Inside 73: Holiday Rush

[bc56]

Arkham Street - Red Hook Pier
Moments before the fireball hits, Batsael disappears from reality. She reappears right-side up a few platforms ahead of the pair, a semi-automatic pistol in her hands, which sprays forth projectiles which look like TV static. Getting hit with one of these things won't do much damage, but it will scramble your nerve signals for a few seconds, a dangerous thing when you're so high off the ground. She follows this by jumping back to the next platform to avoid someone else's energy blast. "C'mon, it's like you're not even trying!"

Arkham Street - Black Goat Park
"I wasn't there, so I don't know," Jade replies. They hadn't even met yet.
The faun groping Tristan gets a wry look and a "Hands off." Jade isn't a Kumiho anymore (nobody's really sure what she is) but hopefully some of their reputation sticks to her. She is a nine-tailed fox after all.
Without a pause, she adds, "What I do know is that these guys make the best booze. If they could stay sober for long enough to run a business, they could make a killing."

Spirit Bomb
No time to stay and chat, with a path cleared and a crucible located Selekhael needs to get moving. She shouts to Benedict, "You need to get out of here! We can't let that thing take a human host! I have to go get what I need to stop it, you just run!" And then she's gone, running in the direction Ganabel indicated.

Selekhael> Ganabel thanks I'm heading there now
Selekhael> Radael, I have a friend who loves Law of Blades. Look up Sappeerel when you get a chance, I'm sure she'd love to talk to you
Selekhael> Arukhael, don't worry about me. I have this under control

Also, for Seraphina's information, Selekhael is a fairly normal looking human girl, maybe 17 years old. Black hair in a ponytail, fair skin, and blue eyes, wearing a long blue dress with spiral patterns on it and carrying two weapons: a flaming khopesh of metal as black as space and a strange shotgun that looks like it's made from a bunch of clock hands twisted together.

[Shadowcaller]

[Arkham Street - Black Goat Park]
Meanwhile!

"No, but an excuse is always welcome!" a satyr says to Jaahlyn, attracted to the group by the newcomer. Definitely a looker. It's that wolfy satyr, a real hunk. "So what animal you been ridin' babe? A goat"

"Nah, I think she IS a goat," says the pooka which is suddenly and inexplicably perched on Jaahlyn's head, leaning forward to peer at her with large, luminous golden eyes. The creature looks like a cross between a rabbit, a cat, and a goat and it is grinning at her with that way too wide mouth full of shiny white teeth. Before she has a chance to shoo the pooka away it hops down to the ground, suddenly taking the form of an all-black goat. Save, of course, for those golden eyes and that cheeky grin. "Anything? Let's hear your best song. THE best."

The pooka is, of course, not a goat.

This little trickster is many things among which goat is one.

It's getting to be quite the goat party tonight isn't it?

[Arkham Street - Black Goat Park]

Jaahlyn doesn't attempt to shoo away the pooka, they had as much right to be there as the air, right?
Though perhaps she should at least feign some annoyance as she heard pooka's liked that. Anything with a grin like that probably wanted a reason to use it.

"My BEST song? Well, I told you I wanted to make this the BEST party so let's do it."

The satyr raises her hands as if she holding something, a motion which causes a violin and bow to appear and so she starts playing. As soon as the music reaches the ears of the crowd her clothes blur. Becoming more subjective as that's exactly the kind of music she's playing now.

Since everyone will hear what they imagine to be the BEST song they've ever heard. Likely a mix, if not outright cover, of songs they've heard before. Whatever they hear is always mainly being played by a violin but there will be sounds of other instruments depending on their taste.

Her clothes will adjust in a similar fashion, looking different to each person as they shift to fit the music they're hearing now. Jaahlyn will also start to sing as she doesn't seem to have any problem doing that at the same time as her hand moves the bow feverishly over the violins strings.

Like the melody her song is also subjective and will sound different to each listener. The only thing that will look the same to them is Jaahlyn herself as she dances around within the crowd, seemingly moving to the beat of dozens of different songs at the same time.
It's totally cheating but with the pooka's request one simply had to cheat to make it.

Midnight Park

Jaahlyn's gaze is drawn to a place which it shouldn't be occupying. Yet it seems that just one drink and the general atmosphere of this place is enough for her to not realize that as Artie pulls out the pen and paper.

"Hmm? You seem perfectly shaped to me." She gestures at Artie's chest. "All you need is some more pockets." Her pointed finger moves down to the orobou's waist. "Maybe a belt with 'em. Like me." With that said she opens one of said pockets and produces her own cellphone which she after a moment of messing with places on the counter. Her own number is clearly displayed on its screen. "See?" The satyr gestures at the pocket. "Though keep in mind that your way have advantages too. It can be pretty convincing."

[Deathkeeper]

Midnight Park

Artie sighs.
"Yes well, when you're mostly horizontal you don't need to strap things on so tight to keep them from falling off. If I didn't kind-of have hips I wouldn't even be able to wear belts easily. And I do hate tight clothes." Artie's serpent body is slightly wider than where her waist would be, so it does resemble having hips.
"But dear, isn't this exactly what you said you didn't like doing? If you want to you can tell me nice things about me all night but you do have a date already." the orobou casually taps the number into her phone while she talks.

Black Goat Woods

Rowan's butt is NOT...whatever that word means. His hand idly drifts to his waist, though he restrains himself. He's trying very hard not to look down too much. That's what he did when he was stuck as a frog. Just try not to think about it.
"That's all very kind of you to say. I'm not planning on making a big deal out of this, though. I'm just stopping in for a little bit." He's not planning on being a guest of honor or something. Especially not with everyone thinking he's a girl.

[Rebonack]

[Mysterious Crimson DracoProtector Obsidian]

"Pretty? This place is like a headache with legs," Catherine retorts, smashing several familiars with her now MASSIVELY over-sized kitty mallet while the more cat-shaped mittens begins lashing through them with teeth and claws. "Try not to waste too much magic on the familiars. The Witch will be a lot stronger."

Excellent advice, Catherine thinks.

She has no idea that Obsidian can just siphon power from the familiars.

Even if that power is just getting fed into her new minion.

Servants are crushed and rent,
torn and smashed, the servants are destroyed.

Swelling and cracking the world around them bends,
snapping wood rearranges into crooked tangles.

There is no rest here,
no rest can be found.

Frames shift below the feet until the way forward is no more,
all paths are barred by rising palisades.

Wickedness protects itself deep within,
jealousy guards its heart in the deep places of soot.

[Ironsmith]

Fairy Godfather's Hotel

Having a meal or two delivered would not actually count.

Yuvan will find his provided accommodation a little cramped. The ceiling's a little low, he'd have to duck through the doors, the shower cubicle is short and the nozzle is low. The bed is massive, and the television (if Yuvan knows how to work it) too, with a good quality screen. There's an on-site restaurant, though the meals there aren't provided by the Godfather so he'd have to buy them himself, and everything depends on if Yuvan will go anywhere the night after he's shown his room.

