’m sure.” [[Next|zroute13]]

$zname looks taken aback, but only for a moment. “As I understand it, psychics are prone to quite vivid dreams at times. Are you sure—?” “If this is a trick I’m playing on myself then I’m a lot more clever than I thought,” you cut $zhimher off, shaking your head. [[Next|zroute13]]

The sound of a ratchet turning suddenly pauses and Carter goes still. "What about it?" he asks. "Nothing, I just wanted to remind you that you were wrong the last time you called me crazy so you wouldn't do it again this time." Carter huffs out an almost indignant sounding laugh and pushes himself out from under the jeep to look at you. “What do you want, $boygirl?” he asks as he gets to his feet. [[Next|croute2]]

You’re not afraid of Carter’s reaction or that he won’t believe you. You know him better than that. He’s always taken your supernatural experiences at face value and you don’t have any reason to think he won’t now. You’re just not sure where to begin. “Can this wait until after I’m done?” he asks. You smile a little to yourself. You know a lot of people would assume that Carter was annoyed or didn’t want to be interrupted, but you know that he’s just asking how much you need him to pay attention—if you’re just annoyed and venting or if you’ve potentially cut off your hand. “I don’t think it should,” you reply. There’s a pause and then Carter pushes himself out from under the jeep and sits up. “You all right?” he asks as he wipes his hands with an old rag. [[Next|croute2]]

It says something about your relationship with the old man that this might not be the weirdest thing you’ve ever told him. It’s definitely up there, but it’s not totally out of left field. There’s a pause and then Carter pushes himself out from under the vehicle and gives you a critical look. “//In// your dreams?” he asks. It probably also says something about the old man’s personal experience that he immediately believes you. “Yeah.” Carter sighs and forces himself upright and onto his feet. “All right. Start at the beginning.” [[Next|croute2]]

You follow Carter when he moves to the work bench. The first thing he does is stub out the cigarette he’s left burning in the ashtray before leaning back against the bench and facing you. [[You try to be clear and succinct. The more fantastic elements of the dream are definitely interesting, but they’re not useful.|croute3][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[You emphasize the surreal aspects of the dream and the details. You’ve never experienced anything quite so vivid in a dream.|croute3][$intuit +=1]] ❂

“And then I met the Kestrel…” Something must change in your tone, because Carter seems to perk up a little. “The Kestrel? That’s what $kheshe called $kself?” “Yeah.” Carter doesn’t react outwardly except to nod. Then he fixes you with a searching look. “Are you all right?” You shrug. “I guess? I mean, the Kestrel didn’t hurt me.” “Yeah, that counts for something, I guess,” he sighs, briefly giving you another concerned look. “You’ve had some pretty vivid dreams in the past. You’re //sure// this isn’t the same?” “If it is and my brain somehow conjured the Kestrel from the depths of my subconscious, I don’t want to know what that means,” you reply. Carter nods, seemingly relieved that you’re well enough to joke around, and takes in a deep breath. “So… assuming you’re right, then we’re dealing with a dreamwalker.” [[Next|croute4]]

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s that?” “Dreamwalking is old magic. Fae,” Carter replies, waving a hand. “It sounds benign, but a powerful Dreamwalker can kill you in some pretty creative ways. Or they can make you wish you were dead.” “How?” He sighs and tips his head back to stare thoughtfully at the ceiling. “I’ve never known anyone personally who encountered one, but I’ve heard stories about agents who've run into them. One guy dreamed that he had a wife and kids. He saw those kids grow into adults, grew old with the woman, and then woke up. He'd only been out for about an hour, but to him it'd been decades. I was told that he never could come to grips with it all being a dream. Because the things he felt, that love, that was real to //him//.” You raise an eyebrow. “So… what $rname did when he first met…?” “—Wasn’t technically dreamwalking,” the cop cuts in, shaking his head. “You’d have to ask $rhimher about the details, but $rhesheis really only capable of being a nuisance.” [[Next|croute5]]

It’s a lot to take in, but it’s probably better that you know now. No matter how unsettling it is. Knowing what the supernatural is capable of—what the Kestrel is capable of—is important to surviving it. You jolt back to attention when Carter lays a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll figure it out,” he says. “It’s not something I want you to be worried about.” He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly and then gestures vaguely toward the station house. “We do need to tell the others, though. C’mon.” [[Next|collective1]]

✤✤✤ Given the relative size of the station, finding an empty room to talk in is pretty difficult, so you keep the explanation to a minimum and decide to head back to the cabin. Carter’s insistent that you ride with him and you do so without question, leaving $rname and $zname to ride together in your car. When you get back to the cabin, you flop down on the couch as the others find places to sit. Carter places himself near the window, though not in front of it, $rname pulls over a kitchen chair to sit in, and $zname takes the armchair by the hearth. You start the story over again from the beginning with <<if $ktold is "C">> Carter <<elseif $ktold is "R">> $rname <<elseif $ktold is "Z">> $zname <</if>> supplementing and clarifying whatever details you accidentally leave out. When you're done, Carter looks displeased, $rname frowns thoughtfully to $rself, and $zname is silent, sitting pitched forward with $zhisher elbows on $zhisher knees. For a few moments, the quiet in palpable. “Fortunately…” $rnamepos voice trails off thoughtfully as $rhisher mouth tries to catch up to $rhisher brain. “Fortunately, a Dreamwalker may not be as great a threat to you as they would be to others.” [[Next|collective12]]

“Based on what?” Carter asks. “Being a psychic?” $rname nods. “Yes. Granted, our $name should practice blocking out unwanted intrusions, but if anyone has an advantage in such a situation…” $rupperheshe looks ready to say more, but Carter cuts $rhimher off. “If you’re insistent on these lessons of yours, you ought to start there. In the meantime, we should set some wards.” $zname looks up at this and nods in agreement. “That would be prudent. I can create barriers around the property.” “And I can craft some amulets for the doorways,” $rname adds. $rupperheshe looks at you. “The amulets should negate any chance of something willfully misinterpreting politeness as an invitation, but just in case you should be careful.” “Willfully misinterpreting politeness?” you repeat, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Fae are clever manipulators,” $zname explains with a shrug. “It’s common for them to misinterpret the intended meaning of something in order to twist it to their advantage. Oftentimes this is done by literally interpreting something meant to be metaphorical.” [[Next|collective13]]

“Such as asking if they can ‘have’ your name,” $rname adds. “As I said, the amulets should deter any unwelcomed intruders, but they can only stop something from inviting itself in. They can’t stop something from following you here." [[It’s good information to have. You’ll have to file it away for later.|commonLi1][$logic +=1]] ✵ [["It’s good to know. The Kestrel may not have been interested in your name, but that seems to make " + $khimher + " the odd one out."|commonLi1][$intuit +=1]] ❂

You sigh and slump back into the couch cushions. “So what now?” “We should start with this ‘Exile’. We didn’t have any luck catching that changeling, so this is our only lead right now,” Carter says. “You said your visitor gave you information?” “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that,” you mutter, your brow furrowing a little. “I think we have to go back to the Powells’ house.” $rname and $zname look a little skeptical, but Carter just nods and checks his watch. “The younger kids have been staying with their grandparents and the mother works at the post office. Mr. Powell works nights, but I can call and ask him to meet me, so that should get him off the property for a few hours. Is that long enough?” You shrug. “I guess we’ll see.” Carter just nods. “Who do you want to go with?” You’re a little surprised that you’re being given the option, because Carter definitely didn’t allow that flexibility the other day. [[Next|collective14]]

“It could be an opportunity for us to continue our lessons,” $rname offers. $zname shakes $zhisher head. “But I’m better equipped to deal with a shade if things turn violent. Given your previous encounter with them, that might be inevitable." You glance at Carter, but the old man is stone-faced and unreadable. "<<link [[Carter.|croute21]]>>[|<<set $route2 to "C">>]<</link>>" "<<link [["" + $rname + "."|rroute21]]>>[|<<set $route2 to "R">>]<</link>>" "<<link [["" + $zname + "."|zroute21]]>>[|<<set $route2 to "Z">>]<</link>>"

“Can you come with me instead?” you ask. It’s not that you don’t trust $rname and $zname. $rname handled the shades just fine during your previous encounter and $zname seems confident in $zhisher abilities. But if you’re going into something unfamiliar, you’d rather have Carter there. The old man's presence is comforting. Like an old sweater. Carter doesn’t even question it. “I can if you’d prefer that,” he says. “I can get one of the deputies to call Mr. Powell and these two can start working on the wards.” You nod, relieved at his easy agreement. “Let’s do that then.” “Then I’m with you.” [[Next|croute22]]

Your course of action decided, you excuse yourself to shower, brush your teeth, and change your clothes. Because you definitely look (and smell, thanks to the old man’s smoking habit) like you spent the night on Carter’s office couch. ✤✤✤ [[Next|croute23]]

✤✤✤ It isn’t long before you find yourself on the road again. The cabin of Carter’s old truck is warm and the cracked leather seats are a familiar comfort. It’s the same truck Carter used to take you to school in and the seats still smell like aftershave and motor oil. “I was surprised you said you’d come,” you say. Carter doesn’t look at you, though you can tell he’s listening. “Why?” “You said we shouldn’t go anywhere together,” you reply. “You said that was safer. So what’s changed?” “Nothing, unfortunately,” he says. “But I’m not going to ignore it if you think you need me. It’s a risk, but this is new to you. Really, I should’ve been there when you bumped into the shades the first time.” [[Next|croute24]]

[["Aw, I love you too," you gush, leaning across the seat to lay your head against Carter’s shoulder.|csnark2][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[You try and ultimately fail to suppress a smile.|ckind2][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[You’ve been accused in the past of inheriting Carter’s less than shining social graces, so you’re just as comfortable as he is with mushiness.|cgrumpy2][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

He snorts at you and shrugs you off of him, but you catch the tail end of half-smile even as he rolls his eyes. “How’s all that going, anyway?” you ask with some genuine curiosity. “Have you found out anything?” Carter sighs. “A little. From what we could tell they used a skipper to come and go, which means there’s no way for us to track them.” You frown a little at that. “I mean, I could still try to see if they left behind any impressions.” “You could, but I’m not going to let you,” he replies. He glances at you and clocks your mildly annoyed expression. “$zname said $zheshe found a brain bomb they left behind.” You stare at Carter for a second, blinking once and then twice as you try to make sense of that last bit. And ultimately fail. “A what-what?” [[Next|croute25]]

From the moment Carter took you in, you knew he’d protect you. It’s not something he’s ever had to say with words. It’s just a fact—a law of the universe. But Carter’s not comfortable with mush, so you don’t say anything either. “How’s all that going, anyway?” you ask with some genuine curiosity. “Have you found out anything?” Carter sighs. “A little. From what we could tell they used a skipper to come and go, which means there’s no way for us to track them.” You frown a little at that. “I mean, I could still try to see if they left behind any impressions.” “You could, but I’m not going to let you,” he replies. He glances at you and clocks your mildly annoyed expression. “$zname said $zheshe found a brain bomb they left behind.” You stare at Carter for a second, blinking once and then twice as you try to make sense of that last bit. And ultimately fail. “A what-what?” [[Next|croute25]]

Which is to say you’re not. So when Carter doesn’t elaborate on his point, you don’t say anything either. “How’s all that going, anyway?” you ask with some genuine curiosity. “Have you found out anything?” Carter sighs. “A little. From what we could tell they used a skipper to come and go, which means there’s no way for us to track them.” You frown a little at that. “I mean, I could still try to see if they left behind any impressions.” “You could, but I’m not going to let you,” he replies. He glances at you and clocks your mildly annoyed expression. “$zname said $zheshe found a brain bomb they left behind.” You stare at Carter for a second, blinking once and then twice as you try to make sense of that last bit. And ultimately fail. “A what-what?” [[Next|croute25]]

He scoffs out a half-laugh. “A brain bomb. It’s a type of ward—the nasty kind. Most wards just repel things or people, but brain bombs are more like magic land mines. Except instead of taking your arm off or whatever, it destroys you on the inside. It affects everyone, whether they’re a paranatural or not, so it doesn’t necessarily mean they know anything about you. They’re just powerful and they’re willing to go pretty far to remain hidden.” You make a face. “What did you do to piss someone off that much?” you ask. Carter’s lips turn up a little at the corners and you see something like //pride// in his eyes. He glances at you. “I did my job,” he says. “And if you’re doing that kind of job right, you piss off a lot of dangerous people. Looking back on it, maybe that was a mistake.” “Why?” “Because I never planned on having a wife or a family,” he replies. “Then I moved up here, scraped some weird kid off the road, and that plan went all to hell.” You half-heartedly hit his shoulder in retaliation and Carter just laughs. [[Next|croute26]]

✤✤✤ There are no cars parked at the Powells’ house when you arrive, but Carter still rolls the jeep up the driveway cautiously, as if half-expecting someone to appear at any minute. Once certain that you’re in the clear, he puts the truck in park and sits back in the driver’s seat. “So, how sure are you about the fae?” he asks. You sigh. “I'm not,” you say. “But this is all we’ve got, unless you think you can find the changeling.” Carter shakes his head. “No, that thing’s long gone,” he replies. “Changelings aren’t all that clever, but they’re smart enough not to stick around after getting found out. We could turn the county upside down and never find it. Still…” He takes a breath and lets it out in a long sigh before glancing at you. “I never asked… but are you alright?” [[You shake your head.|chos][$khos +=1]]✿ [[You sigh. "I'm fine."|cdip][$kdip +=1]] 🏵

“I’m not crazy about it all, but it’ll be worth it if this helps us find Casey.” “I suppose that’s not a bad way of looking at it,” Carter says, nodding. “Still, don’t get comfortable. Being tactful with the Fae can be even more dangerous than being outright hostile.” The both of you climb out of the jeep and shut the doors behind you, falling in together as you come around the front of the vehicle. The sky is gray and overcast and the air has a bite to it, making you hug your coat a little closer. “What’s the plan?” Carter asks. [[A careful, methodical search to cover the whole farm. You already know you can’t pinpoint a fae with your senses. You’ll just have to rely on your regular senses.|clogic2][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[You know you might have some difficulty finding the fae with your extra senses, but you can look for other irregularities.|cintuition2][$intuit +=1]] ❂

“I’m not really a fan of being creeped on in my dreams. If $kheshe tries it again, I’ll make them regret it.” Carter scoffs softly in amusement. “Just don’t bite off more than you can chew. You’re still new to this stuff and the Fae love to use your strengths against you.” The both of you climb out of the jeep and shut the doors behind you, falling in together as you come around the front of the vehicle. The sky is gray and overcast and the air has a bite to it, making you hug your coat a little closer. “What’s the plan?” Carter asks. [[A careful, methodical search to cover the whole farm. You already know you can’t pinpoint a fae with your senses. You’ll just have to rely on your regular senses.|clogic2][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[You know you might have some difficulty finding the fae with your extra senses, but you can look for other irregularities.|cintuition2][$intuit +=1]] ❂

You relay this to Carter, who nods. “All right,” he says. “Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s going to show itself if it’s outnumbered. So we should keep at least a little distance. I’ll walk the perimeter of the property. You check in the barn and shed. We’ll save the house for last.” You nod and the two of you set off toward the backyard. Thankfully, it hasn’t snowed just yet, which makes the trek across the yard possible without freezing your toes off. Still, the wind is strong and unpleasant and you quicken your pace to a jog so you can duck into the barn for shelter as Carter breaks away to walk the edge of the property. Inside the barn, there’s the pungent smell of moldy hay and dust. Still, it’s preferable to the elements and you decide to take your time looking around. Overhead there’s the rustle of feathers as some roosting birds are disturbed by your presence, but you pay them little mind as you pull a penlight from your satchel and shine it around. [[Next|clogic3]]

You relay this to Carter, who nods. “All right,” he says. “Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s going to show itself if it’s outnumbered. So we should keep at least a little distance. I’ll walk the perimeter of the property. You check in the barn and shed. We’ll save the house for last.” You nod and the two of you set off toward the backyard. The problem with not being able to fall back on your extra senses is that you’ve //always// fallen back on your extra senses. Still, Carter’s lessons in detective work haven’t been forgotten. You know that Casey was at least one of the parties where the shades were summoned and if the Kestrel’s information can be trusted then one of those shades followed her home. Which puts Casey at the center of things again. And //Casey// you can track. [[Next|cintuit2]]

You reach out with your senses, but detect nothing unusual. “Hello?” you call out somewhat tentatively. The shades were capable of speaking and interacting with you. Surely the same applies to the exile? Unless a shade’s intelligence was dependent on how many of them there were? Still, thinking back on yours and $rnamepos encountered with the shades gives you an idea. “Ell—oll—//olleh//?” It comes out sounding like a question and you can’t help but wonder how $rname made speaking backwards sound so easy. “Um… //kaeps… ew? Ew… nac? Kaeps ew nac//?” You feel simultaneously stupid and impressed with yourself. [[Next|cbarn1]]

Overhead, there are birds nesting in the rafters that are disturbed by your presence and they squawk and flap as they try to resettle themselves. You look up at the sound and your eyes catch sight of an old hay loft. And then---there. A flicker of movement that briefly blocks out the light filtering down through the slats of the floorboards. You glance around and spot an old, wooden ladder. You touch the wood and feel the strong echo of Casey’s presence reverberate through it. The ladder doesn’t look reliable at all and it would be stupid to use it—so Casey’s definitely a normal teenager in at least that sense. But you don’t see any other way to reach the loft. So you tentatively put one foot on the last rung and test it with your weight. The wood creaks a little in protest, but it holds. This luck persists until you’re almost to the loft. Then your foot goes straight through one of the rungs and your grip falters as your weight is suddenly yanked out from under you. The rung you grab to catch yourself also cracks at the sudden extra weight pulling down on it and you shout in alarm as you feel yourself fall. [[Next|cbarn2]]

You glance around the yard before pushing your extra senses outward. You feel the living energy where it coalesces around the house, but instead you follow the wisps that move away from it. There are whispers in the driveway, from the family getting into the cars and collecting the mail, and some in the yard where there's an old playset and swings. There’s also the now faint echo of Casey’s trail disappearing into the woods at the edge of the property. But there. You can see an echo of Casey on the back porch. The image overlaps, like it did at her bedroom window, and you follow the overlapping trail with your eyes to the barn. Although the Powells’ homestead was clearly once a farm, it obviously no longer serves that function. The out-buildings are old and haven’t been attended to in some time. As you approach the barn and step inside you’re greeted by the pungent scent of moldy hay and dust. Casey’s presence here is much stronger, indicating she’s spent quite a lot of time in the barn. But there isn’t any fear present. It’s happy. Warm. [[Next|cbarn1]]

Then something catches you. You look up sharply and for a second you’re not quite sure what you’re seeing. A hand has grabbed your arm, but it’s not really a hand. Not a human one anyway. It’s shadowy and cold like ice. And the eyes you meet are little pinpricks of light set against a swath of darkness. You’re too shocked to react or speak, even as the shadow's form stretches to gently lowers you to the floor and your feet meet solid ground again. Then it retreats and you suddenly come back to yourself: “Hey! Wait!” You lose sight of the thing, but you can feel it lingering nearby and you realize somewhat belatedly that it isn’t blocking you like the others did. In fact, its presence isn’t like the deafening shriek of the other shades at all. It’s just a quiet buzz that you can almost feel against your skin. “I don’t—I mean—” You try to collect yourself, though you’re not really sure where to begin. You were expecting this all to go wrong. Now you’re at a loss. [[Next|cdialoguechoice3]]

[[“I’m sorry, if I seem freaked out,” you say quickly. “My previous experience with the other shades didn’t really prep me for this. But thank you?”|croute27][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“Thank you!” you say in a relieved rush. “I appreciate your help.”|croute27][$kind +=1]] ♡ [[“Yeah I’m definitely the wrong person for this job,” you sigh. “I mean… thank you? Thank you. Yeah, let’s go with that.”|croute27][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

There’s a beat and you’re certain the shade won’t respond only to be met with a very quiet, garbled chirp. Then: “//Welcome//.” You blink. It is slightly less disconcerting than the way the other shades spoke as a chorus, but not by much. Especially since, thanks to the changeling, you recognize its voice as Casey’s. Still you take a breath to steady yourself. “Good,” you conclude, nodding. “That’s… it’s good. We’re good.” You receive a quiet, upturned warble in reply and the shade materializes above you like a shadow being cast on the underside of the loft. It moves, liquid and graceful, down the wall until you’re facing each other properly. Its shape isn’t as distinctly human as the other shades, but there’s the definitive outline of a stooped head and shoulders. It looks half curled in on itself, as if trying to be smaller. “So…” You take another breath to steady yourself. The shade seems to prefer lingering in the shadows, where it blends in a little more readily. Its form also looks two-dimensional, like a regular shadow would when being cast. “I guess this is where we’re supposed to introduce ourselves, but I don’t know if the name thing applies to you…” [[Next|croute28]]

