Royesland [Full]

[CelticSol]

“I’m just drunk enough to get on my way to making a damn fool of myself, Nikkie,” Jackie says, shrugging, then she adds with a grin, “Give me another three shots and you mignt unlock my tragic backstory.”

Jackie shifts as Nicola slides off her chair, joining her gingerly on the floor, propping herself up. The movement is sharp and painful, and not just because of getting the tar beat out of her - she holds her hands up to her vision, and sees that glass dust and shards have stuck to her hands, digging into her palms and lazily shedding blood down her now tangible skin.

“Too late,” Jackie says, holding her hands out with a helpless shrug for Nicola to witness. Though she’s pretty sure she’s tangible, she makes sure her fingers make proper contact with the teacup before she takes it out of Nicola’s hand. She chugs it, drinking it down quickly and just as quickly propping it on Nicola’s empty barstool, out of danger. Jackie shakes her hands, then gets to work plucking the larger shards out of her palm, “Don’t worry bout me, Nikkie. Laying in a bit of glass ranks damn low on the pain scale of what I’ve experienced. Besides that, armour.”

For demonstration, Jackie pats her own armoured chest, the leather making a deep, bassy sound. Her brow furrowed in concentration or - or maybe it’s something else. Jackie’s brain is starting to swim a little bit, and she wonders if its because she’s been sober too long. Her brain is occupied, trying to stay present but also deep in thoughts that used to feel easier to process, until she opens her mouth, intently picking glass out of her palm as she asks, “You doin’ okay? I’m more used to curses and being cursed than most, so it didn’t occur to me to ask you how you’re holding up.”

 

[theunearthlyfool]

Nicola​

"Uh oh, the tragic backstory. Gotta watch out for those," Nicola joked, not really knowing what she meant but figuring it sounded witty enough.

Jackie stiffly dragged herself upright, producing hands that, sure enough, had glass sticking out of them. "Oh, Jackie. You're ageing me, I hope you know that." Out of habit she reached into her pocket but was pleasantly surprised to find one final purple handkerchief. "Look at that, I did have one left! Use it wisely." She pushed it at Jackie's bloody palms.

"Wow." Watching her slam the boozy tea back was pretty impressive. "Now I can have a proper cup of tea in peace. You're a hero, thank you."

The smile faded into concern when Jackie brushed the new injury off. "That's not the point-" she began, before Jackie asked how she was. Nicola blinked, the threat of tears stinging her eyes again. "Are you kidding me? Jackie, you're fucking intangible, Finn has chicken feet, and Tom doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. I'm fine. It's you three we need to be worried about."

She meant it. Somehow she'd walked away from this, all things considered, whole and unscathed. Facing the prospect of a life without magic was utterly terrifying, sure, but she was alive. The others had fought so hard and were now visibly suffering from their ordeal. They would be for some time, too, unless there was a really good curse-breaker in this little nowhere of a town. Nothing Nicola could do would help, either.

It just wasn't fair.

"...Not that he really knew that before," she amended, letting a grin come back onto her face to cover for the outburst. "I'm all right, thank you for asking. Mostly just worried about you."

Molly​

The Kingdom of Peaches was one of Royesland's neighbors Molly had never been to, and while she'd heard little bits and pieces of what had been happening there, her newfound sister told an incredible story of the adventure she and Cathal's wizard had had there. And what a small world too, that bringing her new friend's lover home would bring her own long-lost sister back into her life.

Molly knew Nicola was telling the truth, despite the suspicious glances she caught Tuesday giving Nicola over the top of her head (a little part of her was extremely pleased that he should care so much). It wasn't just that Nicola looked and sounded just like her, and had many of the same mannerisms. Somehow, Molly just knew. Nor did she harbor any grudge against her for what their parents had done, even if they'd clearly lied to their other daughter about it. She appreciated Nicola's friend Jackie talking them out of having that conversation now; not just because it wasn't something she really wanted to discuss in front of the entire Silver Prawn, but because she didn't want to let herself develop hard feelings against Nicola by starting their reconciliation off on the wrong foot. Was she jealous? Absolutely. That was different from being upset with Nicola for it. For the first time since Godmother died, she had a family; for the first time in her life, she truly felt like she wasn't alone. She didn't want to ruin that.

Nicola's attention was taken by Jackie, who was somehow a ghost without actually being dead, and Molly smiled to see her sister was perhaps more than friends with the boisterous woman on the floor. She didn't have an extensive romantic history herself, but she was a singer; she knew love when she saw it. That was practically her job. So she turned back to Tuesday, to give Nicola and Jackie a chance to talk (for as much as she understood laying down on the floor and staying there, she'd never done it in a bar in front of other people, and had felt uncomfortable letting her stay down there while she and Nicola talked).

She was happy to see he had gotten a drink too and didn't appear to be overly bored, sitting there listening to everything. "Sorry for kind of ignoring you, but I'm so very grateful for getting to take time and catch up with her. And I appreciate your skepticism, but you can stop looking at her like she's gonna reach out and attack me at any moment." Molly laughed. "She really is my sister. I can't tell you how I know, but I do."

Hefting the teapot, she refilled her cup. "How're you doing? None of this was what I had planned when we were here this morning and I said 'let's go do something'." Her face flushed at the memories. "When it really comes down to it, though, I truly have enjoyed spending the day with you. Even if I was…" She hesitated. "Even though I overreacted at times."

Molly sipped her tea, watching Tuesday out of the corner of her eye. His words still echoed in her head- the worst day of my life. Hopefully that the Queen of Cats had kept to the other side of the room and wasn't paying attention to them was enough to show him he didn't need to be as worried about her as he'd seemed.

