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musesandmagick · 4 years

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The Violet Gala

In collaboration with @the-siren-saga and @penthepoet

Ah, the Violet Gala. The social event of the year, many said. The rarest of occasions, when the doors of House Aversen were opened to any and all-- well, so long as they had the means to pay. Of course, not everyone bought the official PR. It was well known, in certain circles, what the true purpose of this “celebration” was, and there were those who wanted nothing more than to undermine it in the most glorious ways possible.

Among those were the famous information dealer, Moirah Averil, and her assistant, Uvall. Their purpose? Espionage, mostly, and support for Laen Adaire, who had come looking for his sister.

“Moirah, you look absolutely ridiculous,” Uvall said, looking at his boss’s Gala attire, a deep blue silk sari held together by a pin in the shape of a diamond encrusted scarab. “Beautiful, but ridiculous. I think I’m just surprised to see you in a dress.”

“That’s the point, though, isn’t it?” Moirah asked. “They see me… like this, they won’t know it’s me. It’s like, um…” She searched for an example. “How no one knows Clark Kent is Superman until he takes the glasses off. Yeah, that's exactly it.”

Uvall was a bit confused by this remark, not being quite as well-versed in human pop culture. “...Come again?” he asked.

“Oh, never mind. Here, put this on, it’ll let us stay in contact more easily.” She handed him a small circular patch, which he then stuck under his ear. It quickly changed color to match his skin tone, becoming completely invisible. “Wireless invisible communicators. U.M.E.E.C. tech. How’s it working?”

Uvall jumped in surprise as Moirah’s voice came out in his ear. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think we’re good. You should go see how Leo and Laen are holding up.”

Leo Burton and Laen Adaire were in another room of the apartment, talking amongst themselves about how terrible of an idea this was.

“I give it an hour, maximum, before one of them figures out who we are,” Laen was muttering, voice entirely deadpan and not at all hopeful despite the way he was already reaching his mind out as if ‘feeling’ for his sister would be any easier in such a messy-minded place. The only thing it was accomplishing was making his headache worse. “Even less time for my brainwashed sister to raise the alarms when she realises I’m here. Remind me why I agreed to this...”

"Because the hour it'll take for someone to figure out who we are is more than enough time to get in, reestablish a link with your sister, and get out?" Leo asked, ever the strategist. "No one is going to suspect a thing, I promise you. Your cover story is that you're here as a reporter for the society column of some newspaper in Mistria. Go around asking people banal questions about who designed their gowns and shit until you find her, it'll be fine."

“Empty promises followed by banal questions.” Laen sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “My two favourite things.” Glancing up at the sound of movement outside, he breathed a relieved sigh as Uvall came into view. “Are we ready? Can we get this over with yet?”

"Yeah, I think we're ready," Uvall said. "Moirah told me to give you these. Just stick them below your ears so we can all hear each other." He handed each of them a communication patch. It was clear he was worried about this after his last encounter with Marchosias at the re-education facility, though he hid it well. "I also feel like we need to lay down some ground rules. Rule number one, don't talk to Marchosias. Don't approach him. If he approaches you, make up an excuse, pretend you see your date across the room, whatever. Just do anything you can to minimize contact with him as much as possible. Rule number two, do not draw attention to yourselves. Everyone here is trying to catch his eye. Only be as ostentatious as you need to be in order to fit in. Rule number three, this should be obvious, but do not break cover. As far as anyone knows, you're Aliya Friel and Lochlann Kenzou, society columnists."

Leo pouted. "I had a different cover story."

"You did, but it was a bad one."

“Got it.” Laen nodded sharply, obedient despite himself, and quickly applied the communication patch, trying not to actively wince at the thought of yet more voices in his head that weren’t his sister’s. “If that’s all, let’s get this done.”

Leo applied her patch as well, though she was grateful for the ability to stay in contact with the others. "Yeah, let's. I'll be right here if you need anything, Laen." She gestured to her comm patch, in a somewhat inelegant way. "Don't go disappearing on me," she said, trying her hardest not to reveal how terrified she secretly was of something happening to him.

“I won’t if you don’t,” he hummed, just barely a joke.

The three of them walked out to meet Moirah, who was waiting by the entrance. "Uvall, did you give them the patches?"

"Yeah. We're all set," he answered, offering his arm to Moirah, which she took. You know, the most insane thing about this whole plan is how anyone's gonna buy that we're straight.

Tell me about it, Moirah thought back at him, cracking a smile. "Let's go on in, then."

Laen had never seen anything so grand in his life, and for a moment he could see why Laurien was so taken by it all. A huge ballroom, bustling with activity; people from all walks of life dressed lavishly in the nicest silks and lace. Purple drapery and beautiful music… His sister had always been fascinated with the more indulgent things in life and this looked like what he imagined her paradise would be.

The more indulgent things in life made Laen sick to the stomach. And to know how this came about, and the purpose behind it all, only solidified that feeling. Just about suppressing a grimace, he was glad -- and not for the first time -- that he at least would have Leo’s more-.. positive attitude to lean on.

There were other well-known Dekn Masters there, too. Pruflas, for example - the Dekn Master of Quarrels and Shapeshifting - was standing tall with a drink in his hand. Or, rather, his paw - he did have on a glamour that made it look as if he were a humanoid lion. By his side was the most anxious-looking assistant imaginable - Juniper Azure Ancarra, already being spoken of in the Courts as a person of great potential.

“Juniper, my fellow, cheer up!” Pruflas’ voice boomed, making Juniper’s eyes widen. Pruflas handed Juniper a glass, urging them to “drink, please - it will help you loosen up.”

The lion-headed Dekn Master paused, looking around before lowering his voice. “Look, I hate this as much as you. But you have to at least appear as if it’s the finest night of your life. We can slip out after Aversen makes his important announcement, I won’t be indulging his foolishness any longer.”

Leo was either the most convincing actress in the Lathrym, or genuinely enjoying the decadent scene that lay spread out before her. "I wasn't expecting it to be this beautiful," she breathed, dragging Laen by the hand to a buffet where several Dekn delicacies were available for sampling. Laen briefly wondered if it was like the human legends of the Fae, and one bite of these strange and appetizing dishes would cause him to lose his appetite for anything else. "It's like walking into a dream. I can understand why so many people get a taste of this world, and just… disappear into it."

"It seems so superfluous to me," Laen said with a visible cringe, wisely choosing to abstain from any kind of intoxicating beverages for the time being and giving his companion a disbelieving look when she began to pour herself a flute of champagne. "What were you expecting, if not this? Don't drink that, by the way. We need our wits about us tonight."

Leo shrugged her shoulders in response. "I dunno," she confessed. "I guess I was expecting a little less Pride and Prejudice and a little more Eyes Wide Shut."

Laen briefly glared at Leo, then walked off to "interview" the most un-Purple Rose-like person he could find, a vibrant, intimidating woman with striking auburn hair. If he was going to waste his time suffering through the Violet Gala as a society columnist of all things, he was at least going to waste it on someone with something between their ears.

