Across History (Cultist Simulator Self Insert)

[Witherbrine26]

I was walking the streets of Vienna, a smile on my lips as I breathed in the cool air. It was Christmas time, and I had talked to my parents and managed to get a day free on the streets of this city.

It was simply beautiful. I didn't understand the intricacies of architecture, but I could find joy in the sheer age of these buildings and how they stood the test of time.

I checked my red hoodie's pocket to ensure my phone was still there. I didn't expect it to be gone, but at this point, it was a habit to run a thumb across the back every few minutes.

I had some money in case I needed it, but I wasn't expecting to buy anything except maybe a cup of hot chocolate. My extended family had pointed out a reasonably good place to buy drinks the other day, and a warm drink was always lovely.

Making up my mind, I started heading towards that cafe. I was forced to double back and check street signs a few more times than I would admit when talking about this later, but I eventually managed to find my way.

Stepping inside, I smiled at how the heat caused my fingertips to tingle as I joined the small line that formed. A few minutes later, I spoke in halting German and, after exchanging some money, had a nice cup of hot chocolate.

I wasn't the best at German but knew enough to get by, even if casual conversation was difficult. Heading back outside, I sat at one of the tables and leaned back in the chair.

Taking a sip of the steaming drink, I coughed slightly. It was hot, and I tended to drink such things too fast. Taking in a breath of cold air, I set the drink down; a minute or two of cold air should have it warm instead of steaming hot.

Sticking my hands in my pockets, I found my gaze trailing over the people in the street when I noticed something. It was a figure dressed in brilliant magenta robes looking around in confusion. He seemed baffled and confused, so I picked up my drink and walked over. There was no reason why I couldn't offer a bit of help, even if he was somewhat weird.

"Hello, can I help you, sir?" I asked in German, to which he blinked up at me, seemingly noticing me only as I spoke to him. "ah, what day is it?" he asked in broken German.

"21st of December," I told him, and it was only at that moment that I noticed his hands, which he had carefully been keeping in his pockets, slipped out and were stained with a red fluid that looked like blood.

As the man snarled to himself and swore in a language I didn't know, French, maybe, I took steps back. I didn't know who he was, but talking to somebody who had blood on their hands was terrible news.

He then looked up at me, slowly backing away, and furrowed his brow in confusion before looking down at his hands. He then sighed, and as I turned around, I heard a strange noise that almost sounded like the fluttering of nascent wings, and everything went black.

I woke up to a dry mouth and a pain across my wrists. Blinking my eyes, I saw the magenta-robed main flipping through a well-worn book as he drew on my now bare chest.

"Please, I didn't do anything," I whimpered as I tried to free my wrists from the rope used to tie my hands to this chair. I didn't know all that much about ropework, but from how I was picking at them and it was working, I assumed he was likely not expecting to be working for long.

As his words in some older language sped up, I caught faint half-remembered words of Latin and sped up, trying to free my hands. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I didn't want to get involved with some cultist.

As his voice peaked and he moved the elegant dagger just above my chest, I managed to free my hands. Stumbling to my feet, heedless of the dagger now drawing blood on my bare chest, I took a swing; while I was no fighter, I had a few inches on him, and so my fist took him in the face.

Stumbling back, he shouted in the earlier language he had sworn in and clenched his nose. I couldn't feel any pain in my chest from the dagger as I reached down and picked it up; lunging forward with it, I buried it in his ribs.

As his blood rushed out, I felt bile climb up my throat. My hands were stained, but the man, while injured, was not dead or incapacitated. He tried to wrestle the knife away from me as he shouted in what I suspected to be Latin.

We fought over the knife for what felt like hours but was likely only a few seconds, slicing up my arms while he was protected by his robes, but I managed to gain the upper hand and slam the dagger in his heart.

Twisting it sideways, bile rose in my throat as his warm lifeblood stained my bare chest, and the room seemed to swim around me. It was only as I pushed myself to my shaky feet and noticed that we were not in Veinna and heard the screams of people seeing the dead body that I realized something might be up with that cultist garb he was wearing.

The next few hours were a blur as the cops soon arrived, and I was hauled away still in a daze. One thing I did remember was throwing up my breakfast on one of the officer's shoes, which he did not like, and beyond the ones needed to haul me into the back of some old-timey car.

I simply lay slumped in the back seat, my arm and chest bandaged with my mind in a fog. I was broken out of it when an older fellow sat across the table I was cuffed to and sighed.

"Greetings," he said, a hint of compassion in his eyes as he removed his somewhat ridiculous hat. I had managed to connect a few of the clues on the drive over and was starting to think that I was no longer in Vienna or in 2022.

"Given that you are the victim, no charges will be pressed," he stated, causing me to look up and blink at him, confused. "I killed him, though?" I asked, my voice raspy, to which he waved his hand as if brushing that aside.

"Self-defense," he stated in a tone that told me the manner had been settled. "Now, do you know anything about the man?" he asked, leading me to close my eyes and think what I could remember about him.

"He seemed confused and spoke in another language, French and Latin, maybe?" I told him, causing him to nod as he scribbled that down in a little notebook. "Anything else?" he asked to which I shook my head no. He sighed in a manner that suggested he suspected such a thing.

"Very well then, you're free to go. I would recommend staying with a friend," he said, unlocking my handcuffs. I kept my mouth shut because mentioning that I was from another country or, even worse, another year was likely to end poorly.

The next few minutes were filled with the paperwork that involved signing me out, and soon enough, I was out on the streets wearing my sweatpants, sneakers, and nothing else.

The weather was cold, and I knew if I tried to stay out at night, I would likely end up dead. However, I didn't know anybody here in what I was coming to suspect was London.

Taking a deep breath of cold air, I closed my eyes; I would try to wander about for a bit and see if I could find a place to stay for the night. I wandered through the darkening streets of London, my fingers growing colder as my eyes and ears grew red, until I nearly ran into a woman closing up what appeared to be a bookstore.

She looked to be in her mid-fifties with her grey hair tied up in a bun. She wore a simple blouse and long skirt, both a drab grey and a pair of well-made glasses perched on her nose.

"Oh, dear," she said, shaking her head as she grabbed my numb hand, "Come inside, and I'll get you something warm to drink," she told me, too cold to argue. I stumbled after her and soon ended up nearly swallowed by a plush seat and drinking warm tea.

"Going by your dress, I assume you don't have anywhere to stay?" she asked as she took a sip from her cup of tea. My slowly warming hands were clasped around my tea.

"Yes," I told her, nearly inhaling the tea as the hot liquid traveled down my throat and into my stomach, where it warmed me from the inside. Smiling, I sank further into the seat as I watched the lady. I didn't think she would try anything, but I had already been attacked once today and bore the wounds to prove it, so I wanted to be safe.

"In light of that, I am willing to offer you a place to stay and some work until you are able to get on your feet," she said, setting down her tea cup with a soft clink as she looked me dead on.

I coughed slightly on my drink in response before thumping my hand on my chest twice to clear any leftover drink. "Why?" I asked, setting my own drink down.

She only smiled softly, "Why should I not help somebody if I am able? Besides, I am getting on in my years and could use some help," she told me, and I eyed her somewhat skeptically.

However, I didn't really have any other choice; I wasn't all that good at manual labor, and trying to get another job in London would likely not pan out well.

In addition, I was known to the cops. While it was unlikely they remembered me all that much about me, given how apathetic they seemed, I didn't want to be caught attempting to steal anything, which is very likely how I would end up if I refused her offer.

"Very well," I said, provoking a smile as she reached out a hand to seal the deal. "Morland," she said as we shook hands, a small smile curling up on her face. "Aidan, it is a pleasure, Ms. Morland," I replied.

"Now, let's get you settled in. You'll need a new shirt, and I do believe I have a few spares," she said, leading me upstairs. The next thirty minutes were spent with her, making sure I had enough clothes and ensuring what was clearly a long unused room was properly cleaned for me to sleep in.

"Now you'll eat with me in the morning. The shop opens at eight, and you'll be manning the counter. If somebody asks for me by name, just ring the bell. You'll close at eight, and then we will have dinner. You'll be paid every Sunday. Do you have any questions?" she rattled off, and when I shook my head, she nodded.

"Wonderful, now get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day." She said before turning around and heading to her own room. Walking back inside my own small room, I closed the door behind me and sat down, dropping my head in my hands.

I was in what I assumed to be London very clearly, at least a hundred years in the past. There was some form of magic, given that the magenta-robed man had managed this entire deal in the first place.

I also had nothing from home except my sweatpants, shoes, and socks, given that the man had stolen my shirt, hoodie, and phone, which also held my money.

I didn't know how deep this magic went, but I needed to get a bit of money before I started poking around, and Ms. Morland was nice enough to give me a place to stay.

Unfortunately, I didn't have anything to jam under the door in this room, and I didn't think heading out to grab something for that purpose would be a good idea. That meant I would have to just sleep lightly so she wouldn't be able to jump me if she planned anything.

Crawling under the covers, I rolled so I faced the door and shut my eyes. I would need to get sleep tonight if I wanted to work well in the morning; however, sleep that night was hard to find.

 

[Qiun]

Don't know much about lore so I don't know the significance of what he did, but it seems interesting

 

[Witherbrine26]

I woke up to a bed far too small for me. I had to carefully reach down beside my bed and scoop up my glasses. This prescription would be near impossible to get currently, and while I was not entirely blind without them, reading would be nigh-impossible, which, given that it was currently my job, would likely leave me thrown out.

Yawning, I put my shirt on and made a mental note that I would need to buy some pajamas and a few more pairs of clothes. The shirt may be slightly itchy compared to my pants, but I would need more than one pair of clothes.

Walking downstairs, I saw Ms. Morland reading a newspaper with two plates of food on the table. She looked up at me and seemed to make a few mental notes before nodding her head at the food.

"You'll need a shave and a trim tonight; head to the barbers a block down and tell him Morland sent you," she said in a tone that brokered no disobeyed so while I had been trying to grow out a proper mustache for almost half a year I nodded my head and sat down.

The food was good even if it was somewhat cold, it had eggs which I was not the biggest fan of, but complaining about food to Ms. Morland, who had taken me in, would be a very assholish thing to do, so I merely ate the food.

"Thank you, that was very good," I said truthfully; while I may have disliked the eggs, the rest of the food was good. "Thank you," Ms. Morland replied as she picked up her plate, with me following along.

We then placed it in what appeared to be a dishwasher, causing me to look at it closely. I had no clue when the dishwasher was invited, but given how the cars were, I would guess the early 1900s, which I thought was before the dishwasher; nonetheless, I would not be complaining.

"Now you have a half hour before you need to open, so I recommend getting familiar with the shelves. You may also read while there are no customers, but when they step inside, I expect to see the book put away," she said in that same no-nonsense tone, and just like before, when I nodded, her expression softened slightly as she patted me on the shoulder and moved passed me.

I then headed to the front of this house/store mix and started poking around the shelves. By the time eight rolled around, I was developing a slight headache but had managed to get a somewhat decent idea of where certain books were, as well as snagging a small book I could read while I waited.