 

[CelticSol]

Living with another person after so many years of solitude was a constant learning experience.

On Riley’s side, she learned that nothing could be moved, and if something needed to be used, it needed to be returned exactly where it was and as it was, or Lockette couldn’t keep track of anything. The first week, Lockette had black and blue bruises up her leg just from slamming her shins into everything Riley had unknowingly adjusted. Riley was so polite that Lockette swallowed any anger and allowed the moment to pass without comment or expletive.

Somehow. It was odd to force herself into controlling her temper in her own home. On Lockette’s side of things, it was less exact but no less daunting - learning to be comfortable with someone else existing in her space. The townspeople of Royesland typically gave her a very wide berth, so to be brushing elbows every day with another person took time to grow accustomed. At first, Lockette would flinch every time she accidentally made physical contact with Riley. After a week of sleeping stiffly on the couch to offer Riley the bed, like a gentleman, Riley accurately pointed out that it was Lockette’s house, and Lockette should have the bed. And Lockette was comfortable enough that she, for maybe the first time in her life, offered a compromise born out of sharing space during her militia days - the bed was large enough to share, and if Riley had no qualms…

She remembers believing it to be a massive overstep when Riley gave a lengthy pause, but Riley agreed, and Lockette found that nightmares bothered her less when she had someone sleeping steadily beside her.

They found a rhythm over the first few days - Riley helps with chores that were more easily accomplished with eyes and helps cook, since Lockette eats ‘the blandest food ever tasted’. For her help, Lockette charges nothing for Riley to live there and eat the food gathered on the farm, and Lockette splits the earnings from what she sells in town if Riley helped. When the chores for the farm are done, they tread into the woods and complete work on restoring the cottage.

That’s where they sit now - pulling apart the roof’s rotted wood and straw roof to replace it. The floor is just as unstable as the roof above them, and there are times Lockette considers ripping the entire thing down and starting over from the foundation, but even Lockette knows better than to dare make the suggestion.

When the work offers time to be introspective, Lockette considers a question over in her head for close to an hour. Finally, when she has no answers beyond what little she knows, she pauses in her work and asks, “Hey, Riley. You said you really don’t remember anything, but is there anything about your past that you do remember?”

 

[TrashRabbit]

Riley cocks her head. She wipes her brow and sighs, "I had a pet bird. I spent a lot of time in teh woods. I really like piggies. I had a family. My Father was a wood cutter, he had an axe bigger than me. There are some specifics. But it just feels like a very long time ago than forgotten. Why do you ask?"Lockette rarely asks personal questions, and Riley is cut from the same self guarded cloth. These past for days now that they've found their rhythm had contained a sort of peace that felt novel. For some one with no past the future was especially abstract but she hoped it could always feel al little something like this with everydays that felt like she fit in them like a wildflower in a field.
---
For the victorious Royseland irregulars returned from the kingdom of peaches the next four day passed mostly in the form of sleeping, complaining and baffling the local healers. Finn's feet remained Chickened. Jackie continued to drop things through her hands. Nicola remained ordinary. And Tom continued to ask "Has anyone seen my cat, I liked that cat?" With a big sigh anytime the topic changed. It became quickly aparent to the crew where they were and that Tom was not just known here, but strangely beloved. Which is wild, since all three of him knew for sure he was a complete asshole.

On the first morning they all came down for breakfast at a regular breakfast time there was a sense that maybe they had all made some sort of minor recovery from all that. Vidya, made Finn smile even.

What ever came next, at least they'd had some time to sleep unharassed. They were big damn heroes after all.
___

It happened quicker than folks in Royseland their whole life might have believed if you'd tried to tell them. But the sheriff thought of it first, They asked the ratmen camped on the edge of town come help plow the fields. Most of the young folk had gone away to war and they could always use more hands and besides; "They're just get hungry and steal the grain in the winter- they might as well help and make it an honest effort," Donovan had argued. Some times Port of Pearls did Tom proud, even if he hadn't the marbles to appreciate it.
___
The day the ratmen had appeared Pol had ask him "Lets retire you and I fro the day," And quil's brain went immediately to horny jail. Pol had no idea what effect he had over the poor gentlethem. Quil had not so much burst in mist as he usually did but fade, stagger and reform; for a moment going ghost like and their clothes trialing through air until they reformed in them.

Even sedated Pol could undo him even when a pack of unexpected man-rats couldn't startle, shock or scare him from his corporeal form.

Either Pol had to go, or something had to be done.

So it was at Dawn he slipped out their apartments, leaving a note so that Pol would not worry, and head down to the docks. They wore a fine white silk dress with pink ties and looked very fine as they stood there in the mist, like a votive figure of the mother of pearls herself. When a big ginger housecat the size of small dog began rubbing around their ankles they stopped to scritch and coo.

"What are you doing out here, Bathtub?" They asked the familiar local stray.

"Merow," Said the cat plaintively.

Quill scooped them up like a baby and stood. And that was were Sonia found them. "Hello sister," said the fishwoman in a big yellow coat and hat, to the unfamiliar priestess standing on her moorings.

"Hello," quill said brightly, "Are the winds very favorable to reach the temple today?"

She smiles and nods, "Are you in need a of ferry. I'm heading that way myself."

"That would be lovely, Thank you."

"Wait- you're the tea shop keeper-" Sonia says Quill comes closer to board her little sail boat.

Quill smiles, "That I am."

"I mistook you for one of the southern priestess that come through sometimes-"

"I'm also that. Among other things."

"Oho," said Sonia slyly, "What kind of other things."

"Right now? Cold." they say as the she pops the sail open and it catches the cold predawn breeze. She laughs.

"Priestess of the pearl all the same- mystery mystery mystery," She complains, "But I welcome you to my ship. It should only take an hour so to arrive."

