Chapter 2.5: The Lost Cause

Inara, you are the only one to notice the transition when it happens. One moment, the constricting pain of being swallowed by an abominable conglomeration of vile creatures. The next, you are in a clearing by a river, lying on lush, impossibly blue-green grass. The only trace of the shoggoths is a slight stinging and ichor that still stains your clothes.

Hope and Phoenix lie passed out nearby.

You hear footsteps approach, and when you look up you see five scarlet threads wrapped around the hand of a stranger carved from black marble, dressed in finely embroidered clothes, and two of those shining threads are connected to you, Inara.

The rest connect to each of your companions, the most significant of which is a thick braided cord that links to Saint... who is already trying to shake himself off as the stranger walks up and pushes him back to the ground with one black-booted heel. "Do you ever even think before you run off and do these things? You dumb brick."

Inara, what is your play?

Healing (self): [2, 6 💥 6 💥 4 = 16]-3 Result: Success with 2 raises! 🎯🎯🎯

You were incapacitated. You are stable now, but roll on the Injury Table (2d6). This Injury will go away once all your wounds are healed.

Phoenix Injury Table (2d6) results: 3, 3 total: 6

Phoenix is injured in the guts. Rolling again to see which debuf. (1d6) results: 2 total: 2

healing: [6, 4]-1 Result: Success! 🎯

My chest heaves as I gasp for air, flopping over onto my side and staring at the soft grass. They're gone, but I can still feel them, horrible tentacles crawling over my body, flesh melting in waves of burning agony —

We really fucked that up, Vesper says. Are we dead?

I glance at Saint, Phoenix, and Hope. The latter two are unconscious, sprawled out on the grass. Too weak to withstand the shoggoth attacks — not that I did much better. If Saint's friend hadn't pulled us out of there...

My skin crawls and I look away. No. But six more seconds and we would be.

I force my breathing to slow and my face to smooth out. Control. One step at a time. Slowly, pain lancing through my body with every movement, I shift my fingers through the gestures to invoke Alabaster Mending. My magic responds eagerly, golden sparks pouring from my fingertips and flooding across my skin. They target the worst injuries first and sink into my flesh, knitting it back together out of glowing light. My mana plunges just as fast, leaving me with barely a drop by the time the spell ends.

A groan escapes my lips as I stagger to my feet, my once opulent red and gold robe hanging off me in tatters. "Saint." It comes out in a bare whisper. I wet my lips and try again. "Saint. Where are we?"

Saint has his fingers curled around the stylish boot on his chest, expression mullish despite the injuries carving open black marble to reveal the glowing rubies of his inner flesh. "Saintsholm," he says. "You're ..." He hesitates. "Where I'm from."

"AKA The Lost Cause," the second marble figure adds, lips curled back to show needlepoint teeth and eyes rolling, pupils reflecting green like a cat in the strange light.

"I told you, you could call part of the bondway that, but you can't name the rest of it," Saint groans, then winces as a trickle of blood drips through some of the rubies revealed in his flesh.

"No, it's not our relationship that's the lost cause, it's you," the smaller man says sweetly, pulling his foot back and moving to nudge Phoenix's arm with his boot, then drops to a crouch and pulls a flask from his pocket, busying himself over the fallen woman.

Saint takes this opportunity to sit up and look at Inara, breathing hard. ".. it's safe here. No one here will harm you or the others. I swear it."

The other man issues a sound of disgust at his wording.

Phoenix: [1, 1]+2 Result: Critical Failure! 💀

Phoenix lets out a rasping hiss.

I'll tangle you up in your own threads, it's for your own good, stay still!: [1, 1] Result: Critical Failure! 💀

The Lost Cause. I hide a flinch — he's not even talking to me, and the friendly insult cuts to the quick anyway. Maybe it's just because I'm so tired.

You should heal Phoenix and Hope, Vesper says.

I don't even glance at them. With what mana? Besides, the other guy's got it handled.

Saint's gaze snaps to Phoenix, then he lurches up to grab Hope, takes Inara's hand, and runs.

I stumble after Saint, knees nearly buckling with every step. Now that the adrenaline from the shoggoths is wearing off, the mana exhaustion settles in and coils around my bones. Why am I even running?

It's so hard to think.

undefined (2d6) results: 5, 1 total: 6

1–2 Broken: Agility reduced a die type (minimum d4).
3–4 Battered: Vigor reduced a die type (minimum d4).
5–6 Busted: Strength reduced a die type (minimum d4).```

undefined (1d6) results: 4 total: 4

Hope is Battered: Vigor reduced a die type (minimum d4).

It's only a couple of steps before Inara finds herself inside a building with warm wooden floors and matching wooden walls, a cozy living room with well-worn, overstuffed furniture, a crackling fire eternally burning in the hearth. There are handstitched quilts and pillows settled in easy reach of the various furniture and signs of group habitation - children's toys left near the hearth, a battered toy fox on the counter, other hobbies left abandoned in place by their wandering owners... and plenty of weapons and hunting trophies both mundane and unrecognizable hung out of reach of where small hands could take them down.

Hope, you wake to find yourself in Saint's arms, standing in a cabin.

Hope's first move is to check if her guns are in their holsters.

They are.

"shit, what happened? Where are we?"

"Big shoggoth with acid slime," Saint says, setting Hope carefully on the couch. "This is my house, we're in Saintsholm. Where I'm from."

"You just - teleported everyone out? Wait, where's Phoenix?"

Saint hesitates, touching his sternum like one would gingerly probe a bruise — the same location Inara had seen etherial red threads anchored to on each of them. “…No. Not… quite.” Saint picks his words like a novice dancer picks their steps. “My… Associate. Luck-Spinner. Did the bulk of it.”

He moves to pull a first aid kit out from inside a sidetable, deftly plucking out the necessary components for cleaning and bandaging. “Phoenix isn’t having a good reaction to being so badly injured. She’ll be ok though. Luck-Spinner can handle her.”

He stands then, and retrieves water and towels from the kitchen. “Hopefully Phoenix will be able to heal you up after she heals herself up, but for now we can at least stop the bleeding.”

