CLOSED SIGNUPS WHALE FALL

[unanun]

Iman insisted on staying to hold the best seats, not understanding the meaning of the ribbons tied to the top of each seat in the front. Thus Grandpa had to coax the boy away with other lures of the festival, playing to the boy's rumbling stomach.

"It's okay, Im! You can still see everything from the top seats."

"They're so tiiiiiiny up here! Why can't we just stay down there?"

"Everyone around there would hear your tummy! Come on, let's find mommy and daddy. Grandpa hears there's some jogumba!"

"butidon'tlikejogumba…"

Sometime later, as Grandpa was smacking his lips over the tangy fish and paple gravy, he saw Iman pushing the food around his plate and realized that perhaps the day had been more about himself. In the long fog of retirement he had not lived for twenty years, and today was a selfish indulgence in remembrance of when he was still alive in the patrol. He couldn't enjoy the final bite.

In the gong of the water clock he hatched his apology. "Iman, you've been such a good boy today while mom and dad were busy. Why don't we go early and get some seats for the show?"

Oh, the surging relief was a balm for his guilt-stricken heart as the boy shoveled the plate of jogumba away! And that was how they ended up in the middle of the ampitheatre, Grandpa still firmly seated as Cadians crushed for the exits.

"Iman, I'm sorry, but I'll need the toy."

Abraham lifted the forgotten toy from the boy's slack fingers. In his grip, the formula tattooed on his palm squeezed and lengthened the bone into a long, thin spear with a bodkin tip for piercing chitin. Abraham's arm shook as he angled the tip upward to trace an arc to the stage – how he wished he had a piece of ambergris!

Rhythmic thocking came from Abraham's right. The antlion's mandibles paused just before bisecting Fretty, who took the time to slip straight down and away. Abraham saw a pair of figures thumping on bucklers of bone. More small shields emerged from the crowd, and the clacking oscillated left and right across the entire amphitheater, the antlion's head waving back and forth in response.

Was this a new technique developed since he retired? Abraham lowered his spear. They had always avoided antlions, and stalked them barefoot in loincloth and mask if death was the only other option. What had the Patrol been transformed into, with such a confident display of understanding of the Outside? Under the beat the crowd also ceased their panic, and some even returned to their seats, whispering about this whole theatre experience that Roussa prepared for such a special evening. From the stage, the Herald of Cadia raised a bloody hand, further encouraging the crowd that this whole drama was just elaborate theatrics.

 

[Itari]

Screams could be heard as Sekani and Xola approached the main stage. A few people ran past them, panicked expressions on their faces. Sekani took Xola's hand and started running. They didn't want to miss the fun. The antlion was staring at a row of people making noise in front of the stage. Chaos surrounded them as people were caught between attempting to flee the scene and thinking it was a show. Sekani carefully stowed their dinner in a hidden corner and pulled out two bone daggers. They took their time tying the daggers onto either end of their rope and making sure they were secure. The key to winning games was, after all, to keep a calm head and be properly prepared. They ran forward, nimbly jumping over and on the heads of fleeing bystanders. One of the daggers sprang forward, piercing the antlion in its side. The other side swung around to cut off a leg but only succeeded in getting halfway through before getting stuck. The insect moved angrily towards them, bleeding a green-blue color. It reared back and lunged. Sekani jumped out of the way, luring it away from the fleeing crowd and back onto the stage. A bloody man was lying in a hole. Probably dead. They would get in trouble if he were alive and Sekani accidentally killed him though, so they did their best to lure the beast away from his location. The antlion extended its jaws, mandibles snapping. Sekani waited until it got close then slipped underneath it. The rope, still stuck in the antlion's leg, shook in a wavy line, then swooped around and stabbed it from the bottom. Hahahaha!

The antlion spun in an angry circle above them, unable to reach Sekani from their position under its belly. Sekani casually freed their dagger from its leg with a hard tug, then came out from underneath the creature behind it. Their rope swung in a circle above their head, leaving some shallow cuts on its back side. The antlion turn to face them and reared up and slamming onto the stage. The wood boards cracked, and Sekani jumped back and into the curtain on the side. For a moment the two played hide and seek; Sekani, ducking in and out of curtains with the antlion angrily tearing them up behind them. Their red rope trailing behind them in a wavy, laughing line.

 

[Oxymoron]

The crowd, for the most part, didn't pay all too much attention to Minnow. There seemed to be some important performance going on that she couldn't see from where she sat. That, and her hastily put together stall didn't have all the eye-catching decorations of her competitors. Just a bunch of knitted items laid out on a table. Occasionally when someone did stop to look at her wares she immediately shrunk in her seat, hunching as low as she could manage as her pale face went red with embarrassment. Though she hadn't realized it she was holding her breath every time someone stepped close to the stall. Her mind raced with just one phrase on repeat.

Please don't see me—Please don't see me—Please don't see me

Her pleas did little to sway the odds of her being noticed. At one point an elderly lady was shuffling past her stall when she saw the poor Faunus practically quivering in her seat. She had with her a couple young boys that couldn't have been older than 8 winters each. Minnow didn't recognize any of them but they apparently recognized her as the two boys immediately hid behind their grandma and pointed their little fingers in her direction.

"Look Nana!" Said one. "It's the white witch of the woods!"

The resulting sound that poured out of Minnows mouth could only be compared to the pitiful death rattle of a deflating balloon. She should've known that some of the folk from her village would be here. It's an ambergris festival after all, most wouldn't miss it for the world.

"It's true! She has the key to the box of ancient evils!" Went the other, pointing to the large ornate key that hung from her neck. This earned the two of them a whap over the head from Nana, delivered with surprising agility for someone long past their prime.

"Quiet you two!" She snapped. "Show some respect! She's a friend and you will treat her as such." The two boys reared at their punishment but giggled nonetheless. Nana slowly turned her aged face to Minnow, who's eyes had begun to water. "Don't mind them dearie. They're too young to remember you or your father. Not many do anymore. I'm afraid I might be one of the last in our village who even remembers your name, Minnie. How are you holding up these days?"

Minnow wiped her eyes with a sleeved arm, cursing herself for being so easy to upset. Certainly didn't help hearing herself being called Minnie again, a nickname her father used for her. "I-I-I'm alright. . ." She managed, her hands folding over her chest nervously. Nana might know her but she didn't know Nana. Her still glossy eyes fell to one of her wares, a neatly woven wool scarf. She'd carefully pick it up and outstretched her arms towards Nana to offer it up. "W-Would you like something. . ? I-If y-y-you want, I-I mean. . ."

The two kids both reached for the scarf simultaneously, only to have their hands slapped away by Nana. They both audibly whined but Nana wasn't listening. "I would love one, dearie. How many pieces?"

"U-Uh. . . n-n-none. . ?" Minnow hadn't thought of a price. She didn't need the funds! Frankly she only wanted to clear some space from her closet. So why not just give it away? Though, subconsciously, she hoped Nathaniel wasn't upset to know that she was giving them away for free. "Y-Your boys can have something, too. . ."

"After all these years you're still as gentle as I remember you. Please, don't let anyone take advantage of you like this." Nana managed a weak smile, taking her frail hands to her bale purse. "I insist. How's 4 pieces sound?"

"R-R-Really, I don't need the b-bales. . ." She whispered back with full honesty. "I-I'm just happy s-someone gets to use them. . ."

Nana could sense her discomfort. Minnow didn't feel right taking her Bales. Reluctantly, she pried her hands from her purse and picked up the scarf instead. Though, a devious little plan hatched in that wise brain of hers. "If it'll put your heart at ease, dear. Thank you kindly."

The two boys scrambled to pick up a knitted item of their own when they heard they were free. One picked up a small hat and the other a humanoid doll of some kind. "Artifacts from the white witch!" Whispered one to the other.

Nana outstretched her thin arms to shake Minnow's hand, cupping them around her. "Take care of yourself Minnie. We'll be going now." With a wink and one last shake she wrangled up the little ones and departed away in a shuffle. It was only after she had left that Minnow realized that Nana had slipped something into her hand. A crumpled cloth that seemed to hold something small within it. Cautiously, but curiously, she began to unfold it to see what was within. Wrapped up inside was a small bronze ring with an amber gem at its center.

No, not a gem. The way the air around it felt charged and brought goosebumps to her pale skin gave away what it really was: An itty-bitty little piece of ambergris. Nana's reward to Minnow for her kindness. In an instant she stood, crying out, "I-I-I can't accept it!" but Nana was long gone. What was she ever going to do with something like this?! She was stepping in place with unease now, her hooves beating the ground with a panicked rhythm. She had to give it back. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest, conflicted by her desire to stay here and what she viewed as an obligation to return the ring. With what little pride she could muster she gripped the cloth that still held the ring and stepped out into the current of people.

Minnow would not make it a foot away from her stall when she ran straight into someone. In an instant she recoiled back, her sleeved hands shielding her face as a muffled eep escaped her. "I-I-I-I'm sorry!" She cried. "Pl-Please f-f-forgi. . ."

She had peeked a little from over her hands to see just who she had bumped into. 2 strangers, both foreign to her. One was riding the shoulders of the other. Minnow counted it as a blessing that she didn't run into them fast enough to knock them over. They didn't dress like anyone she had ever seen before in her village. There was a certain mystical feeling to their appearance Minnow had trouble putting into words. Their eyes were bright, one pair a splendorous gold and the other a shining sapphire. Subtle streaks of paint on their faces that painted symbols she did not recognize. Simply, she found the both of them entrancing. Beautiful. Magical. Like the heroes would've been described in one of her books. Her own dull brown eyes were glued to them as her face settled into a blush that was obvious against her otherwise pale face.

". . . i-i-ive. . .me. . ." The last words of her apology crawled out of her with such caution that one would think they'd shatter upon reaching their ears. They were only inches from her collection of knitted wares. She had half a mind to pick up one of the scarves and scream into it.

The stranger with the golden eyes seemed to bore holes into Minnow as they swayed slightly from the hit. An easy smile creeping across his face as he waved a simple hand to the smaller girl, "Nothing to be sorry fo—"

"You!" the woman interrupted from her perch atop the man's shoulders, "I don't know you! Or of you!" she exclaimed, followed quickly by her appearance in front of Minnow.