"I appreciate it."

Sonia guided the ship across the small white capped waves of the bay of the mouth of the fjord. The temple was built into the back of the island so that form the front it was a mass of ancient ceders ringed around a tall dark cliff- but as they swung around the far side, the statue of the goddess carved into the dark marble of the island stood hundred of feet tall, holding a bright white pearl in her hands, gazing out to sea.

Quill Gasped.

"first time?" Sonia said.

"She's lovely," They said in marvel.

They regretted, never presenting themselves to the order. it had always been an option, it had been why they had dragged their sorry bones to the Port of Pearls to start- but some part of them wanted to put all of their old life behind them. To start something new.

The port and the entrance to her temple were between her feet, and Sonia brought the neatly kept dock with ease.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

There was always more than one way to break a curse, but Cathal had been content to wait for Tom's return. It was the romantic option, he thought. But Tom had come with all his memories gone, and so if Cathal wanted to break the curse he would have to do it himself. And so he left Tom at the inn and followed Quill down to the docks and onto Sonia's boat, and across the water. If anyone could help, it would be the priestesses.

As Sonia brought the ship to dock he jumped onto the railing near Quill, tail twitching. He was not entirely sure how he would explain himself, but he hoped they would recognize a curse when they saw it, at least.

 

[TrashRabbit]

"Would you be kind enough, to return for me in the evening?" Quill asked, petting the fat cat on the railing.
"Oh," she said intrigued, "Sure, be on the dock around sunset, if you're not there I'll come back in the morning."
"You're very kind."
She shrugs.
Quill disembarks and makes their way down the dock to the temple, not noticing the cat had followed until it was nearly under foot.
"What need of a priestess do you have, kitty?" They asked skeptically.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Cathal meowed at Quill in annoyance. You have no idea, he thought, and kept pace with the little tea shop proprietor to the temple doors.

 

[Nimbus]

Apollo

Begins his fresh start anew.

One would think, based on past experience, that Apollo would spiral back onto his earlier loneliness and poor habits without Quill present. But, to everyone's pleasant surprise, the young lord kept his visits to the Silver Prawn all business and breakfast. He hadn't given up trying to convince the innkeep and cook their hand pies could be sold on the road with only a modest increase in price.

It's amazing how much difference a note makes. Once he had read Quill's message, he folded it into a flower shape and tucked it between his robes, just over his heart. Probably a ritual for good luck in the bounds of some kingdom or other. Then, he did the morning sweeping up, set out small treats for the house guardians, rearranged the herbs on display for the captured sunlight to hit them just so, and stoked the kettle-stove fires.

Apollo put all in of his energy during the next few days tending the shop, his budding relationships with its regulars, potions and simples he could make with spare bits of the shop inventory, and whatever small repairs to town he could fix with magic and exceedingly light lifting. Keeping busy, being useful, felt as brilliant as spying a vibrant dawn on the horizon. And the little bit of coin in his purse kept his mind grounded to mostly musing about how he could make more.

Despite this, one thought bothered him. Quill mentioned they were going to the little island off the port's coast. But they did not say how. Perhaps they assumed Pol would know who in town could and would ferry passengers to such a place.

If he still had a ship, he could have sailed Quill to the island. He had wanted to, even though by the time he read the note, its ink had long since dried and Quill would've already been on his way to the Shrine Island or whatever the locals called it. Even though he expected Quill's errand to be, in the greater scheme of Things that Happen in Port of Pearls, pretty routine and uninteresting. Gathering some herb that grew only there, or maybe bottling mildly enchanted spring water. Still, Pol would have liked to go and help where he could.

He consoled himself with the fact that by running the tea shop in Quill's absence and , as always, keeping excellent records in its ledger, he was helping a great deal. But he still wondered from time to time about how he might come into a boat. Not just any boat, but one he could trust in any sort of weather.

Today, he flipped the shop sign to "Out for a minute! : )" and set out to the Silver Prawn Inn for his morning pie and to see who in town knew how to build a boat from the keel up.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Bathtub & Quill​

What a talkative cat Quill thought. It wasn’t strange in his mind for cats to be creatures with to do lists, as it was a common belief in his home that cats were just very small helpful witches in their own right. They arrives at the temple gate and entered the sacred place carved directly into the rock to see that hte priestess with in the long candle lit sea cave hall had already gathered to pray in their white, seafoam and blue dresses and robes. At the altar was not another votive of the goddess of pearls but what was obvious, to the trained eye an incomplete spell forge before an incredible triptych oil painting of the Godess bringing culture and peace to both humans and fairies.

Heads snapped as Quill entered, as tourists rarely came at this time of day- but as quill slide into the sacred space and took up a seat in the rear head turned back to meditation and the haunting hym that filled the space, which Quill realized with delight was mostly a natural sea cave complete with stalactites and dripping sounds.

Cathal sat in the aisle and curled his tail around his paws, watching the priestess and also the spell forge, and waiting for them to finish.

The congregation finished up with the ringing of a loud unseen bell and the priestess began to disperse. One swept down the aisle and scooped cathal up like baby. She smiled at him said, “Well aren't you bold!”

“Mrowr,” Cathal said smugly, and ragdolled in her arms.

“We don’t usually let boys in uninvited,” she scolds him but is still charmed, because he is a very charming cat.

Cathal meowed again. I’m only a little cat, he meant.

“Oh just a little cat,” She says, acting like she understand him perfectly, “A likely story.” She carries him down the aisle back to Quill. “You don’t look like a tourist~”

“Uh,” Quill says, “No. I’m from the south.”

“Have you come to stay?”

