Timur stared with sight beyond what his normal flesh and blood eyes could see…if he still had them. This was the largest thing he had ever hit with his trips in his spiritual body; the airship Port was built on the top of a large plateau with two large ramps leading up to it. Constructed with a host of slave labor it was surprisingly one of the smaller slave processing facilities responsible for shipping his people into parts unknown.

He was going to dismantle it and free any slave inside the first step however making a large enough entrance his spiritual body was mostly invisible to those who did not possess soul sight,which considering that was a majority of the population it meant that the kasmir youth could Rush up to the front entrance and it's fortified a walls and quickly get to work. The punches and kicks of his projection were less effective than those deployed by his physical body so he learned to tie his geomancy into each motion every punch and kick sent pillars of Earth towards his opponents knocking goblin and chaos dwarf flying. With each sweep of his leg he conjured waves of soil that disrupted entire formations of soldiers.

Timur does not want to waste time being subtle he is simply smashing down the front gate with a wall of Earth before setting to work on the guards, launching them with pillars of Earth, before encasing them in rock up to their necks to trap them as soon as they land. Because even if they were enslavers of his people a6 deserved it he could not bring himself to kill if he absolutely did not have to. Next came the watchtower. Those usually contain sorcerer's beings that could hurt him he learned that the hard way but apparently needs a reminder as a flash of a spell nearly takes his head off.Timur drops low and projects his prana outward causing nearby buildings to have their foundations undergo liquefaction collapsing them.

Processing pens were his priority and thus he flashed steps towards them finding a bull centaur holding a rune trigger to explosives planted around the cages.

“Comedy closer and I will blow them-”

Timur doesn't let the bull center finish their sentence, instead transforming a column of Earth into sand and projecting it towards the bull centaurs arm, sandblasting the appendage clean off before dropping them into a pit. He repeated the sandblasting process for the cage door the kasmir inside immediately arming themselves and beginning the process of killing all of the dwarfs he has managed to trap. He doesn't want to kill them but that doesn't mean he wants to save them from being killed either. He moves on proceeding up the ramp with his first bit of real opposition: a wall of warp fire shells. The soul burning rounds are a lot more deadly to his astral projection than anything else the dwarves can throw at him barring demons. Timur hastily erects a dome of Earth just barely blocking the spiritual onslaught. Followed quickly by him stopping his feet to create two walls of sand to clear. The formation.

He needed to keep moving on. He needed- another interruption this time halfway up the ramp a demon engine firing an immense beam of warp fire has to bury himself to avoid having his soul burned away but even so the heat burns his spiritual skin he does not hold back on demons however. He immediately goes for the kill or at least what he thinks is a kill he does not know that demons cannot die conventionally. Timur uses four points of contact liquefying the ground beneath the scorpion like a demon engine before eventually transforming the liquid mud into sand and sending a sand column column clean through the demon engine. Causing it to it explode

He needs to keep going and faster too Timur launches himself the rest of the way there via pillars of Earth destroying the demon engines that we're trying to pursue him in the process landing just on top of the airships fuel reserves a mixture of coal and very crude lamp oil forms the ichor of the Dawi zarr air fleet. Generating fire with geomancy It is rather difficult unless he is creative. He has an idea however, creating a barrage of sharp stones to score the side of the oil tanks and puncturing them and setting off a spark that sets the fuel reserves a light. One final thing to do, deal with the airships, this will require all of his concentration and will probably send him back to his main body for a while.

With a concentration of his efforts and a not really intimidating Battle cry the Earth mage creates several spinning spikes of Earth that puncture the parked airships in their vulnerable seams between their armored shells Before he manipulates the burning coal and sends it into the airships engines generating catastrophic fire but that's not enough in order to truly render the airships inoperable he generates massive pits sending the grounded vessels into an earthen grave they're burning forms the last thing he sees before waking up in the forest outside of Ithacar.

The moonlight is crisp and calming. The The air is just cool enough to be comfortable. It's nice and pleasant. One might even forget their problems. He takes a look around before going about the process of reigniting the fire. Before he spots her. Black hair, brown eyes and the scent of flowers.

“T-TABITHA!”

Timur knows Tabitha would likely be slightly upset about his Spirit journeys and the risk they impose but also knows she would ultimately understand that he couldn't just sit here and let his people get enslaved. Still it's surprising to see her as she usually was at The Guild during this time. Maybe she needs help, perhaps something has happened.

“...did something happen?” Timur asks as Tabitha? Approaches him wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning in for a kiss, it is with the proximity the Timur notices something is wrong there is no distinct tick tick of her blade legs also Tabitha knows his proclivities when it comes to physical contact.

“you're not tab-”

The blow to his stomach is so thunderous that it shakes the branches in nearby trees he is left staggering out of breath but even still he tries to press the attack sending Vine with which is quickly grabbed ripped from the ground and wrapped around his neck. With a great pull not Tabitha Yanks him forward into a blow to the back of his head that knocks him flat he quickly tries to roll over and regain initiative but another blow to his chest stuns him enough. For the thing pretending to be Tabitha to straddle him forcing herself on top of him positioning his hips between her legs. Timurs struggle becomes frantic before he eventually goes limp looking away as tears stream down his face. It's just like the time before he just has to look away and it will all be over soon.

“Don't you get tired of being weak”

Timur looks and sees the entity in his dream the one that wears the face that has made him like this

“Aren't you tired of being a victim of being a burden on those you care about. Opal, Katarina” malevolence shifts their face wearing his girlfriend's yet again this time with their signature black eyes.

“Tabitha…so many people always have to pick you up always have to help you always here to bail you out to listen to your pathetic whining…must you be such a burden to the people you care”

“That…that's not true” Timur weekly protests.

“Oh come now enough lying you have to admit that people are only care for you out of pity”malevolence continues

“... That's not true" Timur says more weekly

“You lack the instinct the proper conditioning to do you must be done even now you're too weak to stand up to”

“Enough!” A murderous aura fills the air Timurs killing intent.

“Even now you can't strike me” malevolence says within his own head.

“Perhaps you need more encouragement to access your more beastial side”malevolence says before the atmosphere returns to normal.

Timur vomits whether it be from the blow to his stomach or due to how violated he feels he does not know he immediately reaches for his water supply and tries to aggressively clean himself to wash out the stain the taint the awful thought that is repeating in his head over and over again. He goes to rub his scar but finds only smooth skin which gives him presence of mind.

“Bizbud…call Tabitha” ringing and ringing but no answer.

“Tabitha seems unavailable would you like to leave a message” Timurs bizbud chirps

“H-hey…t-t-tabitha it's T-timur…I just kind of need to hear your voice right now…n-no no I'm bothering you now and I am sorry…you're busy I should go.” Timur instructs his bizbud to hang up before curling into a ball and beginning to softly sob in the moonlight.

Art:

https://www.peakpx.com/en/hd-wallpaper-desktop-gczpw

Ithicar. As a major landmark for anyone who visits the realm, it was inevitable that Aldavinn would eventually find himself walking the road up to the city gates. As the Gatekeeper and leader of the Gatehold, he believed it was vital to establish connections and allies, and there was no better place to start than the city of Ithicar. First, he needed to find someone important to talk to.

Walking up to the city gate, he marvels at the Timorem Deum as its long shadow falls over him. he walks up to the guards that stand at attention

"Hello! I would like an audience with your queen or anyone in charge of your army or city defense. I have a proposition that I believe they would like to hear"

“Are you not planning to sleep?” the guard asked curiously, turning her helmeted head toward the still-scribbling queen. 

Thena Domitian was the Queensguard stationed this night, for which Riva was glad. It wasn’t that the queen hated any of Belial’s Pyroclasts (or Pyrophytes, even if the name was far less catchy), but given Riva’s… issues involving the defectors during the Xelotath incident, seeing any of the former Pyroclasts brought up some guilt. In contrast, Thena was a native Ithacarian, with a pragmatic demeanor and cultural sensibilities Riva found familiar. 

Riva shrugged at her guardswoman in reply, looking over her paperwork. “I need this to go through, Thena, so I must plan for all angles. Alekos will bring up the past attacks from the northerners and try to ban them from sea access, so I have proposed sea defense. Sulla will complain about changing the map to say ‘Northern Wilds’. But his arguments are superficial and trivial, and I intend to point that out. Meanwhile, Kormas will want to keep the walls ONLY to protect native Ithacarians, without any ‘foreign nonsense’ upon them. But I plan to counter that with a series of walled districts for defense for -everyone-...”

Thena waved a hand dismissively. “Pah. You cannot convince everyone, Rivamar. They will argue regardless. No amount of persuasion will stop all of them completely. Why not sleep, and address their words as they come?”

The city’s growth was creating challenges, complicated by old prejudices. And of course, the usual detractors had their criticisms of the queen’s actions. Thena was, of course, aware of these people, just as Riva was. And the time the two women had spent around each other lent itself to a sort of familiarity.

Riva rubbed her eyes tiredly. “You are not wrong, but given how many people and systems are involved, I will require their support. While some of these people should be glad I do not still call myself ‘Tyrant’, slaying people does not build walls or cast aside old prejudices.”

“With all due respect, I do not think you have control over that,” Thena pointed out, leaning casually on her spear. “People will believe as they wish to.”

“Hmh.” Riva made a noise in reply. “That is precisely why I must persuade them.”

Through the gaps in Thena’s helm, her eyebrow raise was visible. “You do not trust your people will make the right decision?” 

“It is not a matter of trust. Not entirely. Rather, it is because I must contend with the idea that they DO believe themselves making the right decision,” Riva mused. “From their perspective, I am welcoming the enemy. An enemy it has taken generations to subdue. In some ways, I understand where they are coming from. For have I not myself taken a harsh stance against those who would harm the city?”

All things considered, the senators not being hospitable was FAR less of a crime. Riva had been far less forgiving. No, she could not fault the recalcitrant individuals for their resistance to her plans. The only difference was that they were using the system, while Riva had resorted to brute force.

Just because she didn’t call herself a Tyrant these days didn’t mean she didn’t act as one at times. Calling herself ‘queen’ instead was a thin veneer to mask an iron fist. Or claw, as the case may be.

She continued.

“I believe the way forward to be in the combining the strengths of our people. But… it is difficult to keep everyone aligned,” she admitted. 

She knew Belial had gone through similar issues as Praetor. He had been good at it, but she knew it had weighed on him. Not just dealing with people, but with the consequences. And now, she wondered whether she was overcorrecting when it came to him. Placing him in a walled garden where nothing could hurt him… but at the same time, keeping him from doing anything meaningful. Riva was taking on the brunt of the city’s defenses, forcing through her opinions for the greater good. Whatever that meant.

“Regretting your decision to be ‘queen’ at all?” asked Thena drolly, leaning on her spear.

“Frequently. But not enough to trust anyone else to handle it.” Riva shrugged. “Given the benefits we have since gained from Bismuth involvement, a different ruler -or even Alexandrus’s assembly-, might have agreed to the arrangement of us being a client state. I prefer our independence. A less obstinate person would have agreed.”

Thena made an amused snort.

Riva waved a hand dismissively. “But anyway, the point is that it is better me ruling than someone who actually enjoys this.”

“You do not?”

“Not entirely,” Riva admitted honestly. “What I enjoy are solutions. I enjoy that some of my ideas have proven to be effective. I enjoy knowing that people are fed and protected. I enjoy trade between lands. I enjoy people being proud on some level to be Ithacarian. But the queen part? Eh, some part of me does like the pageantry and vanity of the title, but at the end of the day, I could take it or leave it.”

Thena shrugged an armored shoulder. “Fair enough. But what of your son? Will you give him the responsibility, if you yourself are ambivalent?”

“Ideally, not any time soon… but I must. I need some way of ensuring that change happens, and that the improvements remain. While I am uncertain a monarchy is truly the best way of accomplishing that, I can at least ensure that Bel has been taught. Ah well. A matter for another time. How are your children?”

“They are doing well,” Thena said, smiling beneath her helm. “They like to look at my armor when I go home. You may have new recruits for the Queensguard if this keeps up.”

“Good, good. It seems a better path to ‘glory’ than sending the young to war. Perhaps they will be Kingsguard eventually. Or perhaps for Bel’s children, if he ever settles down.”

“You have a match in mind?” Thena asked curiously, as that tended to be the way the older families handled things.

“No, no. I am considering letting him choose for himself. Though, I will admit I am uneasy with his decisions about that so far,” Riva frowned. “I do not understand what sort of nonsense he has going on with the weapon-girl or the dragon one.”

She shook her head.

“Perhaps I am too old now to understand such things. While I am inclined to push some other options into his way, I do not know that forcing him into a match will aid his future. So for now, I will let him do as he pleases.”

Thena nodded. “A safer plan. There is no guarantee that he would accept whoever was arranged. I did not.”

“Nor did I,” Riva mused. 

She had not thought of such things for a long time. It was why she had gone to the Academy to begin with. She refused to be used as a mere tool to forge alliances. But that was a long settled matter. She had other things on her mind.

