TheFaceBehindTheSkin[continued from A Night to Remember] The Dark Hour invaded the group’s sanctuary with the familiar persistence and inevitability of an unpleasant family member. The walls began to molt and bleed like cracked skin, the floor bloomed with pungent mold and detritus. Furniture became malformed with rot or transmogrified into alien parodies of their former shape. The fireplace erupted with greenish flame, adding eerily to the corruptive moonlight oozing through the stained windows. The once beautiful waterfall outside became the gutter of an unseen abattoir, vomiting an endless stream of torn flesh and blood. And yet, more positive changes became immediately evident. Temnal’s makeshift wards [Veil Mind] began to sparkle like sapphires – offering an aura of welcome solace. The cursed mirror that had troubled Gillian faded like smoke – as did the creepy pink bear. Oddly, several of the weapons conjured and magically treated by the trio of Gillian, Joao, and Seabhac disappeared as well. However, the blades that did remain began to glimmer wickedly, their edges sharpening to remarkable keenness. Even slightly tipsy, Gillian realized that each surviving weapon had been handled by Joao. Joao held one of the surviving blades in his hand. It looked, to Gillian, Cole Cynwyd, and Seabhac that the hellblade belonged there in his hand. What disturbed Joao was the fact that a part of him seemed to think so too. Joao resisted the urge, not always successfully, to rub his thumb gently along the flat part of the blade, like the gentle caress of a man granted permission to touch a Rebman lady for the first time. Cole and Cynwyd had confirmed that the lower floor remained unpopulated, so they were now truly and completely alone. But somewhere along the way, they’d lost track of Rusalka. The pink-haired girl had turned a corner and simply ceased to exist. With the crushing weight of the approaching Dark Hour, they’d been forced to return to the lab without discovering her fate. As the clock struck midnight, Gillian and Seabhac shared an anxious moment. Hand in hand, Gillian felt her boyfriend’s skin turn cold and stony. It felt as if her fingers were being encased in grave dirt – the warmth and life draining away. His features darkened as the coffin-like chrysalis enveloped him. And then she could feel his pulse, regain strength and warmth. His skin shed its obsidian mask and his face returned to its normal state. “Serpent save me,” he muttered in muted terror, seeing the Dark Hour for the first time. "Well, that worked," Gillian remarked as she squeezed Seabhac's hand. She clutched Ginger tightly with her other arm. "Welcome to hell." Seabhac gave a barking laugh, “I’ve been to hell. This is something different. Much different.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Remind me not to go vacationing with you." He gave her a playful pout. “I guess our Abyss-side honeymoon is a no-go, then?” Gillian opened her mouth to give a sharp retort but shut it again just as quickly, caught off-guard by Seabhac's choice of words. She blushed. "Da," Joao said. "We now know that we can bring others into it." "Some others, at least," noted Temnal. He wondered if it would be possible for someone with less magical ability, or who lacked the blood of Chaos or Amber. "It worked for my brother too," Gillian added, "much to my dismay. And his." [Joao] turned toward Seabhac. "Now you see what Gillian, and the rest of us so chosen, see every night. Sixty minutes of this, while the rest of the world remains still. "Should we go outside and show him, from the outside, the coffins of those who sleep through this?" Joao suggested. "The coffin that you were briefly in, for a moment just now," Joao clarified to Seabhac. Seabhac cautiously began to tour the altered chamber, his eyes blazing behind his glasses. He touched his chin, mouth opening without sound, over and over again. He shook his head numbly. “Unbelievable. Even with all you said, I doubted this could be possible.” "We might also," Temnal commented, glancing around the changed room, "see if we can find another mirror. But we shouldn't be too long about it." "Did you...want to join with your Other tonight?" Gillian asked him. "I can't tell you that yet," Temnal replied, "until we find out who he is. But I do wish to learn that." Joao nodded at Temnal's response. "That would be a good