Twenty years have passed since the Fissure opened. Little is publicly known about it, save that the tremor of its creation rippled around the world. The fledgling PRT and Protectorate were quick to encircle it with walls once they'd confirmed strange creatures had begun to emerge from its depths and odd phenomena followed at their heels. But they weren't fast enough to contain everything that slipped through.
Taylor's mother was different from everyone else. Taylor was, as well. They knew to hide their differences. But a figure from Annette's past found them all the same. Now Taylor seeks to discover where her mother has gone, and for that, she needs to gather allies, hone her skill with her inherited magicks, and uncover secrets her mother kept even from her daughter.
I didn't reply, didn't react. My focus was on the rectangular, smartphone-sized device of intricately interwoven stone, metal, and crystal in my hand, on the image projected just above its flat surface. The picture was of my mother, her arm around the shoulders of another, shorter woman, with tanned skin and dark blue hair. The two wore the same white coats, and the same weary smiles that didn't quite hide the tension that lay behind them, no matter how genuine they might be. A memory recorded long before I was born.
Mom was gone now, but the other woman could, hopefully, help me obtain the means to find her again.
"Oi." A finger poked me in the shoulder. "Earth to Tinúviel, do you copy?"
My head snapped up to fix my girlfriend with a glare of fond annoyance, and I swatted half-heartedly at her prodding hand. "Stop that!" I couldn't help but feel grateful, though, for the way she'd managed to disrupt how wound-up I'd been getting.
She caught my hand and held it, rubbing the back with her thumb. "What's eating at you? Tell me. You know putting my worries into words helps me get a grip on them. Give it a try, mm?"
I scoffed, but relented. "It's just, this is the last lead I have. I don't know what I'll do if this falls through. And I'm stressing about what it might cost me even if it doesn't, but…" I took a halting breath. "This has to work. It has to."
"Hey," she murmured, putting an arm around my shoulders and letting her head rest against mine in a way that never failed to make my chest feel tight. I mostly succeeded at suppressing the happy shudder that wanted to run through me. Mostly. But she didn't comment on that, if she noticed. "Look, we'll be in contact the whole time. As unlikely as you are to need my backup, I'll be ready to help should you need me, okay? Worst case, we run. And besides, you're not going in alone."
I glanced down, meeting the soft, black eyes of my familiar, Beryl, who trilled happily. Her glow brightened for a moment before she caught herself and corrected her slip.
I nodded softly, the sensation of the edge of her hockey mask pressing into my cheek helping to further ground me. "Thanks, Sophia."
She huffed fondly. "Of course, Taylor."
.o.o.o.
A long line of people snaked up to the Palanquin's entrance, men and women wearing seemingly equal amounts of clothing and cosmetics. Bypassing them all to go straight to the door netted me a fair few glares, but apparently no one wanted to start shit with the obvious cape who was accompanied by the greyhound-sized, vaguely fox-like creature made of glowing green energy. Couldn't imagine why.
The bouncers at the door, a man and a woman, both tall and muscular, warily watched my approach, eyes glinting nervously in Beryl's light. That and the club's outside lighting combined to cast their faces in particularly unflattering hues. When I got close, one of them cleared her throat and said, "Do you have business here, miss?" Her eyes flitted to Beryl, then back to me.
I smiled behind my mask, taking an unkind amount of enjoyment from how intimidated they were. "Yes, I'm meeting someone here," I replied, then drew closer so I wouldn't be overheard by the people in the line. "I'm Grimoire. Elbst and her team are expecting me."
The bouncer pulled out a smartphone and circled her thumb on its surface to presumably check something on it. "Yeah, you're on the list," she said, eliciting a few half-hearted grumbles from those in the line still waiting to get in. She sent off a text and continued, "Someone will be here to take you to them, if you'll wait a minute."
I nodded and settled into wait.