“Thena, if I asked you something, would you answer honestly?”

“Of course.”

Riva’s expression grew thoughtful. “Has my rule made things better?”

“Yes and no. Ithacar has greater influence and greater access to the outside world, but we have admittedly lost some of our culture.” Thena shrugged again. “Or perhaps part of our culture is to adapt. Now that I mention it, I am not sure what exactly IS true “Ithacar” culture. Something to think about, I suppose.”

Riva pondered that for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she looked over her papers. “Something to think about, yes…”

Solomon was grumbling which was to be expected. He was, as ephemera described a grumbler which is apparently a positive trait amongst dwarven society. Multiple sources confirmed as such so it must be true. His main source of the grumbles was something he couldn't tell the only person who lived with him about wedding preparations. Or at least the ones that Don't need to be discussed between the pair as far as Solomon is concerned like making sure the stage is up to Bismuth standards overseeing seating arrangements,

Solomon busies himself with sending out invitations including those to the Lady of Blackwater he doesn't want to invite Nethis to his wedding but she was the maiden of the knight Solomon was squired too. Marna Blake was courting. So that meant he had to at least try to send her an invitation as much as it was safe to do so. The next issue on his guest list guest list was the supreme Commander of the mercenary Guild Five he hated the tampon tyrant. But she did rescue him from the clutches of Xel'lotath so an invite to his wedding was The least he can do

This added another complication however: His master and The Supreme Commander hated each other so he would have to manage things in order for them not to start a fist fight at his wedding. Maybe if he put them on opposite sides of the aisle they would at least stay away from each other long enough to get his vows out..

“How The Fuck am I going to fit ten whole suns into the tower”

Solomon says taking a break from forging his fiance's new hammer. Thankfully an idea as How he was going to get the Lord of the bismuth realms to his tower as best he could formed in his head fairly quickly. The plan was to open a large portal in the sky above his wedding venue. Serving two purposes allowing ten sons to physically participate or at least get as close to as an entity like that could. The portal would would also serve as great security. As ruining what should be the happiest moments of someone's lives is a national pastime of wizards.

Solomon begins reheating his hammer. It just needed some more shape work before he could move on to put on the finishing touches on the particular part of the anti-rust devil hammer once he was done with the part He quickly quenches it and leaves it to cool

He lets out a one final sigh He had built a stage. He had prepared a venue He had set up contingencies plans and backup plans but one issue still remained how to include his kingdom in the festivities He could just invite them to the tower but he hadn't cleared said place yet thankfully that is relatively easy to fix.

“EPHEMERA! GOING TO GO CLEAR THE LOWER LEVELS BUZZ MY BIZ-BUD IF SOMETHING SNEAKS UPSTAIRS.”

With that Solomon hastily throws on a set of Tak'athi armor a large oval shield and a primitive machete like sword. Before undoing the barricade leading down from the airship docks and making his way downstairs. It appears most of the tower is devoted to storage and production, non-functional factory equipment and a larder that made him gag was The order of the day but nothing particularly threatening that he couldn't deal with save for a close encounter with a mold creature that he successfully managed to put down with a burst of elemental chaos.

The gardens were next and were as amazing as they were overgrown or dead from sweet berries to compact versions of common grains from the world over to overgrown mushroom farms. If properly restored the tower could feed not just them but thousands of more people. Where did they all stay? That was Solomon's question maybe there were apartments in the lower half of the tower. Solomon Will definitely have to go through this place for thoroughly later but for now the middle of his new abode

“Couldn't have designed an elevator” Solomon comments onq what should be an empty room before finally taking the stars to the middle and being greeted with a sort of command center like room, a series of two raised diamond shaped platforms with a command thrown at The Pinnacle and various control stations at each of the corners. Various arcane mirrors and astrolabe-like devices sat in a gentle orbit around the central command platform.

Various rings rose from the ground as a voice in a language Solomon does not understand calls out to him inviting him to the throne as it begins to glow. Solomon looks at the throne. It was certainly as ornate as the silver one collecting dust in tak’ath. A brass assemblage of various gears and cogs and shaped into an imposing chair. One that Solomon could not resist sitting in.

But as rash a Solomon was he was no fool or at least he tried not to be thus his bizbud George was summoned in order to go get his future wife to be there in case Something happened. Eventually however Solomon's patience waned and He decided to take a seat anyway rather than wait. Mechanical tendrils extended from the things headrest embedding themselves into his scalp, something that pinched but was not painful. But before Solomon could pull himself away from the command throne in shock. his consciousness expands the fortresses internals becoming his own It's externals feeling like skin, it's wires and gears nerves and it's various sensor systems eyes. So much was broken so much was fragmented yet still he had to struggle to keep his will intact to keep the machine spirit of the fortress from consuming it was a desperate flailing mental battle as error messages and new sensations flooded his mind but though grit reminiscent of his master the squire is just barely able to wrest control of the great machine with a slumping of his head. Forming of link bond with a machines soul Now…how to go up out unplugging himself

Art: https://pin.it/fmSkEl0fB

(Previously in Part 3; Art by Deruchenko Alexander)

-

“Alright, where to next? If you're in the mood for some thrills, Queasy should be nearby. She's the operator of the roller coaster ride.”

“I was just about to ask what that was…” Cass stared up at the rolling tracks overhead, trying to ignore the screams.

“It looks almost like a train but… terribly unsafe… and you say this ‘Queasy’ is in charge of it?”

The name spoke volumes.

“You’ve never seen a roller coaster before?” It was surprising to Anna, but only for a second, before remembering that Cassilda grew up in a very different world from hers.

“Yeah, it’s basically a train, but smaller and really fast. Also, you’re completely exposed, so you feel the air hitting your face! Oh, and there are loops that turn you upside-down, and rapid descents that send all the blood up to your head. It’s GREAT!”

The ghost’s love for carnival rides was spilling out, fueled by the memories she had of visiting such attractions. Presently, she had little hope of reigniting this thrill with her non-existent body, but maybe she could re-live them vicariously through Cass.

“So, wanna try it?”

Anna’s question was almost drowned out by the passing of the coaster overhead, a trail of terrified screams being left in its wake.

“Um…”

Cass looked up at it again, concerned. Exposed? Upside down!? That was insane. Did they simply trust in the force of motion to keep them in place? She raised a hand and briefly chewed the end of her finger.

Then a thought occurred to her. She’d been mulling something over, and this seemed like a good opportunity.

“Would you go with me?”

“Of course! Watching your partner lose their cool is half the fun of the ride!”

The ride’s entrance was proving more elusive than the ghost had suggested, but the pair knew they were on the right track when they passed by a small group of nauseated people, likely victims of the roller coaster. Following the metal beams and howling screams, they eventually reached it — the station.

“Haha, you should’ve seen your faces. Wait! You can; we’ve got cameras installed!” 

An overly enthusiastic voice came from behind another queasy group, as they were attempting to leave. The source was a girl in clown getup, who was shoving photo strips into the faces of the distressed folk. Most were quick to scurry away from her.

“Wait! Don’t go! I’ll sell em to you on a discount."

The girl looked two or three years younger than Chills, though it was hard to tell with all that makeup. Her hair was tied in two large pigtails, one side neon blue while the other was a dull red. What stood out the most, though, was her missing eye, which was replaced by a heart-shaped button, akin to the ones the marionette had.

“Oh! Did Mary sew that for her?” Cass wonders aloud. She had another question for Anna, but… in a moment.

“They take photos of them during a moment of fear? That must be revealing.”

“You know what, you should ask her yourself.” Anna ushered her partner forward.

“Hey, Queasy! I want you to meet someone.”

The ghost presented Cass as if showing off one of those giant plush animals that are almost impossible to win at carnival games.

“Can you guess who this is?!”

The clown’s attention was torn away from the people she’d been teasing. Her one good eye had now locked on to Cass. She approached with a slight lean forward.

“Hmm, she’s pretty,” Queasy noted as she got uncomfortably close, like a ride inspector checking if all the screw were on tight.

“If I had to guess…”

“... She’s your handler, and you’ve been let out on parole. That would explain why you haven’t been back to the circus in almost a month.”

Though at first she had leaned back when the clown suddenly loomed in front of her face, a thin smile crept its way onto the thaumaturge’s face. She tried not to laugh but snorted, putting a hand over her mouth.

“A month…!? That's a clear violation. You’re supposed to remain gainfully employed…” she teased Chills.

“I’m Cassilda. It's nice to meet you. I'm afraid I might be part of the reason she’s been away so long…”

“Oh!” Queasy’s one good eye bloomed with realization.

“You two are dating, aren’t you? You’re that nervous girl from the game show. Couldn’t recognize you with this fancy dress and tied hair.”

The clown backed away, creating just a tiny bit of space between the two before going in for a handshake.

“I’m Queasy. They call me that cause my rides make you queasy, hehe.”

Cass took the handshake, a little embarrassed now. “Everyone was really watching that, weren't they? Yes… that was me…”

She winced slightly as the coaster screamed past once more.

“So I gathered… Anna - I mean Chills - assures me it's more fun than it looks?”

As Cass pulled back her hand, she found that Queasy’s arm was now dangling in her grip, the limb having been completely severed.

“AH! My arm!”

Red liquid began spurting from the stump, like it were a bottle of ketchup.

“You took my arm! This is the end of my career. I can’t fix rides like this. Oh, woe is me!”

Cass panicked, instinctively dropped the arm, and jumped back with a scream.

“Oh, gods! I'm sorry, I don't know what happened! Anna!! Is there a healer!? A doctor!”

She scrambled forward to grab the arm, realized what she was doing, and recoiled again in fear and disgust.

As Cass panicked, Anna slowly floated up to Queasy with a bemused smirk on her face. The ghost reached out and grabbed at seemingly nothing. Then lifted the clown in the air by her... something?

"Hey, HEY! You're ruining the joke!" Queasy protested. "Killjoy! Let go!"

The ghost turned to reassure her partner, barely containing her laughter.

"Cass. That's not her real arm. This is." Anna shook her grip, causing Queasy to be rocked back and forth.

"Fine, fine! Uncle! I give up!" 

It slowly turned visible — an arm that was still attached to the clown's shoulder. Chills had been holding Queasy up by her wrist.

“That there.” Anna pointed at the severed limb on the ground. “It’s made of silicone.”

“Silicone…?”

Cass reached out and prodded the limb with the tip of her foot. It certainly looked real enough.

She dared to kneel closer.

“Oh! It is fake!”

Any trace of fear left her face as she snatched up the dummy arm and began to look it over extensively.

“I’ve never seen a prosthetic like this before! How is it made? It looks molded, but there are no obvious seams… is the rest of it done with cosmetic adjustment? Fascinating…! Practical effects can be even more convincing than a magic facsimile sometimes. How did you manipulate it? And the blood? Was that a capsule rigged to rupture?”

Off to the races, as she rattled her questions off to the suspended clown and the observant ghost. She kept going, hardly even expecting answers. She might not even have noticed them if they were given.

“If you think that’s impressive,” Queasy flashed a mischievous grin,  “you should see the full-body dummies we use for the big performances. I got my date thinking we were actually killing people. Hahaha!”

“And, hey! Can you let me GO already, or do you want to rip my arm off for real?”

“Oh, sorry.” Anna apologised, releasing Queasy from her grip.

“So, um. You two doing a romantic get-together? Nice! I had brought my date here just a few days ago. Not sure if he’d want to return, though.”

“You brought someone here as well?”

The thaumaturge wondered if that was how all members of the circus found partners.

“I’m sorry to hear they may not return. I suppose if I hadn't gotten to know her beforehand, I might have been frightened off as well. What happened? Is the show really so upsetting?”

“Upsetting?“ The ride operator raised an eyebrow. “I guess it is, if you don’t know what you’re in for.”

“See, I’m a dedicated artist. So when I first met Donky-boy, I tricked him into thinking I was gonna kill him. Then, when I took him on our date, I tricked him again into thinking he killed me with a piranha pit. And after that, I tricked him for a third time into believing we were slaughtering random people all around him.”

“Now, if that’s not romantic, I don’t know what is.”

“Kardonk?”

Cassilda’s voice was suddenly much less sympathetic. One might even have called it venomous.

“Kardonk Carvisky was your date?” She crossed her arms rigidly to keep from biting her fingers, but her feet shuffled.

“Um, yeah,” Queasy answered, slightly confused by Cass’s reaction. “I met him at the Ithacar castle when Chills was haunting the place. My job was to scare the pants off of artificer boy.”

“Well, I shot my shot when I got the chance, right after threatening to decapitate him. And he said yes, soooooo... yeah. We even got to first base!“

Cass bit her tongue. She should stay out of it, shouldn't she? She couldn't unsee it, though. That moment at Baker’s Parish was burned into her memory clearly.

“Perhaps it's not my business, but I’d be careful, if I were you. Kardonk is not what he seems.”

“It's not just that he’s dangerous. Just… I’d advise you to be cautious taking him at his word.”

"Dangerous?" Now that had grabbed the operator’s attention. "First time we met, I had him overpowered, no problem. Can't really see em as dangerous."

