[M] Anima Mundi IC (Namingtoohard and Headwrapper)

[Headwrapper]

Mec let out an audible sigh when he spotted the owl as it descended from the tree's upper branches. His trek had proven to be so long that he was beginning to question if he was marching towards the same tree he had pinpointed in his earlier conversation with Shallan. Any doubts were quelled as he returned the familiar, strangely intelligent, gaze of Olenna's owl. With a hoot and a flutter of its wings, the creature was off, venturing deeper into the forest.

The setting sun provided a reminder of the urgency to follow suit. Even so, Mec stood still for a few moments, allowing himself an opportunity for a brief rest and to observe the city from this vantage point. His ability to control Clair's curse, or its symptoms, rather, was already becoming noticeably more laborious with distance. Before, the magical action was autonomous, like breathing. The effort and energy required was only apparent after the span of a day, and was made up for with a few extra hours of sleep each day. Now, Mec felt his mind was strained. He was losing focus on what was in front of him, the tasks at hand, because he was too busy thinking about maintaining the Equinox. Doing so, while traveling, noting the sun's position in the sky, watching his steps, felt like a balancing act.

The hills surrounding the city, bald of any trees and foliage and dwarfed by the large hills that the forests laid upon, were deceptively large. From where he stood, one would believe that the city was merely a stone's throw away. In reality, miles stood between Mec and the city itself, the furthest distance he had been from Shallan, Clair, the Misftis entirely, in a long time. Mec knew this distance had to be the cause for the extra focus required to use his ability, and realized that the real reason he paused to rest was to regain his control, like a coachmen tightening his grip on his horses' reigns.

Soon, the mage set to following after the owl, disappearing behind the line of trees and into the forest. He hastened his pace, eager to reach his destination before the sky dusked. After following the owl from tree to tree for what felt like ages, Mec finally found the wooden doll. He stepped forward and settled against a tree while he listened to Olenna's doll speak. Her straightforward approach had not phased him- he had grown used to it after several meetings. He had also grown used to her insistence on protecting him, and any other mages, at any cost.

"I will wait a few days for the troupe to finish their business, and continue on with them," he said, pulling away from the tree. "And more importantly, I am not going anywhere without Shallan." He waved a hand slowly, unearthing bundles of knotted roots that rose to make a makeshift bench of sorts. Mec lowered himself onto the seat casually, not far from Olenna's doll. "Another important thing is that I am still trying to control Clair's curse, if you remember. I have not been able to learn much more about it, but I can feel my ability to quell it is wavering now that I am distant. It was effortless before, but now I... must focus." His words began to slow as he refocused his efforts on the Equinox again, and he even went as far as to close his eyes for a long moment. "The source of her ailment is malicious, Olenna. And powerful, too. G's intervention is the only reason I was able to break through in the first place."

The mage turned his body slightly, pointing himself in the direction he had came. A long sigh escaped his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut again, tightening the grip on his ability once again. "I suppose this will be as good of training as any." Although he jested, he still wondered if his practice juggling fireballs and summoning botanical serpents was time poorly spent when compared to the task at hand.

~~~~~~~

It was late in the night when Godrich arrived at the tavern where the rest of the Misfits had retired. Beneath the dark blue hood he wore, his face reflected his exhaustion and his exasperation. His lips were set into a frown, and his eyelids parted only just far enough for him to make out the silhouettes of tables and patrons in the torchlight of the tavern. It was not until Ella stood right in front of him that he had noticed anyone approached him.

"Well?" Ella asked. She peered beneath the brim of Godrich's hood to meet his gaze.

Godrich stared at Ella for a long while. He made note of her chapped lips, cut and slightly stained with blood from hours of nervous biting. "I found out where she's been kept," he mumbled quietly. He pulled down his hood, and to his friend's surprise, a jet black mess of hair revealed itself from underneath. The transformation of red hair to black was nearly seamless despite it being a rushed job, with the only obvious tell being the black stains inside of the hood. "I learned a few things, intermingling with some folks. Capture sorceresses are not tried by a judge or any kind of nobility like normal criminals. Here, they are tried by some priestess. The so-called Silver Priestess or something along those lines. We only have a day, maybe two at most, before the sentencing."

He glanced around, before stepping towards the stairs that lead to the floor above and pulling Ella by the arm "Before I go on, take me to Shallan. We need to discuss the matter of her absent companion. You did not notice either, in all of the commotion, yes?"

[Namingtoohard]

The face on Olenna’s doll might have been featureless, but on the inside, the mage leader was scowling. They had only just begun to speak, and already, this conversation was not going how she had hoped. Every moment Mec wasted here, this close to a checkpoint, put him at risk of discovery. Furthermore, traveling with the girl put them both in danger. Olenna had hoped that, with a little persuasion, she could convince Mec to go on ahead. They would both be safer that way, and Shallan was happy traveling with the Misfits, was she not? Parting now, whilst painful, would have been best for the both of them in the long run. She was even willing to risk using her owl as a messenger, so that the two of them might send each other a goodbye message. Mec’s obstinate refusal made his opinion on the matter clear, though, and Olenna was shrewd enough to know that pushing the issue now wasn’t in her own best interests. So, with a measure of reluctance, she instead turned her attention to the topic at hand.

“Under other circumstances, I would have suggested that we spend this time furthering your training. If holding off this curse is as difficult as you say, though, then perhaps it would be unwise to push you any further now. The last thing we want is for your control to slip, and cause an incident inside a town that is already on high alert.” Olenna would lapse into silence for a brief moment as she considered how best to proceed. Her doll would turn its head to one side slightly, as if gazing off into the distance; a distinctly human gesture, but slightly at odds with how the owl kept its gaze fixed on Mec. After several heartbeats had passed on in silence, Olenna would continue.

“Very well. Since the bulk of my attention is already here, let us focus on solving this puzzle.” Her doll would straighten a little, and turn its head back towards Mec again, before taking a small step forward. “If you recall, the first time we met in person, I used my magic to show you how the Amina appears to me. Do you think you can do the same? If you can how me how this curse appears to you, then perhaps my experience will allow me to pick up on clues that you might have missed.” Olenna offered her suggestion in a calm voice, without scorn or judgement. She spoke as if Mec’s lack of practice were a simple fact, not something to be ashamed of. Everyone had to start somewhere, after all. If he could muster up the power to do this without letting the curse break free, then perhaps tonight would prove a different type of informative.

