estdeus_innobis | the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes...

Dunno what th'hell happened last night, but whatever't is woke me up inna cold sweat, m'nose clogged wit' smoke an' m'teeth gritted t'gether. Some kinda major power goin' down, annit left me wit' one helluva headache after't passed. 'nough t'keep me'n bed witta cold cloth on m'head 'til'is mornin'. But somma th'others came by, told me 'bout th'smell'a woodsmoke anna light'n th'sky last night. We's always feared fire...mosta th'camp'd go up like a bloody matchstick if'n't caught...so folks kept watch 'til't died. Whatever't wuz, seemed t'stay'n th'woods.

's mornin' when I stepped outta m'wagon, first thin' I could smell wuz stale smoke, still ling'rin'. Got m'self some coffee'n bread, threw m'coat on, 'n headed out inta th'woods. Di'n't need no d'rections; c'n smell power 'long wit' smoke, stale, but still'ere.

Don't take me long t'find't. Almost a perfect circle, grass'n plants gone t'ash, th'trees down t'charred jags. But'n th'center, th'grass's still green, still fresh...'n th'whole place reeks'a power.

'm crouched down'n th'center, innat last livin' place, when I hear a twig snap. Look up, "So you heard't too, huh?"

The air tastes somehow different in Excolo. Not in a literal sense (the rain has made sure of that), but there is a palpable tension in the Whitechapel that has me itching to check beneath the dormitory beds: it's a teeth-on-edge wordless anxiety bleeding into the air, the kind I tend to associate with waking on a cold night to discover a viper has sought refuge in my bedroll and twined itself around my feet.

Being back in civilization calls for a different interpretation of my instincts. Something has happened. I can feel it. And if I'm lucky, I can learn something.

My monk's habit is inappropriate for the weather, and so I change into my traveling clothes, muted green and brown, and over it all a slicker of oiled leather. My .45 goes under the slicker, tucked snugly in my waistline in the small of my back. In another inside pocket I place a small leatherbound journal and a couple of thin sticks of charcoal. An ink pen would be a bloody disaster, in this weather. After a few moments of consideration, I hang a rosary around my neck. A Franciscan Crown, it was once called, amber beads and age-darkened silver. I don't know who I may meet, and for today I remain Brother Samuel.

I saddle Memory without incident, which is something of a miracle. Perhaps she is merely eager to be outside, despite the wet. "Almost, girl," I whisper. "Patience." I leave her and step out into the street, blinking in the rain. The few other passersby are hurrying, with their heads down and hands in their pockets. The sixth person I stop gives me the information I need. Lights in the forest, a concussion, fire... Rough directions, a pointed finger. It ought to be enough.

Astride Memory I head into the forest, orienting myself relative to the town and noting significant features of land as I go. I have not mapped this territory, and this foray may go a long way toward getting me started. My mind fills in contour lines, shades gullies, crosses trees.

I curse under my breath when I see movement ahead, the flash of human forms. Of course I'm not the only curious soul out here. But moving ahead a little further, my annoyance is gone in wonder and consternation. I can see the devastation, and it is much worse than I had any reason to believe.

I tie Memory well outside the scarred radius, and move inward, slowly. There is another set of footprints, very fresh, and I step nowhere but in them as I make my way closer. A charred twig has fallen in one of the footprints, and I pick it up to examine it. It bends sharply between thumb and forefinger before it finally snaps. Not dead wood, then.

A voice speaks, indistinct in the rain, and I shake the water from my hair. I don't think I was the one addressed, but I move closer, slowly.

"Fine morning to find ourselves with a mystery," I offer at last. "I can scarcely credit it." A gesture shows what I mean by "it," taking in the devastation.

Syl is here, of course. It makes me smile a little.

"So you heard't too, huh?"

"I woke up with light behind my eyelids," I say. I look at the devastation, and reach out and touch a charred tree trunk.

I hear the soft snap of a twig, and I turn.

"Fine morning to find ourselves with a mystery.I can scarcely credit it."

"Gaue-" I begin, surprised, then look again. "I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else." He does look a great deal like my old acquaintance, and my skin prickles a little. I am so much more vulnerable in this body; I am not used to not feeling safe.

Edited 2012-02-14 22:06 (UTC)

She's gotten 'erself dressed pretty inna coat't't's too big for'er anna pretty scarf over'er hair. She's settlin' inta bein' human, I think. Whether'at's a good'r bad thin', ain't m'place t'see. But she smiles when she sees me, an'I smile back. "I woke up with light behind my eyelids," she says, strokin' a burnt tree.

"Wuz smoke'n m'throat fer me," I nod. 'm 'bout t'call'er over, see what she c'n make outta'is...when a snappin' twig catches both 'r ears.

"Fine morning to find ourselves with a mystery. I can scarcely credit it."

Nanshe starts, 'n starts t'say somethin', but she catches 'erself. "I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else."

Ain't seen'is fella b'fore, not 'round town, 'n not on th'Lot. Nanshe looks right nervous, an'I straighten, takin' a step closer. "Ain't seen you 'round b'fore," I says, cas'al. "New'n town?"

The smaller of the two women looks at me with mild shock, and for a moment, something like recognition. She utters something, or part of something, that I do not understand. Phonemes that are assuredly not English, but that I cannot immediately categorize. She recovers swiftly.

"I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else."

"No harm done," I say, as warmly as one can when talking loud enough to be heard at some distance over the low rushing hiss of rain. I wonder who she's mistaken me for. While I don't exactly stick out everywhere I go, my Continental features don't usually lend themselves to cases of mistaken identity half a world from the land of my birth. Another traveler, perhaps?