first step." "We went to the trouble to bring him to this glamorous place," Cole said. "Might as well give him the full tour." He picked up one of the blades, and made a few experimental passes with it. Seabhac turned toward Cole, his shoes squeaking in a dark stain on the floor. “I might not be that useful to you, Cole. My connections to the Pattern and the Logrus have been… cut. “I can sense them. But there is a barrier. My father once told me of a cave he encountered. It blocked his access to the Trumps. I suspect the same could be said here.” His gaze went to Gillian, “But you mentioned having access to the Powers here, didn’t you?” She shuddered and nodded. Cole took a large moldy book off a warped and rotted shelf. As he hefted in in his left hand its pages writhed, trying to grasp and cling to his skin. He tossed it into the air, then slashed it with his wicked-looking blade. The book feel in two lumps to the floor. Temnal winced. Satisfied, Cole thrust the blade through his belt, then cursed as its keen edge parted the leather strap just as easily. Ginger – half conscious – gave a worried cry. “Careful! You might snip off something important! And that’d be a waste. Hilarious, but a waste.” "I would have picked something else to test the sharpness of the blade, Cole," Joao said wryly. "As far as powers, my magical abilities are extremely modest. I suspect that the imbuing of the blades that I apparently did was thanks to Delwin." "Or maybe its because I fight well with them," Joao added. "They are a part of who, what I am, here." Seabhac examined one of the weapons, testing its weight with a few swings. For a gangly nerd, he handled a sword surprisingly well. “I believe it’s a combination of the two, Joao. These are true conjurations. Even separated from the Pattern, I can sense these are some serious handiwork. Way better than anything the Family could create.” He set the blade on the main table, “No wonder they called Delwin, ‘The Custodian.’” "The Custodian?" Joao enquired. “He had a peculiar habit of collecting Constructs – conjurations infused by the Powers,” Seabhac explained. “Not because he would utilize them, but because he didn’t wish the Family to obtain them.” <Well, do you blame me?> Delwin guffawed in Joao’s head. <Not exactly> Joao admitted mentally. Outwardly, he nodded to Seabhac. "I thought he might have been a smith of some kind." Gillian felt a hungry sound escape her lips. <Oh Yummy!> Apparently she knew how to purr, after all. She clapped her hands over her mouth. <Go back to sleep!> <Not tonight, crumb cake. Not ever again.> Gillian’s fingers began to wiggle on their own, as if connected to invisible strings. <Time to step up or step aside.> She jerked her hands back behind her and sat down on them, hoping no one was paying any attention to her. Cole glanced at Gillian, one eyebrow raised, but said nothing. Cynwyd had been pondering something, and that bit brought it to fore. He asked those assembled as much as Osric, "Are those bound to you chosen by aptitude? Or is it mere random chance?" Osric stirred at this question. <There is function and form in our bonding, of that I can determine. As to what purpose, that remains a mystery.> Gillian turned to look at Cynwyd, her expression troubled. <Indeed> Cynwyd thought back, even while regarding Gillian idly, his expression not troubled, but rather—resigned. "I wonder if somehow Bob made us from something of them," Cole said, "Like a new building made from the bricks of an old one." "Its even possible that Bob had no choice in the matter as to whom to bond to each of us," Joao said. Cynwyd absorbed what each of them said, not ready to ask any further questions aloud. He didn't think that Osric would have any information about this 'Bob', so he'd have to gather further information on his own, it seemed. The young emperor returned to Gillian’s side, his hand seeking hers, "I'll be right here if you do the Joining, Gilly. But don't do it if you're still uncomfortable. There are plenty of people here who can go first." The girl shook her head. "I don't want to. But I think Temnal does." "Yeah, me too. I want to get this over with before I lose my nerve," Cole said. "Maybe someone can conjure a mirror? Hey, and while you're at it, anyone here know how to mend a belt?" "I do not know such arts," Joao said. "Although finding another mirror should not be difficult. One hopes it would not be as fraught with import and history as the last mirror I found." Joao felt his arms begin to act on their own accord. He spoke, but the voice sounded comical and distinctly moose-like. “Nothin’ up my sleeve. This time for sure! Presto!” His hands flew about with dramatic flourish, knitting the very air in front of him like a tapestry. It solidified into a silvery plate – 2’ by 2’ – and highly reflective. <Don’t sell yourself short, kid> Delwin sighed. <And no brain-suckers attached to this one. At least, I don’t think so.