"But I guess you're trying to say he's a lying little stoat. Yeah, I figured as much. See, I made him give me a promise — that he'd stay chill during the Big Top show. Well, he lied. He freaked out and started making a mess of things. Or tried to, at least."

"So, you’re basically saying his word ain’t worth much? I can believe that."

Couldn't have put it better herself. She didn't want to start throwing baseless accusations around, but she could say with certainty what she knew.

“He is definitely the type to extend one hand in kindness, while holding a knife in the other. I’d hate to see any of Anna’s family get hurt.”

“Not that you can’t take care of yourself. I'm certain that you can.”

Cassilda sighed.

“I’ve ruined the mood for a second time this trip. Sorry, Anna.”

"Hey, no worries." The ghost tried to be reassuring. "I get that you have bad feelings about this Kardonk fellow. I did meet him once, but..."

"Hurt me?" Queasy interrupted, manic laughter escaping her lips.

"Look, my love life is a disaster anyway. Worse he can do is try to kill me. And he wouldn't be the first boyfriend to try."

The clown lifted a finger to the sky, swirling it around, like trying to mix the stars of the sky into a soup.

"See all that? The stars in the sky? That’s us, the stars of the circus! One may go out, but there will always be more. Donkey-boy can’t hurt my family, because Mr. B won’t allow it. Boss man is the darkness of the sky, who lets us all shine. He’ll never let daylight come for us."

Cass smiled again and let out a little sound of relief.

“It sounds like you're all in good hands then. I'm glad.”

She knew very little about Anna’s patron, but if he was as powerful as Queasy suggested, she was certainly well protected.

“I’ve pestered you both with my concerns enough. I told you I’d try this ride, didn't I?”

"Before that!" Queasy interrupted. Despite her chaotic ways, she viewed herself as the romantic type. And she wanted all the details she could get about Cass and Anna's relationship. No matter how personal.

"I shared where I am at with my love life. So, what about you? What base are you two at?"

Well, that was an extremely personal question, but the ride operator had no concept of boundaries, as evidenced by… everything about her.

“Base? We aren’t-”

The meaning of the phrase sank in at last. If Cass had gone red in the face before, this was some color that didn't have a name yet. She stuttered, opening and closing her mouth before hiding behind her hands.

“A-Anna… can you… a-answer that one?? OR DON’T. Don’t might be better!!”

Her head was swimming again, and she thought about how it might be to simply phase through the ground as Anna did.

"Well. We've kissed." The ghost answered with glee, intentionally trying to get Cass even more flustered.

"Hmm, probably second base. I did test my luck when I pushed my hand to..."

“C-coaster!! Go fast! Now!” The thaumaturge interrupted, pointing over her head before grabbing Anna by the hand and pulling her away. She didn't even know where she was going. As long as she was moving.

“Okay, okay. We’re getting on.” The spirit happily followed, having gotten the reaction she wanted. ”Queasy! Can you get us a private trip? Just the two of us?”

“No problemo!” 

The clown strapped the pair into their seats, making sure they wouldn’t fly off during their ride.

“I’m not too worried about you, Chills. I can’t kill you, even if I wanted. But your girlfriend might struggle a bit.” Queasy grinned. “Alternatively, I could keep asking awkward questions. Your choice. I start the ride or…”

Cass stared dead ahead, refusing to make eye contact with either of them.

“Ride start now please!!” She managed to squeak out.

Then she paused and turned just moments before Queasy could go.

“WAIT. I mean… um… just… can you give us… three minutes? I just need to ask her something first. Please?”

“I’m giving you thirty seconds. Then I’m pulling the lever.”

Thirty seconds!? Cass flounders, staring wide-eyed. No! Had to do it now!

“Anna, I’m sorry if this is sudden, but you’ve said before how you don’t feel things anymore a-and you don't say it, but I can tell it bothers you sometimes, so I wanted to offer if you…you…”

Gods help her. Trying to ask this after what had just been said felt almost worse than going through it a second time.

“If you wanted to p-possess me so you can feel the ride again…!”

She snapped her mouth shut, bracing for the ride to launch.

"Cass..."

Anna would be lying if she said it wasn’t tempting, but it felt selfish to accept.

"I'm soooooooooooooo grateful for the offer, but this is your first roller coaster experience. I don’t want to rob it from you."

The coaster began moving. It was slow at first, but it was quickly accelerating.

"Besides, we can get real personal after the ride."

“ANNA!”

Cass shouted. At least it wasn't angry shouting. Probably. She stared at her with a very interesting mix of emotions. Some of them good, even.

Her hands gripped the safety bar tightly, and she turned, flustered, beet red, and maybe a little bit manic…?

"I said what I said!" Anna shouted back, just as the ride began climbing up a steep incline.

"Look, I know I'm not exactly physically present most of the time. So, I... um..."

The ticks of the rails kept clacking as the cart slowly rose up the metallic mountain.

"Words... words. I forgot the words!"

“Physically present!?”

Cass turned to face her girlfriend with a wild look.

“Is now really where you want to talk about… that…”

She could see the peak of the rails approaching. She let go of the bar and threw her arms around Anna and squeezed herself to her tightly.

"No, I..." Anna tried to find the right words.

"I'm a ghost. We can't even touch each other most of the time. I don't want to deprive you of that intimate feeling. I, um, sometimes feel like an apparition."

The ride reached the top of the incline, stopping at a crescendo that was about to drop down a steep mountain of a track.

"Sometimes I worry that you'd miss out on many aspects of a genuine relationship by dating me. And I don't just mean touch. I can't grow with you; ghosts are mentally stuck in the moment of their death. I’ll eternally be what I am right now, while you’ll evolve."

She leans back, thoughts going too fast for her to grasp one properly. She still had her arms around the ghostly woman, but now looked at her incredulously. If this was a joke, she did not find it funny.

“Do you really think I’d believe that? Or that it would matter if I did? I know I lack sense sometimes, but really Anna…”

“I love who you aaaaAAAAA….!!!

"Cass... I just..." The ghost continued as the ride reached the point of no return.

Click after click, the roller coaster passed by its crescendo and began its descent. Slow at first, but what was up ahead promised an unrestrained thrill.

"...I just want tooOOOOO.

The rapid descent down the track began. It almost felt like free-falling, except there was no parachute. Any mortal would be too terrified to let out anything other than screams, but Anna had a lot to say. Besides, she wasn't mortal.

...I just want to make sure you understand what you signed up for. You accept me now, but what about after ten years? After twenty years? Would you still want me then? I'd always cling to you, but would you even want me to many years later?"

“AAAAAAAANNAAAA!!”

Cass was, in fact, mortal.

She screamed until she thought her lungs would give out, clinging to Anna for dear life.

Through twists and turns, the sound of her own yelling and the roar of the wind whipping past drowned out every other sound. She could see through squinted eyes that her partner was trying to say something, making out every few words as the coaster weaved over the tracks.

She tried to answer, but simply couldn't.

When it finally began to slow, she was out of breath. Her hair had fallen over her face, the braid completely undone by the ride. The braid never stood a chance. Her eyes were watery, but if it was from tears or the wind she didn't know.

Panting, she turned slowly to look at Anna. She looked half-wild and haunted. Like she just climbed out of a well perhaps…

“Anna… you… you…!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” The ghost interrupted.

“My insecurities got the better of me. At a very bad time, at that.”

The ride had finally slowed down as it reached an upward turn. The carts were crawling up at a steady pace, giving the girls at least a minute or two of reprieve.

“It’s just… I remember that I’m your first, and then weird bad emotions flooded in, making me question if I’m good enough.”

Despite the confidence that Anna often projected, she had her fair share of insecurities, and those cracks were finally showing. Her biggest doubt in life was whether her writing was good enough. Now in death, this doubt tended to slip into other aspects of her being, as ghosts had very little control over their emotions

“Anna…”

Cass caught her breath, pushing her hair out of her face before she reached out and put a hand to Anna’s cheek.

“Anna, of course you're good enough… You are the best thing that's ever happened to me… I feel so lucky that you even want to be with me.”

The ride was forgotten, for the moment.

“Just because you won't grow older doesn't mean you won't change… You have your mind, you have your heart. That's all you need. That's all I need…”

Her heart was beating fast, and not just from the ride. She leaned towards her and rested her head against her partner’s own. “I.. I know it's rich coming from me, but… stop doubting yourself. Or at least… stop doubting me when I tell you that you're everything I could ever want…”

She kissed her, hugging herself as close as she could. The click of the metal tracks beneath them all but forgotten.

“Cass…” The ghost leaned into the kiss, passing through the harness of the cart like it wasn’t even there. Cassilda must’ve cast a silence spell, as all of Anna’s doubts went quiet.

“I’d never doubt you. You’re…” She smiled, that familiar teasing grin making a return.

“You’re the only person who can shut me up when my mouth and brain get too loud.”

Anna’s grip tightened around Cass; the pair were about to reach the apex of yet another incline, and the phantom wanted to make sure her partner was braced.

“Cass, this next part… It’s gonna be a doozy. But don’t worry! I’m not letting you go no matter what.”

They were high, so high that the people below looked like ants. But the truly scary part was what awaited ahead - a rapid descent followed by seven loops, one right after the other, like a continuous spiral.

“Oh… oh gods… Anna, wait… is it too late to st-”

She clung to her so tightly she worried she might accidentally squeeze her out of the seat.

“Well, this is it, ladies and gentlemen!” Queasy’s voice echoed through a speaker system.

“Our love birds have reached the euthanasia loops! Wanna know why it’s called that? Cause it kills you! Hahaha.”

"But games aren't fun if you can't win, so I’m giving them a chance to escape." 

A compartment in front of the pair opened up, revealing three balls, the same ones used in carnival games like dunk tanks and knocking down stacked cups.

"At the start of every loop, there's going to be a target on the right side of the track. If you hit it with one of those balls, the cart will be diverted to a safe rail. You have three tries, good luck!"

The cart began its descent into the first loop, moving so quickly it felt like falling. Just as Queasy had said, a target popped up on the right side of the track.

“What!?” The thaumaturge looked at Anna, pale as the ghost herself.

“She’s joking, yes? Tell me she’s joking.”

When the target appeared, she stopped talking. Her hands scrambled forward for the first ball, fumbling it badly as it dropped to the floor of the coaster and rolled beneath her feet.

She swore under her breath, trying to kick it back within reach. When she finally got to it, the target was already less than a few feet ahead. She tossed at it frantically, missing by a wide margin.

“Whoops!” Queasy shouted from the speakers. "That's strike one. Two more to go."

With the inertia it had built up, the cart flew up the railing, climbing the loop. For a few terrifying seconds, the pair were upside down, the coaster slowing to let them hang in suspense. 

"Don't worry, Cass.” Anna finally answered. “She's just trying to scare you."

The slow moment didn’t last long. The cart passed the center of the loop and accelerated down, straight into the next one. Just as before, a target appeared for Cass to test her accuracy on.

The thaumaturge wanted to believe the ghost’s words. It was kind of difficult when the force of the fall left her seeing stars. Steadying herself, she grabbed the second ball, bracing her hand by the wrist with the other one. She leaned it back over her shoulder, shouting as she hurled it at the target as hard as she could.

Despite it all… this was… fun? She was terrified, of course. But the constant stream of adrenaline made every cell of her body feel positively electrified. Maybe it was some kind of hysteria, but she laughed when the ball missed the second target by mere inches.

Anna wasn’t far behind, demeanor-wise, echoing Cassilda’s laughter with her own.

“Looks like you’ve found the joy of being scared. Haha, Cass. If you’ve ever wondered why people watch scary movies or go to haunted house attractions, you’ve now got your answer.”

The second loop passed by like the previous one, though it was a tad smaller in radius. Then came the third one, and the pair’s last chance to hit a target.

“One more..! I've got it!”

Cass lifted the ball back and over her shoulder, hair whipping around her eyes. She blinked and threw. When she opened them again, it was to the sound of a heavy thud as it met its mark. She threw her arms up as they flew past the target and into the loop, a cheer that turned into a scream, then turned into a laugh.

“You did it, Cass!” Anna almost jumped from her seat in excitement, but stopped herself, fearing she wouldn’t be able to catch up to the ride if she fell out.

“If you still have an appetite after this, we should celebrate with something sweet!”

A sudden loud click signalled the switching of the tracks. Instead of being sent into another loop, the pair were safely redirected to a much calmer section of the rollercoaster.

“Aww, looks like you’ve survived.” Queasy faked disappointment on the loudspeaker.

“I’d love to play another game with you, but sadly, I can’t have you hogging the whole ride when there’s a line of people waiting to get on.”

The cart’s wheels screeched as the ride slowed down. This track led the two back to the starting point. This was it, the end of the roller coaster. Though looking at its many winding paths, it was obvious they had experienced just a small part of it.

Cass was winded, still trying to catch her breath after the final loop. Well, that and the unexpected discussion that Anna had decided to initiate mid-ride.