Saint's gaze swings to Inara as he settles in next to Hope to start looking over her injuries. "Inara, please feel free to eat something or grab a drink if you need to, as long as you're comfortable formally accepting my hospitality and following the formal rules of hospitality that entails."

GUARDIAN uses First Aid: [5, 5] Result: Success! 🎯

1 wound healed

"That's fine by me." I give Saint a shallow nod that makes my head spin. When was the last time I felt this tired?

Oh. Right. The demon fight.

I push that memory away and make my way to the kitchen, rifling through the drawers and cabinets. It doesn't take long to find a tray of brownies. Sugar and calories. Perfect. Fresh, too.

By the time I've finished eating three, I feel a bit better. Still tired, but as long as I don't have to cast any more Mendings for the next half-hour or so, it should be fine.

So, Vesper says, startling me as I'm refilling my water glass. Are we going to talk about it? You know. Almost dying.

Is there a point?

She gives me a look, somehow, even though she's nothing more than a presence in the back of my head. Of course. Keeping it from happening again. Or do you not care about dying now?

Ugh. Talking to her is so annoying. There's a big difference between enjoying the occasional thrill and being suicidal. Of course I don't want to die. I bite back a sigh — Saint's still patching up Hope in the other room, and the last thing I want is two more people thinking I'm an insane maniac. Look, I underestimated the shoggoths. Is that what you want to hear? It won't happen again.

I suppose it'll have to do. You're not the only one in this body, you know.

The words are tight, controlled. She's hiding something. Maybe if I wasn't so damn tired I'd pry until she told me what it was, but right now?

Fuck that.

I finish my water and head back into the living room. Saint's house is such a mess... though the everburning fireplace is a nice touch. But the rest of it? The riot of quilts and pillows, the scattered toys, the random knick-knacks and junk — it's excessive. And not in a good way. Even the weapons scream of inferiority. Only a Giftless needs something as inelegant as a sword or a gun.

None of that is very cooperative, though. So instead, "How are you doing, Hope?"

She doesn't look good. Blood oozing from countless gashes, armor and clothes half-melted, shoggoth ichor spattered across everything. I'm going to have to heal her too, aren't I?

"Not dead? Could use more healing if that's available."

Inara, record a bond of “Guestrite” with Saint on the Bonds section of your character sheet.

Guest right: [5, 2] Result: Success! 🎯

Hope is familiar with Sacred Hospitality. BROKEN LINK

Saint's hands still for a moment as his eyes go unfocused, his body fading slightly like his saturation is being lowered, before he blinks and begins double-checking his work on Hope's bandages, saturation restored. "Phoenix and Luck-Spinner will be here soon. They have to walk here."

More healing, as if I can simply snap my fingers and make it happen.

I give Hope an apologetic smile. "Unfortunately I'm mostly out of mana, and Alabaster Mending is a rather expensive spell." A cooperative person wouldn't leave it at that, though. So, "Give me a few hours to recharge and I'll see what I can do."

"Yeah, no hurry, as long as we don't have to fight. Which I expect we don't."

Saint nods at Hope's words, then looks at Inara. "Phoenix can help with the recharge. I'd try to but it's not my area of expertise, and Luck-Spinner would charge. But Phoenix will help if she's got power left to spare."

"That would be most appreciated," I say, the perfect model of graciousness. Phoenix and Luck-Spinner must be far more skilled than I gave them credit for, if they can so easily transfer mana to another.

A few minutes later, there is a knock at the door, and after Saint hollers a welcome, Phoenix walks in. She's still splattered with shoggoth gore, but she now looks much healthier and whole.

Behind her, the smaller stone-skinned man saunters in, sporting a new spiderwebbing fracture on his ocular orbit, cracks showing green underneath.

"Thank you." She nods to Saint. "Ms. Sellain, Ms. Hope, allow me to introduce you to Lord Luck-Spinner of the Dynamic Court. He's the one who pulled some strings to get us out of the shoggoth's lair, for which we each owe him a debt. Lord Luck-Spinner, these are my employees, Ms. Sellain and Ms. Hope, who saw a neglected problem and had the courage to try to solve it." She nods, signaling the end of formal introductions. "Ms. Hope, I see that Saint has already dressed your wounds. Are you in need of additional healing?"

Luck-Spinner laughs quietly. "... to be precise, Ms. Sellains owes me twice. Ms. Hope owes me once."

Hope, Inara, Vesper, your character sheets have been updated to record this debt.

"I am, if that does not incur additional debt."

"I can heal you up. I would consider it part of my obligation as an employer to help you with injuries obtained while on the job. You would not owe me for it." She approaches and rests a hand on the exposed skin close to one of Hope's bandaged wounds.

Healing: [6 💥 4 = 10, 6 💥 6 💥 4 = 16]+2 Result: Success with 3 raises! 🎯🎯🎯🎯

Hope catches fire.

Arora flames burst out from Phoenix's palm and dance over and into Hope's skin like a purifying firework. Warmth and life sear deep into Hope's injuries, burning out the impurities in her wounds and supercharging her tissues to knit back together.

Hope, life energy flows into you, painlessly knitting wounds and restoring even the small aches and pains that you only notice you had now that they are absent. Even your mind feels clearer and more energized, stimulated like you've gotten perfect rest and perfect coffee and are ready to do anything. You can attend to each of your senses and feel faster and more in tune with everything. You are ready to move! To go! To Protect and make the world right! You are more present in your body than you ever remember being outside a fight, like a flow state but with full cognition and the ability to chose anything.

You are completely healed and have a temporary negative fatigue point. Meaning you could absorb a fatigue level before feeling any ill effects.

"Whoa. Thanks, I feel great now!"

Phoenix pauses, peering at Hope curiously. "I... may have overdone it. But you seem fine. Better too much than too little, I suppose."

~~She turns to Inara. "Ms. Sellain, do you need any healing or restoration?"~~

"I'm fine physically," I say. "But if you have mana to spare, that would be much appreciated."

desperately try to remember about fae: [3, 0]-2 Result: Failure ❌

desperately try to remember about fae: [1, 2]-3 Result: Failure ❌

desperately try to remember about fae: [1, 1]-1 Result: Critical Failure! 💀

Inara is pretty sure fae are either Seelie or Unseelie. The Summer Court is Seelie, the Winter Court is Unseelie. The “Dynamic Court” is not ringing any bells.