The other woman stands up then, and she is taller than I expected, not far from my height. It is her footprints I am standing in, unless the other woman has someone else's shoes on and a pocket full of rocks. When she speaks, her consonants tend to leap over vowels entirely and mash each other together, so it takes me a moment to adjust.

"Ain't seen you 'round b'fore. New'n town?"

She has somewhat placed herself between the other woman and me, which makes me wonder about the connection between them. Perhaps it will become clear in time. Regardless, the last thing I want to do is to spook anyone. "Indeed, madam. I've been here less than a week. I have a bed in the dormitory at the Whitechapel." I sketch a small formal bow when I introduce myself. "Samuel Durand, Friar Observant," I say, bringing the rosary to my lips briefly. "But I hope you'll just call me Samuel. Or Brother Samuel, some prefer."

I take a couple of slow strides closer, still matching steps. I'd really rather move off to one side, but I don't want to disturb more of the area than I have to until I get to the seemingly untouched middle. "It seems like half the town's on edge about whatever happened here, so I thought I'd come take a look. I have certain skills that I hoped might be of use."

Edited 2012-02-15 16:35 (UTC)

"A friar?" I say, and raise my eyebrows. "I am surprised you didn't seek a bed at the abbey, then. It's a comfortable place. My name's Noma," I say. I will leave it to Syl to decide whether she wants to offer her name. "What sort of skills do you have, Brother?"

"I am surprised you didn't seek a bed at the abbey, then. It's a comfortable place.

She's at least the third person since my arrival to openly express surprise that I didn't seek shelter at the abbey. I sometimes wonder if such places are less retreats devoted to lofty pursuits than colonies of a certain sort of leper. It's not just that those like my own order shut out the outside: in another sense, it's as though the world is happier to have walled them away. "I spent a lot of my young life cloistered, but I've spent many years traveling, and to be honest, I'm in no hurry to be put walls between myself and the world again. I do intend to pay my proper respects one day soon."

She introduces herself as Noma, and the other, gruffer woman gives her name as Syl. "Noma. Syl." I taste the names as I say them, committing them to memory. "Good to meet you both."

They ask after the skills I mentioned, and I brush wet hair back from my face. "I certainly didn't want that to come across as arrogant. Meant only that perhaps I can be of service." A thin finger of cold water makes its way down my neck. "I've a scientific education, knowledge of woodscraft, and a number of experiences that could prove salient."

We are joined by another person, and I bow my head politely in greeting. "Does anyone know if there were actual witnesses to the event?"

cont here (http://estdeus-innobis.livejournal.com/450115.html?thread=11309635#t11309635)

what IS it with this town an' explosions a Power? So many in such a short span a time... bet no one gets what that does to the Otherworld an us inbetween folk. Gotta wait til things settle a bit before I c'n travel out to take a look.

Get there an find I ain't the only one's shown up. Glad I picked a nice quiet shadow under a tree beyond the radius of the destruction. I recognize the witch, seen her before in these woods, the other two I ain't sure of. Think I've seen the dame with the scarf somewhere in town, don't know 'er name, though somethin's ticklin' at my memory. Never laid eyes on the fella before. Wonder who he is an why he's interested.

I settle in under my tree to watch. Hunh. Seems like the dames know each other but not the guy. Though it looks like dame number two almost did. She thought he was somebody she knew. I take a second look. Nah. I don see whatever she did. i'm better off waitin' to see if they introduce 'emselves to each other.

Laughing, fire, spinning in the chaos, spinning in my stomach, & my eyes burn as I wake, nauseous. My insides feel stiff, like my skin's too tight, & I'm slick with cold sweat. Something bright & strong, & the Pattern has been stretched. Burnt. But not broken?

I first think of going to see Syl, but I'm sure she already knows. So instead I head out on my own, in a wide circle, as I don't think I can come too near too quickly. The spinning of it is too much.

I see a familiar white tail under a tree. Voices tell me Syl is here, with others. I come up closer to Chester, trying to stay quiet but not wanting to startle him. My head is starting to pound. There is too much, too much darkness here. Madness.

"Hey," I whisper, letting him know I'm near.

Introductions start and yet another person I don't recognize shows up. This thing is pullin' all sorts a folks outta the woodworks. I hear a noise behind me an' tilt an ear that way, catchin' Silence's voice as she whispers a greeting. I turn my head a bit so's I c'n see her but still keep an eye on the main gathering at the clearing.

"Hiya," I say quietly back, "Looks like we're a bit late to the party. You know any of the other guests?"

I look towards the group gathering, but I can't seem to focus my eyes. So I close them & listen to the voices for a moment. I don't dare use my power, not here. The Pattern's too raw.

"No, just Syl," I answer Chester's question, opening my eyes. "And the tall sheriff," I add, seeing him approach. He gives us a bit of a nod but otherwise doesn't acknowledge us.

My head throbs again, but I try to focus on the group standing in the charred circle. Syl, a man in traveling clothes, two women in somewhat exotic attire, I guess. My eyes lose focus again & I swear I see... something. Just out of focus, as if it's a mirage, or an after-image...

"This place," I turn to Chester, blinking the rain from my eyes. "What do you feel?" He might have a better grasp on it than I, at least. "Definitely more than just fire..." And just for a second, I swear I hear laughter, cruel & wild. I shake my head & it's gone.

Silence takes a moment to answer my question, says a name, the one the witch gave out. I see Deputy Hollow just before she mentions him and return his nod. 'Preciate how he doesn't call out or give any other indication of havin' seen us. I ain't sure yet if I wanna get noticed or not an' I don't think Silence wants to stick her nose out either.

