Witch Hunt

I'd forgotten about the nightmares.

Burning flashes of red that leave no imprint and impart no memory or reason, leaving me with nothing but a vague sense of import, and a yawning sense of morose loss. Despite the horror, that I'd once sought to divine, I'm almost glad to have them, now. At least, in contrast to another night spent with the past knocking at my door.

My skin is sticky with sweat and grimes, I'm covered in bruises, I likely smell foul, and... the sides of my face hurt? Strange.

As I sit up, the unfamiliar bed cot I find myself on shifts in tensed-spring precarity. I am uncertain where, precisely, I am. The rotted wood interior of some dismal little shack, it looks like. Sheets of cheap cloth hang from the ceiling and divide up the room in semi-sections of sleeping arrangements, with more cots like mine laid out in corners. A glass-cased armoire gives sight to rows of familiar tinctures and tonics: healing supplies, wound-cleansing instruments, fever-reducing elixirs, bandage rolls. Metal side-tables are topped with surgical equipment inside aluminum trays, and blood stains sink into the wood floors.

It's a hospital fit for a beggar. Complete even with a doctor in a white bird's mask, checking supplies across the room. A shanty medical office. I'm in Stilton.

Before I can say a thing, the hungers burn inside of me once more. It's impossible to say if it's getting worse, or only feels that way because I went several days without, but the aching void inside of me may as well be an implosion. I am crushed beneath the falling rocks of violent thought; a landslide of depravity. The cot and the cheap blanket I'm under twist around me as I thrash as if drowning.

When it's over, I can only stare into the now empty building, wondering where the doctor went, and pull my knees to my chest.

I wish I knew why it had to be me. Why every time I think I have an answer, it turns to sand between my fingers. Why whenever I think I have a good thing, I ruin it, or it ruins me in kind. I never asked to be cursed. I never really wanted to live forever. Gods, I... I just want it to stop hurting all of the time.

The door opens, and... and there she is. Alabastra, in the doorframe, clearly having rushed here, from the manner in which she's slammed her way inside. I don't know how she...

My mind pulls the story back together. I was in the sewers, with Vail... Panic bids I twist around the space in a wild glance. He was taking me here. And somehow, now we're both here, and...

Well, I suppose the answer is obvious. She did what she always does.

Alabastra steps forward, trepidatious, the doctor walking in behind her but standing apace for privacy. "Hey...", says the half-elf.

"... Hi."

She walks up to the cot. She's concerned, as she often is when she looks my way, but there's something else, too. Curiosity. Like she's not sure, entirely, who she's looking at. Do I... look different, or something?

"Moodie?", she asks, unsure.

I nod. I have not, unfortunately, spontaneously become someone else. "Still here."

Her eyes dart briefly, then she nods, patting the side of the cot. I slide over to give her room. The rogue sits beside me, staring ahead for a moment. Then she turns, with a tiny grin in an offer of peace that would've infuriated me just days ago. "Said I wasn't goin' anywhere, right?"

Damn it. Damn you, Alabastra Camin. Despite my best attempts, my vision starts to water. "Alabastra..."

"Yeah?"

"I... think I am... not... well." And the second the admission leaves my lips, I break apart. All of my pretensions are gone, and I collapse onto her shoulder. Angry, desperate sobs clench my throat, and even squeezing my eyes shut fails to stop the tears. Gods dammit.

My whole body curls up against her, utterly broken by the weight of it all. It just hurts, all the time, and I can't put the genie back in the bottle and pretend it doesn't anymore, and I don't know what to do. I hate feeling so listless, open to the haphazard whims of fate's enmity toward me. I don't know what possibility is worse; that I did deserve all of it, and I am uniquely made to suffer - or that I didn't, and the cruelty meant nothing. The question grinds me further into nothing as I collapse into her side.

"That's it...", she says, "Let it out. 'Bout time." Her hand runs up and down my arm. I can't tell if I hate it or need it.

"I... I miss my parents... and I... I am a curse, and I'm sorry", I barely manage to say through my sobbing throat cinching my words. I should feel pathetic for breaking like this. But I can't stop. I am unzipped. "I'm broken."

A sharp intake signals her frantic response. "You're not broken, Moodie. Nobody's broken."

"I am. I'm terrible... I'm nothing. I'm a monster." The words come out barely intelligible through my haggard throat. "I deserved this. I'm cursed."

She bids I turn with a light pull at my arm, and I look up at her. "Hey... we already said we forgive you. You don't have to... dwell forever."

I shake my head. "You're... you're not the only person I've hurt, Alabastra." Gods damn that watch, for bringing her back into my head. Even now I'm still a coward. I can't face up to the whole of it. "And I'll hurt you again. It's all I do." It's not too late for her. She can still pull herself from this storm. The universe will strike me again, at some point, and I can't guarantee she won't be in the blast radius. It's only responsible, that I push her if she won't go.