"But I feel I should know you," she began wistfully as she seemed to linger on Minnow's features, "I'm Estra. Blacksmith, Wanderer Extraordinaire, and Friend to all Cadians," she offered with a smile as her mood shifted once more.

Minnow suffered through a rollercoaster of emotions as she listened to them speak. The man seemed be forgiving but for a moment she felt that the woman was inches away from ripping into her with those opening words of hers. Minnow attempted to step back when the woman came closer but instead felt her leg hit the table of her stall. She was trapped with them.

"U-Um I-I-I live on the far side of Cadia. . ." The shaking Faunus answered. "M-Minnow. . . M-My names Minnow. . . I-I'm. . ." Nobody. That was the first thought in her head. She certainly felt like it when standing next to someone with such a colorful description. What did she have going for her? Never mind that. She didn't want to tear up in front of strangers again. ". . . A-A farmer. . . Th-That's all. . . I, um, made some stuff if y-you want something. . ." She'd scoot herself away from the table to allow them to see the assortment of items. "Th-They don't cost anything. . ."

"Far side of Cadia? Thereabouts where Bur's from," the woman, Estra, paused long enough to turn to her male companion, "Ain't that so Bur?"

"Correct," the golden eyed stranger replied as he seemed intent on Minnow's collection of goods.

Estra rounded on Minnow once more, a hand reaching out to snatch up a knit blanket as she did, "You made this?" she began as she rubbed a hand delicately over the wool, "And free? I couldn't—"

"She very much could," Bur interrupted as he reached out to take the blanket from Estra.

"No, I can't," the woman countered as she shifted Minnow's work away from Bur, "How much?" she pressed with a drunken smile.

"I. . . I-I don't know. . ." She confessed. Nana had said 4 bales for a scarf. How much for a blanket? More importantly, how much was high enough for Estra to agree to while being low enough for Minnow to not feel like she robbed the two of money she didn't need? "U-U-Um. . . F-F-Five. . . I-I-I guess. . ."

There was no hope to catch Nana now. Minnow looked down the crowd. Seemed like they were beginning to funnel into a large theater. Guess her and Nathan didn't miss all the shows after all. In fact, this one seemed to be a big deal since there was a large amount of props being moved around. She was a bit curious but she didn't want to get too far from the stall. Nathan couldn't be long away now!

"I-If you don't mind me asking. . . wh-what's going on over there. . ?" She'd gesture to the theater. That seemed to be where they were headed after all.

"Six and we have a deal," the woman answered Minnow as she rummaged through her pockets.

"Feeling generous are we?" Bur addressed his companion with a sigh.

"Completely," Estra agreed as she slapped six bales onto Minnow's table with a considerable bang.

There was a moment of silence as Estra pulled her hand away from the table, six bales left as she did, before she turned to Minnow with a grin.

"Would you like to see?" she asked as she cocked her head back toward the theater, a thumb pointed in the direction as her smile grew wider.

Minnow visibly flinched in reaction to the slamming of her table, quickly turning to make sure nothing had fallen from its place. Six felt like too much to her but there was no hope of changing Estra's mind. She fumbled to pick the bales up, dropping them into the big pocket closest to her chest. What was making Estra so happy? Minnow didn't understand it but she found it strangely contagious, the edges of her lips curling up just a bit before she shook her head.

"I-I shouldn't, I-I'm waiting for someone. . ." She eventually replied. With another glance down at the theatre's direction, a thought crossed her mind. Nana probably went to the theatre. If she wanted to find her, the theatre would be her best bet. Oh, she only hoped the show wouldn't last so long. ". . . W-Well I-I-I suppose there's a little time. . ."

Suddenly, cries rung out through the streets. Minnow froze up instantly. It felt as if Cadia herself was trying to smite her for daring to think about abandoning Nathaniel for a second. The ocean of people that had once been funneling into the theater we're now cascading out of it. It was hard to hear anything now past the cries and shouts of civilians and guards alike. The current was violent, many of the people shoving past them in a panicked hurry. In an instant she had her back against the stall again, shrinking down as much as she could to avoid being swept away. Her face was half tucked into the wool that surrounded her neck. "S-S-Somethings wrong. . !" She managed, voice muffled. Her hands still clutched the cloth that held the ambergris ring. "A-At the theater. . !"

 

[Moby Dick]

Neriya

Somewhere in the depths of Davreth's visage Neriya could see the twinge of temptation flicker across the bartender's trained smile. He had said nothing. Neriya's nimble fingers reached down to the pouch fastened to her waistline and gently laid a small pile of coins on the bar. If iron were a lesser mistress, the young woman knew she would have been luckier.

Without a word Neriya gracefully withdrew from the bar and starred longingly into the drink in her hand. There was no comfort for her in alcohol, only blood. The long sinking feeling of loneliness played at her heartstrings as her eyes flickered across the few squad members that chose to show up, in hopes that she might catch a glimpse of the man she had once loved, smiling. The man she had loved wasn't with them, he wasn't anywhere anymore.

Laughter and shouting broke the melancholy of Neriya's thoughts as the brutish atmosphere of sweaty, working men started to fill in as they cheered, fought and slobbered over the selection of freshly cleaned tables, lugging themselves to an early grave. Her eyes settled on the veins popping from a young man's neck as he chugged his personal choice of beverage. Davreth's potential was wasted on these men.

Bone by delicate bone she could feel the tension welling within her body as madness began to seep into her conciousness. In the absence of distraction she could feel her head begging to spin, slowly edging her closer and closer to unsolicited profanity.

"I'm sorry," Neriya donned a soft, nervous smile as she approached the table her friends were sitting at "I should check on my healing duties before I become too settled. I'll see you all later."

Every moment Neriya spent in Cadia, the stronger her cravings became. She had to find Cadence, had to have her fill. Neriya's mind raced as her she swung around, footsteps getting faster as her brain pounded in the inside of her skull. As swiftly as words tried to escape the mouths of her squadron, Neriya was gone.

With each passing footfall beyond the tavern door, her thoughts raced passed the festivities, the excitement, the celebration and focused solely on one thing; her need to be satiated.

 

[Kuno]

Xola

⬤ ⭘

Collab with

N/A

Cadia

everywhere

⭘ ⬤

Scouts, by design, were those best suited to running on pure adrenaline. The temperamental wild beyond Cadia could turn hostile at a moment's notice, and it tended to make quick work of those without drive, forsight, and speed.

The rampaging antlion was fast. But Xola the Fleet was faster.

She was on Sekani's heels, and soon, beyond them, her fingers slipping from their grasp as the duo jumped onto the stage. The antlion was distracted by the crowd; too many sights and sounds kept its large, grotesque head spinning. Xola gritted her teeth as it faced them.

Where had it come from? There was no way in. Surely, had it come from the main passages of the outside into Cadia, some sort of outcry or alarm would have been raised. Xola danced to one end of the stage as Sekani circled around to the other, and her fingers felt for the blade at her side. They could pin it down between the two of them. Sekani was a skilled, nimble fighter, and Xola, for all her graceful features, was as strong as her imperious horns implied. When Sekani pierced one side of the antlion, Xola stabbed the other, her head lowering in anticipation.

Until something hovered in the corner of her eye. The satyr skidded to a halt, staring.

There was a bloodied man lying in a crater made on the stage. At first, Xola thought he was dead, but she soon found a steady pulse at his neck, though it was slowing beneath her fingertips. Blood streamed from his left side; undeterred, she pressed her hands against it, searching for the source. As she pressed down along the deep gashes, she hazarded a glance behind her to where Sekani baited and parried the antlion. Her brows creased, a frown forming.

Sekani would fare well enough on their own without her for a time. This man, however, would die without immediate assistance.

Grunting, Xola hefted the man's limp form up and against her body. She threw one of his arms around her neck like a yoke before rushing forward as well as she could, forcing her hips to balance the extra weight.

Remnants of the crowd still lingered, whether to spectate or simply because they were stunned to move, she did not know. Nevertheless, they stood as no obstacle to her. Gawking eyes followed her as she carried her charge, and those in her path hurriedly moved aside, gaping at the blood.

Shehad made it no more than a stone's throw before she decided to make the useless bystanders useful. The blood escaping past the grip on his wounds frightened her; with uncharacteristic force, she queried those around her for the nearest healer.

"Elira!" Someone finally exclaimed. "I saw her! She went just there, past the b-"

Xola was already running in that direction, the last of his sentence receding into a faint whine.

Coded by Ardent

 

[fatalrendezvous]

Kolmi, her daughter Lorelin, and her niece Elira had been seated a few rows from the stage, not far behind Madam Roussa, whose silhouette the council member could make out from her seat. Lorelin had been eager, standing up on her seat to whisper into her cousin Elira's ear about things only tangentially related to the performances on stage.

Elira had indulged the girl these thoughts, smiling and giggling with her while attempting to get the child to sit back down because she was blocking other people's view of the stage.

A sharp grab of fingers around Lorelin's wrist prompted a yelp from the girl, who whipped around to look at her mother. But as her gaze passed the stage, she froze. Her little forest-green eyes went wide as they found the giant antlion facing down one of the performers, her lips quivering as a scream bubbled in her throat.

Kolmi, ever protective, tore the girl from her entranced horror by burying the child's face into her coat, just in time for little Lori to be spared the sight of the gruesome goring Tav had suffered. She stood, her daughter's whimpering drowned out by the sounds of panic and scrambling crowds. Beside them, Elira immediately fetched the staff she'd lain by her feet.

The bloodied assurance from the 'Herald of Cadia' felt empty. Hollow. Kolmi, as a member of the council, had seen this exact performance enough times to know that this wasn't right, and Elira could sense it in her aunt's eyes.

"Get Lori out of here!" She hissed. Kolmi heard her, but wouldn't budge, her mind already racing over how something like this could happen. "Kolmi!" Elira shouted. The healer had mistaken her aunt's lack of response for fear, and she gave the mother and daughter a gratuitous shove towards the aisles. "Go!" Kolmi finally relented, picking her daughter up and pushing her way into the throngs of people pushing towards the exits, casting an occasional glance back at the stage. Why? How?