The doors of the Palanquin were large panes of smoked glass set in matte black metal, revealing hints of what lay beyond them, but no more. Tastefully understated, and predisposed to reflecting Beryl's glow, making it even harder to see past them. But despite it all, I managed to spot the blurred shape of someone approaching well before the minute was up. The doors opened, revealing an extremely orange… teenager? It was difficult to judge, but I was fairly certain he was at least a few years older than I was. His hair was a rich blue, and he wore an open suit jacket with nothing on underneath, showing off a lean, athletic physique that my eyes gravitated towards. Matching slacks hung low on his hips to make room for his thick tail, and his feet were bare. Somehow, he made the whole ensemble look rackish rather than sloppy, and I had to take a moment to firmly remind myself that I was already taken.
"Hey," he said, raising a hand in greeting while the other remained in his jacket pocket. I mentally shook myself to reset my train of thought. "I'm Newter. You're the one, yeah?" Though his face was turned towards me and his posture appeared relaxed, his eyes were fixed on my Carbuncle.
"Yes," I replied. "And don't worry about Beryl here. She's very well-behaved." I scratched around the red gem in her forehead, and she pressed against my hand, something between a growl and a purr rumbling out of her chest.
"Alright." He turned, and at his gesture I followed him into the club, the doors closing behind us. He stayed just out of arm's reach as we approached the loud music and flashing lights of the main area of the club. "Keep in mind, if things turn violent, we will intervene, and both you and they will be evicted and blacklisted from using any of our services regardless of who started what, etcetera, etcetera."
That sure wasn't doing any favors for my nerves. "Noted. Does that have anything to do with why you're the one escorting me instead of literally anyone else in your boss' employ?" I paused. "Uh, no offense intended. You understand what I'm getting at, right?"
"You're asking why have a parahuman do what anyone, powers or no, could do just as easily?" Neuter tilted his head. "The way I understand it, it's a mix of caution and respect. We want to keep things calm, and I'm pretty good at dealing with rowdy guests." He gave me a lopsided grin. "On the respect side of things, some people, cape or not, get offended if they feel they aren't being taken seriously. Thus, me."
I nodded slowly. "I think I understand." I'd done some research when I learned the meeting would be here, and from what I recalled, Newter's powers involved every one of his body fluids, from his blood to the oils on his skin, being potent hallucinogens that could incapacitate a person with a mere touch. Good at dealing with rowdy guests, indeed.
We emerged from the hall into the bright, strobing lights and loud music of the main room, and a thought occurred to me. "How soundproof is this room you're taking me to?" I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the din.
"What? Oh, it's partially soundproofed. Normal conversation will be inaudible to anyone outside, but if someone shouts for help, someone will hear."
That calmed my nerves a little.
We skirted around the edge of the room, avoiding the center and the attention it'd bring. A few people did notice and watched us, naturally, but no one approached before we went through a door marked "VIP Access Only". The bouncer standing beside it side-eyed Beryl and me but didn't so much as twitch otherwise.
I reached out with one hand to scratch Beryl behind her long ears, rewarding her for how well-behaved she'd been thus far, and she responded with a soft trill. That, along with my other hand subtly tracing the patterns stitched into the spine of my book, helped calm my nerves as we drew ever closer to our destination.
We passed a couple doors before stopping at a third, and Newter turned to me. "Your destination, Miss," he said, bowing deeply to me with one hand over his chest and the other outstretched as if to indicate the door. I struggled for a moment to suppress a grin at his antics, before remembering that my mask covered my mouth, and I surrendered to the impulse. "There is a phone in there should you need our assistance, be it a wish for refreshments or otherwise," he continued, affecting a faux-posh tone.
I considered playing along, before discarding the idea. I'd need everything I had for this meeting, I expected. "Alright," I replied with a nod.
Newter wilted a little at that, then straightened up. "I'll leave you to it then," he said and headed off past me back towards the dance floor. I waited a moment, then turned to the door. I took a deep breath, then let it out. I raised my hand to knock on the door.
"Do come in, dear," a woman murmured in my ear before my knuckles could meet the wood, her accent achingly familiar. I flinched and turned to look for whoever had managed to sneak up on me, only to find no one in the hall aside from Beryl and myself. A moment later I went still as something filtered through my mind; whoever that voice belonged to, she had the exact same accent as my mother. Buoyed by a sudden surge of hope, I turned back and opened the door.