She asks what I feel, blinkin' her eyes an' shakin' her head like she's tryin' to make things come clear or somethin'. I open my mouth an draw the air in.

Traces of Power, fire like the mage said an more...A rush of force unseen but strong and the taste...is one I've felt before. I know who it was. Didn't know she could do this. Damn! Gonna hafta tell Hermia. Valmont too. An' Mab. Mab's gonna hafta know that Alice c'n do this kinda thing.

But not before I tell Hermia, so she c'n talk to Alice before Mab does.

I let the air out slowly pullin' my impressions together. "A human Power. Fire and force. What they used ta call Pyromancy 'n TK. I know who it was. Talked to her once. I think it was an accident. Somethin' scared her an' she defended herself."

I take another breath. There's another signature here, fainter than Alice's, something with darkness. Oh. Him. Probably. If he really is her friend and wasn't the one who scared her. But it's much too faint for him to have done anything to her. Maybe he was just the first to come looking at what she did.

I wonder where Alice is right now and if she's still scared.

I move away from the groups in the circle, out toward the edge of the trees. Two small strange ripples of power here.

"Aweh," I say gravely, and nod at the spirit in feline form. "Been some time since I've seen a talking cat. You her familiar, my bru?" I say.

Pyromancy. Telekinesis. Can't say I've heard those terms outside of a book in... well, in a while. Maybe that's why it left such an impression. Chester thinks it was an accident. "Uncontrolled," I mutter, but that's not quite right. More like it was brought under control. "You know who did this, then? Is she a danger?" My hand's on my head; pressure behind my eyes.

Should I try to fix the damage here? So much power in one spot, it may not be able to repair itself. And that still doesn't explain the darkness & madness. Like it's from different sources. "More than one, perhaps?" The darkness itself seems secondary, but the chaos under it all...

The traveler is talking, quite clear & loud now, about the pattern of the blasts, & it's clear he's a man of some scientific education. Guess I'm kinda impressed, because I'm watching him closely- something about him pulls at me. I hear him mention blood & Syl goes to check-

"Aweh," & I whip my head around. The slender, dark woman. I didn't hear her approach. My head throbs at the sudden movement. This place has me on edge. Plus something about her makes me uneasy, like on the edge of a shiver. I shove my hands in the pocket of my jacket & give her a small nod.

"Been some time since I've seen a talking cat. You her familiar, my bru?" I can't help but snort at that. She knows a thing or two about familiars, then? Think I'll let Chester handle that. There's a sudden tension from the group at the circle now - Syl.

"I gotta find someone who oughta be dead an' kick'm square'n th'balls."

What? Certainly she can't mean- ? My hand grips the dagger in my pocket out of reflex. It can't be...

Edited 2012-02-19 06:46 (UTC)

Silence mutters some thing to her herself and then asks if Alice is a danger. I start to shake my head but then stop to think about it. This is a lotta destruction an' I don't gotta clue what set her off. Not really. I gotta talk to her bout it. Her an Hermia.

I look down at my feet, feelin' a little uncomfortable, "Yeah I know who it was. As for her bein' a danger...I ain't sure. B'fore this, I'd said no. Now...? Now...now I know I gotta talk to her, find out what happened."

I'm real glad when the tall, dark dame comes over to us. She nods to me an' says it' been awhile since she's seen a talking cat an I wonder where 'n when she saw another one. Asks if I'm Silence's familiar which's understandable. I catch the mage's snort at that but she don't say nothin' bout it. Leavin' it up to me I guess. Though her attention is more on Syl an the others. I keep an ear cocked that way but my attention is on the woman in fronta us.

"Yeah, I'm a familiar right enough. M'called Chester." I take couple steps over so's I c'n get a good sniff a her.

"Bakgat," I say thoughtfully. "But not her familiar," I add, nodding at the dark girl. "You roam away from your mistress? I guess a mistress. Maybe a master, but you look like a ladies' man." I grin, showing bright white teeth.

The slender woman uses a word I'm not familiar with, but I understand it all the same. She seems amiable enough, & Chester doesn't seem too put off by her, but... I don't know. That edge is still there. She jokes with Chester, rightly guessing I'm not his, while I try to listen to the group. The educated traveler has backed away a bit & looks like he's sketching something. The others are in a clump around the center green patch.

"Do you think whatever happened here was bringing him back?" The shorter woman seems to be aware of who Syl means, & just as worried as she is about it. I knew Tez was more, far more than what he seemed, but to come back from death? True & final death. At least, that's what it was supposed to be, I gathered. Makes my teeth grind.

I suddenly realize that Chester's introduced himself to the strange woman but she has yet to do so. Odd. I look back to her over my shoulder, wondering if I should do so as well. Her smile is so very bright.

AND there was a great and brilliant light, so that the land quaked; and its fury was pure as morning.

Little Alice, how strong you grow.

I see that Gaueko has helped her; the woods stink of him. We have not crossed paths in some time, my hound and I. All things in their place.

I pick my way through the woods barefoot, feet worn with calluses of someone used to the earth beneath their feet, light cloak (http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/Shopbop/p/pcs/products/linds/linds4000412028/linds4000412028_p2_1-1_254x500.jpg) around this slender elegant form, hood pulled up against the rain.

There is a little gathering in the woods - Syl, of course, drawn to power as flies to excrement; a man who amusingly has a similar face to my hound - I do hope their identities are mistaken at some point; and a perfectly ordinary woman who, however, makes the back teeth of this body hum.

"Aweh," I say, in polite greeting. I peel a little bark from a burned tree and touch it to my tongue thoughtfully.