> <Wouldn't dream of it. Just had no idea this was in your reef> Joao responded, running his fingers on the plate. Seabhac stood there, jaw hanging open. “Uh…well, okay then.” Gillian watched the proceedings askance. "I had no idea Delwin could do that," Joao said modestly. Joao examined the reflective surface. "This is nice enough that Mother might even deign to have it hang in her house," he said in admiration. "That ought to work," Cole said. He strode over toward Joao and the mirror, paused, and held out his sword, hilt first, to Cynwyd. "Hey, um, maybe you'd better hold this for a minute." "I suppose it depends on what you plan to do," Cynwyd said, crossing his arms. "Have you really thought about this? Have you even talked to Finndo about this? Bound to us, they may be, but us they are not—at least not now," he continued. "I'm not Osric, and though I'll support you, I won't do it blindly." Seabhac looked around for a place to sit; thought better of it considering the choices. “Well, I don’t want to be pushy, but there’s no time like the present. If things go awry, we’re here for you Cole.” "Exactly how are we 'here for him'?" Cynwyd replied. "What can we do if something does go wrong?" Cole pointed at the blade in Cynwyd's hand. "You can keep me from killing my classmates." Joao gave a reluctant nod at Cole's explanation. He glanced at the blade in his own hand and then looked at Cole. Temnal did the mental equivalent of Joao's action by bringing the Chains of Loki spell to the front of his mind. Hopefully if Cole's body started doing anything destructive, it could be immobilized. Temnal also hoped someone was ready to do the same for him when it was his turn. As Temnal summoned the spell, he felt his entire being burn with an inner power he’d never known since Sekhmet allowed him to observe her hell-dance with the Logrus. The cacophonous display had stripped away his very essence, as if he were a candle in a bonfire. Once again, he could feel the magic flooding through him, threatening to spill out into the room like a tempest. Only his mental aptitude prevented the energies from escaping into the world. <Careful, lad> a voice came in callous admonishment. He looked into Joao's mirror, at the reflection that was not his own. He took a deep breath, released it, and said to the face in the mirror, "I name you, Finndo." "Damn you, Cole," Cynwyd said, then forced into action by Cole's impetuousness, took the blade from his hand with little less care than he would have normally, leaving a crimson line across Cole's hand. He hoped that wasn't a foreboding of things to come. <Was it like this for you, also?> he silently queried, more than a little bitterness in his thoughts. Another wry laugh filled Cynwyd’s mind. <His last act of impetuousness sentenced resulted in the deaths of 25,000 men and women, including myself apparently. The Karm Vendetta, I believe it was called. We shall see how much blood is spilled this night.> <Yes, I see...> Cynwyd thought in response to Osric's cynical statement. <And they wondered why I thought this was a bad idea> He marvelled at how cool his response was to a not-dead elder suddenly appearing in the room... but then again, the night was young. <I don't suppose you have any ideas how I can take care of this without making things worse, do you?> Osric gave a hissed warning <Too late!