The Shattered City: Chapter Four

[NeoTiamat]

1 Days, 15 Hours, 42 Minutes
The Bergeron Residence, Quartier-Savant, Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything at all? ...thunder, can I get you a glass of water? Something?"

The woman, perhaps improved by Tomas' divine nature, or perhaps by his human concern, actually tried to consider the offer. It seemed incredibly difficult for her. "A razor," she finally replied, hollowly. "Bring me a razor."

Tomas heard the floorboards creak behind him.

Gauvain's hand was set on the door across from this one, as if to push it open, but his attention was fully locked on the woman and Eisenwald. You could hear the grinding of the metal umbrella tines, as le Marquis gripped them with a fist that could crush iron. It was unnatural, to see that much hatred pouring from Gauvain's soulless eyes; unnatural to see his cold, marble face pulled back into a molten snarl. He began to walk towards the woman's room, his long legs moving him faster than his deliberate pace would have suggested.

Down below, the family resemblance between him and the Bergerons had been unmistakable. Up here, with this woman, it was even more pronounced - both sickly, pale, and gaunt, the two looked heartwrenchingly similar. They could have been mother and son.

"What... are... you... doing?" le Marquis demanded, in a very dangerous tone of voice.

[DocBeard]

In his youth, Tomas considered suicide a mad idea that parents created in order to have something to threaten adventurous young people with. 'You'll kill yourself if you go out sailing in that storm, Tomas Eisenwald, mark my words!' and other such nonsense.

Well okay that one actually happened, but Tomas reasons that he got better eventually. Either way; the idea of being alive and wanting to die was utterly alien. While this is less so years in the future, Tomas remains somewhat taken aback by the sheer sincerity of the woman's request.

Thank goodness, a vampire-man has shown up to threaten him. Eisenwald turns, still looking a little alarmed; Gauvain's sheer menace is noted and processed(there are about six ways i can get out of this room alive, but most do not save celeste as well damn.) but there's...something about his manner. Almost more like a child being as angry as it can so no one will notice how its heart has been broken.

Or maybe he's just being a romantic. Regardless, speaking time is now. "I heard weeping." Tomas reasoned, careful to keep his voice deferential so as not to set off an argument with the Marquis. "While looking in the house. I had noticed the people downstairs were not human-no shadows, so I thought I should investigate. I've been trying to figure out how to help this poor woman."

[Kaitou Kage]

Rex tilted his head and stared quizzically at Reine.

"A bone, you say?" he asked quietly, "We are looking for something made of bone. May I see what he gave you?"

[Nathan of the FoS]

Rather baffled, Mercator seats himself on the couch and considers. After a moment, he gets up, goes downstairs, and returns with a piece of bread, which he methodically reduces to crumbs and gives to the birds.

Seating himself again, he considers the rather unprepossessing results of his search. Nothing really recommends itself to him as an object that could conceivably be binding young M. Boucher's mind, although it would be rather amusing, in a macabre way, if it were the coffin.

Shrugging, he stretches himself on the couch and drapes a kerchief over his face. He didn't get much sleep last night, and it's always possible that dreams may reveal something that the waking mind missed.

[yalenusveler]

It was an ungodly hour of the morning when Kerrian made his way back to the Chateau. Potentially having picked up at the very least a stopgap patron, never mind as a group the knowledge potentially needed to save their compatriot, it was time for that most wonderful of escapes. Sleep.

Which was why anyone who returned home in the next few hours would find Kerrian curled up in a chair nowhere near his room, sleeping the sleep of the just.

Or at least the very very tired.

[lostboy]

Nicolas looked down at the sleeping woman with a soft sigh, it hadn't been the most memorable of nights, although that he did actually remember it made it an uncommon occurrence. But then again so did that fact that the woman he had woken up with seemed to be part bird and live in a nest, not that it was by any stretch that unpleasant an awakening, yet something about the cold light of dawn jarred Nicolas senses and for once left him with a clear head.

A clear head that said you have less than a day to locate all the artifacts, she isn't about to blow up the chamber just yet, so why the hell are you hanging around? Luck only lasts so long mon ami.... For once Nicolas had no argument for his subconscious and decided discretion was the better part of valour, and began to softly mutter words of verse in Athene's ear.

"She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent....."

He tails off softly, allowing his words to hang in the air for a moment as he watches her breathing once again become deep and regular. He has a twinge of regret that words were not his own, but then when it all hangs in the balance, one needs tried and tested tools.

Then with every fibre in his being functioning on a knife edge he slowly extricates himself from the bed, grabs his clothes, hastily scrawls a note and heads for the door. Pausing he blows a kiss towards Athene's slumbering form "au revoir ma chere" he says softly closing the door and heading into the quartier and home.





OOC: Casting Lullaby - arcana 16 giving a -2 to perception and insight
Inspire competnace on stealth
Stealth - 24 to get out of there before she notices

[NeoTiamat]

1 Days, 15 Hours, 37 Minutes
The Bergeron Residence, Quartier-Savant, Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"I heard weeping." Tomas reasoned, careful to keep his voice deferential so as not to set off an argument with the Marquis. "While looking in the house. I had noticed the people downstairs were not human-no shadows, so I thought I should investigate. I've been trying to figure out how to help this poor woman."