"Ma'am? Excuse me ma'am?" He called, putting on his best 'annoying but curious' voice and trying not to outwardly grimace at himself. "Lochlann Kenzou, society columnist. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

She’d been talking to an up-and-coming actor in the Dekn theatre and opera scene - Ariarathes, a youth of incredible musical prowess who was dressed in a peacock-hued, flamboyant robe complete with actual peacock feathers. “I.. I really admire you, Morgaine, I think your work is stunning and I really look up to that series of photos you did..”

The intimidating Dekn woman swiftly turned to face Laen, her sharp eyes looking at him– into him– in a somewhat invasive manner. "You're looking for someone else," she simply stated, lowering her voice so as to not be overheard by prying ears. "It's written all over you. And I know it's not our gracious host you're looking for." Her voice seemed laced with sarcasm, as if she didn't want to be there any more than he did.

Laen deflated a bit. Less than ten minutes into the evening and he'd already gotten himself discovered. He was terrible at this. "Who is this person?" he whispered.

The voice of Moirah Averil echoed through his earpatch. "That's Morgaine Cyprien," she muttered. "One of the biggest names in the avant-garde art scene right now. Marchosias hates her… I wonder why she's here?"

Morgaine cleared her throat in a more conspicuous manner. "Why, yes, I would be honored to be interviewed for such a prestigious publication," she said more loudly this time, in a manner that made abundantly sure that those around could hear her, as she firmly grabbed Laen's upper arm. "I'm sure that by the grace of the Master of Beguilement, a room has been left open for more… private activities?"

Laen gave Morgaine an indignant look. "An interview," he clarified to those present, "she means an interview."

Of course I mean an interview, Morgaine's voice sighed in his mind. Everyone here has a highly specific image of me in mind, and I've learned quickly that the best way to avoid suspicion is to give them exactly what they're expecting.

That was fair, he supposed, brushing off the deep crawling under his skin that telepathy with anyone but Laurien gave him. Just about managing not to glance around at the eyes he knew must be burning into his back right now, he offered her a gracious nod and what he hoped was a knowing-but-not-suspicious smile, he followed where she led him.

Where she led him turned out to be a sitting room with an easel and canvas set up. "You can stop pretending to be a society columnist now," she said once the door was shut and locked. "I can plainly see that you couldn't care less about what goes on here. If you did care, I wouldn't have let you near me." She led him to an armchair and crouched in front of him, then did that thing again, fixing her eyes upon him in a way that made him feel like his soul was being laid bare before her.

When Morgaine next spoke, she seemed entranced. "You're a strange one. Such depths of caring and protectiveness, but something's standing in the way. And that power… beautiful. An inheritance, passed down through generations and finally finding its way to the two of you." She swept a stray strand of hair out of his face, her hand brushing against his cheek in a way that would've seemed like a maternal caress if he had known her for more than five minutes. "Twin souls, united across the great divide. Would you indulge me by sitting for a portrait?"

A portrait? Laen quirked a brow at that, blinking a few times as her touch startled him. Quite without thinking, he shuffled to sit; staring at her with a mix of curiosity and disdain. “How do you know so much about me? And could you, perhaps, stop?”

"I see into people," Morgaine stated simply. "I see their light and shadow and all that lies between. To stop myself from seeing it would be like giving up the ability to perceive color." She began to work on the portrait, murmuring softly to herself. "Marchosias himself once volunteered as one of my subjects," she divulged as she worked, "and I thank the Hethe every day that he wasn't yet powerful enough to do anything but throw a tantrum when my work showed him as he truly was rather than how he aimed to be seen."

“So what are you doing here?” he wondered, frowning just a little, “I doubt Marchosias would be too happy to see you at his Gala. Or are you one he has a sick fascination with -- I’ve heard he likes to keep lists of people he thinks he’ll have eventually.”

Morgaine seemed more focused on her work than on him, but still, she answered. "I doubt I intrigue or threaten him enough to get a spot on his little list," she said coolly. Laen couldn't decide how to read her tone. "But year after year, the bastard invites me, and year after year, I've declined."

"So what makes this year different?"

"Intuition told me that there was going to be something different about this one." Morgaine closed her eyes for a moment, pausing her work. "Laurien Adaire. That's her name, correct? The other half of your soul?"

“The other half--” Laen’s throat went dry at the thought of that. It was what they’d called each other for years, no? But somehow, now, in the midst of all this trouble, the thought of that actually being a truth and not some child’s fantasy was-.. Painful to think about. “...yes. That’s my twin sister.”

Morgaine opened her eyes, looking to Laen with… sympathy? Pity? Whatever it was, he couldn't decide if he cared for it or not. "There is an invisible thread connecting you. It grows thinner by the day. If you can get to her tonight, if you can reach her for long enough to strengthen the link… you will sustain her, even if only for long enough to bring her home."

“And how do I do that?” Laen couldn’t help the urgency in his voice as he leaned forward; the desperation and impatience that seemed to permeate almost everything he said these days, “How do I even get close to her here, without her raising the alarm?”

"Most are not so perceptive as I. I only saw you because I was looking for you. You have a gift– you can slip into the crowd unnoticed and emerge from it untouched." It was then that Morgaine ceased her work, looking deeply into Laen's eyes once again. "Use this gift to your advantage."

★

Outside in the main ballroom, Leonora Burton was enjoying the gala as if she were any other attendee, partaking of various delicacies, dancing with other guests– "don't worry, my date for the night said I could feel free to enjoy myself!" she would say with a rather convincing girlish giggle– and, of course, keeping a sharp eye on the Purple Rose members and their admirers who stood clustered around the central stairwell.

It took her a little while to be certain, but she finally realized what she'd suspected all along. The one standing on the far left of the platform was the one they were looking for.

Oh, fuck, oh fuck, do NOT make me go up there, I don't want this, I'm supposed to stay away from him, this won't end well–

She took a deep breath and made her way up the stairs to the platform where Marchosias was holding court with his many admirers and worshippers. With every step, she found it harder to think, harder to look away from him. It would be so easy to disappear into all of this. She refused. She had a mission, and she intended to complete it.

"Are you Moss Rose?" she asked, coming to stand next to Laurien. "I'm Aliya Friel, my boyfriend's a society columnist from Mistria. We're both very interested in the life of an Arkn member of the Society of the Purple Rose. Would you be so gracious as to grant us an interview?"

Laurien had to admit, she’d been so enthralled by watching the people dance and all the lovely decorations that she hadn’t even noticed the stranger approach before she’d started talking. With a start and a wide grin, she offered ‘Aliya’ a welcoming nod; frantically trying to remember her etiquette while in such esteemed company. “Yes, that’s me! It’s so lovely to meet you -- I’m happy to answer any and all questions you might have.” Glancing around again, she frowned as if she’d only just truly noticed where she was. Tucking a carefully-curled strand of hair behind her ear, she gave a startled giggle, unnerving in its innocence. “Oh! It’s so noisy here, though: perhaps we should head further into the hall? I know there are some quiet spaces somewhere here, for discussion and such -- our Lord’s graces permitting, of course~”

Damn it, she needs his permission. "Well, then, I see no reason why we shouldn't ask," Leo giggled, still playing the part of the giggly, somewhat ditzy socialite as she made her way to the spot on the platform where the fog was densest. Every step seemed a constant fight not just to maintain control, but to seem as if she wasn't trying at all.

