Fantasy Cinders and Ashes (Completed)

[ArcticFox]

"Perhaps I'll see you at a different time." Danaer nods politely, then walks away, "Have fun."

At first glance, it seems that you have descended into a raucous pub, or perhaps a carnival. Books litter the room. Someone is standing on the table. Another member of the society is shaking their fist at the speaker, who is repeatedly ringing a brass bell in an attempt to gain the floor.

Your eyes are drawn to Wren, standing near the back shelves, arms folded, evidently intent on observing the spectacle. He is now dressed in slightly more respectable, clean attire, and his cravat is elegantly tied.

The level of noise increases as a round-faced, bespectacled gentleman makes an apparent point of contention, and strikes his fists upon the table to emphasize his words. A thin person with a pale, pinched face and hair cropped short lunges forward, brandishing a thick book. "Bainborough, Bainborough!" They are shouting.

Finally, Wren bounds up onto the table, hands outstretched. "Excuse me," he says, voice raised to carry over the din. The noise level subsides slightly. "That will have to wait. There is someone new I would like to present." He gestures toward you, "May I present Miss Vivan Price, recently returned to Cinders. Vivian, this is Rodey, Armitage, Esterling and Miss Joram. Miss Montague is from the city. Let's be civil."

He clears off a chair for you and takes his place at the table.

- Introduce yourself.
- Talk to Wren.
- Have a seat.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian watched the members of the philosophy club shout and argue— there was little else she could do. Who was Bainborough, anyway? She’d stepped into quite a different world, that was certain... As the ruckus died down she nodded to Wren, grateful for his acknowledgement. It would have been difficult to interject herself, if she had wanted to.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Vivian said before she took her seat, although after that spectacle it seemed a bit silly to try to keep up any pretense of decorum. Oh well.

 

[ArcticFox]

The philosophers greet you, some with more enthusiasm, some with less, but soon they all return to their discussion.

"So. The subject at hand," says a respectable-looking older person in a sober coat - Armitage. "Will and matter."

"The will is tied to the matter," Rodey says earnestly. "You cannot have one without the other. Hence, the Lost." The philosophers shudder visibly, save Wren, who looks thoughtful.

"But what about Eccleston's conclusions," Esterling counters. "We are not only matter."

"Will is not tied just to flesh," the fourth person, a lady in a violet coat, says. "How else would we feel it in our spirit when there is loss?"

"The Fallen have matter," Wren puts in. "They are still made of flesh." He makes no mention of his own practical foray into the topic that you have witnessed the last time. "Vivan, we have not yet heard from you. What is your opinion on the topic?" He meets your gaze.

- Mention Wren's experiment.
- Talk about the Fallen.
- Talk about your encounter with the demon.
- Talk about your encounter with the fae.
- Something else.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian shot Wren a slightly accusatory glance— she hadn’t gotten to observe for as long as she’d liked. This was a conversation that extended far before her arrival, and she lacked the context for how they got to this point or the background to discuss it without sounding like a complete fool.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had her own experiences to draw from, but how wise was it to share that openly? Wren had yet to make any mention of his own experiments... she gave him one more sideways look before bracing herself and going ahead.

“Just from simple observation of... encounters,” she began, measured and precise. Who’s observation it was didn’t necessarily need to be said; while it was the best first hand experience she had, she didn’t want to discuss her encounter with the Fae at length. Or at all if she could help it. “It seems that will and matter are connected, certainly. That much is obvious. But that doesn’t mean they are the same— perhaps it’s just that those connections can be severed, or infringed on.”

 

[ArcticFox]

Wren nods, only slightly frowning, and the other philosophers exchange glances. "I agree." He says, then turns to the discussion.

Rodey and Esterling continue their debate, but both end up coming to a sort of understanding after a moment. Given the rowdy beginning, what follows is a very civilised discussion. Examples and counter-examples are thrown about at high speed, and much sherry-wine and cakes are consumed. Before you know it, the meeting is over, and it is time to say your goodbyes.

Wren lingers, very carefully closing and putting away all the books. He does not speak to you while the others are in the room, but the set of his shoulders and careful listening posture make it evident that he is waiting for a chance.

- Help him with the books.
- Wait in the hall.
- Leave.

 

[Ezri]

The debate seemed to go well enough. She hadn’t been kicked out or berated or anything of that sort, although perhaps she didn’t make much of an impression in the end. Regardless, it had been an interesting evening and she was glad to have come.

After the meeting drew to a close, it wasn’t difficult to miss Wren’s restlessness. And it was a bit uncouth, she thought, that everyone was content to have their host clean up on his own (not that they seemed to concern themselves with etiquette much). But it was as good an excuse as any to stay a while; she picked up a stray book and glanced at its spine before looking for its proper place.