“It does.” You turn sharply at the sound of Carter’s voice and see him standing in the doorway to the barn. When you look back, the shade has vanished again. You can feel it lingering, but you can also feel its hesitation. If it runs off, you’ll never find it again and— “It’s all right,” Carter says with a knowing look as he approaches slowly, his hands tucked into his pockets, and his eyes fixed on the shadows of the barn. He comes to stop beside you. “I’m with the $boygirl. We’re friendly.<<if $grumpy gte 15>> Mostly.” <<else>>”<</if>> He glances at you and gives you a brief up and down. “Are you all right? I heard you yell.” [[“No, I’m fine. The ladder tried to kill me, but I’m fine,” you say, waving a hand. “It… caught me?”|croute29][$snark +=1]] [[“Well, no. I fell off the ladder,” you say in almost a whisper. “It saved me?”|croute29][$kind +=1]] [[“No. The ladder broke,” you grumble. “But…. I guess it saved me?”|croute29][$grumpy +=1]]

Carter looks as skeptical as you feel. “Did you thank it?” You raise an eyebrow at him in return. “Yes?” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Don’t do that when you’re dealing with fae,” he says. “They’ll count it as a debt.” “And I’m guessing that’s bad.” “Kid, does it //sound// like a good thing?” “So what do—” “//No//.” You both turn to spot two pinpricks of light watching you from the darkest corner of the room. The shade doesn’t come any closer, but neither does it run. And unlike before, there’s something strangely adamant about its reply. “No what?” you ask. There’s a trill and then your voice, “N o,” followed by Carter’s, “<b>debt</b>.” [[Next|croute30]]

This seems to confuse Carter even further. “No debt?” he repeats. “That’s—” “No debt.” It comes out even more firmly, in a voice that doesn’t mimic yours or Carter’s or //Casey’s//. You’re not sure what that means, but for once, you and Carter seem to be on the same, confused page, because the old man looks genuinely surprised and at a loss for what to say. Still, there’s no time to puzzle it all out now. “So… we can’t introduce ourselves?” you ask, to break the stalemate. Carter is still staring at the shade, like it has answers to offer, but ultimately shakes his head. “We can’t give our names, but we can introduce each other. You don’t have the power to give away someone else’s name—well, not generally,” he says. He gestures to you. “This is $name.” “Oh—well, then this is Carter.” You squint into the shadows. “Do you have a name? Or well, I guess shades don’t have names do they? If they’re supposed to—” “//Erebus.//” You and Carter blink at each other and then look back at the shade at the same time as it tentatively slinks out of shadows and draws nearer. Its attention is centered on Carter, though it doesn’t seem afraid. “Erebus?” Carter sounds taken aback. “Did you name yourself?” [[Next|croute31]]

There’s a hum and then: “//Casey//.” Carter’s eyebrows climb even higher on his forehead. “Casey gave you a name?” There’s an uncertain warbling sound and then Carter’s voice answers: “<b>Yes</b>.” “So, you followed Casey home?” Carter’s voice again answers: “<b>Yes</b>.” “Why?” “//....Friends.//” Carter frowns a little at this, though he doesn’t look displeased. Just thoughtful. “What about your collective?” You’re not quite sure how it manages it, but the shade’s answer comes as a distinctly //negative// sounding buzz, like Carter had just given a wrong answer on a game show. The meaning transcends language and you laugh a little in spite of yourself. “So, what now?” you ask. Carter gives a long-suffering sigh and rubs the back of his head. “I’m… really not sure. If Casey was friends with this thing, then that changes the story a lot,” he admits, as he makes a face. “Unfortunately, I don’t think it can talk in complete sentences, so we’re probably not going to get the full story out of it easily. At least, it’s going to take more time than we’ve got right now.” [[Next|croute32]]

“I could try to read it?” you suggest tentatively. Carter grimaces. “I don’t like that idea—not here at least,” he says. “I can’t do anything to help you if something goes wrong.” “Then let’s go back to the cabin and talk with $rname. $rupperheshe can probably help,” you say. You gesture at the shade—Erebus. “We can take it—them with us.” “Didn’t $rname just warn you about inviting shit in?” he grouses. You snort and wave a hand in the shade’s general direction. “I think if it wanted to hurt me, it’d have just let me fall off the ladder,” you say. “Besides, without the changeling this is all we’ve got. What are we supposed to do if we want to talk to them again? Sneak back here? Tell the Powells there’s something urgent we need to investigate in the barn?” Carter groans and wipes a hand down his face. “Fine.” [[Next|croute33]]

The shade chirps in what seems to be agreement and slinks closer to you. You’re not quite sure what it’s doing and you watch curiously as it seems to melt into a puddle of black mist that collects under your feet and disappears. It produces a strange, cold sensation that you can feel through your shoes, but there’s otherwise no indicator of its presence. Carter gives you an uneasy look, but doesn’t say anything as he leads the way back out of the barn. You’re about halfway across the yard, following on Carter’s heels, when you feel it. A shiver. //Prescience//. At the same time, you //feel// the shade panic and the pleasant hum turns into a shrill whine. [[You’re not making the same mistake twice.|clogic4][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[“Carter…!”|cintuit4][$intuit +=1]] ❂

You don’t say anything and instead you break into a sprint, grabbing Carter’s arm as you pass him and urging him to follow. It’s a credit to Carter and a sign of his faith in you that he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he immediately takes the hint and you both bolt together across the yard. The driver’s door is the closest and when Carter opens it you throw yourself across the bench seat to the passenger side. “What is it?” he asks as he slams the key into the ignition. You shake your head, even as your eyes scan the tree line around the farm, looking for some hint of something. You don’t see anything strange and you can’t feel anything with your extra senses, though the shade’s panic is still a shrill chord in the back of your head. Carter doesn’t wait for your answer as he brings the truck around sharply, leaving rooster tails of dust behind as the tires dig into the gravel of the driveway. [[Next|croute34]]

Something in your voice gives you away, because Carter doesn’t even ask. Instead, he immediately grabs you by the arm and all-but drags you to the truck, taking care to shield you to the best of his ability along the way. The driver’s door is closest and when Carter opens it, you throw yourself across the bench seat to the passenger side. You reach out with your extra senses, searching for another’s presence on the property, but you can’t feel anything and the shade’s panic is making you nauseous. Carter spares you a worried glance for just a second, but his focus is obviously elsewhere as he throws the truck into reverse and the tires kick up sprays of gravel and dust. [[Next|croute34]]

Neither of you speak for some time. Carter keeps checking the rear view mirror as he drives with one hand on the wheel. The other flexes and clenches against his leg, close to his holster. For your part, the feeling of //knowing// hasn’t abated. It shrieks in your ears like nails on a chalkboard and there’s no relief no matter how much distance is put between you and the Powells’. Carter glances in the rearview again and then over at you. “What was it?” You shake your head. “I don’t know. There wasn’t anything there. I couldn’t sense anyone—” “Doesn’t matter,” he cuts in quickly, before you can self-deprecate. “I’d rather just follow your gut feeling than ignore it.” You nod, but you can’t help but draw your legs up onto the seat in front of you, practically curling in on yourself. You try, but you can't shake off the horrible, sinking feeling that the day's not quite over yet. [[Next|crouteend]]

✤✤✤ Even after you leave the Powells’ residence behind, you still feel watched. Hunted almost. And it must show. Carter hasn’t said anything, but he drives well over the speed limit and the whole time his jaw is clenched and his eyes bounce repeatedly from the road, to the rearview mirror, to you, and back. The shade—Erebus—is still nervous too. You can feel it and when you glance down at your feet, you can see little wisps of shadow moving agitatedly around on the floorboards. For a moment, though not for the first time, you reflect on how weird your life has become. Granted, you’ve never actually been normal and wouldn’t even know what that looked like, but your day-to-day life used to at least have some sense of consistency. Now, it feels like you fall a little further down the rabbit hole every hour. It’s only been a few days since everything’s started, but it feels much longer. Carter pulls into the driveway of the cabin so fast, that $rname and $zname come out onto the porch with some noticeable concern. “You’ve brought company,” $zname says, eyeing the ground at your feet as you get out of the jeep. “There was an unavoidable complication,” Carter replies. “How are the wards?” “Unfinished,” $rname replies, raising an eyebrow. “You know that wards take time to craft.” $rupperhisher gaze switches then to you and $rhisher expression softens into one of worry. [[Next|collective3]]

“$ruppetname, are you all right?” You’re not. You can’t take your eyes off the woods around you. Maybe it’s Erebus’ obvious discomfort making you paranoid, but that feeling of being watched and stalked hasn’t let up at all. In fact, it’s worse. You can feel it closing in on you. “Car—” Your breath catches in your throat, because you feel it—like the snapping of a wire. A release. Something’s coming. $zname moves faster than you can even track and roughly jerks you to the side as $zheshe throws a hand out. An instant later, an arrow—or something that looks like it—bounces off an apparently invisible barrier and clatters uselessly to the ground at $znamepos feet. An instant later, it dissolves. You're frozen, but the others are not. Carter pulls you behind him as his hand goes to the gun at his hip and jerks it out of the holster. In the same motion, he flicks the safety off and backs up, crowding you closer to the porch. [[Next|collective32]]

“Seelie,” $zname grunts over $zhisher shoulder. “They’re close.” You’re just about to ask what that means—why would one of the Seelie be //here//—when you catch movement in your peripheral vision. You follow it to the figure of a person who has simply appeared out of thin air in the middle of the driveway. Or, rather, a fae. It’s given away by the black of their sclera and the ethereal, almost androgynous beauty of their features, which mirrors the Kestrel's. But that is where the similarities end. Unlike the Kestrel, this fae’s skin is an enviable, golden bronze and their hair is shimmering blond. They wear what is apparently some kind of leather armor, which is stiff and ornate with golden filigree and stitching, but their movements as they come closer are graceful and fluid, like a dancer’s. “You’re trespassing,” $rname speaks first, $rhisher voice steady and firm. “You’re violating boundary laws.” The fae doesn’t even acknowledge $rname. Instead, their attention is fixed solely on you. You try not to give away your unease, but you can feel Erebus trying to make itself smaller somehow. Cowering. “Do you know what you shelter?” the fae asks, suddenly. Their voice is smooth, almost musical, but their tone and expression is cold and stony. [[Next|collectivedia2]]

[[“Pretty sure, but it sounds like you want to tell me anyway.”|collectivesnark][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“They aren’t a threat to you.”|collectkind][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[“Does it matter? You’re obviously here for a reason.”|collectgrumpy][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

The fae’s lip curls a little in obvious disgust. “That thing is an aberration. You would be wise to separate yourself from it.” You glance down at your feet. It feels like you’re standing on ice and the curious, almost pleasant hum of the shade has almost disappeared completely. You can’t help but feel a little protective. “Nah.” The fae’s stony expression doesn’t change, but you can //feel// the hot, sudden spike of anger from them. “Do not make this harder on yourself, mortal! You—!” They take a step toward you, but Carter quickly counters and physically shoves them back a step, which the fae clearly wasn't ready for as they visibly lose their balance. “You better choose the next words that come out of your mouth really, fucking carefully,” he warns. His tone is low and measured. Calm. The fae snarls, looking more offended than anything. “And who are you to threaten me, human?” Carter casts a wary glance back at you, before reaching for his left arm. He pushes the sleeve of his coat and shirt up to bare his forearm, which he raises to show the fae. You can't see it from where you're standing, but living with Carter for as long as you have, you know immediately that he's showing the fae an old tattoo on his forearm. It's nothing wild or impressive---just a narrow line of simple sigils in black ink that run from his wrist to the ditch of his elbow. In the past, when you asked about their meaning, Carter dismissed them as nothing important. [[Next|collective33]]

The fae clicks their tongue in annoyance. “Agreed, but //it// is something that must be eradicated regardless.” You glance down at your feet. It feels like you’re standing on ice and the curious, almost pleasant hum of the shade has almost disappeared completely. You can’t help but feel a little protective. “Nah.” The fae’s stony expression doesn’t change, but you can //feel// their annoyance. “Do not make this harder on yourself, mortal. You—” They take a step toward you, but Carter quickly counters and physically shoves them back a step before crowding in closer, walling off their ability to reach you. “You better choose the next words that come out of your mouth really, fucking carefully,” he warns. His tone is low and measured. Calm. The fae sneers. “And who are you, human?” Carter casts a wary glance back at you, before reaching for his left arm. He pushes the sleeve of his coat and shirt up to bare his forearm, which he raises to show the fae. Living with him for as long as you have, you’re familiar with the tattoo there—a narrow line of sigils you could never make sense of. You’ve asked about their meaning before, but Carter dismissed them as nothing important. [[Next|collective33]]

“How astute,” the fae says, their flat tone somehow still conveying snark //and// condescension. “It is an aberration and must be purged.” You glance down at your feet. It feels like you’re standing on ice and the curious, almost pleasant hum of the shade has almost disappeared completely. You can’t help but feel a little protective. “Nah.” The fae’s stony expression doesn’t change, but you can //feel// their anger. “Do not make this harder on yourself, mortal. You—” They take a step toward you, but Carter quickly counters and physically shoves them back a step before crowding in closer, walling off their ability to reach you. “You better choose the next words that come out of your mouth really, fucking carefully,” he warns. His tone is low and measured. Calm. The fae sneers. “And who are you, human?” Carter casts a wary glance back at you, before reaching for his left arm. He pushes the sleeve of his coat and shirt up to bare his forearm, which he raises to show the fae. Living with him for as long as you have, you’re familiar with the tattoo there—a narrow line of sigils you could never make sense of. You’ve asked about their meaning before, but Carter dismissed them as nothing important. [[Next|collective33]]

But the fae doesn’t seem to agree. To your shock, they physically //reel// backwards, all of their grace and elegance gone as they nearly trip over their own feet in an attempt to put distance between themselves and Carter. And for the first time you can see a genuine emotion register on their ageless face. //Fear//. “//Balor//,” the fae whispers. "You're Balor?" You quickly glance at $rname and $zname, but neither of them react to this at all. In fact, it seems anticipated. $rname almost looks //bored// and $zname appears attentive, but at ease. Unbothered. “Yeah. I am,” Carter says as he moves a step closer, forcing the fae back another step to maintain the distance between them. “And you just tried to kill my kid. The only reason I’m not turning your kneecaps inside out right now is because they don’t need to see that.” The fae shakes their head, though it's hard to say whether it's disbelief or just stubborness. Either way, they make a game attempt to recollect themselves and mask their failing nerve. "It doesn't matter," they say. "Your interference in this matter won't be tolerated." "Yeah? Then do something about it." You have no idea what's going on---which is really par for the course lately---but watching Carter make a haughty, (probably) ancient being fall all over themself in abject terror is an amazing consolation prize. [[Next|collectILcheck]]

[[The involvement of yet another Fae is not an accident.|collectlogic2]] ✵ [[Something feels off.|collectintuit2]] ❂

<<if $logic gte "10">>You glance down at your shoes again. Erebus called Casey a friend. Casey disappeared at the edge of the family property, where $rname found traces of Seelie and Unseelie magic. You look back at the fae, narrowing your eyes. “The shades didn’t take Casey. //You// took Casey.” <<else>> You know you have the pieces of the puzzle, but you can’t quite pull them all together. There’s a larger picture here that you’re missing. “Where is the girl?” $rname does not raise $rhisher voice, but $zhisher careful, measured tone still cuts the tension in the air like a knife. And it clicks. Casey was taken by a fae. Just not by the one you assumed. <</if>> [[Next|collect34]]

<<if $intuit gte 10>>You try to remember what $rname said about the Seelie and Unseelie being enemies. You glance down at your feet. Did that make Casey the Seelie's enemy too? “Where’s Casey?” you ask, breaking the frigid stalemate.<<else>>You know you have the pieces of the puzzle, but you can’t quite pull them all together. There’s a larger picture here that you’re missing. “Where is the girl?” $rname does not raise $rhisher voice, but $zhisher careful, measured tone still cuts the tension in the air like a knife. And it clicks. Casey was taken by a fae. Just not by the one you assumed. <</if>> [[Next|collect34]]

The fae’s lip curls into a sneer. “You want the girl?” they ask. “Hand over the aberration.” You didn’t expect them to come right out and admit to it like that. Though, maybe you should have. If the Kestrel is anything to go by, fae aren’t familiar with the concept of ‘shame’, so why //wouldn’t// they admit to taking Casey? Especially if she was useful. Before you can say anything, $rnamepos voice cuts the tension: “Parley.” The fae’s attention turns on $rhimher, obviously irate. “You have no right to call for such a meeting!” $rname holds up a finger. “Yes, we do,” $rheshe counters. “You kidnapped a human child. We have every right to call for a meeting with the Courts to sort it out. In fact, that's the //oldest// reason for calling parley." [[Next|collect35]]

“Alternatively, we could report this incident to MAB,” $zname offers. $zupperhisher tone is cool and flat, but $zhisher gaze is sharp and cutting. “They would be very interested to hear how the Morning Court has violated our treaties.” The fae sneers at them both, obviously annoyed. “Fine,” they scoff eventually. “If you wish to throw yourself to the Courts in defense of that //thing// then I will not stop you. The Shadow King has not attended an assembly in ages. He will not do so for your sake now. You will be subject to the whims of the Morning Court and I do not pity you.” [[Next|collect36]]

The threat doesn’t seem to phase Carter. He just looks bored and annoyed. “Get moving or I’ll //throw// you back over the boundary line.” The fae makes a face, but seemingly thinks better of saying anything. They cast one last scowl in your direction before simply vanishing from sight, the same way they’d abruptly appeared. At first, no one moves, as if not quite convinced it’s safe. But you’re the first to break the silence: <<if $grumpy gte 15>> “What the fuck does ‘Balor’ mean?” <<elseif $snark gte 15>> “What the actual hell just happened? And what does ‘Balor’ mean?” <<else>> “Um… could someone explain? Maybe starting with the ‘Balor’ thing?” <</if>> Carter shakes his head as he moves to rejoin you near the porch. “That’s not important.” “Seemed kind of important,” you argue skeptically. The cop just rolls his eyes, looking tired and annoyed. And older. “Fine, the short version: when you’re enough of a pain in the ass for the Courts, they give you a title because they don’t really distinguish between fear and respect." You eye him as you roll this idea around in your head. "Yeah, that's no where near enough of an explanation. What---?" “$upperboygirl, just go inside and pack a bag.” [[End Chapter 6|Begin7]]

“Do you know where $rname is?” you ask. Your brain still feels foggy from the dream and you wobble when you stand, but you catch yourself quickly. $zname puts out a hand to steady you, as if half-expecting you to tip over entirely. “$rname is downstairs pestering the other officers,” $zheshe says. “Are you sure you’re alright?” You nod. "I’m fine,” you say quickly. “Thank you.” You wave $zhimher off and continue to the door. You still feel horribly off-kilter, which makes walking feel especially precarious. You wonder if that’s a side effect of sleeping on a couch that’s older than you are or a consequence of whatever the Kestrel did to you. Still, you acclimate as you move and step out into the bullpen, looking around for $rname. At this hour, the station is relatively empty and it only takes a second before you spot $rhimher sifting through an open file cabinet. $rupperhisher hair is pulled back in a messy knot and $rhisher shirtsleeves are unbuttoned and rolled up. It’s obvious—given $rhisher usually fastidious appearance—that $rheshe has been up all night. You briefly recall the entire ordeal with the changeling, but quickly push it from your mind as you approach. [[Next|rroute2]]

$zname is quiet for a long moment as $zheshe processes what you’ve said. You get the feeling that $zheshe doesn’t want to jump to any hasty conclusions or feed your obvious anxiety. [[You take a breath to calm yourself. You need to think clearly about this in order to deal with it. But that’s easier said than done.|zroute14][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[ You’re glad that at least one of you can be methodical about this. Because you don’t think you can be and you know enough to know that your gut instinct here is probably not going to be helpful.|zroute14][$intuit +=1]] ❂

“If you’re comfortable…” $zname begins at length, $zhisher eyes meeting yours carefully. “If you’re comfortable, would you tell me about your dream?” Something about $zhisher ability to stay calm helps you do it too. You nod. “It was… I guess I don’t know where I was. Some kind of castle, maybe? I’ve never seen anything like that…” You trail off as you think. <<if $kmeeting is "common">> “There was a garden and a party of some kind—everyone was wearing masks and ballgowns.” <<elseif $kmeeting is "library">> “There was a library—or a tower that looked like a library. I’ve never seen so many books…” <<else>> “There was a maze—a labyrinth I guess. I saw these flowers that looked like glass…”<</if>> You go further, describing the details of the things you saw, smelled, and felt. It’s all still there in your mind, recorded with crystal clarity, like a snapshot taken by a camera. You can feel the silk fabric of your costume and the weight of your mask. <<if $kmet is "yeswine">> You can still taste the flowery crispness of the wine on your tongue. <<elseif $kmet is "up">> You can still feel the night air against your skin and see the night sky when you close your eyes. <<elseif $kmet is "nocheat">> You can still feel the softness of the grass and smell the night air. <</if>> It’s all still so real. Even knowing now that it was a dream, it’s hard to believe you weren’t really there. [[Next|zroute15]]