Malistrade and Montezuma, two other members of the Society, appeared to be gathered at a cocktail table nearby, Malistrade keeping an eye on Laurien before he turned towards Montezuma. “Montezuma, I see you looking at Tea. Please, I’d advise you to ensure our Master doesn’t see you.” Montezuma couldn’t help but sigh as he turned away, missing Leo walking up to Marchosias, with Laurien trailing just behind.

"Master of Beguilement," Leo said with a respectful nod as she approached the center of the platform, Laurien following closely. "It's an honor and a pleasure to be here tonight. I'm Aliya Friel, I'm here with Lochlann Kenzou. May I please have permission to take Moss Rose for an interview?"

Marchosias gave a charming smile, reaching out to stroke Laurien's cheek as casually as one would pet a cat. "Of course you may," he answered. "Just take care to bring her back soon. My little Moss Rose gets somewhat upset when she's away from me for too long." Right at Marchosias’ arm was Tea, who seemed to be wearing what looked like an incredibly intricate torque-collar and leash. “Yeah,” Tea chimed in, “please bring her back to us safe and sound! She’s like a sister to me.”

Leo tried not to think about how wrong the entire scene felt to her as she got away from Tea and Marchosias.

Leo. Leo, what are you doing? Uvall's voice crackled through the earpatch. I saw you talking to him.

"Hey, I didn't expect to have to ask permission to take her off of the stairwell, okay? And I'm fine."

Laurien, meanwhile, was deeply engrossed in how romantic this all was. So many people gathered, dancing and talking and drinking and laughing and they were all so beautiful. A pretty woman wanted to take her from her Lord’s side just to speak with her, about her, and her Lord had allowed it! She felt beautiful. She felt admired. She felt like the jewel in a crown, so shining and decorative in such valuable surroundings, and as she led her new friend through the crowd she beamed at all who passed; being sure to show the joy and grace her Lord had taught her -- practiced and poised, but a little clumsy, just to show she was still His child and could never outshine Him.

"Do you like my dress? My Lord Himself picked it out for me!" She gave a little spin, giggling gleefully as she led Leo into a quiet side room and closed the door. Her wings, constantly manifested as a show of how very special she was to be an Arkn here among her Lord's court, shimmered and shook with her glee; shining pink to match her pastel purple dress. "Isn't all this so wonderful!"

"You look beautiful indeed," Leo agreed with an enthusiastic laugh. Gods, she was not prepared for this, not prepared to sit across from a woman who was once so full of life and who now looked like a porcelain doll. Disguising her motion by tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she reached to turn on recording– and also, to allow the others connected through the earpatch network to hear what Laurien was saying. "So, to start… A lot of the inner workings of the Society of the Purple Rose are shrouded in mystery. Most don't really know its true purpose, but when you see a crowd of beautiful people who seem to have been hand-picked by the Dekn Master of Beguilement and Debauchery, it does get the mind going. Is there any insight you can provide into this mysterious, intriguing world that so few are ever privileged enough to see?"

"Oh! Well, the Society is many, many things to different people," Lauri hummed, her posture growing practiced and poised even with the childish grin that accompanied her words, "To me it's a refuge from the people who would hurt me and make me something I'm not -- my Lord has given me an environment where I can truly be myself without judgement, and I fit in here in my own way without having to change who I am for someone else."

"Bastard." Laen's voice muttered through the network, listening intently to his sister as she spoke (though indirectly) to him for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"But as a whole we are a refuge, home, and a movement really! There are so many terrible people across all of the realms and my Lord wants to change that -- to unite everyone, Dekn and Arkn-" She gave a proud shimmy of her wings at that, "-and maybe even humans someday soon! All He asks is our love and devotion, and in return he will shape and love us all as we are, not as the other powers think we should be."

"About humans," Leo said. "There are… well, there are reports that SEEKER has gotten involved in Purple Rose activities in the past? I'm sure these are just rumors, but if your Lord has been meddling in the Seeds… You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but is it true? That SEEKER has investigated you."

The mention of SEEKER had Laurien paling, her gaze lowering to the floor for a moment as her mind travelled back over the events before the Gala. "SEEKER have no business with my Lord," she said, her voice almost a whisper, and left it at that.

Even Laen remained silent, the guilt and fury he felt almost tangible even through the network.

Leo tried to hide the fact that her heart was breaking. "Well," she said briskly, changing the subject. "On a different note. Do you think you can tell me a bit about what your life is like in the Society, day to day? I know that a lot is probably meant to stay private, but my readers want to know." She gave another girlish laugh, finding it almost disconcerting how easily she slipped into the role of happy-go-lucky society columnist.

Taking in a deep breath, the speed at which Laurien's darker thoughts were shoved aside was practically visible in her eyes as she plastered on another smile, her already heavily-blushed cheeks darkening with the question. "Well I couldn't possibly tell you everything, but… well, most of my days I wake up, say my thanks to my Lord for the blessings I'm given, then go about my devotions. He lets us do what we like, so it's different every day! Sometimes I work on my poise and appearance, sometimes I help other Society members with their troubles, sometimes when I'm particularly lucky or upset I just enjoy His company and His Divine energy. It's-- not so easy to explain, really! My days are so different and wonderful, it's like whole weeks go by in seconds~"

"So… the Society of the Purple Rose has quite a high opinion of Baelbaurith Aversen," Leo said, taking great pains to refer to him only in mortal terms, rather than making any indication that she could possibly be persuaded to see him as some kind of deity. "Calling him 'my Lord' and such. Does it bother you that people outside of the Society might consider this all to be… you know…" A cult? she wanted to ask. "A bit over the top. After all, he is known for his ego, among other things."

"My Lord Elucidis is prideful it's true, but not to the point of losing humility and charity," Lauri insisted, a little defensive despite her carefully welcoming tone. "I can understand from the outside why our Society would seem strange -- I thought it suspicious myself, when I was misguided and naïve." The bitterness in her voice was audible, but the smile on her lips remained gentle and excited, "All I can say to those who are suspicious of us is to come and see for yourself. It can be hard to understand real, positive change until you experience it firsthand."

"This goes without saying, but don't listen to her," Moirah said coldly through the earpatch.

"I'm aware," Leo muttered. "Yes, that's very good advice, I'll be sure to put that in my write-up on the Society! Anyway, I think it's about time for my partner to come in– he's doing the profile on you specifically, I'm just researching the Society as a whole." It was amazing how well the lies flowed from her lips. "Lochlann, we're ready for you," she said through the earpiece.