As her aunt and cousin disappeared into the crowds, Elira worked her way upstream, her staff pointed out in front of her to help steer traffic out of her way as she jostled against shoulders. One such shoulder stopped, the arm attached to it taking hold of Elira's arm as she attempted to fish a vial from her bag. "Elira!" A woman called her, pointing off stage. "The man, he--!"

Elira had already gone in the direction she indicated; not that it would've mattered, as the woman was promptly swept away by the tide of people.

Thankfully she didn't have to go far before finding Xola, dragging the barely-conscious Herald of Cadia behind her, blood smearing the floors in their wake. The healer herded them into a now-vacated seating row and dropped to her knees, her voice wavering at the sight of blood spilling from his side like a crimson scarf being pulled from his body. "Shit, uh-- okay--" she cursed under her breath, looking up at the satyr. "I need pressure on this! Do you have something you can use to wrap it?"

In answer, one of Xola's voluminous sleeves came free with a tear. The satyr proffered the makeshift bandage to Elira, her eyes somber. Elira snatched it, and together they lifted the man's limp body enough to wrap it around his waist and side, tying it with a knot. She took hold of Xola's hands and pressed them against the covered gash, which was already beginning to soak with blood. "Press here. Hard!"

Elira's blood-stained hands rummaged through her bag, producing two vials - one whale oil, the other whale blood. She uncorked them both, grimacing at the liquids before shutting her eyes and draining both vials simultaneously into her mouth, gulping them down. The empty vials clattered to the ground and she fought the urge to gag at the oppressive taste.

Swallowing down a retch, she focused in, clouding out the clamoring sounds around her. A steel determination glazed over the uncertainty in her gaze. Elira laid one hand on top of the other over Xola's hands, reciting runic words like the lyrics of a pleasant, but urgent, melody. Motes of light materialized aplenty, speckling the air around them. They gathered into swirling streams that encircled down towards their hands, pulsing a soft yellow glow beneath the makeshift bandage, pulling skin and sinewy muscle fibers back together, reforming bone.

Meanwhile, behind them near the exits, Gorhal - now about a dozen and a half or so mugs of ale deep - had followed the commotion and stood huffing with an angry grin and his large logging axe drawn.

"Playtime?!" The brutish orc pointed the axe blade at the antlion on stage and bellowed a roar, causing the crowd to scatter around him lest they fall victim to his recklessness as he began to leap over the chairs and seating rows down towards the foul creature.

 

[Oxymoron]

It felt like all hell had broken loose to the poor sheep. The screams of the crowd, stomping of feet, and cries of children melded together in a painful cacophony to Minnow's delicate ears. After growing so used to the quiet of her home the new volume of her surroundings made her head ache with panic and her heart beat against her chest with fear. Her arms flew up to cusp her hands hands around the length of her ears. She couldn't hear her own thoughts over all this noise. Though she hadn't realized it her breaths had become fast and rapid, her knees growing weak as she ducked down as low as she could with her eyes shut as tightly as she could get them. A feeling of encroaching dread flooded her mind, creeping closer and closer in her mind until –


"Minnow!" Came Nathaniel's voice, muffled through the sea of sounds. She felt his hand on her shoulder, prompting her to open her eyes after what had felt like an eternity to her. There he was, that spunky mailman and his goat. It was a relief to see the bright colors of his uniform and to hear the gentle chime of his bell, as subtle as it was under the crowd. "Something's gone wrong, we can't stay here!"


"B-B-But. . ." She objected. Not because she wanted to stay but because she knew she couldn't live with herself if she left without assuring the safety of the two strangers that had been so kind to her. A quick glance around revealed that they were nowhere to be found, likely swept away by the very crowd that had paralyzed her.


"There's no time!" Nathaniel barked, wrapping an arm around Minnow's shoulder and heaving the faunus onto her hooves with nothing more then a quiet yelp. He took her by the wrist and began to pull her along the crowd, Willy obediently following as closely as the torrent of people would permit. The whole time Minnow kept her ears covered, her left hand covering one tightly while she leaned her head into her shoulder to cover the other. The fact that they had abandoned their wares had suddenly become the least of her worries when she saw noticed guards and healers alike rushing to the theatre.


"Wh-What happened. . ?" The words left her mouth in a crawl, only barely audible over the panic. If she hadn't been so close to Nathaniel he wouldn't have heard.


"A bug got into the theatre somehow!" He replied, shoving past the edge of the crowd to break way and head to the outskirts of the atrium. Despite his shorter stature he did not hold back when it came to guiding trudging their way through the cascade. "An antlion. I think someone got hurt."


Minnow swallowed a heavy gulp. This felt awful. Somehow, she managed to convince herself this was her fault. It was as if Cadia punished her for daring to leave her home. How could it be a coincidence that the first time she had left her home since her father's death that an antlion had managed to snake its way inside? Maybe she should just turn herself over to the guardsmen right now and save them the trouble of seeking her out later.

The noise was much quieter now, here at the edges of the atrium. Nathaniel lead his entourage to a stop, just at the border between the city and the wilds. An exhausted breath escaped him as he pulled his hat from his head and wiped his brow with his arm. "Geeze, that's just unlucky. Don't think I've ever heard of a bug coming in, much less this deep into Cadia." He turned his head to face the exhausted Minnow, who was doing her best to calm her heavy breaths. "Sorry about all this. Couldn't have been a worse time for us, huh? I swear not all festivals are this bad, so don't let it stop you from leaving your home!"


She didn't have a reply to this right away. Truth be told this did sour the idea for her, but she didn't want to tell him that. Even so Minnow would hate to lie to him about it as well. So, she resolved to be truthful for both of their sakes. "I-I'm s-sorry N-Nathan but. . ." Her hands felt her sleeve, sheepishly rubbing her sleeve as she struggled to get her words out. She sucked in her breath and tried her apology once more from the beginning. "I-I believe you i-it's just. . . I-I just don't think this is for me. . . I-I'm sorry. . ."


Her worse fears were confirmed when Nathan clutched his hat with a bit more force. His normally cheerful expression wavered for but a moment before he caught himself and corrected it. "Eh, don't sweat it! We'll find something for you yet!" With that, he slipped his hat back onto his head. "You should head back home; you've got a long walk ahead of you. Would you like me to come with you?"


"I-I'll be fine. . ." The faunus replied, her hooves gently beating on the ground beneath them. "T-Take care of yourself, o-okay. . ?"


"I should be telling you that."

---

There was nothing more comforting to her then her home. It was one of the few things that always stayed the same. The cabin was a product of love and sweat. Thomas was a man who enjoyed problems he could solve with his own hands. Most of Minnows memories of him involved the two of them sitting on a chair side-by-side one another as Thomas whittled away at a block of wood. She would watch him work all day, cutting the block down until it was a new toy for her or a small statuette of figures she didn't recognize to add to his collection. Calloused as his hands were, Thomas could never learn to work bone like the others. When it came time to build his home he had to call in every favor owed to get the amount of wood he needed to build his home himself. Many of the villagers were quite verbal about how strange his house looked but he always joked about how magical it felt to Minnow.


He was right about this of course, the home did feel magical to her, but for the wrong reason. When she was a kid this held true but now, fully grown, the magic came not from the wooden house but the memories they held. As Minnow stepped into her home she ran her pale fingers along the doorframe, feeling for the notches carved into it. They marked her height as she grew, each one of them only a few inches higher than the one before it. One by one she felt them with slender but worked fingers. They started when she was five, ending abruptly seven notches later. There was but one more thing carved into this door frame, a simple set of initials reading: "T.M"


Every item in this house held one of their initials, a collection of T.M's and M.M's that catalogued every memory she cherished. Once, her fathers' initials outnumbered hers; now she had carved so many statuettes of her own that she was beginning to close the gap. It was difficult to teach herself how to whittle, she had cut her fingers more times then she could remember, but it was a small price to pay to keep that memory of him alive.


Minnow was stalling. Several minutes had passed since she felt that last notch on the door. She had made preparations to visit her father this morning long before Nathanial had visited. On the living room table sat a vase that held a collection of white poppies, and next to it a small wooden statuette of a lamb. She stalled because she feared having to confess to him the reason why she was late to visit him today. Alas, this was the one task Minnow dared not put off. With nothing more then a quiet sigh, she stepped inside and plucked the bouquet from the vase and scooped up the wooden lamb into her hands. She held the items close to her chest as she turned right back around to leave the house for one last time today.

 

[Mglo]

The first scream in the distance to be heard made statues of them all. Few though they were, they stood facing the same direction, all confusion and wild-eyed search. It was Gain who recognized the sound of splintering destruction, but it was the larger scale of it that actually frightened him. "Something's wrong," he said, instinctively reaching for Ninli who had seemed so weak and tired since the Ambergris collecting ordeal.

The ancestral worship grotto had been decorated for the occasion, though it had always been a place well taken care of and visually revered. Yet the scattered luminescent pools shone brighter from within their intricately designed vases, and the velum that fluttered on sinew strung from stalactite to stalagmite was more abundant and vibrant. The entrance was an open one, much too large to be guarded by the few who had forgone some of the main festival attractions to visit the ancestral collective and thank Cadia for her gift.

Ninli and Gain had only just finished cleaning the little shrine she had asked Gain to build for her family in her youth. They had returned to Cadia too soon.

Someone screamed, "Guard the entrance!" while others stood or knelt before their shrines to Cadia.

Ninli clung to Gain uncharacteristically, one hand gripping him tightly while the other clutched at her chest. Whatever potential danger he and the other Cadians were worried about was not the one in her thoughts. "You want to go help," she told him, "go, I'll stay here and help stand guard. The commotion sounds far off enough that it shouldn't reach our ancestors. It'll be fine."

Around them, families were strengthening foundations, shielding, or standing by the entrance with a fierce protectiveness. It amazed Ninli to see it from people who had never stepped outside of Her wallskin, or been exposed to any real danger, but she also knew any harmless startling noise would elicit the same reaction. This place was precious. Sacred. Very much loved and seen in a much similar way that Gain now looked at her.