> Cole’s words resonated through the room like a bell being struck. In one instant, he stood alone, facing the doppelganger in the mirror. The next, he was being strangled by a very real and brutish man of imposing height and mass. Even one-handed, Finddo lifted Cole into the air and began to squeeze. “I am the Shadow. The True Self. And you are nothing but a weakling. A milksop. And your whining is at an end.” Helpless as he was – his larynx beginning to crack – Cole sensed… fear. Primal fear. And it wasn’t his own. Seabahc defensively stepped in front of Gillian, raising his blade. “Holy sheep $%^&! Is this normal?!” Eyes wide, Gillian shot up off the bench. She clutched Ginger tightly to her chest and clamped down mentally on anything that Cybele might do. Ginger let out a startled gasp, mewing in distress. “Hot! Hot! HOT!” Gillian’s hands glowed blue… and Ginger’s fur began smoldering. <Let me out and I’ll deal with this wraith my way!> Cybele growled. Gillian drew in a sharp breath and dropped Ginger onto the bench. <NO!> she shouted at Cybele, remembering what happened the last time her hands glowed, the thought of someone getting hurt because of her more than she could bear. Leave! she told herself. Leave before you lose control! An image of The World trump appeared in her mind, her eidetic memory painting it with all the detail and clarity of the original. If only she had the trump in front of her so she could use it! Musk and sage, blue skies and rain-blessed earth... <Coward!> Cybele snarled. Ginger let out a yowl as she dropped to the floor. But her cry and the sounds of the room were abruptly cut short – lost in a silvery flash that temporarily blinded and deafened Gillian. [Gillian continued in Paradise Lost] Temnal had similar problems and was forced to mentally clamp down as hard as he could on his hung spell, since this wasn’t a good time to use it! The last thing he wanted was the apparition's fingers frozen in place, given where they were at the moment... It took a moment to steady his thoughts, but his logic appeared to appease the specter in his mind. <Agreed. However, if you require it, I have other spells at my disposal. Your companion would survive them relatively intact.> Meanwhile, Joao moved fluidly to flank Finndo with his blade. He held it in a position ready to strike at Finndo's left kidney at a moment's notice. Instead of striking, Joao spoke. "Let him go, Prince Finndo. I midwived the union of Rusalka and the Princess Coral, and I am going to midwive this one. Overwhelming Cole and killing him will do YOU no good. Let him go, or you will lose your unnatural life. You're outnumbered." Against another opponent, this threat would have likely succeeded. Unfortunately, the giant of a man standing before them had trained Prince Benedict when Amber had been little more than a motte-and-bailey. With a blinding flick of his free hand, he slapped a mold-encrusted pestle off the table and sent it smashing into Joao’s temple with unerring accuracy. Were it not for Delwin’s cat-like reflexes, the young noble’s skull would have shattered like angelwing shell Instead, the glancing blow laid him on the floor in heap – his consciousness fading in and out. Blood poured from the open gash just above his right eye, further inhibiting his vision. "Stupid..." Joao murmured, to himself, to Delwin, to the world. “I am the Shadow. The True Self,” Finndo laughed spitefully. “And have no time for some fish-wife pretending to be a man.” Although costly, Joao’s bravado had partially succeeded – distracting Finndo’s attentions from his current prey. Choking, Cole couldn't retort out loud. So with both his hands he grabbed at Finndo's hand—especially the thumb, where the grip was weakest. In his head he thought fiercely what he couldn't say out loud: <I told you before: I'm Cole di Perondor, I am my true self, and I AM IN CHARGE! And you!> He swung a kick at Finndo's shin. <Are the Shadow!> He swung a kick at Finndo's thigh. <Of a CORPSE!> He swung a kick at Finndo's groin. Cole felt his bones bruise from each impact – his wraith’s body like plate-armor. But nonetheless, Finndo’s grip released and Cole plummeted to the floor – blessed air rushing into his lungs. “Insolent pup! I am the True Self. And you are nothing!” he spit, raising his foot – preparing to crush Cole’s rib-cage. The blow never came. "Brother, cease this foolishness!" Cynwyd, who had moved out of Finndo’s line-of-sight, had yelled the order in a voice not his own. But Finndo recognized it and turned around, “Osric?” Cynwyd could feel the inner workings of his throat ripple and reshape until his vocal cords to mimic the Other’s voice perfectly. As a child of Chaos, he recognized the tingling sensation of a Shift… but this was something much more complex. Indeed, the sensation threatened to branch out to his face and body. "Closer at some times than others," Cynwyd/Osric said. Cynwyd was having a hard time distinguishing, especially under the duress of the situation, but struggled to maintain his identity. "But I'm here. And unless I miss my guess, you're about to make a mistake. Multiple mistakes, in fact." He paused for a moment as he felt his face ripple. <Let's get this straightened out first, shall we? If he kills Cole, not only do I lose a friend, but you lose your brother... again. A 'conduit' is used to conduct if you get my point.