The anger in Gauvain's eyes faded slightly, leaving hard and unyielding coldness behind, like red hot iron plunged into water. At the very least, he stopped his menacing march toward Eisenwald, and looked a bit less like he intended to drive the silver raven skull of his cane through the Lamordian's neck.

"You can't," le Marquis said bluntly.

Gauvain half turned away and walked to the room across the hallway, still keeping his blank eyes on Tomas at all times. The wicked cane lay gripped in his hand, waiting for the Lamordian make any move at all. With his other hand, he pushed the door open; with one long, near skeletal arm, he took something from on top of a wooden desk. He narrowed his eyes at Tomas, then turned back around on his heel, stalking toward the other man with evident purpose.

It was a flattened, unimpressive lump of some metal, probably lead; Gauvain presented it to Tomas with the frozen, emotionless face that he usually wore.

"Get out," Gauvain said.

1 Days, 10 Hours, 37 Minutes
The Chateau Malchance, Quartier-Marchand, Morning on April 23rd, 770
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Which was why anyone who returned home in the next few hours would find Kerrian curled up in a chair nowhere near his room, sleeping the sleep of the just.

Or at least the very very tired.

Rather baffled, Mercator seats himself on the couch and considers. After a moment, he gets up, goes downstairs, and returns with a piece of bread, which he methodically reduces to crumbs and gives to the birds.

Shrugging, he stretches himself on the couch and drapes a kerchief over his face. He didn't get much sleep last night, and it's always possible that dreams may reveal something that the waking mind missed.

It was in this state that Kerrian and Mercator were found when the other tenants of the Chateau Malchance began to filter back home. Nicolas arrived a little after two in the afternoon, and was followed shortly by Prof. Lessard, Prof. Mournswaithe, and Mr. Agale.

Remy must have gotten some sleep at some point, or else he was keeping himself up by a combination of willpower and caffeine, having prepared a mug of coffee in the Chateau's kitchen the first thing upon arrival. Having woken Kerrian, he proceeded to Thierri's room. Hopefully they'd have better luck finding this component of Inkeri's ritual.

“Find anything?” Lessard said to Mercator's sleeping form, before pausing to examine the bird cage. Despite Mercator's best efforts, the pigeons had seemed utterly uninterested in the bread, which remained at the bottom of their cage. Remy glanced at the locked door, his eyes growing distant for a moment. “Lia, there's a mage lock on the door. Would you be so kind...?”

1 Days, 15 Hours, 37 Minutes
Orphelinat de Mont-Noir, Quartier-Ouvrier, Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"A bone, you say?" he asked quietly, "We are looking for something made of bone. May I see what he gave you?"

Reine gave Rex a long, hard look. It was not a particularly friendly look, with narrowed eyes and more than a hint of a frown on her face, but after a moment Reine just sighed, puffing out her breath. “Alright.”

Leaving the color-changing ball on the floor, Reine went to the bed and searched her hand underneath the mattress for a moment, before withdrawing what looked like a small, brass locket. It was nicely filigreed, however, and looked like the sort of thing that someone with more taste than money would buy. Reine opened it, and inside was an inch-long sliver of bleached, ivory bone.

Reine showed it to Rex, but made no move to give it to him. “There.”

[Nathan of the FoS]

Mercator seems to be blessed with the gift of being alert immediately on awaking; swinging his feet to the floor while taking the kerchief from his face and folding it neatly, he replies, "Good afternoon, Professor." Standing, he glances at the doves, then looks again, interested. "Not hungry?" he murmurs. "Or...h'm. They are certainly bound, aren't they? Curious." Stepping to them, he gives them a closer look.

Arcana 24 on possibly mysterious doves!

"How singular," Mercator says in a rather chilly tone of voice. "They are...how should I say it? Expired doves, actuated by necromancy. Perhaps this is what was indicated, after all."

[DocBeard]

Again, prudence versus instinct. Everything in Tomas says that something must be done, that the day can yet be saved, that he can help. But, can he? The Marquis has no reason to trust or even tolerate him. This is obviously a family concern-what right does he have to make this worse for the man, odious though he may be?

"Alright." Tomas pockets the bullet, carefully standing up, as he is not eager to become the target of Gauvain's frustrations. He really wishes he could've put two and two together with these people...the whole thing is driving him mad. Maybe he'll ask Lia or the Professor about it.

Eisenwald moves down the steps swiftly, calls out, "Celeste, we're leaving.", and heads out the door. She'll make goodbyes enough for them both, and Tomas needs a few seconds of solitude to think.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Before I try to dispel this lock, it might be wise to take some steps to prevent these... creatures... from escaping the cage, and indeed the house," Lia says with a gesture to the undead doves. "Not to mention from attacking us. The undead are all too fond of attacking the living. A sturdy burlap sack or something of the sort seems in order, perhaps...?"