My shift was twelve hours, and I was a fast reader, which meant I would likely need to snag more books, but until then, I would sit on the stool behind the counter and wait for people to come in.

That was how the first few hours passed. I had flipped the sign around to show that Morland's Shop was open, but nobody even gave it a passing look, so I buried myself in the book while still keeping an ear out for somebody else.

I eventually heard the small bell at the entrance tingle and quickly tucked the book under the counter. Walking up to the counter was a towering man with wrought iron muscles that looked like they could easily pop my head off.

"I wish to speak to a Morland," he said, to which I nodded and tapped the bell that rang gently, "Of course, sir, she'll be out soon," I said and looked up at him as she leaned back on his heels and folded his arms.

A few minutes later, Morland left the back rooms and gave me a slight nod, "Come on," she said to the massive man and jerked her head, directing him to follow him back, which he did.

Time then continued to pass, with a few people coming in and asking my help to find a few books, which I did my best to point out. Nobody else asked for Morland, and when I flipped the sign closed and locked the door, I saw Morland leaving a basement.

"I will be cooking dinner; when you get back from the barber, your food will be on the counter," she said, holding out a hand for the key which I placed in her hand. "Understood, Ms. Morland," I said, giving her a polite nod before heading out.

Thankfully, her directions were simple, and I found the barber in the middle of cutting a customer's hair. "One moment, sir!" the very thin and immaculately groomed man said as he made a few more cuts.

I sat down in one of the few chairs, and around twenty minutes later, money exchanged hands as the man in the chair left, seemingly content with his haircut.

"How can I help you, sir," the man said with a hard-to-place accent; however, I pushed that out of my mind. "I need a trim and shave, Ms. Morland sent me," I told him, feeling somewhat sheepish about not having money.

The man then laughed as he gestured for me to sit down, "Ah, Madame Morland, how is she doing," he asked as he got to work. I didn't quite like how close the sharp blades were getting to my face, but they wouldn't have all the implements I knew from the future here, so I pushed aside my discomfort.

"She is doing wonderful; took me in and offered me a job," I said truthfully. I may have a few suspicions about why she took me in, but that didn't mean I would voice them, especially not to a friend of hers.

"Ah, of course, she has always had an eye for talent," the man said, and after that was silence and the sound of a blade moving across my skin and a pair of scissors cutting.

Thankfully, the main was skilled, and my long hair was trimmed slightly with my mustache shorne off soon after. "Thank you, sir," I said to the man as he showed me my face in a mirror.

However, as I went to leave, he pressed a lock of hair into my hand. "A good luck charm; put it under your pillow," he said, to which I blinked before tucking it away.

"Of course, I need all the luck I can get," I told him, causing him to laugh and pat me on the back. "Don't we all," he said as I left. I didn't know this costume, and while it niggled at the back of my mind, I decided to do it.

There was no harm in it, and if magic was real here, then there was a chance this good luck charm was real. Walking the street over to Morland's Shop, I entered an empty main flow with a small meal sitting on the counter as she had promised.

I ate it quickly and placed the dish in the dishwasher before heading upstairs. It was only eight, but getting a full ten hours of sleep would help, so I got undressed down to my underwear before tucking the hair under my pillow. Laying down, I was fast asleep almost immediately.

That night, I dreamed a strange dream. I rooted in the soil of a deep and black woods. I was searching for something, but fat moths kept crawling out of my ears and down my throat as if to block my sight.

I coughed, and my hands kept digging until they were raw, and I shed my skin to dig anew as my old skin melted into newborn moths that fluttered off, and I seized the scrap of bark.

Reading the words on the bark, I saw and understood. I stood upright as I remembered fire and civilization. The moths fled my orifices as my hands were raw and red, and I awoke.

I shot up in my bed with my head swimming and coughing. Stumbling out of my bed, I looked around with blurry eyes. I didn't remember most of that dream, but I thought for the briefest moments I could see strings at the ends of my fingers and coiled around my limbs and faint readings about a loom that braided hair.

However, that memory faded like all dreams do, and I dropped back into my bed. I didn't know what the hell that was, but I was starting to guess; I didn't want to voice my thoughts because they sounded crazy. However, tomorrow morning, I will look around the shop for a few books on the occult, and if I am correct, I will find something.

Taking a deep breath, I laid back down and threw the cover over me. However, before I went back to bed, I reached under my pillow for my lock of hair and found it empty. Frowning, I fluffed my pillow and closed my eyes before drifting off.

Thankfully, I woke up what felt like a few minutes later with nothing waking me up but the sun rising outside the window. It was likely closer to six. I didn't know how to read time by the sun, but I could make a guess.

Getting dressed and ready for the day, I headed downstairs, seeing Morland like the day before, reading a paper and drinking tea from a cup. She looked up at me and hummed before returning to the paper.

I quickly ate the meal she had made, placing the dirty plate and silverware in the dishwasher. "Thank you, Ms. Morland," I said, receiving another hum as I walked past her.

Checking the clock as I entered the shop proper, I saw that it was nearing half past seven, which meant I had more time to peruse the shelves. Doing just that, I familiarized myself with where the books were, along with searching for perhaps other more occult books.

After a mere twenty minutes of perusing the shelves, I found a small book tucked away. It was plain, and the title was plain as well. Travelling at Night(Vol. 1) read the cover, but it caused my hands to shake.

Holding it in my hand, I nabbed another book to read; this one, however, was not of the occult variety. I didn't want to be seen reading Travelling by Night during work, so I tucked it under the desk before flipping the sign to open.

I would have liked to say the day passed quickly; however, it didn't. I was always bad at standing around, and while I had a chair to sit on and no clocks to stare out, it did seem like the hours dragged on.

Thankfully, while people did trickle in from time to time, there was nobody who wished to speak to Morland directly, and soon enough, I was closing and locking the door.

I then joined Morland for dinner after ensuring I had snuck Travelling by Night back to my room under the guise of removing my shoes, which was true but not the whole thing, and while I didn't like it, if what I suspected was true then my days staying here in this shop were likely numbered.

We were soon sitting down for dinner, and I ate it with the gratefulness of somebody receiving this for free. "Thank you, this is wonderful once again," I tell her, to which Ms. Morland smiles in that small way. I was coming to understand just how she smiled.

"Thank you. It is always good to have one's food appreciated," she said as we both stood up and cleaned the dishes. It was approaching nine, which gave me an hour to read the book I had smuggled upstairs, which, given its size, meant I should be able to do so easily.

Settling in my bed a few minutes later, I jammed the pillow where my back met my neck and cracked open the book. The first words I read caused my throat to tighten.

The Wood lies outside the walls of the Mansus. As any student of Histories knows, the Mansus has no walls. That was what was on the inside of the cover, and it set my heart thumping.

Flipping through the small book, it was easy to tell that it was less a proper book and more a collection of notes that had been gone over and annotated later.

However, it truly proved to me where I was, London 1920, in one of the five Histories. This was very bad; while from the comfort of home, I was fascinated by the lore and adored the game, the world itself was deadly.

This was not helped by the fact that I knew enough to immediately get my feet wet while not knowing enough to have all that many cheat codes. I knew, for example, about things like the Frangiclave or Teresa Galmier, but that knowledge didn't translate out of the game very well.

However, I didn't really have any recourse, but to keep moving forward, I wanted to head home someday, so I needed to climb the House of the Sun, and what better way to start than learning the basics of Moth?

I flipped the book open and started to read through it once again, this time keeping an eye open for the more Moth-touched phrases and passages.

It was hard because while Christopher Illopoly may be known as the only readable occultist, his dream journals were interspersed with ramblings and a fair few poems about The Baldomerian, who I knew to be Teresa Galmier, his lover and Name, and holder of perhaps the best romance in the world of Cultist Simulator.

Thankfully, I did manage to find the scrap that contained the usable information and slipped out of my bed. Creeping into the small bathroom in the hall, I retrieved the small pair of scissors I had found this morning and cut off a tiny bit of my hair.

Returning to my room after tucking the scissors away, I placed the book on the floor next to my bed with my glasses perched atop it. Tucking the hair under my pillow, I lay back under the covers and closed my eyes.

Christopher had described trying to dream your way into the Mansus as trying to think your way to love, but his notes provided a way to do just that; the trick was simply not to think.

Bury a lock of freshly cut hair under your pillow and let your thoughts flit about through your mind, and when you drift off, your mind will come to dwell outside the House of the Sun.

I awoke within the Woods, a smile on my lips; I was dreaming and was officially one of the Know even if I knew much much more. I moved through the trees, ducking low almost on all fours to avoid the birch-like branches from scrapping me up too bad.

I wandered through the Woods before stumbling across a massive rock which I knew of. It was the Temple of the Wheel the Hour that the Moth usupred from within and stole its skin. Walking closer, I could see that massive and jagged rock that served as a memorial for dead gods in much clearer light.

Walking around, it placed a hand on its cracked and weathered surface allowing them to split like wounds I stepped through. Standing inside this memorial with what I knew, I could hear the faint beating of a Heart before I awoke.

I shot up in bed, my heart in my chest moving a smidge bit faster as the door to my room opened slightly. Hopping out of bed with a smile on my face, I attempted to close my door to no avail.

I had explored the Woods without being devoured by the spirits that dwelled within or even gaining the attention of the Velvet, who no doubt would take notice of my many secrets.

However, my energy and the door in front of me refusing to close all the way showed that I had managed to pick up the base influences, and while I didn't remember their names, it proved I could successfully move forward.

With a smile on my lips, I headed downstairs with a faint pop in my step before almost tripping over my unlaced shoes. Knowing it would be futile to tie them before the influence faded, I kept moving, ready to start my third day in this world, just a bit more ready to face the world.

 

[Qiun]

Why did he sound like the miss is gonna eat him? So he become cultist, let's hope he don't get murder happy

 

[Witherbrine26]

Walking downstairs, I noticed that while breakfast was set out, Ms. Morland was absent. There wasn't anything I could do about that, so I quickly ate the food before washing the plate and silverware.

I then headed into the shop proper and checked the time. It was seven, meaning I had an entire hour to search for books in this place. I then did exactly that and spent almost all my time before I opened the shop searching for occult books.

I also made sure to tuck Travelling at Night back as while I doubted I put it back in the same place, having it not missing would prevent Ms. Morland from being suspicious that I read it and thinking that I merely moved it.

It was as I was looking through the shop I realized why it took so much time in the game; Morland had no sorting system I could decipher beyond a vague grouping, which, aside from making my job much more challenging, also made it near impossible to find the books I was looking for.

That was also not helped by the fact I didn't even know the exact books I was looking for. I knew that her shop should have a book on the basics of Lantern and Heart, two of the basics I would need to keep me mostly safe.

Lantern would allow me to ascend further into the House of the Sun and learn quickly, while Heart would keep me alive. Edge was also an option, but from what I remember, Edge was found on expeditions and the auction house, neither of which I could access.

So I kept searching, and just a few minutes before I would have to give up my search, I stumbled across The Locksmith's Dream, which was the series I needed. However, the book itself was called Portions and Proportions, and a quick skim through the first dozen pages revealed it to be Knock and not Lantern.