"Indeed, madam. I've been here less than a week. I have a bed in the dormitory at the Whitechapel. Samuel Durand, Friar Observant. But I hope you'll just call me Samuel. Or Brother Samuel, some prefer."

Fella talks like a lord, an' bows right pretty. Nanshe introduces 'erself, an'I nod. "Call me Syl," I says t'im. A bloody friar, kissin' th'cross'n all. Nanshe asks why'e ain't't th'abbey, an'I think't's a damned fine question. Seems like a religious type'a fella'd go straight'ere. "Mebbe ye're here t'join th'church?" I says. Know'ere's a Christian church'n town, but ain't never attended, so dunno much 'bout't. But mebbe't's gotten pop'lar 'nough t'start bringin' folk in.

"It seems like half the town's on edge about whatever happened here, so I thought I'd come take a look. I have certain skills that I hoped might be of use."

"What skills would'ose be?" I says, cur'ous. Catch more movement outta th'corner'a m'eye...see a tall, dark woman, breakin' offa piece'a bark t'taste. Fleetin' wonder if'n she's a witch...s'a witchy thin' t'do, fer sure. "Well, 'is thin's surely bringin' in th'strangers, ain't't?"

. "I spent a lot of my young life cloistered, but I've spent many years traveling, and to be honest, I'm in no hurry to be put walls between myself and the world again. I do intend to pay my proper respects one day soon."

"And you still call yourself brother," I say mildly. "I suppose old habits die hard," and I smile at him.

"Mebbe ye're here t'join th'church?"

"There is a church of Jesus here in town," I agree. "I have visited it; it seems quite pleasant."

"I've a scientific education, knowledge of woodscraft, and a number of experiences that could prove salient."

"Those sound useful indeed," I say, "although I wonder if a knowledge of the supernatural would be more helpful here..."

"Well, 'is thin's surely bringin' in th'strangers, ain't't?"

"Aweh."

I look to where Syl is gazing and see a tall, slender woman, who greets us with a word I don't recognise, but I understand the intent, and so I give her a little bow.

"The woods are crowded today," I say, a little wryly. "Particularly on such a rainy day."

Syl wonders aloud if I've come to join the local church, and Noma finds me continuing to style myself 'Brother' peculiar, given the length of my absence from the cloister. I spare all assembled any number of possible lengthy justifications based in the long history of mendicant orders of wandering friars, or solitary anchorites, and instead just hold my hands with palms up and shrug helplessly. She doesn't seem to mean anything by it, and I return her smile. I even chuckle at her joke, and affect to cast my eyes gently heavenward as though in a good-natured plea for patience. Inwardly I want to groan.

But what she says next draws me up short.

"Those sound useful indeed, although I wonder if a knowledge of the supernatural would be more helpful here..."

If I hadn't mastered my emotions long ago, my mouth would be hanging open wide enough for woodland creatures to nest in. As it is, I blink perhaps more than is necessary to clear the rain from my eyes, and let a few beats of silence pass. "Ah. Right. Fair enough. I'm afraid I might be somewhat less useful in that department. Slept right through that portion of my education, no doubt."

What, exactly have I stumbled onto? Local superstition? I find myself cautiously excited for the first time since my arrival. At last I have a thread to start unraveling.

I look to the others, study their faces to see if they find her remark unusual, and then move to one side to ostensibly begin a slow inspection of the damage. Mainly I want to keep an ear cocked to whatever conversation that follows.

Mean, we ain't away, exactly, but it's still a bit fuzzy. Like the time with Miss Lannie and that bastard Donner, 'cept I'm pretty sure it ain't that bad. Damn glad for the rain, for a change, 'cause when I get out ta here I can see what was done--maybe not how--and the thought of all this catchin' and burning...

Well, ain't the only one out here, an' guess I ain't that surprised. See Chester an' a woman with him standing off quiet ta one side, and nod to him, but leave it at that, make my way through the rest of the blast ta the three women and the man standin' there.

"I wonder if a knowledge of the supernatural would be more helpful here..."

"Could be, ma'am," I say, coming up. "'magine we c'n manage that," though I don't look over at Chester, 'cause I ain't gonna draw attention ta a deputy who's tryna keep his head down. "Miss Thorn, Brother Samuel, ladies..." Trail off an' I straighten up, getting a look at the two women I don't know, 'cept I think I ought to know one.

"Morning, ladies," I say, nodding to the one picking at the tree. "Deputy Hollow." Turn ta the other and dip my my head a bit, and taking off my hat never mind the rain. "I ain't-- I am afraid that if we've met, ma'am, then I have missed your name." Maybe at the Dormouse, I guess, but not anytime I can place. Strangest damn idea runs through my head, that maybe I knew her sister back before, maybe Waterkey knew her, maybe...

"You bin out here long?" I say, glancing 'round at the four of them.

I know who he is, of course, this tall man who does not need to dream - or sleep, or eat. I wonder if this wet weather is bad for him. But he takes off his hat despite the rain, and that makes me smile.

I ain't-- I am afraid that if we've met, ma'am, then I have missed your name."

"I'm Noma," I say, "and I don't think we've met, Deputy. I live at the abbey."I smile at him. "I arrived only a few moments ago."

Jesus Christ, now th'law's gettin' involved. So much ferra quiet bloody mornin'. Startin' t'wonder if'n I need a new place t'hold m'rites. I nod t'th'lawman when'e says m'name, an' go back t'studyin' th'ground. "Ah. Right. Fair enough. I'm afraid I might be somewhat less useful in that department. Slept right through that portion of my education, no doubt." Th'monk says. Well, 'e'll be fair useless, 'en.