Vesper remembers that fae can be summoned with similar circles to the ones that can be used to summon demons.

"Well met, Luck-Spinner." Keeping my voice steady is the hardest thing I've ever done. A fae? This is a nightmare.

I've met them before. Twice, in fact. But those were at family events. Not in some unknown realm without a shred of support or preparation.

I can't remember much about fae. Courts, seasons, Seelie and Unseelie — it's all a jumble. Seelie are the Summer fae. Fragments from lessons I barely paid attention to. Ways to deal with them if I was ever unlucky enough to run into one. Make no deals, accept no favors, never owe them anything. Too fucking late for that. Luck-Spinner already said I'm in his debt. Twice.

Fuck. How did this happen? How do I escape this? I have to look calm, normal, human, but ever fiber of my soul screams at me. Lash out. Flee. Something. Anything. I can't, I can't I can't I ca —

— and then I'm through. I stumble slightly, catching my balance just in time for Phoenix to start healing Hope, wave after wave of coruscating flame bursting from her palm. And behind the light-show, Luck-Spinner. He's watching me, not even pretending to hide his interest. Can he tell that I'm not Inara?

Phoenix asks me if I want healing and of course I say yes. Inara's Mending didn't patch everything up and besides, I have to know what it feels like.

Calm down, I say to Inara while Phoenix prepares. Luck-Spinner saved our lives! He's not going to enslave us, or whatever it is you're afraid of. He'll probably just want some help killing some monsters or something.

Inara's response is barely coherent, laced with panic. I shrug and tune her out — there's no telling how long she'll let me front, and I don't want to miss a second of it.

Saint's attention swivels away from the first-aid kit he's leafing through to Vesper, confusion clear on his features as Inara, who had accepted formal hospitality, suddenly... hasn't?

Luck-Spinner's smile ticks just a little wider, the luminous green showing through the fractured marble of his face growing just a little brighter as he does. "Does Phoenix need to introduce me to you, or were you listening?"

Oops. That's way more attention than I was expecting.

"I was listening," I say. "Thanks for pulling me out of the shoggoth lair, by the way. I thought I was going to die down there."

"Good. Points for good manners," Luck-Spinner grins, showing needlepoint teeth, folding his hands behind his back and striding closer. "But that is why both of you owe me a debt, even if you're not the one who walked yourself inside that mess. Tell me, what's your name?"

"Oh! Of course. I'm Vesper."

No sooner does the last syllable fall from my lips than I remember that I'm supposed to pretend to be Inara. Do Phoenix and Saint and Hope even know about me? It's so hard to keep all the lies and half-truths straight.

Oh well. If they didn't know before, they sure do now. Hopefully they won't think I'm crazy or anything — though maybe Inara would be grateful if I got us fired from this job. She sure doesn't seem to like it very much.

Phoenix is watching, face a formal pleasant smile.

Saint looks at Luck-Spinner, then back to Vesper. "Vesper is also my guest and under my protection."

Luck-Spinner laughs at Saint, waving him off. "I didn't ask her to give me her name, Guardian. Besides, it's useful for you to know, too, isn't it?"

He tips his head, smile widening as he looks at Vesper. "So. What do you think of the Dawn Commission, Vesper?"

"Well, I've only been part of it for a little while —" most of which I wasn't fronting for "— but it seems good? Slaying monsters, helping people. Good stuff."

Ugh. I could really use some of Inara's charm right about now. It's not that I think the Dawn Commission is bad, it's just... not what I would do with my life, if I had any say in it.

Luck-Spinner laughs quietly. "Is it what you want?"

He'll stride forward to throw an arm around her shoulder, steering her towards the kitchen. "Come on, let's get you something to eat or drink, Saint'll stop being anxious if you accept his hospitality and I want to hear more about you. Phoenix has told us quite a bit about Ms. Sellain, but I wonder which one I've been hearing about."

I don't resist as he pulls me into the kitchen. "Probably Inara. She's usually the one doing, well, everything."

The brownies are still out on the counter almost where Inara had left the tray, but with a couple more missing. There's the faint sound of hushed giggling and the scampering of small feet from the far kitchen doorway.

"Well. That doesn't sound fun at all. How about you tell me about you?" Luck-Spinner searches the cabinets like Saint's kitchen is part of his own domain, popping a brownie into his mouth and starting to concoct some kind of cocktail.

Between one blink and the next his appearance has shifted, more silver earrings peppering his pointed ears and tailcoat shortened into a waistcoat patterned with shadow and starlight, his wrists and forearms twined with red strings that form an elaborate lattice before they curl around his fingers and fade out of sight.

His voice drops so it won't carry out of the kitchen. "What do you want? How did you two get involved? You're stitched up tight together, but it's your flesh and blood, isn't it? What deals have you made with her to put her in charge?"

"There was an uh, accident with a demon." No need to mention what really happened. "Our souls got fused together, permanently, as far as I know." I take one of the brownies and stare at it. "She's stronger than me. Better at magic, better willpower, better bloodline. So there wasn't really a deal, it just... kind of worked out this way."

"Guardian doesn't put anything fun in the food, don't worry. Everything in the kitchen is safe for human consumption," Weaver gestures towards the second doorway with the cocktail shaker in his hand, indicating the space where giggles and tiny feet could be heard moments before. "His little chips need to eat."

Weaver pours the drink he's mixing into two glasses and offers one to Vesper. "No strings. If I offer you a drink with strings attached, you'll know. So. Sounds like she stole you. That's not very heroic, is it?"

He levels her a look. "What would you give to be on an even footing with her, Vesper? Do you think you deserve to play second fiddle in your own skin because she got the luck of the draw, or do you think she needs to learn how to share a little better?"

I hesitantly take a sip of Luck-Spinner's drink. It's sweet. Peaches and nectarines. The man in front of me is charming, but when he asks what I'd be willing to give, some distant part of my mind twinges in alarm. Fae are basically demons -- they both come from summoning circles, after all. And last time I tried to make a deal with a demon, well...

