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Fantasy The MPC Rushes Story, Cont.

Frostine helped Lisbeth down the stairs, the Writer leaning heavily on the arm of her Creation. Once at the bottom, she saw her companions making to leave Darien's study, and she cleared her throat.


"Hold a moment, if you please," she called, "I'm afraid we haven't time for sightseeing. We must be departing at once."
 
William turned at the voice. The Writer had returned.


Seeing Frostine supporting Lisbeth was... odd. He was glad that they had been separated successfully. But they still seemed like two parts of the same person to him. No doubt that was merely the result of him only having known them when they were conjoined.


At any rate, Lisbeth's color seemed to have improved. He was also glad to hear the urgency in her voice. This world sat ill with him and he was eager to be away. William frowned. Did he detect a faint tremor at the edge of reality or was it his imagination? He was reminded all too uncomfortably of Black Iron House's departure from the shores of the Lake of Unshed Tears. Staying too long in that place had greatly stressed the House. Was their presence a stress on this world as well? Or were these tremors an indication of further-reaching damage beyond this world?


He tried to tell himself that the tremors were only his nerves and an overactive sense of foreboding.


"I am pleased to see you feeling better, Ms. Walpurgis. Thank you for all your aid, Madame Frostine." Here he paused and frowned. How do you wish someone well in front of the person who is going to decide their fate? "I hope that your story has a happy ending."


William turned his attention back to Lisbeth, "At any rate, I agree, we have other business to attend to. Business that cannot wait if you are feeling fit to travel."


He glanced around at their little group.


How to put this delicately?





"Does anyone have any suggestions for how to facilitate our return to the place and time we departed? I would prefer something a bit more... deliberate than the means by which we arrived."
 
Blott paused, her hand inches from the door handle. "You're ok!" She brushed by William again, rounding Genevieve and stopping to hover just on the edge of Frostine and Lisbeth's personal space. "You both are, I'm...really glad." Her hands hesitated, frozen in the air before she reached out and gave Frostine a sort of tap-pat. The magic that made up her life force bounced unpleasantly up her arm, and she couldn't quite keep a straight face, but hopefully no one noticed.


Backing off quickly, she wiped a thin line of drool from her lips and smeared it on her shirt. Well, that didn't stay clean long. Oh well. Too much emotion, too much anxiety..."I was hoping Frostine and Darrien might know a way to port us safely back, but otherwise, I don't see a problem with how we got here."


She swallowed a ball of ichor and grimaced. Was it just her, or was this place feeling...wobbly?
 
Something was amiss, just on the barest edges of her perception. Lisbeth shook her head; she didn't have time to be feeling unwell.


"I ought to be able to get us out of my- that is, this world," she said, choosing her words carefully, "but as far as getting us back to where we came from... that is going to be a bit tricky. We were able to get here because of Frostine's innate connection to this place, but none of us possesses anything to directly link us back to Shanghai. I don't doubt that we can do it if we work together, especially now that my abilities are restored..."


She held an arm across her stomach and leaned forward, gripping onto Frostine with her free arm as a wave a nausea washed over her. She sensed her friends moving toward her and let go of Frostine to wave them off.


"I'm all right," she insisted, though she hissed it through clenched teeth, "I'm all right."


She took a breath and straightened, leveling her companions with a serious look.


"At any rate, our first order of business is to return to Shanghai, by whatever means necessary. Then I must speak with you all about our mysterious friend... Arkadious Grimoire."
 
"If you can get us away from this world," Genevieve said, "I think I can jump us back to Shanghai. I was able to get back last time on my own. You would all just need to hold on to me. But, Lisbeth..."


She trailed off as Lisbeth turned her eyes, watery and bloodshot, toward her. The Writer's face was pale; she was obviously unwell. While they needed to return to Shanghai immediately, perhaps now was not the time to argue with Lisbeth about Arkadious, who Genevieve certainly did not count as a friend. Was this hooded stranger with the glowing eyes leading them or luring them? Experience had taught her it was safer to suspect the latter, but Lisbeth's soft, wide-eyed look whenever she spoke of him clearly said she would follow him to the ends of all worlds.