“No, I just need a bit of help. I actually gave up being a priestess some years ago- it just felt appropriate to come dressed for the part.”

“I suppose,” The red headed priestess said in a sing song way, “Is this your mans?”

“No that’s Bathtub. The town cat.”

“No this is a man,” She said.

“That’s true,” Cathal agreed. “They don’t know that though.” He still ragdolled in the priestess’ arms.

“Ah, well, if you’re not here about the cat, what brings you?”

Quil furrowed their brow at Bathtub and then reluctantly explained the curse they had suffered since the death of their liege lord.

“ I see, that sucks.”

“Yes,” Quill agreed quietly.

Ohh, so that was why Quill was in Port of Pearls. Tom could have fixed that. “I am here about myself,” Cathal volunteered. “I have business that’s difficult to resolve as a cat, you see.”

“Most business as a cat is hard to resolve,” She told the cat in her arms, “Unless your the king of cats, but he was dealt away with some time ago.”

“Are you- are you talking to the cat?” Quill asked because this was out of hand.

“Yes,” Said the priestess without skipping a beat, “You should try praying about your problems, sister, if you were a priestess as you claim to be I doubt the goddess would not answer your plea. This is her most holly place. This cat though- He will be having a difficult time.”

“I see,” Quilll said.

“Oh no,” said Cathal.

“Best of luck,” Kitty told quill walking towards the exit with Bathtub in her arms. “You however do not have the goddess’s favor. You have the opposite of it in fact. Not even the fairies fancy you-” she titls her head like she is listening, “Oh you are a thief. You have housed the pearl that does not belong to you. You should return that.”

She took three steps out of the temple doors and dropped him unceremoniously.

“How am I supposed to do that without thumbs?” Cathal asked. “And that wasn’t me! Tom took it from Tuesday! I just lived there!”

“That is a poor excuse and you know it. You should have thought about all that before you angered my mother and annoyed a goddess. It's of little concern to me. I will feed you a fish now and then if you decide to stick around. You do make a charming cat~”

“YOUR mother??” Cathal repeated. “She’s my mother??”

“Oh. Well your even stupidier than I could have ever anticipated, brother.”

Cathal stared at her. “Exc--What?”

“Airn slowkill of the brambles promised her first born to the Goddess of pearls as tithe- so...Tada,” she said gesturing at all of herself. Several sisters on the steps below were watching her converse with the cat with deep deep concern.

“Oh,” Cathal said. “I didn’t know.”

She shrugged, “This has always been my home and hte sister havre always been my family. I’ve never been interested in Airne or any imaginary brothers. Though I’m more interested in the idae of having a brother now that you’re a charming cat honestly.”

Cathal sighed. “I hate to disappoint, but I’m very tired of being a cat,” he said.

“Well chop chop, better return that pearl then? Hmmm?” she said coyly.

“I still don’t have thumbs. And no one else can understand me. So don’t hold your breath.”

She crouched down in front of him smiling knowingly, “Not really my problem,” She said booping his nose.

“Hmmm. I think you’re not very good at this big sister thing,” Cathal said.

“I’m an orphan~” She said unbothered.

“Well, good for you. Ma turns her children into cats sometimes,” Cathal said sourly, and started back for the docks.

“That must suck,” She said with sympathy.

“Ugh!” said Cathal, and went to wait for Sonia and sulk.


As the sun began to sink beneath the wave Quill finally emerged and joined them at the docks, seeming in a fine mood. They looked out to see and gave a twirl in their long silk dress and laughed as it billowed out. The high priestess had been a little touched, and difficult to talk with her insistence on talking at the cat, but she had been right.

The goddess of pearls was very kind and their life was about to take a turn for their efforts.

 

[theunearthlyfool]

Not knowing what to do with themselves or each other, Molly and Nicola kept their distance from one another that first night. Molly went to bed early, although she spent it tossing and turning over all the things that had happened in just one day. Nicola knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, despite how bone-weary she was after today. She drank through the innkeeper's supply of black tea, staring into the fireplace late into the night, until it was just a pile of glowing embers.

Despite their lack of sleep, both were early risers, and awkwardly met in the Silver Prawn's dining room the next morning. It was Nicola who suggested they go for a walk but Molly who led the way. They spent the rest of that day walking and talking, filling in the blanks in their lives: the things they half-remembered, questions they'd always had about themselves, things no one else had ever understood before.

"But what now?" Molly asked.

The two redheads were standing on a rocky beach near the docks, attempting to skip stones on the water. This isn't to say it was still; though not particularly rough, the waves crashed upon the shore with a rhythm Molly found to be quite musical. Neither of them were any good at it, either, but it was something to do while they talked so they didn't have to make eye contact, because eye contact was the worst.

Nicola sighed deeply, breath hitching in her chest. "I don't know. I don't know if my magic's gone for good, if it'll come back slowly or if this is a curse that could be broken. But…" She brushed hair out of her eyes where the breeze was trying to pull it out of its ribbon. "I built my whole life around magic, it's the only thing I know. I don't… I don't know who I am without it."

Molly watched her, sympathy heavy in her heart. If only she could do something; if only she could give her own magic to her sister and thus be rid of what had long felt like a curse to her. She echoed Nicola's sigh. "Well... if it's not something your wizard friend can fix then I don't know, either. I'm sorry. Although come to think of it, there's another sort of wizard who works for the tea shop, I think. Or maybe Tuesday knows someone who could do something." Though asking someone even fae-adjacent for help is likely more trouble than it's worth.

Her tone was nonchalant, but Nicola seemed relieved for a change in topic. "What's the deal with that guy, anyway?"