Still, it can't hurt to know what the options are.

"Inara would say she deserves to front because she's stronger and better than me," I say. "She would list the accomplishments to her name, the people she's saved, monsters defeated, and so on. She's crazy and intense but if you're looking for heroism she's got a better claim to the title than me."

"As for your other question, I don't know. Should I really be getting myself further into your debt? If the best healers the Sellain family could afford couldn't separate us after months of study, I doubt even you can fix this."

"But for all her accomplishments she still fucked up badly enough to lose her own body," Weaver arches a brow. "Heroes don't steal bodies. Villains do. I'm better than a lot of people and I don't have to steal to get what I want, I can just ask."

He leans against the counter, taking a sip of his drink. "I'm less interested in heroism than Saint is. I'm interested in people and their potential."

"I didn't offer to separate you, I can't Unweave you with a guarantee of either of you surviving the process, and at best could only keep one of you alive. You'd be the best candidate, of course, because it's your body and has no chance of rejecting you," He smiles slowly wider. "But I have no interest in letting either of you die. Debt is leverage but it is also a kind of bond, and bonds go both ways. If you're dead I can't collect..."

He looks towards the living room. "... Besides, I'm not the only one invested in seeing your sister learn how to play nice. I think it would be in her best interest as well as your own. If she only respects power, I could let you borrow some of mine, as part of a mutually beneficial arrangement. Her bond with you is horribly unbalanced, and she owes you big time."

"A 'mutually beneficial' arrangement, huh? Because you want to keep us alive so you can 'collect', is that it? That can't be all you're after -- if it was, you could just let Inara continue as she has these past few years. She doesn't want to die any more than I do."

"Cutting a deal with your sister would only feed her bad habits, Vesper," he laughs quietly. "What potential is there in feeding her more power? It's boring. What is interesting to me is seeing what would happen if the two of you were placed on a more equal footing. Giving you the oompfh to kick her knees out and shift her paradigm until she has to acknowledge you as an equal sounds like exactly what both of you need to make some real progress."

He wiggles his half-empty cocktail glass, grinning wider. "... but aside from little tasks here and there to help mortal or less-mortal allies, my usual ask of my Pontiffs is to work on skills, new or old, lean into some ambitions and drives, curate some fun aspects and grow... then let me snip little bits off the ends here and there to add to my box of buttons and thread to work with later. The details are negotiable, especially if you agree to continue working with the Dawn Commission."

He drums his nails against his chest, considering, before touching an invisible red braid and bringing it into visibility. "...besides, if Saint catches wind of or recalls the imbalance between you when he isn't anchored by an agreement with Phoenix he'll drive himself into a spiral because he can't protect you from something inside your own soul."

Inara, acknowledge me as an equal? Hah. That'll never happen. Still, it's not a bad thought — and the price he's talking about doesn't sound that bad either. It'd be a chance at freedom, years before I expected it. A chance to go back to learning magic. And if he takes some of what I learn later, well, it's better than the scraps I get studying at night while Inara is asleep, held back by the need to move slowly and quietly so as to avoid waking her.

"How would you, uh, place us on equal footing?" I ask.

"That depends on the arrangement we come to, this isn't a one-sided negotiation. I have many titles which can be invoked or called upon, and each of them allow a different leverage upon the world. I am Weaver, I am Destiny-Shaper, I am Luck-Spinner, I am Name-Maker."

His eyes glitter. "A Pontiff may call upon the title or titles they have negotiated access to and use some of the power inherent in them to change the world in a much more direct way than someone using ritual magic. But. Since you're asking how I would start?"

He sets his empty glass down and presses his hands together, pulls them apart to reveal an intricately tangled weave of red strings, knotted, braided, and even felted together in spots. "I suggest starting with your Name. She's been making you use hers, after all. It could be argued that she should be using your family name, considering the flesh and blood you now share, but if her heritage is part of what she derives her power from... Names have power and she's been offering her name for you to use. It would be well within my power to help you accept that offer and become Vesper Sellain, if you wished to do so."

As he speaks the name aloud a thread lights up between his hands, glowing luminous green as it alters the weave between his fingers, color shooting through and rearranging, turning some of the raw sections of felted crimson into cables and braids of red and green.

He smiles wide, needlepoint teeth on display. "That might help balance her debt, too."

I stare entranced at the threads hanging from his hands. Vesper Sellain. Holy shit. He can do that? I didn't even know it was possible. Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to discard my family's name but... what has it ever brought me? The wizard branch of my family cut me off after I failed Arcanum's entrance exam, and then had the gall to reach out to Inara after the fusion, begging her to restore honor back to my lineage. Fuck them. And it would be so right, the perfect payback for all those times Inara made me pretend to be her, hiding even when I was fronting.

"What exactly would taking the Sellain Name do?" I ask, doing my best to conceal my eagerness. I could really use some of Inara's calculated control right now — I'm probably an open book to this guy. "A Name is like, your essential concept, right? Would I get her talent at magic? Her knowledge?"

"Well, what does taking another's surname usually do? You'll share in her fortunes, good and ill. Bonds of the Sellain family would extend to you, with all the obligations and boons. Anything personal to Inara... no. Her talent and knowledge are likely tied to her rather than her family. I might be able to give you a bit of wiggle room in that regard. Blur the Boundries a smidge, but Saint might not like that intrusion on Inara - consent is a vital keyword, here."

"Your Name is all of you. But the word is a much smaller piece, the key to your identity. How deep the impact is on you depends on how deeply you're willing to allow me to work," Weaver says, expression serious. "I can connect core concepts that you share - although for some things your sister or her blood relatives would have to agree to work with me.. but to make your shared body truly one of the Sellain family would be within my capabilities with the right materials and connections to draw from.... and, as my Pontiff, they would be... unwise to refuse to recognize your potential as well as Inara's. You're not a mere vessel for her to inhabit - especially not if you truly become one of their blood in body. A name carries weight. It gives you leverage to push and to pull - socially, magically, etcetera."