"No," he told her even as he guided her further in, back to the shrine he'd built, "we'll stay here until we know more. Then we go home."

The man that had taken charge at the threshold yelled "HALT!" to the few people running in their direction. They looked frantic and out of breath, their eyes searching for their shrines and looking up as if calling upon Cadia. "Speak!" continued the man who had taken charge, "what's happening?"

"Let me through!" one demanded.
"Cadia give me strength! At the Red Specter! A big creature!" another one panted as she spoke between great breaths.
"There's a panic, I ran here to make sure no chaos was brought here," added a third as he held on to the first who was still demanding to be let through, "calm yourself man! This is no way to act among our elders."

Ninli instinctively moved her hand from her chest to her earring, running her finger over the etched rune. A habit rooted in her desire to preserve, to keep things unchanged as much as possible. The source and strength of her magic. Even now she felt it flowing though there was nothing she was outwardly directing it towards. The ambergris shock she had received seemed to have left a fissure as it were, leaving her tired from a spilling of magic she struggled to seal. At least, this had been her attempt at explaining it to Gain, but she didn't really understand it herself.

"One creature," Gain repeated in a whisper. Somehow she knew what he was thinking and spoke before he said it.

"Let's stay here a little longer. We'll hear more after it's all over, which I'm sure will be soon with people armed with ambergris and all. Then we'll go home after, yes? We haven't even shared the sweets or placed our offerings." She tugged at his hand, wanting him to stop worrying at least a little bit about her, especially with the impossible tale of a big creature inside Cadia.

 

[unanun]

As Cadia filled and emptied her lungs, the shift of bones and cartilage in her ribcage produced seasonal snaps, which always echoed throughout Cadia near the summer and winter solstice.

The first crack was only noticed by the patrol members in the atrium, who ceased the charm of their oscillating drumbeat and tilted their heads ceilingwards. The antlion kept frustrating Gorhal, who swung his axe at the edge of its trap pit as it extended pincers right above the lip, only to pull them back at the last moment. The second, third, fourth and so on came in even intervals, quicker and faster than the water gong in Atrium, and gradually the boiling activity on the ground ceased as Cadians looked up.

A Pleuris streaked through the air, weighed down by a glittering payload. It jerked forward and upward with each flap of its wings, shedding golden dust with a crack that was caught by the bowl of the amphitheater.

"Antlion!"
​

Her battle cry rang throughout Atrium. Even the antlion came out to answer the call, and one of its front pincers was immediately lopped off by Gorhal, who was then tossed off the stage by a swing of its mandible.

"Thou dare challenge the Patrol inside of Cadia?"​

Calm fell from above to smother the tension in Atrium, and the spears stiffened upright at attention. In the stillness where no one dared exhale, a red and black shooting star flew past, dropping a shimmering spore. With the power of ambergris, Adelheid descended like a feather, clad in star iron, cape dragging through the air.

The audience slowly returned to their seats as her toes touched the stage. She extended her hand out to the curtains and gave a thumbs up to the orc, who retreated with a mock bow. Sekani's red rope snaked through the air underneath her cape, and the fabric began to move like a mischievous cuttlefish. The antlion did not miss this motion, and its pancaked-body turned to the Adelheid, mandibles vibrating with challenge as it peeled itself from the pit, low to the ground.

She stepped left, it shuffled right.
She stepped right, it shuffled left.​

The antlion lunged for her torso, but it only found a wisp of her cape. The cloth undulated, drawing the antlion in with maddening hypnotism; it was baited again and again, mandibles going under an arm, skimming her leg, and just over the helmet with enough strength to crush bone, each missed bite snapping on empty air amidst the backdrop of an nearly inaudible giggle from the curtains.

The taunting continued for many more rounds until the antlion's intelligence caught up - it retreated, exhausted, into its pit as Adelheid gave the insect a bow to more applause. Adelheid advanced to the lip of the crater, but the antlion did not take the bait of the cape, and the stump of its foreleg caught her squarely in the chest, smearing her uniform blue and throwing her back many steps.

Iman gasped, squeezing Grandpa's hand with two tiny ones until the nails dug into flesh. "It's just a show, Iman!" Grandpa softly passed his hand through Iman's hair. "Watch, the Captain-Commander will not lose! Look!" Captain Adelheid raised her hand high. She triumphantly showed the crowd her unharmed front, the star iron gleaming virgin underneath the cut cloth.

She unclasped her cape, and it flew off her armour as she stepped into the antlion's trap. Her metaled fists rang against chitin, resonating to an almost painful level under Cadia's dome, as she parried all of the lunges and suffered only cuts in return, diving beneath the insect to its blind spot. She squatted and braced her palms against the softer underbelly, flipping the antlion over with a mighty press, and dodged the flailing legs to mount, reaching for her dagger to deliver the killing blow.

"Watch out!" Iman's warning was too late, as a pincer caught her side and sent her spinning out of the pit. "Grandpa!" He bounced on his seat as desperation welled in his voice. "Grandpa!!! Help her!"

Abraham gripped the spear until his knuckles were white against the handle, and it took all of his will to keep the other hand in Iman's relaxed and calm. He dared to doubt and looked about – no other spear tip had moved. The antlion advanced from its trap, mandibles leaking predigestive fluid that smoked and spat on the stage. It approached the crumpled form of Adelheid, the strength of its mandibles more than enough to crush her skull through the star iron helmet. The crowd began to shift, gathering its screams into a crescendo as the toothed jaws opened on each side of her head. Gorhal was climbing back onto the stage, his roar just a bit louder than all the rest.

​

The sword sang as it leapt from its scabbard, dull grey Cadian iron flecked with shavings of stars. The antlion retreated with a hiss, blue haemolymph oozing where its mandible was shortened in half by the arcing cut. Adelheid stood without the crutch of sword or brace of arm, the blade pointed up and prideful, glistening blue and held strong in the arm that bled red.

​

Adelheid flicked the haemolyph from her sword, and two bone spears struck true into the thorax of the antlion. Its legs spasmed and lifted, trying to scratch a sudden itch that it could not reach, and it flinched against the beam of light that Adelheid flashed into its compound eyes with the flat of her sword. It tried to retreat back into its pit, but slipped on its own blue puddle as Adelheid closed the gap.

Her sword moved with greater precision than an osteomancer, the point finding membranes of the joints and digging deep with explosions of haemolymph. Two limbs fell off this way. The antlion's mandibles spasmed wide open in a silent wail as it tried to scrabble backwards with its remaining three-and-a-half limbs, each movement slower than the last.

The show was well within its final act now. Adelheid slowed and paced two times around the insect. Each circuit she paused at a whole limb and dropped her sword like an axe, taking off a limb straight through the chitin with clean power. With only two whole limbs left, the antlion collapsed to the floor, the four other coxa flailing in the air and spurting blue. She finally paused at the front of the antlion, and it seemed to wince as it tilted its head up, its compound eyes reflecting her blue-and-red form a thousand times.

e
s
t
o
c
a
d
a
!​

The blade found home in the antlion's head, and the insect finally stilled. Adelheid was doubled over and her panting was loud in the hush, but in one motion she pulled her mask off, slicked her sweat soaked hair back, and turned to the crowd.

​

Iman cheered with complete abandon as the crowd surged to the stage and Gorhal hoisted Adelheid on his shoulders. Her cape flew up from the stage and clasped itself around her neck as the red ribbon returned somewhere into the curtains. Grandpa held fast to the boy's hand, refusing to let him join, as Iman swung an imaginary sword through the air and whooped.

Barbaric. He bit back tears. Oh, Taber, if only you could see how they glorify the patrol today …

Monsters from women!

---

END OF CHAPTER 1​

 

[fatalrendezvous]

Chapter 2: The Search

"That's enough." Kolmi's voice dripped with irritation.​

Tavolt ceased with his recounting of the events at The Red Specter, and the small council chambers fell quiet, finally. For the past several hours it seemed as if the entire space had been filled with the man's incessant and tangential taleweaving. Regardless how colorful his descriptions may have been, they had danced around the subject all evening and were still no closer to an answer.

He was seated in a lone chair at the end of the room, bound by iron shackles at the wrists. Directly across from him, Captain Adelheid had stilled from her pacing during her questioning and was now pinching the bridge of her nose with a gloved hand. "None of this has been relevant. But thank you, for that..." She grit her teeth. "Gripping, tale, Mr. Arou."

"Certainly, it's what I'm best at. As I said, this is all an unfortunate coincidence and a simple misunder—"

"That's. Enough." Kolmi echoed her previous sentiment, more pointedly this time, hoping to drive the point into Tavolt's skull.

Kolmi and the other four individuals comprising the Council of Cadia were seated behind Adelheid at a modest, rectangular wooden table. "Mr. Arou," Barca interjected, his tone apologetic. "Thank you. I believe the Council has what it needs. Captain? Keep Mr. Arou for now while the Council reaches a decision."

Adelheid turned to the councilors table, gave a formal bow at the waist, and promptly took hold of the prisoner's chains to lead the both of them out of the small council room. As the door shut behind them, Barca appeared to adjust his jaw, as though he'd just chewed for too long on stale bread.

"I don't think he did it," murmured Tora, the representative from the Cutters, her hands wringing in concern for what that conclusion might mean. "He was rather convincing."

"He's an actor, it's his job to be convincing," Kolmi interjected, her palm cradling her forehead, thumb and forefinger massaging at the centers of her brows. "But fortunately for him... I think I agree. I don't think he's lying."

A weight descended upon the air in the council chambers, thick and suffocating. Kolmi had never been outside the bounds of Cadia before, but she imagined the air out there must be something like this.

Ulmar, the councilor representing the Keepers, cleared his throat and lifted a paw to adjust the round frames of his glasses. "If we are in agreement that this Tavolt Arou is not behind the antlion attack, then it seems we are out of options. We have interviewed dozens, questioned several, with no answers to show for it." He pulled in a deep breath through his snout and released. "We must at least entertain the possibility that the antlion did actually penetrate the surface on its own."