“Did you speak to anyone?” $zname asks when you’ve finished. Electric blue eyes and sharp, gleaming teeth flash in your mind. “Yeah," you say, slowly. "$kupperheshe called $kself ‘the Kestrel’.” The agent takes a slow breath. “An anonym. Did you give your name?” “$kupperheshe told me not to.” This is apparently unexpected and there’s a flicker of incredulity in $znamepos expression, but it’s gone just as quickly. You wonder if it’s an agent thing. You’ve seen Carter rein in his reactions and emotions with the same deftness. “Is that strange?” you ask. You appreciate $znamepos obvious efforts to not overwhelm you, but there’s something unnerving about the silence too. “In a way, yes,” $zname replies. “Such rules are only applicable to the fae—so, that’s almost certainly what your ‘guest’ was. But a typical fae wouldn’t warn you of such a thing.” “Because your name gives them power over you?” The agent raises an eyebrow. “Did they tell you that?” “Yes. They also gave me information about Casey.” [[Next|zroute16]]

For some reason, this seems to be even more of a cause for alarm and $zheshe stands and begins pacing. “This is not in their nature at all,” $zheshe says eventually. $zupperheshe rubs uncomfortably at $zhisher neck. “I do not like to paint an entire people with the same brush, as there are always exceptions, but for the most part the fae see humans as toys. Playthings. Their help rarely comes for free. That one would approach you at all...” You’re half-tempted to point out that certainly still //felt// like a plaything to the Kestrel, but you hold it in. “So, what does it mean?” “I… I have no idea,” $zname admits, looking somewhat troubled by $zhisher own words. $zupperheshe purposefully meets your eye. “If you need a moment more to collect yourself, I understand, but we must tell the others.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|collective1]]

“I guess it makes sense for $rname to come with?” you say, shrugging. “You were with me when we first encountered the shades. We might as well finish it together.” “Naturally,” $rname says, sounding just a little smug as $rheshe gets to $rhisher feet. “So I’ll work on the amulets later tonight.” “I’ll get started on the barriers in the meantime,” $zname adds. Carter just nods at them both. “I’ll call Mr. Powell. He should be off the property by time you get there. Just be careful.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|rroute22]]

“You really think it could get violent?” you ask $zname. The agent simply nods. “It’s possible. Shades are typically hostile to all of those outside their collective and I’ve never heard of a single shade existing on its own. It’s difficult to predict what might happen. Anticipating the worst is just prudent.” “Then maybe you should come with,” you say. $zname hesitates and shoots Carter a quick, sideways look. Carter’s whole body has gone tense, like someone just stepped on his tail, but he takes a deep breath and nods. “That’s fine,” he says, though his tone suggests it’s probably not. Still, he doesn’t say anything more and you excuse yourself to shower quickly, brush your teeth, and change your clothes. Because you definitely look (and smell, thanks to the old man’s smoking habit) like you spent the night on Carter’s office couch. You’re getting dressed when you hear a tap-tap at the door. It’s the same knock that woke you up every morning before school and you know immediately who it is. You pull your shirt over your head and then call over your shoulder. “Come in.” [[Next|zroute22]]

"<<link [["Hey, " + $rname + ". I need you for a second."|rroutesnark1]]>>[\<<set $likeblonde to "no">>]<</link>>" ♤ "[["Um, " + $rname + "?"|rroutekind1]]" ♢ "[["Need you. Now."|rroutegrumpy1]]" ♧

$rname very briefly looks concerned, but covers this by huffing out a laugh and shooting you a sly, sideway smile. “$ruppetname, isn’t this a bit sudden?” $rheshe asks You roll your eyes. “I don’t go for blonds. Now, move it.” <<if ($haircolor is "ash blond") or ($haircolor is "golden blond")>> $rname doesn’t answer and instead stares pointedly at your own head of blond hair. You retaliate by grabbing $rhisher arm and dragging $rhimher behind you to the break room. <<else>> $rname clicks $rhisher tongue. “Well, that’s just rude.” You ignore $rhimher and usher $rhimher to the break room. You shut the door and then, just to be cautious, you kick the door wedge into place so no one can interrupt you. <</if>> [[Next|rroute3]]

$rname glances back at you over $rhisher shoulder. “Good morn…” $rupperheshe suddenly trails off and turns to face you directly, $rhisher brow furrowing with concern. “Are you all right, $rpetname?” “Uh, no. Actually. I need to talk to you.” You half-expect $rname to tease you or draw this conversation out needlessly, but instead $rheshe nods sharply. $rupperheshe ushers you toward the empty break room and shuts the door. Then $rheshe kicks over the door wedge to prevent anyone from intruding on your conversation. [[Next|rroute3]]

$rname makes a half-choked noise of surprise and staggers after you. “You know, I usually do dinner first.” You shoot $rhimher a look over your shoulder before ushering $rhimher into the empty break room and closing the door behind you both. You think about it for a moment and then kick the door wedge into place to prevent anyone from intruding. [[Next|rroute3]]

$rname opens $rhisher mouth to say something and then pulls up short. $rupperheshe gives you a long look, as if carefully measuring $rhisher next words. “What happened?” You struggle to find the words for a moment. How are you even supposed to go about this? “I… I had a dream. Or I think it was a dream. I was—well I guess I don’t know where I was—some kind of castle, maybe? I’ve never seen anything like it before…” You trail off as you scrounge for the memories. <<if $kmeeting is "common">> “There was a masquerade party in a garden...” <<elseif $kmeeting is "library">> “There was a library—or a tower that looked like a library. I’ve never seen so many books…” <<else>> “There was a maze—a labyrinth I guess…”<</if>> Once you start, you struggle to stop and you pour out every detail you can think of. For as hazy as your mind felt after waking up, you still remember everything that happened with a strange clarity. You describe the Kestrel and the conversation you had together, including $khisher mention of the Exile. For $rhisher part, $rname just listens. $rupperhisher expression is neutral and thoughtful and $rheshe lets you talk on at length without interruption. When you stop, you expect all kinds of questions from $rname. Instead $rheshe simply asks: “Are you all right?” [[Next|rroute4]]

$rupperhisher concern catches you a little off-guard, mostly because you don’t know how to answer $rhimher. “I’m fine? I guess,” you say with a sigh and a shrug. “It was just… a lot. It felt a little like what you did when we first met.” $rname laughs, though it seems more like a reflex than anything. “You flatter me,” $rheshe says. “My powers are nowhere near comparable to true dreamwalking. I am capable of a hollow imitation at best.” "Dreamwalking?" you ask. “It's old magic—old and rare. And fae,” $rheshe replies. “The name itself waters it down a little. Dreamwalkers are not just capable of spying on your dreams, but they can create dreams from whole cloth, insert themselves, and alter their victim’s perceptions. It's a kind of magic that lends itself to all kind of creative cruelty.” Your stomach sinks. [[But you try to remain calm. It’s not easy, but panicking won’t help.|rroute5][$logic +=1]] ✵ [["But you’re reassured by " + $rnamepos + " knowledge. At least someone knows what’s going on."|rroute5][$intuit +=1]] ❂

“Unfortunately, we don’t know enough to take action,” $rheshe says slowly. “Right now, the best thing we can do is inform the others.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|collective1]]

✤✤✤ The drive is long and quiet, but you’re grateful for it. You’ve been examining and reexamining your encounter with the Kestrel, turning it over again and again in your mind. It would be easy to let yourself believe it was a dream. Maybe that would even be comforting. But you repeatedly come to the same conclusion—it was real. “Are you all right?” You come back to yourself and look over at $rname. $rupperheshe has spent the entire drive shooting you furtive glances, as if trying to decide whether or not $rheshe should say anything. “I’m good,” you say, nodding. $rname seems skeptical. “The wards //will// work,” $rheshe says, though you can’t tell if $rheshe is reassuring you or $rself. “With any luck, we can quickly nip this in the bud.” You sigh. “But what if the Kestrel is right?” “I have little doubt that the Kestrel’s information is correct, because that’s how the Fae work,” $rname replies. “They build trust. Then they turn it against you.” [[Next|rroute23]]

Carter somewhat hesitantly opens the door and upon confirming that you’re dressed, he steps inside and gently shuts it again behind him. “What’s wrong?” you ask as you sit on your bed to put on a clean pair of socks. Carter goes to say something, pauses, bends down to grab a wayward sweater haphazardly forgotten on the floor, and tosses it into your hamper. You can’t help but smile a little to yourself. “You’re such a mom,” you say. “You’re a brat,” he grouses back as he physically stops himself from picking up anything else and leans back against the door. “I need to talk to you about something.” Carter’s got a habit of always sounding pretty serious, so he can be hard for people to read tone-wise. Fortunately, living with him has made you more attune to the nuances and the fact is that Carter’s not //always// serious. His idea of humor is just dry enough to chafe. But there’s always a certain tone he uses when things //get// serious. You’ve heard it while looking for missing persons and once when you were sixteen and found yourself face-to-face with a cougar during one of your camping trips together. And it’s the tone he’s using now. [[Next|zroute23]]

“Do you remember what I said about what MAB would do to you?” he asks. You make a face. “Something about sticking me full of needles?” “Yeah, that,” Carter says with a sigh as he folds his arms. “$zname… you need to be careful around $zhimher. $zupperheshe says that $zheshe hasn’t told MAB anything about you, but I doubt that. And even if $zheshe hasn’t yet, $zheshe will. Without question.” You're not really in the position to question Carter's certainty, though you do wonder if it's really as dire as all of that. “So, why did you let $zhimher get involved?” you ask. “Because I never intended for the two of you to be introduced. $zupperheshe was coming to Herman County---I couldn't stop that. Keeping $zhimher close was the only way to control how much $zheshe found out. Then things happened and whatever my reservations, I trust $zname more than I do whoever was trying to put a hole in my head. Granted, not by much..." He trails off as he rubs a palm over his mouth. “Just don’t get comfortable around $zhimher. Keep your guard up and don’t show off. $zupperheshe doesn't need to know how strong you really are." [[Next|zroute24]]

There’s something else in his tone that makes you frown a little. Worry? Something else? “How //do// you two know each other?” you ask. Carter looks briefly unsettled by the question, but quickly shrugs it off. “$zname was my… well, $zheshe was my apprentice, for the lack of a better word,” he says. “$zupperheshe was a kid at the time. Younger than you, even. And it worked for a little while.” “But then?” “Then it went to hell—as most things with MAB eventually do.” Carter shrugs and then gives you a serious look. “Just be careful. All right?” The request feels heavy. Like he’s trying to say something more without saying it. You can only nod in return. “Okay.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|zroute25]]

[[“Sounds like every teenager I’ve ever met.”|rroutesnark2][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“There could be more to it.”|rroutekind2][$kind +=1]] ♢ "[["Then the sooner you can get rid of " + $khimher + " the better."|rroutegrumpy2][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

$rname answers with a soft scoff. “I doubt the teenagers you’ve known were capable of trapping you in a dream.” [[Next|rroute24]]

$rname sighs. “$ruppetname, you could have theoretically met the kindest fae in all of existence and I would still urge you to be cautious. To the Fae, everything is a weapon---even kindness---and they won’t hesitate to use it against you. [[Next|rroute24]]

$rname simply nods, $rhisher lips pressed together in a thin line. “Agreed.” [[Next|rroute24]]

“It is interesting that they went to such lengths to impress you,” $rname presses on thoughtfully after a lull in the conversation. “Impress me?” you ask. The $rgender clicks $rhisher tongue and glances at you again across the front seat. “What else would you call reconstructing the experience of a real Revel and giving you a castle and <<if $kmeeting is "common">> a moonlit garden to walk in?” <<elseif $kmeeting is "library">>a library to admire?” <<else>> a labyrinth to explore?” <</if>> “Personally? I’d call it annoying,” you reply. “You didn’t enjoy it at all?” $rname scoffs, giving you a frank, doubtful look. "[["Not enough not to punch " + $khimher + " in the mouth the next I see " + $khimher + "."|rroutehis][$khos +=1]]" ✿ [[“Isn’t that a little beside the point?”|rroutedip][$kdip +=1]] 🏵

“I can think the experience was fascinating while also not enjoying the larger implications.” “Fair,” $rname concedes. “Just be careful walking that particular tightrope when it comes to the Fae. They don’t care about nuance.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|rroute25]]

$rname laughs. “Well, I see Carter’s idea of diplomacy has rubbed off on you. But that might be for the best when it comes to the Fae.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|rroute25]]

✤✤✤ From the road, you can tell there aren’t any cars present at the Powells’ and after $rname goes to knock at the door to double check, it becomes clear that you do have the property to yourself. “All right,” $rname says as $rheshe hugs $rhisher coat closer to ward off the biting chill. “Where do you think we should start?” “You’re leaving that up to me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. $rupperheshe shrugs. “It was //your// dream. Although, and I’m sure this needn’t be said, but whatever we do we should be careful. Shades are… temperamental. Your previous encounter should be proof enough of that.” You nod and glance around the property. Nothing’s changed since you were here last, which isn’t a surprise. It's only been a few days, even if so much has happened in the last week that it feels like it’s been months. [[Next|rroute26]]

[[A careful, methodical search to cover the whole farm. You already know you can’t pinpoint a fae with your senses. You’ll just have to rely on your regular senses.|rroutelogic2][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[You know you might have some difficulty finding the fae with your extra senses, but you can look for other irregularities.|rrouteintuit][$intuit +=1]] ❂

You relay this to $rname, who nods and the two of you set off toward the backyard. It hasn’t snowed just yet, which makes the trek across the yard possible without freezing your toes. Behind you, $rname quietly gripes about $rhisher poor boots behind you. You pause in the middle of the backyard and contemplate your options. Whatever the technical details of Casey’s disappearance, you know with certainty that she ended up stuck in the middle of a clash between two opposing magics, which once again puts her at the center of everything. So you should start with her. You glance between the farm’s outbuildings. The old dairy shed and workshop are dilapidated and half-crumbling, but the barn looks sturdy enough to serve as a hideout for a teenager trying to get away from her parents and younger siblings. $rname gives a loud, beleaguered sigh, but you ignore $rhimher and $rheshe follows you without comment. [[Next|rroutelogic22]]

You relay this to $rname, who nods and the two of you set off toward the backyard. It hasn’t snowed just yet, which makes the trek across the yard possible without freezing your toes even though $rname still quietly gripes about $rhisher poor boots. You pause in the middle of the backyard and contemplate your options. Whatever the //technical// details of Casey’s disappearance, you know with certainty that she ended up stuck in the middle of a fight between the fae. That doesn’t seem like something that could happen accidentally. So, maybe Casey knew something more? Maybe she knew that she’d been followed home by the so-called Exile. You push your extra senses outward. You feel the living energy where it coalesces around the house, the warmth of it nearly drowned out by the echoes of panic and grief. You try to push those feelings away and focus instead on the whispers in the yard and driveway, left behind by the family getting into the cars and collecting the mail. There’s also the faint remnants of Casey’s trail disappearing into the woods at the edge of the property… [[Next|rrouteintuit2]]

You edge your way through the gap between the rusted, barn doors with $rname just behind you and you’re immediately greeted by the pungent smell of dust and moldy hay. This prompts $rname to cover $rhisher face with a handkerchief produced from $rhisher pocket and you shoot them a sardonic look. $rupperhisher retort is cut off by the rustle of feathers and you both look up to spot the birds roosting in the rafters. $rname immediately takes a pointed step back toward the barn door and you raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” “I have no particular fondness for the idea of getting bird droppings in my hair. Far be it from me to stop you, though,” $rheshe replies, making shooing gestures with $rhisher hands as if encouraging you to go on. You roll your eyes, but instead of responding you reach out with your senses. You can feel $rname burning brightly right behind you, but nothing else jumps out. There are some residual impressions of Casey’s presence, but nothing else. [[Next|rroutelogic23]]

“Hello?” you call out somewhat tentatively. The shades were capable of speaking and interacting with you. Surely the same applies to the exile? Unless a shade’s intelligence is dependent on how many of them are present? Still, thinking back on yours and $rnamepos encounter with the shades gives you an idea. “//Ell—oll—olleh?” It comes out sounding like a question and you can’t help but wonder how $rname made speaking backwards sound so easy. “Um… //kaeps… ew? Ew… nac? Kaeps ew nac//?” You feel simultaneously stupid and impressed with yourself. $rname thankfully seems to be mostly the latter. “Very good, $rpetname. You learn quick.” [[Next|rroute27]]

Overhead, there’s an old hayloft accessible via a wooden ladder and when you touch the wood you feel the strong echo of Casey’s presence. You look up, squinting into the dark above. And there— A pair of glowing eyes are watching you from the dark before quickly darting out of sight. “Hey!” you shout and you lunge for the ladder. It doesn’t look reliable at all and it would be stupid to use it—so Casey’s definitely a normal teenager in at least that sense—but you don’t see any other way to reach the loft. So you tentatively put one foot on the last rung and test it with your weight. The wood creaks a little in protest, but it holds. Behind you, you hear $rname protest, but ignore $rhimher as you climb up. Your luck persists until you’re almost to the loft. Then your foot goes straight through one of the rungs and your grip falters as your weight is suddenly yanked out from under you. The rung you grab to catch yourself also cracks at the sudden extra weight pulling down on it and you shout in alarm as you feel yourself fall. “No!” the sound is punched out of your lungs as less of a word and more of a panicked exclamation. Then something catches you. [[Next|rroute28]]

You almost give up until—there. You can see an echo of Casey on the back porch. The image overlaps, like it did at her bedroom window, and you follow the trail with your eyes to the barn. Although the Powells’ homestead was clearly once a farm, it obviously no longer serves that function. The out-buildings are old and dilapidated, except for the barn. You approach cautiously and when you edge inside through the gap between the doors you’re greeted by the pungent aroma of moldy hay and dust. Overhead, there are birds nesting in the rafters and they startle at your presence. $rname immediately takes a pointed step back toward the barn door and you raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” [[Next|rrouteintuit23]]

“I have no particular fondness for the idea of getting bird droppings in my hair. Far be it from me to stop you, though,” $rheshe replies, making shooing gestures with $rhisher hands as if encouraging you to go on. You roll your eyes and turn back to your investigation. Casey’s presence here is much stronger, indicating that she’s spent quite a lot of time in the barn. But there isn’t any fear present. It’s happy. Warm. You can hear the echoes of laughter and something underlining them—something that sounds like whispering. [[Next|rroute27]]

For an instant you think maybe it was $rname, but that doesn’t make any sense. You didn’t actually fall. Not that far, anyway. You look up and for a second you’re not quite sure what you’re seeing. A hand has grabbed your arm, but it’s not really a hand. Not a human one anyway. It’s made of shadow and cold like ice. And the eyes you meet are little pinpricks of light set against a swath of darkness shaped vaguely like a human. You’re too shocked to react or speak, even as the shadow’s form stretches in order to gently lower you to the floor. Then it retreats and a second later $rname grabs you by the shoulders. “Are you all right?” $rheshe asks, though $rhisher expression of disbelief easily matches yours. [[“Worried?”|rbold51][$rplay +=1]] ♥ [[You freeze up.|rshy51][$rshy +=1]] ♡ "[["All in one piece. Somehow."|rnosell51][$rnosell +=1]]" ▲

$rnamepos obvious concern catches you a little off-guard as does $rhisher nearness as $rheshe takes your hand to examine your wrist. Your shoulder aches a little from your arm being jerked so hard and your wrist is red where the shade grabbed you, but otherwise you’re unhurt. You feel a spark of something, like a jolt of static, where $rheshe touches you. But you're not sure if that's a result of your powers clashing again or something much more embarassing. Either way, $rname releases your hand and $rhisher eyes return to yours. “Are you all right?” $rheshe asks again. You nod. “Yes?” $rupperheshe offers a wry half-smile. “I’d tease you for sounding confused, but frankly I’m in the same boat.” [[Next|rroute29]]

You try to bring some humor into your tone if only so you can briefly ignore the current weirdness. “Or just worried about Carter?” “Those are not mutually exclusive,” $rname replies easily, though you can tell $rheshe is also just trying to regain $rhisher footing. $rupperhisher expression softens a little as $rheshe searches your eyes. “Are you all right?” You smile a little despite yourself. “I’m fine. Granted, my arm hurts, but I’m way more intrigued by… whatever the hell just happened.” “Same,” $rname agrees with a nod that can’t quite hide $rhisher relief. [[Next|rroute29]]

You pat yourself down as if to double-check and then look up at the loft. “I admit, that wasn’t on my bingo card today." “Mine neither,” $rname agrees. [[Next|rroute29]]