He kicks himself up to perch on the edge of the counter, crossing one foot behind the ankle of it's partnered boot. "You have enough in common that grafting will be simpler for some things. You have the gift, but something burned it out," he twists his hands, revealing a damaged thread. "I've repaired worse damage before. More than one of Saint's little chips have needed repairs when he brought them here. Taking the smallest clipping from your sister's gift - one that may take a few days to regrow - would be enough to jumpstart your own... or, if she was willing to cooperate, I could form a bridge between your gifts to allow your own prematurely damaged potential to heal and, in time, allow the two of you to become stronger together than either of you could be on your own."

I can't take my eyes off the damaged, frayed thread. It hurts a little to admit that the wizards were right -- that I was broken. But they were wrong, too. It can be fixed. Luck-Spinner isn't just offering me my life back; he's offering to make it better.

"Inara will never agree to help with that second idea," I say. "But I like the sound of the first. What precisely do you want as payment for changing my Name and fixing me?"

It doesn't matter what he says. There's no way I'm walking away from this.

"Is that what she's telling you?" Weaver chuckles quietly. "Fair enough. Become one of my Pontiffs. Help me with affairs that require mortal hands. Assist me in diversifying the materials I have to work with - hobbies, skills, passions, positive, negative, neutral, the wider a portfolio I have and the more nuance there is within it the better. I don't ask for things that are impossible. Hard, maybe, long-term projects, absolutely, but not things I would consider impossible. Which Name or Names you can invoke is something that can be discussed and negotiated, as is duration."

He considers the weave between his fingers, calculating and calibrating. "...I don't like cutting deals with no exit clause, but a long-term arrangement would best balance out. A Pontiff bond allows more... reciprocity. If I help you as part of an ongoing agreement, the cost isn't so sharp. You become an investment towards future endeavors and successes, thus the help I offer you becomes a way to help myself."

He huffs a quiet laugh. "I would like you to accept employment with the Dawn Commission, but that decision is not mine to make for you, Pontiff or not. The work your group is doing already serves a purpose for me - it means Saint is less likely to be called in for smaller affairs - which frees him up for other things I need him for."

"She's not awake right now, I don't think. It's easy to lose track of time when you're not fronting, especially if you're not used to it. But I hardly need to ask her to know what she'd say." I pause to collect my thoughts. "You say that which Names I can invoke and their duration is something that's negotiable. Do you mean that I would only be Vesper Sellain and have my full magic while invoking you as Name-Maker?"

"In that case, if she isn't paying attention... one of the tasks I'd be asking you to assist with is the very long-term project of shifting her towards playing nice with others... and meaning it." His jaw tightens, the green glow showing through the impact fracture growing brighter as his expression contorts into one of rage. "Saint may not care if she offers him veiled offense while under his protection but I do. Kick her fucking teeth in and then pull her to her feet. Teach her that kindness is strength and not weakness. She may think her disdain is well-concealed but her attitude requires adjustment."

He twitches, baring his needleteeth in a wide rictus of a smile. "....I have been kindly asked not to hunt her with my scissors in hand to cut her down to size as soon as she's out of my - Saint's protection and I have given Phoenix my word that I will not, but I want to. She will get herself killed and take you with her if she does not learn to respect those who are not like her, whether they could harm or would harm her or not."

He abruptly closes his eyes and breathes in through his teeth before smiling at Vesper, all trace of rage and anger vanished. ".... I can see why you would misunderstand, I apologize for being unclear and assuming you would understand my meaning. No, you would be forever Vesper Sellain and your magic would be permanently repaired - so long as you're cautious enough to develop the skill and not push past your limits it should not be damaged again. I would help, if it were, but I don't think either of us would be pleased to have you damaged so again. Work done by my hands is permanent, not transitory."

. He smiles slowly. "The duration I indicate is the duration of our agreement to be Patron and Pontiff. Even if you never chose to invoke one of my titles our bond would be ongoing until an agreed upon endpoint or your permanent death." His smile quirks up at the corners, a private joke. "I do not agree to share access to all of my names or power. Luck-Spinner is one of the easiest for a mortal to reliably understand enough to invoke efficiently. Weaver, for your purposes, may best be used as a way to attain knowledge about the world and others at this time - one must understand the threads they work with before they can use them.. although you could use Weaver to invoke my scissors - conceptually - and take a nice chunk out of someone who meant you harm. A double benefit if it snips off anything you could bring to me as supplies for my work."

"I don't want to sound like I'm defending her, but..." I hesitate, searching for the words. "Anyone would be like her, if they were raised in the environment she was. I-I don't know if that's something that can be fixed, but it seems like I'm going to be stuck with her, even after this, so I'm willing to try."

He's already offering so much. A better Name. My life back. My magic healed. And now access to his Fae mantle? Knowledge about the world and others. Could there be a more perfect aspect for me?

"If you could see through Inara, I'm pretty sure I'm an open book to you, so I'm just going to be honest with you. If you fix my Name and magic, that's more than I ever expected to have. If you give me access to Weaver too, I'd be more than happy to stay at the Dawn Commission, work on... rehabilitating Inara, and run whatever jobs you need me to." And then, because I'm not a total idiot who can't learn from her past mistakes, "You said that the duration is about the duration of the bond. Can we start with something a little less extreme than 'until death' and maybe work our way up to that?"

"That would be why cutting the arrogance out wouldn't fix the problem," he pouts. "It would just grow back. That's why these things get messy. It can be done. I did it to myself, after all..."

He glances towards the living room, then shrugs, looking back to Vesper. "... with some assistance of my own. My bond with Saint has been very helpful in that regard."

He kicks his feet for a moment, letting the threads in his hand drop away. "Absolutely, on both points. Come on, this is a good place to start our talk but not the best place to end it."

He jumps from the counger and strides towards the doorway, whistling. "Doorman!"

Saint's attention swivels towards Weaver, then he rolls his eyes. "Invoke it properly."

Weaver scrunches his nose and makes a disdainful face. "It looks stupid when I do it the way you do. Just give me a shortcut to the bondway. We'll be back soon, you lot all still need to figure out how you're going to finish dealing with that mess of monsters I pulled you out of before they realize the barrier keeping them in that damn lot got breached enough to let them through. I want you to make a smart plan, this time!"