Barca cut in. "If so, then there must be a nest. No way an antlion burrowed all the way in to Atrium from the underside of Cadia." His eyes became glossy and unfocused as memories of his time in the Patrol came flooding back to him. "If there is a nest, then what we saw was a scout, and we should expect more antlion sightings over the next few days."

Kolmi's forehead remained buried in her hand as if she might massage away the worry lines. "Councilors Barca and Ulmar. If there is a nest, would it be right to assume that Cadia's health may not be as good as we believed?"

They shared a glance, and Ulmar lowered his head. "If that's correct, then we may have been very premature in celebrating the emergence of ambergris. An insect nest in Cadia's underbelly would be..."

"Disastrous."​

 

[Oxymoron]

The fence that surrounded the property was one of the few things made of Cadia. Spires of bones protruded from the ground like posts, her father having carved slots into the ivory to fit in planks of wood to form the walls of the fence itself. Once the whole property would've been covered from house to fence with crops. Now the crops only reached about halfway to the fence, only a handful of meters from the steps of her home. The rest was all growing into tall blades of seafoam colored grass that she used as hay for her flock. She walked down the beaten path between the fields as she clutched her father's gifts in her arms. Several months ago she had planted sinew stalks, a cereal grass who's grain would feed her and their dry stalk would serve as her flocks bedding. They had grown almost as tall as her now.

There was only ever one problem with her home. The fence wasn't quite secure enough to stop particularly small lambs from squeezing through the gaps if they tried hard enough. She could hear the gentle beating of hooves as she approached the fence gate. The Faunus leaned over the fence to have a look, spotting a young lamb with its body halfway across the wooden barrier. It had gotten itself stuck and was wiggling in an attempt to break free and go explore the world beyond the fence. A quiet giggle escaped Minnow as she squatted low to whisper to it.

"Lillia. . . You know its dangerous out there for you."

The lamb's wiggling came to a stop when she heard her name, rearing its head back to look at the Faunus. A quiet bleat escaped her as she relaxed her body expectantly. Minnow placed her items on the floor before reaching out to grasp the lamb, gently lifting its legs for it so she could guide it back to this side of the fence before placing her back down onto the ground. Instantly Lillia began to prance excited circles around her, jumping occasionally as Minnow laughed contently. She picked up her items and stood again before she began to guide Lillia back to her enclosure. The lamb knew to stick close to her all the way up until she opened the gate. She promptly pattered away to join her parents, who had already separated from the group to welcome back their faun.

"You all behave yourselves while I'm gone, p-please! I'm going to go visit f-f-father. . ." Minnow announced to the collective council of cuddly cotton creatures. The only response she got was a collection of bleats, baas, and breaths. She sucked in a breath and gave the items in her arms another squeeze before she turned around to leave the comfort of her home. The ambergris festival was the farthest she had been from her cabin in her whole life. At most she crossed the gate once a month to visit Thomas. Her father stayed close, only a short walk away from her home, but it always took a bit of convincing to get her pale fingers to undo the lock of that gate.

The journey there was always a slow one. Despite how much she loved her father she always felt her heart grow heavy whenever she went to visit him. Not because she felt uncomfortable but because she couldn't help but feel that he wouldn't have approved of her decision to close herself off from everyone. That, and the walk there always unsettled her. The ground she walked now was fleshy and exposed, but back home her whole property had been layered with dirt so that her crops could flourish. Seeing it was another thing. Out here near the edges of Cadia the soft fleshy floor was exposed. The roof and walls of Cadia were much closer as well, their host's meaty ribs created massive walls around them and the strips of flesh that above them was particularly thin here. Light from the outer world managed to shine through them but not without being tinted an unnatural shade of orange that discolored the already sanguine setting.

Many of the plants here were much more untamed than those closer to the atrium as well. There was a particular breed of shrub that could only grow here, sprouting from certain points in Cadias body and feeding on the natural light and bodily in such a manner that they grew into a wiry shape. Their leaves were long, thin and red, reaching out in every direction in an almost chaotic nature. Minnow had seen pictures in her books of something that resembled their shape and structure, nerve endings. They weren't the only pieces of the environment to grow like this either. Vines that wrapped around the exposed pillars of bones like blood vessels and rocks composed entirely out of aged clumps of blood-soaked moss. Minnow dared not stray from the path she had beaten into the ground in case one of those plants turned out to be carnivorous and had a taste for Faunus. A bit silly perhaps, but she wasn't going to risk it.

The terrain wasn't ever flat either. Blisters and boils littered the ground like pebbles on a cobblestone path. Every so often some orifice would hiss loudly and vent some ghastly bodily vapor that warmed the whole area up. The citizens of Cadia had their whole lives to grow accustomed to the pungent smells, nothing more to them now then a faint tinge in the air. It was never quiet, the muffled sloshing of flowing blood or moaning of some muscle always audible to the denizens. That didn't stop Minnow from jumping at every bubbling of some undefined cesspool or staying perfectly still whenever the flesh she walked on rumbled with discontent. It was never dangerous but the closer to the edges of Cadia one got the more untamed it all looked.

The gravesite wasn't immune to the wiles of outer Cadia. Minnow had spread kelp grass seeds all over the area but the resulting product was an almost alien shade of purple, the seafoam blue of the grass mixing with red of the blood it was feeding on. Even the tree the headstone rested under was flourishing with scarlet blossoms. The mixing of domestic plant species with this untamed environment led to this strange sight, their roots reaching well past the thin layer of dirt she had attempted to spread. As freakish as it was, the tree had become a comforting sign to her. It meant that all she had to do was climb up this short hill to see her father again. A rectangle of stones lined the edges of the grave, designating just where the dirt ended and the flesh began.

A few items were already offered to the grave. A single bouquet of now wilting flowers was placed before it. On its leftmost side was a collection of wooden sheep. Every month since she learned how to whittle Minnow had offered a statuette to her father, numbering twenty-nine. Today she offered her thirtieth, kneeling by the grave's side to place it down at the end of the line they were organized in. The flowers came next, her still sleeved hand reaching out to replace the wilted bouquet with a fresh batch. She placed them on her lap as she shifted her weight to fold her arms atop the gravestone. Her hand passed its dusty surface once, its engraving memorized by her and her alone.

Here lies Thomas Matthew
Honored councilman, farmer, and peacekeeper.
Father to one, friend to all.​

Minnow took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly before she whispered to the headstone. "I-I went to the Atrium today, father. It was just like how you told me. More people than I could count. . . Sights and smells not like our side of Cadia. . . I-It was almost too much but. . . Nathan was with me. . . A-And I met a pair who were nothing but nice to me. . ." A solemn sigh escaped her at the thought. Her fingers felt the bronze key she had hanging from her neck, an item her father insisted she held close on the night of his passing. "I. . . I don't know if I'll see them again. . . there was an incident. . . A bug or something got into the theatre. . . I-I wasn't there but Nathan tells me this has never happened before. . . I know you probably wished something more for me but I like it here at home, where everything is always the same. . ."

As if on cue, the sudden sound of droplets hitting the ground prompted Minnow to look up from the site. A singular vermillion blossom of her father's tree was wilting now, their petals swollen with sickly fluids. It fell free from their branch and landed at her side with a wet thud. Cautiously, she stretched an arm out to pick up the bloom. It was drowned, the gentlest movements releasing an oily colored fluid onto her hand. The smell of it was outright vile, the liquid uncomfortably warm. A cough was pulled from her as she tossed the blossom to a side. Her heart was beginning to race. What did this mean? The tree's roots reached much deeper into Cadia then any of her other crops and fed on her fluids. If the tree was getting sick, what did this mean for Cadia?

No. She was being paranoid, surely. A little bit of bad blood was lethal to fragile flowers, but Cadia was much stronger than that.

 

[strangeatlas]

"You can't keep calling them freak accidents if they happen over and over." Coiran stares at Tav. His wrinkled brows cast thin shadows across his forehead. Behind Coiran's knee, Gemmi listens, hiding half her face. Tav lies propped up in a bed in the infirmary, his unwashed hair slick and his blankets patched with blood and other stains. A soft grey bandage is wrapped tightly around his otherwise exposed chest. Bright red dots are sprinkled across the left side. His left leg is splinted on a piece of bonewood, and his exposed toes are a slightly purple tint of red.

"Look, Coiran, I can't sleep because my leg throbs incessantly, I haven't been able to take a proper shit in three days, and the whole town thinks I did this all to myself because I'm a petty fool. I'm not about to stomach another lecture from you right now." His brow also hardens as he looks out the window, "Thanks for coming to see me, I'm fine, so, until next time, good luck to you."

Coiran opens his mouth to reply, pauses, and closes it, thinking.

Thrusting forward with blazing eyes, Tav yells, "MAYBE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, I'M TELLING YOU TO GET THE FUCK OUT!"

Gemmi gapes with fear, then slowly lets out a wail. With unchanged expression, Coiran smoothly puts on his pack and hoists her to his shoulder. Without another word, he strides past the guards and out of the room.

As the cries linger down the hall, Tav's face softens, and then grimaces. Clutching a pillow and shoving it hard over his face, he empties his lungs with a scream. As he does, the dots of red on his left steadily grow. He places the pillow aside and picks up a pen and his unfinished script.




Gemmi's face is still swollen and wet with tears, but she'd fallen fast asleep on Coiran's shoulder. He continues softly humming her favorite lullaby as he approaches the infirmary attendant.

Asking over Tav's wounds, Coiran is impressed with the talent of the healer who saved Tav's life. "Elira is her name? Do you happen to know where I may find her? I would be grateful for the chance to thank her."



The streets are buzzing with gossip and intrigue. A few stalwart merchants try to preserve the mood of the festival, but few customers buy it.

Come on, could Arou really even do it?
You kiddin'? That's right up ol' Tav's playbook. Used to be quite the lovers, they say.

Coiran weaves through the crowd as carefully as he can, but after bumping into a few passersby, Gemmi wakes and asks about the decorations.

..see the way Adelheid took out it's...