~~~

Given the day’s events, it was no surprise that the mood among the Misfits that evening was relatively sombre. Normally a new city and the promise of another performance was enough to have everyone bursting with excitement. Tonight, however, there was no singing, or laughter. There was nobody dancing, or playing drinking games, or flirting with potential viewers. Everyone sat in small groups, and kept to themselves. Sequestered away with only their closest friends, they asked each other the same handful of muttered questions, over and over, and pondered all possible answers.

“Was it all just some sort of mistake?”

“Has Clair really been a witch this entire time?”

“Do you think they’re going to execute her?”

“What’s going to happen to the rest of us now?”

Shallan had been invited to join more than one group, but she had refused them all. The performer had expressed her regret, and then waved them off. Put frankly, she had more important things to do. Part of it was that she wanted to help care for Shaun. More importantly, though, she had wanted some time to think. Time to figure out what she was going to say to Godrich, and what she was going to do. She didn’t have Mec or Olenna to lean on for advice this time. Didn’t have any way of contacting them to ask for help. This was something she had to figure out alone, and company and rumors and drink certainly weren’t going to help.

That’s where Godrich and Ella eventually found her. Shallan was seated atop one of the other beds in the room, watching over Shaun’s bandaged and bruised form as he slept. The sound of the door swinging open was enough to draw her from the depths of her own thoughts, and the performer found herself surprised that the two of them had come for her already. Either they were early, or Shallan had been waiting for much longer than she’d realised. The looks on their faces, and the fact Clair wasn’t with them, was enough to let Shallan know that the news wasn’t good. She’d meet their eyes for a moment, before throwing another glance at Shaun.

“Let’s move to another room.”

Shallan whispered the words, hoping to avoid waking the sleeping giant. As quietly as she could, she’d rise from her perch, and move to follow the two of them. She hadn’t quite come up with her answer yet, but she was out of time now. She’d simply have to play along with whatever they intended, and hope that she found her solution somewhere along the way.

[Headwrapper]

As Olenna's doll stepped forward, Mec allowed himself to open his eyes again. His gaze remained fixed in the direction of the city, which was not visible from behind the trees of their forest hideout. "Hmm, I recall that you see it as a river, branching out infinitely. The forces that flowed through the river gradually carved new paths, and I wondered if anything that could not overcome those forces would simply be swept away with the currents."

He paused for a while, and after a few seconds he could feel a faint itching in his eyes. The brown color of his irises lightened, gradually taking the color of a dark, tarnished gold. "I think I'll be able to show you," Mec said. He turned his gaze towards the owl, surrounded by the golden webs that anchored the world together, and reached out an arm to offer it a perch.

The vision Mec shared placed them in the same world he had first witnessed when he first used the Equinox. Golden webs filled about every bit of space available. During each snapshot in time, the webs served to bind each being to the Anima, and Mec was free to manipulate the webs as he chose to. When he pulled the tendrils that reached up from below his feet, he could unearth the roots from the ground below. Threads, so small that they were effectively invisible, could be tugged at the right speed to draw to unite the atoms and energy needed to spark and fuel flame.

Down below, beyond the trees and hills, the webs anchored to the masses of people holed up in their buildings. Mec could simply ignore the existence of their physical forms, the flesh, bones, and fluids that made up their bodies. Instead, he could observe how the webs behaved and moved, their patterns and shapes, changes in the golden color, and even the density of the webs. He could tell where Shallan was, having fully studied these characteristics around her physical form.