> <I am still at a loss regarding the specifics, but from what has been stated, I suspect your assumption is correct. Your body and mind appears to anchor me and allow me some interaction with the world. The same can likely be said for your companion. Death would doom them both.> Osric pauses. <I do not know what will happen if one mind dominates the other, however.> Cynwyd can sense the Amberite considering this… but perhaps not in regard to Cole’s current situation. Cynwyd attempted to hold two separate conversations and threads of thought at once. <We've had a ... mutually beneficial arrangement up to this point, even given the fact that I'm giving my life to the equation. But make no mistake, I'd prefer death of this vessel to giving it up to an interloper.> <We shall discuss the finer points of our arrangement at another time. But your feelings have been noted.> Osric conceded. Finndo appeared to be focused entirely on Cynwyd now. And for good reason. The student’s face appeared to smooth out, losing its features, as if some unseen hand were erasing it. New features began to form – hardened, cold, severe. They matched the voice emerging from Cynwyd’s throat. “What mistake?” Finndo snapped. “I am brushing this weakling aside, so I might live again. I am the Shadow. The True Self. You must know that, Osric. Join me. We have so much to do. There’s a kingdom to reclaim. Tell me why I should not kill this boy now?” <You think that I jest?> he thought in response to the changes. <I rather like my own features. He's seen enough. Restore them. Or I can very well commit suicide with just a word, your brother in the state he's in now.> Cynwyd’s features began to melt, restoring their former shape. <As you wish.> Aloud he continued, "He binds you to this place, Finndo. Much as I bind your brother." Though he put no attempt at swaying this Amberite behind his words, he was modulating the voice that was not his to be more soothing. "And just as a ship anchored in a storm, you will be swept back into the eddies of the death we both came from if you kill him, as surely as if you spilled your own lifeblood on the floor." Finndo gave another wry laugh. “This boy binds me to this place? Hah! Do you know how that thought insults me, Osric? The son of a King, bound to a whoring fool? No. I am the Shadow. The True Self. And I will claim this body. And then Amber will return to its eldest son. The boy does not even speak for himself now. So, claim your new skin and join me.” While Finndo was distracted, Cole crabwalked slowly out from under Finndo's raised heel, trying to keep his hoarse gasping as quiet as possible. Despite Finndo’s outward bravado, Cole feels another wave of apprehension radiate from his Other. Temnal, meanwhile, darted over to kneel by the fallen Joao. <Healing spells are what I need now,> he told the Voice in his head. Joao struggled to remain conscious and awake and only greeted Temnal's arrival with a soft moan of pain. To sleep was to invite death, Joao thought. Death for him, and perhaps for Delwin as well. Temnal’s Other gave a wry laugh. <Lending aid is not a subject I am well-acquainted with. But I shall endeavor to do as you ask.> Temnal’s hands gingerly cupped Joao’s bloodied head. A euphoric rush of power flooded his thoughts; altering his vision. He could see Joao’s outward appearance, as well as a ghostly image of his internal organs and skeletal structure. A lattice of fractures radiated outwardly from just above Joao’s temporal lobe. Blood had begun to fill the cavity, increasing the pressure on his brain. Death would come shortly. A crimson nimbus began to form around Temnal’s hands, arcane energies flowing into Joao’s skull. Joao’s pain numbed as the bone began to reknit itself and the pressure eased. Temnal, however, could feel his skull begin to spilt with a throbbing migraine – the spell’s power greedily drawing upon his mental endurance. Much more of this and he would likely collapse himself. Temnal's hand went almost reflexively to where the silver unicorn pendant hung around his neck, under his shirt. <Lady, help me!