Face flushed with embarrassment, Molly busied herself looking for a good skipping stone. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno, he just was with you when you showed up yesterday. Did I hear Vidya say something about a faerie king?" He certainly had the 'chaotic force of nature' vibe for it, Nicola mused to herself.

"Oh. Yes, he's the king of magpies, apparently." Molly looked slightly pained, remembering her dramatics at the waterfall. "But he's a human person right now? Because he pissed off your wizard friend, I guess."

"Wait." Nicola turned to her sister, her lips curling in amusement. "That was Tuesday? The Tuesday? The one Tom never fucking shuts up about?"

"Uh… Yes?"

She gave an almost witchy cackle. "Oh my stars, that's wild. That guy is the bane of Tom's existence," Nicola explained, "His nemesis; and I do mean like, hangs a portrait of him over his bed levels of nemesis. I swear, I know more about Tuesday than the prodigal boyfriend. Wow." She laughed again. "Huh. So that was the legendary Tuesday."

Unaware of the complex levels involved in having a nemesis, Molly did at least think she remembered the name Tom being cursed by Tuesday once or twice in the time she'd known him. "Oh, but he's not prodigal- the boyfriend, I mean. He got turned into a cat but the wizard, Tom, didn't know and thought Cathal had left him, I guess. And for some reason- I'm assuming Tom thought Tuesday had something to do with that? So he got mad and turned him into a man. And then left for that war you guys were fighting in."

The only sound for a long beat was the waves drumming their melody on the rocks.

Finally Nicola said, "What?"

"Yeah, I dunno. I think that's what happened, anyway. That's basically all just me piecing the story together from things Tuesday's said." Molly gave a big shrug. "Cathal obviously can't talk because he's a cat, and part of the spell on Tuesday is that he can't say exactly what happened or that he's under a spell. You know, wizard nonsense."

Well, that explains some things. "Oh, believe me, I know from wizard nonsense. And this is still probably the weirdest little town I've ever been to or even heard of." Nicola tossed a rock at the water. "I read a lot, too, so. That's saying something."

"I mean, I've traveled all over Royesland, and you're right: Port of Pearls is definitely different even from other very magical places, I think. But… I really like it here."

Nicola considered the long, rocky beach leading to docks full of colorful boats; the steep cliffs of the fjord, forest visible at their tops; the island of the Goddess of Pearls across the water and how she still thought she could sense its sanctity, even from here. It was beautiful, and also a kind of peaceful she hadn't experienced for a very long time after being stuck in war-torn Peaches. "...It's stunning," she agreed. She turned and made her way to a long, smooth piece of driftwood nearby. "Figure the odds that you'd be here at the same time as me."

Given how the sister she hadn't known existed before yesterday had said she was brought to the Port, it did seem a remarkable coincidence. Which made it feel all the more like fate to Molly. None of this what she'd been seeking when she'd come here, but despite what an emotional merry-go-round ride it had been, she was glad. "Yeah, I'm really just passing through. Not that I planned to leave soon; even if I hadn't stuck my nose into this mess with Cathal and Tuesday, I intended to stay here for a little while. Now I need to make sure they get through it."

Sitting down had somehow made Nicola feel more tired than when they'd been wandering the outskirts of the Port that morning. She leaned her elbows on her knees, chin in hands. "How noble of you," she yawned. "Who knows how long that'll take, with me here useless and Tom losing his memory."

"Hey." Molly put the rock she lifted back down over the tiny family of crabs it had revealed when she grabbed it. "You're not useless. Maybe you can't use it right now, but you still know a lot about magic, right? I'm sure you and Tom can figure something out."

That's what Tom had said too, although Nicola was kicking herself now for not catching the bluff in his voice. "Optimism is nice. You keep that up, I don't have the strength for it right now."

"Oh, dear." Molly came over and sat on the log next to her sister. She wanted to reach out and give her some kind of physical reassurance, but wasn't sure what was appropriate for someone who was in many ways still a stranger. So instead she fidgeted. "Listen, I don't know diddly squat about magic, but it's magic. It's supposed to do wild, crazy, impossible things, right? That's like, half the point. So I know it seems hopeless, but you can't give up, okay? Jackie said you were the most magically competent person she knew. You can fix this- all of this. I believe in you."

Flushing at the invocation of Jackie's name, Nicola looked over her shoulder at her sister and saw that same stubborn frown she got when she was determined to do something. She allowed a little smile to come onto her face. "Well. If you're so goddamned certain, I guess I just have to believe you, then."

"I'm very goddamned certain!" Molly exclaimed, the pitch of her voice rising. She laughed, and Nicola broke into a grin as well.

"Okay," she said, as much to herself as to Molly. "Okay."

They sat together on the beach, watching the waves and boats come and go, and the quiet between them wasn't awkward. It was really nice, actually, they were both somewhat surprised to find. After a short time, making poor decisions in her sleepiness, Nicola even scooted closer to Molly and put her head on her sister's shoulder. It seemed like it should be too much for someone she'd ostensibly just met, but in fact she felt deeply comforted in a way she never had before. Molly, though surprised, was comforted too, and wrapped an arm around her sister. Giving her a little squeeze, they sat like that for a long time.

She thought Nicola had dozed off when she heard her quietly mumble, "Hell's bells, Mol, you have fucking bony shoulders."

Molly's laugh echoed out across the water.

 

[CelticSol]

Lockette doesn't really have a good answer to the 'why' of the question. "Curiosity," Is the answer Lockette settles on, rolling the sleeves of her flannel up her forearms to keep out of the way of her work. The roof was so rotted out that they'd settled for ripping it down and building a new roof from scratch, and at this point, were installing the new base layer. Lockette pats herself down for more nails, finding none, and swears quietly to herself.