There were fewer subtleties when it came to the Anima's reactions around Clair. In addition to the common features, strands of blood-red webs bound themselves to her. They writhed and constricted, and sought to pull and reshape what the golden webs had held together. Mec's abilities manipulated the other webs to obstruct and impede the movement of the red, but he could never manage to destroy those red webs. "I can't control those ones, they are already under the influence of another, presumably one much stronger and knowledgeable than me," Mec explained. "I can not create nor destroy even the golden webs I've grown accustomed to, but I can change their length, their shape, reassign what they are anchored to... That appears to be exactly how my ability to disrupt other's magic is executed."

~~~~~~~

Godrich silently followed Ella through the inn as she lead him to where Sean was left to rest, and where Shallan had been helping to tend to his wounds. I have to get her back, or we'll lose everything, he thought, his heart heavy with the weight of such a burden. He had doubts about whether or not Ella had the same thoughts. Whether she realized it or not, Godrich knew that the red-haired maiden of the Misfits harbored a jealousy of their leader. On the surface, both women were talented in their crafts and tremendously beautiful, but Clair was always respected as a leader, even before the passing of the previous Lady. Everything came naturally to Clair, and she had the genius required to maintain the success and acclaim the Misfits carried.

Despite this, Godrich had to believe that Ella's personal disdains would pale to the matter at hand, and that she would be reasonable enough to understand they had to do whatever it took to get Clair back. Even if she really was a sorceress, it was a fact that the Misfits needed her to survive, at least right now. What would happen to those like Sean, who lacked the means to survive alone and defend himself from others who were much smarter and more conniving? What of the girls, some of whom were orphaned, who would not be safe alone?

With these thoughts in mind, Godrich steeled himself when Ella finally opened the door to one of the rooms. He looked over Sean silently, a heavy scowl plastered to his lips. Soon after, he turned to lead the way out of the room, taking them to a room where they could speak in private. There, Godrich recounted his explanation of the Silver Priestess and of his knowledge of Clair's whereabouts.

"I'm going to be frank," he eventually said in a hushed voice. He looked towards Ella, his stare silencing a statement that was just about to escape her lips, and then turned towards Shallan. "We have less than two days to free Clair, sorceress or not. The gravity of the situation is clear- the Misfits will not survive for very long without her, not right now. Therefore, our dignity, homes, livelihood, and safety face jeopardy. I say this because I need the three of us to all understand just what is at stake. I want to save my friend, I refuse to let her perish alone and scared. Just as importantly, we have a duty to protect each other and those that are in our care."

"Shallan, I believe you already understand why I'm telling you this, and not keeping these thoughts between me and Ella. There was another that did not make it through the city's gates, and Clair had to have known it. I believe you know too, which may mean you might know why Clair is in chains. Why did Mec not enter the city?"

[Namingtoohard]

The way Mec held his arm out was enough of an invitation for Olenna. Her owl was quick to spread its wings and leap from its current perch, and crossed the clearing in just a handful of wingbeats. It landed atop his arm in much the same way a real owl would, talons gripping tightly enough to hold it in place, but not so tight as to puncture the skin. As soon as it was settled, the owl turned its attention to their surroundings, ready to witness whatever it was Mec had to show her. Her doll, conversely, remained put for the moment. If Mec was going to carry her around, then it served no real function at the moment, beyond acting as her mouthpiece.

When Mec’s version of the Amina began to manifest, Olenna was quick to focus on the irregularity that plagued Clair. She might not have been used to the Anima taking on this particular shape, but the curse was impossible to miss, and difficult to ignore. It stood out like a sore thumb, or a pimple, but worse. A cancerous growth, a corruption, that took what was natural and twisted it into unfamiliar shapes. She listened to the information her young ward offered with half an ear, whilst her mind turned over what she was seeing.

“Strange…very strange…”

Olenna muttered the words to herself softly, unintentionally, whilst she tried to decode this puzzle. The cabal leader wondered, briefly, how such a thing would appear within her own vision of the Anima. A sort of magical pollution creeping into a branch of the river, perhaps? She wanted to get closer, so that she might examine this curse in more detail, but knew such a thing was unwise. They knew too little about what was happening here, and how the caster might react if provoked. Dispelling the magic of others was not her specialty, and if she attempted to interfere, and made a mistake, the consequences could be disastrous. For Clair, and for her.

“This exact breed of magic is unknown to me. I’m far from omnipotent, but still…” Olenna trailed off for a moment, before her owl turned its gaze away from this sore, and back to Mec. “The first time we met, you managed to cripple one of my dolls by disrupting its connection to the Anima. I’m sure you remember. Back then, you were much less experienced than you are now. If you still can’t remove this curse, despite your growing skill, then it stands to reason that the caster is even more powerful than I am. Much more powerful.” For the first time tonight, a hint of emotion had crept into Olenna’s voice. She sounded dazed, her awe palpable. It took a few seconds for her to regain her composure, and start thinking about this phenomenon analytically again.

“I suspect that removing this curse would require the concentrated efforts of several powerful mages working in tandem, under the guidance of a gifted nullifier. Even then, it wouldn’t be a sure thing. We have no idea what the caster is truly capable of, or how they might try and retaliate.” Olenna took this opportunity to have her owl fly back over towards her doll; a subtle signal to Mec that he could let his vision of the Anima fade, if he so wished. “I can make some enquiries, if you so wish, but I promise nothing.”

~~~

The short walk to another vacant room was rife with implication. Shallan had spent her afternoon thinking that she’d need to track down Godrich and Ella, and barge in on their discussion while they were trying to decide what to do next. The fact that they’d come to her directly, and hadn’t thought to include Sarah, suggested that they had already noticed something critical. Could she explain Mec’s absence without giving away that he was a mage, if she needed to? Shallan doubted it. Even so, she did her best to avoid making any assumptions. She even did a few of the breathing exercises Sarah had taught her to calm herself before a stage show, just to help her prepare mentally.

Once the three of them were sequestered away, Shallan listened to Godrich’s explanation patiently, while she tried to make up her mind. The information he shared was important, but it didn’t help with her most immediate problem. The speech that followed, however, was an unexpected blessing. Godrich’s open declaration that they needed Clair, that they would protect each other even if one of them were a mage, was enough to tip the scales in Shallan’s mind. The question that followed provided her with the opportunity to speak her piece, too. In the heat of the moment, Shallan decided that there was no way to sugar-coat this. No way she could spin things to make them sound less threatening. She’d just have to rely on open honesty, and hope that they hadn’t misled her.

“Mec chose not to enter the city because he’s a mage.” The words flowed from Shallan’s tongue more freely than she’d expected. Where had such calmness come from? Perhaps Godrich’s earlier speech was to blame. Either way, she was quick to continue, before either of her listeners could jump in and interrupt. “Clair isn’t a mage, but she has been cursed by one. The entire time we’ve been traveling, Mec has been using his powers to stop it from killing her. Apparently the curse’s influence was enough to make her fail the test at the checkpoint. You both remember that Clair was sick the first time we met, right?”

It didn’t take long for the entire story to flow out. Shallan told them of the way Mec had been ‘run out’ of their home town, for things beyond his control. How she had gone with him willingly, and they were travelling to avoid persecution. How Clair had been cursed by someone else, definitely not Mec, and he had been trying his hardest to remove it. That Clair had known, and sent Mec away before they reached the checkpoint to protect him. That Mec had never hurt anyone, and only wanted to live a life of safety. The only thing she excluded from her tale was the existence of Olenna’s underground Cabal, and the role they’d played in Mec’s journey.

When Shallan was done, she fell silent. Gave her two companions a chance to digest this information, and waited to see how they would react. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long before they could move on and begin to discuss the real problem in earnest.

[Headwrapper]

Once the weight of Olenna's owl left his arm, Mec blinked away the itch beneath his eyelids, and his irises returned to brown, as gradually as they had changed before. He treated Olenna's suspicions as confirmation of the strength and knowledge that the caster of the curse must have had- something he long believed from his first interaction with the curse. "We will have to try something, and unfortunately the time to do so is approaching. We will not be traveling with the troupe forever, but it would be dangerous to abandon Clair without a means to combat the curse."