Yet I can't bring myself to anymore. I didn't need time away to know that. And I will never be the way I was with the watch to force it, not again. If she won't go, then we're stuck, now. There's nothing left but the fall.

For a moment, she seems shocked by my words, an unexpected variable in whatever her plan here was. Then, her hands move to my shoulders, and she maneuvers me to sit taller. "Moodie... everyone hurts people, sooner or later. Alright... I hurt people. I hurt you, and I sure fuckin' hurt others, too. You're not doomed just because you've made mistakes." Her eyes roll in manic consideration, and she says, "Knowing you is not just some curse. You saved me."

I shrink down. "You saved me first."

Her head shakes. "No? The cycle starts with you. You know that, right?" Admittedly, I'm truly not sure what she's getting at, precisely. Clearly she reads it on me, because she reaches to her side, rifling through her pack. She pulls free a familiar potion, bubbly pink liquid percolating from the bottom-up. "Moodie, I've seen more life than I ever thought I would, but this is still the greatest gift anyone ever gave me."

That isn't fair. She's passing her own bravery onto me. She made herself; all I did was give her the tools. "You were already out in the world as yourself-"

"But you crystallized me. You let me make myself a home. I love the person I've become, thanks to you. I will always be grateful for that."

Her point isn't lost on me, but even in this state, I woefully remain the way I am. "Technically, I was repaying a debt on you, so-"

"Take the fucking compliment."

My eyes roll. Every time I try it feels like swallowing glass. Still bleary-eyed, I instead attempt a deflection. "How did you... even find me...?" Then, as soon as I have the thought, the memories of the events leading up to my blackout flood back, and I pull away from her grasp in a start. "Faylie- Is she-"

Alabastra nods. "She's fine!" Then, she turns toward the wall, and pulls back a curtain I'd been assuming was just shanty-decoration until this moment.

The curtain gives way to a window, with a view out to the center of Stilton. Clearly some kind of conflagration occurred here last night; several of the homes are half-smashed, and the remnants of a fire pit in the middle of the shack town lays charred in smoldered pieces, a broken promise of violence. Beyond it, children still play, people still converse, life moves on. I wonder if this place forges resilience, or is forged by it.

And ahead of the crowd, just outside of this building, Faylie and Tegan wait, side-by-side, chatting to another familiar figure: Father Kansis, in robes of clerical white. My insides curdle at the thought that Vail was telling the truth; that he knows now what I am. One less safe place for me.

We catch Faylie's eye as we look out the window, and she turns from the conversation to give a shy, guilty wave. Oh... Gods I hope she does not blame herself for this.

Alabastra gives her a wave back, and a 'wait' motion. "Found her snoozin' on your kitchen floor. Grabbed her and your things in the early hours, after what went down here." She turns back to me. "And, as for your first question... when we went back to talk to Kansis, he dropped that he met a guy named Vail, who was askin' about Stilton and vampires, and you, and... didn't take much to put the pieces together. We got here right on time."

Then Kansis really did lead him to me. Though, if he's here at all, it may have been accidental. I'll have to speak to the good father later, when I'm not so... this. "And... Vail?"

"Ran the fucker outta town." She snarls in his memory, running an angry hand through her hair. "Bastard. Stirred up the people here with what happened in Medi Park. Few folk didn't like it, so he took charge. Tried to-" She stops, reconsidering giving me the gory details. She gets a far-off look for a moment, and swallows a deep worry. "We're... glad you're still here."

The way she says it makes it clear: it was not a sure thing. I'd not thought myself so vulnerable as I am, before this past month. This has been more than anyone's fair share of near-death experiences, now.

She'd mentioned that the people here were spurred against me. I suppose my secret's out. Even with all her sway here, the rumor mill will churn soon. I'll be out of business or in a gallows before the week is out. If they don't kill me the second I step out the door. "And, the crowd...?"

Alabastra bites the side of her cheek. "I explained the whole situation as best I could. Vail had 'em all twisted up, but they're not unreasonable. Nobody's gonna try anything else." Then she shifts, a less pleasant thought taking her. "Gonna have some harder chats later on with the folk that decided this was a good idea at all, but that can wait."

I have nothing to add on the community organizing front. Nothing of value, anyways. I am well aware of my manifold weaknesses. My advice would start more fires than it would put out. "And, I didn't... hurt anyone, did I?"

She shakes her head. "No. We got... got you subdued." She emphasizes the wrong word, and I'm not sure why.

"And the Insight plan?"