[Fairy Godfather's Hotel]

Yuvan spends this time mostly in his room, having unpacked a portable alchemy lab and experimenting with all sorts of reagents to brew a concoction that might help his... other problem. He's smart enough to not include pixie dust on that list, but any visitors are still likely to be hit with a wall of exotic and usually unpleasant smells. And after the first night, these experiments are going to be constant; no stopping for anything, not even food or bed.

[Arkham Street - Black Goat Park]

Hard to read.

That's a pretty reasonable description of a kumiho.

Assuming they aren't making a bunch of really obvious foxy gestures.

Just sitting there regally and staring?

Definitely hard to read.

"Oh? How tantalizing of a diversion you offer, to be a player in my game. Very well-"

The world peels away.

"Tell me a secret," comes the fox' whispered words.

Braeg will find that he stands as himself in the moment of his greatest, most painful regret. Every sound, every sight, every smell, every touch, every emotion, every feeling, every thought, every spark of soul and magic in that year, that month, that day, that hour, that minute, that second.

That moment.

Echoed.

What manner of man stands before the kumiho in that season of vulnerability? A hound? Or a hare?

[Arkham Street - Black Goat Woods]

Not that one such moment would come immediately to mind, and therefore into being. As long-lived as the Lord of Lesser Wood is, he's experienced many regrets, and several candidates for the worst, most painful memory of his briefly flash into being before quickly being overriden by another.

He sees her there, dancing in the moonlight, and he must have her.

His ambitions realized, and Lord too lowly a name for him.

Pervert.

If he'd aimed a little lower, his favorite son might still be alive today.

That was the worst time to call his enemy's bluff.

If only he'd known then how to swim.

That one seems to stick.

"Move it, toad!" Dhogeal hisses, waving Braeg further down the ramshackle pier. "Do you want to get caught?"

"N-n-no, of course not..." Braeg replies, unable to keep the stammer out of his voice. Going night fishing might not have been his idea, but if the two of them were caught, they would both be punished the same way.

"Yeah, I didn't think so." His brother mutters, clutching a bucket of bait under his arm as he follows after Braeg.

With the house as close to the coast as it is, they'll still be in sight, even at the end of the pier, so once there, over the edge they go. His brother goes first, of course; he gets the best spot, leaving Braeg to settle into a little niche that's only mostly free of splinters.

"I d-d-don't like this..." Braeg stammers, settling against a rickety cross-brace. "M-m-mum always said-"

"Mum's not here." Dhogeal points out, whishing his line out into the bay. "And she's not going to find out, either. At least not from me." The boy gives him a pointed glare. "You planning on tattling on us, toad?"

"N-n-no!"

"Good." Dhogeal nods. "Now that we've established that..."

Braeg looks away as his brother reaches into the bait bucket, plunging his hand in way further tham is necessary to grab a worm or a morsel of rotten meat. Gross. Last time he did this, it was because he'd smuggled out a bottle of wine.

This time, he pulls out a necklace.

Braeg frowns. "W... what's that?"

"What's it look like, dumb-butt?" The older boy grins. "Mhairi wanted me to give it to you."

Braeg blushes profusely. "W-what?"

"Mhairi? You do know her name, right? That cute girl in the market? The one with the braids?" Dhogeal shrugs. "I know you know who I'm talking about. You didn't take your eyes off her the entire time we were there."

"I-I-I-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what's going on there." Dhogeal tucks the jewelry into Braeg's shirt pocket. "At least I do now. So, I'm letting you know now... no more fooling around in front of her. If I'd known she liked you, I wouldn't have embarrassed you like that."

"You... what?" Braeg frowns. "...Why, though?"

"Eh, call it pity." Dhogeal shrugs. "I'm not gonna stand between my little brother and a girl who actually likes him for a change. Seems pointless. I'd rather let you screw that up on your own."

"...Oh." Braeg lowers his gaze to his feet and kicks idly at the water. "That makes sense, I guess."

"...That, and her sister is at least twice as pretty. It'd muck up my chances with her if we didn't look like we were getting along."

And there it is. Of course Dhogeal's got an ulterior motive. He always does, the pig. Lovers forbid he should actually give a damn.

"...Well, m-maybe I'll tell her sister what a j-j-jerk you are." Braeg finally manages.

"Yeah, good luck with that. You even know what she looks like?"

Oh. He hadn't thought of that.

"Besides, Mhairi will vouch for me. I got you her necklace, didn't I?"

"M-maybe I just won't wear it, then. She'll think I never got it."

"Yeah, you're definitely going to do that." Dhogeal smirks. "People in town like me. If I lose my shot at this girl, eh, twelve more where she came from. But you, little toad? Mhairi's the only one that gave you the time of day. You're gonna mess up your shot with her just to mildly annoy me?"

"..."

"That's what I thought." He chuckles. "Don't be stupid, toad. It never pays off."

...That's it.

Braeg lets out a little growl and gives Dhogeal a swift kick in the back, sending him careening off the pier and into the water.

"You big buttface!" Braeg calls down. "How's that for stupid!"

Showed him. Even when he comes back up, he won't be able to take away the fact that Braeg managed to pull one over on him. He's got to take his victories where he can get them. Dhogeal's probably going to make him pay for it later. Maybe he'll sneak some ants into Braeg's bed again. Or steal his clothes the next time he takes a bath. Or trip him into a pile of road apples on the way to town. Assuming Dhogeal would stick to something that mundane.

...Wait.

Why is it taking Dhogeal so long to get back to shore?

That's when Braeg finally sees Dhogeal out in the water, gently rolling back-and-forth in time with the waves.

Face-down.

Oh, no.

Braeh grabs his rod and throws the hook out after Dhogeal, hoping to snag his brother's shirt and pull him back in.

Too far to the right. No good.

Braeg hurriedly pulls in the line and tries again, fighting back panic as he casts the line.

The hook comes up short.

Dhogeal's drifted out too far. The rod won't catch him.

Braeg drops the rod and holds his hands to his temples. Oh, this is bad. What's he supposed to do now? He can't swim out to rescue Dhogeal himself. And he can't run for help; even with as close as his mother is, she'll probably arrive too late.

Oh, crap.

What's his mother going to say when she finds out?

"That's quite enough." Braeg interrupts, waving away the flashback.

[Rebonack]

[Arkham Street - Black Goat Park]

"I'm glad you weren't there," Tristan admits to Jade. "You would have been caught up in all the Buttercup nonsense."

And Tristan is VERY GLAD Jade didn't get caught up in the Buttercup nonsense. The fox-things have been trying enough.

Speaking of foxy things, Tristan gives a little yelp when he gets whacked, whirling around to glare at the offending faun. The faun just giggles and waves, backing off a step or two. But then she blink, peering a bit closer at Tristan. Is that...?

ANYWAY!

Over to the kegs set up near the great big winepress that serves as the focal point of the party!

"Definitely no business sense on these guys," Tristan admits as he decants a cup of wine for Jade, then for himself. After all the faerie stuff he's been through Tristan has found that it seems like a little Dreamlands nonsense has stuck to him. Not enough to do much of anything but it thankfully tagged him as just not mortal enough to count. Which is great because otherwise Jade would have been really tempted to eat his heart while she was still a kumiho. And that would have been tragic.