She sighed. They could argue later.


"Are you sure you're well enough to go?"
 
William almost held his tongue. None of them would thank him for his brusqueness, and already he had trod on their patience too many times today.


Another tremor... I'm sure I felt it that time.





"It doesn't matter if she is well enough to go. We are, none of us, well enough to stay here." He tried to keep the bite out of his voice but the growing certainty that their presence was doing irreparable damage to this world sharpened his tone. He could see the mistrust in all of their eyes, and the annoyance as well at his cavalier attitude towards Lisbeth's condition.


"Please," he softened his voice even as another tremor sent a file of panic scraping across his nerves, "Please, we cannot stay here." He furrowed his brow, "It is as much for Lisbeth's sake as my own that I say we need to leave."


William cast an imploring look at the Writer. Surely, she at least, must on some level understand how their presence endangered all that she had created.
 
Lisbeth swallowed. That something that was nagging at the edges of her senses wasn't just an effect of her condition, then. Clearly William could feel something as well, and it was causing him obvious distress. She tried to clear her mind and reach out with her senses, and she felt it. The waves of nausea - they were coinciding with ripples through the very fabric of this reality. The pit of her stomach dropped.


"William is right. Whether I'm well enough or not doesn't matter at the moment," she replied, "We don't have a choice. We need to leave at once... before our very presence tears this world apart."


She turned to Frostine and flashed her a wan smile.


"Thank you for everything... and I'm sorry," she told her, pitching her voice low, "I'll put everything in this world right somehow, even if I need to go through several ReWrites."


She summoned her Book and reached into her pouch for her pen, but she paused as her hand brushed the pocket watch there. It was pulsing rapidly, giving off heat that she could barely stand, and a glance into her pouch confirmed it was glowing brightly...
 
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"Perhaps I can be of assistance..." A figure said from the shadows before stepping forward. The girl was wearing brown knee high boots, grey and black stripped thigh-high stockings, ruffled black bloomers that merged into a fitting one-piece jumper, sleeves ending in giant stuffed claws and a hood pulled up with two small little red horns, two glowing indigo embers peering out from within the hood...


Humming softly while pushing up the sleeves of her jumper, her hands appearing from hidden holes, the girl starts weaving and waving her hands, seeming to form shapes in the air from the ether of Darien's study. Glyphs and runes slowly etch on her forearms and hands, burning with the same blue-violet glow that the embers within her hood burn with. The air around Lisbeth, Blott, Genevieve, and William started to hum and cackle, as little arcs of electricity jumped and sparked between them. The girl was chanting but no one could hear what she was saying for the cackling of the lightning. Suddenly, they all felt a lurch followed by a sharp tug, as if the world had dropped out from under them and then a hook embedded itself within their navels and snatched them violently from the Kingdom of Snow...



When Lisbeth opened her eyes, she was back in her room in Shanghai. Next to her was William, face down on her bed, awkwardly tangled in her skirts. Wait, her skirts? Glancing down, Lisbeth noticed her sudden lack of clothing. Squeeking loudly, she glanced around and noticed that both Blott and Genevieve were also in her room, various garments missing, and cawing from the floor was Blott's Crow, wearing a miniature pair of Blott's pants, one of Genevieve's socks and Lisbeth's blouse. Fading giggling coming from the window prompted Lisbeth to look up where she saw the girl vanishing in a crackle of indigo lightning...
 
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Blott raised an arm, gesturing incredulously at the spot where the strange girl vanished. Then, with a sigh through her nose, she let the arm drop to her side limply. Ok, what the hell was that? She frowned. Why didn't her bird actually say it?


It was then she both saw her crow...and felt the draft. Slowly, she looked down, turned around, and slowly realized what had happened. She had to admit, it was almost clever. In their varying states of undress, they couldn't exactly run out and start trying to find the little weirdo that popped them back to Shanghai. Still, if she had know this was going to happen, she would have worn nicer, and slightly less embarrassing underwear. Her current pair was a pastel pink with a pattern of small white bones scattered all over them. Still, she was better off than Lisbeth! Blott flushed a little purple and averted her gaze. William didn't look like he had lost anything, from what she saw out of the corner of her eye, and he probably at least still had pants, but the Artist didn't want to risk it.


