Of Blackest Dreams
15th of September 2006 A.D.
"I think..." you pause a moment, considering the virtues of charging on ahead, trying to meet Mab now on your terms and not on Halloween on hers. Nah, too likely to upset Harry. "I'd rather keep the favor for whatever it's worth. I mean we don't even know what help we might want against the Skinwalker or even
if we are going to have to fight the thing ourselves."
"That's a lot of wes," Harry notes, though he sounds more wary than intransigent.
"I live here too, I don't want people to get eaten and the most important part I just might be
weird enough to hurt it. Isn't that why you became a P.I.?"
"I... Not sure I'd put it that way." He shakes his head and gets back to his drink, but you decide to push a little more.
"Why not, weird is good, some of the best people I know are weird." You look down at the Sisters of Mercy hoodie and the black jeans with the silver buckle you're wearing. "
Really didn't think that was something I'd have to say aloud."
"Well you know how it is with us old folks, takes a while to get the message through."
To that you can only reply with an eye-roll. Right he's ancient and
definitely not trying to remind himself how old you are. Funny how a preternatural instinct for chinks in other people's mental armor can boost a girl's confidence. You'd say something more but A that would probably lead to him draw back into his shell like a crab in boiling water and B Bob's here. No amount of obscure lore would get him to ignore outright flirting
Speaking of obscure lore though... "There is one other thing I'd like to ask questions of that I'd be more comfortable asking in company. I know things I see through the Crown can't hurt me but better safe than sorry."
"Well that's not ominous." Is weary sarcasm more of less severe than just weariness, you wonder.
"Come on Harry, live a little," Bob encourages slyly... Well it would have been sly if he dialed the innuendo back about five notches. Maybe you had not been as subtle as you thought you were.
"Clippy put up Perfected Principle of Consumption please." you ask and the image burned into the stone of the museum flashes on screen.
"Oh la vache!" Bob exclaims.
"It's a cow?" you ask bemused.
"No it's... that's not important." The skull sort of vibrates like he was trying to shake his head. Then he unhinges his jaw that through it might pour eerie verse, like a recording of something heard long ago:
"Whirlwinds of iron blood and gall frozen evermore in place
Fate is broken time is Not, for those Broken to debase
Black is the Labyrinth, more than gods, less than dust
In the veins of all that lives dwells ever rust"
"What does that mean?" you ask, fascinated in spite of yourself.
"Don't know. A Black Court Elder, I think he was from some place in Eastern Europe though that might just have been DuMorne's taunting, said that as he was being tortured to give up his master. He managed to get one hand free of the chains broke it in the process not that it mattered to it and drew that thing on the wall in his.. fluids, not sure if you would call that blood. The stone transmuted to the consistency of one white scales that moved as if alive. Then DuMorne burned it to ash. The wall burned..."
"Like pyre-flame," you finish absently.
"Are you going to tell me what that is?" Poor Harry sounds like he one hundred percent does not want to have this conversation. Maybe you should have put it off until he was done eating.
"Not sure, that's just what came to mind."
"Still want to ask about it?" He sounds like he knows the answer already.
"I pulled it out of
somewhere. Not knowing just means not looking down at my own hand to see what's in there." So saying you grab the unopened bottle of fizzy water and pour it over your head. "Don't laugh it works." With one final deep breath you ask: "What is the history behind the name invoked here?"
"Ever-sleeping, Never-Forgotten, Mockery Maker NEVERBORN"
The titles batter at understanding like broken pieces of some cosmic architecture hurled in a mad rage. Were you other than what you are you would have to strive not to see your mind shattered, as it is you are just bewildered trying to read between the pieces. Having asked for 'history' you behold an acausal entity that cannot have a beginning and will not have an end, no matter how much it might beg for it. Yet there is
something there., tying in to what Bob had said. Blood, crimson water of mortality...
Lost 1 Essence -> now at 5/12
With a gasp you come through. "It's some kind of creator being
still even though it would rather with all its heart and souls to be a destroyer, it made the Black Court to be its priests and heralds, not sure from what, but each of them are of its nightmares-manifest. I think that I would get another question if I pointed the Crown at one of them." Seeing Harry's shocked expression you hasten to add: "Not like I'm going to go looking for it... just you know, just a thought."
There is one thought you do not speak aloud, one feeling you do not know how to express: sorrow, almost a sense of kinship.
What do you do next?
[] Restoring the Last Station: Restoration efforts have been going well and according to Adam some more of the people down in the tunnels have shown interest in their newfound wealth and comfort (2/8)
[] Dreaming True, Rosie is doing great so far, but she still needs more training before she can get a proper hold of her powers (3/10 pogress)
[] Back to School, you want to make sure a certain bunch of idiots are not bullying either their old victim or a new one
[] Ask more questions
-[] Write in
OOC: I figured since you were here it would make sense to ask the Neverborn question in company. Also Bob still has no filter when it comes to horrifying eldritch knowledge