 

[ArcticFox]

You assist him in tidying the room, silently. Soon, the room is empty, save you two.

Wren fixes you with a determined glance. "Well, Vivian. What did you think?" His air is one of detachment, which makes his eagerness to know your true opinion all the more evident.

- Answer.

 

[Ezri]

“Oh, I enjoyed it. Although they are an... excitable group...” She said, nonchalant in spite of Wren’s stiff demeanor. With all of the shouting, it was no wonder they kept being kicked out of their venues. “I do feel a bit out of my depth, but I think that I’ve learned a few things already.”

She looked at him, pleasant and expectant. While he hadn’t done anything particularly extraordinary today, compared to when they met, he was still certainly an odd one. “What did you think?”

 

[ArcticFox]

"I thank you," he says, and bows slightly. When he straightens, a slightly silly smile lingers on his face. "Your good opinion means a great deal to me."

Somehow, though you have not known each other for very long, this rings true.

"You will fit in nicely. And I would be glad to see you again." He says as you part ways warmly.

--

Something stirs in your blood, unknowable. Magic, rich and strange as honeyed wine, floods your senses. Moving as if in a dream, you wander out into the street. You do not know where you are bound, but your feet lead the way, and you are content to watch the houses pass.

You blink and now you are here. But here is not exactly anyplace that you had counted on visiting - nevertheless, you know, this is the place. You stand at the corner of two streets, in the centre of town, near the theatre - a strange house stands in front of you. A strange mist has crept up all around you, though it was dry earlier.

There is something in your hand - you are gripping it so tightly that it cuts into your skin. You unfold your fingers, but do not recognise it - there is no name that you can give it, for, in your world, it is a thing that does not, should not, need not exist.

A hazy, pleasant fog muffles your lingering worries. The Woodbond uplifts you - you cannot remember when last you felt so happy. It is a certain giddiness that is a shade away from melancholy. If you do not keep smiling, you may well cry. Your task slips into your brain, and you are surprised that you did not perform it sooner. For it is as if it was always there. You must place the object in your hand in the second-floor study of this building.

Easy enough, perhaps.

- Examine the object.
- Don't look at it.
- Feel it with your hands.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian did not remember arriving at this house, or deciding to come here at all, but it was probably because that was not a decision she made. This would be frightening if not for her unnatural mood— maybe later she could feel that underlying unease to its fullest extent. For now she had a job to complete. Rationally, in her right mind, she would have many objections to breaking into a building, but right now it felt like simply a matter of course.

She looked at the object in her hand again, despite not knowing if it was something she could even recognize. What it was was probably not important— the motivations of the Fae were completely foreign to her still, and her opinion on the matter didn’t seem like a factor. Her task was her task regardless of whether she understood it or not.

 

[ArcticFox]

It is a small, rough object, grainy to the touch, like a piece of wood. It is full of magic.

However, enough consciousness remains to you to know that you must not get caught performing this task. The consequences for that could be grievous indeed. You do not know who owns this building, and, on one side, there is a high garden wall.

The magic in your blood tells you that here, if you are caught, there will be consequences, to your health and your spina.

- Sneak in.
- Pretend to have lost something in there.
- Wait until you are certain there's no one in.
- Climb up the back wall.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian closed her hand around the object again. She had no clue what it could be, but she couldn’t imagine that it was anything good. Not that it mattered.

With a set jaw she looked back to the house,l. She didn’t have a good pretense for just asking to come in, and she doubted she could come up with something convincing on the spot, considering she didn’t know who’s house this was and she’d never been here before. No, the fewer questions the better, and while it was still undeniably risky to sneak in, it would be better to be in and out without anyone knowing.

That said, it would be much easier to sneak in if she knew there was no one to catch her. Vivian hid herself as best she could and watched the building from afar. Ideally she could go in while no one was there, but at the very least perhaps she could gauge how many people, if any, she would need to avoid.

 

[ArcticFox]

A charwoman seems to be cleaning the place. You settle in to wait until she has finished, but miscalculate and surprise her. She shrieks and you are forced to retreat the way you came.

Your throat tightens until you drop the object by the back door. You cannot do any better at the moment, pursued as you are.

You flee into the gloom.

You wander home, feeling emptied, hazy. The dull ringing of bells still resounds in your mind, but faintly.

The bite of the forest in your blood is infinitesimally weaker, as if, by taking action, it has been leeched away.

But the quality of that daze that came upon you lingers still.

- You hate the feel of magic.
- You find it comfortable.
- You find it strange, but harmless.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian made her way home with haggard breaths— it took a while for her heart to stop racing. Her plan had not gone as she hoped, but she had done what she could. She was no cat burglar, she should have expected as much. Hopefully she wouldn’t be recognized by that woman, and her compromise in where she chose to leave the object would be acceptable...