She looks like she's holding back again, and very briefly, I almost let myself grow angry again, before she says, "Right. There's somethin' I need to talk to you about, with that. But, right now you're all twisted up. Not havin' a repeat of..." She doesn't finish her sentence, but her meaning is clear. "Soon. Today. Whenever you're ready. For now, I just want you to get your head right."

It's strange, the half-acknowledgement of that morning. The longer we go, the more mental energy I have to expend just to not think about it. If I still had the watch I might twist this as just another example of her keeping things from me, but based on past events, this is, I suppose, sound. I am not in a position to receive more bad news, I will admit.

The deadline helps; it makes her decision feel less arbitrary. And it's how I know it's a sincere effort, too. Scheduling isn't her strong suit.

"I'm not sure my head has ever been right...", is the best I can devise as a deflection.

"It's never too late to try." She's fully re-focused on me, now. "I mean that. It's never too late. If you're really feelin' guilty, whether with us or someone else, you can still make that right."

She clearly has no idea. "No. I've long since missed the opportunity to apologize, for multiple reasons."

"Not just by apologizing, Moodie." Alabastra throws up her hands, exasperated with me. "And not just by hating yourself forever. You don't repent - you can't punish yourself until the guilt goes away, it doesn't work. The only way is to forgive yourself first. To be better. Otherwise you'll just drown in it. I'd know." A haunted look comes over her for a moment. In light of all I've learned about her in the past weeks, her criminal past, and her willingness to end lives to save others, it does me some small comfort to know that guilt comes for her, too.

Dammit, she can never be wrong. We are alike. In matters of guilt, at least. Yet I'm having difficulty countenancing her advice. "I'm... not sure how."

"To what? Be better?"

"To be... anything. Anything but this." I gesture up and down myself. My breath starts to pick up, as if I've just noticed I'm on a tightrope.

For a while she simply looks my way, not judging, but appraising. Measuring me, or perhaps my worth. "I think you've already started." Before I can ask what she means, she clarifies, "The clock tower. The... hotel. The warehouse. You just gotta be brave once for it all to snowball."

"Those were different. Your life was in danger. I didn't have a choice." I turn away, out to the window. "That wasn't bravery."

Alabastra laughs in my face. "What the fuck do you think bravery is?" When I glance back, I accidentally catch her eye again, and find that I can't turn away. Then a strange sort of look crosses her, as she seems to recall something. "Did I... did I ever tell ya why I went to the Institute at all? What my first field of study was, before I switched out to History?"

Her being a sophomore by the time my studies had started, she was already on that new path. She had once spun a yarn to me that she'd initially come to the Lazuli Institute seeking maps that would lead her to Captain Kell's lost treasure. I... will continue to assume that was a joke. "No...?"

"I was studyin' law." She's smiling, but not with her joker's demeanor. More honest, vulnerable.

Unlikely though it seems, I believe she's telling the truth? "You... were going to be a lawyer?" And I can't help but laugh. A small chuckle at first that breaks into a full fit; once I start it's like a dam breaks and I can't stop.

She's laughing too, with a hand on my shoulder. "I know, I know." We continue for a while longer, past the point where our shared fit is born of humor, and instead sheer release, like I can actually fully relax around her once more.

When she's had enough, she wipes a tear from under her eye, and continues, "Shmrphmrph Camin, Attorney-At-Law." She swipes a hand through the air as if depicting sign, all while she self-sensors her old name. Then she pops her coat collar in a put-on cocky performance. "I think I woulda killed it in a three-piece."

Still getting the last laughing gasps out, I manage, "It just seems so..." I want to say ironic, but she's clearly going somewhere with this. "Unlike you."

"Not so different - was gonna be a public defender. Keep folk outta the system." Then Alabastra looks like she's far away for a moment, pulled from herself into memory. She scratches nervously behind her ear. "I got this idea, in my head, when I was, dunno, thirteen? Was gonna get so good at lawyering that I could... argue my dad outta jail." She seems to have made unsure by her own recalled fantasies. "Stupid kid dream. I know."

Ah. Now I feel bad for laughing. I know this isn't Alabastra's favorite period of history to relitigate. She's truly trusting me. "Not stupid", I say. Though, now that I think on it, hadn't she mentioned something counter to this, once? "But, what about that vision of being a robber-hero you wanted to emulate from the Lucentes?"

For just a moment, sincerity swells in her eyes. I'm not sure why. "Y- yea. I... thought I could do both. Attorney by day, thief by night. You know how it all looks, when you're starting out. When you got your head in the clouds?" I don't, actually. This must be a 'people with hopes and dreams and ambitions' problem. She continues, "But pretty quick I realized I could only do one."

"And so you dispensed with your law aspirations?"