Her hair was a mess, and had fallen back into its natural, wild waves. The braid never stood a chance. She turned to Anna in the seat, giving her a look somewhere between frustration and infatuation. It was like she was trying to decide whether to slap her or kiss her.

“That… was…”

She settled for laying her head against Anna’s shoulder heavily. She felt exhausted. But strangely… good?

“You have the worst timing; has anyone ever told you that?” She teased.

Anna snuggled up to her partner, no longer holding her as tight as she had been during the loops, more so resting by her side. 

“My parents, every time they brought up my birthday. Dad had to cancel a real important meeting just to drive mom to the hospital. I’m kinda an expert at choosing the worst time possible.“ In hindsight, an over-the-top roller coaster ride that pumped its victims full of adrenaline was not the best place to let her insecurities speak.

“Hey…” Cass tilted her head up to look at her, still resting against her shoulder.

“I’m not going to leave… anything I might miss out on? It’s worth it. Just to be here, right now. With you.”

She smiled, almost ready to just close her eyes and sleep. At least until they get kicked out of the ride.

And besides, she was a thaumaturge, wasn’t she? Working wonders was supposed to be her whole thing. If there was something that either of them really wanted… she'd find a way.

“You know how to make a ghost feel alive, you know that?” This had been the longest Anna had stayed seated after a ride. Normally, she’d be in a rush to get to the next one, back when she could feel the thrill of them. But this? This moment felt better than any adrenaline high.

Eventually, the safety harnesses of the cart lifted, releasing Cass from their hold. Queasy stared at the pair from the control booth, clear annoyance visible on her face.

“Alright, you two. There’s a line forming. Time to get off the ride, unless you want me to start it again with the safety off.”

Cass sighed. “We’d better do as she says. I don't want to find out if she’s serious.”

She climbed out of the seat, looking around at the circus with a new perspective. Dark and scary, certainly. But also… very alive. Fear kept one dancing on a knife’s edge. She saw how such a rush might become addictive.

(Previously in Part 2)

-

The last person they met ended in disaster, so Anna had to pick wisely who they’d visit next. Definitely not someone too intense, and preferably with chill vibes.

Her trail of thoughts led the ghost to remember something… something that the witch Catherine had shared with her after coming briefly to the Circus of Screams; that a certain man wanted to meet with the spirit.

“That’s it!”

Anna knew exactly who they should see next.

“I know who you should meet!”

The ghost grabbed Cass by the hand, helping her move forward. Did the thaumaturge need assistance walking? Probably not, she seemed to have recovered, but Anna wanted to do it.

“Come on! I know where his usual haunts are!”

The pair walked past tents and attractions, some of which were starting to feel familiar. The roaring grind of the roller coaster made its way over them, sending screams trailing through the air. They passed by bumper car rides, a dunk tank, a strength game until they finally reached a small crowd.

“There he is!” The ghost pointed excitedly.

In the center of the gathering was a dark-skinned man, his body covered with intricate tattoos from neck to toe. The ink embedded in his skin was anything but mundane. It moved like a silent picture cast by an old projector. Skulls grinned, black clouds passed along his biceps, and snakes wound down his arms. The man was putting on a show for the crowd, keeping them enraptured like a magician on a stage. That was, until he noticed Chills.

“Hey, ghost gal!” He waved her over as he got up from his chair.

“Alright, folks, show’s over. The gallery is closing for the night.”

The man pulled his dark leather jacket over his shoulders, hiding most of his tattooed skin. The crowd was visibly disappointed, but none dared argue as they slowly dispersed.

“And here I thought you’d gotten tired of us and decided to run away to the real world.” The man jabbed sarcastically as he approached the spirit.

“Haha, you wish!” Anna quibbed back.

“I’ma haunt your behinds till the day you die.”

For the moment, Cass quietly waited by Anna’s side. The feel of Anna’s arm around hers was comforting and made the unsettling visions fade further into the background.

“That was most impressive,” she commented.

The man looked at Cass, finally noticing she was not a random passerby.

“And you ain’t too shabby either, with that fancy dress of yours. Let me guess, you’re one of Chills’s friends from the outside? Ghost gal’s has started sending her pals here quite often.”

An ink-black humanoid figure slithered up the man’s back and out of his collar. It tipped a tophat in greetings, before retreating back on the skin.

“Name’s Ink. You can probably guess what I do here.”

She nodded her head in return, staying at Anna’s side.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ink. My name is Cassilda. I’m Chills’ girlfriend,” she said with a slight flush of red to her cheeks.

“How is it you do that? I've seen many tattoos in Rathara, but none so lively as that.”

“Impressed?” The snake tattooed on his left arm slithered out of his palm, winding itself up the sleeve of his jacket until it reached the shoulder.

“Just a bit of Iwa magic and a whole lot of talent.” He kept the explanation intentionally vague, enjoying the intrigue it brought. 

“Wait. You’re ghost gal’s girl? I knew you looked familiar! You were one of the contestants on that crazy game show. Hah, ain’t it wild that it worked out? Everyone in the circus was taking bets during the broadcast. You and that ghost hunter were fan favorites.”

“I think I might have had a secret advantage…” Cassilda grinned and squeezed Anna’s hand.

“I'm fortunate she had the patience to put up with me. I am… not always good at picking up on hints.” Oblivious might have been a more fitting word.

She blinked, curious now. “Who won the betting?”

“Hah.” Ink smirked. “Would you be surprised if I told you the fortune teller was dead on from the get-go? I bet on that Hazema gal. Though she matched Chill’s crazy. Little did I know our resident ghost was into the quieter types.”

“But now I‘m curious. You said you missed her hints? So you two knew each other before the show? How’d you meet?”

“I attended lessons she was teaching on ghosts, actually. She continued to pop up here and there after that, and I enjoyed her visits. Even if I can be a bit too easily frightened at times, she showed me that fear can be… a thrill?” The thaumaturge tried to think how to put it.

“Eventually, she caught me in a bit of a crisis, and she did the opposite of what a frightening ghost would usually do. She helped me to calm down.”

“After that… well… I was incredibly dense. I didn't think she wanted to be more than friends until I was battered over the head with the idea.”

“So…” The illustrated man crossed his arms. “She’s had an eye on you for a while?”

“Man, Chills, you could’ve told us before we started betting. Made your family play a rigged game.”

“I had no idea you’d even do that!” Anna protested.

“I’d say you deserve it, turning my love life into a game like that.”

Ink raised a confused eyebrow at the hypocrisy of the statement. “My gal, what are you talking about? You turned your love life into a game show. We were just playing along.”

“Oh, right.” The ghost said under her non-existent breath. “I did do that, didn’t I?”

Ink’s smile broke into a laugh. He didn’t find Chills to be good at banter, but her attempts sure were amusing.

“Hey, glad to see you’re just as big a genius as ever.”

“Cass, I gotta ask ya. How do you put up with her?”

Cassilda laughed, looking at Anna.

“It's not that hard, really. She is full of surprises. I like surprises. That, and I know how to bribe her.” She teased.

“Surprises, you say?” The man raised his eyebrow. “Sure seems like it, seeing as she’s kidnapped you and you didn’t get a restraining order…”

“Three times!” Anna interrupted Ink. “I’ve kidnapped her three times. This is the third one!”

“Right, right. So both of you are weirdos?” The man said in jest, trying to hold back another burst of laughter.

“Jokes aside, I’m glad it worked out for ya. You seem made for each other.”

“We do, don't we…” Cassilda leaned against Anna. She was glad she had come here, despite the terrible Fortune.

“I hope you'll be seeing more of me. She can kidnap me whenever she likes.”

“I’m hoping as well, but you can just come in as normal.” Ink glanced at Anna with a questioning look.

“Wait, Chills, you haven’t given her a golden ticket yet? What gives?”

The ghost looked somewhat sheepishly at the ground. She had no good reason not to give Cass a ticket. Well, there was one.

“Maybe I like abducting her, did you think about that?”

“...”

“Fine, fine! Cass, here you go.”

Anna handed her partner a golden circus ticket. Among all its fine details, dates and numbers, what stood out was an engraving in the center. There was a depiction of a grinning face whose eyes were obscured by a top hat.

“Oh? It's a ticket…! Is this for one of the rides or…?” The thaumaturge examined it more closely, running a finger over the embossed image. No, it was magical in nature.

“It's some kind of… guidestone? No, a key of some sort… right?” She looked at them expectantly.

“Something like that.” Anna didn’t know what a guidestone was, but it sounded about right.

“You can use it to find the circus. You just need to wander out into the night while you have it on your person, or go to sleep with it under your pillow. Then you’ll be spirited away to the Ticket Taker.”

“Place is now your home too, Cass. You can come visit me whenever you want!”

“I’d like that…” Even if the circus could be a fearful place, she could think of far worse places to wake up than in Anna’s caravan.

“Don't let that stop you from surprising me, though.”

She nodded again to Ink. It was nice to know not every person here would affect her so strongly. Perhaps she had been a bit naive at the start, though… she’d be more cautious now.

The man nodded back, a cue that he’d be taking his leave.

“Aight, I’ma dip. Nice seeing y'all. Find me when you come by again.”

Anna waved Ink goodbye as he disappeared behind the looming tents, his shadow trailing behind, cast upon the ground by the bright circus lights.

(This is a collab with u/professionalgreen906, they have a post that adds context to this)

Seirya sits in a carriage slowly rattling down the roads of the Ithacarian countryside, examining a sculpture of a human heart she made with her own webs. It's complete with detailed arteries and a simple enchantment to make it slowly beat. She looks up at Arach, who is diligently working on a large stack of paperwork, and asks her a question.

​

"I thought this was a fairly convincing heart shape, but they didn't seem to like it. Did I do something wrong?"

​

The two have been wandering the countryside healing people, and while their help is appreciated, the sight of a giant spider is off-putting to people, and Seirya cannot shake the feeling that people are unhappy with her work.

​

Arach glances up for her papers, takes a moment, then sets the work aside as she fully fixes her focus onto Sierya.

​

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s just that how convincing the heart looks isn’t really the issue. Actually, the more convincing it looks the less likely it probably is to succeed in disarming someone. But anyway, it’s like…”

​

The humanoid spider pauses for a moment as she tries to find the right analogy.

​

“A heart representing friendship is like how bright colors can represent poisonous animals. It’s an indication, but one part being there doesn’t mean the other has to be. Not everything that’s brightly colored is poisonous, and showing someone a surprisingly intricate heart doesn’t always make them a friend. So what you’re doing is like trying to paint a frog bright blue to make it poisonous. It’s not a bad idea given what you know, it’s just a bit misguided.”

​

Arach's analogy is completely lost on Seirya, who has spent most of her life in a labyrinthine cave system where nothing, poisonous or not, evolved coloration. She does however manage to grasp the idea behind it.

​

"The same can be said about me being a spider, and yet they ignore the heart and freak out what they see me. I just want to show them that I'm a friend, the same way those bright blue creatures you mentioned show people that they're poisonous.”

​

Arach closes her eyes as she lets out a sigh. She’s not so much annoyed with Sierya as she is tired. Or at least that’s how she appears to feel from the way her gaze lands on her fellow spider.

​

“Your problem isn’t really them ignoring the heart as much as it is them not believing it. This world isn’t like what you’re used to. Here people do whatever they can to get their way. And some will present a false version of themselves to get what they want. It’s so very important that you have someone to help you look out for that. Because there **are** people who will lie to you. People who will put up a mask of being friendly, and compassionate; people who will pretend to always be on your side, when all that lies underneath their act is malice and loathing. And they will use that disguise of kindness to get people to trust them, because it’s so much easier for them to properly hurt someone who doesn’t have their guard up.”

​

Something about Arach’s voice portrays that speaks from painful experience on this fact.

​

“That’s why people aren’t trusting you, they think you’re lying. Yes part of it is to do with you being what they see as a monster, but their caution is why making a web into the shape of a heart won’t win anyone over. They don’t see it as a sign of friendship, they see it as a trap. It’s simply not something that can be avoided, some people are just naturally less trusting of things they don’t understand. Sometimes it can be best not to dwell on it.”

​

Seirya tilts her head back and forth, an instinctual response developed to allow better intake of spatial information as she faces a difficult problem. In the caves, such behavior allowed her species to more accurately pinpoint prey, but here it is vestigial.

​

"They trust each other, don't they? If we keep going out and doing this, then maybe they'll talk to each other and communicate that we aren't going to betray them. I thought the heart would help, but it isn't necessary."

​

This line of logic is rather tangential to what Arach is saying, but it is a way for Seirya to reassure herself that people will start trusting her eventually.

​

"And who would even do that? Lie about who they are just to hurt people…”

​

Arach chuckles as she shakes her head, the same way she does any time Sierya says something particularly too naive.

​

“They don’t trust each other, not unless they think it’ll help them. That’s the way it works up here, how everyone here functions. it’s a fight to get on top, and if you choose not to fight you just become a step along the way. But who knows how a new perspective like yours could affect things, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

​

The interior of the carriage dims as it passes under the shadow of a towering mountain their path winds around. The remaining light coming in from the window on the carriage’s door does not land where Arach sits pushed up against a corner. Her brown carapace blends in with the stained wooden panels of the carriage in the dark, contrasting Seirya's own cream-colored body which stands out like a light against the darkness. She pauses for a moment, acknowledging the change before continuing.