$rname gives your shoulder a nudge. “Don’t thank it. Fae will take that to mean you’re acknowledging a debt that is owed.” “That’s—” “//No//.” You and $rname both jump a little as a third voice joins your argument. It’s familiar and you realize a little belatedly that it’s actually Casey’s voice, which you recognize thanks to the changeling. You and $rname share a look. “What do you mean ‘no’?” $rheshe asks. Casey’s voice answers first, “//No//” followed quickly by $rnamepos voice, “//d e b t//.” You and $rname share another look. The effect is //eerie//. That’s the only correct word for it. But you try to push that aside in favor of what’s actually being said. “That was Casey’s voice,” you say. “How do you know how to mimic Casey’s voice? Have you been watching her?” “Friend.” It’s a new voice. One that isn’t yours or $rnamepos or Casey’s. You catch a flicker of movement from the corner of your eye and follow it to the glowing eyes watching you from the dark. [[Next|rroute31]]

“You and Casey are friends?” you ask. “Friend,” the shade repeats. You glance at $rname, who appears just as perplexed as you are. “Is that a thing?” you ask. $rname shakes $rhisher head in disbelief. “I… suppose it must be? Do you know what happened to Casey?” The shade responds with a soft, melancholy-sounding chirp. “I think that’s a yes,” you say. “Can you tell us what happened?” There’s a long pause and then Casey’s voice: “//No//.” $rname sighs in disappointment. “I think it knows what happened, it just can’t speak enough on its own to give us details,” $rheshe murmurs. $rupperheshe rubs thoughtfully at a spot in the center of $rhisher chest, $rhisher brow furrowed in consternation. “Admittedly, I’m not sure where to go from here.” [[Next|rroute32]]

“I could try to read it,” you volunteer with a shrug. “That might work?” $rname makes a face, as if considering this. “It might,” $rheshe agrees. “But I’d feel better if we went back to the cabin. Carter will want to know what’s going on.” [[ “And he’ll be less likely to kill you if he’s there to supervise?” you ask.|rroutesnark3][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“That’s probably a good idea. I don’t want to worry him.”|rroutekind3][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[“You’re just worried about your own skin, aren’t you?”|rroutegrumpy3][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

$rname nods. “That too.” You sigh and look back at the shade. “Should…. we take it with us then?” “Erebus.” You and $rname both give the shade a skeptical look. “Pardon?” $rname asks, somewhat tentatively. The shade wavers a little and it reminds you of how someone might squirm nervously in place. “//Name//,” Casey’s voice says. “Erebus.” You assume this is something significant. At least, that would be your guess going by $rnamepos dumbfounded reaction. “You… she named you?” $rupperheshe takes a second to process this before nodding. “Well, I suppose it’s fitting enough. Erebus was the Greek god of darkness.” “And if you’re going to name someone after a god, it’s probably a good idea to go with one who didn’t stick it in everything and anything,” you say mildly before addressing the shade. “Will you come with us?” [[Next|rroute33]]

$rname offers a soft scoff of laughter and a sideways look. “I’m much more concerned about myself.” You sigh and look back at the shade. “Should…. we take it with us then?” “Erebus.” You and $rname both give the shade a skeptical look. “Pardon?” $rname asks, somewhat tentatively. The shade wavers a little and it reminds you of how someone might squirm nervously in place. “//Name//,” Casey’s voice says. “Erebus.” You assume this is something significant. At least, that would be your guess going by $rnamepos dumbfounded reaction. “You… she named you?” $rupperheshe takes a second to process this before nodding. “Well, I suppose it’s fitting enough. Erebus was the Greek god of darkness.” “And if you’re going to name someone after a god, it’s probably a good idea to go with one who didn’t stick it in everything and anything,” you say mildly before addressing the shade. “Will you come with us?” [[Next|rroute33]]

“Very much,” $rname replies shamelessly. You sigh and look back at the shade. “Should…. we take it with us then?” “Erebus.” You and $rname both give the shade a skeptical look. “Pardon?” $rname asks, somewhat tentatively. The shade wavers a little and it reminds you of how someone might squirm nervously in place. “//Name//,” Casey’s voice says. “Erebus.” You assume this is something significant. At least, that would be your guess going by $rnamepos dumbfounded reaction. “You… she named you?” $rupperheshe takes a second to process this before nodding. “Well, I suppose it’s fitting enough. Erebus was the Greek god of darkness.” “And if you’re going to name someone after a god, it’s probably a good idea to go with one who didn’t stick it in everything and anything,” you say mildly before addressing the shade. “Will you come with us?” [[Next|rroute33]]

The shade makes a pitchy trilling noise in agreement and slinks closer to you. You’re not quite sure what it’s doing until you watch it melt into a puddle of black mist that collects under your feet and disappears. It produces a strange, cold sensation that you can feel through your shoes, but there’s otherwise no indicator of its presence. $rname gives you an uneasy look, but doesn’t say anything as $rheshe ushers you back to the doors and outside. You’re only a few steps away from the barn when it hits you and the feeling catches you right in the chest as the constant murmur in your periphery turns into a shriek. //Prescience//. At the same time, you //feel// the shade panic. [[Move. Whatever you do, move.|rlogic4][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[You look around, trying to pinpoint the source.|rintuit4][$intuit +=1]] ❂

You break into a sprint, grabbing $rnamepos arm as you pass $rhimher, and dragging $rhimher along behind you. $rupperheshe does an admirable job of staying on $rhisher feet, even without any warning, and follows you. “What’s wrong?” $rheshe asks. You shake your head and focus on the car. When you reach it, you open the driver side door and throw yourself inside across the console and into the passenger seat. $rname quickly follows you and turns the key over in the ignition, making the car roar to life. $rupperheshe brings the car around and you leave rooster tails of dust behind in the Powells’ gravel driveway as $rheshe pulls out onto the road. [[Next|rroute34]]

$rname opens $rhisher mouth to ask you what’s going on, but something in your expression must give you away because $rheshe instead grabs you by the arm and proceeds to drag you to the car at a somewhat clumsy sprint as you try to follow. You throw yourself across the console into the passenger seat and $rname follows you. $rupperheshe turns the engine over and quickly brings the car around, leaving trails of dust behind in the gravel driveway when the car pulls out onto the road. [[Next|rroute34]]

“What was it?” $rname asks. You can tell that $rheshe is trying to sound calm, though you can feel the underlying concern in $rhisher tone. “I don’t know,” you say, shaking your head. You glance back at the rear window. “It scared Erebus too.” Given the look on $rnamepos face, this seems to only confuse the matter further. Still, $rheshe takes a breath and glances at the rearview mirror. “Let’s focus on getting back to the cabin,” $rheshe says. “Try to relax.” You sigh. The anticipatory itch of something coming still shrieks in your ears like nails on a blackboard. “Sure. I’ll try.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|rroute35]]

✤✤✤ Carter and $zname are already waiting on the porch when you and $rname pull into the driveway, as if they had anticipated something might happen. $zname frowns a little at you as you get out of the car, $zhisher eyes narrowing critically. “You have a passenger,” $zheshe says. Carter’s attention immediately turns to $rname. “You were supposed to—” “It’s not $rhisher fault,” you cut him off. “Things are just more complicated than we thought.” The cop looks uneasy at this. “Complicated //how//?” he asks and you can practically see his blood pressure going up. “Well, our so-called exile and Casey were //friends//,” $rname says. “She even named them.” You’re still not quite sure why the name in particular seems to be a sticking point, but $zname and Carter react to it the same way that $rname did with disbelief and surprise. But before you can ask any questions, you’re quickly sidetracked as that same creeping sense of being vulnerable closes in on you again. [[Next|collective3]]

✤✤✤ You admittedly don’t know $zname all that well, but it’s obvious enough to you that $zheshe doesn’t talk much if $zheshe doesn’t have to. $zupperheshe seems to prefer observing and adding to the conversation only if it’s needed. Consequentially, the drive to the Powells' is a very quiet one. Which at least gives you time to think and overthink about what Carter said. A part of you feels guilty. Something about $znamepos presence obviously makes the old man uncomfortable and it feels like you’re actively making it worse by doing this. But at the same time, Carter’s been so vague about it all. It’d be easier to believe that $znamepos presence was putting you in danger if you knew //why// the old man disliked $zhimher so much. Not that he needs to explain himself, but you’d prefer the truth to such vague allusions. Or maybe you wouldn’t. You glance over at $zname. $zupperheshe seems very comfortable behind the wheel. $zupperhisher posture is relaxed and $zhisher grip on the wheel is loose and casual. Despite the danger $zheshe seemed so sure you would be walking in to, $zheshe appears completely at ease. Then, inevitably, your eye is drawn again to $zhisher face—to the silver-gray of $zhisher eyes and $zhisher strong profile. [[Next|zroute26]]

There’s something about $zhisher presence that puts you at ease, though you’re not sure if that’s something inherent to $zname or if it’s the result of your powers. After all, you can’t read $zname. Like Carter, $znamepos presence doesn’t add to the noise that always exists in your periphery. And it’s nice. Peaceful. “How long have you been with MAB?” you ask. $zname spares you only a brief glance before $zhisher attention returns to the road. “As an agent? A little less than a decade. But the bureau took me in when I was still a child.” You raise an eyebrow. “Why?” $znamepos expression doesn’t give anything away at all, but you can tell the question has dented $zhisher armor and whatever wall keeps you from reading $zhimher like you do others, buckles. The window is brief, but it’s enough that you catch a glimpse of pure hate and //rage// bubbling under the surface. An instant later it’s gone. [[Next|zroute27]]

It’s jarring, especially in contrast to the calm serenity $zname always projects and it takes you a second to process it all. “MAB saved me,” $zname says after some delay, as if $zheshe had trouble finding the words. “I was in a bad situation.” You frown. “How old were you?” “Eleven or so.” You nod, but only because you have no idea what else to say. $zname is being vague, but if $zheshe was in such a bad situation that MAB felt the need to interfere, then all of that rage you sensed is probably justified. You chew at your bottom lip. You have so many questions that you’re not even sure where to begin or even if you should. As curious as you are about $zname $zself, this is also the first look into Carter’s past that you’ve ever been afforded. And everything that’s happened in the last week has made you painfully aware of just how little you know. [[Next|zroute28]]

<<if $ktold is "Z">> “You were shaken this morning when you woke up. Are you sure you’re all right?” <<else>> “You seemed shaken by your dream.” <</if>> You sigh. “I don’t know if shaken is the right word. It was just… a lot. I know intellectually that it was a dream. It’s just…” “It felt real?” $zheshe supplies. “Exactly.” $zname lets out a soft, understanding hum, though $zhisher eyes remain fixed on the road. “That is what makes Dreamwalkers so dangerous,” $zheshe says. “They hardly need the ability to alter reality when they can alter one’s perception of it—all without being detected. We’re trained as agents not to engage one if we can help it, but since it’s impossible to identify one by sight alone, that is truly just wishful thinking.” [[Next|zroute29]]

“Have you ever encountered one?” you ask. $zupperheshe shakes $zhisher head. “No. For all of his years of experience, I don’t think even Carter has. Thankfully, they are an exceedingly rare breed.” $zupperheshe glances at you. “I’m afraid of what that means for you. The Dreamwalker did not have to reveal $kself to you and it’s troubling that $kheshe did.” “Same thing with the name thing right?” you ask. “$kupperheshe shouldn’t have done that, right?” “No.” [[Well, I hate that.|zhos1][$khos +=1]] ✿ [[It feels stupid to be grateful for that, but…|zdip1][$kdip +=1]] 🏵

You sigh and sink back in your seat. “And I’m not sure how much comfort there is to be found in the fact that they //could// have done something much worse, but didn’t.” “I understand what you mean, but be careful when speaking of gratitude where it concerns fae,” $zname cautions you. “They may take it as an invitation or as an acknowledgement of a debt to be paid. Or both.” [[Next|zroute30]]

You tip your head back against the headrest of your seat. “I don’t like being played with and I’m hardly going to thank $khimher for not being a bigger jerk.” $zname offers you a wry, half-smile, but shakes $zhisher head. “You shouldn’t thank fae for anything anyway,” $zheshe says. “They’ll think of it as you acknowledging a debt to be paid.” [[Next|zroute30]]

[[“Oh, there’s a shock,” you grumble sourly.|zroute31][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[ “I’m getting the feeling that their definition of polite is different than ours,” you say, making a face.|zroute31][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[ “And it probably doesn’t work in reverse, does it?”|zroute31][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

“Is there a manual for this somewhere?” you ask. “MAB has considered it in the past. But then we realized that they would simply take it as a challenge to twist the wording to their own benefit. And it’s never wise to put anything in writing when it comes to dealing with fae.” $zupperheshe glances over at you again and takes note of the utter exasperation on your face. $zupperheshe smiles a little. “You’ll get the hang of it.” “Yeah, somehow I doubt that.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|zroute32]]

✤✤✤ You haven’t really had any opportunity to work with $zname so far, so it’s strange to watch the change come over $zhimher when you stop in the Powells’ driveway and get out of the car. There’s tension in every inch of $zhisher body and $zhisher eyes carefully sweep every inch of the yard. Nothing has really changed since you visited with Carter. The house is still bursting with the echoes of those who live there, underlined by an unmistakable grief. [[A careful, methodical search to cover the whole farm. You already know you can’t pinpoint a fae with your senses. You’ll just have to rely on your regular senses.|zroutelogic2][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[ You know you might have some difficulty finding the fae with your extra senses, but you can look for other irregularities.|zrouteintuit2][$intuit +=1]] ❂

You relay this to $zname, who nods and the two of you set off toward the backyard. It hasn’t snowed just yet, which makes the trek across the yard possible without freezing your toes. Still, you find yourself gravitating a little closer to $zname to ward off the wind. You pause in the middle of the backyard and contemplate your options. Whatever the technical details of Casey’s disappearance, you know with certainty that she ended up stuck in the middle of a clash between two opposing magics, which once again puts her at the center of everything. So you should start with her. But you’ve already examined her room and found nothing there. If she’s as involved as it seems, then there should be some evidence of it. Somewhere. You look briefly back at the house and then at the farm’s outbuildings. The old dairy shed and workshop are dilapidated and half-crumbling, but the barn looks sturdy enough. If you were a teenager again, it would make a tempting hideout. Especially if you were trying to get away from your parents and younger siblings. $zname follows you without question and when you reach the barndoor $zheshe steps forward to open it. The rusted, old rollers make a hideous shrieking noise as they slide across the rail, but the gap widens enough for you to slip inside. [[Next|zroutelogic21]]

You relay this to $zname, who nods and the two of you set off toward the backyard. It hasn’t snowed just yet, which makes the trek across the yard possible without freezing your toes. If it affects $zname one way or another, $zheshe doesn’t comment. You pause in the middle of the backyard and contemplate your options. Whatever the //technical// details of Casey’s disappearance, you know with certainty that she ended up stuck in the middle of a fight between the fae. That doesn’t seem like something that could happen accidentally. So, maybe Casey knew something more? Maybe she knew that she’d been followed home by the so-called Exile. You push your extra senses outward. You can feel the living energy where it coalesces around the house, the warmth of it nearly drowned out by the echoes of panic and grief. You try to push those feelings away and focus instead on the whispers in the yard and driveway, left behind by the family getting into the cars and collecting the mail. There’s also the faint remnants of Casey’s trail disappearing into the woods at the edge of the property… You almost give up until—there. You can see an echo of Casey on the back porch. The image overlaps, like it did at her bedroom window, and you follow the trail with your eyes to the barn. [[Next|zrouteintuit21]]

Inside, you’re immediately greeted by the pungent smell of dust and moldy hay. Overhead, there’s the disgruntled flapping and hooting of roosted birds, disturbed by your presence. You roll your eyes, but instead of responding you reach out with your senses. You can feel $zname right behind you, but nothing else jumps out. There are some residual impressions of Casey’s presence, but nothing else. “Hello?” you call out somewhat tentatively. The shades were capable of speaking and interacting with you. Surely the same applies to the exile? Unless a shade’s intelligence is dependent on how many of them are present? Thinking back on yours and $rnamepos first encounter with the shades gives you an idea. “//Ell—oll—olleh?” It comes out sounding like a question and you can’t help but wonder how $rname made speaking backwards sound so easy. “Um… //kaeps… ew? Ew… nac? Kaeps ew nac//?” You feel simultaneously stupid and impressed with yourself. $zname seems to be mostly the latter, though $zheshe doesn’t say it out loud. [[Next|zroute33]]

Although the Powells’ homestead was clearly once a farm, it obviously no longer serves that function. The out-buildings are old and dilapidated, except for the barn. You approach cautiously and when you edge inside through the gap between the doors you’re greeted by the pungent aroma of moldy hay and dust. Overhead, there are birds nesting in the rafters and they startle at your presence. $zname is right behind you, $zhisher eyes flickering from you to your surroundings and back. In the barn, Casey’s presence is much stronger, indicating that she’s spent quite a lot of time here. But there isn’t any fear present. It’s happy. Warm. You can hear the echoes of laughter and something underlining them—something that sounds like whispering. [[Next|zroute33]]

Your luck persists until you’re almost to the loft. Then your foot goes straight through one of the rungs and your grip falters as your weight is suddenly yanked out from under you. The rung you grab to catch yourself also cracks at the sudden extra weight pulling down on it and you shout in alarm as you feel yourself fall. It’s not an enormous height, but— Something catches you. For an instant you think maybe it was $zname, but that doesn’t make any sense. You didn’t actually fall. Not that far, anyway. You look up and for a second you’re not quite sure what you’re seeing. A hand has grabbed your arm, but it’s not really a hand. Not a human one anyway. It’s made of shadow and cold like ice. And the eyes you meet are little pinpricks of light set against a swath of darkness shaped vaguely like a human outline. [[Next|zroute35]]

You’re too shocked to react or speak, even as the shadow’s form stretches to lower you to the floor. $zname is already there though and the second $zheshe grabs you, the shade quickly retreats. $zname turns you around by the shoulders, $zhisher eyes flitting over your features and then down to your wrist. Your skin is freezing where the shade touched it, but you’re otherwise unharmed. For a second, you and $zname just stare at each other, as if equally unsure of what to do about what just happened. $zupperheshe snaps out of it first—at least enough to default to: “Are you hurt?” [[You laugh a little with relief. “Uh… no?”|zplay31][$zplay +=2]] ♥ [[This was a bad idea.|zshy31][$zshy +=2]] ♡ "[["I’m good."|znosell3][$znosell +=2]]" ▲

You glance down at yourself, patting your hands down your front as if to make sure all pieces are intact. “Yep. All here. Unless you want to do your own exam?” The way that sounds takes a second for you to register. $zname on the other hand huffs out a soft laugh and looks away, clearly torn between embarrassment and something else that you catch just the tail end of when your eyes meet again. Interest? Want? “That was reckless,” $zname says, $zhisher tone too matter-of-fact to be scolding. You get the feeling that $zheshe just wants to break the silence. “But I found it,” you reply, gesturing at the now broken ladder. You offer a half-smile. “I’m fine. I promise. If Carter asks, I’ll say it was my fault.” $zname shakes $zhisher head, $zhisher expression torn between obvious amusement and disapproval. “I doubt Carter will accept that.” “Carter’s definitely familiar enough with my dumbass tendencies that he will absolutely accept it.” The agent looks more than a little skeptical about this, but doesn’t argue. Instead, $zheshe looks back at the hayloft and you follow $zhisher eyes. Right. You are here for a reason. [[Next|zroute36]]

Not the ladder—well, yes the ladder too—but mostly just //this//. All of it. Especially whatever sense of immortality made you think it was a good idea to spend more time with $zname. Because whatever spark of attraction you feel for $zhimher is a mistake. It’s just hard to remember that in the moment. Because $zhisher nearness, $zhisher concern---it's exciting. You can't even really articulate why, except that you think with the way $zheshe looks at you, $zheshe must feel it too... “$name?” $zname prompts you, $zhisher expression gentle and searching. You snap back to yourself and shake your head. “I’m good,” you say, a little too quickly to sound natural. “I’m… actually I think I have a splinter, but I’m fine.” $zname huffs out a quiet laugh and holds $zhisher hand out to you. You tentatively accept and $zheshe turns your palm over to examine it, rubbing $zhisher thumb over your skin gently as $zheshe searches. “I think all things considered, you’re lucky it’s only a splinter,” $zheshe concludes eventually. “We’ll clean it when we get back. Right now…” You follow $zhisher eyes upward to the hayloft. “Right,” you murmur quietly. “We should probably address the current weirdness.” “Indeed.” [[Next|zroute36]]