That whole experience was traumatizing enough for her to begin with.

"I don't think the idea of money really even-"
"Nah, bro, we just trade favors if you catch my drift," a rather puma-y older satyr says, gentle tousling Tristan's piebald hair.

Okay why are these faeries being so touchy with Jade's man?

Meanwhile!

It is true, Jaahlyn. Pookas love being pests. They can feel it deep in their bones.

But they're also as perceptive as they are clever, which means this one can tell Jaahlyn is just feigning irritating. The horrid black creature sticks his tongue out at her. "I'll get your goat yet."

Ugh.

That was a horrible pun.

But!

Oh, that music!

The drummers around the fire stop, for a time, to listen. Hooves and feat beat to the song, but it is a hundred different songs! What a lovely discord it makes, a cacophony of mirth and laughter and clapping! The fae seem to be really enjoying this chaotic melody and are getting really into it, each their own.

Seems like Jaahlyn is a hit!

Meanwhile!

"Oh my gawd, that music! It's so great c'mon let's go dance!" the raccoon faun swoons as she moves to grab Rowan's hand and drag him off to the press of bodies dancing around the fire to the hundred different beats of Jaahlyn's music.

Rowan's attempts to escape in a timely fashion continue to fail spectacularly.

Are these sprites aware of what he's trying to do? Are they actively thwarting him? Or is this just serendipity being mean to him?

Meanwhile!

Waving away the flashback?

Ah ha ha...

Oh, how amusing.

"Braeg?"

That voice.

"Braeg, it's dark out here I can scarcely see a thing."

Was this how it went? She wasn't here, was she? Or... what... no, that doesn't make any sense. You don't remember things that are happening. You don't remember the present.

"Did he give it to you?" Mhairi asks, her voice hopeful. It's clear she's looking for someone. It's just as clear that she didn't see. That she didn't hear the splash.

Quick.

Lie to her.

Or she'll know.

[bc56]

Arkham Street - Black Goat Park
Jade wouldn't call Tristan "her man." "Her boyfriend," yes, but he's his own person and doesn't belong to her. Even so it's aggravating that these other fae are making moves on him. She takes a sip of her wine. "I don't think you'll be getting any favors from either of us," She tells the satyr warningly. "Weird, it's like they're singling you out," she comments to Tristan. She was made (cursed, whatever) to be very attractive herself, with an idealized, superheroic figure, but she hasn't attracted any attention yet, whereas Tristan is getting all of it.

[Shadowcaller]

Midnight Park

Jaahlyn giggles at that comment. "Just complimenting you, that's all. Since we did that earlier, didn't we? Some low-key flirting, eh?" She winks. "It doesn't mean anything and I figured that since that most people around here are pony or at least pony-adjacent I might be the only one at the bar that appreciates your radiant beauty." The satyr grins widely, looking completely shameless.
But she quickly reels it in. "But if you want me to stop, I'll stop. Since I can control it and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." She nods, looking completely serious for a moment.

[Arkham Street - Black Goat Park]

Jaahlyn sticks her tongue back at the pooka before she starts singing. Getting PRANKED was far as she could tell a fey tradition at parties. Pixies for instance liked to kill one another which wasn't really as hilarious to her as the rest of the fey. But as long as it wasn't anything serious like that she wouldn't wouldn't mind getting PRANKED that much. It was just like any kind of party trick that set the mood.

But speaking of setting the mood, that was her purpose right now and she had an good idea of what fey liked.

Thus, her melodies grows increasingly chaotic and frantic. The tempo of all the songs she's playing only increasing.
This was a turning point where the music turned dangerous to mortals. Most forms of mortals felt a natural beat in music. It was difficult to at least not nod to the tempo it gave off. This enchanted kind of music made that impulse far stronger and made impulse-control harder so once they started moving to the music or felt a sudden need to do something it would be difficult to stop doing it until the music was turned off. To fey that wasn't a problem as their more conceptual nature made them more in tune to the music. It was like it was carrying their bodies rather than the other way around so they could just party on as usual.

This was also one of the reasons she didn't resort to this kind of cheating outside of parties like this as even she would have some difficulty stopping playing the music now that she got going. One could say it gained a life of its own which is why she called it the music of the night. Partly since it was party music but also since there was a darkness to it with how it bent mind's to its will.

[Ironsmith]

[Arkham Street - Black Goat Woods]

Braeg lowers his hand, slightly surprised at how this was going. The kumiho wasn't just putting things behind his eyes... he's looking at a recreation of what happened, not merely a recollection.

One she's clearly tampered with, given Mhairi's presence. She... definitely hadn't been here. If she had, they wouldn't have met twenty years later and...

...

Damn. He was half hoping for a scene transition in there. She'd been one of the best nights he'd ever had.

But regardless.

Clearly, there was a point to this tampering. But what? To torment him? There's a threat neutered just by his realization that she was messing with him. What's in front of him isn't nearly as shocking and upsetting if he knows it's not really happening. Then, also, she called this a game. Games have goals, winners, losers. So how would he win? By realizing the deception? Unlikely, he thinks... it's simply too easy.

A possibility occurs to him then; the kumiho asked him to tell her a secret. Presumably, that secret would be something she couldn't pluck out so readily; if it were, she would have no game. She wants him to reveal something about himself, something more impactful than the summary of the events of his life.

Maybe, then, his goal was simply to keep on guard. To not let the true essence of his character slip. To continue until the kumiho concedes that she can not, in fact, convince him to tell the truth.

This is all, of course, pure speculation. The most he can do now is play along and try to glean what she's after.

"M-Mhairi?" Braeg stammers. "W-... what are you doing here?" He shuffles a little bit, to obscure Dhogeal's body from her. "Q-quick, get into those bushes over there. My mum hates when people come over unannounced. If she s-sees you..." He shudders, rubbing at his arms nervously. "W-we'd both be in so much t-trouble..."

[Earl of Purple]

Spirit Bomb

Benedict cuts a hole in the ghosts with the semi-circular blade of his tumi, and then more are whisked away by Selekhael's arrival. And with the gap created, he'll go. Running as fast as he can, back towards the edge of the effect and safety- and more importantly, his pregnant wife and manservant. They should be safe, but there's always a risk otherwise and he didn't stay at the edge for long enough to see if it was spreading. He really hopes it isn't spreading; this was not something he can deal with unprepared.

Fairy Godfather's Hotel

He will be interrupted that first night, as it happens. By a knock on his door. Outside, looking rather nervous, is Boada. She's wearing a white t-shirt as a dress and paired it with a simple cloth belt, so it looks more like a dress and less like an oversized t-shirt. She's barefoot, and brushes hair behind her excessively long ear. "Um... hi. Was wonderin' if you was lonely. And if ye wanted this back, or not." She holds up the wooden sword he gave her, which... might not be the best tool to have given somebody he knows to be a thief, pickpocket and burglar.

[Deathkeeper]

Midnight Park

Jaahlyn giggles at that comment. "Just complimenting you, that's all. Since we did that earlier, didn't we? Some low-key flirting, eh?" She winks. "It doesn't mean anything and I figured that since that most people around here are pony or at least pony-adjacent I might be the only one at the bar that appreciates your radiant beauty." The satyr grins widely, looking completely shameless.
But she quickly reels it in. "But if you want me to stop, I'll stop. Since I can control it and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." She nods, looking completely serious for a moment.