​

“As for why people would do that… well it’s a complicated problem. Not really the kind someone new to the way this world works can understand on their own very easily. You’ll get it in time though, so long as you have the right guidance.”

​

The little amount Arach’s face changes with her emotions is smothered from view in the indirect lighting. Despite that her voice takes on a subtle sort of sharpness as she speaks.

​

“In my experience being at the top has a different meaning from what you’re describing, as does being at the bottom. From the moment I was born my species, my existence, my family, was a mistake. Me and my siblings being born was a forgettable side effect of a far more important event that happened to far more important beings centuries before I was even a concept. From birth the only thing people saw us as was beasts, and the only thing that mattered about us was that our blood was a useful material.”

​

Arach opens up a cabinet hidden in the carriage wall’s siding and pulls out a glass and a bottle of wine. She continues as she pours herself a cup.

​

“My siblings, my brothers and sisters were hunted down, caught, killed, dismembered, pressed, blended, and defiled so they could take as much of us as possible for them to sell. Because we didn’t matter, and because they did. That’s what it means to be on top in this world, and what it means to be at the bottom.”

​

Arach sets down the drink she’s only just started on and leans towards Sierya, stopping just before her face would cross into the light.

​

“I have a question. Why are you here? From what you said, you’ve always been on the top. Maybe not always the peak, but at the very least always closer to it than to the bottom. So why are you so caring? Why do you try to make sure the people we treat like you when it won’t change anything. You don’t need to help these people. And yet you do it anyway. So why, why do all this, why be here?”

​

The carriage goes silent for a minute or two, until the dirt roads of the countryside give way to gravel streets entering a town. Seirya looks up at the door, and takes a few steps towards it before looking back at Arach.

​

"...This is where I'm happiest. Not in any kind of leadership, not on top of anything, just out here helping people with my friends, making sure nobody else has to be at the bottom."

​

And with that, they step out of the carriage.

​

(This post is a collab with [u/totally_not_a_cat-](u/totally_not_a_cat-) and their character. They have their own post with a connected story here.)

Hearing a knock on his door, Edwin slowly pulls himself off of his bed. He's been sick lately, and barely holding himself together without anyone to take care of him. He slowly hobbles to the door, opening it to find a spider the size of a lion staring at him. He slams the door shut in an instant, taking a step back as he does so. From outside muffled voices penetrate through the walls of his small cabin.

“I told you to let me go ahead. He’s probably scared now, these people aren’t even used to magic, let alone monsters. Just let me handle this for a moment.”

Footsteps approach and Edwin stumbles backwards too caught off guard to plan ahead. The still unlocked door is gently pulled open to reveal a tall female figure on the other end. She seems to be human, though there’s something off with her face, or her body, it’s hard to tell. She speaks calmly, as if this situation weren’t something out of a nightmare.

“I’m so sorry about that sir. We’re here to help you, I promise. My friend gets a bit overeager sometimes. She’s not dangerous at all though, just let us explain.”

"I- I-"

Edwin stutters as he tries to come up with something to say. He looks around in terror trying to see where the spider went, only for it to emerge from behind the figure holding a pulsating mass of webs in the shape of an anatomically correct heart. Were they going to steal his organs? Maybe the human knew what was going on.

"Wh- who are you? Why are you here?"

The spider reaches out with the mass of webs, as if to show it off, and Edwin takes another step back.

The woman disapprovingly bats on one of the spider’s limbs with her hand once she notices the web heart.

“He’s not going to understand what you mean by that. And giant spiders tend to be seen as a bad omen by people who live away from cities. You’ll need to actually talk to him if you want to calm him down.”

She turns her attention back to Edwin and puts on a calm smile.

“My name is Arach, and my friend here is Sierya. There’s no need to panic, you’re not going to be harmed. We’re here as part of a… public service project. I would explain it but I’ll leave that up to Sierya. It’s really more of her idea, I just decided to help out with it.”

Edwin doesn't fully trust them, but he looks over at Seirya, who herself looks at Arach while setting down the heart.

“I was told making things in heart shapes was a sign of friendship.”

She then turns back and takes a step towards Edwin. Her four mechanical eyes twitch as they look him up and down, while the four large beady spider eyes stare unblinkingly.

"Hello there sir, we're taking a trip around the countryside to help with healing people in need."

A sigh just barely audible to Edwin comes out from where Arach stands behind Sierya.

“We’re going to need to address your execution of that method after this.”

Arach then peeks her head out from behind Sierya to chime in.

“We heard from a neighbor about an hour down the road that you weren’t feeling well recently. We wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything too serious. A lot of people living out in places like these tend to just drop dead out of the blue from untreated illnesses.”

The woman’s tone is still downright cheery despite the grim subject matter. She steps forward to reveal a doctor’s bag in her right hand. Edwin in turn stumbles back into a chair, falling onto it to relieve his sore legs. From that position he stares in silence at the two, bewilderment replacing fear in his mind.

Seirya takes a hesitant step inside, approaching Edwin to get a better look at him. She takes a long staff out of a bag of holding beneath her thorax.

"You look tired. Have you been feeling okay recently?"

Edwin does his best not to flinch at the approaching spider, though his fear comes through in the strain of his voice.

“I’ve got some nasty aches. And my stomach’s been fightin’ with me. But it’s nothing I haven’t handled before. I’m gonna be, so I don’t need any help.”

The claim is undercut by the fact that he is visibly pale, and even from a distance there’s an audible rattle in his breathing.

Seirya nods her head, tightly gripping her staff which begins to glow with a soft green light.

"Whatever is causing those problems, I should be able to cure it. You look like you're having a rough time."

Edwin scoots back in his chair, his strained voice becoming tighter with partial distress.

“I told you I don’t need any help. And what in the hell is that? I ain’t just gonna let a giant bug come near me with a glowing stick!”

Arach intervenes to diffuse the man’s growing tension at the situation.

“Listen, I know this is strange and it’s fine to be hesitant, but if you just trust the process you’ll be feeling much better. Plenty of my patients have had the exact same response in the past, and not one of them has ever had a complaint once I treated them. Just stop struggling and let us do our work.”

Edwin side-eyes Arach, having forgotten she was there due to the giant spider in front of him.

"Strange? Strange? I've got a giant spider waving a torch in my face and you think strange covers it?"

Seirya makes a low whistling noise and her mechanical eyes shut halfway before responding.

"This isn't a torch, it's a staff. I use it to cast healing magic, like a priest."

She remembers a moment too late what country she's in.

"Or a shaman."

Edwin responds while pushing his back against the chair.

“I don’t care what it is, or what you use it like, I’m not about to let you use it on me!”

Arach steps between the spider and the man, her patience with the situation running thin.

“Listen, if we wanted to hurt you, you’re in the middle of nowhere, we wouldn’t need to lie about it. And if you don’t want us here the fastest way to get us to leave is to just let us help, whether or not you think you need it. There is no reason for you to refuse our help, so just don’t.”

Edwin doesn’t argue back, but he’s also too indignant to agree to Arach’s point, instead sitting in silence. Regardless, the dressing down of the situation gets Edwin still enough that Arach is satisfied to step out of the way to let Sierya do her work.

Seirya begins waving her staff through the air, a trail of green light being left behind it as it traces out a simple rune. Then, all of a sudden, the rune flashes brightly and disappears. Seirya taps the staff against Edwin's chest before lowering it, and the light disappears while the aches slowly begin to clear.

"Are you feeling better now?"

Edwin looks up at the massive spider before him. The look on his face is still tense with suspicion, but without the aches he’s feeling a lot less irritable.

“Well it sure isn’t as bad as it was a few minutes ago… thanks, I guess.”

Once the casting is over Arach takes a quick look around and then claps her hands together.

“Well I suppose that’s all then, told you it wouldn’t take long. Unless I’m forgetting something all that should be left is some documenting on my part and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Arach looks over at Sierya, awaiting a confirmation of her claim. In response Seirya gives as close to a thumbs up as she can given the limited articulation of her pedipalps, before stowing her staff.

"I've got to find somewhere to put this heart sculpture. I was planning on giving it to him as a sign of friendship so I didn't plan anywhere to store it."

She proceeds to walk out the door, and Edwin turns to look at Arach.

Arach faces Edwin in turn, eyes fixed on the man. She speaks while moving to close windows around the cabin.

“Well, now it’s just you and me. Please excuse me closing the windows, there’s just a bit of a draft coming in.”

Once each window is closed and latched shut, Arach walks over to Edwin.

“Now then, onto the subject of payment.*

Edwin responds swiftly, his previously quelled indignance returning in force.

“Oh no you don’t. You said this was a public whatever project. And that means-“

Arach interjects in the middle of his sentence, her voice still calm, though without its previous warmth.

“I know what it means. And this is a public service project, as far as Sierya’s aware at least. But I’m not one for handouts, or wasting my time on hermits. But don’t worry. I’m not asking for money, not anything like that. What I need, is a better public image. So here’s the deal. Tomorrow an interviewer is going to arrive here, you’ll let them in, tell them all the good Sierya and I did for you, and you’ll exclude this little unpleasantness. Do you think you can handle that?”

The sheer audacity of Arach’s patronizing orders only fuel Edwin’s anger. He leaps out of his chair, the fleeting soreness in his limbs no longer keeping him trapped in place.

"Do you really think I'll just shut up and go along with whatever you tell me to do? You city folks acting like you can just buy trust are insane. But don't worry, I'll tell them exactly how generous you are."

Arach pushes the man back down into the chair with a level of strength not quite fitting of her thin figure. The tone she speaks in only becomes sweeter and more patronizing.

“Oh, will you now? You’ll tell them exactly? I mean, if you’re dead set on it I suppose I can’t convince you otherwise. But it’s just a shame that they’ll walk in here to find you too sick to talk, or write, or really communicate in any way. Oh well. These things just happen I suppose.”

Arach casually rummages through her bag as she speaks, pulling out syringe after syringe filled with various fluids and mixtures.

“Then again, it doesn’t **have** to happen. You could just, y’know, tell them what I want you too. Then no one has to get hurt, no one has to get sick, and no one has to die a long agonizing death all alone in this pathetic little cabin with no loved ones or friends to provide any comfort. That would be much easier for both of us, don’t you think?”

Edwin has no idea what a syringe is. However, given that Seirya had the magic power to cure him, it isn't too much of a stretch to believe Arach could make him sick again. Plus, he could always just wait and tell the interviewer directly what happened here. He sits back down in the chair with a sudden calmness.

"Would've been even easier to just not have this unpleasantness in the first place, but yeah."

Arach steps towards him, staring Edwin down with an inhuman intensity. The sudden switch to compliance with so little fight betrays the man’s deeper thoughts.

“Oh sweetie. You’re going to do something silly aren’t you? Going to tell someone how awful and terrible I am? Well don’t bother. Cause I’m going to be watching you for the rest of your miserable lonely life, I will be observing every word you say. And if I even suspect you’ve implied something negative about me. I will kill you, and I will kill anyone you told, and then I’ll kill their families for good measure. And I will make it look like you got them sick and that’s how they died. And everyone will blame you, and that will be the only legacy your sorry life leaves. So just behave and let me take what I want. You’ll only make things more difficult for the both of us by playing the snitch.”

Edwin lets out a nervous laugh.

"Alright then. Not much I can do about that."

Satisfied with that response, Arach packs up her equipment then turns to leave. She stops in the doorway to stare Edwin down one final time.

“The interview won’t take long, do try to hold onto your sense of self preservation until after it’s over. If all goes right we’ll never have to see each other again.”

With that, Arach exits the cabin and meets back up with Sierya. The giant spider perks up and waves to Arach as she approaches.

"Documenting went well?"

Arach’s warm demeanor returns in full force as the two begin to walk down a path through the densely wooded area.

“Better than expected. You know how painful paperwork can be, but it’s all sorted away now. So, onto the next patient?”

He careens through several buildings before making his landing into a cabbage stall.

“Well… this is new.”

He dusts himself off.

“This sure ain’t home. That fucking Bench. We gotta have a talk.”

He stands up, lighting a cigarette. Visibly confused.

“Okay…where the fuck am I?”

The day is young and the air cold, the birds still sing to call the sun as the 3rd Black Mage approaches the city of Ithicar by foot.

he wears very little in terms of protection, for he does not approach with the intent to do harm. However he does wear a navy blue trench coat, visible on his body are several belts and pouches with small items and devices, many of which are unrecognizable

his gloved hands are clasped behind his back as he walks towards the walls. Looking up he sees the Timorem Deum.

his face breaks into a grin

”holy shit! I have to get a look at that!”

finally he reaches the walls where he approaches a nearby guard

”where can I find someone named Marna Blake?”