Tucking it under my arm, I quickly headed back towards the desk and put the book under the counter. I then flipped the sign and readied myself for another day of work; thankfully, by now, the Influence had faded enough to be unnoticeable.

The day chugged along in a manner that I suspected would be familiar, given a few more days. A handful of people trickled in and searched for mundane books, and when I could only point them in a vague direction, they left.

However, a few stayed and would emerge anywhere from a few minutes to over an hour later, holding a book in hand. They would then pay a fairly large sum of money for the book and leave happy. It seemed to work well for Morland as well as for me, given that while they were searching, I could read.

The book I had nabbed was Teresa's second work and was filled with musings and speculation, with a handful of dreams recorded. However, what was invaluable was the seven words recorded at the end.

Teresa admitted they were a crutch, and anybody who knew the Princpels well enough would be able to bypass saying the words about how they would serve until you learned further.

I cleared my throat and very carefully read them out loud, and when nothing happened, I frowned. It was then I was cut off by the bell ringing and had to return to helping customers.

I was unfortunately pulled away from my book for nearly an hour as a well-dressed man talked about what he wanted in exacting detail, and while I managed to find it for him, he was an ass which was annoying.

Thankfully, when he left, nobody else had come in while I was helping him, meaning I could return to the book. Flipping it open to the back once again, I very carefully and, over the course of a minute, spoke the seven words.

When I finished, I felt a bump against my rib and saw that the drawer next to me had opened. Closing it, I kept an eye on it as I recited the words again, and just as before, it opened.

I bit down on my tongue to restrain myself from cheering; last night, I may have proved that I was in this world I knew, but that was undercut by the dread of knowing the setting. This was magic; I had spoken seven words and opened a drawer.

I then continued practicing as hours flew by. My habit of butchering words that I had only read when I tried to speak both helped and hurt me. The words themself were not important so messing them up as I channeled the feeling would help in the long term and prevent any bad habits but in the short term, it would hinder any attempt at quick spellcasting. Thankfully, with this being the most basic of tricks, by the end of the day, I could open a nearby gently closed thing if given a dozen seconds and no stress.

Nothing major and not something I would likely use, but it was the very first step as well as allowing me to hopefully soon access the House of the Sun proper.

I didn't want to go trawling around in the Woods, given that Velvet made her home there. The secrets I held in my skull would likely see it split open and pulled out; me knowing things like where the Worms came from and that the Wheel still turned was a partial death sentence in certain cases.

Closing up shop, I returned to the small back section to see Ms. Morland waiting as she had yesterday hand outstretched for the keys. "Everything well?" she asked as I plopped them in her hand. "Yes, no issues today," I told her, provoking a hum in response as we both sat down at the table.

Tonight was a simple fare, a pork sandwich that had been lightly toasted on each side. It was delicious, and while even back home I had skipped a meal, I was very hungry tonight. Eating it as quickly as I could while still being polite, Ms. Morland and I had small talk.

I avoided any mention of the occult as while she was very likely to be involved in it, I didn't want to force her hand, so I simply spent the time talking about the people I served and the non-occult book I read, which was Sherlock Holmes.

I did enjoy those works ever since a few years ago when during a summer camp I had forgotten to bring enough books and so had borrowed a fellow campers collection of Sherlock Holmes stories and read them obsuisvly over the course of the two weeks.

Soon enough, we were both done and had cleaned up. She then placed a handful of coins in my hand. "Your first few day's wage, you'll get a full week's payment next week," she said before heading up the steps.

Very carefully, making sure not to spill a coin, I tucked the money away and headed back up to my room. Laying the coins out on the bed, I wracked my head to remember what the signage system was called.

Pounds, Shillings, and Pence, from what I remember. The coins I was going to assume were Shillings given that they are more silver; however, that was only a guess.

Nonetheless, having my own money was good, even if I didn't know how far a single Shilling would go. However, I didn't pay for anything currently, which meant I could save my money for when I needed it, like some new clothes,

I then very carefully removed my shirt and pants, leaving me in my underwear before climbing under the covers and rolling on my side to face the door. I then quickly drifted off into a deep and dreamless slumber.

I woke up once again and slid out of bed before heading into the bathroom. A quick shower, and I was ready for the day. Heading downstairs, I saw Ms. Morland reading the paper as she normally did while drinking tea.

I quickly ate before cleaning off my dishes and thanking her for breakfast. I then headed into the shop and returned The Locksmith's Dream back to its old spot as I searched around for another book.

I did manage to find one, but I couldn't even read the title or any of the words inside. However, based on a few things I faintly remembered, I guessed this book to be written in Latin, which only reaffirmed my desire to learn Lantern.

Learning a language could take years, and I was no polymath, meaning it would take months for me to learn even the basics. However, I speculated that Lantern's aspect of learning and knowing would allow me to bypass languages in the act of learning.

I did have to open shop at this point, which meant instead of progressing further in the Invisible Arts, I spent most of my days reading Sherlock Holmes and helping customers.

Unforantly, I was interrupted near the end of one of the cases by a fairly unpleasant shock. The same officer who had interrogated me was stepping inside the shop, a small frown on his face.

I quickly made sure everything was hidden before turning to face him. I hadn't noticed that day when he had talked to him due to my shock and my slumping, but I had almost half a foot on him, which I chalked up to time differences.

"How can I help you today, sir?" I asked, giving him a polite nod that he didn't bother to return as he looked around. "I'm looking for a fellow to talk to; he is tall and bald and has skin that is dark like coal," he replied in an even tone that had my heart pounding harder.

He was likely talking about the man who asked for Morland a few days ago, and given what I knew now, he was also likely a Forge disciple. However, I couldn't do anything except talk to this man and not get the possible occultist in enough trouble that he tracked me down.

"I think I do remember him," I said slowly, like I was dredging memories up. I was no expert liar, but as long as this man didn't know my tells, I should be able to get by.

The man merely nodded as I said that and pulled out a small pad of paper he started writing on. "I don't remember what he did; he simply looked around for a book and then left," I told him, giving him a helpless shrug even as I had to resist the urge to rub my chest as my heart pounded.

The man hummed low and deep in his throat before giving me a small nod and tucking his notebook away. "Thank you for that information," he said before turning around and leaving Morland's Shop.

I slumped back against the wall, my heart pounding in my chest. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice me, which was good, given that getting on the Suppression Bureau's bad side was a good way to end up in a cell for the rest of my life, and I didn't have any method to escape beyond running which would not get me far.

The rest of the day passed by like normal, and soon enough, I was eating dinner with Ms. Morland. We made small talk like usual, except she stopped when I mentioned the officer.

"He came in and asked about that man you talked to the other day," I told her, and when she raised an eyebrow, I rushed to explain, "I just said he looked for a book before leaving," I said, causing her to hum as she set down her knife and fork to pat me on the shoulder.

"Thank you, Aidan, that was good of you," she said before returning to her meal. Meanwhile, I was mentally wiping my forehead. I didn't want to get in trouble with my boss as that way lay poverty and dying on the streets, not even accounting for all the occult ways to die.

Soon, we both finished and, like normal, went our separate ways. Unfortunately, I didn't have any books to read before or study, and I didn't want to go rummaging around her shop this late, so I headed upstairs and, after getting undressed like normal, slipped under the covers, ready to sleep and have normal dreams.

I awoke in the Woods to my shock and almost immediately saw something step forth from the brush. I didn't know what it was, but I turned and bolted the branches from the tree scraping against my face and drawing thin red lines as blood welled up and dropped to the forest floor.

My bare feet slipped in the muck, and I barely caught myself as I looked up in search of Glory and found nothing. I didn't want to be caught by whatever that creature was, and while I could hear its wings beating, it seemed like it couldn't just swoop down and grab me.

Words slipped from my lips as I fumbled through the seven phrases. I needed a way out, and Knock might be able to provide it. Skidding to a stop, my eyes darted wildly about as more and more wing beats filled the air.

I reached down and grabbed a small rock from under the roots of a tree. My heart was pounding, but with great effort, I slowed my speech and spoke as I used the sharp rock to slash a Wound in the palm of my hand; I then tore a tuff of hair from my head and mixed the blood and hair.

The wounds on my face opened as well as I thought on the House of the Sun and how I had opened a door to leave. A wound was an open door, and I had just opened it with sacrifice and blood and change. I stood there, my heart pounding as blood pumped out of my hand, chest, and face as I prayed with seven words over and over as creatures kept a faint distance but with beady eyes locked on me.

I awoke with a bloody wound carved into my hand, and I knew that this wound would not heal. Perhaps in a few months, it would close somewhat, or I could scar it over with Edge lessons, but I had spilt blood and freshly shorn hair in the Woods.

That sort of expression had power, and while it had allowed me to escape with my mind untouched from what I suspected was a minor creature of the Velvet, it had also marked me with Knock; this wound would serve as a tool to channel Knock, but at the same time, it was a wound and would impede me.

Clambering out of bed, I shuffled into the bathroom, holding my left hand to my chest before fumbling around and managing to find a bandage. Wrapping it tight around my hand, I made sure that it wouldn't come loose before heading back to my room.

While I could use the sleep sitting down in my bed, I knew that sleep would not come that night, and as I stayed lying down in my bed, eyes wide open, and sleepness not clouding my mind, I was proven right, I didn't get a wink of sleep that night.

 

[Witherbrine26]

Hours later, I got up and decided I would need to talk to Ms. Morland; I doubted I could hide this wound from her, and even if I could, the Knock of it was making keeping the bandage tied tight difficult.

Getting dressed with only a single hand was a pain, but I managed and decided to skip a shower today. My hair might be a bit of a mess if I skipped a day, but it was not going to be a major issue unless I started skipping multiple days at a time.

Walking down the stairs, I soon stepped into the kitchen and gave Ms. Morland an awkward wave with my wounded hand. She merely sighed and stood up before walking over and unwrapping it.

"A Knock wound?" she asked, and I froze as she clicked her tongue. "Do you think I didn't know what you were doing, Aidan?" she asked as she tightened the bandage.

"I took you in because you are soaked in Secret History and would likely end up in a cell or on a plate if I didn't help you. We'll need a Heart infused bandage for that," she stated matter of fact before turning and leaving the kitchen.

I staggered to the side and leaned against the breathing heavily. I suspected something was up with how I had stumbled on her, but I was hoping she was not involved in the occult as even the more benign-looking Principles are nasty under the hood.

She returned with a roll of bandages that looked faintly red; she then unwrapped my hand and slowly walked me through the steps on how to wrap it so that the bleeding would not impede my work.

"That wound is going to take two weeks at least to heal, so until then, keep that bandage on and use that hand minimally," she said before returning to her breakfast.

I sat down across from her and slowly picked my way through breakfast as I thought of what to ask her. "Why did you save me?" I finally decided to ask, causing her to hum as she ate her own food.