You’ve both lost sight of the shade, but you can feel it lingering nearby. More importantly, it isn’t blocking you like the others did. In fact, its presence isn’t like the deafening shriek of the other shades at all. It’s a quiet buzz that’s almost pleasant. Like this shade is operating on an entirely different frequency. “I appreciate you helping me,” you say, though you feel silly. Mostly because you're talking to nothing, but also because this was not what you'd been bracing yourself for in the car. “Could... could you help with something else? We’re looking for Casey.” You can't describe how, but you can feel it when the shade’s attention turns on you at the mention of Casey’s name. “You followed her home, didn’t you?” you ask. A garbled chirp answers you at first and then, after a moment: “//Yes.//” The voice doesn’t come from any particular direction, but you recognize it immediately as Casey’s voice thanks to your encounter with the changeling. Glancing over at $zname, you can see that $zheshe also notices this. [[Next|zroute37]]

You shake your head. “I'm just a little shaken.” $zname seemingly accepts this and $zhisher eyes shift back to the hayloft. “That was…” “Weird?” you supply. “That was weird.” “Very.” [[Next|zroute36]]

“Why?” $zname asks. “What about your collective?” $zupperhisher answer comes in the form of a negative-sounding buzz and you can’t help but laugh a little. You’re echoed a second later by what sounds like a distorted giggle. It’s an eerie sound on its own, but there’s no malice to it. Not like the other shades. “You don’t want to go back?” you ask. “No.” The word is firm and does not mimic yours or $znamepos or Casey’s voices. Then, as if by way of explanation, the shade adds, first in Casey’s voice, “Casey,” followed by yours, “f r i e n d.” “So Casey knew you were here?” you hedge with a frown. “Yes.” [[Next|zroute38]]

You and $zname share a look between you. The agent seems just as confused as you feel. “It isn’t lying,” $zheshe says. It almost comes out as a question. You are very tempted to ask $zhimher how exactly $zheshe knows that, but shake it off. It isn’t important at the moment. “$rname found two types of magic where Casey disappeared,” you say, drawing the words out thoughtfully. “So if the shade didn’t take Casey..." “Then the Seelie did,” $zname finishes, nodding. “They’d do that?” $zname nods. “Yes,” $zheshe says. “Humans tend to project morals onto arbitrary traits. Black and white, night and day, light and darkness—these things don’t have any inherent connection to good and evil besides what value humans assign them. They do the same thing with the Courts. Historically, the Seelie have been seen more favorably, but they have no greater propensity for good and no greater objection to evil than their cousins.” [[“Well, that was in no way comforting. Thanks.”|zroute39][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“That’s good to know I guess—so, I don’t get my hopes up.”|zroute39][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[“So Casey’s probably screwed either way? Great.”|zroute39][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

$zname offers only a tepid half-smile in consolation before $zhisher attention returns to the shade. “It—” “//Erebus//.” The agent frowns at being cut off, $zhisher attention shifting quickly to a flash of movement in the corner of the barn. There you can just make out two pinpricks of light watching you from the dark. “Erebus?” $zname asks. “//Name. Erebus//.” $zname raises $zhisher eyebrows slightly in surprise, though it barely changes $zhisher expression. “Casey named you?” $zheshe asks. “Is that a bad thing?” you ask. “Not necessarily. It’s just…” $zname trails off for a moment before shaking $zhisher head. “It’s something we will have to address later. For now, Casey is our main concern. And loathed as I am to suggest it, we will have to take the shade with us.” You frown. “Why?” Your confusion is echoed by a curious chirp as the shade edges just a little closer. It seems wary of $zname, but it comes close enough to you that you can feel the chill shift in the air. For an instant you think you smell something familiar and nostalgic, though you can’t place it. [[Next|zroute40]]

“Our new friend doesn’t seem capable of speaking in full sentences,” $zname replies. “But we need answers. $rname may have a solution for us, but we cannot return here without drawing suspicion. Besides, the sooner it is done, the better Casey's chances of survival." You hum in understanding, but you can’t ignore the doubt you feel niggling at you. “Are you even sure she’s still alive?” you ask. “I’m afraid certainty is impossible,” the agent admits, shaking $zhisher head. “But the Seelie would not have taken her alive if her being alive was not important for their purposes.” "Important how?" "I don't know," $zname says. He glances at the shade. "But I suspect it has something to do with our new friend." You look at Erebus. There are probably no ‘safe’ assumptions where it regards the fae, but it’s at least a //reasonable// one. And even if it's foolish at this point, you'd like to believe Casey might still be alive. “Well, would you like to come with us?” you ask the shade. [[Next|zroute41]]

The shade makes a pitchy trilling noise in agreement and slinks closer to you. $zname shifts a little closer as well, but doesn't move to interfere as you both watch—you in fascination and $zname with obvious wariness— as the shade melts into a puddle of black mist that collects under your feet and disappears. It produces a strange, cold sensation that you can feel through your shoes, but there’s otherwise no indicator of its presence. $zname gives you an uncomfortable look. “Are you alright?” You glance down at your shoes. “I think so? It’s cold, but…” You finish with a shrug, not sure what else there is to say. Thankfully, that seems to be enough for $zname. $zupperheshe nods at you and then gestures back to the barn doors. “We should get back to the others as quickly as we can.” You nod and follow $zname out of the barn into the open air. The chill is bracing, but before you can even acclimate to it, a sharp pang catches you right in the chest. The constant murmur in your periphery turns into a shriek. At the same time, you //feel// the shade panic. [[Move.|zlogic41][$logic +=1]] ✵ [[Try to find the source.|zintuit41][$intuit +=1]] ❂

Normally, you would try to think your way through the feeling, but the memory of the other night is still sharp in your mind. So you react instead. “Move!” you bark at $zname before breaking into a sprint. It’s a credit to $zhimher that $zheshe immediately obeys. $zupperheshe stays close, shielding you with $zhisher body as you go, until you reach the car. $zname opens the door and you dive across the front console into the passenger seat. $znamepos movements as $zheshe puts the key in the ignition and starts the car are quick and fluid, without any of the nervous fumbling someone else might struggle with. $zupperheshe turns the car around easily and kicks up some dust in the driveway when you pull out onto the road. [[Next|zroute42]]

Going with the flow of your powers means being more in tune to where they begin and you can almost follow the pitchy shriek of this premonition into the woods, where it originates. But there isn’t anything there. You can’t feel anything with your extra senses except the cloying, clawing need to escape. To $zhisher credit, $zname takes one look at you, seems to sense your distress, and immediately grabs you by the hand. $zupperheshe pulls you closer to put an arm around your waist and then hurries you to the car. You scramble into the passenger seat, still trying to place the feeling when $zname backs the car up into the road and takes off. [[Next|zroute42]]

“What was it?” $zname asks, once you've put a little distance between yourselves and the Powells'. You shake your head. The feeling hasn’t gone away. There’s still a pinch of anticipation between your shoulders and your ears are ringing. “I don’t know.” You never do. Not until after the fact, when the danger has passed. So this lingering anxiety doesn’t bode well. You're half-tempted to blame the shade, but when you glance down at the floorboards and the misty shadows churning agitatedly around your feet, you can tell it’s only reacting to you. $zname shoots you a brief, concerned look before $zhisher attention returns to the road. “We'll worry about it after we regroup with Carter and $rname at the cabin." You realize immediately that $zheshe is trying to comfort you and you appreciate it. It just doesn’t do anything to ease your nerves. ✤✤✤ [[Next|zroute43]]

✤✤✤ You’re not sure who spots you first, but by time you’re getting out of the car, Carter and $rname are on the porch to greet you. Carter gives you a quick once-over, his eyes narrowing a little as they settle on your feet. “Something’s attached to you,” he notes. You can hear him trying to keep his tone neutral, even as his eyes narrow at $zname. “It’s not $zhisher fault,” you say. “There was… things got weird.” “Weird in what way that justifies bringing one of those things here?” $rname asks, $rhisher nose curling in distaste. “The girl was taken by one of the Seelie,” $zname replies. “She and the shade were friends. She //named// it.” You’re not quite sure why that’s such a sticking point, but the look that passes between $rname, Carter, and $zname is pretty telling. Still, your focus is quickly elsewhere. [[Next|collective3]]

It’s late. Or you think it is. There isn’t a clock in the guest room and while it feels like Carter left hours ago, you can’t be sure. Regardless, you’ve been alone, staring at the ceiling, and willing for sleep to come. $rnamepos apartment is still weirdly sterile and silent to you, but it’s not quite as nerve-racking this time around. Maybe you’re getting used to people shooting at you—a cause for concern on its own—or maybe you’re just too preoccupied with literally everything else. Regarding the disappearance of Casey Powell, you have your answer. In part at least. Granted, you don’t have Casey or even very many details, but you know the //who//. More importantly, the fae’s words seemed to indicate the girl was still alive. Unless that was just the fae being fae. And however refreshingly direct the fae had been, you’re beginning to understand the others’ wariness when it comes to dealing with “the Courts”. You start a little at the quiet warble that suddenly breaks the silence and you sit up in time to see a shadow moving in the dark. “Done exploring?” you ask. [[Next|7.2]]

Erebus warbles again and appears on the wall opposite of the door, which is open just enough to let the light in from the hallway. It takes the shape of a human, gangly, stoop-shouldered and crouching, but recognizable. Almost teenager-like. As curious as it seems, you can also feel the melancholy radiating off the creature. While it had been afraid of the Seelie before, now it just seems… sad. And if it and Casey really were friends, you guess that makes sense. You don’t blame it for trying to distract itself by looking around the apartment. You recline back against the headboard behind you, frowning. “You can’t tell me what happened to Casey, can you?” you ask. A chitter and then, “Can’t.” “Because you don’t know or because you don’t have the words?” “Words.” [[Next|7.3]]

You nod to yourself, letting out a long breath as you consider this. Well, that confirms that at least. “I can try to read you—later, when the others are here,” you say. [[“... It might help. Or not. Who knows?”|7.4][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“It could help us find Casey. If that’s okay with you.”|7.4][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[“It’ll suck. Probably for both of us. But it could help.”|7.4][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

You can’t sound certain because you’re not. In reality, there’s probably nothing you can do to //make// the fae give Casey back. But where it concerns fae, information seems vitally important. If nothing else, it’ll fill in the gaps. Hopefully. Still, Erebus gives an understanding-sounding chirp. You nod and lay back in bed again with a sigh. You’re just as wide awake as you were before, but with Erebus’ presence the stillness of the apartment isn’t quite as oppressive. Which is something, at least. And eventually, you drift off. ✤✤✤ [[Next|7.5]]

✤✤✤ This time, you know it’s a dream. From the second you open your eyes, you can feel the seams of the dream, where it ends and begins, where something else is pressing up against your psyche. Which does very little to take away from the beauty of the dream itself. You’re standing in the middle of a path that cuts through a dark, misty wood. Heavy, ivy curtains hang from the tree boughs and tiny, glowing motes float in the foggy air like fireflies. The blue-green grass is velvety soft under your feet and small clusters of biofluorescent mushrooms grow at the base of the trees and along the edges of the path. Overhead, the moon is heavy and full and bright enough to light your way. You feel drawn forward, though it’s not the insistent pull you experienced previously. It’s a nudge. Remembering your previous encounter with the Kestrel, you’re tempted to find a spot and sit down—to make $khimher come to you. But you can’t deny your curiosity. Why so soon? Why now? [[Next|7.6]]

You start down the path, your pace unhurried. There was so much you didn’t get to explore last time and not having a choice in the matter somewhat spoiled the memory in retrospect. In fact, it feels strange that you have such free reign now. The illusion of it anyway. You really won’t know how much control you have over things until you try to break the dream. But at least you //know// where you are. The path takes a lazy, meandering path between the trees as the night wind carries the scent of wild flowers to you. It’s picturesque, if nothing else. You’re not quite sure if there’s a point to it all or if the Kestrel simply enjoys showing off. You may be biased, but the latter seems most likely. [[You want to keep a level head about things.|7dip1][$kdip +=1]] 🏵 [[You want to punch them.|7hos1][$khos +=1]] ✿

While you don’t doubt what Carter and the others have said about the fae, the Kestrel //was// right. Which means that $kheshe can be useful—even if $kheshe doesn't intend to be. [[Next|7.9]]

Granted, you know that you shouldn’t and you probably won’t—probably—but the temptation is powerful. [[Next|7.9]]

The path eventually grows narrow and less well-traveled, until it’s barely distinguishable from the rest of the forest floor. So it’s fortunate when you find yourself suddenly at the edge of a shallow pond. Glowing lotuses float on the surface, which ripples with iridescent colors. And sitting at the edge of the water, with $khisher back to a gnarled, petrified stump, is the Kestrel. While just as gorgeous as before, $khisher current appearance is in stark contrast to how $kheshe presented $kself at the Revel. There, $kheshe had been meticulously well-groomed and refined. Now, there’s something wilder and feral about $khimher. $kupperhisher hair is down and messy and $khisher fine robes from the party are gone, leaving <<if $kgender is "man">> his chest bare, revealing nipple piercings and tattoos that scroll across his shoulders. <<else>> her in just a plain, white shirt unbuttoned nearly to her navel, with material thin enough for you to make out the outline of nipple rings and the shadows of tattoos that scroll across her shoulders.<</if>> $kupperhisher trousers are tattered around the hems and reach just below $khisher knees and $khisher feet are bare. Without shoes or gloves, you can see how $khisher palms and feet are blackened in appearance, the color tapering off as it moves up $khisher ankles and forearms. It’s ink, you realize, and there are negative spaces in the uniform black that form curving sigils and runes. [[Next|7.10]]

“No party this time?” you ask as you draw closer. The Kestrel smirks a little, flashing you a glimpse of sharpened teeth, though $kheshe doesn't look at you yet. “No. I wanted to have you all to myself.” [[“Well, yay for me.”|7.11][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“That’s… actually, I’m not sure what that is.”|7.11][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[“I hope you’re prepared for disappointment.”|7.11][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

You take a deep breath and look out at the water. It’s tempting to ask the Kestrel directly what it is $kheshe wants, but you get the feeling that direct questions will just seem like a game to $khimher. So you alter course. “You were right about the Exile.” “Of course I was,” the Kestrel replies. $rupperheshe stands, moving with a fluid, hypnotic grace, and approaches you. There’s a sharp look in $rhisher eyes. “Do I get a thank you?” You hold $khisher eyes pointedly. “No.” You half-expect the Kestrel to feign disappointment at this, but instead $kheshe looks pleased as $kheshe grins. “Good, you’re learning,” $kheshe says. “And you’ve met Wolf—your first Seelie. How did you find our cousin?” "[[The family resemblence was uncanny.|7snark2][$snark +=1]]" ♤ "[[No comment.|7kind2][$kind +=1]]" ♢ "[[They were prettier than you.|7grumpy2][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

The Kestrel laughs, though there’s something about it that rings hollow—a touch of genuine offense. You don’t even bother hiding your satisfied smile. [[Next|7.12]]

Despite your refusal to engage, the Kestrel still smirks at you, as if amused. [[Next|7.12]]

The Kestrel laughs, though there’s something about it that rings hollow—a touch of genuine offense. You don’t even bother hiding your satisfied smile. [[Next|7.12]]

You start to walk, hoping to put just a little breathing room between the two of you. And the Kestrel seems willing to humor you. Even though $kheshe follows you, $kheshe lets you keep your distance. “I assume there’s a reason for this visit,” you say. "Still, two nights in a row? Seems kind of clingy to me." As much as you want to admire the scenery around you, you’re determined not to let your guard down. The Kestrel hums. “What if I simply yearned to see you again?” [[“That’s flattering, and as much as I could say the same, we both know there’s a bigger game being played here.”|7kplay1][$kplay +=1]] ♥ [[You’re intrigued. You shouldn’t be. But it's there.|7kshy1][$kshy +=1]] ♡ [[“Then this meeting is over.”|7knosell1][$knosell +=1]] ▲

From everything that $rname, $zname, and Carter have said about the fae, you know that you’re in danger. The Kestrel has made no secret of $khisher power and you are undoubtedly playing with fire. But you can’t resist. Whether it’s a matter of appearances alone or if the Kestrel’s dark charm has won you over, you don’t want to keep your distance. It’s foolish. That’s not even a matter that’s up for debate. But still you can’t resist. You don’t want to. The Kestrel seems to know this too and grins wide. “And you don’t wish to play?” $kheshe asks. “Only when I have a choice.” “Oh, Sparrow,” $kheshe tuts, $khisher voice dropping into a husky purr. “I promise to make it very worthwhile.” You smile back with some saccharine bite. “Pass.” [[Next|7.13]]

You’re intrigued and you know you shouldn’t be. You’re sure that’s part of it all—part of the trick. There are probably countless people who walked straight into this trap with their eyes wide open, thinking they couldn’t be fooled because they’d see it coming. Only to then get their head ripped off by some insufferably beautiful immortal. And you wonder if being aware of it will save you or damn you. Maybe knowing it’s there is what sets the snare to begin with. “You think too much.” You jump at the feeling of the Kestrel’s breath on the back of your neck, startled because you didn’t even hear $khimher move. But you suppose you wouldn't give the Seelie's earlier display of simply materializing out of no where. And that when you were //awake//. You’re tempted to turn around, but stop yourself. You can’t be sure if the Kestrel means to use $khisher closeness to threaten or tempt you, but it doesn’t really matter. You don’t intend to give in. Turning around feels like giving $khimher the attention $kheshe clearly craves and denying $khimher that is a means of exerting //some// power where you otherwise have none. “Does that make your job harder?” you ask. You don’t mean it as a jab, even though you know it sounds that way. “In a way,” the Kestrel replies, with what you suspect is an inordinate amount of honesty. Which may also be meant to throw you off. “But the challenge is thrilling, Sparrow.” “Then you shouldn’t mind if I continue thinking too much.” [[Next|7.13]]

The Kestrel clicks $khisher tongue in what seems to be genuine disappointment, though you can’t tell which part bothers $khimher more: your refusal to play along or the fact that $khisher presence doesn’t have any apparent effect on you. Both, maybe. You don’t care. “Do you have something to say or not?” [[Next|7.13]]

The Kestrel doesn't answer you immediately. Instead, $kheshe lets the conversation lull for a little while pretending to be very interested in the scenery. Then: “Wolf was foolish.” It feels like the Kestrel waited to speak to seem less like $kheshe was answering you and more like $kheshe was simply offering information. “How so?” you ask, looking at the fae. $kupperheshe has started pacing the shore of the pond, like a caged animal, though you can tell it isn’t a sign of anxiety. It’s boredom. The fae scoffs. “They attacked you in front of Balor. I can think of few things more reckless than that.” You perk a little at that, unable to rein in your curiosity. The Kestrel catches your eye and tips $khisher head. “Have you never heard that name?” “Not until the Seelie said something,” you say, folding your arms. “What does it mean? Carter said it was just a title. I don’t think he wanted to talk about it.” [[Next|7.14]]

The Kestrel grins, seemingly amused by this, but doesn’t explain why. Instead, the fae replies, “It is an ancient title inspired by an ancient enemy to the fae. Balor was correct---it is a title. And I have told you that there is power in taking names, so it is especially significant for the Courts to //give// one.” It’s a good point that hadn’t yet occurred to you. But it makes sense. If taking names gives the fae power over others, then bestowing one must also have an effect. The Kestrel must see the question forming in your expression, because $kheshe answers without prompting: “for the Courts to name another, it is an admission of the power they do not have over them. It’s a sign of respect. A dangerous one.” “Dangerous how?” you ask. “The Courts have many enemies. Anyone wishing to prove themselves a threat to the fae might be sorely tempted to challenge someone the Courts so openly respect. Like many gifts of the Courts, it is a double-edged sword,” the Kestrel replies. “But make no mistake, Sparrow. If you now live in peace, that peace was bought with blood.” [[Next|7.15]]

The words settle heavy in your gut. And you hate that. Rationally, you shouldn’t take anything the Kestrel says at face value, because there is almost certainly something else in the works here. But at the same time… it makes sense. Growing up, you never really gave Carter’s career much thought. You knew he was technically “retired” from his previous career, but he’d only ever described himself as having “worked for the government”. Then as you got older, you realized it was a subject that made Carter uncomfortable. So you didn’t pry. But even if you stretch things and say that Carter’s been lying to you for the last ten years, does it matter if he only lied to protect you? And would he have lied at all if you’d told him you wanted to know more about the supernatural? “You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” you say, eventually. “I come with answers.” You turn to look at the Kestrel directly, your lip curling automatically in distaste. “And what would you want in return?” The Kestrel gives you a look that is equal parts smug and condescending. “You catch on quickly,” $kheshe praises you. “Fortunately for you, I am not difficult to please. This time, I ask only for a small token in trade." "Like what?" "Well, traditionally the offer is a memory, a secret… or a kiss.” [[Next|7.16]]