The concept of magic itself was not frightening to Vivian, or at least she didn’t want it do be. It was an interesting thing, after all, and despite herself she was drawn to things she didn’t quote understand. But it was a dangerous thing, as she now knew very intimately— the way that it felt was not unpleasant, but knowing she’d wandered through the night like a human marionette was a thought she resented.

 

[ArcticFox]

There was something warm in the sensation of magic, a different peace than you have ever experienced before. Your steps are lighter as you proceed home. Perhaps, in time, you will conquer this burden, after all.

--

Your next task comes two days later. In the dim reaches of the night, your heart lurches, as if pulled by an invisible hook. The bargain has summoned you again.

An inaudible voice is calling you, urging you to go outside and pick up the strange package wrapped in roots and brambles left in a furrow - you see it in your mind's eye as clearly as if through a spyglass. Where you will take it, you have no way of knowing.

The voice threatens to wrap around your gut, shaping you to its will. But you hesitate, and, surprisingly, can do so. You are not wholly unprepared for it.

It appears you have more awareness of the woodbonds and the magic of the bargain, this time. The faster you fulfill your end of the bargain, the faster you can get rid of its claws. And yet… this is a unique opportunity to attempt to learn more about the magic that binds you, and the nature of bargains themselves.

- Resist to practise your willpower.
- Hurry up and be done with it.
- Go slowly and learn more about magic.
- Resist to learn more about magic.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian hadn’t expected the magic to feel different, and so soon. Had her debt already started to diminish after she completed that mission? Even as she sat in the dark, involuntarily pulled towards something beyond her, the difference gave her pause.

Being able to resist was a comforting idea, but more than that she wanted to test the reaches of the magic that bound her. How strong was it, really? What would happen if she didn’t go? Her inaction would not go unpunished, that much was sure, and in the end she would inevitably complete her given task for her own sake— but how much would it let her get away with?

 

[ArcticFox]

As you stay where you are, the silence seeps in. The compulsion to move is growing stronger and stronger, but you keep your feet anchored to the ground. The bite of the wood wraps around you, tighter and tighter, and, if it were a rope, it would nearly cut into your skin.

Your head spins, and you fall to the floor after a time. There is wetness at the end of your nose - blood. A terrible pressure is squeezing your head, your heart, your limbs. But after a few more moments, it lightens again.

You have exerted your will over the bond, somehow. But after the initial exhilaration, you realise that the bond itself weighs even more heavily in your awareness. And your chest hurts as spina are wrenched away from your purse and your spirit. You feel numb, emptied, but not compulsed to do the Fae's bidding any more. After a moment, you pass out.

--

Sunlight streams through your window - you've overslept. Bruno knocks on your door, enters holding a letter. "Excuse me, Madam. A summons has come. It is from Mr. Holwood. Mr. Antony Holwood."

Mr. Holwood is a lawyer who is supposed to transfer the deed to the property from your late guardian to you in order to let you liquidate it, if you ever manage to get out of Cinders and back to the city.

Bruno places a pot of chocolate on the table, along with a plate of rolls, butter, and preserves. "I thought you might prefer to go soon," he says.

- Thank him.
- Smile at him.
- Don't say anything.
- Ask about the lawyer.
- Ask something else.

 

[Ezri]

Her experiment may not have been immediately fruitful -- the pain was difficult to bear, and as much spina as she had it was not a resource to be wasted lightly -- but Vivian did not regret it. Until her bond was gone it would be in her best interest to follow along to the best of her ability, and she knew that. But it was a relief that she could fight it if she needed to.

At the knock at her door that morning Vivian got up with a start, in an attempt to look as presentable as one could, all things considered."Thank you, Bruno. You're always such a big help..." she said sincerely, the sight of a warm, sweet breakfast already putting her in a better mood. It was good to appreciate the little things. The liquidation of the property seemed almost trivial now; there was little point if she couldn't leave. Still, even in this bizarre new reality these matters still had to be attended to. "What is Mr. Holwood like? Do you know?"

 

[ArcticFox]

Many times, your guardian told you how they could not do without Bruno's aid and respectful, dignified presence.

Bruno's smile is genuine, and you can tell he is thinking of your guardian as well. "My pleasure, Madam. Mr. Holwood is a learned man, he will be able to assist you in any worldly matters, I'm sure." He bows and departs.

You examine the letter. Holwood writes:

There is a meeting of the town council today, and I should be glad if you would join. It could benefit the process.

The meeting is a good chance to impress the most important members of the council and to finally speak with Roland Grufford as well as your lawyer.