But'e did ask a fair question b'fore. "I di'n't see't. Wuz'n bed, but I sensed th'power, smelled th'smoke." Shake m'head. "Any'a you see what happened, 'sides from one helluva big fire?"

"Miss Noma," I say gravely. "Glad t'meet you, ma'am. Hope you're settlin' in well." Samuel's lookin' like he's tryna make himself useful, at least, and I glance from him back ta Thorn. But if Noma says she just got here a few minutes ago and she's bin at the Abbey guessin' they didn't come together... "C'n I ask what brought you out?"

"I di'n't see't. Wuz'n bed, but I sensed th'power, smelled th'smoke," Thorn says. Glance 'round t'wards the Carnivale, not that I c'n see it from here, and guess there was one helluva kick ta whatever happened. "Any'a you see what happened, 'sides from one helluva big fire?"

"Sorry," I say, shakin' my head. "Just heard 'bout it second-hand, an' I don't know that she saw much either. Ah..." Take another look around. Hell, don't know what happened here but pretty sure it wasn't some kids gettin' bored and sneakin' all the way out here with a bottle. Ain't never that simple.

"Miss Thorn? I'm guessing... mean, I've heard 'bout some a' your work... mean. Er." I sigh. "I'd sure 'preciate hearin' what you had ta say. If ya could."

I'm the odd man out, that much is clear. Even the ones who don't know each other still share the bond of community. I'm still on the outside, looking in. It's worth wondering whether they already know more than they're letting on. At least one person answers my question, and directs it to the others. And Deputy Hollow appears to gently be herding others toward some answers. But if I want to get to the bottom of things, I may have to do a little bit of legwork myself.

Supernatural indeed. If I need to channel the spirits of my ancestors or some such rot in order to break down a thermobaric reaction, I'd bloody well better just hang it up.

I need to be higher. Between all the people gathered around and the remnants of destruction scattered about, I just can't see what I need to see from down here. Looking around for a few moments, I find what looks like a good spot: a massing of debris, charred and twisted trunks and detritus, and not far enough from the main group to be completely out of earshot. I climb it nimbly enough, and find a roughly horizontal point on a snapped-off trunk some ten or twelve feet above the ground where I crouch to survey the area.

Hmmm. "There were multiple blast waves," I note, loud enough to be heard over the rain. "And of differing strengths." To the trained eye it is clear enough from the distribution pattern of the debris: things already leveled are flung farther than things being newly wrenched out of the ground by the blast. If we were high enough up and looking down, I imagine we'd see something like a series of rough concentric circles with distribution more and more uneven as one approached the edge. Something nags at me, but I can't quite determine what it is.

Climbing back down proves more difficult than climbing up, fighting gravity on the slick wood, but I manage to make it down without mishap. I test the ground, mud and ash, but... "Not much crystallization." Now that is unusual. Most explosives powerful enough to cause this kind of damage heat the blast area to nearly 2000 degrees Centigrade. "Unusual. From the blast alone, one would expect the temperature to be much hotter. There ought to be crystal nucleation, like you see if you dig where lightning has struck."

What could it have been? Magnesium burns much too hot, and a phosphorus reaction would probably still be potent enough to burn through our boots, rain or no rain. An explosion of natural gas? Can't rule it out, but where would the pressure have built up in all this open air? And it certainly wouldn't explain the pristine center.

I move to a spot near where the woman Syl was when I first approached, in the untouched hurricane's eye. A mystery of the first order, how such a blast happening just outside could have managed not to even flatten the... Hang on. The grass along one side is mashed, not just weighed down and sodden with water. Too widespread and evenly distributed to be the crisscrossing of foot traffic. A long, broad weight...

I drop to all fours in the sodden grass, my nose not two inches from the ground as I run my fingers through the creases and folds of the grassblades, until-- I examine the red-brown muck under my fingernails. "Someone may have been lying here. There was blood. Quite a lot of it, I should imagine. Else not even this bit would have survived the rain."

"Glad t'meet you, ma'am. Hope you're settlin' in well."

"I am, thank you," I say, smiling. "Everyone at the abbey is very kind."

Brother Samuel makes a detailed examination of the place, and I am curious. He seems to know a great many things for a monk. Not that monks cannot be educated, but not normally in matters such as these. But his next words catch me.

"Blood?" I kneel down next to him. "I don't suppose there's any way to tell if it is animal or human."

"Sorry," th'lawman says, an' shakes'is head. "Just heard 'bout it second-hand, an' I don't know that she saw much either. Ah...Miss Thorn? I'm guessing... mean, I've heard 'bout some a' your work... mean. Er. I'd sure 'preciate hearin' what you had ta say. If ya could."

I nod, cuzzit is rather what I do. Part'a me thinks I oughta ask fer payment, if'n th'bloody town 'ffic'als's gettin' involved, but I bite't back. We's all here, annit wouldn't be nothin' more'n I'd be doin' on m'own, so...

"From what I can tell," I says, pacin' 'round th'edges 'a th'circle, "...well. Pretty clear't wuzza blast'a power. Likely fire. But't don't feel like anythin't wuz meant, if'n y'get m'meanin'. Feels like..." Pause, shake m'head 'gain. "Feels like'n amateur. But not total, annat's what's buggin' me." Look up, an'ey's starin't me, an'I sigh. "Well, look, see'ere, where th'grass ain't scorched'n th'middle? 'at feels t'me like a circle'a protection. Annat ain't 'n amateur's trick. A real bloody amateur woulda gotten'emselves broiled 'long wit' th'trees. So somebody here knows t'protect'erself, but can't control 'er own powers. I don't rightly get't, t'be honest."