Leather couches lined the walls opposite and to the left of me, with a couple cushioned chairs to the right and a table in the middle of it all. The couch to the left was occupied by a single solidly-built man who, from what little I could see of his face, looked to be somewhere in his twenties. His hair was brown and cut boringly short, and he was dressed in dull-colored, rugged-looking clothes with strategically-placed stiff portions that implied armoring of some kind.
The other couch had three occupants, all women, all sitting quite close together. On the left was a woman so pale I could actually see a hint of veins beneath her skin, trailing from the corners of her thin, no-nonsense lips back and down across her jawline. Her hair was the same shade of brown as the man's but long enough to be worked into a complicated-looking braid that started above one temple and ended in a tight bun. Her back was ramrod straight, and despite the lenses of her mask concealing her eyes I could practically feel her gaze boring into me. Her costume looked to be a more armored version of what the man wore, with some kind of military-style harness laden with pouches filled with gun magazines and the like. Poking out of a partially unzipped bag on the couch beside her was the grip and stock of a gun.
On the other side lounged a tall, dusky-skinned woman whose body language put me in mind of a large cat: playful, relaxed, but ready and eager to commit violence at a moment's notice. Sharp, angular features made her look quite striking, in a handsome way that some part of me beneath the stress rather appreciated. Her black hair was done up in asymmetric cornrows, and her costume looked about equivalent to the man's in terms of armor. Where the man was of middling height, and the first woman seemed a couple inches shorter than him, this woman looked to be just shy of six feet tall. And yet, she was not the tallest person in the room.
That honor lay with the final occupant of the room, a tall, lanky woman who was six feet tall at least. Bushy, untamed, brown hair reached her shoulders and framed her tanned face. Her posture was relaxed, leaning back into the couch with her arms resting outstretched on its back behind her two teammates, but despite that I didn't miss the assessing look I could see in her eyes behind the lenses of her mask. A large handgun of some kind rested openly in a holster strapped to her left thigh, and on the table in front of her lay a rather fancy-looking hatchet, its blade covered by a fitted sheath.
A sudden rush of self-consciousness from automatically comparing my ill-fitting robes to their professional-looking costumes in my head warred with the clenching in my chest the sight of their visible weapons provoked. Despite that, I managed to turn my sudden freezing into a pause to let Beryl in past me, her tails flicking against my leg as she passed, then let the door click shut.
"Well, now." Just two simple words, but I couldn't stop myself from inhaling sharply. My head snapped up to look at the tall woman, who had cocked her head as if in consideration. Hers was the voice in the hallway, with the accent so familiar it was like salt in a reopened wound.
The accent that was so very like my mom's.
She hummed a soft note, then smiled welcomingly. "Come, sit, sit!" She motioned to the vacant chairs, and I hurried to seat my gangly self in one. "Introductions first! You can call me Elbst." She tapped her chest. "These lovely ladies are Colibri," she bobbed her head to indicate the pale woman, who remained staring impassively at me, "And Caterwaul," the same gesture but towards the black woman, who gave me a lazy wave. "And the lad over yonder is Backchannel." The man inclined his head. "Now, by what name shall we know you?"
"I, ah-" I tripped over my own tongue, but managed to swiftly recover. "I'm going by Grimoire, for now, but I'm not fully settled on it." Oh, for- why did I tell them that bit?
Elbst nodded. "Well met, Grimoire. Ah, and does your partner have a name as well?"
"She's Beryl." I scratched the base of my familiar's long ear, to her quiet delight.
"A fitting name. But tell me, how ever did you manage to part her from her former owner?"
I looked up to find that while Elbst was still smiling, her smile had lost its softness the way a blade might lose its sheath, and what remained was hard, sharp, and threatening. I gulped, trying to find the words to answer only for them to slip through my grasp.
Elbst was more than willing to fill the silence. "There is but one way for a Carbuncle to exist upon this star, and that is for the means to summon one to have been brought through the Fissure. And only one instance of that means has been brought through, to my knowledge, by a good friend of mine for whom I have been searching for a long time. That search bore no results until a few moons past, when someone of a description startlingly close to hers was targeted by violence in this very city. She is the only one who should possess a Carbuncle, and you are most definitely not her. So tell me." She leaned forward, one hand hovering over her hatchet. "Did you have aught to do with the attack on Annette Laneaux?"