> he thought, imagining Her cool, moonlight energies soothing the pain in his skull. He had to hold on at least until Joao was out of danger... ~Hush, childe. Let me take your burden.~ the Lady said. The pain eased, allowing Temnal to focus the spell toward its completion. Death. In the red-rimmed half thoughts that Joao could still manage in his near death state, he could hear his mother's voice. Chastising him for being not strong enough. Not being good enough. Being only a man. Joao fought. For Raina, he thought. For his father. For Delwin and the problems that Mirelle and Bob had revealed. Gillian, Cole, and the others were counting on him. By time and tide, he fought for icy Mistress Isolde, tormentress and patroness at the same time. It might not be a fight he could win. His last breath might be moments away. But Joao Galitzin, of the House of Galtizin, Baron of Rebma, refused to die without that fight. Temnal could feel another burst of power; this time emanating from Joao. The Rebman was struggling back from the brink of death. His courage, his inner flame, added extra fuel to the healing spell. Combined with the Lady’s leant strength, Joao’s force will turned the table. The dark shadow of clotting blood disappeared from around the fracture. The skull itself reknitted until it appeared flawless. Gravity finally began to pull down on Temnal, urging him to lie on the floor and close his eyes. The exhaustion numbed his muscles and mind and soul – as if he’d emptied himself out like a water jug. Nothing remained within and his voices felt silent. Temnal yielded enough to the pull to let himself slide almost bonelessly to the floor, but he fought to keep his eyes open and stay awake. He didn't think it would be a good idea to lose consciousness with everything else that was going on in the room. ~Hush now~ The Lady whispered in his mind. The words soothed Temnal, as well as his Other. But just as his Other slipped into the ether, his frightened voice made a croaking whisper. <No. It can’t be you!> =He knows Her?= Temnal thought blearily. Joao’s head still throbbed, but the edges of his vision were beginning to widen. Standing up quickly might be inadvisable, but at least the specter of death was no longer tapping on his shoulder. "Thank you." Joao murmured. He wasn't sure who to thank. He suspected, as thoughts became clearer, that he had several parties to thank. Even as the pain continued to prove to Joao that he was still alive, Joao concentrated on his breathing, willing himself to relax, and let whatever healing had come from within in and without him to do its work. Cole got to his feet and faced the wraith. "I'm betting your brother is right. He seems like he'd know a lot more about that sort of thing than you or I would. This isn't a problem you can solve by smashing it. You can obviously beat me to death, but I think then you will be well and truly dead. Alternatively, we could help each other: I give you some ability to interact with the world you left, and you help me keep it from permanently becoming the nightmare you see around us. Your choice." Finndo turned around, “So the worm speaks!” He gave Cole a judicious glance and found the young man wanting. “Why do you still resist? I am the Shadow. The True Self. Let go and you shall fade. Perhaps in dreams you can live out your hedonistic desires. Wouldn’t that be easier? You’ve avoided responsibility all your life. Why make your stand now? There will be more than a woman’s honor to defend in this ordeal. And your rewards few.” Cole shouted back at the towering figure. "You think I don't know that? That I'm lazy and irresponsible and moreover, I want to stay that way? But I take my stand now because there's nowhere else to go. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that if the world goes, then I go with it. It doesn't take an angel to be a hero then. And you know what? If you were a bloody hero out of legend I'd do exactly as you say. I'd step aside and let you take over and do what you need to do, knowing it's better that I should die than everyone else die with me. But you're no hero. You're a bastard who led thousands of men to their death so you could have a chance to wear a fancy jeweled hat. I don't trust you to do what needs done. So I'm in this fight with or without you, but you're not doing squat without me." "Listen," Cynwyd said reasonably, "this arguing back and forth is doing little. You know the truth within yourself- though you prefer to show the outward appearance of the braggart, no one does all that you accomplished without a fair measure of intelligence." Ticking off points on his fingers, he continued. "First, from your own words, you know that you have been linked to him, that is a given. Second, you've been given the information that you require to come to the correct conclusion. Third, there is none here who could gainsay your decision, as shown by the damage you've already inflicted." He gestured towards Joao and Cole. "Work with us, or spiral back into whatever void you were before you were bound to Cole. Kill him or accept him." He looked fully at Finndo, standing closer to the Elder than he really wanted to. "But whatever you're going to do, act. So we can prepare for what comes, either with you, or while we mourn you." Finndo's eyes darkened as he glanced back and forth between Cole and Cynwyd. His ham-sized fists clenched and released, clenched and released. His entire body radiated anger and frustration. And then, he threw his head back and gave a hearty laugh. The mirthful and genuine roar shattered the somberness of the Dark Hour. “My brother speaks plainly. Just as he always has. It is time to act. "Perhaps, I’ve underestimated you, Boy. The last man that spoke to me in such a manner was Benny. And I beat the little whelp into a bloodied mess. But he came back for more. Always did. Something tells me you won’t let this go either. Nor can I deny your accusations. I am no hero. “And Amber needs one, aye? So, perhaps together, we can find a hero within us, eh? If we die, we die together. So, let us have bloody adventures together. And you can introduce me to the pleasures I have denied myself in the name of blood and mayhem.” He extended his meaty hand to Cole. “I am your Shadow. And you are mine. Apart we are nothing.” Cole clapped his hand into Finndo's. "I am your Shadow," he repeated, "And you are mine." Hoarsely, probably due to his damaged throat, he added, "We are the True Self." He held Finndo's hand for a moment, looking into the wraith's eyes, and a last little bit of resistance gave way. A feral smile spread across his face, and he added, "Let's kick some nightmare ass." Finndo laughed heartily, “Indeed!” He yanked Cole into a brotherly embrace – if said brother were a grizzly. Cole could feel his bones creak as the man hugged him. The crushing effect began to intrude into his mind, filling his skull to the breaking point. His skin stretched as if it were many sizes too small. But with that sensation also came a sense of power and overwhelming strength. Then the sensation relented, Finndo having disappeared like smoke. And yet he remained – for they were the same person. "Well, as much as I hate to intrude on such a touching display of camaraderie," Cynwyd interjected, "But I think this ... episode has gone to show me that I have a reckoning of my own to conduct- if now is the right time. “Where’d she go?” Seabhac yelled from the other side of the room. Ginger let out a startled cry. “She just dropped me and then she wasn’t there!” "I guess now isn't the right time," Cynwyd replied wryly. "Who did we lose?" Alarmed by the tone of Seabhac's voice, Temnal struggled into a sitting position. "What? Who went where?" He looked around the room. "Gillian?" Having little to do in his current state, movement being out of the question, besides breathing and healing, Joao only had his ears, and his still-weak voice to rely upon. "Teleport of some kind." Joao said. He wasn't sure he could be heard except by whoever healed him. (Temnal? He wasn't certain) but he pitched his voice toward Ginger and Seabhac. "Advanced magic. Maybe tied to her Shadow." And then he let his voice lapse again for a moment, to continue to rebuild strength. "But why?" Temnal whispered, too depleted himself to summon more volume. “That was the same effect as a Trump,” Seabhac explained, picking up the frightened Ginger. “But she didn’t have a deck with her. At least not one I saw. Still, we must concentrate on the present. Joao’s injured