Mec's stomach grumbled then, and in response be began to rummage through his bag. He did not have much food to speak of, some nuts and dried meat and a pouch full of water. He suspected he could use his magic to conjure other sources of nourishment, shielded with the privacy that the forest provided, and hoped he would be given the chance to do so while he continued to focus on the current task at hand.

~~~

The confession that left Shallan's lips catalyzed visible disturbances for both Godrich and Ella. While the suspicions were already present and had been heavily implied, the presence of a confirmation with specific details to collaborate were difficult to process. Godrich stood, pacing as he listened to Shallan's recollection of events and the details of Clair's curse. Occasionally he would glance towards Ella, who remained mostly still as she looked back at her peer. She bit her bottom lip, hard, but it was unclear if she what she was thinking. Whatever it was, she did not betray the same sort of panic as Godrich. The woman remained uncharacteristically cool and calm, listening to Shallan's story patiently as her hands busied themselves with stroking the ends of her red hair.

Eventually, Godrich's pacing would slow to a halt, leaving him with his hands pressed against one wall. He turned and silently returned to the others before speaking. "That explains... much," he finally said, and cleared his throat. It was clear that the origin of Clair's curse was unknown, so he did not belabor the issue further. "Maybe... Mec can help us, then? If it is as you say-"

"Godrich!" Ella snapped. "You aren't serious, are you? If her story contains even a speck of truth, we're lucky we're not strung up ourselves, as collaborators. Especially after you challenged the guards, and Sean... well."

"We can't do nothing, Ella."

"We can, and perhaps that would be best. What's done is done. Word will spread of what is happening, jeopardizing our reputation and our safety. If we push the issue and the masses learn of it, we'll never find work again. Our usual cliental might feel uneasy once they hear the news about Clair, but we might be able to ease that over. We would have no chance of doing so if they suspect that we're all a bunch of sorcerer-sympathizing collaborators."

Godrich froze, his lips quivering with the desire to refute Ella's points, to the tear them down and convince her how wrong she was. He could not. Her logic made sense. The man swore under his breath, lowering himself onto a seat. For a minute he was stuck in though, biting down on one of his knuckles while he was in silent contemplation. Even if they had freed Clair and fled, what would they do? Shallan and Mec managed to stay out of trouble for as long as they had, but they were only a pair and still had their fair share of trouble. What could a troupe, whose skillsets required publicizing their presence and talents, do to protect themselves while surviving if they were labeled as criminals?

A calm expression graced Ella's features as she watched her friend struggle with the truth of their situation. She put her away her normal, brash and self-confident air, and frowned as she empathized with the man. She leaned forward, reaching to squeeze Godrich's arm. "You're always the first one to protect us, especially us girls Godrich. That's what Enric and Teresa taught you, to be the shield to protect us. All of us, and Clair is lost to us now." After a moment, she nodded towards Shallan. "We must stay out of it to protect ourselves, but who's to say someone else might lend a hand, and Clair would be safe with them?"

Finally, Godrich stirred, having steeled himself. "You're right," he said. "The Misfits will have to take no part in it. So I will be resigning." He raised a hand, quickly shushing Ella's protests. "It is as you say, I am a product of my upbringing under Enric and the Mistress. I simply can not stand idle in this situation. I have a plan."

"Firstly, Ella, with Clair's current position and my resignation, you are now in charge of the Misfits. It is imperative that your focus tomorrow is to find legitimate work for every single member- something above board, well-documented, proving the attendance of every Misfit. If you can't do so, then you must depart tomorrow. Let the guards search until their curiosity is sated, so that they know full-well that the Misfits' are not involved with any actions Clair might happen to take in two days."

"The rest then, is up to us," Godrich said, glancing towards Shallan. "We will sort out the details, but Ella can not be a collaborator or know, in order to protect the new leader of the Misfits." He smiled, a sorrowful, bittersweet smile, before looking towards Ella. "It's your turn, now. Lead them, and keep the vision alive."

Godrich stood, taking Ella by the hand and helping her stand. The woman was quiet, unsure, maybe, but Godrich knew Ella better than anyone. He knew that she had dreamed of leading the troupe, knew that she always had progressive and new ideas for guiding them forward, and that she craved the opportunity under any other circumstance. He knew that despite Ella's usual disposition, her arrogant way of speaking and unrealistic standards, that she only needed one chance to be as good of a leader for the troupe as Clair or anyone. They embraced for a long moment, and Ella whispered a warning to Godrich before they slowly peeled apart.

Ella cleared her throat, glancing back and forth between both Shallan and Godrich. "Right, then. I have my matters to attend to, so I will leave you both to yours. Best wishes." With that, she departed.

[Namingtoohard]

“Things aren’t quite so simple as that. It could take months to assemble everyone necessary in an appropriate location. Clair may have no choice but to leave the troupe with you if she is to survive this curse.” Olenna’s next words were spoken in the same calm, calculated tone that she had been using before. As if she were remarking on something as basic as the weather, instead of suggesting that this girl abandon her livelihood. Give up the business and family that she had devoted her entire life to building, and go running off with a relative stranger. “Even if we could arrange things more quickly, it’d be very difficult to conduct the cleansing without the rest of her group finding out. A clean break might be best for all.”

Whilst Mec wrestled with the realities of their situation, Olenna turned her attention to another matter. Acting on some unspoken command, her doll turned and moved towards the nearest tree. It seated itself amongst the roots, leaning its back against the trunk, just as a human might. At the same time, the owl on its shoulder relocated to a nearby branch, though it kept its gaze fixated on Mec.

“I must go. There are other mages I need to check on tonight, and now I have some inquiries to make. Since you are not currently travelling, I shall simply leave my doll here for the time being. If you need me urgently, reach out and touch it with the Anima. I will feel it, and come as soon as I am able. Otherwise, we shall speak again tomorrow.” The thing seemed to droop, then. Go limp, as if all the life had drained out of it. That was what had happened, in a manner of speaking. Olenna’s consciousness had fled, leaving only an empty shell behind.

~~~

Shallan felt oddly out of breath once she had finished her story, and the moments that followed were some of the most nerve-wracking she had ever lived. The air seemed pregnant with tension, and the looks both Ella and Godrich gave her seemed to possess true weight. Their reactions, when they finally came, seemed like polar opposites. The fact that Godrich was willing to ask for Mec’s help, knowing that he was a mage, was enough to make hope bloom in Shallan’s chest. The mere implication that Ella doubted her story, however, was enough to rouse the aspiring singer’s anger. She had always suspected that Ella coveted Clair’s position as leader, and it seemed that she had found her opportunity to seize control.