[Arkham Street - Black Goat Park]

Jaahlyn sticks her tongue back at the pooka before she starts singing. Getting PRANKED was far as she could tell a fey tradition at parties. Pixies for instance liked to kill one another which wasn't really as hilarious to her as the rest of the fey. But as long as it wasn't anything serious like that she wouldn't wouldn't mind getting PRANKED that much. It was just like any kind of party trick that set the mood.

But speaking of setting the mood, that was her purpose right now and she had an good idea of what fey liked.

Thus, her melodies grows increasingly chaotic and frantic. The tempo of all the songs she's playing only increasing.
This was a turning point where the music turned dangerous to mortals. Most forms of mortals felt a natural beat in music. It was difficult to at least not nod to the tempo it gave off. This enchanted kind of music made that impulse far stronger and made impulse-control harder so once they started moving to the music or felt a sudden need to do something it would be difficult to stop doing it until the music was turned off. To fey that wasn't a problem as their more conceptual nature made them more in tune to the music. It was like it was carrying their bodies rather than the other way around so they could just party on as usual.

This was also one of the reasons she didn't resort to this kind of cheating outside of parties like this as even she would have some difficulty stopping playing the music now that she got going. One could say it gained a life of its own which is why she called it the music of the night. Partly since it was party music but also since there was a darkness to it with how it bent mind's to its will.

Midnight Park

Artie waves her off.
"Oh, I could hear people tell me I'm pretty all day. I just don't want you to feel weird about it once we get home."
She steeples her fingers and rests her chin on them.
"So if that's what you want to do feel free, though you're welcome to talk to the locals like the gentlepony said."

Black Goat Woods

Rowan's hand is grabbed! He opens his mouth to argue, but when he's dragged closer to the music, its enchantment takes hold of him.
Poor Rowan is compelled to start dancing. Which really is a blessing and a curse as he's dancing better than he could without compulsion. Buuuut he's now stuck, bouncing around without control of his body.
This is rather distressing, but he can't get himself to do anything else at the moment.

[Ironsmith]

[Fairy Godfather's Hotel]

When Yuvan answers the door, he's going to look very different from the last time Boada saw him. Most of his armor has been removed and is tucked away, somewhere in his pockets-that-aren't-pockets, where only himself and a sufficiently deft-handed thief could get to them. With most of the menacing spikes gone, the elf that stands in front of her now looks less like an aspiring warlord who happens to be working against the end of the world, and more like an extraordinarily tired, aging elf in a simple tunic and a pair of heavy boots.

"...I would not have said as much." Yuvan begins, in response to Boada's proposition. "But I will not object to having company. Please, come in."

Even in this relatively short time, the alchemist has clearly been busy. A number of mixtures are arranged along the shelf, in multicolored bottles, giving off a series of pungent but otherwise indescribable aromas. Between answering the door and reclaiming his seat on the bed, Yuvan adds another bottle to the collection, quietly scratching down some notes in an open book nearby.

"...You can keep the toy." He adds, without looking up. "I can always make another one. All I ask is that you promise to use it to get yourself out of trouble, instead of into it. I trust you can do that?"

[5a Violista]

[Spirit Bomb]

If the vacuum is for sucking up little paragraph-ghosts, then it makes Seraphina start to wonder what's the little broom for.

Seraphina does drop the notebook when she notices the paragraph-monsters hiding under the words because her nerves are already shot, but doesn't freak out as much as Watcher Sanchez probably hoped. After all, yeah sure, monsters who hide under words are pretty dangerous but they're more on the level of giant crabs or cyborg dinosaurs or supervillain shootouts or a town filled with statues or skeletons who forgot what it was like to be alive. Compared to being surrounded by people who were alive maybe an hour ago, it's nothing. Actually, cyborg dinosaurs and supervillain shootouts were probably comparable to the ghosts because people were actively dying in those situations, and the only difference was that in those situations she could save people's lives, while the field of ghosts was just a constant hopeless reminder that the number of survivors could be counted on one hand, and it was too late to do anything else.
Being surrounded by fresh ghosts merits freaking out. Seeing word-monsters hiding behind what you just wrote is only a jumpscare, at most.

"I was already fine," she says to Watcher Ballentine, bluffing. Largely because being 'not fine' had nothing to do with the imps, in Seraphina's mind, and she wants to make sure they know that.
Also because her nerves are shot, and they didn't warn her there'd be paragraph monsters hiding behind the words.

"Um. Yeah. Okay," she then says, when asked about Selekhael. "She was a teenager, and, um, blue dress, and had a sword and a gun." Those were swords and guns, right? "Some kind of adventurer, I guess. Seemed like she knew what she was getting into, but then again so did that plague doctor guy, so..."
Seraphina bites her lower lip.
"Yeah, keep an eye out for them. Both of them were headed towards the epicenter. Told them they shouldn't go there, and I hope they know what they're doing, but I hope they manage to get away fine." Hopefully that sufficiently answers their question about Selekhael, and that's enough information for them to send out a search party/whatever for the two people who went farther in.



[Mysterious Crimson DracoProtector Obsidian]

Another reason to not play with the familiars too much is that, even though she predates them, they're still getting cuts and scratches into her with their razor legs.

While chewing on a leg and slashing apart another familiar, Obsidian nods. "Okay, I'll try to not use too much," she promises. Save magic for the big game, makes sense.

Obsidian knows she can eat familiars, and siphoning power from them is relatively new but she picked up on it pretty quickly. Losing the power to the minion isn't something Obsidian has figured out yet, though. Nor has she figured out that the more she eats, the less minion-like the Dark Maid is and the more independent it becomes.

Luckily! The feast before her is pretty nice. They should just send more and more after her. And it's even better because she doesn't even have to consider whether it's okay to tear apart and terrorize and eat them or not, because Catherine told her that it's fine!

Actually, though, there's so many that Obsidian's starting to get a little bored of the familiars. She really wants to see what this witch spirit is like and see how it tastes (and! She imagines it's significantly better, judging by how pretty this area is. The boss of this area has got to be one of the most delicious things she's ever had...but in her experience the better they taste, the harder they fight back. So she's going to have to be careful).

She takes a moment's break to look at Catherine and ask her, "Hey, which way is the witch? Looks like all the paths have blocked up!"
Obsidian then commands, "Dark Maid! Pull apart that barrier!" Because with so many blocked paths, they need to open them back up now that the frame have blocked them up, and better the Dark Maid do it than Obsidian. If Obsidian knew which direction the witch was, she'd tell the shadowy servant to start with that direction.

The shadowy undead(?) obeys and goes off to pull at one of the barricaded pathways.

[Vahnavoi]

[Arkham Street - Red Hook Pier]

The swordsman takes a mighty leap over the explosion he himself caused. Maybe he put a bit too much "oomph!" into that fireball, he didn't expect it to incinerate the whole platform. He leaves his next leap deliberately short and collides against the side of the following platform, hanging from a ledge with one hand so the block can shield him from rapid fire TV static. When the firing ceases, he throws his sword hand over the edge and drags himself on the platform, rolls on his feet and gets back to jumping.