"Empathy, why else?" She said as she looked up at me with her eyes seeming to shine a faint gold behind her glasses, "I may be retired, but people like you once in a century event, and I would be remiss in allowing you to end up like many other of the Know," she stated resulting in me swallowing before taking another bite of food.

"I see, so you don't have any plans to sacrifice me?" I asked, somewhat hesitant, only to receive a barking laugh from the normally reserved woman. "If I wanted to sacrifice you, I would have done so already, but no, I just need help in the shop and saw a chance to do some good," she replies, and for a moment, you can see the weight of something in her eyes before her eyes glance off to the side and she takes a sip of her tea.

"Anyway, I'll be leaving you alone for the most part. If you do need something, ask me, but I am retired, so physical support will be minimal at best," she continued before her eyes flicked up to the clock, and she stood up.

"Now, I would recommend getting ready as it is ten to eight," she said before sweeping out of the room and leaving me scrambling. With my cut hand, cleaning the dishes was hard, but I managed to open the shop just as the clock hit eight.

The day passed by like normal, except for a few comments on my bandaged hand. Thankfully, a pained laugh and a few words about clumsiness had most of them off my trail.

Unfortunately, the Forge adept was back today, and instead of asking for Ms. Morland like last time, he looked down at me, his eyes looking at my hand. He gave a small grunt before speaking a single word. "Morland," then he leaned back.

Ringing the bell like I did before, Ms. Morland took him to the back and below. The rest of the day thankfully passed without any issues, and I handed Ms. Morland the key at the end of the day.

"Now, you'll need some aid to prevent the Velvet from taking your secrets when you sleep." She stated as he both ate dinner, "Thankfully, you have done part of the work; tonight, as you sleep, focus on that wound and how you wish to not enter the Wood,"

"I see; what will that do?" I asked hesitantly. She may not want to kill me, but she was still an occultist, even if a self-proclaimed retired one. "It will allow you to pass to the White Door, where you will be safe from the Velvet; of course, that is no guarantee the only way to be safe is to travel closer to the Glory," she answered, which brought to mind something.

The Glory was a question, and the Moth always answered yes, while the Velvet answered no. So it made sense that the closer I climbed to the Glory, the safer I would be from the Velvet.

"That makes sense," I said before polishing off the last bite and gingerly picking up my plate and cutlery. "Thank you for dinner; it was good, like always." I told her, to which she smiled, "Thank you, I try,"

We both then placed the dishes in the dishwasher, I stayed behind to clean it while she went to her room. As I cranked the handle I thought, it seemed that while she was willing to offer advice and tips, she would not be holding my hand, which, while somewhat annoying, made sense; if she was retired, then helping a new adept could be seen coming out of that, and anybody in the Know would likely make enemies over the years.

This time, I would be staying dressed as last time I was forced to run through the Wood nearly naked, and I didn't want to do that. Sliding under my covers, I held my hand to my chest, still bandaged and bleeding small drops into the Heart-infused cloth.

Letting my thoughts dwell on the White Door, I closed my eyes and attempted to fall asleep. Of course, when you wanted to sleep, you never could, which led to me laying on my bed for what felt like hours before falling asleep.

I awoke in the House of the Sun like I had before, except instead of in the muck and darkness of the Wood, I was standing outside a door with the Glory shining down above me.

Looking up at the brilliant light, it felt like my breath was stolen away, and I knew that I would never forget this. The Glory was brilliant, and even as it burned my eyes, it was hard to tear my gaze away.

However, I did, and in the dream world that was the Mansus, it dealt no damage beyond discomfort. I then stepped through the door ahead of me and felt my mouth freeze over like a lake in winter.

I had entered into a massive maze that seemed to have a constant coldness permeating it. I didn't have anything to really look for here. I did know Teresa lived somewhere nearby, but I didn't think talking to her would be a good idea yet, not without any way to cover up my secrets.

However, I was loath to waste this time, so I put one foot in front of the other and wandered around this labyrinth. It was strange normally while my mind would be spinning as I thought about how to use my time here, but I was content to merely walk about and see if I could find the Sage Lodge or what is the Knight Lodge? It was so hard to think in this place.

Shaking my head, I wandered the labyrinth for hours before I slowly faded away and woke up in my bed, having found nothing and accomplished nothing.

My mind was slow as I stumbled out of my bed, with the wound on my hand throbbing with a faint pain. I didn't like that place. It made me slow and stupid, but I needed to explore it to climb higher.

Rubbing my wound, I headed into the bathroom before getting cleaned up. I had to be cautious around my wound, but I managed to clean myself with only a bit of burning pain from soap in the wound.

Eating breakfast with Ms. Morland, I soon headed into the shop and began searching for another book. This time, I was searching for Winter; it was clear that thinking beyond the White Door was hard, and doing anything meaningful was harder. However, back when this had all been something to read, Winter had been one of my least favorite Principle, meaning I had very little to go off of.

Things like Edge or Heart, I could jury rig because I had thought about them and even mixed them into my own writings back home, but Winter and, to an extent, Grail, I didn't know that much about beyond the basics.

Thankfully, I did manage to find the second volume of Travelling by Night, which I quickly flipped through. It mentioned the Sun-in-Rags by name and was, therefore, very likely to hold information on Winter.

I did, however, have a job, so I unlocked the door and flipped the sign around, ready for another day of work. This day was thankfully normal, with the normal crowd of vapid people wanting to find books and no true occultists.

This let me read the book, and it was interesting. I already knew how to pass the White Door, which was what most of the book was concerned with, but Elagabalus, the emperor whom Christopher was examining, seemed to have a method to pass without growing dull or at least not dull enough to forget his purpose.

It was described as a silence of sorts, a method of clearing your thoughts so that you could think. I leaned back and gritted my teeth; this is why I didn't think of Winter much. It didn't make all that much sense, and while it sounded neat, I couldn't wrap my head around a sound but was s but I would need it to climb higher, so I returned to the book.

The rest of the day passed by, and soon I was back in my room, the lights off and ready to dream. I was focused once again on the faintly throbbing wound on my hand as I drifted off.

Thankfully, I was in front of the White Door once again. This time, however, I hummed deep and low in my throat before cutting it off. I then did my best to keep that low sound in my throat as I stepped past the threshold.

My mind trembled, and I stumbled; I, for the faintest moment, felt the urge to open a Door across my wrists so I could join this peaceful place of Winter. I then stood up and attempted to bite my thumb to break away from those thoughts, but it just hit my face sans any mouth like before.

Doing my best to push aside any such thoughts, I searched for the next door that would lead me higher. I disliked this place as much as I could while trapped in its numbing effect.

However, as I walked the halls of this place, I was swarmed by the dead. They could do little as my warmth burned them, but the same sound that kept me thinking properly dimmed such warmth, and so I was forced to balance it to prevent myself from being devoured or losing myself for another night.

It seemed like my search wasn't to be as I was unable to move more than a dozen feet before another handful of dead attempted to consume me. I then woke after the dozenth attempt.

Waking up, I could feel my thoughts rush as I stood up. Clenching my mouth shut, I felt bile crawl up and burn my throat. Stumbling into the bathroom, I was forced to swallow the vomit to prevent it from spilling out of my mouth and onto the floor.

I then dropped to my knees and spewed out last night's dinner in the toilet. Breathing heavily, I dry heaved a few more times before leaning forward my chest against the toilet.

While I was there and calling upon Winter, I could think and move, but I was still dulled, so their frantic attempts to tear me apart did very little since my being alive burnt them as they were so touched by Winter.

That did little to shake the horror of seeing people like me distorted into things like that near mindless and scrabbling for anything that could help them. Standing up, I returned to my room. My decision to climb towards the Glory was reaffirmed with a new haste: I would not become another of the voiceless dead; I would find my way home, I promised myself.

 

[SomethingElse]

You don't know how long I've been craving something like this. Keep it up!

 

[blankmask]

Foundations first. Get some heart in you, that'll help. And maybe some lantern.

 

[tsuki mugiwara]

every cultist fic is a blessing of the Glory, thanks for writing.

 

[Witherbrine26]

Swallowing a bit of burning spit, I stood up and wiped my mouth. Peaking outside the window, I noticed that it was morning and the sun was steadily rising, which meant it was time to get ready for the day.

Climbing in the shower, I got ready for the day like normal before heading downstairs. If Ms. Morland noticed my slightly haggard state, she didn't mention anything, and we ate in comfortable silence.

After cleaning up, I returned to the shop so I could open it like usual. However, I checked around for a book I could read during my work hours; while I genuinely enjoyed the occult texts I had found today, I wanted something less headache-inducing, so I grabbed another copy of Sherlock Homles.

I returned to the front and cracked the book open until the clock struck eight, which was when I opened the shop. I was thankful that this day passed by like normal with no adepts or cops looking around, and I could relax and just do my job.

I then closed like normal before eating dinner and heading to bed. This time, I focused and tried not to enter the Mansus. I just needed a regular night tonight; however, my wish was not granted as I drifted off.

Waking up in the Woods, I swore and spat in tongues unfamiliar to this land of instinct and passion. I crept low and to the ground, keeping my mind still and cold as while I disliked the numbness of Winter, I liked my secrets more. This night was peaceful as a night in the Wood could be, and I woke up unmolested by the Velvet's servants or any of the other spirits that dwelled on the outskirts of the House of the Sun.

Waking up, I patted myself down and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Sliding out of bed, I got ready as I thought over last night. It was clear that trying not to enter the Mansus would fail, as while you normally needed to try and enter so far every day, I had entered once I had opened the door.

I didn't know if that was because I was not from this History, but nonetheless, it meant I needed to find a method to control this, which either meant Knock or Secret Histories, and given how I had gotten here, I was going to assume Secret Histories,

Getting ready for the day like normal after I finished breakfast, I rummaged through the shop for a book on Secret Histories. I wanted to start with something simple but needed to get proper sleep, so I kept looking.

I thankfully managed to find the aptly named An Introduction to Histories, which I tucked under my arm before opening the shop. The day passed with me helping the people who entered while reading the book between such tasks.

This book was a relatively simple introduction to the Histories, much of which I knew. I was about to close the book, annoyed that I had spent a good chunk of my day on it, when I noticed something.

I didn't know what urge drew me to do so, but I dog-eared that page and closed the shop like normal. We both ate dinner, making small talk as we had done the nights before. As we finished eating, I cleaned up the table before heading upstairs and into my room, An Introduction to Histories, tucked under my arm.

Settling under the covers, I cracked it open and flipped to the page I had dog-eared. I had gotten a strange feeling from it, and while I didn't quite know why, I still wanted to take a read.

The page was the same as before, nearing the end of the book as Claude Hersault lays out his evidence for why he believes the Second History to be the real one. I knew from my outsider knowledge that no history was strictly true as that was how they were Histories and not merely history, but something about this page drew me in.

Flipping the page over, I noticed a slight off-coloring at the back of the page. This page was at the end of the book, so behind it was the back cover. Looking closely, I scraped the slightly yellow bit with a nail and noticed how it flaked away; this felt important, so I kept scratching away.

Soon enough, I had a single line that had been written in a much different handwriting than the rest of the book. It said, "Seek the Centipede where the skin of the world is thin." Sticking my thumb where the page and back of the book met, I started thinking.