The idea that she would try and do so at the cost of Clair’s life almost made Shallan lash out, but she bit back the words that sprang to mind. There were more lives at stake here than just Clair – if the rest of the Misfits were deemed to be collaborators, then they would all pay the price. As much as Shallan hated to admit it, Ella made a good point, regardless of her true intentions. Godrich seemed to realise it, too. There was also no denying that Shallan didn’t have much of a place in this part of the conversation. She was a member of the Misfits, through and through, but had no experience managing the group as a whole. As much as she hated to admit it, Shallan was out of her depth. Better to let those with experience talk things out until she came up with something of real value to add, or they moved back towards more personal topics.

The next few sentences out of Godrich’s mouth were a roller-coaster of emotion. The declaration that the Misfits would do nothing to help Clair was a shock in and of itself, and his impromptu retirement was enough to elicit a small gasp of surprise from Shallan. By leaving the Misfits, he was willingly giving up everything that had been taken from Clair by force, with the singular exception of his life – something he’d be risking in their attempts to free her. The amount of resolve required to simply hand control of the Misfits to Ella, the loyalty required to place Clair above himself like that, was nothing short of staggering. The news that he had a plan was much more welcome, given that Shallan had just a few scraps of possibility, and was yet to sew them together into a concrete idea.

When Godrich helped Ella rise, and began to lead her towards the door, Shallan found herself feeling like a peeping tom of sorts. Like she was an unwelcome guest, watching an intimate moment that was meant only for the two of them. She even went so far as to avert her eyes, directing them towards the far wall in an attempt to give the two a modicum of privacy. Once Ella was gone, Shallan finally spoke.

“Plausible deniability is a useful thing, I suppose” Shallan muttered softly, more to herself than anything, before she turned her attention to Godrich good and proper. She’d hesitate for just a few moments, as if wondering whether or not she should speak, before she’d finally continue. “Thank you, Godrich. For giving up so much to help Clair, and for choosing to believe in Mec. Even knowing that he’s…what he is. I’m sure they’ll both thank you themselves when we all leave the city together, but…well, you know.” The moment would drag on for a long moment, before Shallan would finally turn her attention to the actual task at hand.

“I’m glad to hear that you have a plan in mind, but I’m not sure how much use Mec will be from outside the city. If the guards here are taking mages captive, then they’ll have special cells for them. Ones that dampen or resist magic somehow. If you can’t use magic to break out of them, then I’m not sure trying to break in with magic will be any easier. Hell, if they have the tools to detect mages at the gates, then who knows what other surprises they have in store for them?” Shallan would let the question linger for a moment, before pushing ahead without waiting for a response.

“I was toying with the idea that we could try impersonating underlings of the Silver Priestess, or the city guards. See if we can’t trick the guards at the prison into thinking we were taking Clair to her execution, and have them release her into our custody.” Shallan would tap her fingers on her leg rhythmically, lips pursed, as she mulled the idea over in a little more detail. “That said, I was under the impression that we’d have an entire troupe of performers skilled in wilful deception to help us, and all of their costumes. Without them, things will be much more difficult, and I have no idea how we’ll get her out the city gates…” At long last, Shallan trailed off, and allowed Godrich a chance to respond.

Deep down, she was deeply wounded by the idea that her time with the Misfits had come to an end. The idea that her apprenticeship under Sarah, and all the time she’d spent living her dream, had actually concluded. That it had been ripped from her forcefully by circumstance, and that she wouldn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. She’d always known the moment would come, but even so. Shallan shoved those thoughts down, though. Buried them deep inside, out of necessity. Locked them away in the back of her mind, so that she could focus on the important task at hand. There would be plenty of time for grieving later, once Clair was safe.

[Headwrapper]

After Olenna's departure, Mec observed the limp doll, contemplating in the silence. He was now alone, save for the owl that watching him intently from the branches above. The quiet was strange, even in the dark of night. There was no shuffling of troupe mates as they tossed in their beds or returned late, the creaking of floorboards in an inn or the shuffling of a tent cover. The last time Mec had been so alone and experienced such quiet may have been... well, he was not sure any more. Even during the handful of times that he was captured he was hardly alone. It may have been back before Shallan and his travels began, when he was still home.

He focused his efforts on maintaining his Equinox. His control of the Anima was being tried every once, beyond the added challenge the distance introduced. It was like something was tugging back, trying to break the webs he was trying to manipulate into carrying out his will. There was no way to know for him to know the significance of this feeling, and he chocked it up to his inexperience in using the ability in such a way. After focusing his breathing for some time, the mage felt comfortable with the current effects of his magic, and allowed his mind to wander once again.

Can you hear me? he thought. There was only silence. Where did you go? He sat in silence for a while longer, before continuing on. If I were to find out what you are, and help you with your goals, would that make you... us, strong enough to save Clair? Sometimes I wonder what happened to you. If you have passed on, or maybe found someone else to speak to that would be more useful to you. Other times I wonder if you're the reason for the strange dreams, the ones with those strange... People? The one was like a mermaid, but not as I've ever imagined one. The other, some kind of angel? They always seem to help me in those dreams.

His thoughts halted, as he listened carefully. Straining, he heard a voice.

~~~


Godrich sat in silent contemplation while Shallan spoke. "So they have tools like that, huh?" he wondered aloud. He regretfully came to the same conclusion, then, that Mec would be a non-factor in their mission. "Your idea has merit," he said. "And I think that despite the lack of... resources, we can still make it work. We're both talented troubadours, are we not? We can whip up something. We just need to know more about this so-called priestess so we can effectively play our parts."

"As for leaving the city, I think it will have to be a hasty endeavor," Godrich said. "If we do manage to release Clair, it will be best to leave before the Silver Priestess and the mage hunters realize she is missing. I would think that leaving the city would be a quicker endeavor than entering. I'm not sure why they would check for mages who are leaving the city, but we will have to check beforehand. If they are, well, then to hiding we'll go.

In any case, we'll need a disguise for Clair to help conceal her as soon as we release her." Godrich began to pace the room. "I have leftover supplies for another batch of hair dye, but it would be too messy. Not to mention we would lack the time to apply it properly. Maybe we can borrow a wig, a very good one. I hate to suggest it, but worst case we can always cut off her hair, dress her up like a servant or the like." He stopped pacing then, leaning over the back of one of the chairs instead. "We don't know how much time we have, so we won't be able to prepare for everything. I think as soon as we know the main exit is safe and have details on the priestess and her supposed underlings, we take the plunge."

The late night quickly caught up to the scheming pair. Godrich had begun to grow visibly exhausted with the day's sleuthing and the night's scheming and discussing. "Maybe we should sleep on all of this, and regroup in the morning, eh? I hate to pause, but we'll need our strengths tomorrow."