Just finished sayin'is when th'monk, Samuel, calls, "Someone may have been lying here. There was blood. Quite a lot of it, I should imagine. Else not even this bit would have survived the rain."

"Blood?" Says Noma, "I don't suppose there's any way to tell if it is animal or human."

"Lemme see," I says, walkin' over t'em. I see what Samuel means - there's a smeared red stain on th'grass. Bend down, take onna th'blades'a grass 'tween m'fingers, an'I roll't cross m'tongue, suckin' onnit.

An'en I freeze.

"'scuse me," I says, grittin' m'teeth. "I gotta find someone who oughta be dead an' kick'm square'n th'balls."

Huh. Samuel's on 'bout some things I ain't following the particulars of, though if it boils down to not that hot, several times over guess I c'n follow it. Copy down what he's sayin' for Mab, though, holdin' my hat over the page in my off hand ta keep it dry. Way he's describin' it...

God pounds his nails. Fer a second I imagine what that'd look like, an' I look around in the rain and shiver.

"Pretty clear't wuzza blast'a power. Likely fire. But't don't feel like anythin't wuz meant, if'n y'get m'meanin'. Feels like... Feels like'n amateur. But not total, annat's what's buggin' me," Thorn says.

"Well, look, see'ere, where th'grass ain't scorched'n th'middle? 'at feels t'me like a circle'a protection. Annat ain't 'n amateur's trick. A real bloody amateur woulda gotten'emselves broiled 'long wit' th'trees. So somebody here knows t'protect'erself, but can't control 'er own powers. I don't rightly get't, t'be honest."

"Maybe..." Think about it a sec an' shake my head. "Could she be used ta the protectin', and just started flailin' round for the rest? Like used ta usin' a shield, an' then tryna beat someone over the head with it?"

An' then Samuel finds blood, an' aw hell. Close my eyes a second. Miss Noma goes and kneels down.

"You sure it's from the same time?" I say. Mean, bin more'n a day. Can see one person comin' out ta look, another showin' up and bad luck says the two have some kinda grudge goin'...

"'scuse me. I gotta find someone who oughta be dead an' kick'm square'n th'balls."

Gotta say I was not expectin' that.

"Miss Thorn?" I say carefully. "Ah-- mean, could you--" And then it dawns on me, cold and clear and awful, who oughtta be dead and could maybe get that kinda reaction. Can feel the candle buckle and flare inside me, and put one hand up as if I were tryna shade my eyes. Just workin' on keepin' the rain outta them.

"C'n I help you with the finding?" is what I settle on. Because Christ damn well knows that if Donner is around I'd like to know soon as I can and get him caught quicker than that.

I cannot quite follow all that is being said by the others, and it isn't just Syl's clipped words that I mean. Unfamiliar terms are being bandied about-- well, not that the words themselves are unfamiliar, but their usage suggests loadings that escape me completely. Terms like 'power,' 'circle of protection,' and so forth. I commit them to memory, falling still and quiet as I listen.

The strangest bit is, even though some of them don't even know each other, all of them are on the same wavelength, speaking the same shorthand, operating from the same basic assumptions. Something in that garbled jargon explained it all for them, and I realize that they don't even have to hide things from me: like a child being talked over by adults, I simply lack the knowledge to understand. It is incredibly frustrating, their certainty doubly so. No one asks anything like 'Even if someone in the center could somehow survive such a blast, what were they breathing in an inferno-created vacuum?' For them, the capacities of the central active mechanism are clear, therefore the question irrelevant.

Noma joins me after I find the blood, a salve to a wounded pride I hadn't even known I possessed. I'm about to tell her that with the blood having dried and then been reconstituted by rain, I would need a microscope-- and then Syl comes over and tastes the thrice-damned bloodstained grass. I think for a moment that I know what she's up to, tasting for the differences in iron and copper content that can differentiate human from animal blood, and I am impressed. Though I don't think it'll work. Too many of the trace elements would have been leached out by rain.

But her face hardens in --recognition?-- and I realize I'm off. Way off.

"Ought to be dead?" I repeat neutrally, running on autopilot as my brain continues to scramble. "Can I assume you mean something a bit more than just that he was recently lying prone and bleeding out in the middle of a pyroclasm?"

Should be dead. The deputy's face goes still, like a candle blown out, but I don't think he has the right idea. I ignore Brother Samuel, because he has no idea what's going on, no matter his effort to cover that with long words, and right now what Syl is saying is more important.

"Is it -" I say to her, and roll my eyes skyward. She knows who I mean.

Edited 2012-02-19 23:02 (UTC)

'm tryin' t'breathe out hard through m'nose. S'bout th'only thin't's keepin' me from screamin' curses 'n puttin' m'fist through a fuckin' tree. Tez. Fuckin' Tez. 'e puts me'n Genny through alla'is an'e comes waltzin' right back like't ain't nothin'...

"Miss Thorn? Ah-- mean, could you--C'n I help you with the finding?" S'th'lawman, an'I dunno what bizness'e'd have wit' Tez. 'e sounds scared too, almost, an'I dunno what reason th'town law'd have t'be scared'a Tez. Well, no reason't wouldn't also lead t'bein' scared'a me. So I don't rightly know what'e's on 'bout.

Luck'ly Samuel jumps in. "Ought to be dead? Can I assume you mean something a bit more than just that he was recently lying prone and bleeding out in the middle of a pyroclasm?"