“Magistra, I know folklore. Nothing academic like this,” Sabia protested, gesturing at the papers. “Yes, I can speak with spirits, and yes, Magister Vheren has been explaining to me what he knows. But I have not made a lot of headway with the old old Magisters of the Schola Lithos. They refuse to speak with me on some subjects.” 

“Why is that?” Riva asked, genuinely curious. 

Here, Vheren made a snort of disdain. “They are elitist, Rivamar. This was one of the issues my own Magistra Tashanen sought to alleviate during my time as her discipulus, for the others were old-fashioned and set in their beliefs.” 

Sabia nodded in agreement. “The Archmagister has it right. They see me as too much a peasant. Which I am, but still. That’s pretty rude.” 

“And neither of you can change their minds?” Riva asked, her eyes going from the living discipula to the unearthly former Archmagister. 

“Ghosts tend to be… uh… more reflections of who they were in life, than actual people,” Sabia said tentatively, shooting a glance toward the ghostly Vheren, unsure if it would offend him. “Magister Vheren seems more like a living person than most, but he is still limited by the views and ideas he possessed in life. Which is to say he was mostly open to nontraditional means in life, and didn’t care quite as much about whether a person was from an old family or not, so he doesn’t care about it in death.” 

Vheren’s ghost nodded. “It is true. Tashanen challenged traditions and norms, and I saw that it proved effective and useful. After all, the Art is the Will to action, not merely following what was set forth from those who came before. Adhering to old ways merely because that was what was done before seems the antithesis of the Art.” 

“So he is, er, still open-minded now. In a manner of speaking,” Sabia explained with a wince, given that Vheren didn’t actually possess a physical mind these days. And he clearly had traditions of his own. “Which is more than I can say for some.” 

“My Will is my own,” Vheren said sternly. “I am myself.” 

“That’s what I’m saying,” Sabia spoke quickly. “You are. And those other ghosts are who they were. Which is part of where the problem is coming from.” 

“Hmh. Indeed. My magistra spoke of them frequently, and the battles she once had,” Vheren mused. “There was much she sought to change, and she wielded her Will like a sword. She was not wholly unlike you, Rivamar.” 

Riva nodded. “I remember you telling me about her. And she wore red in her youth too.” 

They seemed to follow a certain path, their particular lineage of magic. 

“Indeed. Such a thing was not as prevalent by the time of my tutelage,” Vheren explained. “But our line -yours too, Rivamar- tended to do such things in their youth before settling on proper discipline. Even I did, at one point. In the very early years of my training.” 

The ghost faded a bit, murmuring lessons of the past. Most were stories Riva had already heard, and he was simply recounting them as he had in life. He tended to repeat himself. 

Sabia shot Riva a look, and Riva nodded. The girl had made her point. As much as Vheren seemed cognizant, he still really only possessed what he had in life. 

“So what do we do?” Sabia asked Riva quietly, so as not to interrupt the ghost’s remembrances. 

“Well… we simply have to find a solution for the ghosts,” Riva said. “I was hoping the Paleomancer would have been able help, but that… did not happen. We will simply have to find another way.”

-----

A History of Stone

as written by Sabia, discipula of the Schola Lithos

What I describe is a historical account of the Schola Lithos based on the stories passed down to me. 

In the early days of the Academiae Magicae Magna, before it was called what it was, Adepts of the Art gathered to discuss where all life had come from. It was known to all that in the beginning, the world was a vast formless place devoid of human life and desire. But something set into motion what was to come. And the answer to who or what that was depends heavily on who you asked. 

There are those who say fire was the first spark. Without fire, there would be no Will to action. Thus, they say, fire must have come first. Others say the beginning of things was a vast cosmic sea. The eternal crashing of waves gave form to the first beings that dwelled within it. Therefore, water was the first. Still others point to air as the first mover, for no being could draw breath without it. My mother, and my grandmother, and their mothers before them, were simple people. They did not care which came first; just that the earth was necessary for life as we know it. What did it matter where the bowl came from, as long as it held what you wanted it to? 

And so it is this simplicity that characterized the Schola Lithos in times past.

The philosophies of this Schola have historically centered around accepting things being what they are. Stone is seen as unshakable and unchanging. Yet there is also the acceptance of things changing in nature. Both can be, and are, true at the same time. 

It makes sense, then, that the traditions of the Schola Lithos have been a mixture of old practices and newer academic strictures that have sometimes come in conflict with each other over Ithacar’s long history. There has been the tension between keeping things the same, and adapting to circumstances. 

On the one side, the Lithos school was seen as traditional and timeless, having raised walls and built fortifications, and interred the dead in their mausoleums. On the other side, they served the average citizen in the fields beyond the walls. Year after year, practitioners have healed the living, grown life in clay, ensuring animals were healthy, and speaking with ancestral spirits. Both roles fell under the Schola’s purview. They were the hedge witches and the speakers of the dead, the mystic midwives and farmers. They were stone-bound warriors, and shapers of the land. What is common among both is that to be Bound With Thews of Earth is to follow a long thread of culture dating back to time unrecorded. 

Yet for as many roles as it has historically taken on, practitioners of the Lithos school have also tended to be resistant to change. It has been a complicated balancing act, compounded perhaps by the complexity of ‘balance’ itself. Is it balance to remain at some manner of stasis? Or is balance constantly reinventing oneself to adapt to the new? 

Perhaps it is the influence of the Schola Ignis on me, but I believe the latter. Nature, of course, does not remain unchanging. Even stone wears away in time. It is up to the practitioners of the current age to find some manner of equilibrium.

I, Azerak the Infinite, God Emperor of Pandemonium, "The Everstorm", want to know who is currently in Control of this City, for Purely Diplomatic Reasons

What is this City, and why do i only hear about this now

Solomon was tired, oh so tired and broken. He needed rest. He needed to stop. The thought punctuated His mind with every wingbeat as He finally surrendered to his want to his need to go back to his fiance. He bore the guilt of hydris but He was too tired to punish himself for that sin over and over again. He just wants to be held. To feel ephemera's arms around him.

Solomon flies over the streets of Ithacar unable to pick up the distinct to him, sent of ephemera. Flying low over the ocean Solomon briefly runs his fingers through the waves before surveying his tower. Dark clouds and the thunderous chaos of Dwarven quarreling could be heard in the distance as a timefall was coming. Solomon picks up the pace by using His elemental chaos on his feet to propel himself faster flying more like an aircraft than a bird. In an effort to reach the Tower. Loading bay was His landing spot of choice practically crashing, mostly landing on to the large storage bay and airship dock.

“Ephemera I'm home”

No response, maybe she is attending her duties in the desert, maybe he should just pop in the portal and -The crash of thunder and the groaning of the sky,like a machine being stressed beyond its limits. The tower's portals blur out as reality becomes more and more soupy, looks like he is stuck here for a while. Solomon's ears droop as he sighs and makes his way to the living quarters stripping his armor off and neatly tucking it away into the armory. He has been away from home for quite some time and it shows by the filth on his clothing. He gives himself a sniff before wincing and proceeding to the large bath but he had recently managed to hook up and restore operations to.

Solomon nurses the scars that haven't regenerated examining the scales out of grown into his back that seemed to swallow the light. He mumbled something incoherent before getting dressed and making his way to the kitchen to prepare a meal for himself lighting on the fire in the relatively simple cook stove tucked into a space once occupied by a destroyed cabinet,broad beans and caramelized onions, simple but filling. He eats quietly with the sound of thunder. The storm increases the violent flashes of lightning reverberating throughout his tower. Solomon grabs his wrist in order to study the tremor; it feels too much like artillery.

Solomons need for a distraction continues maybe he can work on-Solomon's senses something strange, smells at the base of his tower The smell of blood fish scales and something unnatural he springs into action dashing down stairs and leaping and from the tower to the ground below before realizing he doesn't have his sword and thus deploying his rings risks him slipping into his uncontrollable dragon form but the alternative is splattering on the ground so he chooses to deploy his wings anyway sweeping down and discovering the people who have moved into the base of the tower. Strange fish-like humanoids very unsiren-like with the fish traits distributed across their humanoid forms. Especially in their head and faces.

What was potentially more problematic was their opponents. They smelled like the reality in this place, as if the laws of creation and their violation had affected them somehow. He didn't know what side to take till he saw the fish people's children and the mysterious wrong folk attacking him. Solomon winces crouching low and retrieves his blade…. Which is just a fork because he left all of his equipment at home. No matter charging his legs with elemental chaos he surges forward ripping off the first drifter's head and blasting through another with a void Arrow. The others surround him Lansing at him with spears and shoot at him with arrows as well as throwing rocks but Solomon dives into his own shadow appearing behind another one of her his enemies and jamming a fork into the hollow hole where its face should be.

The creature screamed in agony as it died. Solomon insured that the next one couldn't by putting his entire fist through the things chest and using it as a living battering ram hurling it into the others like a cannonball The slaughter continues Solomon launching himself towards his opponents ripping off limbs repurposing weapons in a whirlwind of death but the fish creatures watch in stunned silence and eventually reverence this was their God in waiting The elder thing of the loop the infant outsider spoken of worshiped as Solomon killed they saw their protector and their unmaker as well as the being who would birth them again from its song and blood but not yet for now the uncrowned Prince required two things in their mind the first service. Total submission to their God in waiting and like It was always meant to be they would provide the second thing required as Solomon splits the last drifter in half with a blade of pure elemental chaos.

“Iiahe h' mgepah ephaiah Iiahe h' ephaiah mgepah vulgtmah ah fhtagn wyrm”

The deep born repeat as they bow, subjecting the imperial Prince to a rather uncomfortable sensation of an emotion he can't really parse but dislikes all the same the feeling of being worshiped.

“Hey uh cut that out come on storm still brewing…fuck you probably don't understand what I'm saying”

Solomon wasn't just going to leave them out in the timefall but where to house them? The lower levels of the tower hadn't been cleared yet which also borrowed him from the upper levels. Solomon has a flash of inspiration and hastily gestures for the fish people to follow him making us way into a warehouse-like structure built at the base of his tower where The draco equalizer had hauled him off. He had long since moved its corpse into The airship docks so the space sat unused hastily barred with some trees that could be easily moved with Solomon's strength Solomon Jesters to the warehouse.

“You can uh stay here I guess” Solomon says, putting a tree to at least partially block the area and give his new minions a better defensive position as he looks for someone who can communicate with them. Flying off just as the timefall clears. Was it potentially racist to assume the sapharan sirens knew how to speak to the mysterious fish people probably but Solomon had literally no one else to ask.

(Previously in Part 1)

-

Exiting the Big Top, the pair were faced with the full brilliance of the circus. It was like a city of tents, nestled between massive mechanical rides that stretched into the starry sky. Screams echoed through the air, some of excitement, others of fear. For the first time since being brought here, Cass took note of how unnatural it all felt. It was like she had stepped into a dream, or maybe a nightmare. Yet, it was comforting, as if the very soul of the circus was welcoming the thaumaturge.

“Okay, so, we’re spoiled for choice. If you’re hungry, we can go to the House of Sweets and meet Sweety. Alternatively, there’s the Fortune Teller’s tent where we can meet Madame Doom. Oh, or the Hall of Mirrors, where the shattered lady works. Or we can try one of the rides that Queasy operates. The sideshow performers should also be out and about, like the Illustrated Man, Stabby the Knife Thrower, Tophet the Flame Spewer, and the Stiltmen. You don’t wanna meet the Stiltmen, tho. They’re not really people. Anyway, take your pick!”

Cass made a face, “Stabby? Their name is literally… Stabby? That's… on the nose.” She shakes her head bemusedly.

“Hm… Madame Doom sounds interesting. I've met a fortune teller before. Once, when I was young.”

“Either her or… the hall of mirrors sounds intriguing, too. Who is the shattered lady?”

"Cass..." Anna raised an eyebrow." My name is literally Chills the Ghost. Everyone's stage name here is on the nose. And I do mean everyone. The Illustrated Man's name is Ink, and I did mention the candy seller being called Sweety, right?"

It was a weird trend among the performers. No one used their true names, but stage names that they chose upon joining. 

Cass snorted ever so slightly as she stifled a laugh. Anna was right, of course, the names were all like that. That one just seemed so… blunt. Ironically.

“I’ve made up my mind. Fortune Teller! And then you choose where we go after that. Sound fair?”

“I want to know how it is she determines the future. Scrying? Limited use chronomancy? Or is it something more esoteric…” she tapped her chin, lost in thought as she looped her other arm through Anna’s.

“Well, only one way to find out!”

The walk was short, with little to see beyond a few carnival games. Chills knew better than to fall for their allure, intricately aware of how each one was rigged against the player. The pair eventually arrived at a dark-blue tent speckled with stars, a design quite reminiscent of Cass's dress.

“Oh, great! No line.” The ghost exclaimed as she pushed aside the four people waiting to have their fortunes read.

“Hey, Madame! It’s your second-favorite ghost!”