Laen didn't hesitate. With scarcely a gracious goodbye to his current company, he hurried (as inconspicuously as possible) to join Leo and Lauri in their room, hesitating for a moment outside the door. Their family relic, tucked safely in his inside pocket, was buzzing with energy the closer he got to her, and not for the first time he was terrified to see her again. He knew how much she'd have changed, and to see her that way…

Clenching his jaw, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

His heart all but shattered with how long it took her to recognise him. He watched her gaze shine from curious welcome, to dull shock, to silent outrage, and for a moment he panicked -- unsure now he was here what he should do.

"Laen. You--" Laurien glanced between Laen and Leo, putting two and two together with the blistering speed he was used to seeing. "Moirah put you up to this, didn't she? Your friend is SEEKER too isn't she! Oh, I should have known, wait until my Lord hears about-"

Moving on sheer instinct, Laen shot forward, tugging their relic from his pocket and holding it towards her. In an instant, Laurien fell sharply silent, swallowing heavily as she gazed upon the strange little thing, littered with runes and tied as it was to the rope they used to take it in turns to throw around themselves. They made it quite the fashion accessory as children, didn't they…

Laen took her hand, pressing the artefact between their palms.

'You still feel me, don't you," he murmured, breathing out the breath he held as she nodded. "Do you still hear me?"

"I do."

"This is who we are, sister." Laen glanced at Leo as they communicated, offering her a nod to show it was working, before returning his attention to Lauri, "Whatever he made you is a lie. Through everything, this is us. We are together for all time. You know that as well as I."

"I'm happy here."

"You're living somebody else's lie."

"I chose this."

"You can choose to walk away."

"I don't need you."

"I know. But I need you."

The twins stared at each other for what felt like days, identical eyes burning into each other with the kind of silent understanding that only came with time. Laurien's eyes watered and overflowed with the force of her brother's emotions, and his with her's. For a time, all that existed was them.

But just as it always had, it came to an end. The muffled music outside changed to a gentle, mesmerising tune, and Laurien glanced towards the door with a shaken gasp.

"You two should leave," she murmured, sullen and dejected as she forced her hands from his, avoiding eye contact with either of them. "If He finds out who you all are and that you're here…"

She blinked and shivered, sucking in a breath as she put on the practiced poise once more. "Just go. All of you. If I find out Moirah is here I won't hesitate to tell my Lord."

For the first time, that felt more like a warning than a threat.

This didn't go unnoticed by Leo, who looked furtively towards Laen. "We should, um… we should go. Now."

Laen watched his sister leave the room with a clenched jaw and a dark snarl, lifting a hand automatically to his patch to speak with the others. "We're pulling out. I got what I came for. I'd rather not see what comes next."

But Marchosias’ voice stopped them before they could, as well as the crowd of people going up towards the front of the room to hear his announcement. “Ladies and gentlefolk, I have a wonderful announcement to make.”

He was up at the front, dressed in the finest attire of the evening - a traditional, incredibly-formal black Dekn suit with gold accents. His smile was like a lion baring its fangs: both incredibly beautiful and incredibly terrifying to see. His hands were clasped, his eyes trained out at the crowd.

“Here in the Society of the Purple Rose, we have.. rituals, one might say, that help us determine the finest amongst Lathrymites to crown as Esteemed - those from whom we can learn and grow. The highest of the high, after all, can climb ever higher in the heart of our little family.” He walked up to where a huge curtain was obscuring something.

"Can I set his suit on fire?" Leo hissed. "Please?"

Laen grunted in response, but the message was clear. Don't do anything that could draw attention.

“You see, during one of these rituals, my Consort came upon a most talented youth - a boy who knew more about fine Lathrymite literature than any other on Ersis, a boy of such talent that he endured eternities worth of torture and came back having carved out his captor’s hand and eye! What resilience! What a fire.” His eyes seemed to have a rather covetous, amused glint to them as he continued.

“We here at the Society of the Purple Rose can all learn from his tenacity and keen cunning. Therefore, I am beyond delighted to present to you our symbol of the canonization, and our announcement, of our newest Saint..”

He pulled down the purple curtain, his grin growing even wider as it dropped.

What was underneath was a gleaming stained-glass window of a cloaked figure, wrapped in thorns and holding what appeared to be a falling star.

“The Scholar!”

"Oh, he's going to love this," Moirah muttered to her disbelieving assistant.

Leo smiled innocently at her companion. Just as Marchosias was reveling in his triumph, his suit just so happened to catch fire.

A perfect ending to a perfect evening.

#arknverse #arkn x #arkn legacy #arkn #pink and purple #society of the purple rose #v:arkn #drabble

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societyofthepurplerose · 4 years

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Directive from on high. We’re to revoke Moirah Averil’s status as one of the Esteemed, effective immediately.

Beginning now, she is to be considered the lowest form of heretic, an enemy of our God, our faith, and all that is sacred to Him.

-Mod Montezuma

#mod montezuma

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shannathesiren · 4 years

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This is most likely going to be my last post on this blog, sweet Shanna, so when you read it, pay close attention.

Yes, I’m fully aware of your aunt’s little plan, my Consort told me everything. But don’t worry, my dear, a time will come very soon when you will be by my side forever, just as you should be. One way or another, I will make sure of that.

There was another like you. No, not exactly. She couldn’t do what you can do, what we can do. But she was almost, almost close enough. Her name was Idele, and, well, she was once in my employ, at one of the many fine establishments I run in the Entertainment District. She had the remarkable ability to reflect others’ deepest wants and desires back to them. Served her quite well, I imagine, in her line of work.

She was not only my first High Companion, but she would have been my first Acolyte and Herald, too-- the first one to whom I attempted to give the gift I have tried so hard to give you, and she squandered it.

I had to re-educate her, of course. She gave me no choice. But her purification was... Well, let’s just say she didn’t comply with her treatment. She dropped off the map after she was welcomed back to the Cathedral, and we never saw her again. Every few stellar cycles, she will declare her intent to challenge me at the Master’s Awakening, but she never shows, and those who do keep tabs on her tell me that she’s a shell of what she was when I knew her.

The moral of this story, amourai, is that those who evade me do not do so with their minds and hearts intact. Your aunt has drawn you into a losing battle, Shanna. A losing battle that serves no purpose but to further her agenda.

There’s something I discovered on our first night together, that when someone like you is exposed to someone like me, I don’t even have to try. Your own abilities do all the work for me. All I had to do was jumpstart the process-- you practically conditioned yourself. I wish I could’ve been there to see it as it progressed.

The pain will only increase, being away from My Heart. You’ll come to understand, the more you fight me, the more difficult it will get. It’ll exhaust you. Sooner or later, you’ll end up like Idele.

But if I know you, which I suspect I do... sooner or later, you’ll go looking for a way to stop the pain. And I can do that again, just like I did that night. I can hold you and sing to you and make the world shrink to just the two of us again. I can wipe away all the doubt from your mind, all the fear. I can replace it with love for me.