Her head shakes. "Nope. Total opposite. Was gonna dive right into it, full sprint. Forget everything else."

Well. Obviously that is not what happened. She's waiting for a moment, for me to ask the question. And of course she's made me curious. "What changed your mind?"

Alabastra grins, and points out the window. I follow her index-tracked gaze back to the familiar knight of steel and chain armor and wolf ears, currently kicking a ball into a trash can with some neighborhood children. "She did."

That was... not the answer I was expecting. "Tegan?"

She leans forward, ready to spin a tale. "I'd made myself believe that I would just have to spend the rest of my life yearning. After the Syndicate, I thought that there were no heroes. That I couldn't have half- a quarter, even, of what I wanted. That I would have to settle. Make my peace with only making a difference in the little ways, the margins, and, y'know not to say it wouldn't have been worthwhile, but it wouldna been me. I thought I would never be the kind of person- the kind of woman I wanted to be. So I was just about ready to put it all away." Alabastra pauses, and gestures back out the window. "And then, into my life walks a literal knight in shining armor, right outta the fuckin' romance books."

I stare. "So, you changed the fundamental course of your life because you met a gorgeous woman in armor?"

Alabastra leans back on the cot. "Well, when you say it like that, you make me sound like a flamin' homosexual."

"..." That feels like a trap.

Her incredulous smile lets me in on the joke. Then she continues, "She was... brave. Braver than anyone I ever met. And not because she wasn't scared - she was terrified. Of the city, of everyone in it. She was brave in spite of that - because of that. And, when you meet someone like that, it gets you thinkin'. About what it'd be like if you tried it, too." Alabastra's taken with a nostalgia, fond memories bringing a shine back to her eyes. "So, after a while of gettin' to know her, I thought about her whole 'helping folk' thing, and figured someone like her would need someone like me. And I realized I wanted that.

"And we talked about me and what I needed, and... she saw me, Moodie. Made me think I might see me, too. It only took knowin' someone who cared, to start living for me." A moment stretches long as she stares. And she continues, "You... know why I'm saying this, right?"

"I did assume this was going somewhere...", I mumble.

She laughs, tapping me lightly in the shoulder with her fist. "I have already seen you be brave. And, bravery, Moodie? It's so much fuckin' easier shared. So you can sit around and wait for it to strike you one day, or..." She stands from the bed, and offers a hand. "If you're ever ready-" Her head shakes. "When you're ready... I am here to help you cheat. Because Gods know I got plenty to spare, these days."

Alabastra speaks with conviction that I can't fathom. I attempt to imagine it; to see what that bravery would look like on me. But try as I might, it's an unfitting coat, too large for my craven form. Some future stares back at me, beckoning me forward, and still my instinct is to run into depths more deserving. To instead chase some ever-unattainable penance. But past that fear, and anger, and loathing, I can start to make out the edges. Its hazy and distorted, yet familiar; after all, I have pretended to be someone who was brave once before. There's some distant horizon playing out a charming little fantasy.

But it's just that. A fantasy. A horizon. I can't reach it.

Then again, that's why she offered, isn't it? Because I can't reach it myself? She wants to give me a push, so I don't have to languish until some specter possesses me to take the first step. And though I'm not ready yet, there is that 'yet'. I'll keep at it. Give myself time to warm to the idea. Maybe that coat will fit a touch better once I've got some life back in me.

The rogue pulls her hand away, points behind her with a thumb, and says, "Gonna have a quick chat with the others before I bring 'em in. You good to be alone for a bit?"

I nod. But as she goes to leave, there's a part of her story that I can't help but feel she missed. I say, "Alabastra?" She turns around. "But when did you know?"

Her smile grows wide as the seas. Breathy and glad, she exclaims, "I didn't!" She sticks out her arms in a theatric shrug. "I just went for it!" And she walks out the door.

I'm... not entirely sure she knows precisely what she was answering. I'm not sure I know what question I was asking.

All of them, perhaps.

* * *

Of course, the others get to doting over me immediately.

The second they burst through the door, Faylie springs forward and slams herself into me in a tackle-hug. "Moodie!", she cries, as I'm nearly laid flat against the cot. "I'm so... so sorry!" Her rueful sobs beat empathy into my chest. Dammit, Faylie. I had so wished she hadn't caught the guilt bug. "I- I didn't know what to do once my magic was gone and I panicked and thought I could surprise him and I should've just done the backup plan first and I thought they would listen and- and when I woke up they told me what happened and I was so so scared and I thought-"

"Faylie!", I interrupt. "It's... fine. It is not your fault." That she would even blame herself is ridiculous. If anything, it was my fault for not thinking of an exit strategy sooner. "I'm not your responsibility."