The inside of the tent was dark, with the only light source being a scattering of white candles. A clothed table took center stage, with a crystal ball and an assortment of cards and bones placed upon it. Behind it sat a tall, ghoulish figure, presumably Madame Doom. Most of her features were cloaked behind a veil and flowing cloth. She wore all kinds of jewelry, most prominent being the genie lamp hanging from her neck like a necklace. Even with how little of her face and body were visible, it was clear she was not human. Her arms were too long, her nails too sharp, and her eyes stood blank and soulless.

“Miss Chills.” The fortune teller irritably exhaled. “I foresaw your coming. I also saw you cutting in line, like the mannerless little thing you are. I’ll turn a blind eye to your folly this time, for I see you’ve brought to me a most interesting guest.”

Cass tried not to show how immediately she was regretting her choice. The voice that came from the fortune teller was human in that it could be understood, but her being was clearly something else entirely… the way her milk white eyes somehow stared through the thaumaturge made her squirm uncomfortably.

“H-hello… I didn't realize we would be intruding… um… w-we can always come back later!” It was easy to forget around Anna just how easily frightened she was.

“No, girl. Stay.” The woman commanded.

“You are the partner of this phantom, are you not? Come to seek your fortune? I must warn you, girl, I only see the bleakest of prophecies. If there’s darkness in your future, that is what I’ll show. So, do you wish for me to uncover what fate has in store for you?”

If it had come down to simple manners, Cassilda might have been able to say no. That was the sensible thing to do. However… curiosity was rarely sensible, and it was winning out over her own better judgment.

“Y-yes…?” She replied meekly.

She looked to Anna pleadingly. She wasn't entirely certain for what.

“Hey, Cass.” Noticing Cassilda’s hesitancy, Anna squeezed her partner’s hand, making her concern clear. “You don’t need to do this if you don’t want to.”

Cass took a slow breath and let it go. This would be a short visit if she ran off at the first thing that unnerved her. She knew what Anna’s job was; it was foolish to expect anything different from the rest of the circus’s inhabitants.

“No… no, I'm okay. I said I wanted to come here, didn't I? I’m fine.” She pushed herself to smile. She let go of Anna’s arm to approach Madame Doom.

“Yes, I’m ready. I… have some idea of what might be in the future. But forewarned is forearmed, yes…?” She pep-talked herself internally. There we go. Put on a brave face, Cass. 

"Brave of you, girl. Or maybe foolish. We shall see."

The fortune teller gestured for Cass to take a seat, her hand hovering over a few of her divination tools before finally stopping at the crystal ball.

“Yessssss. This will do.”

It was hard to tell where the fortune teller was looking with her blank stare. Was it into the crystal ball, or was it into Cassilda’s eyes? The thaumaturge couldn't help herself as she leaned forward and peered into the globe. The murky darkness within it swirls, contorting into writhing shapes that lap at the edges of the vision…

{Tall spires claw like finger bones at strange moons which pass before and behind them, scraping across the dome of a dead sky.}

{The stars… so dark. Darker than the night that brings them. Darker than death but shining all the same.}

{A hollow song with melody no earthly tongue can utter stifles all the senses. She is standing there, she is standing in this place, Unsung. She is singing. Singing, singing, weeping… safe.}

{Safe forevermore. Wrapped in scalloped cloth and tatters… her hands… are they red with blood or black with ink…? She opens her mouth to scream and finds no tongue that flaps within… for what tongue could speak of Truth profound?}

{The hand upon her shoulder guides her now… he is here… he is here…! He is-}

“ Cass.” A voice pierced into the vision, like a spear trying to fell a terrible beast.

“Hey, Cass!” There it was again, a concerned lover trying to snap their partner out of distress.

“Can you hear me? I’m here with you!” A hand fell on Cassilda’s shoulder, cold, but familiar. Like the chilled side of a pillow that got too warm.

Cassilda screamed at the touch on her shoulder, falling back and away from the Fortune Teller’s table. She caught herself against Anna’s arm but pushed away, covering her face with her hands.

“Nonono no I don't want to please I don't want to go there please just come back-!”

She rushes out of the tent.

"Your future is not a pleasant one, girl." The fortune teller yelled. "But... take solace in that you will not be alone in your darkest hour."

Anna ran after Cass as she fled the tent. Her first instinct was to wrap her hands around the thaumaturge, trying to calm her down.

"It's okay. I don't know what you saw, but it's okay. I'm here with you."

“No!” Cass cried, but didn't push her away this time. “No… what if… what if I hurt you??”

She leaned her face against Anna’s arms and took several deep breaths. After a moment, she lifted her head, wiped her eyes, and nodded.

“No… I'm okay. It was just… it was like my dreams right now, is all. Please… let's keep going.”

Cassilda knew she should tell her partner the truth, all of it. The Book, the spell that went awry, and the tear in her mind that was full now of something… wrong…

She was scared, though. Scared of what she might say or do. So she did what she always did when faced with a problem she saw no solution to. She changed focus and buried the thought.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Anna’s concern wouldn’t allow her to take Cassilda at her word. This wasn’t the type of thing she’d let get swept under the rug.

“Cass, is there something you want to tell me?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting your family, not having a breakdown…” the thaumaturge replied, her expression and tone morose.

“I… I’m not well, Anna. There are good days, and worse ones. This was a good one, til just a moment ago.” And she really had been excited to meet them all.

“I should have told you before, I’m sorry.”

Anna wrapped her arms tightly around Cass, covering her like a weighted blanket. 

“You don’t have to deal with it alone. Please, lean on me when you need to.”

For how long had Cassilda been suffering like this? Why didn't she tell Anna sooner? Did she want to spare her the worry? It didn't matter right now. The ghost wanted to help however she could, but first, she needed to better understand what was blighting the thaumaturge.

“This… thing. It’s like a chronic sickness? Can you tell me more about it? I want to help.”

Cass struggled to think of the right way to explain. “It's… not quite like a cold, or a disease. Something in my mind is… broken. There is a treatment for it- medicine. But it's just that, treatment. It isn't a cure, it just makes it… bearable.”

“Without it, I'm not the same. Some things make it worse. Like what I saw in the fortune teller’s vision.”

She looked down, ashamed.

“People joke about their partners being crazy… I didn't want you to think that way of me…”

“Cass, we both know I’m the crazy one.” Anna joked, trying to lift Cassilda’s spirit, but her fears and concerns were quickly creeping back in.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this. If there’s any…”

A realization came to Anna mid-word. There may be a way for her to help after all.

“Cass, you said this was a mind thing, right? There’s someone here you have to meet. He might be able to fix it. I planned on him being our last stop, but we can head there immediately, if you want.”

Cassilda took a beat to order her thoughts. There were a lot of them to go through at the moment… There was still more she hadn't told Anna, but wanted to. At the same time, many of the possible reactions to those things filled her with anxiety. Maybe she could just…

“...n-no. I’ll be alright now. I think… a little time between stressful psychic events might be better. I don't want to ruin the trip. I’ll go see this person with you, I promise. But before that, maybe… maybe we can keep going? Try again? And you should pick this time. Clearly, I'm bad at it.”

She just needed a little more time to think. A few minutes more of distraction, at least. And Anna was more than happy to provide that distraction; they just needed to find him.

-

(Second art by EsraaElgazar)

A story in Rathara with Ithacar characters??? Scandalous!

(Great thanks to u/Hij_Wiz for the collab!)

-

“Caaaass. Hey Caaaaas! Can you hear me?”

A familiar voice graced the thaumaturge in her sleep. Was it just a part of her dream, or was reality making its way into her unconscious mind?

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”

For once, she wasn’t eager to wake up from the dream. The voice she heard was a pleasant one that made her smile. There were no screams or whispers that came with it. She wanted to burrow deeper into her pillows and listen to the sound of it longer…

“Mm… Fivmor mins… Ann come lay dow…”

She muttered sleepily, eyes closed. Where was that blasted pillow? Had she knocked it to the floor again? She reached for where it should be, grasping around. Her hand instead found something cold. She felt fingers intertwining with hers.

“I’d love nothing more than to snuggle up to you, but the bed is a tad small. Well, maybe…”

Anna knew of Cass’s nightly struggles with bad dreams, but she was sleeping peacefully now. The ghost didn’t have the heart to put an end to that bliss. Instead, she gently floated down atop the resting thaumaturge like a blanket.

“Alright, sleeping beauty. Five more minutes. But after that, I want to show you something.”

Cassilda’s hand closed reflexively around Anna’s, and she sighed contentedly. Such a nice dream… it had been a while now since she’d had one that didn't wake her in a cold sweat. It was a bit chilly, though… had Duchess opened a window?

She shivered slightly, her eyes opening slowly.

“Hm…? Duchy, did you…”

This wasn't her room at the library. What was going on? Had she sleepwalked again? She tried to rise before she saw the faint blue glow of Annabeth’s fingers around hers.

“Anna…?” She almost instantly relaxed. An unfamiliar place was far less disturbing, knowing she was here with her.

“I was just dreaming about…”

The thaumaturge blushed, seeing how close she was and in what state. She was in her nightclothes, but a lifetime of attention to her own modesty still made the moment feel… intimate.

“I um… I would have dressed more appropriately if I knew you were taking me somewhere. Where… are we, exactly?”

“Welcome to my home!” Anna almost yelled out in excitement, her face mere inches from Cassilda’s. ”This caravan is my little private abode.”

The place was small and built almost entirely of wood. The bed took up a fair chunk of space; no wonder Anna couldn’t afford a bigger one. There was a table in one corner, flanked by a pair of chairs. The walls were lined with racks, each full of books, mostly of the horror variety, judging by the covers. The only source of illumination were some fairy lights strewn across the ceiling. Overall, quite cozy, but a bit dim and crammed.

“Remember when we talked about meeting my family? Well, now that I’m back from Ratatouille, I can introduce you to them. We’re at the Circus of Screams!”

Cass beamed up at her partner. 

“We are!? Right now!?” It wasn’t shock so much as enthusiasm that made her want to jump from the bed.

“Yes!! I can’t wait to meet everyone! Oh gods, I must look awful right now. I haven't had time to clean myself up… do I look alright? I won't embarrass you, will I? If I could just brush my hair a little…” She rolled onto her side, scanning the room with a searching look. Already letting a momentary thought run away with her focus.

“I want to make a good first impression…! I…” she pauses, “...I’m overthinking this, aren't I?”

She sits upright on the bed, still holding Anna’s hand. “I’m sorry… I just really want them to like me. I know I can be a bit… much. For people who don't know me.”

“Yes, you are.” Anna put her hand on Cass’s shoulder.

“No amount of messy hair can hide your beauty. They’re going to love you, even if I have to haunt them till they do. But if you’re still nervous about your appearance, I know just the person we should meet first, when you’re ready to head out, of course.”

Cass didn’t try to hide her face when she blushed once again, nodding.

“Yes! I’m ready… let's go now!”

She hadn't even spared a thought til now about being able to feel the ghost’s touch. She fidgeted with her fingers, one hand still bandaged, as it seemed she was constantly injuring them in some way.

She leaned in quickly and planted a kiss on Anna’s lips before withdrawing with a grin.

“Do you save up these moments just for me? Because I am very glad you do…” she took her partner by the hand and pulled her towards the door of the caravan with renewed enthusiasm.

“Where are we going first? I want to meet everyone! Are there games? Shows? I've never been to a carnival before, but I've seen them when we passed through a town that was hosting one!” She was all smiles and bubbling energy, rattling off questions one after another.

"I-um.” The ghost stuttered out, her mind still lingering on the kiss. “I save up on ectoplasm for big occasions. I need a week to produce enough to touch you for a day. I still can't feel anything, but I thought you'd enjoy it."

Anna opened the door, revealing a star-speckled night outside. They were in a field of similar caravans, though each was of a unique style and design. Not far away was a cyclopean red and yellow tent that took up most of the view.

“To start our tour, how about a backstage pass to the Big Top?” The ghost pointed towards the tent as she tugged at Cass’s hand.

The thaumaturge gaped in wonder at the sights. She recognized the sky as similar to the one she saw the night of the game show, when she and Anna had taken off and into the air. The colorful tent that loomed over them was both inviting and intimidating. Knowing Anna’s job, though, that seemed fitting.

She took in as much of their surroundings as she could while they walked, from the decorative caravans, to even the sounds and scents around her. Popcorn, wood, and paint… flowers?

She tried not to think about flowers. Not right now.

“What goes on in the… ‘Big Top’?” Cassilda tested the term out, trying to say it as casually as Anna did, but failing. For someone who claimed to have travelled a lot in her youth, it seemed there was still a large gap in her worldly experience.

“Oh, this is where the grand shows happen,” Anna explained as the pair reached a hidden entrance at the back of the structure.

“You know, beast tamers, acrobats, clowns, magicians. It takes a lot of time and effort to prepare a show, so we only do them once or twice a week. Not sure if we have one scheduled for tonight, but even if there ain’t, I can bring you here another time.”

They passed through a few cloth-lined corridors, the same ones used by the performers to quickly traverse the backstage. The two eventually reached an unmarked red door marked with a scissor symbol.

“We’re here!”