I can make it so that no one ever hurts you again. You won’t be tied to Moirah Averil’s agenda any longer. All you need to do is let go.

-M.

#the God-Emperor speaks to his faithful

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usedtothesedizzyspells · 5 years

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Ellpagg help me. I just had the most terrifying dream...

[GORE WARNING AHEAD]

I was. I was in a gray concrete room. Almost looked like one of Andras's facilities, but instead of red alarm lights flashing, the lights were all purple neon and ultraviolet. And I was strapped to a table. Paralyzed, you could even say. I couldn't move. Gods above, it was terrifying. But that's. Not even the worst part.

I dreamed that Shanna was standing over me.

With an ornate curved dagger.

She slices my chest open and rips out my heart, and in her hands I see it become constricted by the branches of a gnarled purple rose bush, growing and taking it over. And I open my mouth to call for help, and I hear that... disgustingly hypnotic voice I've heard so many times before, and he tells me "Don't you get it, Moirah Averil? The only one who can save you now... is me."

#gore -#medical gore -

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cracked-clay-and-white-bird · 4 years

Note

Yes, I know what a Risen is, and I think I've done a lot more to help them than whoever your employer is. As for who I am? I'm shocked she hasn't told you. I'm Moirah Averil, and I do not take kindly to innocent people being threatened. –@usedtothesedizzyspells

yeah... i can’t exactly say what she does with them, im not allowed to. anyways ok Moriah, i don’t have a lot of time here, she gonna come pick up Tom, soon. you really don’t understand who this woman is or what she’s doing, trust me you don’t really want to get involved, so please stay out of all this, i don’t want more people getting hurt with this.

-ethan

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arknthetics · 3 years

Text

What Moirah Averil would wear.

An employee of U.M.E.E.C. and a devoted El'lepagi follower, Moirah secretly works as an "information broker" on the side, as well as undermining Marchosias's authority and rescuing his "devotees".

Moirah is the aunt of Shanna Averil. She is in an open marriage with another female Dekn, Victoire, whom she loves dearly. (Arkn: Legacy)

#moirah averil #dekn #universe x #arkn: legacy #fashion #ensemble #gothic fashion #pride month #lgbtq

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the-siren-saga · 3 years

Text

What Has Gone Before

AFTER

"Well," Timothée said flatly, "I came alone. Just like you asked. Though, knowing you, I probably shouldn't have."

Moirah laughed quietly to herself, a bitter and humorless laugh. The boy had been a paranoid wreck of a person since Shanna was taken– justifiably so, but the fact that it was justified didn't mean it was any less painful to watch. "Relax, kid," she reassured him, stowing her laser pistol back in its holster. "I just wanted to talk about Shanna."

Timothée didn't know what he expected to hear, but upon hearing it, he realized that he didn't know how it could have been anything else. "Why?" he asked. "I don't think you understand how traumatizing this whole situation has been. If you're gonna involve me in all this shit again, you'd better have a damn good reason."

"I'll give you a reason," Moirah said with thinly veiled impatience. "Because I don't think you have all the facts, and in a situation like the one we're about to have to deal with, what you don't know can hurt you."

"Fine." Leaning against the wall and taking a deep breath, Timothée shook his head in resignation. "Tell me. I'm all ears."

Moirah, eyes downcast in what seemed like regret, laid one hand against Timothée's head. "I don't think your ears will be needed," she said before sending him headlong into a vision of the not-so-distant past.

BEFORE

It is the middle of the night, and Moirah is running out of patience with her contact.

"So you're sure that–"

The cold, clipped British tones in which the reply is delivered make her shiver a bit despite the warmth of the fireplace. "Yes, I am sure that the implantation process has gone as planned. The little savage even tried to use it on me when she woke up from the procedure."

Moirah shakes her head. She doubts that Shanna "tried" to do anything – unintentional power usage is common in children, after all – but there is precisely no doubt in her mind that Andras saw it as a personal attack, knowing his unfortunate history. She raises one eyebrow slowly and chuckles. "Now, I don't think it was as intentional as all that."

"Well, let's hope that she learned from my punishment. An hour or so of believing that the room was on fire should have –"

"Andras. Senêrouxe. As'phyxiar. That is a child that you just admitted to psychologically torturing."

She can almost feel how pleased he still is with himself. "Yes, Moirah," Andras says, his voice taking on a didactic quality. "A child who you had me implant with an ability that she cannot control, so that she will one day become a target for the most dangerous and manipulative man on the Dekn Court. You are no better than me, and only slightly better than him." For a second, she wonders if he's going to end the call, but then he comes back. "I gave her a subconscious command while she was under my power. Her Beguilement won't reveal itself until she is put in a position to be useful to your little conspiracy. You should be grateful."

Click. End scene.

Moirah Averil has never learned to be grateful.

AFTER

"SHE WAS FAMILY TO YOU, MOIRAH. SHE WAS FAMILY TO YOU AND YOU HAD HER EXPERIMENTED ON, YOU USED HER AS BAIT, AND FOR WHAT?" Timothée was more passionately angry than Moirah had ever seen him. "WHAT COULD HAVE POSSIBLY BEEN SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU COULD BE WILLING TO SACRIFICE–"

Moirah shushed him in a way that was probably not intended to be rude, but that he certainly took as such. "Hey. Hey. You don't think I've regretted it every day since? There's a reason I tried so hard to take care of her once I got her back from him the first time. Things were never supposed to go the way they went, and that's on me, not anyone else."

"The fact that you're sad about it doesn't change anything."

Stunned into temporary silence, Moirah looked down at her feet. She knew he was right, of course, as annoyingly tenacious as he could be about it, but Hethe damn it, she just had too much pride to say that. "Shanna was supposed to be strong enough to resist him, like me. I had Andras test for that, and he said she had the potential to develop psychic shields like mine, but… if she had them at all, Marchosias cut through them like a hot knife through butter."

Timothée sighed wearily. "She was lonely," he corrected. "I shouldn't have to spell it out for you. Stop hiding behind your technical terms and projections and fucking acknowledge that she was stranded on Ersis with no support system and nobody who understood a thing about what it was like to be her. You thought she wouldn't jump at the chance to feel like someone loved her?"

"I loved her," Moirah whispered. But the words dissolved in her mouth like candy floss.

#the siren's saga #volume 3: lost again #arkn legacy

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arknthetics · 3 years

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What Asara, a non-binary member of Moirah Averil's resistance movement, would wear. (Arkn: Legacy)

#asara #dekn #resistance #universe x #arkn: legacy #fashion #ensemble #pride month

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the-siren-saga · 4 years

Text

Scenes from the City

Shanna

It starts with thunder so loud it seems to beckon to the land, lightning that strikes into it like the sharp sting of a blade, and the land responds in kind with feverish tremors. The sky is vivid, aurora of green and blue and deep purple flashing across it like brush strokes on canvas. It seems to coalesce in a roughly circular area around the city, as if creating a barrier, or perhaps a focal point.

Needless to say, Shanna Averil is not impressed.