I gaped at her in disbelief, my hand fisting in the material of my robe. "Wh-what!? No! I, I'd never!"
"Then how, pray tell, did you obtain her magicks, if not by stealing her soul stone?"
"She-" I gasped, raggedly. "She gave it to me. Taught me, started about half a year ago, up until the a-attack. After, she was gone. No sign of her, no calls, no texts, no notes or letters. Just… gone." My eyes burned and my vision swam as tears spilled freely. "I, I thought- you, you knew her, back where she came from. I thought, if I showed you Beryl, that'd get you to take me seriously, get you to help me look for her." I sobbed, once, then chuckled wetly. "Guess I overshot."
Silence fell, broken only by my choked sobs. My phone was buzzing in my pocket, but I made no move to ask Sophia to come get me. Eventually, I heard something shift, then slow footsteps approaching me. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I looked up and blinked enough to get a blurry image of Elbst kneeling in front of me. "Hey," she said, softly and not unkindly. "Forgive me, but I must ask. How does a kid like you know Annette?"
I sniffled. "She's my m-mom."
She knelt there, lips parted in surprise. Her hands came up, and I felt her fingers brush my mask and stop. "May I?" I hesitated, time during which one of the others said something I didn't manage to parse, to which Elbst responded by shaking her head. "I will remove my mask as well, if such would help."
A worried trill preceded Beryl pressing her face under my hand, startling a huff of weak laughter from me. I nodded, and Elbst reached around under my hood to unto my mask's straps, pushing the hood down in the process. With a click, the clasps parted, and my mask came off. She sat back on her heels, her eyes drinking in my features. "You're Annette's child, alright. Hells, you're the spitting image of her," she breathed, before looking past my face. "Your…"
I preempted her question by brushing my hair back to reveal my ear. Small, with a pointed tip. Elbst made a sound of realization. "Your father is a hyur, then?"
"Human, yeah. Born and raised in the city. You…?"
"Ah, right, yes." She leaned back against the side of the table while fiddling with her mask. Motion in my peripherals made me turn my head, bringing me face to face with a bag of tissues, proffered by Caterwaul. "Here," she said, and I gratefully took some to wipe my eyes and blow my nose and otherwise clean my face up.
When my face didn't feel quite so sodden anymore, I looked back to Elbst. Her mask was in her lap, and she was pulling off her hair- a wig, I realized. Her real hair, bound up in a hair net, was a dark blue, and her ears that had been concealed by the wig were long and triangular, and stuck straight out from her head. Her face, though, I already knew quite well, from the picture she'd been in with my mom.
She grinned apologetically. "Hello. I am-"
"You're Alpiane, right?" I interrupted. "Mom mentioned you on occasion, and there were some photos…"
She laughed. "Yes, indeed. Alpiane Shutoux, once mid-level researcher for, now defector from, the Allagan Empire, at your service. I once worked under Annette, and she was something of a friend to me." She stood. "I believe we will be able to help one another, most definitely."
Yes hi hello, it is me, helnae of the abysmal update speed. I haven't discarded my other stories, this one just wouldn't leave me alone until I gave it form Hope y'all like it!
Twenty years have passed on both the Hydaelyn and Earth Bet sides of things since the Fourth Umbral Calamity and the associated fall of the Allagan Empire. The events the player character in FFXIV would experience are still thousands of years away, and as such have little to no bearing on this story. For the most part.
Allag! Humongous Empire! Fantastic Magitech! Biggest (known) project: Small megastructure in space (size of a moon). Lots of extremely interesting Science! Biotech labortories! Mass production! Clones EVERYWHERE!
However: Morals? What is that? Can you eat it? Rights?!? Hah! All you need to do is OBEY Emperor XANDE!!!
Alpiane held out her hand, and after only a moment of hesitation I took it. She turned my hand over and placed my mask in it, then released me and returned to the couch, letting herself drop almost bonelessly onto it. Caterwaul placed the tissue pack on the table near me and went to whisper something in Alpiane's ear while helping her get her wig back in place, while Backchannel got up to bring a small waste paper basket to the floor beside me.