Instead, she reached out for her crow. Well, come on then. He looked back at her almost pompously, and hopped back a pace. That can't be comfortable. And you're a bird, you don't get clothes. The crow puffed up (moreso than he already was) irately and refused to budge. Blott threw up her hands in defeat and plopped down on the edge of the room's bed. This was it, she was becoming immune to weird. Surely it couldn't get worse than this.
 
"Oh, damn it all!" Lisbeth screeched in indignant rage, clutching her arms around her bare chest as her face turned scarlet. This ember-eyed figure was one that they hadn't run into before, and apparently she was quite mischievous...


Beside Lisbeth on the bed, William was beginning to stir. He began to disentangle himself from her skirts, and one of his hands brushed her thigh, sending a bolt of electricity up Lisbeth's spine. William appeared to have lost his glasses somewhere (was the crow wearing a miniature version of them too?), and as his head was lifting Lisbeth squealed and, holding her chest with one arm, shoved William's head back down into the bed.


"D-Don't look!" she barked over his muffled protests, "Don't you dare look! I-I-I'm indecent!"


She cast around desperately for something to put on as she continued to hold William down. Of course! The bed sheets! She let William go and scrambled to the top of the bed, whipping the sheets over herself and drawing them up to her chin.


She'd never been so mortified in her entire life. As tears threatened to crest the corners of her eyes, she muttered, "All right. Fine. You can look now..."
 
"What fresh hell is this?" Genevieve shouted. "And who the hell was she? And why wasn't she wearing any..."


She trailed off noticing her companions' lack of garments.


"...clothes."


She looked down to take stock of her own dress and giggled realizing she was only missing a sock.


"Serves you all right for laughing at me during that whole ink incident," she teased.


Blott's crow was hopping about, occasionally lifting the foot on which Genevieve's now-tiny sock resided as though to admire the effect. "I'm tempted to let you keep that, Crow. I prefer silk stockings anyway."


But as Lisbeth screeched at William, Genevieve realized the Writer was on the verge of tears. Unwinding the scarf from around her hips, she held it out to Lisbeth.


"Here, you should be able to fashion a top from this, at the very least, until we can get you all properly dressed again."


She bit her lip and tried not to smile, she really did. But of all the things that had happened to them, this was the most ridiculous.
 
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Daisy chose not to hesitate as she trailed after the cerulean eyed woman. Indeed, the alleyway definitely didn't seem like it was there before, but she said nothing, all she knew was that this woman seemed to promise a certain safety for her that she had not expected nor ask for. Trailing behind the woman with a respective distance between them, but close enough for she was highly afraid of something terrible happening to her in such short notice, Daisy stared at the golden locks at the woman's sides. The strange dress as well, as she wondered if she were to be ready for a fight, and how, if those things showed up again or what this woman had in store for her, most likely the second option. Daisy, albeit talented, lacked the urgency to fight like she was supposed to. It's been too long since she deemed it necessary, and her life was just fine until now. Now she was attempting to recount everything she learned in just short notice, while wondering who and where this woman was taking her. Chewing on her bottom lip, Daisy lifted her ivory hair and assembled the strands into a careful bun in the back of her head, tucking loose strands back as she saw they were approaching a small light in the distance. "Oh dear, I wonder if i'm dead already and this is all a dream," she muttered in unintentional mandarin whilst clutching the paper beneath her breast. Its very existence attempting to remind her that she was, indeed, alive.

 
William found himself face down on a bed. Obviously the strange entity had whisked them away from Darien's study. For a moment he lay very still and simply listened to the sound of his own breathing.


No tremors, no distant straining, no sense that the world was creaking around them.


In spite of himself he heaved a sigh of relief. They were somewhere safe, or at least somewhere that wasn't going to be pulled apart by their very presence.


He could hear his companions stirring as well and they sounded a bit distressed. He realized that he was tangled in something and that his spectacles seemed to have gone missing. He tried to get loose from the fabric that was wrapped around his waist and felt his hand brush someone.