and well…” He turned toward Cole, “Are you feeling more yourself now? No impending outbursts of violence we should be aware of?” "I feel..." Cole said, thoughtfully. "I feel more myself. That's exactly it. I think I feel more myself than I ever have. Ever!" He slammed his fist down on a workbench as he said this. The bench cracked. Cole threw back his head and laughed. It was a rich, hearty, booming laugh, and hardly manic at all. Ginger regarded Cole from the safety of Seabhac’s arms, “Oooo-kay. Now that we’ve heard from Hercules, can hear from someone rational?” "Congratulations, Cole," Joao said weakly. "I am glad." He paused as a shot of pain ran through him. "It has succeeded." Joao raised a hand to try and get himself into a vertical position. After a moment,he discarded the effort and remained on the floor. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling and everything else in his limited view. "Maybe the brothers spooked her," Joao grimaced. "Time and Tide, first Rusalka, then Raina, and now Gillian." Seabhac stepped closer to the group, “Yes, the ‘sisters’ appear to have whisked our companions off somewhere.” His voice caught for a moment, his eyes darting back to where Gillian had once stood. Ginger wriggled in his arms, “Can we please get back to me?! She nearly set me on fire. Me! On fire! See my fur? Do you have any idea how long it’ll take to grow that back in. Hrm? Do you?” Seabhac scratched the familiar’s ear, “Despite our apparent setback, Cynwyd might have the proper notion. We may require your Others to seek the girl’s out.” Joao gave off a soft sound of frustration at Seabhac's words. In his condition, merging with Delwin might be fatal tonight...to both him and Delwin. Would he be doomed to be the weak fin in the group forever more? A word bubbled up from Delwin's mind. The Zeppo. What was a 'Zeppo'? Joao suddenly wondered <Given what we just went through>, Cynwyd thought, <am I to think that if we joined forces, we might have a bit less drama than Cole and your brother?> Osric considered this – his cold, alien thoughts wriggling in Cynwyd’s head. Finally, a sensation of conformity accompanied the Other’s words. <I believe a compromise might be reached. I do not wish to die again. And I sense your willingness to destroy us both rather than loss your individuality. There will be a struggle, however. Our souls shall react like drowning victims, regardless of our true wishes. Be wary.> Meanwhile, Temnal felt an icy trickle down his spine, as if someone had just walked over his grave. Even woolly-headed as he was, he realized that someone – or something – was probing the room’s wards; specifically in the hallway. Still sitting on the floor, Temnal turned his head toward the door to the hallway. "Someone's out there," he warned the others, "testing the wards." "'Someone' isn't very specific," Cole said. "Let's find out who, or what." He picked up Joao's long knife from where it had dropped when Finndo struck him. "Mind if I borrow this? Thanks!" And he strode toward the door. "Happy Hunting" Joao said. He found the strength to somehow nod in addition. Seabhac cast a glance at Cynwyd, “I’d ask if this was particularly wise, but something tells me, you’d say ‘does it matter.’” "You learn fast," Cynwyd said wryly, though his tone was a bit more tense than normal. <He does seem worse about it now, though> he added in his thoughts. Cole found the door opened without resistance. However, the instant her did, the air in the room grew colder and oppressive. Around the lab, Temnal’s glowing runes sputtered and sparked and then died, allowing the darkness to inch that much closer to total victory over the light. "Oops," Cole said. "That's ... not a good sign, I take it," Cynwyd muttered, moving closer to the door to watch Cole's back. In the corridor, he caught a glimpse of pink-hair and beauty stepping into the adjacent lab; Rusalka. And then something large and definitely /not/ Rusalka made a hungry noise from the room she’d just entered. Cynwyd had many vices—he'd even said on more than one occassion that his vices were what allowed him to live the life he led. But foremost amongst those was his weakness for a pretty face... "Hells Bells," he muttered as saw Rusalka over Cole's shoulder and stepped past him. [Cole and Cynwyd continued in To the Rescue] [Joao and Temnal continued in The Walking Wounded] |