Saint sighs, walking to a blank doorway that blends into the wood of the walls and kicks it.

A pathway blooms into sight through the doorway, set with black marble stones, blue-green grass and trees strung with vibrant decorations stitched with green and red threads. The path is lit and cozy but the sky is dark, a moonless night scattershot with stars and the dancing lights of an auroura.

"My workshop is this way, Vesper. It's only fair that you get to see my demense if you're going to be my Pontiff!"

He sweeps through the doorway and heads down the path. "Besides, I want to fix your clothes, they're in tatters!"

Chapter 2.7: Are You Feeling Lucky

Saint looks at Phoenix and Hope, still leaking blood from some of the exposed gemstones that make up his inner flesh. "...the barrier's broken?"

"Thank you for the rescue, Luck-Spinner. I wasn't aware there was a barrier? I thought they were just hiding, not trapped." Hope belatedly remembers that saving people from mortal danger is the sort of thing that normal people with a sense of self-preservation thank you for.

Weaver vanishes down the path with Vesper.

"If they weren't being kept inside the lot before this there would be a lot more dead people."

Luck-Spinner leans on the doorway Weaver and Vesper just passed through, outline picked out in glowing green, his brow arched above his cracked ocular orbit, looking between Hope and Saint. "Our expert gave the situation her appraisal. Phoenix knows the details."

"Yes." Phoenix confirms. "I had noticed when we entered the lot. The fence and ground around it seemed to have had some working, but it was broken by the time we crossed it. Lady Watercolor-Map reports that it had been two barriers: a perimeter ward and an inward-facing containment ward placed on top of it at a later date. It had been damaged and finally broken today."

"Oh. That might have been Alric when he was trying to figure out how the silencing effect worked."

Phoenix sighs. "What did he do?"

"If I remember correctly, he made a line in the dirt, across the entrance, to see if it would get tidied up like everything else. But there was no visible line or spell circle or anything."

"Deliberately? Just across the entrance?"

Luck-Spinner cackles. "Sometimes boundaries and thresholds are as simple as that."

"... I've used borders between lots or sidewalks as doors before," Saint says, quiet and just a little self-conscious.

Phoenix shakes her head. "He's still learning. Mistakes happen, especially for the curious who think with their actions."

She sniffs. "Oh, Saint, Luck-Spinner, may I offer you healing?"

Saint looks at himself, then back at Phoenix. "Oh. Yes. Thank you. "

Luck-Spinner laughs quietly. "You'd have to come to me. Vesper will lose her guide through the bondway if I come out."

Phoenix Healing Flames: [1, 1]+2 Result: Critical Failure! 💀

Saint takes a wound. :/

Phoenix lays her hand on Saint, but instead of knitting his wounds together, this time her aurora fire boils his blood as fuel, licking into his ruby veins hungerly. She stops as soon as she notices her mistake. "No! I'm so sorry, Saint!"

Saint flinches, gritting his teeth before waving her apology off. "Tsssss. It's fine, Phoenix, I'm alright. Stings less than when Weaver takes chips off."

Luck-Spinner winces. "....whoops. You did heal Hope up pretty spectacularly, didn't you? My bad. Uh. Don't worry about me, I'll just stitch myself up when I get to my workshop, hm?"

Phoenix purses her lips. "I doubt we can be in good enough shape to make another attempt at the shoggoth nest today. I could ask Lady Watercolor-Map to hold the barrier, I have some credit with her. But we still need a better plan to attack the nest."

"She's already keeping an eye on things for the moment," Luck-Spinner shrugs. "I asked her to keep an eye on it since Saint was in the thick of it. His tab, not yours. Save your credits."

Saint shifts his weight from one foot to another. "... I don't think I like fighting things with tentacles. Hope, do you have any ideas for how we can get around those?"

"Flooding the tunnels with carbon monoxide and waiting?"

“That could work. I am inclined to burn the whole mouldering manor house down.” Phoenix says primly. “At this point, I am disinclined to think that there is anyone alive in their nest, and strategies that would account for captives are most likely too risky for our safety to implement.”

Saint looks intensely uncomfortable as Phoenix says trying to rescue any potential hostages is too risky, buries both hands in his palms, then breathes out, slow. The Hunter drops his hands and sighs, flexing sharpened claws in and out of his fingers as he thinks, teeth gone sharp and his ears gone pointed. His aura is no longer so protectively friend-shaped.

"We need to get to the tunnels, first," Saint runs a hand over his short hair. "Burning the building might do the trick to clear a way to the doorway, but if there's something going on, like a Dream Age? You might need me to hold that doorway open to get anything through. Do we know if they can metabolize carbon monoxide?"

"We don't. Though Mr. Jorgensen has sold Mr. Morgan some of the corpses. We could ask to test some samples, or wait at the periphery to snatch another shoggoth for tests." Phoenix says. "Do you think it is too early for another recuriting call?"

Saint opens his mouth to reply, just to get cut off by Luck-Spinner's voice. "Don't start recruiting before you've let your team become a working team, Phoenix. You were doing so well at letting them succeed or fail of their own merits and a failure you survive is a learning experience. If you can't trust them to make their own plans - including ones where you're an asset they're learning to utilize - there's no point to this whole experiment."

"Of course." She sighs. She nods to Hope. "I'll endeavor to refrain from hampering your team's growth."

"So..." Saint shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking at Hope. "...does this mean we should wait for Vesper, then contact the last member of your team, so you can make plans together? Or.... do you want us to hold the barrier until Monday, when the Commission is having normal opening hours?"

"Monster hunting isn't a 9 to 5 kind of job. I expect Alric will be on board. How long do you expect Vesper to be?"

"Long enough that someone should go rest so he doesn't need anyone to put him back together," Luck-Spinner says critically. "I'm sure if Phoenix or Hope need someone to show them around one of your chips can come down and introduce themselves."

Saint hesitates. "You... probably have a point. I can go... do that." He looks to Hope. "...make yourself at home. If you're willing to accept formal hospitality, feel free to raid the kitchen. Phoenix has been here before, so she knows... most of my kids."