"Figures this happens on a day I have to go into work," she sighs, flopping onto the couch in her pajamas.

Victoire looks over from her computer. "They've closed all the roads anyway. Looks like all three of us have been granted a little forced vacation."

"Speak for yourselves," Moirah laughs. "My work is never done. A client wants info on this new TV preacher who's blown up overnight, and by the Hethe, this one's a slippery son of a bitch."

"The client or the preacher?" Victoire asks innocently.

Moirah slumps in her chair, an utterly lifeless expression on her face. "The preacher. And he's so calculatedly inoffensive, can't find a single crack in that disgustingly squeaky clean image he puts on for the cameras. I just want to break every bone in his body," she hisses.

"Is this what you're doing instead of going after the real threat here?" Shanna snaps. "I'm going back to bed. Wake me up when you've got your priorities–"

Another shudder as the ground moves under their feet. Shanna scrambles for something to hold onto, and, finding nothing, hits the floor with an unceremonious thud.

Moirah offers her a hand, which she refuses, either out of anger or pride. "We'll have this conversation when the sky's not falling," she murmurs. Crawling to her feet, she looks out the window, to the electric-flashing sky and the wall of clouds that is beginning to build around the perimeter of Taveril'domaine, and as the immense golden door begins to materialize on the outskirts of the city, she silently curses the Hethe for never allowing her life to be normal.

Timothée

He can't stop looking at the sky. It's his nature to distrust anything that transfixes him so, but it's impossible for him to look away. But oh, how he wants to. How he wants to run, to never look back. How, if he wasn't obligated to stay, he'd have done it already.

"What's happening in the palace?" he asks his contact through their earpatch network.

Carine, an experienced spy in the Court, looks around briefly before answering. "They're all transfixed. Obviously. I don't blame them."

"Where's Marchosias?" he asks. "Does he have anything to do with this?"

"Ha, yeah," Carine laughs, trying not to draw attention to herself. "Marchosias Aversen controls the weather. Is that what they teach in that Society of his?"

Respectfully, Timothée chooses not to dignify that with a response.

"No, he has nothing to do with it. He seems pretty interested, though. I'm sure he's gonna make some grand address on the subject later– I'll patch you in to watch if you want."

Timothée makes an effort not to cringe. "I'd prefer not to hear whatever he has to say. Just send it to Asra, they're more able to handle that shit than I am."

"Asra's a little busy right now," Asra's voice echoes through the earpatch. A deafening chant can be heard, almost drowning out their voice.

"Where the hell are you?" Timothée questions them. "And for the love of Ced'ric, please turn on push to talk. That chanting is incredibly distracting."

"Done, there, got it," Asra pants in response. "And to answer your question, I'm at the door. I wanted to prove it a fake, just in case it turns out to be one of Marchosias's schemes. But, uh–"

Timothée can feel himself growing impatient. "But what?" he sighs. "Please tell me it's a, like, a cheap stage prop or something. Just once, let SOMETHING be simple."

"...To tell you the truth, I'm not sure what it is," Asra says quietly, a definite note of awe in his voice. "But I can tell you one thing. It's definitely not a stage prop."

Marchosias

Once the sky is clear, he gathers his faithful in the High Cathedral– and not just his faithful, either. Somehow, whether due to his celebrity status both within the Court and outside it or simply due to his otherworldly talent for swaying the minds of others, he's managed to get a camera crew to film this address and broadcast it on every channel in the city. A message to all with ears to hear it, Malistrade had said when he heard about the plan. Absolutely inspired, Master– my mind thrills at the thought of what a boon this could be. Marchosias's mind is, admittedly, caught up in the same thrill.

Forgoing his usual royal purple suit for a robe of flowing black silk trimmed in gold, he sits upon a gilded throne surrounded by flickering candles. His High Companion sits at his feet, looking up at him with an expression of worship, and his dear, sweet consort leads the assembled faithful in songs and chants of adoration, working the energy in the room into a frenzy. One heart, one soul, one body, one mind. One Power to lead us, one Purpose defined. It's more than music to his ears. Their worship is as much a drug to him as his presence is to them, and right now it's coming over him like a hit of pure jacrit, sharpening his senses and making every nerve in his body awaken. It's this moment that he lives for, the knowledge that his power is so absolute and unquestioned that he could tell them to fight for him, to die for him, to kill for him and they would accept this new directive without question.

He turns his power up as he rises, just enough to leave them craving more. To the ones who have come before him, kneeling at his feet and clutching at his robes, weeping and gnashing their teeth for more of him, more of his intoxicating aura, he gives a fond smile. To those in the back, scarcely an acknowledgement is given.

The cameras turn on.

"It's rare that I address the people like this," he purrs, stepping down from the altar to create at least the appearance of humility. "The sight of this innermost sanctum is usually reserved for my truest and most dedicated servants, those who are held eternally within the pulses of my Heart. But today… oh, today is a special occasion."

The earlier argument forgotten as arguments between those who truly love one another often are, Shanna, Moirah, and Victoire are in the living room, flipping channels as background noise for a more pleasant conversation. Shanna suddenly freezes, her whole body going rigid. Staring out from the screen is the face of none other than the man she used to serve.

"No," she whispers. "Not him. Can't be him. Can't be– I don't want to go back to him, please don't make me, don't lead me into the Heart, please…"

"Victoire, scrap the current project," Moirah says in a low, cold tone. "See to Shanna, make sure she's okay for the night. Looks like I've got unfinished business to take care of."

"You may have seen the door that appeared just outside of our fair city earlier today," Marchosias says in a tone that can almost be described as reassuring. "I want to make an announcement, both as a Master of the Dekn Court and as the head of this Society, that no one has anything to fear from today's events, or from what lies on the other side of that door. In fact, quite the opposite– that door is but a symbol, my beloved people, a symbol of a new age which is beginning to dawn upon the Lathrym as a whole!"

He pauses a moment, to allow the raucous cheers from the gathered worshippers to pass. What a lovely sound, the sound of those unable to restrain their adoration of him. He smiles as he takes it in, rewarding their enthusiasm with yet another pulse of that delicious, addictive aura. The deep purple neon lights that line the ceiling pulse in time.

He takes a breath before continuing. "We are entering an age of benevolence, of wisdom," he continues in the same soothing, disarming tones. "An age where all suffering shall be washed away, leaving only the joy and the thrill of worship. An age where the true God of this world shall be revealed in full. This door is the symbol of my new era, and within it is all power given to me for the building of this world. And so I offer a hand to all of you who wish to assist me in this creation."

Kellan and Asra watch the address with a sinking feeling of dread. All they've done, all they've tried to sabotage him, and he just comes back stronger.

"We can turn this off if you want, love," Kellan says, brushing a strand of hair out of Asra's eyes. "It's okay to take a break. I know how much this is hurting you."

Asra turns away, their eyes still glued to the screen, not out of Beguilement, but out of a compulsion to understand just how bad things are about to get. "Leave it on," they answer. "I don't want to be caught unprepared."