You raise an eyebrow. “And I have a choice?” “You do.” It feels like too honest an offer. Too simple. “What kind of answers? The kind you could just //give// me?” “Nothing is free, Sparrow. It's best you learn that now as there are few so merciful as me,” the Kestrel says. “As for “what”, you may ask anything and I will tell you what I know. In a situation such as yours, you can hardly turn down such an offer, can you? And for so little—I am being truly generous.” $kupperhisher tone makes it tempting to say ‘no’ merely on principle, but… You chew your lip. While the others seem experienced with the fae—especially Carter—you’re still doing a lot of guesswork with regards to specifics. Specifics you'll probably //need// to get Casey back. Besides, maybe it’d be smart to humor the Kestrel just this once. $kupperheshe isn’t asking for much, all things considered, and it’d be wise to test the boundaries of $khisher knowledge. Especially since it’s obvious to you now—with the mention of Wolf—that the Kestrel has been watching you. For how long? And //why//? You’ve only just been introduced to the supernatural. What could you have done to draw the Kestrel’s attention if there was not something more at work? [[Next|7.17]]

More importantly, does it have to do with the people trying to kill Carter? It’s obvious that this is the Kestrel’s attempt to breadcrumb you. It’s a benign deal that largely favors you and you’d be stupid to think this wasn’t all a part of the game. But letting the Kestrel //think// you’re willing to be manipulated might be for the best. [[Next|7choices1]]

“If I choose a memory, what will happen?” you ask. “Do you take it? Would I forget?” The Kestrel nods. "Yes." It’s telling that $kheshe offers you no more information than that. You suspect that $khisher directness is a sign of how serious things have gotten. “What if it’s a memory I want to forget? Doesn’t that benefit me too?” “That depends,” the fae replies. “Is this your choice? Your memories make you. By the same token, forgetting can unmake you—a truth you already know all too well." <<link [["Yes. I'll give you a memory."|7mem2]]>>[\<<set $trade1 to "memory">>]<</link>> [["No. Let me rethink this."|7choices1]]

“You want a secret?” you ask. The Kestrel nods. With $khisher back to the moon, $khisher face is in shadow, but you can still see how $kheshe is smiling at you. “Specifically, I want one of //your// secrets. You cannot barter with someone else’s secrets.” “Two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead,” you say, automatically. “That’s what Carter says, anyway.” “An unsurprising opinion, given the source. And usually true,” the Kestrel replies with an approving nod. “So is your answer ‘no’?” You narrow your eyes. It’s tempting to ask $khimher what $kheshe considers a secret, but you stop yourself. The only thing $kheshe specified was that it had to be //your// secret. Was that an oversight? Or intentional? And why? The others made it clear that the fae don’t typically act out of altruism, so what could be the motive? Is it some kind of trap you can’t see? More importantly, is it wise to go ahead despite these doubts? <<link [["Yes. I'll tell you a secret."|7secret2]]>>[\<<set $trade1 to "secret">>]<</link>> [["No, let me rethink this."|7choices1]]

In what will probably become a pattern as you deal with the Kestrel, you know that this not something you should even be considering. At all. It’s stupid and almost certainly more dangerous than a secret or a memory. Maybe. But trading in memories and secrets seems likely to have much more far-reaching implications than something as temporary as a kiss. Because while the kiss will end, it's something temporary and physical. Memories and secrets //aren't//. And this //is// a dream. So does it even matter? “And if I choose to trade a kiss?” you ask. “That’s it? It’s //only// a kiss?” The Kestrel’s expression doesn’t change, though $khisher eyes practically light up with interest. “It needn’t be,” $kheshe says, $khisher tone low and sultry. “... But if that is all you wish to offer, then yes. Is this your choice?” <<link [["Yes. I'll trade you a kiss."|7kiss2]]>>[\<<set $trade1 to "kiss">>]<</link>> [["No. Let me rethink."|7choices1]]

You’re not sure what you expect, but it feels like you blink and then you’re just staring at the Kestrel, whose thumb is suddenly, gently rubbing your temple. It feels like only a second has passed, but $kheshe is so much closer than before. How…? “There,” the fae murmurs. $kupperheshe sounds satisfied, which confuses you even further. There what? Did it… did it already happen? That fast? You stomach sinks. “You didn’t let me choose?” You’re not sure why you sound so betrayed. The Kestrel never explicitly made the offer to let you choose. You should have been more careful. More thoughtful. But then the Kestrel grins. “But, Sparrow, you did.” You blink again. You did? “That’s… I—I don’t remember….” “You don’t remember the memory you chose to forget?” $kheshe asks, $khisher voice soothing while at the same time it’s clear $kheshe is mocking you. Can you trust that? That the choice was yours and you just can’t remember it? If the Kestrel notices or cares about your distress, $kheshe says nothing. Instead, $kheshe smiles and steps back, away from you. “As for our trade,” $kheshe begins. “Ask." [[Next|7.18]]

[["A memory?"|7mem1]] [["A secret?"|7secret1]] [["... a kiss?"|7kiss1]]

You take a breath, trying to reorient yourself in the moment. The trade is past. There’s no point in fretting over the details of it any more. Now, you need to pay attention to what you traded //for//. “What do you know about the people who were trying to hurt Carter? Someone tried to kill him.” “A not altogether unusual experience for one with his past, I imagine,” the Kestrel replies mildly. Then $kheshe shrugs. “But the fae had nothing to do with it.” For some reason, you believe $khimher. “I suppose it was a stupid idea—I doubt the Courts would use a human weapon like a rifle.” “No, we wouldn’t,” the Kestrel agrees. “Truthfully, I admire Balor. I would gladly give you information if I had any to offer.” It’s a surprising bit of honesty coming from the Kestrel and you doubt its sincerity, but shake your head to dismiss it. There’s no point in needless speculation. You’re quiet as you think this over, only for your concentration to be broken by the Kestrel. “Your witch is playing a dangerous game to ask for parley.” “Witch—? Oh,you mean $rname? Dangerous how?” you ask. [[Next|7.19]]

The Kestrel nods and waves $khisher hand as if to beckon your answer. You take a breath and then answer: “I’m a psychic.” It’s a gamble. And the Kestrel seems to have anticipated it to some degree, because $kheshe doesn’t look at all surprised. Instead, $kheshe seems amused. “That is not a secret at all to me,” $kheshe says. $kupperhisher tone is light and lilting but there’s a hidden edge to it too. An admonishment, almost. It feels like another push—another attempt to make you renege by intimidating you. But: “you said it had to be specifically //my// secret. And whether you meant that as a secret belonging to me or as something that defines me, it doesn’t matter. It’s both. Your prior knowledge doesn’t change that.” For a moment, the Kestrel doesn’t answer and it feels like $khisher icy eyes burn straight through you. But it’s too late to back down. [[Next|7secret3]]

The Kestrel hums thoughtfully, $khisher head tipped to the side curiously. “What if a secret ceases to be a secret the moment it’s spoken aloud?” $kheshe asks, $khisher eyes never wavering from yours. You narrow your eyes. “What do you mean?” “I mean what I said,” $kheshe replies. “What if in speaking of your secret out loud it ceases to be a secret?” //It ceases to be a secret.// As in what? As in… it’s no longer a secret to //anyone//? Your stomach sinks. Is that possible? Is the Kestrel strong enough to //do// that? How? And if $kheshe is, on what scale? Surely not //everyone// //everywhere// just suddenly knows you’re psychic? Another moment passes and then another. Then, the Kestrel smirks. It’s a mocking and joyless expression. “Next time you wish to play games, be certain they are games you can win,” $kheshe says. You can barely swallow back your panic. “Does that—?” “Your secret is safe, as you are correct. You fulfilled my requirements,” the fae replies dismissively. “As for our trade, ask your questions.” [[Next|7.18]]

The word is barely out of your mouth and your stomach swoops, though you don’t know if it’s excitement or dread. And you half-expect the Kestrel to immediately crowd your personal space, but instead $kheshe flashes you a fang-filled smile and approaches slowly. And maybe that’s for your benefit. Maybe $kheshe is giving you a chance to reconsider. But given everything you’ve been told about the fae, it seems more likely that $kheshe is playing chicken and daring you to back down. The unspoken challenge bolsters your resolve, so you manage to hold in your reaction when $kheshe is finally close enough that you feel the cold emanating from $khisher bare skin as $khisher gaze sears itself in your mind. “You and I are so much alike, Sparrow,” the Kestrel says. $kupperheshe reaches out and drags $khisher blackened fingertips over your cheek. You expect $khisher long nails to sting, but instead the touch is so gentle it’s barely-there. Almost ticklish. “There’s so little point in resisting temptation.” “I’m not trading a kiss for your commentary,” you reply dryly, proud that you manage to keep your voice steady and flat. [[Next|7kiss3]]

The fae just grins and $khisher fingers move to your chin, directing your gaze to $khishers as $kheshe leans in closer. You try to turn your head at the last second to kiss $khisher cheek, but the Kestrel seems to have anticipated this and stops you, $khisher grip becoming firm to keep you in place. And for a second, you can feel $khisher cold breath on your lips, until it moves to your cheek and neck as $kheshe dips $khisher head to whisper into your ear. “And I am not trading information for a mere formality. But I will delay payment. There are //some// things that are so much sweeter in the flesh.” Oh. <b> //Oh//. </b> Bartering in dreams and memories gives away an intangible piece of yourself, sure, but //this//—this was an //invitation//. Trading with a memory or a secret would have ended the transaction right then and there. Sure, the Kestrel could have delayed accepting those things too, but there wouldn't really be a reason. Whereas clearly the Kestrel agrees—a kiss in your dreams //isn't// a kiss. You want to argue, but the Kestrel steps away before you can. “As for our trade,” $kheshe begins, with a triumphant smirk still pulling at $khisher lips. “Ask your questions.” [[Next|7.18]]

“Dangerous in the same way all interactions with the Courts are,” the Kestrel replies. “While I’m impressed that the witch had the nerve to ask for such a thing, it won’t do you any good. The Morning Court will not return the girl to you if you do not give them the Exile.” You were afraid of that. “Why do they want the Exile so badly?” you ask. “Wolf—the Seelie you met. They called it an aberration. That is all the reason they need,” the Kestrel says with an indifferent shrug. “The Courts despise change and thus they despise the new.” “But //why//?” You follow the fae with your eyes as $kheshe returns to $khisher spot beside the pond and sits down upon the stump. When $kheshe beckons you to join $khimher, you answer with a shake of your head and repeat, “//Why//?” The Kestrel sighs, as if put-out, but responds, “Fae do not change. We do not age, we do not die, we do not //change//. That is the very core of what we are. So when change does happen—rare as it is—it is an abomination.” "[[Isn't that kind of pathetic? That you let the Seelie decide that kind of thing for you?|7.20][$snark +=1]]" ♤ "[[And the Unseelie don't care that the Seelie do this?|7.20][$kind +=1]]" ♢ "[[So... you're the Seelie's bitches?|7.20][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

The Kestrel merely looks annoyed and rolls $khisher eyes. “Sparrow, the Court of Shadows is no haven for misfits. If the Seelie did not hunt the Exile, then we would. But if they are glad to do it, we will not bother ourselves with such tedium,” the fae replies dismissively. “How do you think Wolf found the Exile if not through the creature’s collective?” “Seelie and Unseelie cooperate?” you ask. “I thought you were enemies.” “We are, until we find something we despise more than each other.” The fae shrugs as $kheshe sits down on the stump $kheshe had been leaning against before. “You have few choices here.” You shake your head. “There has to be some other way to do this,” you protest. “The Seelie can’t be //that// hung up on a stupid grudge.” “Sparrow, the Courts have nursed petty grudges that are older than the first steps of man,” the Kestrel says with a flat tone and a bored look. “So, yes. They can. And while to you this may seem like something petty, to the Courts it is a violation of what we are at our core.” “So that’s it? There’s nothing we can leverage against them?” You try not to sound as defeated as you feel. But you can’t help it. It’s not that you know Erebus all that well, but it feels wrong to talk of bartering one life over another. [[Next|7.21]]

The Kestrel hums, $khisher expression still bored and indifferent as $khisher gaze turns to the pond. You follow it and on the other shore you can see the warm glow of lights bobbing just beyond the treeline. If this were not a dream, you might think they were people carrying lanterns. “In the past, you could have leveraged one court against another,” the Kestrel says after some delay. “Our rivalry is such that the Unseelie and the Seelie often oppose each other merely on principle—regardless of the actual facts of the matter. Someone at odds with one of the courts could seek out the other for assistance. It did not always work, but those who are best equipped to meddle with the fae are fae themselves.” "[[So, humans used your rivalry against you and you were cool with that?|7snark3][$snark +=1]]" ♤ "[[Doesn't that just make things worse between the Courts?|7kind3][$kind +=1]]" ♧ "[[It seems pretty stupid to trust the fae to argue for your sake.|7grumpy3][$grumpy +=1]]" ♢

The fae shrugs indifferently. “They were not tricking us. We were well aware of the system at play and while we had no investment in the matters at hand, it was an opportunity to quarrel with our cousins in another arena. But that does not matter now as it is not an option.” [[Next|7.22]]

The Kestrel laughs and flashes you an almost genuine-seeming smile. “We were not lambs being taken advantage of,” $kheshe admonishes you, though $khisher tone is rather gentle. “If anything, parleys are only accepted because they provide entertainment—not because we look upon human affairs with altruism. But none of that matters now as it is not an option.” [[Next|7.22]]

“Then you see the situation with refreshing clarity,” the Kestrel says. “Because we did not. It was simply another opportunity to skirmish with our cousins in another arena. An amusement. But that does not matter now as it is not an option.” [[Next|7.22]]

“Why…?” Your words trail off as you remember something the Seelie—Wolf—said. “That fae mentioned something about the Shadow King not attending. Is that what you’re talking about? Why it's not an option?” The Kestrel simply nods. “The Shadow King has not attended to court matters for some time. Since none can stand in for him, none will. If you are to parley, you will be dealing with the Seelie alone.” “And the Seelie aren’t going to side against the Seelie,” you sigh. Your heart sinks a little. “Your judicial system sucks.” The Kestrel barks out a laugh, seeming genuinely amused for once, but $kheshe offers you nothing more. You rub your neck tiredly as you think it over. “How long has it been since the Shadow King attended court?” “Almost fifty years,” your companion replies and at your surprised look, $kheshe quickly adds, “While that might seem like a long time for a human, remember that we do not perceive the passage of years as you do.” You nod. Right. For a human fifty years might be half a lifetime, but to a race of immortals? It was probably barely worth noting on the calendar. “But isn’t that unusual? To just not attend like that?” “No. It’s been done many times before depending on whim and want. Even if attendance were compulsory, there would be no incentive to enforce such a rule. Without the Shadow King to oppose them, the Morning Court may do as it pleases without retaliation. But…” [[Next|7.23]]

You look over at the Kestrel, frowning as $kheshe trails off. “But what?” A grin slowly unfurls across the Kestrel’s lips and $kheshe gets up again and approaches you. $kupperhisher steps are calculated and slow and $kheshe reminds you of a big cat stalking prey. “How desperate are you to save the girl?” $kheshe asks as $kheshe draws nearer. “What would you trade?” You fold your arms and focus on holding $khisher stare. “We’ve already done a trade.” “Yes, but that was a trade for information only.” The Kestrel reaches out to you and traces a line down your cheek to your neck with one finger. $kupperhisher skin is freezing to the touch and it makes you shiver, despite your best attempts not to. Even so, you don’t look away. And $kheshe grins. “What if I could help you retrieve the girl?” “I’d say that ‘help’ is uselessly ambiguous as far as an offer goes,” you reply. The Kestrel’s grin merely widens. “I suppose you will just have to trust me.” You clench your jaw. It feels a little like you’ve painted yourself into this corner and you hate it that you’re only realizing it now. Because while you asked all of the right questions, the Kestrel damn well //knew// that none of the answers would actually help you retrieve Casey—they just outlined how completely powerless you are. And how badly you need help. [[Next|7.24]]

“Trade what?” you ask. “Does it matter?” the Kestrel wonders, tipping $khisher head to the side. “A child’s life hangs in the balance. Can you truly afford to turn away aid?” You close your eyes, trying to stay calm. [[Because, oh, you fucking hate this fae.|7.25][$khos +=1]] ✿ [[Because the Kestrel wants to unnerve you and you can’t give in.|7.25][$kdip +=1]] 🏵

You take a breath. This feels like an impossible decision. If you accept, you have no actual guarantee that the Kestrel can really ‘help’ at all—at least not in anyway that //you// consider helpful. Because despite your best attempts earlier, $kheshe still managed to outmaneuver you. The risk doubles when you consider the fact that the Kestrel won’t name $khisher price. So you have no idea what you’re agreeing to. While the Kestrel has made no attempts to hurt you so far—nothing outwardly anyway—you don’t really //know// that $kheshe won’t, while knowing for a fact that $kheshe //can//. On the other hand, if you decline, you’re not just putting Casey’s life at risk but also Erebus’. Carter, $rname, and $zname might be able to come up with a plan that might work, but if they understand the facts the same way that you do then that seems really, really unlikely. You can practically hear Carter’s voice chastising you for even considering this. Carter’s done what he can to shield you from it, but over the years you’ve learned that the brutal reality of looking for missing people is that you can’t save //everyone//. It just isn’t possible—not even with your abilities. And more times than you can imagine, Carter has been forced to do the brutal calculus involved in weighing one life against another. But shouldn’t you //try//? [[Next|7.26]]

You take a breath and try to steel yourself. Whatever you choose, you’ll have to commit to it, because there’s no going back. "<<link [[Fine.|7tradeyes]]>>[\<<set $trade2 to "yes">>]<</link>>" "<<link [["No."|7tradno2]]>>[\<<set $trade2 to "no">>]<</link>>"

The Kestrel raises $khisher eyebrows, but $kheshe doesn’t seem surprised—merely curious—when $kheshe asks, “Why?” You take another breath and let it out slowly. “Because her life might not matter to you, but it matters to //me//,” you say. “I’ll do whatever I have to.” “And that’s a risk you’re willing to take?” the Kestrel asks. “For a stranger?” “Did I stutter?” The fae doesn’t answer you except to grin, obviously pleased. “I admire your conviction, Sparrow,” $kheshe says. “There are so few who possess such certainty in the face of the unknown.” You snort. “That doesn’t feel like a compliment. So, what do you want?” The Kestrel chuckles and $khisher eyes move slowly down your body and then up again. “Let’s not rush things,” $kheshe says eventually. “Let’s just consider it a favor owed. To be repaid later.” [[Next|7tradeyes2]]

The Kestrel raises $khisher eyebrows, though $khisher expression doesn’t give anything away but mild curiosity. “No? And here I thought you wanted to find the girl.” “I do. Which is why I’m not going to prop myself up on your vague promises to ‘help’. I think if you //could//, you wouldn’t have to be so shady about it. And that you //are//…?” You shake your head. “Forget it.” “And you’re certain?” $kheshe asks. “I’m not repeating myself.” You expect the Kestrel to feign disappointment, but instead $kheshe grins and you see the glint of sharp teeth. “I admire your confidence,” $kheshe says. “There are few who would not be intimidated by the possibilities.” You can’t help but see that as another attempt to change your mind. “Are we done?” The fae raises an eyebrow. “You don’t wish to linger?” “No, I don’t.” The Kestrel just laughs again and waves a hand. “We’re finished. It’s been a pleasure, Sparrow.” You bet it has. You roll your eyes and then turn away, the dream unraveling around you as you dismiss it with minimal effort. ✤✤✤ [[Next|7.27]]

You’re not sure if you should be relieved by that or not. On one hand, you’re not going to be asked to fork over your soul or whatever tonight. On the other hand, it gives the Kestrel more time to consider $khisher options. “Are we finished here, then?” you ask. The fae raises an eyebrow. “You don’t wish to linger?” “What? And let you fleece me out of even more favors?” you scoff. “No thanks.” The Kestrel just laughs again and waves a hand. “We’re finished. As always, Sparrow, it’s been a pleasure.” Yeah. You bet it has. You roll your eyes and then turn away, the dream unraveling around you as you dismiss it with minimal effort. ✤✤✤ [[Next|7.27]]

When you open your eyes, you’re still in bed. Still comfortably tucked under the guest room’s down duvet and silk sheets. You sigh and swing your legs over the side of the bed. For a few minutes, you just sit there with your arms wrapped around your middle, trying to process what you just experienced. You wonder if the Kestrel’s dreams always come with this strange feeling of—estrangement? Derealization? It’s a mild feeling for you that’s waning already, but it does remind you just how dangerous the Kestrel can be and everything the others have said. Would a normal person just feel completely untethered to reality? Would they feel like they’d //woken up// to a dream? At what point did reality stop being real? There’s a warble from somewhere near your feet and then the brief feeling of icy cold that quickly retreats. You lean forward to look over the side of the bed. “Erebus? Why are you under the bed?” Another warble, but this one quieter and almost sleepy. Like an animal nesting down. Which makes sense, you guess. Where else would a shade sleep but in the darkest place in a room? [[Next|7.28]]