Coiran raises his voice over the roar of the town square, "Some are thin and gold and wave in the breeze. Tiny flakes of light hover in the air and shine off them. Everywhere there are blues and greens and purples…"

Half the council could have been killed!
Why he not been banished yet, eh? Who's protectin' 'im?

"...adorning the bolts of cloth that hang over everything. There are so many people here, elves, humans, and I even saw a faceless one pass right by me. We don't see any of those where we live."

…know where they're keepin' him, we should pay him a little…

"Pappi, are they talking about Uncle Tav from the city?" Gemmi is barely audible.
"I don't know, sweetie."

…that's according to the Council, at least.
Don't believe everything the Council tells you, boy.

Finally, Coiran leaves the crowd and starts down an alley which matches the instructions. He finds a small, unassuming wood door with an ornament hanging on it. Coiran breathes deep and sets Gemmi down. He lets down the pack from his back with a groan. The pack lands heavily and some food and clothing spill out.

Coiran is startled. He packs the contents again and checks the buckle. It clasps tight. He tests it. It holds strong. He unbuckles it and quickly unpacks.

"What's wrong Pappi?"

"Nothing, just checking something real quick before we see the healer, sweetie."

The pack is empty to the core. There were no baleens to be found. Gemmi's new eyes were gone. They were suspended in a translucent sac which was reinforced by intricately carved bonewood and polished silver. They look valuable.

He checks side pockets. He unfolds clothes and checks again. He's breathing harder and sweating. He checks and check and checks again. Every corner is pressed, every flap turned. Finally, he swoops up Gemmi and starts back into the street. The pack and contents are strewn and abandoned in the alley.

He's retracing his steps. He studies people left and right. They are too busy with gossip to notice.

"Guard! I need help, someone has stolen something very important to me."

"Sorry, friend, we're all under orders to investigate the incident at Specter. I'm not even supposed to be here, but I was starving"

"Pappi, what's wrong, why are you so scared?"

Coiran doesn't answer, instead, he seeks out and seizes a scabby-looking man who was wandering aimlessly about the square. Coiran turns his pockets out: nothing but a few scraps of cloth and a baleen.

Coiran stands lost in the swirl of movement and the incessant gossip around him.

Look at those two! Council's gotta act, look, people are losin' their nerve already.

Gemmi was crying again, but all Coiran can do is bob her gently as he circles the square.

 

[unanun]

"I would like nothing more," sweetly intoned the majordom of the Red Specter, "than to help you. You can imagine that we, out of everyone in Cadia, can hardly wait to close the curtains on this incident so that we can move forward." He adjusted the sheer fabric that swathed his body, baubles and bracelets on his wrists excessively punctuating all of his motions.

Behind him was enough destruction to last months of repair. So many bone seats were warped by Patrol magicks, sprouting arrows or spears like baleen, some snapped or littered all over the bowl of the amphitheater, having rolled down the stairs to the foot of the stage. The stage was a write-off, the irreplaceable wood of a long lost tree shredded and warped to match the tatters of the red curtains, which hung off the massive metal rods like a piece of wallskin. A conspicuous, thick blue trail ran all the way up the stairs to the ground level of Atrium, the edges of the stripe digested black by dried hemolymph.

"It's just that, well, you can see that we are in the process of salvaging as much of the unique material as we can. As you surely know, wool and wood can only be harvested and shaped once. Ah, were there an osteomancer for wood!"

Opposite the majordom, Adelheid was clad in a white tunic, with the only decoration a nearly invisible silver circlet and her star iron sword. Her eyes refocused from a glassy blankness, and she continued to speak, oblivious to what had just been said. "This afternoon we will be investigating the backstage as well as the areas under the stage. Please clear your attendants from the area as a patrol squad will combing over the-"

"Please!" The majordomo reached forward with a beseeching hand, but jerked it back, curling his fingers in impotent concern. "Please, Captain, let us have one more - half a day, for our carpenters to harvest what we can!"

The gong of the water clock marked noon as luminescence peaked. The two stared each other down, until the majordomo finally acquiesced with a fair amount of hand wringing.

"The inspection will be quick." Adelheid nodded forward a group of masked patrollers, uniformly kitted with buckler and spear. "As long as we don't find anything."

 

[Itari]

Zuzen ran his hand over the splintered wood, smoothing it over into one piece again. With a sigh, he pulled the once broken stand upright and then walked back into the house. "Ma? I fixed the stand!" The festival had been a disaster. Celia had unfortunately picked a spot near The Red Specter to set up shop, and the stand and the majority of their wares had been destroyed in the stampede. Luckily, with Zuzen's ability they wouldn't have to spend too much money in repairs, but they had lost a large amount of potential revenue. Zuzen went into the kitchen to get a cup of water. He had spent the whole morning fixing the broken stand and salvaging the broken bits to be used in later projects. Now that he was finished, though he would finally have time to fix his broken ray.

"How did you fix the stand so fast?"

Zuzen almost spit out his water. Celia stood in the doorway eyeing him suspiciously, "W-What do you mean?"

Celia walked over to him and began checking his pockets, "You're a horrible liar, Zuzen. Also, you suck at working with wood. It takes you forever. Even longer than metal. I know you still have the ambergris!"

Zuzen attempted to dance around his sister. With all the chaos that had happened at the festival, no one had come to collect the small piece of borrowed ambergris. Zuzen had figured it wouldn't be a big deal if he kept it for a little while longer. "I wasn't going to keep it ok! I just- I just thought it'd be easier to fix all our broken stuff if I had it!"

"Aha!" Celia wrested the small piece of Ambergris from him and then wrestled him to the ground. For a moment she simply sat staring at it, a look of longing on her face. Then she pulled him into a headlock. "Make me a new hair brush and I'll give it back. Make me a bigger desk and I won't tell anyone you stole it."

Zuzen struggled in vain to escape, "Fine. Just let me up." Celia gave him a sympathetic pat on the head before handing the ambergris back to him and going back to work on the loom. She had also been working all morning to replace all of the ruined stock. Zuzen went to his workshop feeling slightly guilty. Thanks to the ambergris, a task that should have taken him all day had only taken him a few hours. Meanwhile, Celia would be stuck on the loom for the next few days, and unlike Zuzen, she did not enjoy her work. He reached for the key he kept on a necklace around his neck.

The key was gone. Zuzen frantically searched through his pockets, then raced to his bedroom and emptied all his desk drawers. Gone. Gone. Gone! He went out to the garden to search the area he had been repairing the stand. Nothing. Had he lost it at the festival during the commotion? He walked dejectedly back into the kitchen and slumped into a chair. Celia poked her head around the corner, "What happened?"

With the ambergris, he could easily reshape the door and gain access to the workshop. But the key was much more than just a way to get into the workshop. It was the last thing his father had made for him before passing. He held up the small stolen trinket, "Karma."

 

[unanun]

Abraham gasped awake to black and could not breathe. The vellum of the tent was smothering him, the antlion crushing his ribs as it scrabbled over and caught Taber in its pincers. He dragged his hands out, bloodied by the serrated underbelly, and tried to wrest the vellum off of his face.

His hands met the soft leather of a patrol mask. He slid the straps from the back of his head and broke the poor seal around his beard, sucking the rush of cool air as he left the humid confines of the mask.

Since the Red Specter, Abraham was jerked awake like this more often than not. As the adrenaline of the incident faded, memories of antlions began to take over his dreams. The membrane of his home suddenly looked porous, like the vellum of his tent in the wilds, and a paranoid mistrust had him reaching for a mask on many nights.

His tongue was dry and there was a pressure in his belly. Abraham rolled from the spongiform bed and grabbed a half-ring of wood and toilet hatchet to relieve himself. He knew that there was a latrine in their home, but preferred to go outside.

The outside was never truly dark; even if the fungus temporarily ceased their luminescence, there was always the faint glow of the stars in the sky. Outside, at the outskirts of Atrium, was almost pitch black, and Abraham mostly navigated by the feel of his bare feet. He trudged a short way from the entrance until the cobblestone gave way to compacted dirt and skin. He stepped off the path and found an exposed patch of flesh, in which he cut a cross with the hatchet, worked the opening apart with the handle, and set the wood half-ring on top to form a toilet. As he listened to the sound of water trickling on leather, he cupped his chin and tried to make out anything in the dark. On Cadia's ceiling some growths twinkled faintly, like how he remembered the stars outside.








. ✦ ˚ . . ✦ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ , . . ﾟ . ✦ , . . . . . ✦ , , ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ . . . ˚ . , . . ✦ ✦ . . ✦ . . . . . . ˚ . ✦ ✦ ﾟ . . ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ , * . . ✦ ˚ * . ✦

Abraham started awake and stared wildly around. Next to him was a humanoid shape, and he snapped his fingers to summon a flame in his palm. It illuminated the corpse of Taber, covered in a fine, white, translucent, hair-like fungus, his fingers rigidly flexed in hyperextension. He had not worn his mask to sleep that night, and a leak in the tent had killed him.

He yanked his linens up and retreated home, following the small glow of the flame in his outstretched hand. A terrible nausea began to boil in his stomach, borne from what he could only consider to be a hideous portent. Surely, he thought as he fumbled the door open and shakily poured glofluid into a the lamp, leaking dim light into his bedroom, surely antlions had appeared in Cadia before. He would check with the Keepers tomorrow.

 

[strangeatlas]

Yesterday, we saw the remnants of another patrolman in the wastes past Yawny Rock. I'd told my son the sight of it disturbed me, keeping my fears for the morrow to myself. I'd seen sketches like that in books, but never thought I'd see it on an excursion, especially this, my son's first.

Early this morning, a black spec appeared on the horizon, drifting. Its great mass now hovers above, circling, circling, out of bowshot. Our masks, like blinders, block it from our sight. I know it's there. I can feel its cold hunger, its tireless gaze. I've kept my gaze forward, and my son doesn't know a thing. Praise be in Her name. It is said it strikes in the dark. My mind fills with a black silhouette against the stars, rows of daggers that know no difference between armor and flesh. A brief moment to bear. I pray it takes Hama first.