"You have a friend waiting for you outside, do you not?" Alpiane asked suddenly. My eyes jerked to her, and she raised her hands in a calming gesture. "'Twas smart of you to bring backup," she continued, approval in her tone. "Invite her here, should you and she wish, though I will not be offended if she chooses not to join us."
I blinked, uncertain how to take that. My eyes drifted to Caterwaul, her playful smile freshly-returned as she cocked her head. "I hear much," she said, and I detected the faint traces of a French accent in her voice. "You and your friend were within earshot for me. I confess, though, that I do not know who she is, beyond the name you used that I shall not repeat, nor did I know either of you was relevant until you reached the club's doors."
My hackles started to rise at that, but I forced myself to calm down and accept the implicit olive branch. First, I put my mask back on, soft fabric and firm metal covering everything below my glasses, the sensation grounding me. I then pulled my phone out and swapped from the still-active call (output muted, of course) to texts.
Me: Well?
NotTheGoddess: fk idek
NotTheGoddess: hate what a btch she was jus now
NotTheGoddess: but still
NotTheGoddess: dont seem lik a trap
NotTheGoddess: fk it
NotTheGoddess: got a good shot at em fromhere, but good faith i guess
I smiled. I knew Soph could text with good grammar if she wished; anything else was basically poking fun at me. She'd even slipped up and spelled things right a few times there. This time, though, it cheered me up.
"She'll drop in soon," I said as I tucked my phone away. "Like, literally. Through the ceiling. So don't, uh, yeah."
Backchannel looked upwards, then let out a bark of laughter. "She really is," he said, his voice a rich baritone. He rose once again from his couch and pulled a chair out from the table to place beside me.
"What arms does she bear?" Alpiane asked. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed her subtly brush the back of her hand against Colibri's forearm before clasping her hand in her own, fingers interlaced. Colibri didn't visibly relax, but she did reciprocate the gesture.
"A crossbow with a variety of different bolts in her quiver and some knives." Backchannel glanced to Alpiane, who nodded. "Feel free to join us, Miss."
A moment passed, then another, during which I filed away the fact that the man apparently had some form of see-through-walls perception power. Then a shadow dropped through the ceiling, not above the chair, but angled towards it, coalescing into my girlfriend just in time to land expertly, instantly affecting a casual lounging posture. I smothered a laugh at her antics, while letting my eyes take in her costume: a cloak of darkest blue over what had originally been a set of motorcycle leathers, which had been tailored to fit her frame and reinforced in key places. Her mask was matte gray and took the form of a woman's face, lips quirked into a faint smirk that, depending on the angle she held her head, could be either playful or slightly cruel. Mom's work, that.
Sophia, Shadow Stalker, held her pistol-like crossbow pointed firmly at the floor, her finger resting on the trigger guard. It was loaded and drawn; a clear warning, and one that saw the tension in the room rise tangibly. She must've sensed it, too, because she was quick to pluck the bolt from its place. She still held it, ready to load her crossbow at a moment's notice, but the display helped ease the tension, to my relief.
The crossbow was just a sidearm for her, really, but it served better in tight quarters like these than her main weapon, which I knew she was keeping collapsed and hidden under her cloak.
Alpiane had a glint of recognition in her eye as she inclined her head in greeting. "Well met. Shadow Stalker, I presume?"
It was subtle, and Soph was doing her best to cover her reactions with an unflappable façade, but I knew her well enough to spot the mix of increasing tension and surprised pride in the lines of her shoulders. "You've heard of me?"
Caterwaul's hand came up to not-quite-conceal a sudden grin, though her teammates' reactions were even more subdued. But it was Colibri who answered, speaking up for the first time this meeting. "We researched all known parahumans in the city before coming here, as we do wherever we go, regardless of whether or not we intend to do any jobs." Her voice was surprisingly soft for how no-nonsense her demeanor was, but it still carried a stern note. Had I not been looking the right way, I likely would've missed Alpiane subtly brushing her knuckles against Colibri's.