"But... but you were. And I... I was useless..." She pulls away, hands against her chest, not meeting my eyeline. It is strange to be on the other side of this.

Alabastra delivers a consoling, "Bug..."

"Sorry..." She looks back to her girlfriend, then me again. "She said I shouldn't worry you or make a scene or whatever but I just... I can't help it you almost died Moodie and if it was my fault and I-"

"Bug!", Alabastra says again, a tad more forceful.

I wave a hand out. "It's fine. Truly. You don't need to admonish yourself." They look at me askance. I am capable of learning from them. "Vail is the only one you should blame for the events of last night."

The faun huffs, a frustrated cross to her arms. "Can't believe that jerk."

Tegan, having leaned herself against the wall, adds, "After saving his life, he turns around and tries to kill us. Didn't think he was such a hateful asshole."

Though it's not exactly a pleasant topic, this is as good a time as any to discuss the monster hunter. "I... don't know that he was motivated by hatred, actually." The others seem incredulous. "That isn't to say he didn't hold contempt for us, just... the way he spoke, when it was just he and I. He wasn't carrying this out on behalf of Forsyth, or a broader commitment to xenophobia, or even Stilton, really. He just seemed to be grasping for some glory or honor. I was just a means to him. A menace to put down, so he could be a hero."

Alabastra winces. "And... how do you feel about that?"

Every time she asks that I'm not sure what to say. Like I can never quite put the truth of the matter into words. But I suppose it can't hurt to try. At least, not worse than anything else has hurt. As far as the monster hunter goes, I feel... annoyed. Like I just wish he'd have left me alone. Like I never asked to be his stepping-stone to self-actualization.

I cover myself in shameful self-pity as I say, "Like I'm tired of feeling like a threat."

Confident and consoling as she was just a few minutes ago, Alabastra's face drops into a pit at that. I couldn't begin to imagine why, but she smacks her forehead in a sudden outburst. "Ah, fuck. You fucking idiot."

"... What did I-"

"No! No, not- not you, idiot, me idiot!" She looks in pain for a moment, as her eyes scratch the ceiling, the walls, then back to me. "Moodie... fuck. I'm so sorry for the hotel room."

She's... apologizing for that now? I'd nearly accepted that she never would. "What happened to not apologizing for what you're not sorry for?"

With one thrown-out hand and the other still cupping her forehead, she says, "I changed my mind. I... Gods I didn't realize. And now... Ah, shit I really did make it worse by not just sayin' that from the start, huh?" I almost can't believe my eyes.

Tegan seems to share in my incredulity. "... Oh, thank the Gods you finally got around to it, Allie. I thought I was gonna have to, like, shake it out of you."

Alabastra laughs, an unbelieving light beneath a surface of self-shame. "I mean, I probably still deserve it, yeah." It's as if looking at me is physically painful for her, but she does so anyways. "I didn't... I shoulda known. I never wanted to- to use you like a weapon, Moodie. Gods, I- I feel sick that I made you feel that way."

She looks like she's ready to throw up. I'd been assuming, even subconsciously after I'd otherwise agreed to follow once more, that she'd known that that was what she'd done, at the core of it. She'd never even... considered that she'd used me in that way. Made me feel as dangerous as I feared I was. She truly thought she was saving me, with no caveats. I'm not sure if that's better or worse... but at least that she'd made a mistake is a solvable problem. I suppose I answered my own question. Better. It's better. And I think that's all I needed to hear.

"I... accept your apology."

As if medicinal, those little words dull the ill on her face. But the sick doesn't fully clear. I doubt it ever will, for either of us.

I look at the three of them. The four of us... just a bunch of fools, agonizing over our own guilts, all the little ways we've hurt each other, in action and inaction. Ridiculous. Untenable. The joke was on me all along. Ailing or hearty; better or worse; there's no getting off this train now. They'll be the death of me one day.

My hand goes to scratch the back of my head, only to feel the uneven locks I'd shorn in a fit of delirious watch-wrought conformity. I wince in discomfort at the reminder. I wonder if The Timekeeper realized the irony, in driving me to that state. So much for not changing.

Ever with a keen eye, Alabastra seems to notice. And then her still unworthy and sad glare lightens like a beacon. She's getting an idea, again.

"Why don't I make it up to ya?", she says. Then, without warning, she fishes through Faylie's satchel, eliciting a bleating yelp from the faun at the unexpected move. A moment later, the blonde pulls free a shiny steel pair of scissors. "How 'bout it, Moods? Trust me enough to play barber?"

I stare. On the one hand, obviously an idiotic notion and a grotesque waste of time, and... and who am I kidding? "Fine." Perhaps her words of bravery are starting to creep in after all. Or perhaps the haircut is simply so bad, fixing it counts as its own priority. "Though, I truly do doubt it will suit me."