"All you have to do," Marchosias says with a chilling gleam in his eyes, "is come to me, and give yourselves over into my hands. You have my word that I will keep you safe– in fact, I may be the only one who can do so."

#arkn legacy #the siren's saga #arkn x #happy birthday arkn legacy!

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the-siren-saga · 4 years

Text

What Happened That Night

SHANNA

LoneCameraman: Anyone else get taken recently? Kellamity: not that I've seen, no. Asra hasn't mentioned anything either. Kellamity: I'm going to the Cathedral tonight to rescue Iskandar. They're all gonna be at the Golden Door, it'll give me a great opportunity to get in and out before I'm seen. LoneCameraman: And you're telling me this now? Who even GAVE you that intel Kellamity: Who do you think? Moirah told me. LoneCameraman: Due to personal reasons I'd rather not hear anything about Moirah. Kellamity: ...What happened?

As if on cue, there was a sharp, yet hesitant, knock on the door. Timothée jumped to his feet.

LoneCameraman: Nothing. Don't focus on that. Remember how I said I could get us Shanna?

At the door was Shanna Averil, cold and shaking. There was a look of panic in her eyes, like a wounded prey animal. He opened the door, gesturing for her to come in and sit down.

"What's mine is yours," he said, offering a hand. "I know it's not much, but it's what we've got."

She took his hand, walking with him to the couch. "Has my aunt talked to you?"

"She sent me this long message when she heard you were coming over… Seems like she's pretty pissed off at herself for pushing you away the way she did." Timothée shrugged, sitting down beside Shanna.

"Yeah, well, I don't wanna hear her apology. Not yet," Shanna grunted. "And after what I did, I doubt she'll want to hear mine."

LoneCameraman: Just happened… a little sooner than I expected.

A pang of guilt came over him. I am a horrible, horrible person, he thought to himself. He repeated to himself that he didn't know what would happen when he showed Shanna that post-- he was trying to be a good person, and after living in a world of lies the way they had, who wouldn’t want to know the truth?

"You have a right not to," he soothed, holding out a hand for her to take. Awkwardly and hesitantly, she placed her hand in his. “It was an accident, I don’t hold it against you.”

She leaned against him. Timothée was a safe person. He wouldn’t hurt her or sell her out, he knew exactly what she’d gone through and how it affected her. “I used my… My thing I can do. I promised I never would again. But it just happened,” she muttered. “How do you move on from that? How do you deal with the fact that your power makes you a danger to others?”

The silence that followed seemed to hang in the air like a thick fog.

"Maybe I shouldn't have asked," she sighed.

LoneCameraman: I think we might need a couple of days. Kellamity: Take your time.

He wrapped one arm around her in a loose hug. "It's fine," he said. "My advice is to put it out of your mind for now. You're… you're not just your power, okay? And you're not the person who hurt you."

Hesitantly, Shanna settled down, her head on his shoulder. His words rattled around in her mind for a while– You're not the person who hurt you. Coming from someone who'd been hurt in similar ways, that meant a lot more than it otherwise would. She believed it, at least for a moment, in a way she wouldn't believe it otherwise.

LoneCameraman: Thanks for understanding. She's been through a lot today.

"Who are you texting?" Shanna asked.

Timothée, the lovable idiot, merely responded thusly: "You'll meet them soon."

KELLAN

The city was quiet. Only the soft hum of electricity and the distant sounds of feral animals prowling the streets disturbed the silence as a lone hoverbike sped through the deserted cityscape. On this hoverbike was a man with a mission. His name was Kellan Dehara, and he was a member of a certain clandestine organization– a resistance cell, covertly fighting against the actions of the Society of the Purple Rose.

"Are you sure about this, Kellan?"

The man on the hoverbike laughed. "I've never been sure of anything in my life," he answered with more confidence than such a statement warranted.

Asra paused. "Come again?" Their voice had a nervous edge to it. "Because we need you to be sure. We've never done a retrieval mission this risky before."

"More sure," Kellan corrected. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Let's do this."

"Right, right, let's get on with it, then." A few shuffling noises could be heard over the earpatch as Asra looked around for the mission plans. "Okay. You should be nearing the entrance point soon… again, are you absolutely certain you want to do this?"

Kellan sighed. "I just said so."

"Roger that."

"Four times, Asra."

"Roger that," Asra said, clearing their throat. "Let's just get this over with."

For a long time, there was silence. Silence enough for Kellan to bring the hoverbike to a stop behind a certain purple and silver building in the Entertainment District.

With Marchosias and his attendants on some sort of mock pilgrimage to the great golden door, to touch it and stand beside it and pat themselves on the back for supposedly bringing such a divine sign into the world, Kellan was free to enter the Cathedral without fear of being found and indoctrinated. Every single corridor was so intimately familiar to him from his own time spent walking these halls, every room an echo from within his own mind. It was maze-like. Intentionally so.

And only by accepting His love can we find our way to the center. To the Heart, Kellan recited to himself, not even realizing he was doing it. No. No, no, stop. I don't want to find my way to you. I want to find my way to Iskandar, I need to make sure he's okay, I need to get him out of here. Nothing else matters right now, not even you, 'Master.' In his own internal monologue, he said the last word mockingly, disdainfully. The version of himself that existed in his mind was every bit as cruel to Marchosias as Marchosias used to be to him.

He continued his exploration. The hallway he was in looked to be a dorm hallway, with gray, undecorated walls. Much of the Cathedral was richly decorated, but the dorms, save for the temporary rooms designed to impress new members and the luxury suites inhabited by Marchosias's favorites, were sparse and cold. Ostensibly, this was to encourage "contemplation," but it had an effect more similar to sensory deprivation if a person spent too long in one of the tiny gray rooms. A few of them had windows. He peeked inside one– yep, it was definitely a dorm, and it was every bit as bleak as his own when he was a member. Gray walls. Gray carpet. Gray furniture. The only color in the room was a skinny purple vase, holding one long-stemmed, deep purple rose. The bed was inhabited by a woman who had to have been at least eighteen, as only adults lived in the main building, but looked sixteen. She tossed and turned fitfully in her sleep.

Demetra, he realized. Oh, Hethe, that's Demetra. She had been a member of his cell for a few months before returning to the Society without so much as a goodbye. Many suspected she'd been kidnapped, Kellan included. He pulled on the door, trying to see if it would open. It didn't. Fuck, he swore silently.

The voice that interrupted him was soft and anxious and so familiar. Turning around, Kellan saw a man in a white silk robe, with dark skin, short braided hair, and eyes that had once been a deep, rich shade of brown. "She's being punished," he said as if talking about a teenager who’d been forbidden from going out on dates rather than a grown woman locked in a colorless room. "You'll be punished too if they find out you came back. But it's okay. We'll get to be together afterwards."

Paying no mind to the creepy things that the other man was saying, Kellan ran to embrace him. "Oh, Iskandar, mirthali Hethe. I was so worried I'd never see you again."