The Centipede was an Hour, also known as the Vagabond; I knew that one of her principles was Secret Histories and what I think was Moth, but I wasn't too sure about the second one. However, having something like this in a book about the Histories very clearly meant something.

The skin of the world being thin likely meant Vienna and that one town. I wasn't sure what it was called except that it started with a K. I knew the second one was how the player ascended from Long to Name in the Forge Ascension, detonating a magical nuke there, but it was frustrating I could not remember the name.

I didn't know why this book would want the readers to seek the Vagabond because, from what I remember, while she had traveled everywhere, she was also very vengeful and had killed her home city when she ascended.

Turning that over in my mind, I eventually decided to push it aside; I didn't know what that meant, so I would ignore it for now and focus on the basics, which meant Lantern and Heart.

Flicking the lights off, I removed my glasses and shirt before going under the covers. As I closed my eyes, I held my Knock wound and focused on the White Door; I didn't want to end up in the Woods tonight, so spending some time searching past the White Door would be much better.

A awoke once again in front of the ivory gate. Tonight, it gleamed a chilling white, and my eyes were drawn to that like sunlight on fresh snow. When I breathed out, nothing escaped my mouth despite how cold the air around me felt, and I woke up with a faint headache.

Sitting up in bed, I could feel my skin crawling with goosebumps, and I shivered. Quickly heading out of my room, I stepped in the shower and turned it on full heat.

The steam that rose from the room did little to melt the faint ice that grew on the mirror's glass, and the hot water, while helpful, did nothing to soothe my faint headache.

Stepping out of the shower, I toweled off, needing to break a few ice shards that had grown before firmly toweling off my head so that the water wouldn't freeze inside my hair, only to melt later. I could tell this was going to be annoying.

Heading downstairs, I saw that Ms. Morland had set out breakfast, but when she saw me, she sighed. "You went exploring last night, didn't you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, to which I sheepishly rubbed the back of my neck. "Not really, this cold seems to have followed me back," I replied, somewhat embarrassed even if my voice was flat and somewhat dead.

"Well, I suppose I can teach you a little trick," she said, standing up from the table and gently placing her napkin beside her plate. She then headed over to the corner of the room, where she started some device that I didn't recognize.

Music started to flow from it, a rhythmic and frantic beat as she captured her hands in mine before spinning me around the room. "What are we doing?" I asked as she danced around her small kitchen, my heartbeat speeding up. "I'm teaching you," she said as a smile grew on her face as her feet played a staccato beat on the floor that I soon joined in.

As we sped up, my heart started beating faster and faster just from the exertion of the simple dance. "Listen to the beat!" Ms. Morland said, a slight smile on her own face as he spun me around, her feet slamming in time with the beat of my heart.

As I moved, that organ in my chest started moving louder and harder until it felt like I was hearing thunder in my ears. The song began to wind down, and so we followed its beat, and soon, the two of us, translocated aspirant and retired occultist, were smiling at each other and just basking in the enjoyment of a lovely dance.

"That is a bit of Heart," Ms. Morland told me as she sipped water before passing me a glass. "Just the bare basics; it should guard you against the simple effects of Winter," she continued explaining before setting her glass down.

"Now get to work; it's almost eight," she told me, her face settling back into the usual stern expression. I then looked up at the clock on the wall and scrambled to the counter, absently noticing that my hair was back to normal without any frost in it.

Settling behind the counter like I usually did, I helped the few customers who arrived looking for normal books; my Knock-Wound was annoying to deal with since I had to replace the bandage every so often since it refused to close, meaning it bled very slowly but enough to be noticeable if I didn't hide it.

Looking around, I saw that nobody was in the shop then, so I reached under the counter, pulling out a small box. I had noticed it when I had settled behind the counter and pulled it open, revealing bandages.

I was no expert, but after a few tries, I managed to get a simple tight tie around my hand. However, I felt it thrum and pulse against the wound on my hand. Furrowing my brow, I held it up to my ear, and every few seconds, it would beat like a heart or perhaps a clap of thunder.

Taking a breath in, I practiced a trick I had learned; I was able to listen to my heart just by taking a breath, and like I had suspected, this bandage and my heart beat in time. Chuckling lightly, I ensured the bandage was tight before tucking the box away.

She claimed to be retired and out of the game, but she did things like this, heart-infused bandages for me and an entire base for the character in the game. It seems like she had a bit of a lowercase heart under all that. That was likely why she hadn't gotten any farther. You needed to kill people or consign them to fates worse than death to climb up the Mansus.

Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts away. I was in the middle of work. The occult could come after that, besides now that I knew how to do a jig to keep away the cold as I searched past the White Door so I already had a plan for the night.

Time passed as the Wheel turned and I worked. However, I was stopped from my closing duties when a woman stepped inside the shop just a few minutes before I would shut the door.

Her eyes held a steely edge, and she was dressed in a simple dress with pockets on the inside that I could spot. "Hello, how can I help you?" I asked her, resting my wounded hand under the counter. "I am looking for certain texts of strange rarity," she asked, peering into my eyes.

I felt a prickling on the back of my neck. She was pretty and perhaps only a few years my senior, but she held my gaze just as well as any long-time officer.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," I responded, feeling like I was talking through molasse. "However, I am willing to write down what you are looking for; it would help when we restock," I continued, fishing out a pen and pad of paper that was under the counter for any quick math needs.

Her eyes darted down to my wounded hand as she leaned on the counter. "How did that happen?" she asked, her eyes glinting in the fading sunlight, "Just a bit clumsy, slipped with the knife," I said, my voice somewhat wavering before she suddenly pulled back.

"Well then, put down Connie Lee for any strange tomes in Greek," she told me as a small smirk flashed across her face before fading into her everpresent small smile.

"Of course, have a good day, Ms. Lee," I said as she turned to leave. I kept my back firmly straight as she closed the door behind her before shuddering as she left.

I hurried around the edge of the counter to lock the door before anybody could come in. I was sure that Ms. Morland would understand; I had just chatted with Connie Lee Hunter and, quite possibly, Long at some point. I knew the game didn't translate to real-life life one-on-one, but looking her in the eyes showed that even before learning about the occult, she had steel in her.

I mean, she was a suffragist in the 1920s, for god's sake. I didn't know all that much about UK history, but from what I could remember, the US only passed the 19th Amendment sometime in the early to late 1920s, meaning that given her age, she was likely a suffragist before she could drink.

Sighing, I removed my glasses to rub my eyes. I was tired and frankly wanted to just head to bed, but unfortunately, I couldn't do so without entering the Manus, which was annoying.

Whatever, I was going to get home, and if Connie got in my way, I would go through her. I couldn't right now, but given that she likely weighed less than me and was a solid five inches shorter, a good hit should put her down for the count.

Of course, it shouldn't come to that, but if this was her before she learned even the barest scrap of Edge lore, then I didn't want to fight her when she started jumping into it feet first.

Walking into the kitchen, I set the money from the register on the counter along with the key. "We had somebody new asking around," I said as Ms. Morland set some kind of simple beef stew on the table. She merely raised an eyebrow before taking the first sip.

I followed after her, and tension fled from my body as I drank it. I didn't know what kind of spices she used, but whatever they were, she was a great cook. "This is amazing," I pointed out before returning to my original point. "Anyway, a woman by the name of Connie Lee. Not quite sure what her deal is, but I'm pretty sure she's not an occultist."

Ms. Morland looked down at her meal as she tapped her spoon on the side of the bowl for a few moments as she thought. "The Lee's are a somewhat newer family, I would have to check, but I believe the heiress is a known maverick," she said as she looked back up at me, "She has gone off adventuring and sort," she continued before taking another sip.

"I see; what is the plan then?" I asked, causing her to sigh, "Frankly, I will just leave," at my shocked look, she continued, "I'm getting old. Heart and Grail do wonders, but I don't have that many years left in me, and if the Bureau starts looking, I can't put up much of a fight. So yes, I plan on packing up and leaving; the Caribbean might be nice."

I looked at her, shocked. I knew that she was 'retired,' but it was still a shock to see somebody who had seemed like such a strong pillar, even if it was only for a week, just fold into herself.

"Of course, that likely won't be soon, and if so, feel free to take what I have left," she told me with a small chuckle as she polished off another bite. "I see," I said once again before taking a bite; I needed time to think about this, and so for now, we ate in silence.

"Thank you for dinner," I said to her as I cleaned up the table. She merely smiled slightly before walking to the back of the kitchen, where she likely slept. I finished cleaning the dishes and left them out to dry before heading up to my room.

I got dressed in my pajama pants and just sat on the bed. I hadn't really taken the time to think over what happened, and frankly, that was because I would likely break down.

Taking a shuddering breath, I quashed any introspective thoughts. I couldn't wallow in my own pity; I had to climb the House of the Sun to get home, and now that Connie was on my tail, I just had to speed up.

Lying back in bed, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Tonight, I would take my first step into the bounds of the House proper and hopefully another on the long road home.

 

[SomethingElse]

Thanks for the chapter!

 

[ptbptb]

We both then placed the dishes in the dishwasher before going our separate ways.

Click to shrink...

Although dishwashers had been invented a few decades back, they wouldn't be in common use until ~1970 or so. The earliest ones were manually powered so he would likely need to stand there cranking a handle when he washes everything.

 

[Witherbrine26]

Although dishwashers had been invented a few decades back, they wouldn't be in common use until ~1970 or so. The earliest ones were manually powered so he would likely need to stand there cranking a handle when he washes everything.

Click to shrink...

I thought that they were automatic, seems that I was wrong. Thank you for pointing that out

 

[Rileyfett]

Very excited to see where this is going, thanks for the chapter!

 

[blankmask]

Nice to see this back, looking forward to more.

Honestly one of the best arguments for learning occultism is just the health benefits. Heart and Grail will pretty much guarantee a long healthy life and Forge can be used to heal even major deformities. Lantern at the very least helps against Alzheimer's and the like. It's not like it will negatively impact your afterlife either.

 

[Witherbrine26]

I dreamt that night of a white door and a silent labyrinth. Wandering through that cold dead place, my Heart beat, and before the dead saught me, now, they shied away.

My Heart roared in my ears like a bolt of Zeus thunder as I walked, frost and ice melting in my path. My eyes were caught by symbols carved in the ice. It spoke of a place where the bog grew deep, and men watched over dances with zealous fervor. I then awoke, my skin steaming as my Heart pounded in my chest.

Waking up this time was much nicer. There was still that lingering dread of ending up one of the voiceless dead, but what I had learned of Heart protected me against the worst of it. I had even managed to learn where a vault was. I didn't know which one it was, but they all had very valuable tools if you could brave them.

Given that it talked about a bog of some sort and that it was behind the White Door, I was going to assume it was the Shires. Of course, that meant jackshit. I knew it was somewhere around London, but exactly where was going to be hard to nail down. I did have a faint idea that it was somewhere south, but I would need time and effort to find its location and even more time to excavate it. All in all, it's not the best idea right now.