This is starting to get hard. He doesn't have much besides his speed and agility to protect himself up here, and his options for where to dodge are growing thin. Knowing when and where attacks are coming from won't help if he can't get out of the way. He really needs to at least knock the girl running ahead of him down a peg, but even that is proving harder than he thought. How did she dodge that explosion?

"I don't care if she's copper or fluffin' platinum!", he shouts to "futti", who hopefully isn't too far behind. Apparently, putti way of cursing is contagious. "How do I hit her?"

[Rebonack]

[Arkham Street - Red Hook Pier]

"She just drifted but it's got a cooldown!" Futti yells back as it reloads its scattergun and continues the ascent. Sadly a cooldown it can't immediately capitalize on since it is busy loading its weapon again. What a shame. The little collection of violent neredowells is nearing the current top of the tallest tower where a relatively wide swath of platforms has been hastily assembled and partitioned with low walls and ramps. There's a pretty intense fire-fight going on and they're running right into the middle of it.

At the very least this means the swordsman has room to maneuver.

And there's going to be a whole bunch of maneuvering here pretty quick!

Atop the platform there are already three putti shooting at each other from around cover, taking potshots any time one of the others peeks out. Two are armed with carbines and the third with a scattergun. No lances among them, which in turn means no terrain penetrating ability. Depending on what Batsael decides to do this may go really poorly for one of the putti up here in the near future. Like, say, that one turning its carbine toward her as she hops up the last of the steps.

It looks like there was a ramp leading up here before in the middle of the wider platform but one of the other putti must have sealed it off with the wide, squat lump of iridescent bubbles currently blocking it. The putti on the next level down are trying to simultaneously build their way up ward around the impediment while also avoiding getting blasted by their fellows.

Ascent Status: 173Meters /500


[Spirit Bomb]

Well what do you know, it just so happens that the direction Benedict is running off in happens to be toward the crucible!

That's handy.

There also happens to be plenty of raw devastation here at the center of the blast. Those ashes and blobs of green glass littered everywhere definitely count as what Selekhael needs for her final component to make... whatever it is that she's after. Assuming she grabs some and legs it both she and Benedict will feel a wave of frustration and raw, unfiltered hate flowing from the demon as they move out of its reach. It needs a body and its chance at getting one is running away.

Hatred permeating the air triggers another change in the ghosts. They wail and thrash and glitch and splinter and splat as they latch onto ashes and glass and rubble, the matter warping at their touch into a crude imitation of flesh. Flesh and teeth and nails and eyes and hair. Touched by the demon's lethal contradictions the ghosts are decaying into imps, glitchy flesh blobs that skitter and flop and flap on misshapen limbs. A roving swarm of a half dozen ambulatory teratomas ranging in size from basket balls to bathtubs pursue our heroes. The fastest of them, a ball-sized ball of ashes-trying-to-be-meat with nauseatingly hand-like wings swoops down and tries to take a bite out of Benedict.

With only ashes to constitute physical forms these imps are pretty fragile, but allowing the roving spiritual contagion into living flesh is definitely inadvisable.

Meanwhile!

Obviously the little broom is for sweeping up any ghosts that fall on the floor.

Thankfully Watcher Ballentine vacuumed them all up so that isn't a problem.

"Indeed. I, ah, apologize for the scare. The notepad works better when the user is unaware of its function," Water Ballentine says to Seraphina. At least she's saying sorry, right? That counts for something. "A sword and a gun, I see. Did she ask you any unusual questions? And could you tell me more about this 'plague doctor' individual? It is important that we are aware of everything who is, ah, at risk for contamination. Allowing any imps outside of the blast zone would be a danger to the community at large."

She doesn't go into great detail about WHY imps being outside the blast zone is a danger to the community at large.

It probably has to do with them being weird and gross. Likely something beyond hiding behind paragraphs and jump-scaring people, even though jump-scares can be pretty jarring.

[bc56]

Arkham Street - Red Hook Pier
Batsael smirks and turns towards the putti aiming at her. With a gesture, she invokes Shape, peeling the ground her would-be attacker is standing on away from beneath them like the skin of a rotten orange. Then she sticks her tongue out at "futti" and the swordsman and creates a new wall of glowing metallic marrow between herself and them.
Behind the wall, she switches to her lance and begins to take aim.

Spirit Bomb
Selekhael grabs a handful of rubble and glass on her way out. She knows she needs it. As the ashen imp comes close, she attempts to lash it with her hook the way she did those ghosts, but it's a much more nimble target and she's going to have a harder time.
Hopefully the crucible isn't much farther from here.

[Rebonack]

[Arkham Street - Black Goat Park]

Oh boy things are getting pretty lively!

The stomping, the dancing, the thrum of the music and the beat of the hooves.

Does Jaahlyn notice that poor Rowan, a mortal disguised as a faerie, has been caught up in all this?

If she doesn't then this might get a little rough on him.

Meanwhile!

The satyr gives Jade and Tristan a little pout before moving off to join the dance. No fun at all!

Tristan can definitely feel the wild pull of the music, but between having three minds and some experience resisting such enticing power he's doing little more than tapping his foot rather than joining in. Maybe once there are a few more mugs of wine in him. But not yet.

"It is kind of odd. I wonder if they can tell-" he begins, only to have an oread tug at his free hand toward the dancing.

"Come on, Plum! Come join the dance!"

Ah, that's it.

Even that little remaining touch of faerie on Tristan is identifiable.

The gaiads of Plum Mountain Park.

Meanwhile!

Within the kumiho's illusion the sound of music is distant and muddled, as if heard from underwater.

She lashes her tails this way and that, amused. Braeg managed to shrug off the dreamtime logic and retain his wits. That will make this both more and less fun. It's a different sort of challenge when a victim isn't caught up in the dream. The kumiho suspects he might have caught onto what her game is, to peel away the pretext and see what sort of person he truly is. A secret told. Maybe it's time to up the anti just a little, then?

Mhairi eyes the bushes uncertainly.

They look dirty. And damp. And maybe a bit prickly.

None the less, she begins moving in that direction. If she notices Braeg's suspicious shuffling she doesn't show it.

"Where's Dhogeal?" she asks, hushing her tone to make it harder to be overhead from the house nearby. "He was supposed to give the necklace to you before I came."

This was all meant to be a surprise.

[Mysterious Crimson DracoProtector Obsidian]

If Obsidian is having trouble with cuts and so forth clearly she just need to have tougher skin covered in beautiful black scales that the familiars can't scratch up.

Easy solutions!

Especially for someone who is as cool and a dragon as she is.

Catherine, meanwhile, is busy smashing through the next wave of familiars! These ones are a little bigger and meaner! Instead of frames they're like photographs of cars cut out of a magazine. Except instead of wheels they have sooty legs. And since they're as big as regular cars that have their left sides all crumbled in they're going to be much harder to fit in Obsidian's mouth. Thankfully there are only three of them. She dances around one of them as it zooms past her, mashing its RIGHT side with her mallet as she recalls Mittens and instead relases BIGGER MITTENS! This kitty is BIGGER than the cars and starts batting around the one Catherine is fighting.