Alabastra swings the scissors around her fingers like a butterfly knife. I move to a nearby chair, and she begins circling around me, appraising me. "Only one way to find out!"

"And... you are sure you know what you're doing, right?"

"Probably."

Panic spikes, but only briefly. Just a joke, I remind myself. She walks behind me, grabbing a lock of my hair, and another, still adjudicating her next move.

As she does, Faylie steps forward, still displaying her harbored regrets. "If you don't mind me asking, Moodie... why did you cut it in the first place?"

I almost tilt my head, before I remember haircutting etiquette. It has been a very long time since I'd had it done last. A memory of making a scene as a child whenever it became a forced issue resurfaces. And, speaking of memory... "In the state that the watch left me in, I had convinced myself it was a necessary evil. Some mental gymnastics I had twisted myself into. I don't care to recall the particulars." I'm too cowardly to admit exactly why.

The faun looks forlorn. "That thing was no good. I kinda wish we never even stole it..."

Alabastra says, "Regrettin' stealing something, Lightning Bug? That ain't like you." Faylie is strangely quiet in response to that, scanning the floor and only giving a little nod.

When the moment is passed her chance to respond, I say with a shrug, "It wasn't all negative." Behind me, I feel Alabastra begin her operation, cutting away tiny bits and pieces of uneven ends. I tamp down the growing fires of anxiety. I trust her. "Mentally, it was dreadful, yes. I was inundated with memory, stuck in the moment I seized it, and the headaches... but it did confer incredible power. Likely it saved my life on multiple occasions."

Tegan seems interested in that. "Power? Like what?"

"Resilience, for one. It would wind back any damage done to me faster than any healing could. And I believe I received... glimpses. Of the future. A precognition that prevented my death several times." The two I can see go bug-eyed. "And I could even, in certain instances, skip forward. An hour or so at a time."

"What?!", Tegan exclaims.

Faylie adds, dumbstruck, "Woah..." Then curiosity takes the mage, of course. "Wait, so... is that why you got all spacey, when we were heading home that one time?"

Ah. That's one mystery solved, I suppose. "Likely, yes." It still feels bizarre, discussing my time with the watch in the past tense. There's almost a hole, now, in my psyche, where I expect its venomous interjections, or a halting on my form. "I'd... ah. After a time with it, I'd started to convince myself that I was immortal. It is... strange to be without."

They stare at me for a moment. Alabastra says behind me, accentuated with another snip of my hair, "Moodie. You only had it for like five days."

... Right. "It felt like longer." Perhaps that was another facet of the watch's magic.

Faylie says, "You mentioned headaches?"

The hand Alabastra has at my skull keeps me from nodding. "The Timekeeper's methods of keeping me in suspense were... not entirely of an enchanting nature."

There's a chill in the room as the three look to one another. "Oh, Moodie...", Alabastra sympathizes. "And you said there was a person in there, that you- Gods."

I'm still not sure how to feel about the person inside the watch. It's been easier to continue to imagine it a mindless thing, its torments no more than a force of nature. That a thinking intelligence, of a sort, did all of that to me; it's still too big. My mind circles around the word it conjures, but it feels like too absurd a situation to apply it to myself.

The others stay quiet a moment, only the sound of Alabastra snipping at my hair, before she diverts to using some wet product in her hand to fluff out the edges.

She finally speaks up again, "You know you didn't deserve that, right?"

They've earned my honesty on the subject. "I'm still working on that."

Tegan leans forward, putting a hand to my shoulder. "You didn't."

I choke up, just a touch. "Thanks."

Alabastra changes the subject. "You, uh, mentioned memories, though?" Her tone betrays the haunting she was subjected to with her own brush with The Timekeeper. I still don't dare ask what she saw.

"Yes. I would... dream of events I had nearly forgotten." Forcibly forgotten, if I'm being honest.

Far too cheerful, Faylie chirps, "Did you dream of us?" There's a forward tilt to her head, interested in my answer.

"Briefly. In passing, anyways." In truth, until this month, and perhaps especially after this month, most of my memories with these three were some of my better ones. The kind I'd have no need to be forced to recall. I never did quite manage to browbeat my own sentimentality.

Faylie blinks twice, her smile faltering slightly. She looks like she's going to say something else, but then only mm-hmms. Did I... give the wrong answer to that question?

Tegan thumps Faylie lightly on the back of the head, as Alabastra maneuvers around to my front. "Alright, close your eyes, Moods. And no peakin', you two. Let's make a proper show outta this." Always with the theatrics.