I used to dream of an open field under the clear sky. I would run until exhaustion took me and I'd collapse on the earth, staring up at the multitude of stars. My body would float and rise. I'd find myself surrounded by pure light, my breath, clear and cool. My first venture, while my comrades peeled from the shudders, I gazed up at that wondrous expanse, forgot all that I knew, and fell in love again.

Hama is now asleep, and so I removed my mask. Dusk creeps across the horizon, stars unveiling their majesty. I can finally hear the wind tickle the mukgrass and the mushtrees groan. I can breathe freely now. I feel my body grow weightless. I pray Hama's soul finds its way back to the grove of ancestors. I pray his mother finds him there. My soul will not, for I was never bound to the confines of flesh, be it mine or Cadia's. No, my soul will float, ever skyward, and dwell among the stars. Look for me there.

Archive article number 1404HG
Journal discovered among the remains of father and son, three cadlengths from Yawny Rock.
Suspected death from Selachimorpha

 

[Mglo]

The burst of a bioluminescent sphere broke the silence, splattering the surrounding flora with its glow. "Did you see that!" cackled the perpetrator, "that one had a lot of water, almost looked like pudgy poriferas from the outside. D'ya think that's what the meeting call's about? The next drift? Think we're getting a speed up? Now we have the Cuda it's been a little different no? They gotta listen. TO THE STARS!" He swung the branch again as they approached the next marking post, sending another sphere flying into the air, but it was a dud.

"Doubt it. Emran's just a Cuda, but he hasn't got the pull himself yet. D'you think he'd be in the Nudi branch if he did? Nah, we managed to get him coz he's still green," she said pointing at a bioluminescent burst ahead of them, "looks like we're right on track and on time. No other idiot goes for the land markers like you two, except she's punctual and we're usually not."

---

"We can steer, we can near!
With Orfera Nudi at the wheel!
We can sigh, say goodbye!
Rig and his inerrancy!
We can sail, we can sail
SAIL AWAY! SAIL AWAY! SAIL AWAY!"​

The song echoed at the edge of Cadia, stemming from the trio as they approached each other. One followed the song after the other until they met at the crossroads, upon which they grasped each other shoulder to shoulder to continue their song.

"We can reach, we can beach!
On the shores of CADIA!
We can laugh, call the march!
With the Cuda hand in hand!
We can sail, we can sail
SAIL AWAY! SAIL AWAY! SAIL AWAY!"​

They continued on, adding the names of their comrades where the silly song allowed.

---

"How much you want to bet, I can steer two of them sheep like I'm gliding on a slice of glass rock over the fields of star creeper fungi?"

Laughter followed as they both remembered the attempt that had ended in the loss of two fingers, a patch of skin, and an observational quarantine. Finally, as the laughter died down, a wicked gleam in the other's eye accompanied their reply, "I'll give you one drop of irukan for the attempt my friend, because there's no way you're riding one sheep let alone two! But it'll be worth the front row seat!"

"Oh shit, you've still got some? You're not messing with me are you? You're really going to give me a drop? Seriously? Just for the attempt? Cadia be my witness, I'm making a fool of you my friend!" he replied while he jumped the fence and sped towards the herd of sheep.

"You gotta herd them like the barrier feeding those bottlenose predators do!" his companion egged on from behind the fence, "you remember? We had to hide under the cape of a demersal algae for five hours!"

Emran silently walked up next to him, not bringing attention to himself until he spoke, "attempting to tame the perilous ragings of sheep? For your sake, I won't say anything if you pick up the pace. Rig won't be impressed if you're both late to the call, and more so why that might be the case."

The sheep chaser ended his chase as soon as he turned and caught sight of the unmistakable blue hood of the Cuda as he walked past at a brisk pace. "Did he say anything to you?" The sheep chaser asked after jumping the fence for a second time. "Shouldn't we all walk together?"

"I'm kind of embarrassed too. C'mon, let's just follow him. We've still got a ways to go tailward. We don't want to be late."

---

The faint sound of bone hitting bone had sung fifteen drops since the last stragglers had reached the cavernous meeting point. Yet the Nudi crew's call had yet to be addressed, replaced instead by a cacophony of conversations and shouts stacked atop each other. Unofficial meetings brought with them a sense of unity beyond duty. There was a different kind of energy to them than patrol ones. It was the reason why everyone in the crew knew to let the energy bubble over before getting to the heart of things.

"By now you have all heard of the spectacle at the Ambergris festival," Rig said as just as the crowd had reached a good bubbling, he stood from where he'd been perched, his movements instantly silencing the crew. His voice was even, juxtaposed by everyone else's sudden and tense energy. "Lev was witness," he gestured, letting Lev give a sharp nod to his peers, "and this was no spectacle, the antlion was real. He tests us."

His words lingered in the space between the seated crew until one of the new recruits broke the silence, "But Rig! Inside? What does this mean for Mother?"

All eyes turned, not to Rig, but to their leader. She sat quiet, behind him, staring intently at her crew. Her glowing double colored hair framed a strong face, from bright pink strands dangled even brighter orange tips that brushed her russet colored skin and pointed down to her uniform. A uniform of her making, plastered over the base the patrol had requisitioned. Orfera Nudi didn't need to speak to communicate her answer, she lifted her hand over her nose and mouth then moved it down over her lungs with the spread of her fingers. A reminder of their priorities, or so most of the crew understood. But when the eyes of the new wavered, she chose her vessel and gave the order, "Emran of the Cuda will tell you."

Rig may have been her second, but the Cuda name carried weight, and Emran had been forced to wield it rather than carry it for a year now since his transfer. Bodies shifted, some preparing, others listening, curiosity moved others, and a few to indicate respect. To the latter ones Emran had ceased to be just a carrier of the Cuda name, but as the last one to carry it, he embodied an idea of survival.


"The keepers have recorded," Emran began from where he sat cross legged, "the same thing the Cuda of the past would account for as Cadia's history. Except the Cuda would speak with knowledge of the outside, when they say that we have been nurtured and protected by Cadia." Emran focused on the skin of his wrist where the sinew made contact. Every beat of his heart asking for strength. The blue and golden edged hood framed his determined face, but it also hid the beads of sweat that formed across his brow.

"Rig said," he continued, "'He tests us,' because we are still growing. Children cannot look after their mother, until they can look after themselves first. And we are children. So the question is not 'What does this mean for Mother?' but, 'What does this mean for us?'" He let the question fill the air that now buzzed for the set up, "and the answer has always been the same."

"WE SET ADRIFT!" Rig suddenly screamed with passion, and the veterans of the Nudi branch replied, "BY CADIA WE RETURN!"

Bodies sprang to life meeting each other at the center. Amidst the yells, the shoving, and the spontaneous skirmishing, only two remained quiet and still. One belonged to Orfera Nudi, leader of the ill reputed crew, as she let the spiritfire of her people burn. The other belonged to Emran of the Cuda, patrolman by legacy, as he remembered the steady words of a stranger's flow.

"You don't return to Cadia in the end" the words echoed in the forefront of Emran's listening, the Nudi noisemaking reduced to mere background noise, "everything returns to me Emran, and then it is reborn."​

A single trickle of sweat ran down the side of Emran's face.

"WE RETURN! WE RETURN! WE RETURN!" the chant was marked with every push and shove that went every which way.

"Why do you cry, brother Cuda?"

Emran turned his dark eyes to the new recruit who had asked about what the Specter attack had meant for Cadia.

"Is it because we cannot look after Mother until we can look after ourselves? Would you be disappointed if I said I think we can do both?"

Emran's jaw tightened before he vaguely answered, "No. But I would tell you that perhaps you've joined the wrong patrol."

 

[unanun]

(This post is by @E.T. )

There was a soft rush of air, like the breath of Cadia. Bladed talons finding unsteady purchase along the backs of the splintered chairs. "Captain." Ren's greeting was for her but his eyes were already elsewhere. His gaze drifted like spores caught in an indecisive wind, his head tilting along as his eyes traced from the torn curtains down to the fractured floorboards. A soft coo rumbled in Ren's throat as his eyes finally fell to the hole where the insect had met its end.

Long legs folded beneath him and there was the crunch of bone as his grip on the chairs shifted. With his body hunched over and a wash of bright feathers covering his slim frame he looked all the Cadia like a disgruntled hen. Adelheid couldn't help to see how he'd managed to accrue the nickname "Chicken" among his peers. The appearance wasn't helped by the gaudy red of his plumage, or how it rumpled his uniform like some oversized and very poorly stuffed doll. Suppose it was at least some conciliation that he had remembered to arrive in uniform.

The longer Ren looked the deeper his frown became. It wasn't until his brow threatened to overtake his eyes, and he could be heard muttering darkly under his breath did Adelheid draw his attention with a single soft step forward.

"Anything to report from the guild?" The question snapped Ren out of his musings, and he shot back upright, the chair beneath him giving a pained moan beneath him, ready to crumble.

"Nothing, I checked and checked and again and it was nothing and more nothing." He said, breaking the rigid posture of attention to gesture towards the mess of the stage. The failings of formality weren't lost on the Captain, but she reserved such thoughts far below current, more pressing concerns. "There's only minor recent sightings, we're months away from a true breeding season, antlions are even atypical diggers. The maps even have shown that their typical ellipsis is leagues away from here. I just…" Ren took a breath, deflating as he looked to his Captain meekly.

"Couldn't be that their maps be wrong." Came the cool and disinterested voice of a Patrolmen. Now where the Patrol weeded out the brash and exuberant, the map makers had a certain need for those that lacked the temperance to keep themselves from glancing over the next hill. It was said it was a deep seeded pride whispered from one generation to the next that kept the young coming to kindle the guild's consuming fire for knowledge.

With a small hop Ren dismounted from the chair, sending the fractured halves of spears skittering across the floor as he charged towards the Patrolman. A hiss of spellwork barely formed rustling among feathers that had begun to settle, now sprung back to a full and indignant height. Crashing to a halt toe to toe with the masked Patrolman his wings flared and he stretched up till he was at the end of his toes. Puffed and strained up he managed to bring himself up nearly level with the other man's nose.