The shattered wood is torn away form the path, leaving open the way forward to the Witch. Which means-

Deeper and deeper still is the only way,
to descend is the only path.

Greater servants crush and crumple,
trampling and mangling they move in a blur.

Regrets made manifest all around,
the sight of the calamity never forgotten.

The street were it happened with cruel concrete,
the road is stained red in memory.

Her tormentors she releases to doom her foes,
reminded of pain she sends forth the cars.

[Vahnavoi]

[Arkham Street - Red Hook Pier]

"Drifting" says little to the swordsman. "Cooldown" says a little more. "So I only need to hit her twice really quick?" , he shouts. That's simple. Maybe not easy, but definitely.

Then that girl sets up what appears to be a metal wall between herself and him. Oh that's just rich - and they called him and futti cheaters!

But he's not about to let something as simple as a metal wall stop him. His fireball destroyed an entire platform, and he's always been a better swordsman that a sorcerer. He'll just has to cut hard enough to split a metal wall, easy peasy. Day like any other.

Hey, if the puttis can carve perfect cubes from the ground, maybe rules of this game are even in his favor!

So, just before he collides with the metal wall, he grabs his sword with both hands and slices diagonally across. If it is anything like normal metal, it won't simply be bisected, it will also fall forward as the swordsman bulk slams against it. Hopefully the girl has taken her aim by then, or she risks getting hit by a piece of her own construct.

[Ironsmith]

[Arkham Street - Black Goat Woods]

Braeg sits calmly on the rock and watches the scene unfold around him, carefully looking to see what changes the kumiho is making. There were questions she was asking with every move, and if he wasn't careful, he'd give her truthful, honest answers. More to the point, those questions were going to lead him to learn more about her... what sort of person she thinks he is, what she values, that sort of thing. If that was the game they were playing, maybe a victory for him meant wresting a secret from her.

Braeg ducks into the bushes after Mhairi, shuffling up close to the side of the house. For the moment, they were both concealed, both from the house and from rhe sight of Dhogael's body drifting in the bay.

What should he tell her? That even as a young boy, frightened out of his mind, he was a virtuous person? Definitely not- she'd never believe it. She's expecting a liar, someone selfish and petty, if only out of overwhelming fear of dire consequences. He was, after all, little better than a child at the time.

She brought in someone he cared about, who had an appreciation for him and his brother, both. Perhaps the kumiho wants to know if he could be persuaded to do the right thing?

"He, uh..." Braeg stumbles, reaching into his shirt pocket. "...He did give me a necklace, y-yeah..." The future fiendling pulls it out of his pocket and shows it to Mhairi, quietly confirming if it's the same one. "He... he, um, didn't say where he got it... I thought he stole it from someone, he's always..." Braeg's voice catches in his throat as he holds the necklace out to her. "It's yours, isn't it? Take it back, please... please, I don't want it..."

[Rebonack]

[Arkham Street - Red Hook Pier]

The yanked putti gives a yelp, toppling over backwards and causing the bolts of molten iron fired from its weapon to go sailing harmlessly into the air.

Or.

Well, not harmlessly.

They'll come down eventually and splat on something, which won't be great if it lands on anything squishy.

You know what else comes down in a ballistic arc? The grenade tossed by another putti straight into the fallen celestial's face.

"Floof."

It explodes, of course. In a blast that scrambles the purposefulness of everything in the area of effect. This, of course, leaves the afflicted putti as an undifferentiated heap of ashes.

"She's gunna shoot at us!" Futti says before winking out of existence itself.

And then some swording happens along with tackling. The putti that just lobbed the grenade takes cover while the other fires a blast of neurotoxic spikes at both Batsael and the swordsman. It doesn't seem very concerned over whether or not it hits anything.

And shortly after that the 'friendly putti' appears on the far side of the platform behind a low wall and makes another material-casting motion. As before there are a multitude of tiny platforms, but they reach upward in a tight spiral in such a way that firing at them from below is likely to ablate part of the tower rather than hitting the putti ascending it.

Oh.

That's what's going on, isn't it?

This putti has invested in building talents rather than combat talents. It can fashion materials that aren't all physically connected to each other all at once so long as it is only consuming a single cube of materials to do so. And it looks like it just quaffed a consumable, too.

+Speed.

Oh wow, look at it go! Looks like the 'friendly putti' was planning on winning this one to begin with and thought the Swordsman would be a useful distraction.

Ascent Status: 273Meters /500

Meanwhile! Another nearby tower crumbles into a heap of earth as the satyr mob (and one faun) busy themselves with rioting through the arena. Several putti seem to be trying to blast them but the drunken faeries are nearly impossible to hit with the way they stagger around unpredictably.

[bc56]

Arkham Street - Black Goat Park
As the music picks up, Jade's tails begin to wave. The toe of her boot taps out a beat on the forest floor. Then yet another fae makes a move on Tristan. "No, you don't. That's my date." In sync with the sound, moving on the rising wave of the music, she twirls. Her hand moves to grasp Tristan's, to pull him away from the oread, and into the dance anyway.

Arkham Street - Red Hook Pier
It's not cheating, the putti do the same thing, just with slightly different materials!
The barrier is sliced. It bleeds golden light, but more importantly, Batsael is jumping out of the way, getting away from both the needle barrage and the swordsman. "You fluffing fluffer! Get back down here!" She rolls behind one of the other barricades and points her lance again, aiming up at the spiral of platforms and trying to judge her timing. The platforms won't ablate this attack.

[Earl of Purple]

Spirit Bomb

Benedict also slashes his tumi at the imp, hopefully either driving it off or better yet killing it. But mostly he's trying not to slow down so he can get out of there as quick as he can.

If it does grab hold, he's covered most of his body with clothes and isn't scared to shed his suit jacket to get it off him- although it's tricky, given he's got a sword and a knife in his hands.

Fairy Godfather's Hotel

Boada may well be sufficiently skilled as to access Yuvan's inventory, although she doesn't test it right now. She smiles at being allowed to keep the wooden sword. "So... what're you up to in here? Making odd smells?" More than that, obviously, but Boada's not sure what. She's not very well-versed in alchemy.

[Ironsmith]

Fairy Godfather's Hotel

Boada may well be sufficiently skilled as to access Yuvan's inventory, although she doesn't test it right now. She smiles at being allowed to keep the wooden sword. "So... what're you up to in here? Making odd smells?" More than that, obviously, but Boada's not sure what. She's not very well-versed in alchemy.

[Fairy Godfather's Hotel]

"Consequently, yes." Yuvan manages a little smirk. "Even if I do not succeed in what I am attempting, I may have discovered a new corner of the perfume market."

It's amazing what sorts of discoveries are made entirely by accident.