"All you had to do was come back to His embrace, Kellan Dehara. You know this." Iskandar stood motionless, not returning the hug, just continuing to speak in the same soft yet unnerving tones. "We could have been together this whole time, had you only accepted your place under His guiding hand. But it's no matter. You're here now. Here with me, and with our Most Divine Ruler."

Kellan shook him gently, trying to snap him out of it. "Hey, stop, this isn't you. Remember in college when the two of us went on that bar crawl and you got so plastered that you ended up belly-dancing on a table and singing karaoke to The Sisters Wander? Because I do. And let me tell you, that is not belly-dancing music." He wondered briefly if it was like those Ersis fairy tales, and a kiss would be all it took to awaken Iskandar, however, he wasn't keen on the idea of kissing someone who didn't explicitly make it clear that they wanted it. Instead, he just sighed. "Do you even remember anything before this place? Anything about us?"

"He took all of that from me so I could serve Him without distraction," Iskandar said, again, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world. "I missed you so much when you left us. He eased my pain– isn't our God-Emperor wonderful?"

He forgot about me? Kellan thought. He wanted to forget about me?

This was too much for him to bear. "I'm sorry," he whispered to his former lover. With a quick, precise nerve pinch, he rendered Iskandar unconscious in a pile on the floor. "I'll come back for you. Just… not tonight."

And out he ran, away from the maze-like Cathedral, away from the former lover with the dead-eyed stare, onto his hoverbike and towards the last person in the world who he was certain still loved him.

#the siren's saga #arkn legacy #arkn x #fucking TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH to finish this one

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the-siren-saga · 4 years

Text

The Last Moment of Peace: a birthday fic for @penthepoet

“We fucking destroyed those guys,” For’ende cheered as he and his best friend walked away from a victorious Blood Flags battle. “How are you holding up?”

Faust tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and surveyed the area. "Fairly well, all things considered," he answered, drumming his fingers against his side, a bit distracted. After all, his last Blood Flags battle had ended with a sloppy attempt on his life. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"Thinking about the break-in again? Dude, trust me, it'll be fine. I'll make sure."

"...Not really, actually." Faust tried to convince himself that his emotions about the upcoming infiltration could be summed up as a sort of grim determination. He was going to do what had to be done, as impossible as it seemed to be, and then he would receive his reward and be done with it. And then Andras would never bother him again. But still, there was this apprehension lurking at the back of his mind, as if a storm were already brewing. "More, just… everything? My words fail me. Bas an drin idibre vre luach vur vre fukai."

I am here between the precipice and the depths.

As determined as he was to go through with it, it felt like the moment right before the sudden stop.

"Hey, hey, don't be like that," For'ende said, desperately trying to cheer up his friend. Faust was never this distracted after a win. Ever. "This will work. It will. And, also, you've got your other friend helping out, she was practically born for this."

"I guess," Faust conceded. "Speaking of, she and I planned to meet tonight after the battle to talk some stuff over. You coming?"

For'ende nodded. "Yeah, I'll tag along. If you guys are talking strategy, I want in. Also, I have nothing else to do tonight."

"We're meeting up at that frozen yogurt place a few blocks away, I'll cover you."

★

Shanna sat in a corner booth at Munchies, the frozen yogurt shop she chose for their first meeting. It was well-lit and had a lot of foot traffic, which appealed to her paranoia in case Faust and For'ende weren't who they claimed to be, but it was also very unlikely that they'd be overheard, which appealed to her other paranoia that their plans would somehow be intercepted, whether by SEEKER, U.M.E.E.C., or one of Marchosias's own spies.

Shanna Averil could never be too careful.

When two boys came into the shop– one with shockingly auburn hair, one with curly brown hair and glasses– she scanned each of their minds to see if it was really Faust and For'ende. Sure enough, it absolutely was; her scan found reference to the Blood Flags victory they'd just made, as well as the upcoming infiltration.

She stood up, waving to catch their attention, and while For'ende saved their place in line, Faust ran right over.

"Are you Shanna?" he asked.

"Unfortunately. Good job out there, by the way. I couldn't be there, but…" Shanna tapped her head, indicating that she'd scanned them. "Sorry. Had to know if you were the right people."

"It's fine. But do you think we could go somewhere else in a bit? This place is a little overstimulating."

"Oof," Shanna said sympathetically. "Yeah, I bet. Didn't even think about that, we can go out back or something when you guys are ready."

With frozen yogurt ordered (blueberry with cheesecake bits and caramel for For'ende, vanilla and orange sherbet with boba pearls for Faust, and coffee with hot fudge and raspberry syrup for Shanna) and paid for, the three of them went outside where it was darker and quieter.

"So… what's our plan?" Shanna asked after triple-checking that no one was around to hear. "Assuming we have one. If we don't, no big deal. It's a huge deal. I, uh, I talk when I'm nervous… sorry about that."

Faust proceeded to explain. "You'll enter the facility posing as Moirah Averil–"

"Hold up," For'ende enthused. "Hold the fuck up, you never told me Shanna was related to THOSE Averils! That's so cool, Shanna, do you think you could arrange a meeting? I'd love to talk to her. She's a real hero of–"

Shanna did not like the direction the conversation was going in. "Yeah, yeah, my aunt's famous, she's such a badass, can you have an autograph, I get it. She still left me here to rot. What were you saying, Faust?"

"You'll enter the facility posing as Moirah Averil, and introduce yourself as Marchosias's escort through the facility." Faust handed Shanna an earpiece, designed to look like the standard issue U.M.E.E.C. model. "I'll feed you directions all the way through. Unknowingly to him, I'll be leading the two of you to an unsecured room where 4boy and I can incapacitate him."

"How do we know they'll buy my story? Someone else could be escorting him."

"Nope," For'ende said. "Checked already. Moirah was requested specifically."

Shanna scoffed. "So she was going to be on Ersis and didn't even– right, right, okay, stay professional. So what do I do if he… you know, does his thing. If he tries to get to me?" What do I do if he figures out what I am? If he figures out who I am?

To be honest, Faust didn't really have an answer. As preoccupied as he was with contingency plans should something go wrong, he hadn't considered that it would be a concern– after all, what could Marchosias, a man he had every intention of delivering to his death, possibly do to Shanna or anyone else while rendered unable to speak or move? "If he does, I'll be here for you," he decided.

"I appreciate it. Really. What if he tries to get to you, though? You're gonna be around him a lot more than me."

"I'd love to see him try," Faust laughed. "I've already got a secure place to keep him. 4boy's seen it."

For'ende nodded in a way that made it clear to Shanna that the "secure place" in question would be overkill if it was meant to hold literally anyone else.

"Okay, that answers that question," Shanna laughed, impressed by Faust's confidence in the matter. "I sure hope you know what you're doing."

"I do. It'll be fine." A short pause, the last time he'd allow himself to have any doubts about the infiltration plan or what was to come after it. When he spoke again, he was completely single-minded in his conviction. "I wouldn't have asked for your help if I didn't know we were going to win."

#arkn legacy

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