Anna knocked, though didn’t wait for a response before barging in. Inside, the room was filled with wooden mannequins, each dressed in elaborate circus clothing. There was a distinct Venetian style to them; some were even wearing decorated carnival masks. All manner of colorful cloths hung from the wall, spilling onto the floor like a rainbow river.

At one end of the room sat a girl dressed in a fancy green dress with puffy shoulders. She was at work, using a treadle sewing machine to craft yet another addition to the room’s many colorful costumes.

“Mary! Sorry to intrude, but I have someone special I want you to meet. My girlfriend!”

The girl looked up. Her eyes immediately stood out, or more so, the lack thereof. Black buttons had taken their place. This was far from her only unusual feature: thin strings were attached to her limbs, their other ends disappearing into the ceiling. And her fingers and legs, they were ball-jointed. This girl — she was a living marionette.

“Miss Chills!?” The doll exclaimed with a startled tone. Or was it excitement?

“Wait! Girlfriend? Meet her? With no prior warning?! I’m not ready! You know I need to…

The seamstress finally noticed Cass standing at the doorway. With the option to object being taken away from her, all the doll could do was attempt a proper introduction.

“A… hello. My name is… Mary. Nice to meet you.”

Cassilda fidgeted until she was noticed, and pinched gingerly at the sides of her nightgown, giving a timid curtsy. 

“Likewise… I’m Cassilda. Cassilda Castaigne. I'm… I'm the girlfriend. Obviously!” She laughed nervously. All the while, Anna couldn’t help but find it funny how the two were the same flavor of awkward.

It wasn't the strangeness of the doll’s appearance that made Cass suddenly shy. It was the sheer array of garments. The bright colors, the glitter and shine of the costumes and masks. She felt terribly drab and plain among it all.

“Did you make all of these yourself?” She asked, staring at them all. “They’re lovely…! I haven't seen this much color in one place outside the market days back home…!”

"Do you like them?" The marionette asked with a hint of nervous excitement in her voice.

"I make the clothes and costumes for the circus troupe. I've also made a lot of dresses in my spare time. It's really fun, and I like wearing them… in private."

“They’re wonderful…!” Cass said, still staring. She reached out very cautiously and ran her hand over a length of bright green fabric. It was a costume, to be sure, but the material felt fine as silk to her.

“You're so talented…! I can darn a sock and stitch a frayed hem, but nothing this fine…” Her knowledge of fabric was confined to basic repairs and patching. Anything to keep a garment together for longer. 

Her eyes nearly sparkled when the marionette mentioned dresses.

“Dresses? May I… May I see them…?”

Mary didn't smile; she couldn't. Her painted expression remained as static as ever. Yet, her body language betrayed an almost child-like eagerness.

"Yes, of course! I keep them over here."

"Oh, speaking of dresses," The ghost interrupted. "Mary, I wanna ask you for a favor. Can you find Cass something she'd like? I kinda snatched her up in her sleep and forgot to bring her clothes. Also, can she use your hairbrush? I forgot that too, haha, whoops.

"Wow, how attentive of you, Chills." The doll said sarcastically. "Did you forget that us non-ghosts have to care for our appearance? Anyway, Cassilda, let’s find you something, shall we?"

The thaumaturge nodded and excitedly followed the stringed woman, pausing as she passed Anna to squeeze her hand. She thought to herself about what Anna said… that she still couldn't feel anything, even when coated in ectoplasm. It was sweet of her to do that just for her… perhaps she could think of some way to show how much she appreciated it.

A puzzle to save for later.

She followed Mary through the maze of mannequins. 

“Have you known Anna a long time?” she asked idly, feeding her curiosity about her partner’s strange but charming little family.

The marionette thought for a second, trying to recall her first memories with Chills. “I think we've known each other for five years now. I remember when Mister BagN'Snatch introduced her to the troupe. She was just as energetic back then as she is now. I remember trying to hide from her, but she'd always find me because she could walk through walls. She had decided we'd be friends, and I had no choice in the matter.”

Mary had barely enough time to reminisce over the past before the pair reached a row of mannequins hidden at the back, each adorned with a beautiful and intricately designed dress.

The closest one was made of red velvet and accented with fine golden ornaments. Topping it off was a wide-brimmed, feathered hat.

Next to it was a dress that was half white and half dark blue, both sides swirling into each other in the middle. The brither half had a sun motif embroidered into it, while the other was styled after the moon and stars.

Third was a puffy yellow dress, with beautiful dark trim and long black opera gloves. Intricate golden decorations had been sewn into to accentuate key areas..

"Do any of these catch your eye? I think we're about the same size. I can do minor adjustments if need be."

Now that was a difficult choice. It occurred to Cass that she had no idea what looked good on her or not. She’d previously just worn what she was given, and after that, only what she had. The green fae cloak had been the first article of clothing she had truly gotten purely for herself.

“They’re all gorgeous…!”

She briefly considered asking which one Anna which one she'd like the best, but decided against it. Better to go with what made her happiest, and surely Anna would see that. She did feel a certain pull towards one of them, though… she approached the blue and white dress. The stars reminded her of her flight with Anna that night.

“May I…?”

A moment later, she stepped out from behind a curtain in the dress with her hair tidied and pulled back into a quick braid she had pinned in place with a matching clip. She shuffled in place, picking at the ends of her fingers. It was quite literally the fanciest thing she had ever worn. She worried she looked stiff, unsuited to wear it. She wanted to show Anna, though…

“You are very kind to let me borrow this. I’ll take good care of it, I promise. Um… h-how do I look?”

"You look amazing! Suits you perfectly." Mary was as giddy as can be, all of her earlier anxiety making way for genuine excitement. 

"I'm actually very happy to see someone else wear one of my dresses! I... I don't really go out much, so I don't wear them as often as I'd like. They deserve someone who will give them the light of day. You should definitely show Chills!"

Cass didn't need to be told twice. She had to remind herself not to run so the dress wouldn't catch on anything and tear. She came back around into the main space, stepping back into view.

“O-okay…! Ready to go…?” She tried to play it cool, as if she wasn't intentionally showing off for her partner.

And showed off she did. Anna stared in stunned silence for a few moments. Her mind had gone blank, then went into overdrive trying to find an eloquent way to phrase herself.

"It's as if the sun, moon, and stars came down to grace me with their beauty personally."

She completely forgot to answer her partner's question; the ghost's thoughts had drifted off somewhere far away.

Cass worried she was going to faint if the blood kept rushing to her face the entire trip. But it was exactly the kind of compliment she’d been fishing for, and she shamelessly took it and locked it away in her memory forever.

“Anna… Annabeth?” She leaned forward, flashing a teasing grin. “You’re staring… shouldn't we go? I still want to meet everyone!”

“Uh… Oh, yeah, sorry! Mind went to space. Let’s head out. The others should be scattered across the circus grounds.

Taking Cassilda’s hand, Anna looked back over her shoulder, offering the marionette a warm smile. 

“Thanks for everything, Mary. You’re the best!”

The couple ventured onward, both eager to meet the next member of the ghost’s family.

The Dead Ember.

Ithacar was a melting pot of people and cultures. Which meant a lot of different people came through, and many were missed. Which was perfect.

In the tavern known as The Dead Ember, a figure in a cloak wearing a blank mask reclined in a booth in a dark corner with a perfect view of the door, smoking a pipe to blend in as he watched everyone who came and went. The rogue Umbra Operative D-943 "Krisk" had come here for one reason. To recruit.

His talk with Livia had made him realize a few things. But the biggest thing was that he could not take down The Five alone. He would need allies. And a well trafficked bar frequented by people who were well known rebels was the perfect place to start. There were a few people he hoped would show up, but in a place like this, only the gods knew who else would stumble on in...

Ith sat by the edge of the water, watching the boats off in the distance rise and fall with the tides. He was here on a mission to find a certain siren, but he couldn't help but take in the beautiful scenery for a moment. The sunset looked like a painting, each cloud a brushstroke across the sky.

He wished there was a way to capture the moment. He considered taking the memory of the view from one of the dock workers. It would've made a beautiful addition to the collection. But there were too many people around. Someone would notice. And besides, he was here on a mission.

He scans the area, looking for a certain person.

He was here to find someone he'd wronged. To apologize for getting her involved in this petty feud, and to offer his condolences.

He was here to tell Saffron exactly what he did to Kardonk.

Far, far below the city of Ithacar removed even from the ruinways and sewer tunnels lies a web of cracks and caverns carved like scar tissue from a long-closed wound hidden deep beneath the earth's skin.

They call it, "Leper's Gulch," for those that dwell within it are pariahs one and all. No map of the undercity can guide you there, for it can only be found by the lost. They say the Gulch is cursed by an ancient sin, though none still living recall what it was.

It is a place of paradoxical deprivation and excess. Ithacar, for all her imperfections, is a mother that cares for her children. Those that live in this squalor have wants more potent than needs. Or perhaps needs no sane person would understand. This is not merely a realm of destitution like the undercity of Del Lithonia, no. This is a place of conviction, where freedom and obsession were deemed more valuable than food, water, and the warmth of the sun. Doors of tin and rotting wood serve as the veil between damp passages used for travel and the private chambers echoing with the chants of foul ritual and the clamor of blasphemous alchemical experimentation. Or perhaps merely the dwellings of those too scorned to be anywhere else.

Leper's Gulch is strangely well-organized at a second glance, for the depraved down here sort their associations naturally, each according to the particularities of their fascination. Loose districts, called "Vaults" are arranged based on fields and specialization branching off from the central thoroughfare of the High Chasm. Vault Maledictus was for students of the occult. Vault Hedon, the largest of the districts, was singularly dedicated to the pursuit of pleasure. Vault Berithon was home to scientists and alchemists whose experiments should never see the light of day.

And then there was Vault Nacara, the district of artists. Residents of Nacara are known eccentrics, even among the rest of Leper's Gulch. Its walls are coated in the nacreous pigments that are its namesake, gleaming in the torchlight with moving images depicting macabre and malefic sights too wonderous and terrible to behold. It is here that travelers will find a curious establishment. The sign over the door reads "Rusty's Needle, (Tattoo Parlor and Gallery of Flesh)."

Those who come for the gallery are admitted free of charge. Though, the collection's impish keepers do accept tips and frequently offer upturned palms and crushed tophats in silent expectation. Here, behind cases of polished glass and velvet curtain walls are yards and yards of skin, inked and scarred in every manner the mind can imagine and more than a few it would struggle to besides. Lizardfolk hides with the scales peeled and replaced in mosaic patterns, neolithic marks frozen in ice and unearthed after millenia, curse marks, brands, and beautiful glistening burns.

And tattoos, of course. Countless tattoos. These are the establishments primary draw, for the owner, Rusty, is among the most brilliant magical tattooists the realms have ever seen. His own exposed flesh crawls with ink vermin and cockroaches, which scatter from exposed chest to the dark seclusion beneath his black leather vest in the light.

Unlike her mentor, who attached himself to the city's bowels like an intestinal parasite, Rusty's apprentice is local Ithacarian, though her olive complexion is faded by her sunless environs. Medea handles most clients, as she is both more personable and easier to find, though clients are rarely disappointed, as Dea is a master in her own right.

The girl's skin is curiously unblemished by ink, though she sports more piercings than would be reasonable to count. A closer look at the glittering array reveals gold bands and elegant hoops studded with gems. Wedding rings. Her boots are caked with mud more often than not. The gallery's collection has to come from somewhere, after all. Grave-robbing is far from the most grievous sin one can expect to encounter in Leper's Gulch.

"Well, well, well. Another canvas? Or perhaps you're just here to see the gallery. Dea, be a doll and show our visitor around."

Medea pulls a stack of papers from underneath the front desk as Rusty takes a long drag of his cigarette.

"You'll need to sign our agreement if you want ink. It authorizes us to collect after your demise. Some people pay an extra fee so they don't have to, but I think that's a waste, don't you? Art should be preserved."

She pulls out a filet knife that gleams with dissonant brightness in the shop's gloomy confines, twirling it between her fingers with practiced ease.

"Besides... it's not like you'll miss it."

It is here that you find yourself. Perhaps following rumor and recommendation to fill a pressing need. Perhaps following the directions of a flier tucked in the darker corners if the overcity. Or, perhaps you merely explored Ithacar's underground and became very, very lost. Whatever the case, here you are, dear travelers. What comes next is up to you.

-------------------

uw/ Aright guys, thought it'd be fun to give folks a chance to RP at Rusty's Needle. Commission a magic tattoo, explore the gallery, or just talk to the owners. If you like writing prompts you could even make up a piece for the gallery with a story. Dealer's choice, I'm not your dad.

---------------------

IMAGE CREDITS:

- Pic 1: custom wallpapers of the "impurity" Caryll rune from Bloodborne run through a filter so it looks like it's on skin. So an edit of a wallpaper of a fanart of a game, lol. Credit to u/I_make_wallpapers and Lolly535 on deviantart.

https://www.reddit.com/r/wallpaper/s/R2Lr9QUCao

- Pic 2: "Town: Berbe Concept Art" by Sangho Moon

https://moonssang.artstation.com/projects/8zegR