"But, more importantly, recent events have led to a certain... inspiration." Yuvan swirls around one of the bottles near his nightstand. "I am trying to create a formula for an elixir which can induce selective amnesia. I'm sure you can appreciate the range of applications... it would provide a handy option in the event you are caught in the middle of something incriminating, for example. Or if you had need to put certain information out of your head prior to an interrogation. Or maybe you just have a bad day and wish to forget it, without going to the trouble of becoming intoxicated." The altmer gives her a rueful smile. "...It's been slow going, of course. Rather predictably, most attempts at researching a potion which blots out memories are, themselves, forgotten."

[Rebonack]

[Spirit Bomb]

The imp, as it turns out, is even less agile than the ghosts were.

This paradoxical abomination needs a coherent body to function as anything other than an irritant with a possibility of causing zombies in the event of the death of the person infested.

It is quite a bit smaller, though.

Selekhael manages to wing it, chopping off a good quarter or so of the body along with its wing. It tumbles helplessly the last few feet, flailing wildly and yet still managing to bit down on Benedict-

-only for its teeth of ashes to scarcely even penetrate the occultist's thicker layers of cloth.

The knife is stabbed into it moments later, causing it to wail as its material form disintegrates.

All that remains is...

A feeling. A mindless malevolence. An unclean spirit. There is nothing to see. And yet-

One can perceive its impact on the world around it.

Like a greasy smear.

Like a crackling, glitching artifact.

Like an unnatural coldness.

Like the nauseatingly stench of anaerobic rot.

It dives into the ashes and rubble, feeding on death, spreading its corruption.

Building a new body.

But slower now. And smaller. The touch of the heavenly weapons has diminished it.

The rest of its brethren are flopping and slithering along slower than our heroes can run, so they'll be able to escape.

For now.

It remains to be seen how persistent these things are.

Before long Selekhael will reach her destination, right at the point where utter annihilation begins to give way to mere devastation. There is, of course, no way that any mortal art would have survived this explosion.

Selekhael is not, however, in search of mortal art.

There's a... thrumming sound. She has likely heard it before while traveling around the Nexus but she never really had any reason to investigate it. It's a very distinct, very mechanical, and yet very crystalline sound. A clear, clean note. As she approaches the sound grows steadily louder until she's right on top of it, where upon the crucible appears with a hollow whump! and a flash of heavenly light.

It looks like a simple, perfectly white porcelain object roughly a meter wide floating in mid-air. An oval with its longer ends stretched toward the horizon. Should Selekhael try looking at it from more than one angle she'll realize that it isn't an oval at all, but rather a torus. Should she reach out a hand toward it then object will fold open, revealing four individual sections waiting for her to deposit the reagents she has collected.

Gratitude from those she saved. Suffering from the ghosts she destroyed. Fear from witnessing the demon itself. And matter touched by the spirit of annihilation.

Best hurry.

The imps are behind, but not that far behind. Minutes at best.

[bc56]

Spirit Bomb
That doesn't look like a crucible. But don't look a gift... whatever it is in the... mouth, sure. Selekhael touches the torus and opens it wide. She takes four objects from her inventory and places them on the pedestals. A glowing orb that radiates relief. A dark and agonizingly malformed sphere. A jagged, spiky thing that seems to scream ever so softly. A handful of scorched gravel.

Then she waits to see the crucible do it's work.

[5a Violista]

[Spirit Bomb]

"Oh," Seraphina says. If someone apologizes, then there's no point in not forgiving them.

Seraphina thinks back at Selekhael.
"Um...no, she didn't ask any weird questions," she answers. Besides, 'weird question' is relative. Sure, she asked for fear but in context it was a relatively normal question. "I mean, she asked about what it was like being by whatever's at the explosion's epicenter, but you guys asked that too so that's probably not what you were asking about." Or maybe it was? Since they'd probably want to know who else is doing the same things as them? "Well, I suppose she also asked if I saw a furnace that wasn't destroyed, so I told her she'd have to head back outside the blast radius if she wanted one."

Anyway, about the plague doctor guy. "Oh, yeah, the plague doctor guy. He also had a sword that he used against the ghosts, but then one of them possessed a building? or something. Also, I don't think he's an actual plague doctor. But his mask, he said, was magicked to protect him from perceptions." Honestly, she only knew him for like a minute so she can't really give much of a description besides appearance. "Said he went there to prevent this sort of thing from happening again."
...
Seraphina thinks. Should she tell them about the Chimera, too? "Oh, um, I did run into one other person, but she left before the ghosts started to get bad, to help people who were trapped in the burning building. A dragon...lion...person? But, yeah, I think she left early enough that she probably has no danger of contamination."


[Mysterious Crimson DracoProtector Obsidian]

Oh!
Right!
Obsidian completely forgot she could do that.

...
She still doesn't do it.
Because she already considers herself to be a dragon. It'd be weird to turn into a dragon if she's already one, even if she doesn't exactly look like one.
Also, she legit forgot.

Obsidian notices that there's three of the cars.
And!
Counting her DracoMaid, there's three of them!
"Hey, maid!" she calls out. "That's enough! Come back here!"
As she's distracted by giving orders, Obsidian gets run into by one of the weird cars.
She tumbles down.

Obsidian groans. Ugh, that hurt. Why are they zooming so fast?
"Um! Don't get hit!" is her new order, since she figures her minion wouldn't nearly handle being hit as well as she did, since maids don't stand up to cars nearly as well as dragons do. "Stick around the cat lady!"
The Dark Maid, of course, runs back and...sticks around the cat lady, dodging and not doing much else.

Anyway, she needs revenge against the cars.
Being still on the ground, Obsidian notices that they have legs instead of wheels. Perfect! Wheels are always impossible to take out, but attacking legs is something she has a lot of experience against!
She makes sure to be on all fours (her hands and legs), like she's pretending to be a panther, and waits for the next car to zoom right at her. And then! She pounces, with her shiny claws swiping at a leg to take it!
Also, when it comes to cars, the legs are definitely the most edible part of a car.

[Rebonack]

[Spirit Bomb]

"A furnace?" Watcher Ballentine asks Seraphina, raising an eyebrow as she considers the implication there. "Did she ask about a furnace specifically? Or did she, ah, inquire regarding the location of a crucible?"

Uh oh.

It sounds like there is terminology going on here.

When the plague doctor is mentioned the Watcher mostly just nods her head. If someone is guiding their perceptions it may be due to having some level of awareness regarding the nature of the danger. A wizard, perhaps. Or even a specialist, such as a demonologist. It is equally possible that they are a different sort of practitioner. One never knows with the Nexus what sort of magic one may be encountering. It pays not to make too many assumptions.

"And a dragon lion. We've had reports of The Chimera aiding with rescue efforts in the portions of the disaster area which are still on fire. Do you know if they made any direct contact with the ghosts you observed? Or, ah, were they ever in the presence of the entity at the center of the blast zone, to your knowledge?"

Important question, there.

If they have reason to believe that The Chimera was at any point within the demon's area of influence it would be wise to detain them to screen for imps.

Watcher Ballentine gives a nod to Watcher Sanchez at this point before turning back to Seraphina. "I believe we have one further question for you, miss. How close were you, approximately, to the epicenter of the blast when you regained consciousness? Did Chimera extract you from one of the, ah, burning buildings?"