Lisbeth gave a shriek and pushed Willaim's head back against the bed and his own cry of surprise was muffled by the mattress.


"Don't you dare look!"


William froze. He suddenly had a pretty clear idea of what was the matter. He kept very still while the others rummaged and argued. Could this have been a result of the means by which they had traveled from Frostine's world to this one? He had never heard of such a phenomenon. Perhaps if there was an instability in a world's perceptive integrity then the act of-


"All right fine, now you can look..."


Lisbeth's voice broke the chain of his thoughts and he sat up carefully. The room was a blurry mess but he could at least make out Lisbeth, Blott, and Genevieve. Given the way that Lisbeth was standing, he could tell that she was still not decent and he turned his head away with a deep blush coloring his cheeks. He stood carefully and did his best to step out of the skirts that were now gathered around his thighs, as he hardly had the waist to support them.


Once he had them off he awkwardly held them out towards Lisbeth, still keeping his eyes locked on the corner of the room.


"I, ah, don't suppose anyone has seen my spectacles?"
 
Lisbeth snatched up both scarf and skirts and turned her back to her companions. She tossed her hat aside for the moment and looped Genevieve's scarf around her neck, then wrapped it around her chest as a sort of halter top before donning her skirts once more, grumbling all the while. She cast a glare at Blott's crow, still hopping around and preening in its fancy new outfit. Genevieve's sock, Blott's trousers, Lisbeth's blouse, and... ah.


"Blott's crow appears to wearing your spectacles," Lisbeth drawled at William, "along with the rest of our missing garments."


Lisbeth took a step toward the bird, reaching out.


"Come on, now," she snapped, "It may be your size at the moment, but it is still my blouse! Give it back!"


If she could get it off the crow maybe she could somehow return it to its usual size, but the little black bird seemed to have other ideas. It hopped away, flapping its wings to try to fly up to the desk, but Lisbeth's tiny blouse was constricting it. It managed a wobbly half-flight-half-jump up to the chair, and in doing so it lost William's glasses. They bounced across the floor once, twice, and then came to rest at Lisbeth's feet, back to their original size once again. Lisbeth scooped them up off the floor and looked at them in her hands, then over at the crow.


"Of course we mustn't hurt him," she growled, "but someone had better grab that bird..."
 
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Blott slapped both hands over her mouth to stifle the giggle that bubbled up. Well, at least they knew how they could (probably) get their clothes back. Her bird cawed and cocked it's head, regarding the rooms occupants with a sort of pompous amusement that bird-faces shouldn't be able to make. Doing her best to hide her smile, and failing miserably, she tried to wave the bird over. C'mon, now you can't even fly.


Ignored. Not just ignored, but sassed as the crow hopped around in a circle on the seat of the chair, fluffing out and flapping its wings. Hardball it was then.


She considered the situation. Blott herself didn't mind the lack of pants, save for the draft, but no one but Genevieve could go anywhere in the state they were in. With this in mind, Blott jumped, uncoiling like a spring from the bed. She landed, stumbled, but still made a bid for the bird, her crow clumsily flap-flopping up to the back of the chair. Blott, aiming for where the bird was instead of where it was going to be, missed spectacularly, her momentum flinging her past the chair, into the side of the desk, and onto the floor.


"Ok, who's next?" Blott wondered if the crow was speaking for her or itself that time. Both, she figured as she wobbled to her feet.
 
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Blott's crow was being feisty. William suppressed a growl of frustration as it awkwardly flapped above the blurry heap he was pretty sure was Blott. He was a hunter damnit, he certainly wasn't about to be shown up by an over dressed crow.


Thinking fast he snatched Lisbeth's top hat from the bed. When the crow circled back he sprang, all his expert reflexes firing at just the right moment as he sailed-


- right past the bird as it darted aside, depositing the half blind monster hunter atop the still flailing Artist...
 
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It all was happening so quickly. Blott made a leap for the bird but missed, crashing to the floor by the desk, and then William was moving quicker than Lisbeth would have thought possible as he grabbed her hat and went after the crow himself. For a moment it seemed to Lisbeth that everything slowed down, and she was awed by the look of fierce determination on William's face. William Blackiron, Monster Hunter. Surely this was his true self: a hunter of great skill and agility, and Lisbeth felt a surge of gladness in her breast that this man was her ally-


Until he missed the crow completely and fell in an awkward heap onto Blott.