Soph's shoulders drooped, but I could tell that hadn't stung her pride too badly. She'd come a long way from the aggressive, antagonistic girl she once was, and it warmed my heart to see.
Alpiane hummed thoughtfully. "If I recall correctly, your power lends itself well to stealth and infiltration, yes?"
"... Why do you ask?"
"I have the rough beginnings of a plan that should lead towards locating Annette, and Miss Grimoire's presence would ease its completion." She smiled pleasantly. "You seem quite the loyal ally to her, the type to not let her head into danger on her own. So, 'twould be simplest to assume you would accompany her, should she lend us her assistance in this endeavor. Thus, you must be accounted for."
Sophia seemed taken aback by that, but I couldn't spare much thought for that with my mind occupied by what Alpiane had said. "Y-you know a way to find her already?" I asked, sudden, desperate hope filling me.
"Calm, calm," she urged gently. I suddenly realized I'd all but lunged out of my chair in my urgency. As I flushed and sat back down, she continued, "As I said, it is the rough beginnings of a plan, one that I've been putting together in case I found no leads here. I still need to finish piecing it together, then give it a great deal of polish before I would be comfortable calling it a plan in truth."
"But you said I could help?" I all but pleaded, hating myself a little for how I sounded.
Alpiane nodded. "As Annette's daughter by blood, your mere presence would ease certain obstacles I expect we would encounter. With that said, obtaining the means to locate her would necessitate traversing dangerous areas. I will need to take great care when planning so I can keep you as safe from harm as possible." She paused, then smiled apologetically. "Forgive me if this sounds patronizing, but you two are still children. I will not have my conscience, or those of my team, weighed down by either of you being maimed, or worse."
I couldn't help but shrink in on myself. I was a child, a fact rubbed in by how I was the shortest person in the room at only a little over five feet. Even Sophia was a couple inches taller than me. There was some consolation in the fact that Mom was a good head taller than Dad, who was by no means a short man himself at six feet; Mom had assured me that I'd have a dramatic growth spurt in my future, one that'd see me shoot up like a weed. But I still had a few years to go before then.
My height wasn't the true issue, of course. I was self aware enough to know that. The real issue, though…
Alpiane leaned forward. "I will need to know as much as the two of you can tell me about your powers and abilities, if you are to accompany us."
I jolted in my seat as I found my spiraling train of thought thoroughly derailed. "I…" I looked at Shadow Stalker, my eyes on the lenses of her mask. She tilted her head in a wordless question, and after a moment I inclined my head towards her, telling her she should go ahead.
And so she did, telling Alpiane the broad strokes of how her power worked, the brief moments of intangibility, and how that related to her choice in weaponry. By that point I was listening with only half an ear, already well familiar with what she was saying and more besides. The rest of me was busy reminiscing about how she'd managed to get so very good with combining her power with her chosen weapons. Her shadow state only stayed with a projectile for a fraction of a second, and her powers did not come with an enhanced sense for timing and distances. She had to develop those skills all on her own, and the amount of work and effort she'd put in to hone her fighting style made me so very proud of my girlfriend.
I brought the entirety of my attention back to the present as she wrapped up her brief explanation, noting that she hadn't mentioned her shadow state's weakness to electricity. So, she was still cautious of these people, not that she was wrong to be.
Alpiane turned her attention my way, motioning for me to proceed. I took a calming breath and began, "I'm still something of a neophyte in the art of the Summoner, but I am by no means helpless. How much do you know about it? Given it's from your homeland, and you know Mom."
She gave me a weak smile. "Not nearly as much as I would like. Summoners went from exalted champions of the Empire to reviled enemies of the realm before I was born. Those that weren't hunted down and killed went into hiding. Nigh all of what I know that isn't propaganda I learned from Annette." She laughed, a soft chuff of nostalgic humor. "She told me she was one without prompting, that I might have blackmail material over her to equal what she had over me. Despite her having every reason to exploit me for all I was worth. 'Twas only natural that we became friends in short order." She sighed fondly. Her team, despite doing their best to not react overtly, seemed unfamiliar with this story.