"Y'can." I says, bit sharp. Nanshe's lookin' worried, an' she turns'er eyes up t'th'sky. Yeah, she gets't, an'I nod when she looks back't me. Tez. What th'bloody hell'd 'e manage? Did'e come back jes' now? Izzis what happened when'e shoved'imself back inta meat? 'r did'e jes' fuck up like'e always duz?

Finish copying down what Samuel was saying--pyroclasm, that's a new one--and look over at him. He's seeming a bit taken aback; guess that even if he'd studied something like this, first time seein' it would be a bit of a shock. And ain't getting the feeling he quite looked inta this, which is a damn shame. Think of Waterkey's books for a moment, and wonder what happened ta the rest of them...

Ain't no use wool-gatherin' right now.

"Miss Thorn," I say, clearing my throat, "you said you figured someone knew how to protect herself. And now you're lookin' for a man. That mean there was at least two people out here?"

I meet Deputy Hollow's gaze for a moment, uneasily remembering that glimpse of flame behind his eyes my first day in town. I may not understand the conversation, but there are undercurrents I can easily taste. It seems likely that certain parties are being less than entirely forthcoming with Deputy Hollow. Most interesting. It may be that the institution of law (and by extension law enforcement) in Excolo is simply too informal to command respect. Then again, it may be that some of those assembled have something to hide.

And in a strange way, I don't have to include myself in that count. I conceal or distort almost everything about myself, but my local history is pristine. All my skeletons are buried elsewhere. It's my favorite part of traveling, the unburdened shoulders of a new beginning. Before, as always, more skeletons collect. And then moving on once more. Ad infinitum.

I shift to sit cross-legged on the wet grass, and withdraw my small book and a sharpened bit of charcoal from the inside pocket of my slicker. Sheltering it from the rain, I sketch the area in detail. Blast patterns. Debris. First an overhead look, and then again in isometric. I note the positions of each assembled with an 'x,' and write what names I know in the margins.

And then I turn the page and begin sketching faces.

"Miss Thorn, you said you figured someone knew how to protect herself. And now you're lookin' for a man. That mean there was at least two people out here?"

Tha's th'lawman, an'I hafta shake m'self outta m'thoughts. "Jes' used 'she' azza g'neric. Wuzn't act'ally sayin't wuz def'nitely a woman." Well, there izza gen'ral feel'f a woman 'round'ere...but'at ain't completely certain, 'spec'ally not after'at long. An anyway, Tez c'n turn'imself inta a woman. I know'at much,.

"S'poss'ble 'ere wuz more'n one person out'ere, but I can't really be sure. Might be able t'tell if'n'I went inta trance, but can't be sure."

"Do you think whatever happened here was bringing him back?" I say to Syl thoughtfully. Magic has been done here on a great scale, I think... I miss my gifts. Tonight I can dreamwalk, and see if I can find him, but for the moment I feel helpless.

"Jes' used 'she' azza g'neric. Wuzn't act'ally sayin't wuz def'nitely a woman," which is kinda odd, but okay. "S'poss'ble 'ere wuz more'n one person out'ere, but I can't really be sure. Might be able t'tell if'n'I went inta trance, but can't be sure."

"Well," I say, now that I'm thinking about it, "when someone's bleeding that much," and I point to the patch on the ground with the end of my notebook, "usually means someone else did it to them. Which I shoulda thought of. So 'less someone lit everything up without anyone else around," which I mean I guess they could have, just I don't usually think people get scared and try to lash out less someone's around, "and then killed themselves and the body just disappeared after bleeding a lot, probably was someone else." Lord. Wonder if it's like that mess with Voronin, the fire there. Could stand a little ice for destruction, m'self, be a nice change.

"Do you think whatever happened here was bringing him back?" and oh Christ I hope not, and Miss Noma looks a little lost. Widowed, almost, which is a damn odd thought.

"Er," I say politely. "Ladies? C'n I trouble you ta mention who, exactly? It's kinda an important point. Specially if there's gonna be trouble."

"Do you think whatever happened here was bringing him back?" Asks Nanshe. S'a question't brings me back from jes' bein' angry, 't least, an' makes me act'ally bloody think again.

"No." S'what I say fin'lly. "This feels like somethin' uncontrolled, like somebody jes' lashin' out't random. Don't feel like no sorta creation'r res'rrection...jes' d'struction." Think ferra minute 'n sweep m'wet hair back from m'face. "Now, not sayin't 'ere cant be d'struction azzan aftermath t'some creation spells...tit fer tat, 'n all'at...but 'at'd leave some trace, y'know? 'n I ain't gettin' none'a that."

Th'lawman makes a good point, then. "Well, when someone's bleeding that much, usually means someone else did it to them. Which I shoulda thought of. So 'less someone lit everything up without anyone else around, and then killed themselves and the body just disappeared after bleeding a lot, probably was someone else."

"Could be," I nod. "Could'a been a reflex t'bein' attacked, 'is sorta thin'...but mind, anybody found a body, 'r bones? Cuz I ain't seen nothin'. An' innat sorta sit'ation, gen'rally th'attacker's th'first thin' t'go."

"Ladies? C'n I trouble you ta mention who, exactly? It's kinda an important point. Specially if there's gonna be trouble."

"Don't think't's nobody you know," I says witta sigh. Don't think Tez'n th'dep'ty ever ran inta each other. "'n anyway, dunno if'n he...'r she...looks th'same, 'r's even usin' th'same name."