Time resumed its normal pace as one of William's long legs took Lisbeth in the shin. She stumbled forward and almost caught herself, but her head was still swimming and she was not yet steady on her feet. She went down with a yelp and threw her arms forward so as not to land on William's spectacles in her hands. The breath went out of her as she instead landed on William himself chest-first, and she was suddenly quite glad for Genevieve's borrowed scarf...
 
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The crow surveyed Genevieve, daring her to try to grab him as the rest of the party squirmed and groaned on the floor. Genevieve shrugged.


"I told you you could keep the sock."


The crow cocked its head, and Genevieve made to sit down on the edge of the bed. Thinking he'd won, the crow turned to preen. In one swift motion Genevieve straightened up, twirled around, leaped over the pile of her friends on the floor and landed on one foot with two hands around the bird's middle as he squirmed indignantly.


"Don't mess with a dancer, little bird."
 
William Blackiron, living embodiment of every mortified, mumbled apology ever uttered, desperately attempted to somehow disentangle himself from Blott and Lisbeth without actually touching them. It was not going well. Everywhere he tried to put his hands just seemed like it was going to make things worse. He gave a yelp as Lisbeth managed to dig an elbow into his back, but at least she seemed to have levered herself part of the way off of him.


Finally he managed to wriggle out from between them and regain his feet. He was pretty sure that Genevieve had managed to catch the crow so he turned back to offer a hand up to Lisbeth and Blott.


"I am terribly, terribly, sorry ladies. I do hope you can forgive me."
 
"Normally a guy at least has to buy me a coffee before he gets to grab me there, you know." Blott quipped, though her crow still wiggled in Genevieve's grip.


Feeling less like a pancake now that William has extricated himself from the pile, she rolled over and sucked in a big lung full of air. With an apologetic pat to what she thought was Lisbeth's thigh, she pressed down on whatever part of Lisbeth had managed to get under her and sat. A quick check of both the Writer and the...William, no ink stains, good, good.


She accepted the offered hand of help (careful to offer her own right hand) and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. "And check it, you were all up on me and nobody died." She flashed William a thumbs up and a raised eyebrow. "Genevieve, hold him tight, he's pretty sturdy, and I'll- oh, Lisbeth, you okay down there?"
 
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Lisbeth was still trying to get her breath back as William started squirming his way from between her and Blott. She clamped down on a scream as he twisted and pressed a hand against her chest, telling herself that it was merely an accident, but when he turned again she made sure to "accidentally" elbow him in the back as she began to make her own way off of him. She winced as Blott pushed off of her thigh, and then it seemed that they were all disentangled at last.


William was mumbling a string of apologies as he helped Blott to her feet, and he offered a hand to her as well, but for the moment Lisbeth was content to simply sit on the floor.


"- Lisbeth, you ok down there?" came Blott's voice from the crow that wriggled in Genevieve's grip.


"I just... need a moment," she replied, waving a hand in her companions' direction as she propped herself against the wall, "I'm afraid I'm not quite yet ready for so much... excitement."


She closed her eyes and took slow, deep breaths as she tried to tell her senses that, no, she was not going to somehow fall off of the floor.


"And I will accept your apology, William, in the form of a lovely dinner sometime when we are not in dire peril... whenever that might be," she muttered, "I swear, I have never been so humiliated in my entire life..."
 
Back Alleys of Shanghai: Daisy continued to follow the mysterious hooded girl, while her fiery eyed companion followed from behind. She occasionally glanced back to check that they weren't being followed and was always met with the piercing stare of the hooded figure behind her, much larger than the girl she followed. Without warning, the girl in front of her stopped, causing Daisy to bump into her. They were stopped at a small door to a nondescript building that Daisy must have passed a dozen times but never noticed. The girl was talking quietly to an elderly woman, but not in any dialect that Daisy was familiar with. Before she could ask, the girl looked back at her, nodded towards the old woman and then disappeared into the shadows with her companion.