Saint kicks his boots off in the direction of the front door before he heads down the hall, towards the stairs, pulling off his coat as he heads out of sight, leaving Hope and Phoenix alone for the moment

"So, if it's not rude to ask, is you reacting dangerously when injured related to your healing magic feeling like cocaine? Not that I've tried cocaine. The two seem to rhyme."

Phoenix’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh! In a way. I manipulate life energy to accomplish my healing. It can be harder to control here, where physics is bound differently. The —ah— cocaine feeling was the result of me giving you excess vitality. I apologize if it caused you distress.”

While polite, and seeming to be adjacent to an answer. Phoenix didn't actually answer Hope's question.

"No, it's fine, thank you for the healing. Do I, or more likely Vesper, need to be ready to restrain you if you are critically injured again? Though I hope it will not come up."

"That is one consideration of why I invited Saint along to go hunting with us." Phoenix allows. "It is rare that I lose myself. But it has happened in the past."

A pause. “I would appreciate the precaution of restraining me should I be at risk of losing myself.”

"Ok, good to know." Hope checks her phone absentmindedly. No signal, of course. "Wait, how long have we been out of contact?"

Phoenix also checks her phone. No internet connection, and the clock says it’s only been a couple of hours since they’d entered the Dyer Estate.

“Hard to tell.” Phoenix says. “Most likely about an hour, but time can slip when you travel to another realm.”

Luck-Spinner titters. "It's not the only thing that can get away from you, here. Incoming, 'Auntie'..." his voice lilts as he teases. "I'll see you when Vesper and I are done. Weaver's exiting the bondway."

Luck-Spinner unspools into glowing green threads that vanish down the bondway.

A few seconds later, a gaggle of shrieking children slam open the door.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!" A maybe-eight-year-old girl with lambchop sideburns runs in and slaps the walls. "Brian stabbed me in the toe!"

"It was an accident!" protests a morose young boy behind her. He has full black eyes and a port wine birthmark.

"It wasn't an accident! Hi, Aunt Phoenix. Is Dad in?"

"Hello, Miss Kore. He is but he's resting right now."

"Kore's lying. It was an accident!" Brian continues to protest.

A teenager emerges from a doorway to intercept the kids. "Hi" he smiles tight-lipped to Hope and Phoenix. He has black sclera, but unlike Brian, his irises gleam a muddy green. "Come here, what is this about?" He asks the two shouting children.

Behind him another teenager drifts in, plain and blank faced, with a lost air about him.

Another kid slips in from outside and sidles up to Hope. "What model of guns are those?" She asks. This one appears about ten, and is a little chunky.

"Colt M1911A1's, one customized for left-hand use. My father's, he was a lefty."

The kid cocks her head to one side. "Those are army pistols, right? Carlos and me are making replica Simeon North dueling pistols. We're wanting to make rifling in them but it's real hard to get the thread bore right. Did you make those with your dad?"

"Army surplus, yeah. A friend of my dad's was a gunsmith, he did the modification. He made silver bullets and stuff for him too. I know my guns, but I'm not a gunsmith. Making pistols from scratch is really impressive, that's a cool project!"

"They don't work all that well." The kid twists the hem of her shirt bashfully. "Your dad was a monster hunter? My dad was a monster hunter too. He died. But then Saint got the monster before it could get me."

"Yes, and he was good at it. He was training me, he bought me a gun matching his for my 16th birthday. I was impatient to join him on his hunts, but he kept saying I was too young. And then he died." "I'm glad Saint saved you. He seems to save a lot of people."

She nods emphatically. "I want to be like you when I grow up!"

It perhaps is a bit too hasty for a child to declare that she wants to be like you when she grows up. Or, it might be case of a child resonating with a calling. Hope, what do you think about this child? Would you encourage or discourage her from the life that you lead?

"One day people will not need monster hunters. But probably that will not happen in a decade. If you do become a monster hunter, try not to hunt alone - it's good to have friends."

She frowns. “Yeah… I’ve made some friends here but… I want to go back to Richmond. I had friends there too and I never see them again.” She leans in and whispers. “Some of the kids here are too weird. They’re like monsters too.”

Hope, roll Common Knowledge or Occult.

Common Knowledge: [6 💥 3 = 9, 5] Result: Success with 1 raise! 🎯🎯

Hope as you watch more children venture into the room and talk amongst themselves and to Phoenix, you remember that one scene from the old Peter Pan live action movie with all the lost boys crowding around Wendy. And then later learning of how, in the original material, the lost boys age while Peter doesn’t, and every so often he “thins them out.”

Also, the child talking to you has huddled closer and more behind you as more kids enter the room. Keeping her back to the wall and her eyes on the others.

"How and why did you move here, from Richmond?"

“Dad died, so Saint took me.”

"Were all the children here brought by Saint?"

“Yeah.” She nods. “He’s the house.”

"What happens when they grow up? Does he drop them back where they came from?"

“I don’t know. No one has before and I’ve been here for months!”

"Well, that's not too long. What makes you say they are like monsters?"

"Months is a very long time!" The girl protests. She shoots a suspicious look at the other children and stretches on tip toes again to whisper, "Theo eats blood! Plus Natalie has, like, claws and sharp teeth and a tail and sometimes she has fur and she keeps climbing up the walls and trying to scare me when I don't check the ceiling or above doors!" A pause. "Also Isaac's, like. Part squid or something because his skin changes colors and he has a bunch of extra eyes when he's paying attention to stuff? And Ales says he is a flesh monster and threatened to eat my tear ducts out because I was crying. And he did bite Song and got in big trouble. And also Lucky's kid is actually a big wasp bird thing."

"Well, everybody's different. If he got in trouble for biting, then probably you are safe, yeah? Was it a bad bite?"

The girl frowns. "She didn't have a hand until Lucky put it back on."

"Oh dear. Well, good thing you have someone who can fix that. I can ... ask Saint about what happens to the older kids? Have you asked him anything?"

"Theo's the oldest. He says he's been seventeen forever."

After a short pause, and a frowning face of gathering up her courage, she blurts out, “Do you have kids? Can you adopt me? I don’t want to be here anymore.”

"I don't have kids. Or a home to raise kids in. I will try and figure out what is going on with all of you, and help you if I can."