“Okay?” it asks. “You mean you being under the bed? Yeah, that’s fine. But it might scare the hell out of someone, so just be careful.” There’s a quiet buzz and then, “You okay?” You smile a little. “Yeah. It was just… a weird dream. A weird… well, a whole weird life lately. I’m going to get up and see if the others have come back yet. You can stay here and rest.” You receive a quiet chirp in reply and get up from the bed. You didn’t have time to pack very much—just enough clothes for the next day or so and your toothbrush. You know that Carter would bring you anything you forgot, but still you hope this won’t last very long. You like your bed. You like your cabin. [[Next|7.29]]

There’s a light on in the hall, so you pull the bedroom door closed a little more and then head for the living room. $rnamepos apartment is just as impressive now as it was the first time. Unfortunately, the silence is also just as jarring. You reach out to sweep the apartment with your senses, only to find yourself wading in hip deep mud again. //Right//. You’d forgotten about that. You sigh as you pause in the middle of the hall. You could peek into some of the other rooms and see what all there is or you could go out to the living room. You remember there being a staircase to some kind loft. <<link [[Check out the other rooms.|zpath7.1]]>>[|<<set $apartment to "Z">>]<</link>> <<link [[Check out the loft.|rpath7.1]]>>[|<<set $apartment to "R">>]<</link>>

You turn to go further down the hall and away from the living room (you think). The walls are a pale, dusty gray, lined with modern art pieces and photos, with dim footlights that run along the baseboards. It’s more welcoming than you remember it being the first time, though that might just be because it’s now familiar. At the end of the hall you see a light on, slanting out the doorway of one of the extra rooms. You perk up a little and as you get closer you hear someone moving around. You lean around the door frame to peek inside and are momentarily frozen in surprise. It’s $zname. <<if $zgender is "man">> And he isn’t wearing a shirt. Which makes it easy for you to admire his broad shoulders and muscular back. His skin is smooth and flawless, except for the barest glimpse of an old scar at the base of his neck that’s so faded it almost blends with his skin. You can just make out the faint shape of some kind of symbol.<<else>> And she isn’t wearing a top, except for a sports bra, which shows off her toned shoulders and waist. Her skin is smooth and unblemished, except for the slightest glimpse an old scar at the base of her neck that’s so faded it blends with her skin. You can almost make out the faint shape of some kind of symbol.<</if>> [[Next|zpath7.2]]

You thought you remembered the apartment’s setup, but it takes you a second longer to orient yourself than you thought it would. Eventually, you find yourself in the living room. Most of the lights aren’t on and the few that are are dimmed to almost nothing. Between it and the fire burning in the gas fireplace, it’s cozier than you remember it. You think you hear movement in the kitchen, but it doesn’t deter you away from the stairs. They curve up to the loft and open into a small sitting area that looks down at the living room below. The furniture is similarly neutral and there are filmy, white curtains to create privacy. A short hall goes back further into the apartment and you follow it. On one side, there’s a door that looks into a surprisingly modest master bedroom. The lights are off, but you can make out the minimalist furnishings and smell a faint waft of familiar perfume. You step away and move further down the hall where there’s another door and light pouring out into the hall. [[Next|rpath7.2]]

[[Just... wow.|zpath7.3][$zplay +=1]] ♥ [[You quickly avert your eyes because it’s not just your face that’s feeling hot. Of course this doesn’t really help as your eyes keep wandering back.|zpath7.3][$zshy +=1]] ♡ [[It’s not that you’re not impressed by what you see. You just don’t feel any way in particular about it.|zpath7.3][$znosell +=1]] ▲

“Is everything alright?” You jump and for just a second you feel like dying of shame for just wandering into someone else’s room. But if it bothers $zname, $zheshe doesn’t show it. Instead, $zheshe turns to look at you directly as $zheshe works $zhisher arms into the sleeves of a plain sweater. There's a damp, dewy glow to $khisher skin that makes you think $kheshe must have just showered. “Everything’s fine,” you say quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I actually didn’t think anyone else was here yet.” $zname simply nods. “Fair enough. You were asleep when we arrived and Carter didn’t want to wake you. Did you sleep well?” You try not to outwardly make a face. You know you’ll have to tell everyone about the Kestrel again, but you don’t want to think about it right this moment. You definitely don’t want to go over the story twice. “Sort of,” you say, watching $zname pull $zhisher shirt over $zhisher head. $zupperheshe pauses a moment to shake out $zhisher locs. It’s the first time you’ve seen them down and there’s something about it that makes $zname look younger. [[Next|zpath7.4]]

Watching $zhimher, a memory from earlier comes back to you. “You saved my life.<<if $wounded is "Z">> That’s the second time.” <<else>>” <</if>> $zname raises an eyebrow. “Did I?” You shake your head. “Back at the cabin. That arrow would’ve hit me if you… well, I don’t actually know what you did?” “It was not anything as dire as that,” the agent protests. “It’s very likely that the arrow wouldn’t have harmed you. Whether the Seelie recognized Carter or not, it would take an enormous amount of bravado to attempt murder in broad daylight in front of witnesses.” [[You scoff. “That’s not really a bet I’d want to make.”|zpath7.5][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“You still protected me. That matters.”|zpath7.5][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[“You really are terminally modest, aren’t you?”|zpath7.5][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

You go on. “How’d you do it? Magic?” “In a sense,” $zname replies with a shrug. $zupperhisher calm nonchalance makes you feel a little calmer too. “I can create barriers and weapons.” You raise your eyebrows. “How?” $zname simply shrugs again and with a flick of $zhisher wrist, a knife materializes in $zhisher palm. It's sleek and deadly-looking, with a double-sided blade that almost resembles glass or crystal. Moreover, it seems to glow from within with a faint, golden light. An instant later it disappears. It’s still hard to process what your eyes just witnessed. It’s like watching the changeling transform or $rnamepos influence over the officers at the station. It’s just hard to wrap your head around it… “How is that innate?” you ask, finally finding your words. “That’s… I kind of thought you were human? Or…?” [[Next|zpath7.6]]

For a moment, $zname looks uncomfortable, but the expression is gone in an instant. Still, it takes another moment before $zheshe eventually says, “I have some celestial blood.” You blink. Once and then twice. “That’s… celestial? Celestial as in angels?” The agent chuckles and the sound is warm and rich. $zupperhisher shoulders seem to relax a little too. “Yes, though celestials are not holy,” $zheshe says. “They were enmeshed with early civilizations and because of their powers they were eventually seen as arbiters of justice and protectors. As oral histories were passed down, they became something less real and more idealized. Now, unfortunately, they’re quite rare.” You feel a little strange, having your perceptions uprooted in such a way, but at the same time… it fits? “So, your eyes…?” you ask. It feels like the gentlest question you can lead with. $zname smiles. “Yes. They are fortunately the only visible expression I have.” [[Next|zpath7.7]]

“Fortunate? Does it show differently for other people?” The agent nods and sits down on the edge of $zhisher bed, $zhisher elbows on $zhisher knees and $zhisher chin resting on $zhisher folded hands. You back up a little to lean against the opposing wall, facing $zhimher. “Full-blooded celestials are… distinct. To say the least.” It takes you a second, but then it clicks. “Oh! They really have wings?” “And some other traits, depending,” $zname says. $zupperhisher tone is clinical and detached—like $zheshe is giving a lecture and not talking about $zself. “Half-bloods tend to be more human in appearance, but their blood can express itself strangely. I’ve seen some with half-formed wings. Others with feathers in their hair and down their backs. Strangely colored skin. There are magics that can hide these features, but…” $zupperheshe finishes with a shrug. “Are half-bloods common?” you ask. [[Next|zpath7.8]]

$zname shakes $zhisher head. “No. Half-bloods are difficult to conceive and, as I said, Celestials are very rare these days. Most live as far away from humans as they can.” You nod in understanding. It makes sense that they’d retreat from humans. Even if there is magic that can hide someone’s more unusual features, who would want to //live// like that? Even you struggle sometimes and your powers have nothing to do with your appearance. “So you can create shields and weapons? Anything else?” $zname simply shrugs. The gesture is small and barely perceptible, which fits with everything else you’ve seen of $zhimher so far. There’s always an economy of movement and words in what $zheshe does. “I am faster and hardier than humans. I heal rapidly and I will have more years in my prime. I also…” $zheshe pauses a moment. “I can detect lies.” <<if $wounded is "Z">> You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Is that how you saw through the changeling’s illusion? And broke it?” “Yes,” the agent says with a nod. “How?” “It’s a difficult thing to describe. For me, it’s a sound of sorts. Like a note played off-key.” <<else>> You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “You detect lies? How?” “It differs for every celestial—or so I’ve heard. For me it’s… a sound. It’s hard to describe.” <</if>> [[Next|zpath7.9]]

You nod in understanding, though you keep frowning to yourself as you roll it around in your head. “I can sometimes pick up on lies, but I can’t pinpoint them,” you say. “But that must suck. People lie all the time.” $zname shrugs. “You learn to tune out the little lies. A lot of things that are seen as common courtesy involve socially-accepted lies—like saying you’re fine when you aren’t, because such questions are usually asked in the spirit of manners, not sincerity. But… yes, it can be difficult. For me and for those around me.” “What do you mean ‘those around you’?” $zname chuckles, watching you over the top of $zhisher folded hands. “People lie for all sorts of reasons—some harmless and others not—but it is always to conceal something. It’s uncomfortable then to know that someone can see through those lies.” [[Next|zpath7.10]]

You suppose that makes sense. You know that people probably wouldn’t be entirely comfortable with //your// abilities if they knew about them. Knowing that someone can detect all of your lies is probably somewhere on the same level. “I hope this doesn’t damage our relationship,” $zname goes on. “I would not wish to make you uncomfortable." You shrug. [[ “I grew up with Carter, so I literally never got away with lying anyway. We’re good.”|zpath7.11][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“You don’t. I'm not going to judge you for something you can't help.”|zpath7.11][$kind +=1]] ♢ "[["Yeah, don’t worry about it. Carter raised me, so I’m pretty bad at socially acceptable lies too."|zpath7.11][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

$zname smiles in relief and then gets to $zhisher feet again. “I’m sure Carter wants to speak to you. He was in the kitchen the last I saw.” You know a dismissal when you hear one and you nod. “Yeah, of course. I obviously have some questions too.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|7.30]]

You navigate back to the living room. There are only a few lights on and they’re turned low and the soft, warm light softens the harsh angles of the sleek, modern furniture. Under the light of a small desk lamp poached from the living room, Carter is sitting at the dinner table. He looks the same as ever, if not a bit tired, but you can’t help but see him just a little differently. His gun is disassembled on the table and he’s busy cleaning each of the parts with mechanical precision, but you’ve seen him do that a thousand times. What catches your attention is the array of other things laid out in front of him. Most of it is familiar. The hunting knife, bullets, compass, first aid kit, and canteen are all things you’ve seen Carter carry with him into the woods, whether you were camping or looking for someone missing. But there are unfamiliar things too. There are little glass vials in a leather satchel and something you recognize as a crystal pendulum amidst a small menagerie of other strange odds and ends. Bones, powders, syringes… [[Next|7.31]]

When you peek inside, you’re surprised to see that it’s a library. You vaguely remember $rname offering to show it to you when you first spoke and there’s little wonder why, because it’s very impressive. There are wall-to-wall bookshelves that are practically buckling under the weight they’re holding and in contrast to the rest of the house, the room is in a chaotic state of disarray. There’s a desk piled with papers and hefty, dog-eared tomes that look older than you by at least a century, and in the corner stands an apothecary cabinet laden with bunches of dried herbs and bottles of antique, amber glass. In what little space is free in the rest of the room, there are plants growing in pots and an assortment of strange, cultural artifacts and souvenirs. And at the center of the room, slumped in a timeworn armchair, is $rname. There’s a book sprawled open on $rhisher lap and $rheshe seems so absorbed in $rhisher reading that $rheshe doesn’t even notice you. <<if $rgender is "man">> His hair is messily tied back in a knot and he’s wearing a damask-patterned housecoat and matching pajama pants. It's the most laidback you’ve ever seen the man, but it's still all so painfully him that combined with the pair of half-framed glasses perched on the end of his nose, you can’t help but laugh. <<else>> Her hair is messily tied back in a knot and she’s wearing a silky, kimono-style robe. It's easily the most laidback you’ve ever seen the woman, but it’s still all so painfully her that combined with the pair of half-framed glasses perched on the end of her nose, you can’t help but laugh. <</if>> [[Next|rpath7.3]]

"[["Love the glasses."|rplay7.1][$rplay +=1]]" ♥ "[["You look comfortable."|rshy7.1][$rshy +=1]]" ♡ "[["You don't own any normal clothes, do you?"|rnosell7.1][$rnosell +=1]]" ▲

$rname looks up at you, raising an eyebrow. “Do you? I'll have to wear them more often then,” $rheshe says and the corner of $rhisher lips curls a little in a half-smile. Then $rhisher expression softens somewhat. “Did you sleep well?” You try not to make a face. You know that you need to tell them about the Kestrel’s newest visit, but you don’t feel like having that discussion just yet. Besides, you don’t want to have to explain it more than once. It might as well wait until Carter and $zname are in the room too. ‘ "[[As well as I ever do.|rpath7.4][$snark +=1]]" ♤ "[[Yeah. I’m good.|rpath7.4][$kind +=1]]" ♢ "[[No, but that’s whatever.|rpath7.4][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

$rname looks up at you quickly, obviously surprised for just a moment. “I am, thank you,” $rheshe says. “And you? Did you sleep well?” You try not to make a face. You know that you need to tell them about the Kestrel’s newsest visit, but you don’t feel like having that discussion just yet. Besides, you don’t want to have to explain it more than once. It might as well wait until Carter and $zname are in the room too. ‘ "[[As well as I ever do.|rpath7.4][$snark +=1]]" ♤ "[[Yeah. I’m good.|rpath7.4][$kind +=1]]" ♢ "[[No, but that’s whatever.|rpath7.4][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

$rname looks up at you quickly and then glances down at $rhisher pajamas. “Nope,” $rheshe concludes after a moment before $rhisher attention returns to you. “Did you sleep well?” You try not to make a face. You know that you need to tell them about the Kestrel’s newsest visit, but you don’t feel like having that discussion just yet. Besides, you don’t want to have to explain it more than once. It might as well wait until Carter and $zname are in the room too. ‘ "[[As well as I ever do.|rpath7.4][$snark +=1]]" ♤ "[[Yeah. I’m good.|rpath7.4][$kind +=1]]" ♢ "[[No, but that’s whatever.|rpath7.4][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

“Why didn’t you wake me?” “Carter wanted you to rest,” $rname replies with a shrug. “You haven’t missed anything anyway.” “No? You seem busy,” you say, gesturing to the book in $rhisher lap and the pages of scribbled notes stacked on the end table beside $rhisher chair. “What are you working on?” $rname sighs and glances at $rhisher notes. “Research. Regular wards may not be entirely effective against a Dreamwalker and I’d like to refine them a little.” You nod, your attention turning to the cluttered shelves and the amalgamation of artifacts that dot the room. “So, this is… what? A hobby? Your job?” [[Next|rpath7.5]]

“A bit of both,” $rname says with a shrug. “I enjoy researching esoteric and forgotten magic. It also comes in handy with the work I do.” “Which is what? You ask. $rupperheshe shrugs. “MAB is only interested in controlling and containing the supernatural community. They aren’t the police. So supernaturals usually have to find their own justice. For some that means vigilantism, but there are others who just want answers, which I am very good at. Missing persons, curse-breaking, robberies, murders—I’ve done a little bit of everything.” Well, that makes sense. Especially in context of that memory you picked up on when reading $rhimher. “Is that how you and Carter met?” you ask as you move to one of the bookshelves to look over the collection. Some of the spines are ancient and barely holding together and others look new. $rname shrugs. “More or less. MAB has no interest in peacekeeping or seeking justice, but oftentimes those that commit crimes against the supernatural community are already on MAB's radar. Our paths crossed by accident the first time, but eventually Carter began seeking me out for information. Then we began trading favors.” [[Next|rpath7.6]]

You glance back over your shoulder. “So you’re… some kind of witch?” you ask. “Or just a magic nerd?” “I resent that. And ‘witch’ is generally a word reserved for paranaturals that have innate magic and they’re very touchy about its use,” $rname replies, rolling $rhisher eyes. “They might call me a hedge witch, but only if they were feeling generous.” You snort a little at that as you turn to face $rhimher again. “Then what are you? What do wards have to do with mind control? Or whatever you called it—mentalism?” “In a way, they’re very closely related,” $rname says with a shrug. “What people traditionally think of as magic—conjuring and transfiguration and the like—is really just the manifestation of the user’s will. Anti-magic then—like wards—is a subversion of that will. Much like what you call ‘mind control’.” You frown. “So it’s just an extension of what you can already do? Which is…?” [[Next|rpath7.7]]

“At my core? I’m naturally only an empath,” $rname replies. “And on the surface, there’s not much to such an ability. Empathy forms a connection between you and someone else and, on its own, the empath is only a receiving party. But with enough determination and work, you can learn to manipulate that connection in other ways—starting by manipulating feelings, which turns into manipulating another party’s perceptions, and then into manipulating someone's will or even damping or amplifying someone's abilities. As I did when we astral projected. That's why I prefer the term mentalism. It's vague enough to encompass more." $rupperheshe describes it with such indifferent calm that you're a little put-off. “More like mind control?” $rname shrugs. “A variant of such a thing. As I said, it’s not truly mind control—not in the way that people think of it anyway. It’s imposing a malleable state of mind on someone else, which makes them easy to direct. It’s—” “A subversion of will,” you finish, nodding in understanding. “How does dreamwalking blend with that?” “It doesn’t. Like I said, it isn’t true dreamwalking. In fact, it wasn’t even intentional,” $rheshe admits with a somewhat sheepish smile as $rheshe rubs $rhisher neck. “When you first appeared in front of $zname and I with the skipper, I knew you were scared and I had no idea how you would react to being in a new place, since it was obvious that you barely understood what was happening. So once here, I tried to gather surface impressions from you while you slept and also impart a sense of safety. But you were much more powerful than I imagined and it formed a connection, like we did when I taught you astral projection. Except this was accidental and I got dragged into the undertow. Participating in your dream was absolutely fascinating—but entirely unintended." [[Next|rpath7.8]]

You’re not sure how you feel about all of that. It certainly adds context to a lot of things—particularly $rnamepos fascination with your powers. But it also annoys you. [[ “Imparting a sense of safety” sounds a whole lot like brainwashing. Which you kind of hate.|rpath7.9][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[You can appreciate their intentions. Which doesn’t mean you’re not annoyed, but you understand.|rpath7.9][$kind +=1]] ♢ [["You wish you hadn't missed when you threw that vase at " + $rhimher + "."|rpath7.9][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

You open your mouth to say something, but $rname beats you to it: “I’m sorry. I didn’t have any right to try to influence you, regardless of my reasons, and I had no right to mess with you in your dream. I meant well, but that means very little in the grand scheme of things if it causes harm. Even unintentionally.” You deflate a little. It’d be easier to stay mad if $rname didn’t sound so sincere. $rupperheshe might think being an empath is an unimpressive power, but it probably comes in handy in moments like this. “Just don’t do it again,” you say, warningly. $rname just laughs. “I promise, I’ve learned my lesson—if not because of the dream then certainly because of the reading afterward.” $rupperheshe settles back in $rhisher chair. “Carter was in the kitchen the last I saw him. He’ll want to know you’re up.” “Knowing him, he probably already does,” you mumble. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” The $rgender laughs and shakes $rhisher head. “Never, but I have research to do and I won’t be very good company. And I know Carter wanted to talk to you.” Something about $rhisher tone changes when $rheshe says that and you can’t help but think about what all happened earlier. So you nod. “Yeah. Alright.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|7.30]]

You reach out to pick up the pendulum and Carter glances up at you. “Did you sleep all right?” he asks. “Yeah.” You sit down across from him, frowning a little as you roll the crystal bob around in your palm. “What is all of this?” “Stuff I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t need again,” he mutters. “Careful with that. And don’t touch the vials.” “Why?” Carter sighs, but he sounds tired, not annoyed. “The vials are filled with poison—shit that’s toxic even if it touches your skin—and the pendulum is expensive. Attuning another one would be a bitch.” [[Nope. You don’t have anything witty to say to that.|7.32][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[You blink a few times in confusion, unsure of how to react.|7.32][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[Great. More weird shit.|7.32][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

Carter glances up at you briefly and a slight smile pulls at the corner of his lips. But it fades quickly. “I never wanted to involve you in any of this. I never wanted my past to be your problem,” he begins. “Herman County’s a hotspot, but I had enough of a reputation that everything kept its distance. The ones that didn’t, learned they should—fast. I thought that was enough.” You’re about to argue that that’s not an explanation at all, but stop yourself as you realize something. “Enough of a—you mean the Balor thing?” You word it like a question, but you pretty much know the answer. The Kestrel said the title was a mark of respect. It makes sense that if the fae are feared by other supernaturals then their enemies would be feared too. “Yeah,” Carter answers finally with a nod. “I’ve never been crazy about it, but it came in handy when it came to you.” “Because it scared things off?” He nods again as he begins reassembling his gun. “Power attracts power and you’re a big neon sign. That’s also why I gave you my name.” [[Next|7.33]]