The other two turn their heads, and I close my eyes as she commands. The snip-snipping of her trimming away at the front of my face is almost calming in a way; if this were anyone else, it might send me into a shock.

I ask, "Have you ever done something like this before, Alabastra?"

"Cut my own hair, if that counts. Didn't trust barbers early-on, and kinda just morphed into a ritual." Then she lets out a bitter little laugh. "And... Bluebel- uh. Vatrizia's. Few times."

We haven't spoken on the Syndicate in a minute, and after everything that happened, we never did quite discuss the events at the Carlivain, either. Not on even ground, anyways. "Did you ever hear from her again, after the heist?"

She clicks her tongue. "Nope. But no news is good news, right?" Her sentiment is undercut by an uncharacteristic nervous flit.

I'd rather not have her distracted thinking on past pains when she has a blade this close to my face. "It seems Cozzo's untimely demise caused quite a stir. The papers had a field day with it."

"You read that story, huh?" The cocky bluster returns to her voice. "Not our first time in the news, but definitely the biggest. Almost a shame our name ain't attached to it." Only Alabastra would want her name tied to the horrific death of a crime boss.

Faylie asks, "Was that your first time in the pages, Moodie?"

I nearly say yes instinctively, but that's actually not the case. "Technically, no. I bought an ad for the apothecary, once." To their surprised chuckles I elucidate, "They printed the wrong address. I saw maybe two new customers from it." Financial desperation can lead one to strange places. I considered filing a complaint, until the prospect of a civil case to see results made me reconsider. This month may be the most dire my monetary situation has looked since those days.

Alabastra says, "That's the Acta for ya. Really went to the dogs since LaFontaine bought it out." Before I can stop her, she launches into a rant. "Fired all the undesirable writers who didn't fit his new agenda. Fuckin' moguls and tycoons and their deep fuckin' pockets. Purchase the biggest paper criticizing you and hope the rest scatter. Gods, what a sleazeball."

Without a shred of emotion I say, "Alabastra, nobody else even knows what you're talking about."

"And that's the problem!"

Inveterate iconoclast. Endlessly belligerent. And I let her style me like a damned plaything. Unbelievable. Of course, I don't say any of that aloud.

I... wouldn't want her to change that, after all.

With a theatric swooshing of blades before me, she says, "Alright, think I'm just about done, but... hmm." Not a great sign; my throat seizes. "Let's get that fuzz off your face too, yeah?"

Ah. Yes, that would be for the best. Ridiculous, that I ever thought to flagellate by skipping the razor. I nod.

After a moment of something foamy being applied to my face, I feel the familiar edge of a blade at my chin. She's quite deft at this, it seems. Years of her knifework, I'd wager; or maybe, even, the other way around. Either way, I'm getting a closer shave that I'm used to, and feel endlessly thankful for it.

"And I think that'll do it", says Alabastra. I open my eyes to a massive beaming smile, as she frames me with her fingers like a painting. "Think I might have a career in this, girls."

Faylie opens her eyes, and gasps. "Oh my gosh!" She's over-reacting, surely.

Tegan says, "Ah, c'mon, it's not like-" She stops when she meets my eyes, like her brain shut off, and she blinks rapidly. "Uh- I. Uh-huh, yea. Go-good job, Allie. Good." She turns away again, staring forward, a strange... blush on her face? And her tail wags wildly. I suppose it is a somewhat embarrassing situation. I don't blame her, being bashful over her attempts at placating me.

For all their reactions, the most prescient in the room of course couldn't possibly arrive. "I suppose I'll just have to take your words for it", I mope. I'd nearly forgotten that wrinkle once again. Finally wanting to see my reflection, and now I can't.

Alabastra lets dejection show on her for a moment, but before she can say anything, Faylie steps forward, a familiar and mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I'll make you a mirror!"

"I thought we established that your conjured mirrors don't-"

The faun hops up on the bed, and says, "NOVUS PERSONA", with a flourish of a card. In a flash of light, I'm staring at...

Oh.

Oh...

She's turned herself into the familiar visage of a pale humanoid, in an unfortunately stained and slightly torn button-down, red-tinted glasses, fangs hanging between her- their- Faylie's smile, and Faylie gives an exaggerated pomp to the new hair-do of a raven black cut in a flared, bobbed style I'd have never dared to ask for. It's shorter, sure, but unabashed. Utterly bizarre and... feminine.

"Surely that isn't... you've taken some embellishments...", I try to reason.

Tegan exclaims through a hand held flush to her cheek, "Nope. It's-it's... it's accurate."

And once more I'm reminded of those days in a dorm room with Lainey Sedgwick. The only times I'd ever not hated my reflection, though even towards the tail end of those days, I'd started picking out more and more flaws. As if looking in a mirror was an exercise in finding fault, though that still was better than the default unreality of my reflection.