Shaking my head, I clambered out of bed and prepared for the day. I could now understand the issues occultists faced. While wrought with danger, why shamble about the Wake when you could slumber and understand things beyond mortal thought.

Making sure I was adequately groomed and my hair was combed behind my ears, I walked downstairs to where Ms. Morland was sitting. "Good morning," she said with a nod as she set down a plate of food. "Morning," I said with a quick smile as I sat down.

The two of us ate in silence, with cutlery clicking on plates. It was the nice kind of silence broken up every so often by the flipping of a newspaper, I hadn't seen her read it before, but I suppose in the age before the internet or widespread radio use, newspapers were still a good buy.

Soon, breakfast was finished, and as I was loading the plates into the dishwasher, Ms. Morland spoke, "I will be meeting with somebody today; I may be gone for a day or two," she told me as a matter of fact. "I expect you to open and close as normal. Place the money in the first drawer to the right," she continued as she gestured towards said drawer with her newspaper.

"Food is in the pantry, and do not burn down my shop," she said, her eyes going hard as she emphasized that last point. "Of course," I said with a faint, somewhat nervous smile. She may claim to be weak and old, but when she got that steely look in her eyes, I could feel something going up my spine, flight or fight, it was called.

However, that look from her eyes faded as she sighed and reopened the newspaper. I kept an eye on her as I glanced at the clock, noticing that I had nearly twenty minutes before I had to open. Better safe than sorry, and frankly, I didn't want to be around Ms. Morland right now. I didn't think she would attack me or anything, but still, I would feel better in the other room.

"I'll go get the shop ready," I told her, receiving a faint nod in response as I went to do just that. I made sure the shelves were stocked as I looked for a new book to read, but I couldn't do much else during my waking hours as I had to man the counter, so attempting to figure out Lantern would be a good way to spend my time.

It took nearly the entirety of my pre opening time but I managed to find a book that would be of help. It was one of the books in the Locksmith's Dream series which from what I remembered were written by Teresa. The part after that series title assured me it was about Lantern with a tinge of Knock. I mean how else was a Light through the Keyhole supposed to be taken.

Settling behind the counter, I cracked open the book and started to read, making sure to keep an eye on the door. If Connie or another cop came back, I wanted to be able to hide what I was reading; the other people I didn't really care about, even if that Forge adept made me nervous.

Time passed as it normally did, and I read my book interspersed by helping folk find what they needed. No occultists came by, which was nice; it meant I could be somewhat relaxed even if the worry about the police did keep me on edge.

Even better though was the amount of reading I managed to get through. I was always a very fast reader and something like this I devoured the text that she had wrote.

I knew the basics of Lantern. I mean, I liked to think that it was what I was aligned with, but frankly speaking, I didn't have that raw hunger for knowledge. I liked learning and knowing things, but if I was honest with myself, I didn't strongly align with any of the Principles, which was a real problem as the way to power was aligning with one or two and learning as much as you could.

The bell above the door rang once again, and so I pushed my book behind the register, looking up to see who entered. It was the tall Forge adept from a few days ago, however this time he he had somewhat wild look in his eyes.

"Where is Morland," he ground out, slamming a hand on the table as he attempted to loom over me. I pushed down any notion of fear and looked him in the eyes, "She is out currently," I told him as I refused to blink.

That was when the door burst open and half a dozen men rushed in. "Hands behind your head, get down!" the man at the front shouted at the Forge-adept who whirled around and scowled at them as the air shimmered around him from the heat he was exuding.

Heedless of the guns pointed at him, he charged them as I ducked behind the counter. I didn't see what happened next, but I heard a crescendo of gunfire that had me clapping my hands over my ears. I couldn't hear anything else until the gunfire petered over a few moments later.

Peeking my head out over the counter, I saw the door hanging off its hinges and bullet holes in both the wall and shelves. A spark of anger burned in my gut as I saw that a few books had been ruined by the gunfire.

Pushing down that anger I stood up and brushed my clothes free of any dust or other debris caused by the police's gunfire. Leaning on the counter I watched the coppers look about franticly almost stumbling over each other before one had the bright idea to talk to me.

"Did you see where he went?" the man asked gruffly, clearly not in the mood to talk to a civilian. I tried to push down my annoyance, but it simmered and blew up, "No, I don't know where he went!" I shouted, gesturing at the broken door, "But perhaps it was outside the fucking door!" I continued my hands gesturing widely around me, "But when you start firing widely, it turns out that people take cover, and that is ignoring the fact you damaged my fucking books!" I ended my shout by slamming my hands on the counter, my blood pounding in my ears even as I felt a stabbing pain shoot through my hand.

"Well, er," he stammered before tipping his hat to me clearly embarrassed by my rant, "We'll make sure he's put away before he can do anything else," he said and with that the others rushed out presumably to go after the Forge-adept.

I kept my back straight and nose curled up in annoyance for another few moments after they left the shop before slumping back on the counter and cradling my hand. "Fuuuuuck," I ground out, clutching my wounded hand. Slamming it on the counter had hurt like hell, and it was only my anger that had allowed me to chock down any yelps of pain.

Swallowing, I pushed aside the pain and rushed over to the bookshelves. The coppers had fired and somehow not managed to land a single shot on the adept. Although, as I thought back through the event, there were decent odds that he had enough Marks that bullets wouldn't do more than bruise him.

Whatever the case I now had to see if I could salvage the damaged books as well as fix the door. I decided to try the books first, the door was just a bit damaged and could likely be fixed with a bit of finagling. Books on the other hand required a much finer touch and I abosutly dispead anybody who damaged books.

Breathing out from my nose I then took a breath in and out again. Getting angry wouldn't help anything. Refocusing on the shelves I started grabbing any books that were damaged, thankfully the wood was sturdy which meant that only the books facing the entrance of the shop were damaged.

That still boiled my blood. Even if they weren't truly important, they were still books and should be treated as such! Taking another few deep breaths in through my mouth and out my nose, I started to refocus my mind when I heard the tinkling of a bell.

"We're closed," I absent-mindedly said, but the voice that replied back caused me to sit up straight from where I was squatting over a bottom shelf. "I'm just here to ask a few questions," Connie Lee said, the sound of her boots tapping on the wooden floor.

I shot up and whirled around, plastering a smile on my face. "Well then, ask away; I have nothing to hide after all," I said, striding over to the counter with more confidence than I felt. She leaned on the counter as I kept the smile on my face. Her eyes searched my face before she spoke once again. "Then what is this?" she asked, her voice holding a drawl of challenge as she held up The Locksmith's Dream: a Light through the Keyhole.

I froze looking at the book as my smile wavered, and my mind tried to remember if I had tucked the book away earlier, "It's a guide on how to make locks, mainly focused on the smithing," I blustered, but I was never a good liar. Give me twenty minutes, and I could bullshit about anything but pure lies in the spur of the moment; they were weak.

"Really?" she purred, leaning over the counter, a smug expression on her face as I could swear I smelt a tinge of rusting metal from somewhere. "This book is well known, isn't it, Occultist?" she asked, and the final word was like a gavel slamming on the table of a judge. Bars Across the Sun that was where I was headed, and judging by Connie's smirk, she knew it.

However, looking her in the eyes, I couldn't allow myself to be arrested. I had a family I had to get back to, so I lunged for her. She attempted to backpedal, but she was not expecting this, so I grasped her head firmly.

I then slammed her head into the counter once, twice, three times. I heard a crunch as her nose broke on the second slam, and by the third, blood was staining the counter. I was then occupied by the knife she slammed into the meat of my shoulder.

My Heart pounded, keeping me from sagging due to the wound as she lunged over the counter and wrenched the knife out of my shoulder, causing blood to spray across the ground. Her weight caused me to topple back, and my head slammed into the ground with a thud that caused me to see stars.

A laugh peeled from my lips, and I couldn't help it; pain caused me to laugh even when I was a child tussling with my brother. I then swung wide with my right hand, catching Connie in the jaw despite her trying to block; she just didn't have the proper leverage with a knife in one hand and the other rummaging at her belt.

Her head snapped back, and I then heaved, pushing her off me; as we both scrambled to our feet, I could feel the tension in the air so thick you could cut it.

My hand was pressing against my shoulder wound as she held her broken nose firmly to her face. "I don't suppose we could let bygones be bygones?" I asked, smiling weakly as blood trickled from my wound. She looked at me tensely as she let go of her nose. "I suppose so," she said, trailing off at the end of the sentence as her hand dropped and dangled by her side.

She then grabbed something at her waist, causing me to lunge at her once again. This time, however, I put my shoulder down and slammed past her; she stumbled and managed to land a scoring blow against my back, cutting open my shirt.

Laughter bubbled up from my lips as the pain surged through my veins, and my heart pounded in my chest. I didn't think I had to worry about bleeding out, but it was still hard to think with the taste of metal thick on my tongue and faint thoughts telling me to go back there and ensure she couldn't report back to the coppers.

Ducking into an ally just a street down from Ms. Morland's shop, I breathed out. She had been gone for just a few hours, and I had gotten into this mess. Unfortunately, Connie was working with the Bureau, which likely meant that they would be back later today to pick up any books from her shop.

Gingerly, I removed my hand from my shoulder wound. It was deep and would need to be treated; the issue was that I didn't know any doctors or the proper methods of first aid. My knowledge of Heart could only carry me so far, and infection could set in rapidly without any antibiotics to stop it.

Pushing the thoughts down I crept through the ally. It seemed to lead towards the street behind Morland's and so I made my way back to the shop. Peaking through the back window I peered into what I presumed to be the back room of the shop and thankfully the door was open. Looking around I couldn't see any trace of Connie but trying the door revealed it was locked.

Running my hand over my face, I cringed as I spread blood over it and nearly in my eyes. "Sorry, Ms. Morland," I muttered as I slammed my foot into the door; it took another two kicks before the door slammed open.

Stumbling inside, I started to rummage through the shelves for any books I could use. I could figure out lodgings and the sort later; occultism was how I was going to get home.

Setting aside any books I couldn't read, I soon had a small pile. My eyes flicked up to the door, and I gritted my teeth. Connie wasn't here, so I needed to leave before she came back. Looking around the house, I managed to find a small satchel that I dumped the books in. I then headed upstairs and swept my meager savings into my pockets before stuffing my other pair of clothes inside it.

Nabbing my toothbrush as well I crammed it inside the satchel which was bulging at the seams before trotting down the stairs in the horse-like fashion I normally did so. Grabbing the Heart-infused bandages I shucked off my shirt and started wrapping it over my shoulder and pulled it tight. A short laugh escaped my mouth that was a bit weaker due to the suddenness but thankfully I managed to tie it off.

It wouldn't stay tied if I had to run, but it would work for now. Touching my back wound revealed that it was mostly done bleeding, which meant that it should close as long as I didn't get into any more fights. Pulling my shirt on, I layered my red hoodie over the top of it. I had stopped wearing it because it was clearly not from here, but I would rather be given strange looks than be arrested because my shirt had blood on it.