"... Your relationship with Mom was based on mutually-assured destruction by way of blackmail?" I asked, both thirsty for more information about my mom's past and slightly afraid to learn more.
Alpiane waved her hand lazily. "Our homeland was wont to celebrate many of the atrocities it wrought, and yet the facility to which we were assigned, and the research performed within its walls, was kept highly secret. 'Twas not an environment conductive to healthy relationships." Her smile turned wry, bitter. "Allag was a generous mother to her people. She left no belly unfilled, no man unemployed. No land unconquered. No hand unstained." She cocked her head. "Ah, but we have strayed from our topic. Mine apologies. Your Carbuncle, Beryl, was it? I know from Annette that it is capable of some modest violence, and is capable of a few support magicks, but last I knew there are no eikons anywhere on this star. Without capturing the essence of an eikon, you would have nothing to summon, no?"
"I, ah…" I hesitated. "Actually, I have three egis, from three different eikons, that I can summon." I clasped my hands, rubbing my thumb over the joints of my other hand and feeling the texture of the skin there.
Alpiane blinked. Then blinked again. "... Might I ask how?"
"Mom, ah, had some crystallized aether samples from what she called the 'Warring Triad', and she had me sit in a room, well, more of a closet, really, that she lined with aether-insulating material, and filled the room with a portion of a sample, and had me focus on it until I claimed the egi. We only did it with one sample at a time, with a couple weeks between each session, because she said I had to 'let things settle', and because she had to line a new closet in a new building each time."
Alpiane's lips parted midway through my explanation, only for them to press together in a tight line as she clenched her jaw once I'd finished. Then, over the space of a couple seconds, all emotion seemed to drain from her face, leaving her face decidedly blank.
Caterwaul was giving me a faintly horrified look for some reason. Colibri's masked gaze was boring intently into me, while Backchannel just looked vaguely uncomfortable.
Alpiane muttered something under her breath, too softly for me to catch anything other than my mother's name, then shook her head. "The Monsters of Meracydia, eh?" she said with a wry huff of laughter. "I cannot say the might of an egi at our side would be aid I would reject, even if you are, to my eye, as yet unblooded."
I cocked my head as I filed that reaction away to revisit later. "So, where is it that we'll be going to go look for leads on finding Mom that we'll need to be able to fight?"
"Ah." Alpiane's expression snapped back to seriousness. "Our destination lies in western Connecticut."
"Wait," Shadow Stalker interjected, "don't tell me you'll be taking us all to break into the Menagerie?"
"Close! But not quite," Alpiane replied with a small smile. "We will not be infiltrating the main buildings of the Litchfield Containment Zone and Research Facility. Rather, we shall enter the Containment Zone proper, with our goal being the Fissure at its heart, or rather, what lies beyond it."
.o.o.o.
"It's fucking crazy is what it is," Sophia grumbled as we walked side by side. We'd changed back into civilian clothes, with my robes and book stashed in a backpack, and her costume and weapons in a duffle bag. "I know they've got a way past the walls, but even discounting that, and the defenses, and the on-site capes, there's still all the fuck-wild monsters waltzing around in there."
"I know, hon, you've said so a dozen times by now, I swear. I'd almost get the impression you didn't want to go," I teased.
"If you're going, I'm going," she replied, her tone firm and serious in its finality. "I refuse to let you go along with this insane plan if I'm not there to watch your back."
I stumbled, only saved from falling by our clasped hands. "I, um, okay," I managed through my sudden blush.
She let the opportunity to tease me go, and instead fiddled with her phone with her free hand, sending off a text. We stopped in front of a door, waiting, and soon it opened.
"Hey," Emma said softly as she leaned on her crutches while holding the door open. The glossy black surface of her prosthetic leg reflected the street lights' glow, and I felt a twinge in my chest at the sight. "Come in, come in. Tell me how it went!"
Whew. So. Eight months, eh?
Yeah. I blame my ADHD and depression.
Anyway, just wanted to note that this is an AU that's had quite a bit of time to get butterflies a-flapping. For one thing, the Brockton Bay cape scene isn't the same as in canon Worm. Stuff like that.