Despite her misgivings, Lia lifts her staff an inch above the ground and swirls it around, creating a circle of red light. "I shall prepare for the ritual, in any case," she says. "It will take a while to perform."

[Nathan of the FoS]

Mercator gives Lia a slightly puzzled look and replies, "They have shown neither the ability nor the inclination to break free of their cage up to the present moment, Mlle. Mourneswaith. I do not think they are more menacing than live doves would be. Please, proceed with your ritual." Returning to the sofa, he seats himself and watches Lia's actions with careful interest.

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian let out a half heard mumble, not quite asleep, yet not quite fully awake. The strangest thing was, that if you paid attention, it sounded suspiciously like "We're going to be hijacking a ghost train."

No, on second listen, that was exactly what it sounded like.

Wiping some sleep from his eyes, Kerrian looked on the bit of locksmithery. "I tried to get into his room once when I wasn't in my body, but either the House wouldn't let me, or there was a pretty strong ward. And...his doves are undead?" He blinked, now fully awake and ready to watch Lia's magical working.

[The Whistler]

Celeste did say goodbyes enough for both her and Tomas--including one unanswered one to the back of Gauvain's coat, and a number of extremely profuse ones to the Not-Bergerons. During the comparing-notes conversation with Tomas on the way back to the Chateau, Mlle. Viardot gave the unstated impression that she had discerned nothing strange about the simulacra until after Eisenwald had summarized his half of the story. Then again, when faced with a conversation with Celeste, most people tended towards quietness, even soulless mockeries of the human form. So there was that.

"We're going to be hijacking a ghost train."

"Delightful!" So delightful as to have its delightfulness proclaimed at maximal volume. If Kerrian hadn't been awake before, he was now.

"We have acquired a mystic sigil," Celeste continued to the room at large, gesturing at the bullet. "...It rather appears to be a bullet. But it is no less significant for that fact!"

"But as to your fertile pronouncement, good M. Mauganson...oh, do expand upon it, sir! For what cause shall we embark upon this mysterious errand? Oh, I shall have to fetch the Zugentführungkleid* from storage..."

-------

*Falko-Lamordian: "Train-hijacking-gown"

[DocBeard]

Tomas occasionally tries to imply that Celeste should be careful, and check her own shadow. Weather this gets through to the girl or not is something of a crap shot, and Eisenwald resolves to ensure his friend is safe for the immediate future.

"...wait, hijacking a what now?!" Tomas exclaims, his eyes widening as he adjusts his hat so he could hear better. "...where did you even get a dress like that?!"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Here," Lia says, pushing a ceremonial rattle into Mercator's hands. "Beat of three. Just keep shaking it until I tell you to stop."

Without waiting for a response, Lia sprinkles a handful of odd, grainy substance on the door indicated. She then uses her staff to draw a circle on the floor, around her feet. Red light glows where the staff leads. Next, Lia draws three concentric circles on the door, placing three runes in the innermost circle: Lagus. Isa. Ansuz.

The Mage takes out her ritual book, turns it to the correct page and reads for a few moments. She then refers to a chart in the back and nods. "Align to the correct position of the stars," she mutters as she shifts the circle just a little. "Correct. Yes. Alright."

Lia starts to chant, her staff raised high so the crimson light from its crystal shines upon the whole room and its occupants, almost seeming to cover all with a thin layer of blood:
"Hear and attend,
Attend and obey.
I stand in the centre,
My Name marks the centre.
The Name is the Thing,
Name and Thing are the same.
The thing is the Essence,
The Essence fills the Thing in all aspects,
The Name is the Thing.
The Essence is the Thing.
The Name is the Essence.

I stand in the centre,
The centre is mine.
From the centre springs the Essence,
The Essence fills the Thing in all aspects.
The Essence has many Faces,
The Faces are the Masks of the Essence,
The Thing is the Mask,
The Essence fills all Masks.
All Masks are the same.
Hear and attend. Attend and obey.

I stand in the centre.
My Name is in the centre.
The Essence wells from the centre.
The Essence bears my name.
My Name bears a Mask.
The Essence bears a Mask.
Our Mask is the Magic.
Magic is our Name.
Hear and attend. Attend and obey.
Magic is our Name.
Magic is the Essence.
The Essence fills the Thing in all aspects.

Hear and attend. Attend and obey.
The Essence fills the Thing in all aspects.
Magic is the Essence.
The Magic bears my Name.
The Essence bears my Name.
The Thing bears my Name.
The Name is the Thing.
The Name is my Name.
By Magic my Will does rule.
My Will rules my Name.
My Will rules the Thing.
By the circles numbered three,
By the Essence that flows from me to thee,
By these words of Power,
Spoken in this Midnight Hour,
I am the Master.

Open unto Me."

Arcane power builds in the room as Lia chants, builds to a crescendo and discharges as she says the last 'Me', all the lines swirling, turning in upon themselves and flowing into the lock.

(OOC: One Arcana check to the tune of 21 to use the Knock ritual to open the door.)