- Go.
- Don't go.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian throughly enjoyed her breakfast as she mulled over the contents of her letter. With everything that had been going on she hadn’t even considered it, but attending a town council meeting had plenty of perks. Of course there were people she needed to speak to in particular, but making an appearance would definitely be a good way to stay in the good graces of some of the more influential folk in general.

And she should consider that— despite what she’d said before, Jocasta really could make her life difficult if she wanted to... Vivian sighed. She’d better get going, then.

 

[ArcticFox]

The meeting is held in an ornate, richly panelled room lined with books. The office of records and the municipal archives are adjacent, and you catch a glimpse of leatherbound volumes before the door swings shut.

The room is filled with well-attired gentry, milling about. You spot Colonel Ayax, of course - as magistrate, he could hardly be absent from such an occasion. His countenance is solemn as usual, but his presence acutely intent behind his mask of formality. There are others as well, though: Lady Eugenie is standing by a potted fern, speaking animatedly with a person in a mauve riding-coat. You recognize a few other important persons by sight, if not by name. Most are much older than you, and, from their dress and habit, clearly well-established in the town. That gentleman over there could be the Master of Ceremonies, the lady there you saw dancing a quadrille at the Assembly a few nights ago.

- You are at ease here.
- You feel out of place.
- You are excited to learn about how the town is governed.
- You are eager to learn some secrets.

 

[Ezri]

It would be a little naive of her, Vivian thought as she looked at the calibre of the other people gathered here, to think that she fit in with this group. Colonel Ayax was a welcome presence, considering their relatively cordial relationship, but other than that she was surrounded by people much more experienced and powerful than she was.

Still, she wasn’t intimidated. She paced a few steps around the room, listening to what scraps of conversation she could hear. Personal gossip wasn’t really her concern— rather, it would be interesting to find out what this council actually concerned itself with in a town like this...

 

[ArcticFox]

As you move towards the centre of the room, Antony Holwood, your lawyer, appears by your side. "I am glad you could come," he says with characteristic quiet mien. "I'm sure you have many questions."

Before you can answer, a short, sharpish middle-aged gentleman scurries in the door. "Pardon, I am late," he says to the room at large. You have never seen him before. You would certainly recognise him if you had, for he looks acutely uncomfortable. His gaze is constantly darting back and forth, as if taking the full measure of the room.

Antony makes a minute movement, nudging you, barely noticeably. "Roland Grufford," he says under his breath. "I have to speak to him first. Wait here a moment." He goes over to Grufford, greets him amiably, and gestures back at you.

Grufford shoots a brief glance in your direction, and looks immediately away again, as if something about you causes him fright. You cannot hear his reply. Something swirls in your gut, wrenches your attention away from the scene at hand and to a deeper feeling stillness.

There is something off about Roland Grufford.

- Observe him for a few moments.
- Ask one of the council members about him.
- Listen to your gut feeling.

 

[Ezri]

So that was Roland Grufford; he wasn't what she expected. Perhaps strangeness simply ran in the family, but Danaer and Wren had never made her feel so acutely on edge, despite their idiosyncrasies. Maybe she was just being paranoid, and she shouldn't rule out that possibility-- Holwood didn't appear to be bothered by him, for instance. But she couldn't imagine why she would feel so strongly if there were no cause for it, even if it wasn't immediately obvious.

But it was better to err on the side of caution. The only person she could think to ask without seeming to obtrusive was Colonel Ayax, and although he might not be the gossiping type she felt she could trust his opinion, if he deigned to give it.

"It's good to see you again, Colonel." She approached him innocently enough, glancing back at Grufford despite herself. "But... is Mr. Grufford very involved with the council? He looks even more nervous than I am."

 

[ArcticFox]

Such a query verges on rude, but your warm, humble demeanor smooths away any offense there might be. Colonel's eyes grow round as he looks at Mr. Grufford, and he shifts away.

"He has recently returned to Cinders after some time in the city on business - not unlike yourself, Madam. But I daresay you two are very different sorts of persons." His tone is apologetic, it is clear that he views you as the more favorable party. "It is rumored that Mr. Grufford lost his entire fortune - lost it in an instant, Miss - and then, overnight, it was restored. Good luck for him, he could have-" But then he shrugs, looking in the direction of the Fallen.

The ringing in your ears subsides and you find yourself able to breathe normally again. There are no words to describe the strange occurrence. When you look over, Antony Holwood is beckoning. "May I present Miss Vivan Price to you? Miss Price, Mr. Roland Grufford."

Up close, Mr. Grufford appears even shiftier. He is constantly checking your expression, and Mr. Holwood's, as if for hints of some deeper meaning. And he keeps glancing back at the door, as if he wishes to escape.

- Respond.
- Watch him closely.
- Something else.