You blink again. “What?” Carter raises an eyebrow, his hands pausing mid-motion. “Names have power. You know that now,” he says. “And giving a name has as much power as taking one. The fae understand it as a sort of ownership, but that's because they don't understand anything that has to do with caring about anyone but themselves. //I// gave you my name to protect you—so a little bit of that respect would rub off. I thought between that and…” He trails off with a sigh and sits his gun aside to rub his eyes. “You’d be right to be mad at me.” “Mad for what?” you demand. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” “I didn’t tell you the truth. Now all of this—” "[[You mean you kind of lied because you didn’t tell me your scary, badass title that makes eldritch, immortal beings trip all over themselves?|cartersnark7.1][$snark +=1]]" ♤ "[[You mean the truth I told you explicitly I didn’t want to know anything about?|carterkind7.1][$kind +=1]]" ♢ "[[Oh, just whatever, old man.|cartergrumpy7.1][$grumpy +=1]]" ♧

"You’re right. You do kind of suck for that because that would’ve been awesome for career day in tenth grade.” Carter answers with a soft huff of laughter, but gives you a flat look as if asking you to be serious. You shake your head. “Carter, not telling the scared teenager with no memory about the freaky things that might try to kill $himher was probably a good thing because it’d be kind of a lot to process on top of the whole being psychic thing. And maybe as that scared teenager, I wouldn’t have understood that, but thankfully I have a mostly developed prefrontal cortex these days. So, we’re cool, okay? I’m just curious about—” You gesture widely to indicate him and the tools in front of him—“this? The weird vampire hunter vibes right now—explain those.” [[Next|7.34]]

“Because I didn’t want to know if there were other people like me out there?” you ask. "C'mon, Carter." Carter makes a face, like he doesn't quite believe it. You shake your head and cut in before he can say anything more. “Carter, not telling the scared teenager with no memory about the freaky things that might try to kill $himher was probably a good thing because it’d be kind of a lot to process on top of the whole being psychic thing. And maybe as that scared teenager, I wouldn’t have understood that, but thankfully I have a mostly developed prefrontal cortex these days. So, we’re cool, okay? I’m just curious about—” You gesture widely to indicate him and the tools in front of him—“this? The weird vampire hunter vibes right now—explain those.” [[Next|7.34]]

"I’ll hold it against you later when I want to be petty and vindictive about something //dumb//.” Carter scoffs, but gives you a flat look as if asking you to be serious. You shake your head. “Carter, not telling the scared teenager with no memory about the freaky things that might try to kill $himher was probably a good thing because it’d be kind of a lot to process on top of the whole being psychic thing. And maybe as that scared teenager, I wouldn’t have understood that, but thankfully I have a mostly developed prefrontal cortex these days. So, we’re cool, okay? I’m just curious about—” You gesture widely to indicate him and the tools in front of him—“this? The weird vampire hunter vibes right now—explain those.” [[Next|7.34]]

The cop shakes his head, but his shoulders relax a little and just like that it’s done. No more apologies. There’s no need. Then in a very Carter sort of move, he finally says: “I’ve only ever hunted one vampire.” You practically explode with questions. “No way! How? What kind of vampire? Are we talking Bram Stoker or Anne Rice?” [[Next|7.35]]

Carter shrugs. “They vary about as much as anyone does, but the one I went after was quite beautiful. She also preyed primarily on children—which was why I went after her. But I’ve met others and a handful work with MAB. They’re really just people. Old, smug, and condescending sometimes, but the same can be said about every middle manager on the planet. And we still let them out during the day.” You grin a little. “So, how did you ever get involved with MAB to begin with? I’m guessing they don’t send out pamphlets in the mail.” The man’s whole demeanor seems to change, his expression darkening a little. He glances at you. “No, they don’t…” Something about the tone of his voice makes you frown. Carter never expresses much through his aura. He is, and has always been, just kind of //there//, which is why you’ve made it a habit over the years of focusing on him to calm yourself because Carter’s always just Carter. So the twinge of //something// you sense from him is distressing. It’s hard to parse its exact meaning and reason, but it’s enough to put you a little on edge. [[Next|7.36]]

“Carter?” you prompt, gently. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He shakes his head. “No, you deserve to hear it now that we’re putting everything in the open. And I’d rather tell you myself instead of letting someone else do it,” he says. “I had a sister growing up. A twin. Her name was Cass.” His tone is clipped and matter-of-fact, like he’s disassociated himself from all of it as much as possible and he’s just reading from a page. “She went missing when we were seventeen and the cops weren’t interested in looking for her. They just said she ran away and acted like it was my fault.” He trails off and for a few moments he looks faraway. His aura crackles with heat and anger, but only for an instant. You have questions. Mostly about how you’ve known Carter for ten years and never knew he had family. In the past, you have—only somewhat facetiously—considered the possibility that he just spontaneously formed one day when a pile of flannel and cigarette ash gained sapience. It’s strange to think of him as having had a twin… “Did you ever find her?” you ask. [[Next|7.37]]

“I found her body. It was…” Carter shakes his head, like he’s shaking off the memory. “I got it out of her friends that Cass went out to meet a guy. He was popular in town and came from a rich family, but he always made me uneasy. There were a lot of rumors about his family and how people who got involved with them always left town or disappeared. I guess Cass knew how I felt, because she never told me about him.” Carter’s eyes narrow and his aura flickers again with something else. Something dark. And angry. “I followed up on some of the rumors and asked around. This was down south a ways, so every other grandmother you met was a kitchen witch and we all grew up hearing about voodoo and zombies. And eventually I found out that guy’s family—they were werewolves. Real ones.” He trails off and you struggle to find something to say. So you ask what seems to be the next logical question. “Didn’t that freak you out?” Carter shrugs. “I was too angry to be scared at the time.” He stares at the table for a moment, idly rolling one of the bullets around between his fingers. You’re not even sure that he knows he’s doing it. “The only useful thing my dad ever taught me was how to hunt, so I started watching them—the whole family, I mean. I even started following them on the full moon. I pieced together that killing was a part of their initiation rites and Cass was just…” He waves a hand. “After about a year of learning everything I could, I killed their pack leader.” [[Next|7.38]]

It’s a blunt, unsugared confession that is neither guilt-ridden or boastful. In a way, it’s comforting, because it’s how you’ve always known Carter to be. But it’s also a little hard to reconcile. It's obvious that Carter accepted his own actions a long time ago, whether he agrees with them now or not. “Why not just kill the guy who killed Cass?” you ask. “Because he wasn’t the root of the problem. He’d die and the pack would just do it again, to someone else’s kid and someone else’s little sister,” he says with a shrug. “Killing the pack leader, though—they ended up ripping each other apart fighting for power.” After a moment longer, he finally meets your eyes again. “It fucks with you—knowing stuff like that’s real and you can’t tell anybody. I already couldn’t stand being home after Cass died and I figured it’d all come back to me eventually, so I dropped out of high school and left town just to be safe. But I still couldn’t let it go. Since I knew what to look for, I ended up tracking down another problem pack. After that, it didn’t take MAB long to find me.” “Were you in trouble?” Carter shakes his head. “No and I should’ve been because it was murder. But MAB didn’t care about that. They didn’t care about Cass or anyone else the pack had killed either. Turns out that killing werewolves is supposed to be pretty hard, but I was good at it, so they wanted me. Under different circumstances, they would've blackmailed me by threatening to reveal my identity to other wolf packs, but I was so full of hate and anger that they didn’t need to.” He looks at you again. “MAB’s good at figuring out what the worst part of you is and making that //all// you are.” [[Next|7.39]]

There’s an unspoken warning in his words that settles heavy in your gut.<<if $route2 is "Z">> And you can’t help but think about $zname. <</if>> You open your mouth to ask, but Carter’s eyes suddenly dart to the side and a second later you hear a step on the stairs. It’s $rname descending the stairs with a book propped open in the crook of $rhisher arm. You look back at Carter. <<link [[This has changed things and you don’t know how to feel about Carter now.|7.391]]>>[|<<set $Cfeelings to "changed">>]<</link>> <<link [[This hasn't changed anything. Carter is still Carter.|7.392]]>>[|<<set $Cfeelings to "same">>]<</link>>

Carter catches your eye and you offer a tepid smile. He seems to sense the shift in your mood, but he still nods in understanding. “Find something?” Carter asks $rname. $rname finally looks up from $rhisher book. “Hm? Oh yes. I think so, anyway. I’ll have to do a few experiments, but I think I’ve found a combination that should repel fae.” You can’t help but make a face. Right. The fae. The whole reason you’re here to begin with. It’s a thought that also brings the Kestrel back to the forefront of your mind. You sigh, suddenly feeling very tired. [[“Yeah, hold that thought. We have another problem.”|7.40][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“Speaking of the fae, there’s something I need to tell you….”|7.40][$snark +=1]] ♢ [[“Good, because it happened again.”|7.40][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

Carter catches your eye and you smile, earning a half-smile in return. You’ve known each other for too long for this to change anything. “Find something?” the cop asks $rname. $rname finally looks up from $rhisher book. “Hm? Oh yes. I think so, anyway. I’ll have to do a few experiments, but I think I’ve found a combination that should repel fae.” You can’t help but make a face. Right. The fae. The whole reason you’re here to begin with. It’s a thought that also brings the Kestrel back to the forefront of your mind. You sigh, suddenly feeling very tired. [[“Yeah, hold that thought. We have another problem.”|7.40][$snark +=1]] ♤ [[“Speaking of the fae, there’s something I need to tell you….”|7.40][$kind +=1]] ♢ [[“Good, because it happened again.”|7.40][$grumpy +=1]] ♧

Carter raises an eyebrow at you, but $rname just sighs and turns away again. “I’ll go get $zname.” ✤✤✤ [[Next|7.41]]

It’s not as long of a story this time as it was before. This dream seemed less about impressing you and more about getting to the point and you’re not sure if you should be worried about that or not. The others’ reactions don’t help. “That shouldn’t be possible,” $zname says, noticeably concerned. “This—this is bad.” “It was already bad,” $rname argues. “This is //worse//. Much worse!” “Both of you shut up,” Carter barks at them, obviously annoyed. He looks back at you. “You’re sure this wasn’t just a regular dream?” “It was the same as last time—the same feeling,” you say. “Why? How is this worse?” $rname scoffs out a strangled sort of laugh. “It’s worse because it shouldn’t be //possible//! This is a liminal space—the fae have no connection to or power over it!" [[Next|7.42]]

You look at Carter for an explanation. He sighs. “Liminal spaces exist in gaps between planes of reality. Think of them like a space between the floors in a house. There are stories about people accidentally ending up in liminal spaces, but for the most part it’s not possible to just //guess// when looking for one. Not even for fae. If you don’t know an exact location, you could end up anywhere and you’ll be stuck there. That the dreamwalker found you here means $kheshe has something that connects you two.” Oh, well, //that// doesn't sound good. “Something like what?” you demand. “Usually a physical token,” $zname says. $zupperhisher shoulders are tense and tight, even though $zheshe stands casually with $zhisher hands in $zhisher pockets. “A lock of hair, a phylactery—” “But even promises or an emotional bond can do it, depending,” $rname mutters, $rhisher mind clearly already somewhere else. You don’t like to imagine the Kestrel creeping up on you while you’re sleeping and stealing a lock of hair. Not that you don’t think $kheshe would do it—you just don’t want to think about it. Carter sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Let's not get distracted. There’s nothing we can do about that right now. Just finish telling us about the dream.” Now you hesitate. <<if $trade1 is "kiss">> [[Next|kisspath]]<<else>> [[Next|otherpath]] <</if>>

You know that no matter what you say, you’re going to get an earful for being reckless, and that’s before you even get to confessing //what// you agreed to trade. So you decide to dodge that particular bullet and spare yourself. <<if $apartment is "Z">> And knowing that $zname can detect lies now makes you more aware of your words. “The Kestrel offered information in exchange for a favor $kheshe said $kheshe would collect later,” you say. <<else>> "I chose to give $khimher a secret," you lie, hoping it sounds convincing. You glance around to judge their reactions and briefly catch $znamepos eye. $zupperheshe is giving you a strange, calculating look, but $zheshe says nothing. <</if>> “Well, I failed as a parent,” Carter deadpans. “Because I could’ve sworn I raised you to be smarter than this.” “Hey! What choice did I have? We’re not exactly swimming in options right now on the whole ‘rescue Casey’ front,” you protest. “It seemed worth the gamble this time.” <<if $apartment is "Z">> “Yes, well we’ll see if that remains the case once that favor comes due,” $rname says, though $rhisher tone is neutral. <<else>> "Worth it until the fae turns whatever secret you shared against you," $rname replies, sounding frustrated. <</if>> [[Next|7.43]]

You know that no matter what you say, you’re going to get an earful for being reckless. “Well, I failed you as a parent,” Carter deadpans in response. <<if $trade1 is "memory">> “It was just a memory!” you protest. “I doubt I was stupid enough to offer $khimher anything important.” $zname sighs. “Not to pile on to the current circumstances, but how would you know?” $zheshe asks gently. “You only have the fae’s word that you even had a choice.” “Fine, but what was I supposed to do? We’re not exactly swimming in options right now on the whole ‘rescue Casey’ front,” you protest. <<elseif $trade1 is "secret">> “It was just a secret! One $kheshe already knows, at that,” you protest. “And one $kheshe threatened to expose,” $rname replies. “I would say that you’re lucky this fae is being so especially forgiving, but I suspect this forgiveness has a price you’ll pay sooner rather than later.” You make a face. “Can you not sit there and rub it in? Besides, what choice did I have? We’re not really swimming in options on the ‘rescuing Casey’ front.” <</if>> [[Next|7.43]]

A silence settles over your group as everyone takes a moment to process what you’ve just said. Which you’re grateful for, as you try to figure out what you should do next. <<if $trade2 is "yes">> <<link [[Tell the others about the second trade and your decision to agree.|trade2yesyestell]]>>[|<<set $trade2yestell to "yes">>]<</link>> <<link [[Don't mention the second trade. That's between you and the Kestrel.|trade2yesnotell]]>>[|<<set $trade2yestell to "no">>]<</link>> <<else>> <<link [[Tell the others about the second offer and your decision to reject it.|tradenoyestell]]>>[|<<set $trade2notell to "yes">>]<</link>> <<link [[Don't mention the second trade. You didn't accept, so it doesn't matter.|tradenonotell]]>>[|<<set $trade2notell to "no">>]<</link>> <</if>>

“There’s more.” You have to force the words out, because you know what’s coming. Your shoulders curl a little defensively in preparation. $rname and $zname both glance at Carter, who is watching you carefully. “More what?” he asks. “Another trade,” you say. “The Kestrel… $kheshe offered to help retrieve Casey.” A muscle tightens in Carter’s jaw and he takes a breath. “What did they want in exchange?” “$kupperheshe wouldn’t specify. $kupperheshe said $kheshe would decide later.” He nods, though it doesn’t seem to be in agreement, but rather understanding. “And you agreed.” You’re not sure what it is about your track record that makes Carter so certain of this, but you appreciate him saying it out loud. Because that means you don’t have to. “Yeah.” [[Next|yesyestell2]]

“There’s more,” you say. “The Kestrel offered to help retrieve Casey.” Carter, $rname, and $zname all trade looks. “In exchange for what?” $rname asks. You shake your head. “$kupperheshe wouldn’t specify. Which is why I said ‘no’.” “Good,” Carter says, with audible relief. “I didn’t fail you completely, at least. Is there anything else?” You sigh. There’s probably a lot you could //say// about the Kestrel, but nothing that’s actually relevant at present. “No. That’s it.” Carter nods and stands up. “$rname, sort out the wards. $zname, go back to the cabin, make sure nothing is lingering on the property. Check to make sure our guest didn’t leave any presents behind earlier.” $rname makes only a vague noise in agreement while $zname doesn’t say anything at all, and they both disperse. Leaving you alone with Carter again. [[Next|noyestell2]]

You’re no more convinced now than you were before that the Kestrel actually intends to help you—or even that $kheshe can. So you won’t mention the second deal. You didn’t take it and Carter has enough to worry about without you piling on. Besides, you’re an adult. You're prepared to accept the repercussions of such a decision. Still, your gut twists with anxiety. Carter stands up with a sigh. “All right. $rname, sort out the wards. $zname, go back to the cabin, make sure nothing is lingering on the property. Check to make sure our guest didn’t leave any presents behind earlier.” $rname murmurs in agreement and $zname nods before they both disperse, leaving you alone with Carter. [[Next|7.44]]

$rname closes $rhisher eyes and lets out a low breath as $zname turns away, rubbing $zhisher neck anxiously. Carter doesn’t immediately react. Instead, he takes a breath and casually gets to his feet. “Okay,” he sighs. “$rname, sort out the wards. $zname, go back to the cabin, make sure nothing is lingering on the property. Check to make sure our guest didn’t leave any presents behind earlier.” Neither $rname or $zname argue---possibly because neither of them want to stick around to watch the fallout---and they both disperse, leaving you and Carter alone. Carter doesn’t say anything. Instead, he’s leaning back against the table with his arms folded, his brow knitted in thought. You cringe a little, but decide to break the silence: “I know you’re mad, but if there’s a chance $kheshe can help us find Casey….” You trail off, not really sure what argument you’re trying to make. [[Next|yesyestell3]]

To your surprise, the man shakes his head. “I’m not mad—not at you, anyway,” he says. “I’m mad at myself, mostly. I’m mad at being useless.” “You’re not useless,” you protest as you come to stand beside him. He gives you a sideways look. “Some fae is creeping into your dreams at night and I can’t do anything about it. That seems pretty useless.” You make a face. “Yeah, but do you need to? If the Kestrel wanted to hurt me, wouldn’t $kheshe have done it already?” “That depends on how much $kheshe enjoys playing with $khisher food,” Carter mutters. “Fae have all the time in the world. They can afford patience—especially with their enemies.” He sighs and after a moment of thought, he finally looks at you again. “I get why you made the deal. It was //dumb//, but I get it. So, whatever happens…” He finishes with a shrug and you immediately understand. Whatever happens, he’ll still be there. The relief is immediate and sharp. [[Next|7.44]]

You’re not entirely convinced that the Kestrel intends to help you—or even that $kheshe can. So you won’t mention the second deal. Carter has enough to worry about without you piling on. Besides, you’re an adult. If you weren’t prepared to face the repercussions of such a decision, you wouldn’t have accepted. Still, your gut twists with anxiety. Carter stands up with a sigh. “All right. $rname, sort out the wards. $zname, go back to the cabin, make sure nothing is lingering on the property. Check to make sure our guest didn’t leave any presents behind earlier.” $rname murmurs in agreement and $zname nods before they both disperse, leaving you alone with Carter. [[Next|7.44]]

“When do you think the parley will happen?” you ask, leaning back against one of the dining room chairs. You're tired, but not sleepy. Instead, your body just feels heavy. Heavy and numb. There's a dull throb behind your eyes, but you know that for once it doesn't have anything to do with your powers. Carter sighs. “Honestly? It’ll happen when the Morning Court feels like it. But I doubt they’ll keep us waiting too long.” You make a face. “How will we know?” “Don't worry about it. We'll know,” he assures you. He gives you a brief once-over, his brow furrowing a little with concern. "Are you sure you're all right?" “I… don’t actually know,” you murmur with a listless shrug. “This is just… it’s a lot. It’s a lot happening really, really fast.” Carter hums in agreement as he folds his arms and leans back against the table. “That's true, but you’re handling it well.” You scoff. “Am I? Or am I just too overwhelmed to react right now? It feels like I’ve barely taken a breath since this started.” Carter takes a moment to consider this before putting an arm around your shoulders and giving you a brief, encouraging squeeze. It’s the closest thing to a hug he knows how to give. “I guess we’ll figure that out when we’re done.” //We//. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to soothe your doubt. [[End Chapter 7]] <span style="color:gold">^^Make sure that you save on this screen^^</span>

“What's wrong?” he asks, giving you an odd look. “Hm? Oh, yeah…” You nod. “I just… do you think I did the right thing? I mean, what if $kheshe could help Casey?” Carter holds your eyes for a moment before sighing. “Truthfully? $kupperheshe probably could have helped. And given the wording of the offer, it might have even been sincere.” You stomach sinks. You can’t help it. But before you can say anything, Carter stops you. “Which doesn’t mean you’re //wrong// for saying no,” he says. “It’s tempting to play the hero, but sometimes we have to decide between saving ourselves and saving someone else. And while I’m sure Casey’s parents would rather you pick Casey, I’m glad you picked //you//.” You still don’t know how you feel, but you nod anyway. [[Next|7.44]]

I'm just as shocked as you are that this was finished so quickly, but I've been really motivated lately! As always, thank you for reading and thank you to those who support me on Patreon!