[Mysterious Crimson DracoProtector Obsidian]

Catherine doesn't nimbly dodge out of the way of the car zooming toward her. Instead she hauls back with her suddenly REALLY BIG mallet and smashes into the sooty floor of the Labyrinth with a NYAN! sound as a wave of kitty paws go rolling forward, slashing at the legs of of the familiar! This is also helpful since the mallet is so gigantic that she's now up in the air quite a bit and out of collision range of the car! This does not, however, stop several of the picture frame familiars from jumping on her.

Very annoying.

Mittens, meanwhile, is dodging around and batting at the second car! The giant spirit kitty is quite agile and difficult to run into so she's doing okay.

And it sounds like the maid is mostly just dodging? That's fine, too.

Flashing legs and flashing claws meet,
rend for rend limbs collide.

Destruction reaches for hunger,
wound meets with ravenous desire.

Servants without end yet ended,
familiars without number driven into the soot.

Deeper yet deeper the way forward lies open,
the path is revealed in the depths.

In darkness a heart of jealousy beats,
mind of wickedness bathed in soot remains.

Fire and wood pictures blackened and burning,
limbs of ashes grope and reach and smoke.

Only want remains kindling grief and regret,
crushing guilt fuels burning desire.

With hate and jealousy the Witch lashes out,
smothering hope it smites its foes.

[Vahnavoi]

[Arkham Street - Red Hook Pier]

The swordsman stabs his sword into a piece of the metal wall and uses it as a lever to wrench that piece between himself and the barrage of needles. He notices the futti making a spiral staircase of tiny cubes - oh, they can do that? If he'd known, he would've suggested it earlier! Any treacherous intent behind the maneuver is lost to him - he would've done the same thing if their roles were reversed. It's all one step, or many tiny steps, closer to victory for Team Hoshiki!

Right now, he has a different role to play. He notes the barrier which the girl hid behind. He removes his sword from the metal and waits for a lull in the barrage of needles. Then, he drops his impromptu shield and charges forward, slashing with his longer sword while grasping the hilt of his shorter one. He doesn't know the rules by which "drifting" works, but, should that be how the girl chooses to dodge his first hit, he's prepared to follow her to her new location and try again as fast as he can spot her. If that's not what she does, the first strike is to ruin her aim, followed by him drawing his shorter sword and trying to cut her head off.

[5a Violista]

[Spirit Bomb]

A crucible? Yeah, they definitely talked about crucibles, but Seraphina thinks she talked more about them than that other gal did. In fact, which one of them started talking about crucibles first? Ugh, that's such an unimportant detail compared to literally ghosts and perception things and paragraph monsters also everyone's dead that Seraphina's worried her memory's playing tricks on her.
"I think I was the first one who talked about crucibles?" Seraphina says, with a little uncertainty in her voice. "Like, I said it was like the whole place was, like, a crucible...but maybe she mentioned it first? Don't exactly remember." She hopes they understand that and forgive her for it. "Oh, but she didn't really understand how the ghosts worked, but she was pretty effective at getting them to stop chasing people." Apparently, that's something she was good at.

Since they didn't ask another question about Benedict, she doesn't say anything else about him. No doubt they've already got plans to keep a watch out for him and make sure he gets back safe.

"No, um, I'm pretty sure the Chimera didn't go anywhere near the center or touch any ghosts, since..." She traces a circle with her finger in the air, and sets down the empty water bottle to symbolize the center of the explosion. She then points in the general area where she and the Chimera encountered each other. "Ran into her about here. There were two ghosts nearby, but she left straight away, before the ghosts started acting out." Seraphina briefly considers whether it would be better to use 'she' or 'they' for Chimera...but quickly comes to the conclusion that even though they were separate people the first time they met, they're all together in one Chimera now so maybe they'd prefer 'she' better? Next time they meet, she'll have to ask Chimera which one's better. That mental tangent aside, Seraphina goes back to the question. "In fact, I can confidently say she didn't go anywhere near that thing in the center, and it's likely she got far enough away before the ghosts started chasing people." This was an important question to answer, because it has to do with whether someone's at risk of being contaminated and needing to write stuff on jumpscare monster paper.

However, how close Seraphina was to the epicenter is a much less important question to answer, especially because she still can't answer how she survived and would prefer to not be questioned on that. See? This is exactly why she tried being evasive about it with Chimera, too! (Even though she's pretty sure Chimera saw through it eventually.) If she just says 'Oh I was actually closer to the epicenter than to the burning buildings' they're just going to keep her here, question her, and ask her dozens of questions she doesn't know the answers to. And this is the last question, too, so it's probably one of the least consequential ones so it'd be incredibly suspicious if she doesn't answer at all!
"Actually, um...I was nearby." Seraphina clenches her fists to hide the scratches she got from helping dig Chimera up, and then she realizes that the way she said it would probably be interpreted as being 'nearby the epicenter'. Which is true for some definitions of 'nearby', sure, but probably not any definitions that they're looking for. So, she quickly corrects, "N-nearby Chimera, I mean. We were together. The dragon head was conscious before me, though. We split up because Chimera's large and fireproof, and I wanted to see if I could find if there were any other survivors who needed help."
Dang it.
In the water bottle map she made, she should've placed Chimera closer to the outside of the circle. That would've been far more believable.


[Mysterious Crimson DracoProtector Obsidian]

Obsidian is so jealous!
That's what she should have done! Smacked the car out of the way instead of having to dodge and crouch down and get hit!
And she should've told her maid to take down the second car! At this rate, Catherine's going to get two of them and Obsidian's only going to get one.

Obsidian focuses on trying to take out the cars' legs as fast as possible, hoping she can eat parts of them before Catherine finishes with her two. Unfortunately, she's not as agile as Mittens nor as hammer-jumpy as Catherine.

As she's snacking on a spirit-leg and trying to maim one of the cars, she comes to a realization.
"Oh! Oh! The witch! It's one of those fire zombies! Um...um...y'know, the ones that taste spicy and explode!" she says. Wait, that's not the best description of it...whatever. "Or maybe it's one of those ash shadows, um, the parasitic ones? Drains your feelings and then eats them and...you get what I'm saying?" They have a pretty soft taste with a dozen different flavors. Ugh. If only she had more people to discuss food with, then she could describe them better.

Also, she's wondering if they should head towards the witch spirit now. Shoot, new moral dilemma: go after the witch now or wait a bit first.

[bc56]

Arkham Street - Red Hook Pier
Batsael has priorities here.
First priority is to take the shot at the manipulative putti that's running off up the spiral stairs. The razor-sharp diamond dart fired by her lance speeds up towards its target, punching clean circular holes through each of the objects it strikes.
Then the swordsman is on top of her and her priority changes to not getting killed and kicked all the way to the bottom.
The swordsman's blade is met by another, parried with mechanical precision. Batsael takes a step back, her straight, single-edged blade of shining steel flickering with yellow flame. "I hate to hit and run, but..." She takes a swing at the swordsman's legs and disappears again.
She pops back up behind cover, where hopefully he can't see her so she can get to that tower unhindered and either catch up to that putti, if she missed (which is likely) or get ahead of the pack if her attack hit.