Since two were working on the site, Lockette left the small, easily lost items for Riley to keep track of, and so she turns to Riley, "Riles, can you grab some more nails for me?" She asks, extending her open palm out to Riley, the movement pulling her sleeve and showing the entire length of her inner arm -

- And exposing the platinum, reptile-like silver scales lining her skin.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Cathal​

His task would have been a laughably easy one if he had still been in possession of a voicebox and a pair of thumbs, but he was not, and so it was maddeningly difficult. Probably his sister had known that, because she was charmed by the idea of him as a cat more than him as a person.

Perhaps his excuse had been poor, but it had never seemed like a problem, before. What did it matter if Tom had the pearl instead of the priestesses? He was still keeping it safe, and his safekeeping drove Tuesday mad, and it was all a great joke.

It was admittedly less funny now that he was the butt of it.

In his favor was the fact that Tuesday had gifted the pearl to Molly in a fit of twitter-pattedness, because Molly thought kindly of him. True, she thought kindly of everyone, even deposed fairy kings, but in practical terms this meant that if she caught him she would not try to eat him as Tuesday might.

Cathal waited until Molly and Nicola had gone out of the inn, and Tuesday had gone off to sulk, or eat dirt, or whatever it was fairies did when they had been turned into men, and then made his way into the inn and up into Molly's room. He was not sure how he would get the pearl out of the inn, but that was a problem for later. It was not hard to open the door. He was very good at doors, even without thumbs.

The pearl was not left anywhere obvious, and for a terrible moment Cathal thought Molly might have taken it with her, but he found it at the bottom of her pack, after he had wiggled it open, knocked it over, and crawled inside, spilling out a camp cooking set and extra socks out onto the floor. It spun out, as large as his head and shining in shades of pastel pink and purple and green where the sunlight through the window hit it. Cathal pawed it to a stop gently, and then considered his options. Perhaps if he got a basket he could drag it?

Where would he get a basket.

Frustrated with the whole business, Cathal pawed it gently out of the room and down the hall, batting it between his paws carefully. It was not a fast way of carrying it, but it went. Cathal felt very pleased with himself until he got to the stairs. He stopped the pearl and peered over the edge, considering how best to get it down. His tail twitched and nudged the pearl just enough that it rolled over the top step--

THUNK!

THUNK!

THUNK!

With every step the pearl thudded solidly before bouncing down to thud onto the next. Cathal flinched at the noise and dived after it, but he missed it going down the steps. At the bottom it pinged against the inn's wall and careened merrily through the dinning room, rocketing under tables until it finally came to rest in an upturned stein with a delicate chime as it it the glass.

Cathal swore and trotted over, unhappily pawing the pearl out, and getting his paws sticky with beer for his trouble. But he rolled it into a big cloth napkin someone had left behind, and holding the corners in his mouth, gracelessly dragged it behind him.

It was going to be a long damned walk to the docks.

 

[TrashRabbit]

Tuesday

unfortunately for Cathal the thing that disposed Faerie kings did while they were turned into men was similar to what they liked to do while faeries- and for Tuesday this was chiefly to sit on rooftops and quietly judge the townsfolk below. That was the job of birds, especially corvids, to keep men humble. So while Molly and Nicola had absconded down to the shore, he had prowled around town and found himself on the teashop's roof. There was a host of goo spirits in the place that knew him as he was, and while they were not so helpful to him personally they were a comfort.

He sat at his leisure, just a weird guy in a cable sweater in no shoes on the roof narrating under his breath what he thought of the big rat-mans trying and failing to trade a big log for a hunk cheese in the market. He was some what glad he did not have to deal personally with the influx of Xanthielex's refugee creations. He'd have probably recruited them himself- at least he thought he was, that seemed a reasonable thing to assume he'd do- but he was a man now and being reasonable was starting to come easy.

So back to Cathal- it was hard to miss a giant cat playing pinball with a holly relic through the big windows of the inn across the way.

"Oh."

He stood and navigated the beamed beneath the thatched roof and hopped to the roof of the empty barrel makers shop and kept pace with the little cat with his little bindle.

The houses here were close together and Tuesday easily manuevered across them with a grace and easy that made it suspicious to take him for a man, despite his knit cable sweater.

Just as Cathal to whithin site of the docks, He slide down the terracotta tiles of the fish monger's wealthy home and jumped to a paves with a hop skip grace that would be familiar to Cathal in his true form.

"That's funny," he said to the cat, "I could have sworn Molly left that in her pack~ Hmm?" He siad it with a smug, hands behind back pose, taking several high legged steps towards him, with all the pomp and circumstance of a magpie come to harass a large predator it despised.

 

[TrashRabbit]

Riley

"Ah, ye," Riely said patting herself down for where she put the packet of nails on her person. She took in the metallic sheen of Lockette's arms with the casual subconscious air of a woman who had spent unremembered decades among the fae- and then continued digging around her belt pouches for the requested items. And It wasn't until she was putting the hand full of nails into her hand and she took a second look that something in her mind tagged it with an exclamation point.

"Lockette," She said carefully, "what do know about the faeries around here?"

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Cathal​

Of course. Of course nothing could go right, or even simply well. Cathal arched his back, the hair on his spine all sticking up and his tail floofing tremendously, and he hissed at Tuesday around the napkin in his mouth. He knew Tuesday had been a man too long to be afraid of him, even if he was a very large cat, but he hoped.

Even if Tuesday could understand him, he'd want to stop him. Mostly because Cathal was certain Tuesday wanted him to be a man less than he wanted him to be a cat. (Probably Tuesday would have preferred him as a sparrow, or perhaps a chickadee.) He weighed his options. He could run for it--but weighed down by the pearl Tuesday was surely faster. Or he could fight, and risk Tuesday stealing the pearl back in the process.