~~~

"Let's sleep, Vana." Gaxeel tossed a pheasant bone into a fire, from his seat against a nearby stump.

"I've been trying to, despite your lectures about honor and duty." On the other side of the fire, a woman laid on her back with her hands behind her head. Her brown hair fell just below her ears, and the reflections of the constellations above sparkled in the dark green pools of her eyes. Beside her lay a quiver, and a white, silvery bow. "What's the rush, anyway? Do you really want to go to that city with the big walls, and that bitch priestess?"

"Vana, you know what she means to the order. She's the reason you have that bow, remember?"

"I just think she can be nicer," Vana responded with a puerile tone. "You wouldn't be such a suck up if you weren't in hot water, letting a mage get away in front of a bunch of people like that. I heard he wasn't even a strong user of magic and he still got away."

Gaxeel frowned, which caused a tight sensation in his scarred face. "He had help," he growled. Is it still pointing that way?"

Vana did not even stir to look at the "it" Gaxeel referred to. The device that his strange lapdog Wycan made, a compass made out of the salvaged pieces of the destroyed doll. "Will you ever let five minutes pass without asking? Yeah, it was pointing that way earlier. And sometimes it points completely different ways, but if you wait long enough, it eventually points that way again. If whatever your freaky scholar said is true, we'll find this so-called "help" soon. Or, we'll reach the end of the world and fall off of it."

[Namingtoohard]

Godrich saying that her idea still had merit, even though they were working with fewer people and limited resources than expected, was enough to help soothe some of Shallan’s fears. The consequences of failure still terrified her, but it was enough to help her move past the point of indecision, and start thinking about their plan in earnest. Actually start pondering practical details, instead of just the larger picture. It wasn’t long until Shallan became glad of his presence for another reason, too. For all her planning, she had failed to consider how they might disguise Clair after her escape, or the possibility that the city exits might also be under watch. Both were very valid concerns, and Shallan was a little annoyed at herself for not thinking of them before.