Oh god, who the hell'd want ta bring him back? I can't imagine, and I don't wanna know. Syl isn't guessing it was meant ta do that, though. "Now, not sayin't 'ere cant be d'struction azzan aftermath t'some creation spells...tit fer tat, 'n all'at...but 'at'd leave some trace, y'know? 'n I ain't gettin' none'a that." Goes on ta there being no traces of the attacker, and I mutter acknowledgement, 'cause that makes sense, but...

"Given what happened ta the trees," I say, "I think lookin' ta find anything left over of anyone this was actually aimed at is maybe a bit optimistic." Traces of blood left after a lot of bleedin' inside a protected spot, okay. Pieces of someone that maybe set off the kind of reaction that hammered down and did this ta the trees and land as a side-effect...

Just sayin' I wouldn't hold my breath. If, you know, it mattered.

"Don't think't's nobody you know," which is a bit of good luck. Sigh at that, mostly in relief. "Not Donner, then."

I listen to what Syl says, and nod.

"Still, if he is back... We should find him," I say. Who knows what kind of state he may be in. Or what he may intend to do. I have no trust of the Enemy of Both Sides.

"Not Donner, then."

I shake my head.

"Not a man," I say. There are no answers I can find here, only questions, and I have much to think about.

"Given what happened ta the trees, I think lookin' ta find anything left over of anyone this was actually aimed at is maybe a bit optimistic." Says th'dep'ty, soundin' right gloomy.

"Human body's harder t'burn'n y'might think." I says, lookin' 'round. "Chances are we'd see somma th'big bones...leg, skull, hip, 'at sorta thin'...mebbe th'heart too, though some critter mighta carried'at off. Jes'd 'spect t'see some trace, y'know? Rather'n nothin'."

Then'e mutters somethin' I almost don't catch. "Not Donner, then."

'course'e says'at right when'm lightin' up a cig, an'I end up spittin't out onta th'grass. "Good fuck no!" I says, gaspin'. "Who'n Christ's name'd want that fucker back?"

Edited 2012-03-06 18:04 (UTC)

"Human body's harder t'burn'n y'might think," which is a fair point. An' Miss Nanshe seems ta know who she means as well, which is rather gettin' me curious over all--

Take a damn quick step back as Syl spits out her cigarette, and barely stop myself from steppin' on the damn thing, even if it's raining. Damn things. Pick it up, anyway, and offer it back to her, 'case it's still any good.

"Who'n Christ's name'd want that fucker back?"

"C'n think of a coupla people, maybe. Not in his name, though." Wanda's ex-husband. Karina or Maryk or Leah, if they had some idea of pinning it on him instead. Someone who took it especially hard over one a' the women he killed and wants him back just ta hurt him--hope like Christ it isn't that.

"Er..." Sigh and run my hand back over my head, and my fingers come away wet--still holding my hat over my notebook to keep it dry. "Miss Thorn," I say, quiet an' polite. "You mentioned maybe seein' more if you went into a trance; was wonderin' how likely that was. An' I'm guessing you both know who it was that came back, and I understand," dipping my head to Miss Noma, "if ya feel you can't tell me. But I'd surely appreciate anything eithera you can tell me, since the general tone of your moods on this is havin' me worry some 'bout the state of my town, an' what might be done to it."

Edited 2012-03-07 23:08 (UTC)

"Who'n Christ's name'd want that fucker back?"

"C'n think of a coupla people, maybe. Not in his name, though."

"This town," I say sadly, "unfortunately has a few people who might want a dangerous man back."

"You mentioned maybe seein' more if you went into a trance; was wonderin' how likely that was. An' I'm guessing you both know who it was that came back, and I understand, if ya feel you can't tell me. But I'd surely appreciate anything eithera you can tell me, since the general tone of your moods on this is havin' me worry some 'bout the state of my town, an' what might be done to it."

I glance at Syl, but I have far more loyalty to the town - my town - than to her, even though I like her. And I trust Deputy Hollow; he was made to serve, and now he serves Excolo with his whole straw heart.

"It's a god who has come back," I say frankly. "And I don't think he means ill, but he doesn't usually mean well, either. Nothing might come of it; he lived here mostly quietly enough before. But." I shrug, and sigh. It's getting cold out here, from all the rain.

"It's a god who has come back. And I don't think he means ill, but he doesn't usually mean well, either. Nothing might come of it; he lived here mostly quietly enough before. But." An' there ain't nothing I can really say to that for a minute. Don't like the idea of gods trolling through town in the first place, since the ones we've had showin' up in the last year don't generally seem ta be doin' much good, an' can't say I think much of the judgment of whoever brought him back.

'course, that leads ta the question of what the hell got him getting gone in the first place...

"Thank you, Miss Noma," I say, touching my hand ta my forehead. Rain's dripping in my eyes, I guess. "I'll be takin' a look into that." Wish I could offer her my coat or somethin', but it ain't as if she didn't dress sensibly for comin' out. Still. "C'n see you and Miss Thorn back, when you care t'leave."

Dep'ty hints on me goin' inta trance, an'I ain't real eager t'do'at. Not wittis many folk 'round. But Nanshe steps in. "It's a god who has come back. And I don't think he means ill, but he doesn't usually mean well, either. Nothing might come of it; he lived here mostly quietly enough before. But."

Wish she hadn't gone inta'at much detail, but guess th'dep'ty wuzn't gonna leave us 'lone 'less'e got some kinda answer.

Dep'ty nods an' thanks'er. "I'll be takin' a look into that. C'n see you and Miss Thorn back, when you care t'leave."

"'m okay," I says, shruggin'. "Jes' gotta get back t'th'lot mself." take a handful 'a ashes, pull up some grass'n earth from th'unburned circle. Like t'havva good look later. "Guess'll see you folks 'round."

the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes...

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