But here, it almost feels like there's no point. Like I'm seeing myself in a whole new light. This is unfathomably strange. I keep expecting this to work like a mirror, with her following my movements, and to her credit she does try, but Faylie's always drummed to her own beat, and it's causing my brain to falter in a start and stop.

"Well, gee, way to one-up me, Bug!", Alabastra says, a hand on my shoulder. "Pretty good, right?"

Faylie says, "It was a team effort!", and her voice coming from my face sends me into a spiral of confusion. And she's smiling; Gods, is that what I look like when I smile? Her mannerisms come through, of course, and it's hard to tell if what I like is the new look or the person underneath it. "So... whaddaya think?"

I stare. "I think you wear me better."

The faun in vampire's clothing puts a hand to... my? Her hip. "In that case, maybe I'll wear it a little longer..." The only thing about her disguise that is objectively incorrect is the size. My visage on Faylie's smaller form is... starting to make me somewhat uncomfortable with myself again, actually. Like my own body is taking up too much space, all of a sudden.

"One of me is enough already", I say. Alabastra starts to cough into her hand, an awkward sort of deflection. I suppose she wants attention, again. I turn to her. "It is... adequate, Allie. Um. Alabastra." Damn it all. Pull yourself together.

Still coughing slightly, she hopefully didn't register that little blunder. Instead she leans forward, towering over me a moment. "One day, I'm gonna getcha to give me a real compliment, Moodie."

My eyes roll. "Well, if you intend to wait forever, I know the perfect artifact for you."

She's silent for a moment. Then unadulterated joy crosses her. "Well, look who's got jokes!"

"I cannot help it, I suppose. I am... feeling better." There. She's forced it out of me. I hope she's happy. And it is the truth. Despite the circumstances, this is perhaps the most okay I've felt since this started. Still an unfathomable distance from the metric most would measure themselves by, but certainly so by my skewed standards.

Alabastra says, "Well, you certainly look better." She's being kind, of course. Then she turns to one side. "Ain't that right, Tegan?"

Tegan looks like steam is about to come out of her ears. She puts another hand to her face and murmurs, "Mm-hmm." Perhaps she has some kind of especial reaction to haircuts? Another mystery.

From the side, Faylie adds, "Better enough to get movin', Moodie?"

Nodding, I say, "Indeed. Though we should likely-" I stop as I look back down at her, having hopped off the bed. "... Would you please take that off?"

"Fiiine", she whines, and the illusion scatters away in a cloud of buzzing magic, almost like butterflies. Then she brightens up. "Oh, and hey! We got your stuff while we were at your shop!" She starts to dig through her bag, pulling out a second bag. My own supplies. As well as an estoc. The one they granted me when I so heatedly left their abode. I never did ask about it.

As Faylie holds my things in her hands in a haphazard pile, my eyes meet Alabastra's. "And the sword?"

We both look down at the sheathed implement of violence before me. Where did they even get this? "Like we said", she finally starts, "If you want it. Though, with the shit we're about to get into, it couldn't hurt."

Peeling herself off the wall, Tegan finally seems to have control over herself again. Tail still swinging behind, she adds, "I wouldn't feel good about you not having some way to defend yourself, Moodie." She rubs the back of her neck. "Though, I, uh... could- should probably give you some pointers on how to use that without hurting yourself, and... uh. Maybe?"

That's a fair idea. "Maybe", I affirm.

They're likely correct, of course: it would be unwise to continue traveling with these three undefended. Even under normal circumstances; they tend to attract chaos. My hand wraps around the sheathe, and I pull the strap slowly over my torso. Though the sword itself is light, the scabbard feels cumbersome and unwieldy on my gangly form, like it's wielding me more than I am it.

I look to Alabastra as I slide my satchel over the other shoulder, and lace my voice with sarcasm once more. "Where to next, o' fearless and irksome leader?"

"I could get used to that title", she quips. Alabastra dusts her hands, and reaches into her coat pocket. "Well, we gotta check in with some folk before we beat feet outta Stilton, but as far as where-to next? Our little friend here-" Her words arrest in her throat as she pulls the amulet free, brows sinking. Staring at the stone amulet for a moment, she says, "Ah, shit."

She turns the necklace thread over in her hand. The carved stone amulet turns back to the three of us, but the glowing red gem in the middle now holds neither of those attributes. It is cold and gray and dead in the inset of Ma Cozzo's tracking amulet. I reach out to touch, and sure enough, I feel none of the strange pulling sensation I had before. It is now nothing but a dull piece of rock.

We look to each another, sharing in the realization for a moment, silent recognition of ill fortune.

It can never be simple, can it?