As the evening dragged on, fatigue quickly began to set in. The physical exhaustion brought on by their walk to the city felt negligible compared to the mental strain that came with such extensive scheming. When Godrich suggested that they turn in for the night, and reconvene early in the morning, Shallan was quick to accept. She had no doubt that they’d be more productive working with fresh minds, and sleep was calling to her. Without any further delay, Shallan bid her companion farewell, slipped from the room, and made for the bed that she had claimed earlier in the day.

~~~

The set of gates designated for those wishing to leave the city proved just as crowded as the ones the Misfits had entered through.

Shallan watched from the far side of the square as the city’s guardsmen went about their business, shepherding people through the gates at a moderate pace, and out into the greater world beyond. The crowd was moving much quicker than the line had yesterday, and she strongly suspected that the lack of inspection protocols had something to do with it. Indeed, Shallan had been there for almost an hour, and was yet to see any sign of the strange quill artefacts they’d been using to test for mages at the entrance. Most of the people leaving didn’t seem to warrant so much as a second glance, their faces forgotten as soon as they departed. Good news for their plan, all things considered.

Shallan had awoken early that morning, despite her fatigue, out of habit just as much as necessity. She’d sought out Godrich immediately, and they’d quickly agreed to spend the morning gathering information. Now, dressed in the plainest clothes she owned, with a half-eaten pie cooling in one hand, Shallan continued to stare into the shifting mass of people. She hadn’t bothered with a hood, or a wig, or any makeup, just because none of the guards had any reason to be suspicious of her. She had passed their test yesterday, and hadn’t outed herself as a collaborator. Shallan had found a convenient spot on a vacant bench as soon as she’d arrived, and had been watching ever since.

She lingered for another fifteen minutes or so, before deciding that was long enough. If the guards hadn’t brought out the quills by now, then Shallan doubted that they were going to. She chomped down the rest of her pie, rose to her feet, and took a quick moment to stretch. Then she turned and set off, diving into the crowd herself, whilst hoping that she was remembering the directions properly.

When Shallan arrived at the prison quarter, she found the place nothing short of gloomy. While far from empty, the streets were considerably less crowded than the gates had been. She hadn’t ever expected to miss the sounds of merchants and guards shouting orders, but this place quickly proved her wrong. Even those chaotic sounds were preferable to the clinking of chains, and the rattle of prison wagons. The idea of Clair being stuffed into one of those things was enough to make Shallan’s nose wrinkle with disgust. She didn’t waste much time dwelling on the thought, though. She reminded herself that she had a job to do, and quickly set off in search of Godrich.

It didn’t take Shallan long to find her collaborator. She was quick to approach Godrich, and it wasn’t long before she fell into step beside him. A single nod served as her greeting, before she cast a way eye around. When she was confident they wouldn’t be overheard, Shallan finally spoke. She still kept her voice soft, though, just in case.

“You were right about the city gates. Things have been nice and relaxed all morning. So long as nobody raises the alarm beforehand, we shouldn’t have any problems getting out of the city.” Her information shared, Shallan allowed her attention to drift to the buildings nearby. Did the Silver Priestess conduct her business from nearby, or did she make her home in another part of the city? It would’ve been nice to kill two birds with one stone, but perhaps they’d be better off if she were further away. It’d make things easier when the time came to make their move. “Have you had any luck?”

[Headwrapper]

"Somewhat, I suppose," Godrich replied. He pulled Shallan aside gently, nodding towards building. "That building is where they are keeping her. I suppose it is too dangerous to keep a sorceress out in a public cage or pillory, lest they lash out on the passersby. Anyways, I have not seen anyone resembling a priestess, a silver one or otherwise, come remotely near it. It's good that you're here, actually. I have been too nervous to leave the entrance of that building out of my sight, in case they arrived without me being aware.

"We need to determine what will be required to convincingly play at the Priestess's followers. It sounds like their temple is closer to the center of the city, as a means of making it accessible to the masses that pass through." Shifting his weight slightly, he glanced towards Shallan briefly before transfixing his gaze towards the aforementioned building once more. "That should make it just as accessible to us, and with any luck, we might learn what we need. I can continue to keep watch here. If the temple's stewards make their way here I will do what I can to buy time. You should try to make your way towards the temple - act like a troubled soul looking for guidance if you would prefer - and make note of what we need. I would hate to needlessly raise suspicion for them, but for the sake of time you can speak to Ella about having someone help prepare any costumes we might need."

~~

The temple itself was a massive sanctuary, with ceilings so high that the inn the Misfits were making refuge in could fit inside. Pews were lined evenly from the door to about halfway into the room, crafted from a sturdy, darkly stained wood. Intricate patterns were carved across the backs and sides of each pew, and filled with a silvery paint. The silver sparkled in the light that shown through the massive glass windows that lined the walls, arching overhead with the tall ceilings. Beyond the pews, thick rugs lined the floors, where the most devoted in their prayers knelt or sat directly on the floor while they prayed. Further beyond that was a raised pedestal. Upon it sat sturdy lectern, crafted similarly to the pews, and lined with silver and white. Behind it raised a massive altar, lined with white candlesticks.

In front of the lectern, feet dangling over the edge of the tall pedestal, sat a woman. Her straight, long, raven hair fell below her shoulders, laying elegantly over her loose, white gown. Her neck, fingers, and wrists were adorned with silver jewelry, which did not house a single gemstone. Rather, the bracelets, rings, and necklaces were decorated with various markings and letters from a different language than the common. The woman's misty blue eyes gleamed over a tomb that she held in her delicate, pale fingers, only occasionally glancing away from it to spare a glance to a visitor of the sanctuary, or to bid something to one of the stewards of the temple.

With one glance of her pale blue eyes, a group of stewards hurried off. Meanwhile, the Silver Priestess rose, gently making her way behind the lectern. Soon after, two of the stewards returned. It was a young lad, nearly shaved bald, and a lass about the same age, with bowl-cut hair that barely reached the tops of her ears. They were both dressed in plain robes and sheepskin shoes, making them nearly invisible and silent to those around them. The pair carried a very large tome, which, when opened, covered the entire surface of the lectern. The Silver Priestess blinked her long eyelashes as she watched the stewards place the tome before her, sparing them not even a glance when they vanished to the sidelines while she slowly leafed through the pages. The temple fell quiet.

"Ye come before me. Ye come tired. Ye come distressed, hungry, battered. Ye come as what you are, what we all are, as mortals. Mortals, whose time, energy, and resolve are finite. Weak and limited, with little regency of your destiny. Be you common, be you noble, the truth of your mortality remains.

Here you find these walls that serve as sanctuary. These walls to shelter your fragile frames from the harsh summer sun, the icy winter frosts, the chills of rains and the quickness of the winds. These walls protect your physical being.

Lest not forget, ye mortals, that there exists more than our physical existence. Do not forget of your spirit, which is not mortal, and will linger for all of time. Forget not that even this aspect of our form has weakness. What walls, oh mortal spirits, can protect us from what is not physical?

It is only the embrace of the goddess Praesia that will protect thee! Her hands create the walls that will shield your spirit when your flesh has dissolved into the earth, and the walls of this sanctuary eventually crumble to dust. She has and will always continue to protect us from the great evils of the demons. The false gods who weaponize our greed. The false gods who whisper in our ears to betray fellow man. The false gods who promise us foolish mortals a power that is not our right to seek, and inevitably turn us astray. Hail to the goddess Praesia, hail to our most gracious guardian.

The Silver Priestess then bowed her head, and lead a small prayer. Eventually, she raised her head again before continuing her sermon.

Only the wise will pay heed to the story of the boy, Loot, who played with demons even after the arrival of Praesia to our world, after the Dark Days. After Praesia's arrival to our world, and after the wars that were won by her champions, there were still forces that sought to corrupt the human soul in order to gain influence. The boy, Loot, was one such soul, a soul who played with the demons. Loot was young, and the demons were cunning. They started small, allowing Loot to grow comfortable and dependent on their presence. Recall, that the boy Loot was a poor, orphaned boy, in a far off town where the teachings of Praesia had not yet reached. He would go mad with hunger at night, often going days without food. He would suffer cold, harsh, nights without shelter, and suffer from burns from the scorching hot sands beneath his bare feet during the day. Beyond this, Loot worried, for he witnessed every day that there were others who suffered the same as him. He feared that he would perish, succumbing to the suffering, and the world would not change for the better, and the suffering would pass on to another. That is the thinking of a boy who has not met the grace of Praesia, and learned faith.

As Loot suffered, he met with the demons. They whispered promises in his mind to rid him of the suffering, and to give him the power to prevent others from suffering the same. In secret, Loot would hide in caves, where the demons tricked him. They used their dark magics to feed the boy, to cloth him, to heal his scars and callouses. They began to mold him. When Loot became a man, he knew no bounds. He burned alive those who he felt had committed sin, without trial. He used his magic to feed the peasantry of his lands, but only to usurp his own rule over the dependent masses. Then, he began to amass armies, intent on conquering the continent. The demons had molded him into what they wanted: a dark sorcerer, bent on raising war and bringing back the Dark Days. Loot had played with demons, and in turn, they played with him.

What became of Loot, and his armies? The wise will recall, that Praesia's champions had eventually reached Loot's tribes. Protected by the goddess, he could deliver no harm to them, and was stricken down. The tribes were ultimately rid of their dependence on demon magic, and the demon's plans were foiled.

Let Loot's story remind us the importance of Praesia's teachings. Let it remind us to feed and show kindness to our less fortunate, lest the demons feed them. Let it remind us that straying from our guardian is to forsake ourselves, for we are naked without her protection."

[Namingtoohard]

The news that Clair was being kept within the prison’s depths wasn’t particularly surprising. While Shallan had no doubt that the city’s officials would’ve loved to make an example of any mages they captured, the risks were just too high. It would’ve been more convenient for them, but…well, raiding a prison wasn’t supposed to be easy. The news that the Silver Priestess’ church was located near the middle of the city wasn’t much of a shock, either. The idea that all people should be equally close to god was a common one, and the preachers of the world always seemed to love symbolism, regardless of whose word they claimed to be spreading. Shallan accepted all of this information with a single, simple nod.

“I’ll see you back at the inn, then. Stay safe.”

It was a short farewell. Direct. There was no point in mincing words, given their circumstances. Flowery speeches and heartfelt goodbyes wouldn’t mean anything if they took so long that Clair was executed, and they both knew what they were about. Without any more fanfare, Shallan turned away, and set off towards her new destination.