"Wrong? Wrong! Do you even know what that means! We are in the fifth cycle, that should mean the antlions should be at least ten and a half leagues SOUTH, if they are here that means that we are two cycles ahead, which means that we are nearly to a full Hydell bloom which MEANS we are four months behind in preparations. AND if that's not enough that would mean that the Patrol will CLEARLY be the next hit, because if the cycles are off the next Patrol will be walking straight into a complete and utter fu-"

"REN." Adelheid's voice cut Ren right back down to size. Shoulders folded forward in a guilty slouch and his feathers fell back down against his body, the soft rustling of deflation, a body taking shape from out of the angry puff. "You can help or return to your duties."

"Yes Ma'am."

Tck
Tck
Tck
The sounds of snaps and crashes as the Patrolmen dispersed and continued their search through the rubble was to the tempo of a dejected tapping. Ren, now retreated to a higher perch to one side of the theater, kept his head low and his gaze idle, one talon tapping against the bone pole he'd chosen for a roost, pale white beginning to show under its brown finish.

"This side is clear."
"Here too."
"Tracks through here, but no sign a' where it came in."
The sweep was slow and meticulous, but for such a large creature cutting such a clear swath of destruction, there seemed little sign of how it had made such a grand entrance.
"Conclusions?"
"Hard saying Captain, took a minute for the bug to show proper. All them actors running about, could be some a' the signs have been covered."
The words drew Majordam from the shadows, red creeping up from his collar.
"I assure you that we would have done nothing of the sort." He said clutching at his silks as he picked and stepped through the debris.
Crack
Silken shoes proved to have less hold then the leather soled boots favored by the Patrolmen as another shower of mortar and bone was sent rolling down the aisle way. Hand polished beads in hues of red and yellow that had once adorned the curtains made it the furthest. Reaching the end of the chairs and to the flat floor before the stage, they bounced off what had once been a stage for a conductor, uprooted and missing one side where a Patrolman had snatched some of it for a weapon. The beads came to a lazy halt before starting to roll again, back towards the stage they went with a slow amble that saw most caught up and stopped among the wreckage, until it was but the last one that made it to the stage, a gentle tap against the front panels of bone.

A heavy thump drew a startled gasp from the Majordam followed by a horrified squeal as the man watched Ren grab for some of the remaining curtain, the pop of threads heard as he tore even more beads from the fabric's edge.

"Wha-what is he doing! Do you have any idea how much those–" a raised hand from Adelheid brought the Majordom to a spluttering halt. A crow hop down, and Ren raised his hands like a farmer sowing his field, watching them tumble and roll this way and that in interest. One by one, like boats called back to harbor, each turned its path. A soft chorus of clicks, taps, and tinks as the beads sought a path towards the stage, and as the last rolled to a halt the only sound left was the Majordam softly whining. The Patrolmen sprung again to action, alighting onto the stage, and past slights forgotten, Ren was quick to join them.
"There's space under the stage." Red said as he disappeared behind the stage. "An entrance where an actor can drop down for some shows, but it's been a couple shows since it's been needed."
His feathers floated across the theater, disembodied from him as he continued his search for the stage control levers. It was a rather clever bit of design, completely custom for The Red Spector. A series of rope and weights all connected to pulleys and levers, it allowed the small group of stage hands to control the set, the curtains, and in one particularly memorable play they had even made a performer look like they were flying. There was frustrated grunt, a crunch, and then the pained squeaking of a broken mechanism being forced back to life. The stage shuttered, and one man leap back startled as the floor beneath him began to move. First it sank ever so slightly before it opened to a black maw.

Inside the maw where there should have been priceless wood was a bloated hole of flesh, raw and bleeding, that opened into dirt and the dark.

 

[Kuno]

Xola

⬤ ⭘

Interactions

collab with @ItariChan

Cadia

everywhere

⭘ ⬤

Rot in the underbelly eventually corrupted the entirety of the body. Not just the body – the soul. It applied to a man, a house, a society…a world and its inhabitants.

The luminescent sky of Cadia was tainted now. The fibrous veins held dark, pooled shadows of figurative poison, and the ambergris bounty that had so far heralded joy and prosperity bespoke of nature's retribution. A price for their prize; Cadians had gotten greedy, and now…

Cadia didn't feel safe anymore.

"Careful."

Xola was used to the inner rimmed edge of Cadia that stood as a buffer between there and Beyond. While abated, the presence of the dangerous outdoors was felt more strongly here. The rot that had manifested at the festival, that heavy thrum of ill will that had followed the rogue antlion, it whispered here from the ground, leaving one's skin flush with discomfort.

But she and Sekani, fellow Patrolmen, were used to the stain the outside world left on one's skin. They welcomed it.

Her warning to Sekani had been soft, yet firm; the ruined stage was treacherous still, even more so with the potential threat of an antlion nest underneath it. Xola had expected an assignment from the Council to scope out further evidence of antlions beneath Cadia. They were patrolmen, first and foremost, and it served to show that their role exploring beyond Cadia should function just as well when inverted.

Her horns dipped low as she inspected a groove in the wood by Sekani's feet. Wordlessly, she gestured ahead, her eyes knowing.

Before Xola's warning, Sekani had been playing a balancing game along the crater's edge. Each step they took swung their body one way, before the next step swung it back in the opposite direction. At Xola's word though, they stopped and stood straight. They reached into their pocket and pulled out their alveolar filter, slipping it underneath their mask. The red rope draped around their shoulders shaped itself into an "O" and then a question mark. Ready? They waited only a moment before jumping lightly into the hole and making their way to the bottom.

It was a pitless dark. The rancor of blood assaulted one's senses, and the cloying sense of foreboding pervaded the shadows.

Evil lurked in this place.

With the strike of a match, Xola chased it away. A sturdy, rectangular lantern dangled from her fingers; she left the door to the light within open as she handed Sekani another similar lantern, beckoning with the flames. She looked away, raising the light aloft.

This space had originally served as an actor's dropping down point – or something of the other; she hadn't really been paying the most attention to the Council's explanation. But the wretched, rough hewn tunnel they found themselves in now was a monstrous mutation of the stage. The antlion had dug out enough of a circumference to accommodate its hulking body. Xola moved her lantern in front of her, glancing at the darkness.

This would possibly take days.

"I wonder…" The satyr was stepping forward now, an urgency to her steps. "I wonder if the path bifurcates at a certain point."

She did not wish that misfortune upon them. To split ways would be foolish on both their parts.

Sekani held the lantern in front of them and began walking into the tunnel. Further down, fungi grew from the damp walls. They pointed them out to Xola. If the mycelium already reached the entrance, it would be possible for them to begin growing and spreading spores inside Cadia. Eventually, the tunnel opened up into a wide cavern. Sekani use their ribbon to carry their lantern in a slow sweep of the area. The light revealed at least a dozen large, white ovals hanging from silk-like thread. One of them was torn open. Across from them, the cavern opened up into another tunnel. The lantern swung back around to Sekani's hand and the red rope returned to its resting place on their shoulders. The ends of it swung inwards and then back out. Bad.

It didn't need saying.

Her reaction was involuntary. Xola jerked back, pulling Sekani with her, though her instinctual move was unwarranted; nothing moved in that dank, hewn cavern save their chests with their breaths. The large ovals before them hung still, innocuous and pale…to the eye.

Antlion eggs. The Council had been right; there was a nest.

Her eyes cottoned onto the egg that had hatched, and then her lantern swung left, towards the dwelling dark that stretched beyond their view into another tunnel.

Though Sekani was faceless, Xola locked eyes with her companion's visage, her eyes alarmingly bright. She jerked her head back, her voice naught but a whisper.

"We must report this now."

Coded by Ardent

 

[FrostedCaramel]

Estra and Bur

---

There was a tale to be told here. A tale of greed in the hearts of men, of the corruption of humanity, or the pitfall of complacency. Cadia was their home, their protector, and provider. She gave them all they needed, the very air in their lungs was filtered through her, the food in their bellies nurtured and grown from her, and yet, unsurprisingly, they had found a way to ruin it. They'd reached too greedily at Cadia's bounty, and now they were to bear witness to the fruits of their sin.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Estra looked up guiltily from her hands as she searched for something around Bur to look at that wasn't him.

"Oh yes, completely," she lied terribly as she continued to avoid his gaze.

Bur sighed, his shoulders rolling back as he leaned himself against the cold tiles of the roof they were perched atop, "And here I thought listening to you afforded the same in return," he stated with a shrug.

"Well it… It does, normally, but well…" she motioned with both hands in erratic circles towards the theater, "This is anything but 'normal', Bur."

"Of course it isn't, that's why I want you to listen."

Bur used a hand to direct Estra's gaze over the crowded rooftops and past the smoking chimneys of Atrium, out past the fields and the nearest hamlets.

"You know what I'm getting at?"

"Of course I do," Estra harumphed as she swatted Bur's hand back down, "Tailward. Your people, the Estarii."

"My people," he affirmed with a quiet whisper, "I should return, this only bodes ill… For us, and for Cadia." he settled his amber eyes on Estra, a small smile snaking across his lips as he spoke again, "You should come too, I don't think it's safe here anymore."

Bur watched as Estra held his gaze for a moment, a small army of options on what to say no doubt flying through her mind.

"I can't. You know that."

His smile turned into an easy frown as he shrugged at her response, "Of course I did, but I had to try," he answered her apologetically, "Besides, the guilt can only cut so deep if I feel like I had no choice but to stay."

Estra leaned forward, her head shaking as she spoke, "You should return," she insisted, "I have no place with the Estarii, but you are expected… You can't stay here, not after," she tilted her head in the direction of the day's earlier excitement, "that."

"My place is here I think," he rolled his head back, peering up at Cadia's sky, taking in the smudges of the stars and utter dark of the night beyond her.

"Your people may have caused this, just as mine have warned for ages, but it doesn't mean I can just run back to them at the first sign of trouble."

"My people," Estra echoed him mockingly, "barely mine," she shifted where she sat to lean up against Bur's side.

"But there are good people out there," she mumbled as her eyes caught the flicker of lanterns from somewhere out by the ruined stage.

"Even more reason for me to stay."

"Even more reason," Estra echoed.