Standing up, I snuck out of the back exit and looked at Ms. Morland's shop. I had only been here for a short time but I would miss it. A short hysterical laugh escaped my chest, she had been gone for just a handful of hours, and things had gone to shit. I was wounded, on the run, and likely never going to go home! My laughter deteriorated until I was crying in the back alley, hysterically sobbing as I dropped to my knees.

It took longer than I would like to admit to pull myself back together but I finally managed to do so. I was not of sound mind, and I could feel myself teetering on the brink of another breakdown, but I had to go. I couldn't bring Ms. Morland down with me.

With one last look at Ms. Morland's shop, I was away, leaving behind the relative safety of her shop and heading deeper into The City, hopefully away from the Bureau and closer to my goal of getting home.

 

[ptbptb]

Could do with a quick spellcheck on this one. There were a handful of random typos. (It's stupid o'clock in the morning and I should be asleep so I won't be pointing them out)

It is now a more reasonable time in the morning and I'm supposed to be awake. I've highlighted stuff.

It took nearly the entiery of my pre opening time but I manaed to find a book that would be of help. It was one of the books in the Locksmith's Dream seris which from what I remebred were written by Teresa. The part after that seris title assured me it was about Lantern with a tinge of Knock.​

​

entirety / managed / series / remembered / series

​

That was when the door burst open and half a dozen men rushed in. "Hands behind your head, get down!" the man at the front shouted at the Forge-adept who whirled around and scowled at them as the air shimmred around him from the heat he was exuding.​

​

shimmered

​

Peaking my head out over the counter, I saw the door hanging off its hinges and bullet holes in both the wall and shelves. A spark of anger burned in my gut as I saw that a few books had been ruined by the gunfire.​

​

Peeking

​

Pushing down that anger I stood up and brushed my clothes free of any dust or other debrei caused by the police's gunfire. Leaning on the counter I watched the coppers look about franticly almost stumbling over eachother before one had the bright idea to talk to me.​

​

debris / each other

​

"Well, er," he stammred before tipping his hat to me clearly embrassed by my rant, "We'll make sure he's put away before he can do anything else," he said and with that the others rushed out presumbly to go after the Forge-adept.​

​

stammered / embarrassed / presumably

​

Refocusing on the shevles I started grabbing any books that were damaged, thankfully the wood was sturdy which meant that only the books facing the entrance of the shop were damaged.​

​

shelves

​

However, looking her in the eyes, I couldn't allow myself to be arrested. I had a family I had to get back to, so I lunged for her. She attempted to backpeddle, but she was not expecting this, so I grasped her head firmly.​

​

backpedal

​

Looking around I couldn't see any trace of Connie but trying the door revelaed it was locked.​

​

revealed

​

Nabbing my toothbrush as well I crammed it inside the satchel which was buldign at the seams before trotting down the stairs in the horselike fashion I normal did so. Grabbing the Heart-infused bandages I shucked off my shirt and started wrapping it over my shoulder and pulled it tight. A short laugh escaped my mouth that was a bit weaker due to the suddensess but thankfully I managed to tie it off.​

​

bulging / horse-like / normally / suddenness

​

It took longer than I would like to admit to pull myself back together but I fianlly managed to do so. I was not of sound mind, and I could feel myself teetering on the brink of another breakdown, but I had to go. I couldn't bring Ms. Morland down with me.​

​

finally

 

[Witherbrine26]

Could do with a quick spellcheck on this one. There were a handful of random typos. (It's stupid o'clock in the morning and I should be asleep so I won't be pointing them out)

It is now a more reasonable time in the morning and I'm supposed to be awake. I've highlighted stuff.

Click to shrink...

I was writing this late myself so I was bound to miss some errors so thank you for pointing them out

 

[Rileyfett]

Kinda loved the chill in a bookstore and become a god but guess it can never be that easy, story is picking up and I'm excited to see where it goes

 

[Witherbrine26]

Kinda loved the chill in a bookstore and become a god but guess it can never be that easy, story is picking up and I'm excited to see where it goes

Click to shrink...

Turns out working at an occult bookstore gets the attention of the police who are not a fan of Adepts mucking about, it also doesn't help that if I'm going to get caught reading something I have a tendacy to shove it out of sight. Which helps against your average Joe but Connie was looking and so she found a pretty incriminating book

 

[Witherbrine26]

I kept my hoodie tight against me as I walked the streets of London. I needed to find shelter first and foremost. I could remember a faint tidbit: Three minutes without air, three hours without shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food. I wasn't sure if I remembered it right, but the sun was dipping over the midpoint, and clouds were filling the sky, so I would prefer to find shelter before nightfall.

So I held my satchel close to me and walked, searching for a place I could rest for the night that would be warmer than the streets and wouldn't carry a risk of getting drenched.

However, as time passed and rain started dribbling from the sky, I couldn't find anything. The looks from the upper-class people near Morland's had pushed me towards the poorer area of the city, as I didn't want them to call the police on me.

London didn't have any conveniently abandoned places, and I doubted anybody would just let a random person inside their house, especially if they were wounded. I also couldn't find any shelters I could rest in, and from what I knew, vagrancy was a crime here. I wasn't entirely sure about that last part, but being caught out in the open was a death sentence with the books I had, possibly literally, depending on how severe my crime was.

As the heavens opened further and rain poured down, I sought cover. I wouldn't be finding a proper place to rest, so I would have to settle for a place to prevent me from being soaked to the bone.

By the time I found a small outcropping in an alleyway, my hoodie was drenched. It wasn't built for this sort of weather; it was designed to break the wind and prevent the cold from reaching me, not block gallons of water falling from the sky.

Curling up under the outcropping, I scowled as a few drops of water hit me. This place was not perfect; it was pretty clear that water would seep through the cracks, not to mention the water already pooling around my ankles, but I didn't have any better options.

Taking a few minutes, I kept watch to make sure nothing else would happen. If the water kept rising beside lapping at my heels, then I would need to move, but thankfully, it didn't

However, the rain did one thing, even if it dripped on my head: It started to lull me to sleep. Yawning, I bit my thumb to keep myself awake. It may have been night, but I didn't want to go to sleep. Who knew if I would wake up?

The pain did little to keep me awake, and even as Heart thrummed through my veins, my eyes drifted close as I slept under the pouring of rain and my body started to shiver.

I walked through scar-barked trees unfounded by darkness for just now. I gazed upon a towering plinth of stone that thrummed and seemed to turn. Stepping forward, I ran my hand over it; the Wheel still turned even in death. Of course, the Wheel still lived under the brilliant moon. I then set into a brisk run. The Woods shuddered with the ancient power of who borne by blood and roots, and so I kept moving, desperately attempting to move until I woke.

I was woken up when I felt grasping fingers on my satchel. Snarling, I shot up, glaring at the emaciated figure who darted back. He was an older man, perhaps in his mid-forties. "Back the fuck off!" I shouted as I clambered to my feet on unsteady limbs.

The cold had seeped into my marrow, and I was shivering. Without the gift of Heart, I suspected I wouldn't have woken up, and my wet cough only solidified that idea.

The man cowered under my gaze as he took slow steps back. "Didn't mean any trouble, no, sir," he said through a mouth, missing half a dozen teeth as he attempted to shrink down. I tried to force my body to stop shivering as I glared at him. I didn't think I could speak with the cold smothering that burst of fiery anger in my chest.

The man seemed to take my silence as anger, and he fled, his head snapping back every few seconds to ensure I wasn't chasing him. The second he left my sigh, I sagged against the slick wall.

That Wheel influence was coming in handy. My fingers were shuddering, and not just from the cold; I could feel a small fire in my chest that was fighting desperately against the cold. I needed to find shelter and warmth, perhaps I could survive if I didn't, but the wet cough I gave did not encourage that thought.

Brushing my wet hair out of my face, I staggered into the street. Hopefully, I could find somebody nice enough to take me in for at least the night, but I wasn't hopeful. However, I had an idea. Secret History dealt with finding things; according to Ms. Morland, I had a stench around me. Maybe that would help? Whatever the case, there was no harm in trying.

Taking a breath in, I focused on finding somebody who would be willing to help me and wandered. My feet traced paths through the city of London, guided by part desire and part water-soaked eyes searching for help.

I didn't know how long had passed in my wanderings as my limbs grew heavy and my cough worsened, but I stumbled into somebody else. I murmured nonsensically under my breath as I held my satchel tight to my chest.

"Hey, I won't hurt you," the woman's voice said as if calming a frightened bird. Come follow me. Let's get you something warm," she continued before taking me by the rough hand, which was clearly used to work.

I stumbled after her like an exhausted child would stumble after their parent as I was guided somewhere else. The next bit of time was a blur as my Heart pounded in my chest to keep me moving as my brain worked to keep the rest of me alive despite the ice in my chest.

Eventually, the woman laid me back on a small, lumpy couch. "Stay here, I'll get you some soup," she said, her voice worried but still holding a hint of hope. She clearly wasn't sure if you were going to make it but would still do her best to help you until the end.

A few minutes later, a warm bowl was pressed into my hands, warming them and sending that same warmth through my arms and into my chest, where it seemed to thaw that icy lump.

I took a sip, swallowing it despite the heat that seemed to burn the roof of my mouth. I was faintly reminded of that time when I was young and ate cookies too fast. I burnt my mouth that day badly enough for it to scar. This time, however, I would burn my mouth not on cookies but on soup prepared just as beautifully.

"Thank you," I whispered raspily as I felt pressured by my feet. My eyes fluttered open as I brushed my wet hair out of my face, allowing me a look at my savor. She was pretty and smiling in a way that soothed my worry, and with the dimples that showed her face was like this most of the time.

"Of course, nice to meet you. I'm Clovette!" she chirped, her voice holding a note of infectious joy that caused my lips to curl up around the soup. I was sure that Secret History had something to do with this because what was the chance of running into a cultist from the game in the massive city of London?

She was thankfully one of the best people to stumble across; she was optimistic and, from what I could remember, never lost that, no matter what. A faint idea of recruiting her crossed my mind before I crushed it.

I might teach her the bare basics of Heart as I loathed owing anybody something, at least in a case like this. If I were to stay here, then I should pay her back. Looking at her face made me cringe at the thought of leaving her high and dry.

"Aidan, it's good to meet you," I replied, balancing the soup bowl on my chest with one hand to prevent it from spilling as I reached out to shake hers. She shook my hand firmly and enthusiastically before letting go and settling back.

I took a quick moment to look around the place she had brought me. It was a relatively small apartment, and it was clear that she was not all that well off. Not poor, but definitely not at the level of Ms. Morland, which meant taking me in would be straining her finances. Looking at her smiling, joyful face, I decided to teach her a smidgen of Heart. It would help without causing any issues and was the least I could do if she was willing to put up with me.

That would have to wait until I got better. I didn't know if I had anything, and I hoped I didn't, but my cough should hopefully go away soon, and I could be back on my feet.

I was then distracted by her peeling my hoodie off me. "Hey, hey!" I snapped, trying to prevent her, but she merely bopped me on the nose, causing me to recoil and allowing her to reclaim the red article of clothing.