Cathal carefully stepped over the pearl so that it was under his belly, which was not a terribly comfortable place to be, and then let go of the napkin and made a loud and angry noise. And then a louder and more pitiful one, in hopes that someone might hear and come and rescue him.

 

[CelticSol]

Lockette​

"I know enough to generally give them a wide berth," Lockette replies, tucking all but one of the nails offered to her into a pocket, "Tricky. Prone to dealing out hexes and curses for minor offenses and insults. They don't like me coming into the fairy woods, so I generally keep away when I can help it. 'M surprised they haven't given me trouble yet."

Lockette hammers a nail into keeping the base in place, but as she pulls out a second nail, she tilts her head, "Why do you ask?"

 

[TrashRabbit]

Riley

"You seem to be the type to know," She says evenly, "As I'm certain I used to be the type to know. You don't just-" here she gestures wildly at all of the house and herself even though she knows lockette can't see her as finishes saying "Pop through time in royesland for no reason, you know?"

 

[TrashRabbit]

"Oh boohoo cry me a river, Thief," Says the fairy king in absolute delight as he clearly winds back his foot to punt the over sized cat into next Tuesday. Get it.

 

[CelticSol]

Lockette
​

Lockette’s hands go still. Her heart freezes in her chest, her palms sweating profusely all of sudden as the implication Riley lays at her feet. Lockette goes for calm, keeping her expression smooth, though her voice shakes ever so slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

[TrashRabbit]

Riley

"Uh, like atracts like? What do I know, this is why I don't say much. My father always siad I was a litlte touched its all just nonense in this head here, never mind," She says when Lockette's discomfort becomes overt. She is certain, having seen the peak of platinum scales that Lockette is no ordinary person, though the revelation awakened the certainty that neither was she. She's not worried about what Lockette might be becuase she has a sense that lLockette has been honest with her nature and disposition and she too is the kind of person other people aught to be more worried about- she isn't good at deep introspection- so she shrugs. This all might as well be happening .

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Cathal​

Once he was flying through the air, Cathal wondered, really, what other outcome he could have expected. He twisted in midair and landed on his feet, sore and unhappy but all in one piece. He yowled furiously at Tuesday and darted back for the pearl.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Finn and Vidya​

It was their second day in Rosyeland, and their second morning hunting salamanders. Why they were hunting salamanders, Finn was unsure. Vidya had not explained when she had gone out, and even if he had had a voice to ask, he wasn’t sure he would have. It was better than sitting around and moping about his feet. And his voice. And his arm. And everyone else’s general malcontent. So salamanders.

Vidya had purchased a pair of large wellies that she had then magicked pink, and a big net, and a little iron cauldron as her supplies. She had purchased this all of course with coins from her pockets and she had another day until those coins turned into leaves in the shop owners coffers- not that she was concerned with such things. She may have been bound by Xanth but she still had the small powers as she referred to them.

So away she went into the creek, turning over rocks and subjecting Finn to various monologues as she went.

“Should I keep the crawdads I find? Do they eat crawdads this far north? They’re very scrawny, Finn look how fucking itty this crawdad is,” She said bringing it over tohim in both hands.

Finn leaned over to look at how itty the crawdad was. He made a little gesture, trying to fit both, “how should I know if they eat them here?” as well as “they’re your crawdads” in it, and sure he failed. He did not have wellies, because he had chicken feet, and they were very cool in the creek.

“You’re right, how would you know,” She said, in that way where she seemed to know what he meant, either because she knew him or because fae were intuitive like that. She then tossed it back into the creek and sighed.

She then began going through the multitude of salamanders she had collected in her cauldron, inspecting each one THOROUGHLY before letting it go and sighing in a very Victorian fashion through the process. Finn watched her silently for a moment before making a little questioning hand gesture. He did not actually expect her to explain anything, but one had to try.

“Oh, I test them all one by one so that if I do find him, he has to suffer in the pot for a long while,” She says like this makes any kind of sense.

Finn put his hand on his chin and continued to look at her, because that didn’t make any sense at all.

“I know I know,” She said like he was judging her, “That’s cruel.”

He shrugged and made a little gesture that was mostly wrist.

“...Oh.” She said looking at him critically, “Are you telling me you're as dumb as the others? I leave you alone for three years and you go thick as molasses on me?”

Finn squinted at her.

“Oh dear, poor Finn,” She said like he was a small drenched cat.

Finn made a small “go on” motion with his hand, still squinting at her.

“No no let me have this for a moment,” She said with a laugh. She smiled and went through checking her salamanders for quality with a beutific smug smile- faeries could only feel one thing at a time and she was enjoying this.

Finn sighed deeply and silently at her.

“Okay okay,” she said letting the last amphibian slip from her grasp back into the creek, “I don’t think any of the others mentioned taking care of Xanth once he returned to his true form? Which means he is somewhere. And I’m going to find him. Put him in this little cauldron. Harass him. And then take his power. He cannot hide forever. I will find him. And I will eat him.”

Finn looked at her for a long moment, eyebrows raised in surprise. And then he shrugged and nodded and gestured, alright then.

“Here I thought we were on the same page,” She said shaking her damn head.

Finn shrugged again, this time a little apologetically.

“I was wondering why you weren't helping me but I figured you had chicken feet I wasn’t gonna push it.”

If he had a voice, Finn would have drawled out his most sarcastic Thanks, but since he didn’t, he just sighed deeply again.

“Oh sweet thing, it’s gonna be okay listen once I find him I can undo all your curses and all your little friends’ curses too. Wouldn't that be stellar?!”

Finn considered this a moment before nodding and shaking a forefinger at her, because she was right.