The kindly old woman escorted her into the quaint little building, what appeared to be an inn. A commotion could be heard from upstairs, lots of crashing and cawing. Vaguely familiar cawing. The little old woman pointed to a set of stairs that lead up and then disappeared behind her desk. Curious and clutching the note to her breast, Daisy slowly ascended the stairs to the second floor, where a door stood slightly ajar down the hallway, from which the noises where coming...
 

Daisy followed the woman absent minded, her heart beat the only sound she could hear as her blood began to pump fanatically; she hadn't realized the woman had stopped until she bumped into the her back. Looking up, her brown eyes watched as the woman would converse in a language she was not familiar to with a small elder, thus taking a moment to examine the building before her. It was strange, like most buildings in Shanghai, but what surprised Daisy was the fact that she hadn't seen it before. After the two woman had talked, the little old woman ushered her in, escorting her into the quaint, yet petite, building as it later materialized into an Inn.


From the foot of a set of stairs, Daisy could hear voices, almost familiar to her before she thought of the group she met before. The elder pointed upwards before attending to her desk near the door. Daisy watched her, brows furrowed before she looked heavenward. Clutching the note to her breast, Daisy tentatively scaled the flight of stairs. It groaned beneath her weight as she went up. Once she made it to the top, she turned towards the door that was left open at the end of the hallway, a warm glow on it's wooden frame as she approached it. Her body was so shocked, yet strangely comforted, she hadn't paid much attention to the words being said inside the room; rapping her porcelain fist with a patient breath she hadn't realized she held until the door cried as it pushed open to reveal part of her arm and face as she stared at the wooden door for moment. Her cheeks flushed as she held onto the note as if to brace herself for the worst.

 
A knock and the slow creak of the door startled Genevieve so much that she squeezed the Crow, still clutched in her hands, a bit too tightly. The bird let out an angry squawk and attempted to peck her hand, though she hardly noticed.


Standing in the doorway was a woman, slight and pretty, with a look of wide panic written on her face. Genevieve had to admit the scene in Lisbeth's room would have given anyone pause--a crowd half-dressed at best, tumbled on top of each other, up to God only knows what. But this was not a look of surprise; it was terror. Genevieve knew that look, had felt it burning in her own eyes too many times. With a flicker of recognition, she realized this was the woman who taken them off the streets of Shanghai when they were such a mess. Daisy. She'd been so distraught before she hadn't paid close attention to the appearance of their guide.


"Ouch!" she said as the Crow interrupted her thoughts by aiming a hard and well-placed peck between her thumb and forefinger. "Oh, here, you naughty thing." She tugged off Lisbeth's blouse and Blott's pants. As soon as the clothes were off the bird they expanded to their usual size, and Genevieve tossed them to their owners.


"Keep the sock," she grumbled, releasing the bird and rubbing her maligned hand.


"Daisy," she said, turning to the woman who still haunted the doorway. "Sorry for all of...this. It's a little hard to explain. But come in. You look out of sorts. Is Mr. Nope with you?"
 
The crow flew around the room, relishing its freedom (and new sock) as Blott caught her pants and toed off her boots. She hoped the sudden size change hadn't damaged her phone, but she wouldn't know until she got her hands on a charger for it. Somehow, she felt she wouldn't find one for the next several years...or decades.


The new arrival at the door startled her, but she vaguely recognized the girl and ducked her head in a friendly, acknowledging sort of way as she bounced in place, shimmying her pants back on. Re-clothed and still once more, her bird returned to it's usual perch on her shoulder. "Genevieve, is your hand ok? Should I flick him?" Ah, but Gen was already talking to the new girl. Rose? Chrysanthemum? Ah, she was bad with names. She raised her hand in preparation to thunk the crow on the beak for good measure anyways, but...


"Um, excuse me, who is missing, um..." She picked up her bird, who had an oddly mischievous look in it's eyes. It gave no resistance as Blott removed something her time-traveling friend hadn't noticed. "I don't even want to know how this worked with it's tail but..." she eyed flicked to William as she held up the offending article, "These are decidedly male 'underthings'."
 

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