"You can't be better if you're in soaked clothing," she told me, that smile on her face not fading even as she tapped my shirt. "Now off with that," she continued, and even when I looked at her deadpan, she was clearly not going to let up.

"Fine, fine," I grumbled, pulling my shirt off and handing it to her. She shook her head as she saw my sloppily bandaged wound. I'll get something for that. Stay tight!" she chirped before laying my clothes out and heading into what I assumed to be a small kitchen.

She returned with bandages in hand. She then carefully undid my old bandages and rewrapped my wound with the new ones. I hissed as she tied them off tightly but otherwise did my best to keep the pain off my face. It didn't seem to work, as she giggled and ruffled my hair, causing me to sigh and pout.

However, as she stood up, I said, "Don't throw those out," causing her to turn around and look at me confused. I grimaced slightly before continuing, "They are special and will help a ton. Wash them, but you'll want to reapply them."

"Alright!" she said; she may have looked at me confused and slightly concerned, but she decided to go along with me. She may have only known me for a few hours at best, but she would entertain this thought, at least for now. Something about that caused me to relax, I may have known the bare basics of her from the game, but something about her was soothing.

I then heard the sounds of water running. A few minutes later, as I was sipping on the soup, Clovette returned from the kitchen and laid out my bandages, hoodie, and shirt. As I finished with the soup, she took it from me with a smile and returned from the kitchen.

I noticed her eyes would look at the bandages every so often. It seemed she had a slight knack for Heart even before she knew of the Lores. Once I was better, I would teach her about Heart, but for now, I needed to rest and heal. I couldn't sleep without a method to cut my hair, I would always awaken in the depths of the Wood, which was a fast track to having my skull split open by the Velvet and my thoughts scooped out like a small child going after ice cream.

Settling back, I decided to just focus on resting and getting better. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath in, and as my heart beat twice, I breathed out. I didn't know if this would help, but it couldn't hurt. So I started to rest as Heart slowly began to repair my body, watched over by my savior Clovette.

 

[Idirexii]

Once I was better, I would teach her about Heart,

Click to shrink...

That's how you step on the slippery slope.

I love your descriptions.
Made me watch a Cultist Simulator playlist on YouTube.

 

[ptbptb]

I was then distracted by her pealing my hoodie off me.

Click to shrink...

Wrong 'peeling'. Your one rings a bell, but won't strip a banana.

So I started to rest as Heart slowly began to repair my body, watched over by my savor Clovette.

Click to shrink...

savior

 

[Witherbrine26]

I love your descriptions.

Click to shrink...

Thank you for the complement!

Wrong 'peeling'. Your one rings a bell, but won't strip a banana.
savior

Click to shrink...

Thank you for the corrections, fixed

 

[Witherbrine26]

"So, how did you stumble across me?" I asked as I took a sip from the refilled soup bowl. Clovette shrugged, "I thought I heard something, like a drum, and so I followed it. I can even hear it now," she explained, looking off into the distance as she tapped her fingers.

That did make sense. Clovette was a Heart-Adept in the game, so she likely had some sort of link to it. I had also been coated in Heart influence that still thrummed through me so I could understand why she would be able to find me. I had also been backed by a hack job of a rite that guided me towards somebody who could help.

"Well, thank you," I said once again, the ever present flush on my cheeks growing slightly. I felt like I had been saying that every few minutes, but I couldn't thank her enough. Thankfully, I wasn't self-conscious, as sitting in my underwear next to a pretty lady might have short-circuited my brain otherwise.

I chuckled slightly at that, causing Clovette to tilt her head as she looked at me. "Just thought of something amusing," I explained, "Well then, tell me," she said as she tapped my knee impatiently. "Well, I'm sitting on some stranger's couch in my underwear, drinking soup. I find it a bit funny," I told her, a smile spreading across my lips as she chuckled. "Well, it's just for your health, Mister," she shot back, a teasing grin on her face.

I then leaned back and set the now empty bowl down on the floor, "But really, thank you," I continued my thank yous, which she merely waved out. "I couldn't help when you literally ran into me!" she chirped, which caused me to wince slightly.

"Anyway, in payment, I would like to teach you something," I said as I pushed myself into a sitting position. Clovette shifted as I unfolded my legs and stood up to my full height.

I had noticed that I towered over most people, especially women. I was a hair over six feet, and just by eyeballing, I put most women at around 5'3 or 5'4, with the men about 5'6 to 5'7. Of course, I didn't know for sure, but that made sense with what little I knew about how people in older times ate.

This led to my shocked face when I saw that Clovette was almost an entire foot shorter than me. She had hauled my sorry ass back to her place with little issue, and she was nearly a foot shorter than me; she was strong as hell.

Shaking that away, I took a deep breath and gently grabbed her hands. Spinning her around, I started to intone; it wasn't a song or anything such as that. It was more primal, older, with a thud that was low enough that you could hear it in your heart.

"What—" she started before I spun her into a dance; it wasn't anything formal or regimented. It was merely the two of us spinning around as I slammed my feet to the beat.

A few seconds later, her legs twitched as she joined me. Her confused look had twisted and tilted from a confused expression to one of joy and completion.

The two of us swayed back and forth for a time as I led her in a merry dance that came straight from the Heart. The two of us smiled as, despite the frantic motions, our hearts only beat harder, and energy trickled from our limbs, unlike the torrent one would expect.

I eventually collapsed back on the couch coughing; despite my passing knowledge of Heart and the aid invoking such a thing had helped with, I was still under the weather.

"Oh, you shouldn't have done that," Clovette chided me. However, her cheeks were flush with exertion, and I could tell she had questions bouncing around in her mind.

"But it was fun, right?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as she coughed slightly, averting her gaze momentarily. "Well, yes, but what was that?" she asked as she sat at the foot of the couch, causing me to swiftly move my feet out of the way and let them dangle off the couch.

"The heart beats to protect the skin of the world," I told her cryptically. When she swatted my shoulder, being careful not to actually hurt me, I laughed. "Sorry, sorry," I said, chuckling as I raised my hands. " In actuality, it's a force of nature called Heart," I told her, shifting to sit up slightly so I could use my hands to explain a bit better.

"There are things that are unseen under the world, the sort of information that will have you wandering the street in the middle of the night," I told her, all humor fading from my voice. I would teach her if she wanted to learn, but she had to know the danger.

"Of course, I want to know," she replied, her cheer not fading from her voice. I knew she wouldn't refuse, or at least I guessed. It was hard to say how much a few lines of text translated over to a real person, but I knew Clovette or at least the basics of her. She was optimistic and wielding joy like a hammer; she wouldn't back down, and once she was inducted far enough, she could drag others along in her wake.

"Very well, so to start, I'll teach you about Heart, the principle of life and movement," I told her, pushing myself up so that I could look her in the eyes as I spoke.

"Place your head on my chest and listen," I told her, and when her cheeks flushed, I rolled my eyes, "I'm teaching you occult knowledge; you already felt its touch, so there's no need to be squeamish."

She was still somewhat hesitant but nonetheless bent down and placed an ear on my chest. She then started back as she heard my heart pounding loudly in my chest; she looked down at my haggard self as if checking to see if I was truly tired.

"I'm not the best with Heart, but one of its best uses is in health. It's why I was able to walk in the freezing rain for so long and why I'm already feeling better," I told her with a wry smile. I was overstating what I could do just a smidge. I was cheating massively, as I had with everything I had done here.

"So your heart beats, and that lets you walk in the rain?" she asked; I could see the gears turning in her head. She had felt the touch of Heart and was already aligned to it slightly, which made these first few steps all that much easier. However, I needed to guide her gently; otherwise, she would crack and go mad. There was a reason there were so few occultists; it was so very, very easy to go stark-raving mad. I was cheating, as I always was, and even then, I had nearly lost my mind to the Velvet and her children.

"Not quite; it's hard to explain simply. Heart is best felt in, well, the heart," I told her, chuckling slightly at my phrasing as I slumped back on the couch. "Do you know how you felt earlier? Breathe. Breathe in and place your hand on my chest. Don't breathe out."

Clovette did just that. As she closed her eyes and placed a hand on my bare chest, I focused on breathing in and out as my heart pounded. My fingers twitched, and I wanted to get up and dance around the room, but I forced that urge down; I was teaching Clovette, not dancing.

Clovette followed my breathing as a smile twitched on her face; it started small as she focused but grew until it was ear to ear. She didn't seem to notice it as her hand twitched and tapped on my chest, drumming to a beat the two of us could only hear in the deepest parts of our blood.

"Strange, is it not?" I asked her softly as she removed her hand from my chest; she seemed somewhat surprised as she opened her eyes, and her breathing returned to normal. However, I had no doubt that while the dancing had left a mark, she had gathered her first scraps of Heart knowledge. I didn't have much to teach her as you were going off stolen knowledge, but this would hopefully be enough to repay her.

"I feel different," she said, and unlike every other time I had talked to her, her voice was quiet. She was coming down from feeling something cosmic. It was only the barest scrap of Heart, but hearing the reverberations of a cosmic being, one who danced to keep the world moving, would shake you.

"You will; this is knowledge that is hard to learn," I told her with a gentle smile, or at least my best attempt at one. This knowledge had stolen me from home and brought me a hundred years into the past. I did my best to push down on that feeling and returned my gaze to Clovette. She seemed to notice the slight down-turning of my lips but didn't say anything.

"Let me get you some more soup," she stated as she rose to her feet, clearly wanting to move past the awkward moment. She then strode off and into the small kitchen. I watched her leave before my eyes returned to my bag, which had been hung on the arm of the couch I was resting on. If she was going to be cooking, I wanted to have something to read, so I twisted and started fishing around.

It was hard to contort myself in the manner that I needed to grab a book, but I had done things like this before. Something that was just out of reach, and I didn't want to get up and grab it, so you had to twist and stretch your body in a manner that was harder than if you had just gotten up.

I managed to grab a book: The Burning of the Unburnt God. I remembered it as a Forge book but couldn't remember the rest. However, what I did remember was that Forge could heal you, cure crippling wounds that nothing else, not even Heart, could. Although that could be a simple gameplay limit.

My hands stopped before I opened the book as I mused on that. Theoretically Heart should be able to heal even grievous wounds; it was the whole idea of it. Although maybe once it had decayed into the sort of crippling injuries that Forge could heal, it was less restoration and rebuilding.

As I mused over these thoughts, I couldn't help the faint thrill it sent down my spine. As much as I hated what had happened and my entire situation, this was fascinating to learn. The Manus was a place I wanted to explore and flip over every stone, and the Glory was glorious; I didn't have words to describe it.

I pushed those thoughts aside for now; I had a book to read and a recovery to get to. I could poke about the Manus and why I was feeling better. My hand was still injured from my flight last time, and I could feel the bone-deep coldness that had soaked my throat. They were healing as my heart pounded in my chest, but it wasn't a quick heal; it would take time, and running about in the House of the Sun was not going to help.

So I settled in on the couch and started reading, focusing on resting more than anything else. The book simply to pass the time until my cold passed, aided by the beating of my heart.