“I’m very clever, I know, thankyou, you’re very welcome.”

You’re insufferable, Finn wanted to say, but settled for rolling his eyes at her.

 

[theunearthlyfool]

Nicola​

After Molly and Nicola's conversation on the beach, it was Nicola's turn to go to bed early, and she slept well: so well, in fact, that she slept through the entire next day. Following this had been a couple days of visiting healers; all of whom, in rather short order, had directed them back to Tom for such serious curses as had been placed on her and her friends.

But this wasn't as much of a dead end as it first seemed. Molly had been right: perhaps she couldn't use magic at the moment, but Nicola still had the knowledge of a damn fine sorcerer, and she was going to put it to good use. She announced her plans toward the end of breakfast.

"All right, so I've been thinking- Finn, don't give me that look- I've been thinking about how we try to get rid of some of these curses, since it doesn't seem like anyone else is able to help us. Maybe he doesn't remember, but we keep hearing rave reviews about a certain local wizard." She smiled sympathetically at Tom. "If this wizard was as prolific a curse-breaker as we've been led to believe, surely he kept some kind of record of his cases we might be able to find some answers in."

Nicola grabbed her journal off the table and gestured with it. "And even if there's nothing like that, I'd be willing to bet he's got a halfway decent reference library. So basically Tom, I need you to take me up to your tower today. Partially just because it would be weird for me to go snooping around in your stuff by myself. But also because I don't want to encounter any wards or traps you might have set against intruders, especially when I have no magical defenses. Plus, who knows? Maybe going home will help jog your memory." They'd been all over Tom's hometown and he hadn't recognized any of the villagers who were so bizarrely endeared to him; not even the big orange cat Molly claimed was his long-lost boyfriend. So although it seemed unlikely, Nicola was still hoping being in his own home with his own things would start to bring more of their old Tom back.

She stood up. "Anybody who doesn't tag along, meet us back here for supper? So we can go over what we find." There was no doubt in her voice that she'd find something useful for at least one of them; Nicola was determined not to return empty-handed. Jackie, having nothing better to do, went with.

"I'm thinking the more superficial curses will be easiest to take care of," Nicola was thinking out loud as they approached the wizard tower. "Finn's feet, his voice, ideally Jackie's ghostliness. I'm not worrying yet about who will do any casting, I mostly want to find… information…" She trailed off when they came close enough to see the tower's ruination. Only so much could be just for the aesthetic; especially the front door sagging against its frame. She suddenly felt guilty for dragging him up here. "Uh. Anyway, after you, Tom."

Past the front entry it was mostly just cluttered the way every wizard's space she'd ever been in always was, though some of the workshops had been left in quite a mess. Nicola diplomatically refrained from directly asking Tom if he really lived like this, but couldn't keep it out of her tone when she commented that he might have been burgled. It didn't take overly long to locate his case files, although her eyes widened when she cracked one open.

"Is this…" Nicola squinted at the page. "What language is this, man? Good grief, your handwriting sucks." Her own journals were messy, true; every free inch of page filled with diagrams, sigils, and sketches. But she thought her own handwriting was at least legible, even if sometimes her e's looked like c's and u's were difficult to tell from v's. This… would take some searching.

Nicola paged back to the beginning of the file, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Without looking up, she pointed to the other end of the shelf of files from the one she had grabbed. "You start at that end. Hopefully you can at least still read your own writing. Look for anything that sounds like, well, us. Jackie, feel free to help if you think you can get your hands on one."

With that she was oblivious to the rest of the world, engrossed in analyzing Tom's work with the occasional snort or low 'hm' of approval.

 

[TrashRabbit]

Tom P. Finch

The good news was that yes, Tom could infact for the most part read his own hand writting. On the other hand the tower itself joged nothing in mind. Not even a sense of familiarity, and that seemed, wrong? This was supposed to be his home. Even if he couldn't remember it shouldn't it still be vaguely familiar? that on top of years and years and years of patient logs left a heavy weight in his stomach.

"Nicola," He asked, "How old am I?"

He had a fat notebook from twenty years ago in his hand, and he hardly felt he looked more twenty something. He had spent a good amount of time with his reflection the first morning in the inn, as that too had been unfamiliar to him.

 

[theunearthlyfool]

Reading Tom's handwriting felt like being back at university again, poring over ancient grimoires written in both a ridiculous cursive and an out-of-date vernacular. Basically, it was difficult to get through. But Nicola had adjusted relatively quickly and was getting faster at skimming through the case files. The curse she was reading about now (after she finished yet another section complaining about the king of magpies) was starting to sound like what was happening to Jackie-

She became aware of Tom saying her name, and almost ignored him in her excitement over maybe finally finding some answers. But something in his voice caught her attention.

"Nicola," he looked up from the thick notebook in his hands, meeting her eyes. "How old am I?"

At first her face twisted in puzzled amusement. "What are you talking about?" She glanced down to the cover, smile fading when she read the year scrawled in his same terrible hand. It was from twenty years ago.

"Oh." Nicola was pretty sure Tom was a bit older than her, and she was almost thirty. But other than that? "I… don't know, actually. Uh…"

Seeing the decay of his tower, it had briefly occurred to her that they had spent a long time in Xanthielex's time dilation. Now that they were out, she'd realized she didn't know exactly how much actual time had passed. But she'd shrugged it off: Molly looked the same age as her, which she ought to since she was only a few minutes older than Nicola. That had been enough proof that any difference was inconsequential.

Tom looked Concerned, and anytime he actually let it show he was worried about something usually meant she should be worried about it, too. "Like… early thirties?" Nicola looked to Jackie for help; the two of them were thick as thieves, after all. "Maybe??"