~~~

The temple proved impossible to miss. Shallan had been prepared to ask for directions, but there was no need, given the sheer size of the thing. Visible from several streets away, the ivory towers seemed to pierce the sky itself. When Shallan arrived at the entrance, she cast her gaze upwards, mission momentarily forgotten. The strange perspective was enough to make her feel dizzy, and the aspiring performer found herself wondering if they rivalled the city walls themselves. This was certainly the largest building that she’d ever visited in her relatively short life, despite all the travelling she’d done with the Misfits.

That was only the beginning, too. When Shallan stepped across the threshold, she found her gaze drawn to one thing after another. From the stained glass windows to the liquid silver that adorned the pews, the entire church seemed to ooze opulence. Her own relationship with religion was complicated – Shallan believed that there was something greater out there, but had never settled on what that might be. The words of most preachers were rife with contradictions, and never seemed to stir her heart the way they did most true believers. Looking at this place, though…well, Shallan could understand how such grandeur might convince some people that god was real.

After a few moments spent staring, Shallan reminded herself that she had a job to do. She forcibly dragged her attention away from the splendour that surrounded her, and focused instead on the people. Quite a crowd had gathered, though Shallan wasn’t entirely surprised. If the city officials allowed the church to play a role in the dispensation of justice against mages, then they probably had a rather solid grip on the city’s population. Maybe it was they who supplied the material used to detect mages, or maybe it was their doctrine that had caused such paranoia. Either way, Shallan could ignore most of the other visitors. It was the officials she needed to look out for.

It wasn’t long before her attention settled on the woman seated at the front of the masses, just before the lecturn. Her gaze took in not just the woman’s features and clothing, but also the mass of silver jewellery she wore. An outfit befitting someone calling themselves the Silver Priestess. Was she the same one that Godrich had spoken of, or were there multiple preachers? Her attendants were dressed much more sparingly, which left Shallan to wonder. Given the way that people seemed to speak of her, Shallan assumed the former.

She quickly decided to seat herself near the front of the pews; close enough to have a good view of everything, and to listen in easily, but without the risk that came from kneeling alongside the truly devout. When the sermon began, Shallan tried to focus not just on the point this woman was trying to make, but on the words themselves. She tried to memorise the manner in which the priestess spoke, habits and all. She tried to memorise the prayers and blessings she uttered, just in case she needed to repeat them. All of it was information that might be vital, if she were to try and impersonate one of these people. It would be difficult, to retain so much from just a single sermon, but Shallan was determined to try. Perhaps she’d return to listen again, if time allowed, but Clair’s uncertain fate left no promises.

The story contained within the priestess’ words was interesting for different reasons. Shallan doubted that the story was true; not in the sense that the preacher made it out to be, at the very least. Still, the aspiring actor couldn’t help but wonder if it contained some small seed of truth. She knew better than most that many stories began as retellings of true events, until time or exaggeration began to blur the lines between history and myth. Had a mage named Loot ever really existed? Had magic really come from demons originally? Was G just one of them? How would he respond to this particular story? If he felt inclined to respond at all, Shallan supposed. It gave her a lot to think about, if not for the reasons the Silver Priestess intended.

When the sermon came to an end, Shallan rose with the rest of the crowd. She did her best to follow the lead of the people around her, since she was counting on them to help her blend in. The vast majority of the people packed into the church began to filter towards the doors, though they moved at a leisurely pace. Nobody wanted to seem like they were rushing from god’s sight, Shallan supposed. Some people, however, elected to remain behind. Some remained seated, whilst others moved to light candles, or pray on their own. Yet more chose to speak with each other, or one of the attendants. A few bold people seemed like they were poised to speak to the Silver Priestess herself. Shallan briefly considered joining them, wondered if she might glean any additional insight that way. It wasn’t long before she decided against it. She had enough information to get them started; anything more was folly.

Shallan followed the crowd until they slipped under the archway, and back out into the street beyond. She glanced back over her shoulder, took in the visage of the elaborate church once more, and then began the journey back to the inn.

~~~

When Shallan returned to the inn, she found it strangely empty. It was only while she contemplated her next move that the reason came to her. Godrich had insisted that Ella find work for all the Misfits today, so that they’d all be beyond suspicion after the breakout. A part of her wanted to try and hunt down Ashlyn or Tanya despite that fact, so that they might say their goodbyes. Shallan knew that sort of sentiment was folly they could ill-afford, though. She had no idea if Godrich was back yet, and didn’t want to bother Ella, since they were supposed to keep the Misfits’ new leader in the dark concerning their plans.

She spent a few brief moments mulling over her options, before deciding that she might as well get a head-start on sorting out their costumes. Shallan wasn’t sure how far news of her departure from the troupe had spread, but it was well-known that she was Sarah’s assistant. So long as nobody knew she wasn’t a member anymore, nobody would question the fact that she was looking through their costumes. With that in mind, Shallan headed up the stairs and towards the room they were using for outfit preparation.

She passed a few mildly familiar faces on the way, but nobody objected to her presence, or tried to stop her to chat. Both seemed like good signs. When Shallan arrived, she quickly slipped inside the room, and got to work.