“What does that even mean?! Thats not an answer!” She starts to whine now.

"I don't make promises I can't keep, even when I'm not in the realm of the fae. I'll try." Hope walks away to find Saint.

Saint headed down the hall and up the stairs, so that's probably a good place to start. Will Hope call out as she goes looking, ask someone where his room is in the house or just take her time and get a good feel for the house - and the environment the kids have been living in - while she looks for Saint?

Exploring quietly.

Is there anything in particular she'd like to look out for with a Notice or Occult roll?

The home feels almost like it's asleep as Hope ascends the stairs to the next level of the house. It feels like something should be barring her path, like the house hesitates for a heartbeat as her feet moves from stairs to landing before the feeling dissipates. If this is a test, Hope has yet to fail. There are rooms, here, doors with names and decorations, placed in a way that feels like they're not laid out quite to scale, even if there's a clear effor to make things feel closer to the world of mortals.

There are a pair of teenage girls talking quietly in a room with an open door, both with soft wings and feathered hair, one with black feathers and one with white. Their door has stickers proclaiming it a space for MIN & GWEN. The apparent size of the room doesn't leave quite enough room for the neighboring one. Hope can see what seems to be the tail end of an argument as the white-feathered girl pulls on a white biker jacket and grabs a crowbar, gesturing. "Just don't tell him I'm taking the call, I'll be fine - it isn't like he won't figure it out as soon as I'm through the door anyway-"

There are other rooms, open and closed, and the open ones seem comfortable enough. There is a sign at one end of the hall that seems to point down another hall to 'school'.

Hope will check out the "school".

The hall towards the 'school' has more doors with names, but these quickly thin out to be replaced by doors labeled with things like 'art + art supplies', 'playroom', and 'library' - the library door has been left open enough to see that it's definitely not a great library but it definitely has books. These rooms seem more incongruous, like they don't quite fit right, like someone pasting a human face onto a cartoon body.

There's a door at the end of the hall that opens up to a classroom, with child and teen sized worktables and a series of names with homework assignments on the board, a corkboard with notes about learning goals written in printing that runs a wide range of competencies. The one closest the door says something about graduating from homeschool by next Spring so they can go to 'Real High School and do sports!!!'

Further inside, towards the front, is a stack of How To Homeschool books and what looks like an anthropology guide by someone named Faeresiensis that has several brightly coloured post-its scattered throughout the pages.

There's a door inset into the back wall that's labelled 'Bus Stop' and which has several cubbies hammered onto the wall and labelled with names that hold backpacks and shoes.

The minute hand on the clock at the front of the classroom is spinning.

... Spinning how fast?

Not exceptionally fast, but fast enough that it's making noticeable progress around the clock before her eyes.

Well that's concerning. Even more questions for Saint!

Is Hope going to poke around and see if she can Notice anything, or head back out and keep exploring?

The minute hand is spinning at about the rate the second hand normally spins at.

Hope is not going to step into the apparently time-dilated classroom, but will inspect from the door.

Notice: [4, 6 💥 3 = 9] Result: Success with 1 raise! 🎯🎯

Hope notices that there's a smaller number of desks and posted lesson plans than the number of bedroom doors she's passed - even adding the cubbies next to the bus stop door doesn't even out the total.

The lesson plans have a mix of handwriting styles - if this is a homeschool set-up it's definitely one that operates on the "it takes a village to raise a child" principle. Considering there are far more children than handwriting styles, though...

There's a handbound book next to one of the stack of "how to homeschool" books that has _So your public education stopped in 1950: major science and mathematical developments cheat sheet w/ diagrams & layman explanations! _

There's a desk with a guide to car mechanics tucked into the student's open drawer, with a black feather and a braided piece of fur that have been laminated together and tucked into the pages as a bookmark.

There's a letter from Lamentation University pinned under one of the students names on the individual student lesson plan corkboard. The pin has a carefully-stuck Congratulations! sticker on the top.

One of the students has, in big letters WEREWOLF TRANSMISSION CURES!!! as their yearlong project goal.

There's half-wiped away notes on one of the whiteboards that says, in a bright green marker Historical Inter______ns: The Summer Cou__ - Thisl The rest is actually wiped clean

If werewolf transmission could be cured by a high school student, it would have been done by now. But good for them. If more qualified people cared about solving that particular problem, like if maybe the Council decided to do something useful for a change, perhaps Hope would still have a father. I wonder if they lost someone to a werewolf bite too. Hope will ask who is working on that project if she gets a chance.

Hope's paying attention, she can figure out which student it is... the proposal is pinned on her section of the planning board, after all: Natalie.

Will Hope remain and investigate further? What does she want to do and which direction?

Hope will head back, looking for Saint.

Back, towards the front room and Phoenix, or or back towards the hall and looking for another path?

Either way, Roll Notice.

Back to the hall and another path.

Notice: [2, 5]+1 Result: Success! 🎯

Exiting the classroom and heading further down the hallway leads Hope to a curved hallway that opens up into a smaller version of the living room she was in earlier, with a few young teens loitering around and reading, a cozy looking place that has an open doorway that leads back to the kitchen up front - Hope can tell because she can hear Phoenix talking to the children through the doorway.

There are several signs posted on the wall pointing to various halls and stairwells, including ones pointing to 'Bus Stop' which is not the way you came, Emergency Supplies, Workshop, and Emergency Exits.

Hope will explore the other(?) Bus Stop

The door is tucked on the side of a small alcove that looks like it used to be part of a longer hallway that no longer exists, with just enough space for some backpacks hung on the wall nearby and extra shoes. There's a big, bold sticker on the door that says USE SCHOOLROOM BUS STOP UNLESS YOU'RE LATE FOR CLASS!!!!! We have limited backup backpacks & shoes!!!

Does Hope open the door?

NopeNopeNope. One fae teleportation is enough for today. Maybe Phoenix knows more; Hope will find her.

Easy to do! Just head a few steps back and then head through the kitchen, towards her voice.

Phoenix is still talking to the kids, currently the teen with the black and green eyes and the teen with the vacant look.

"...brought him home from Arkham." The black and green eyed teen says. "Dad said he was trapped by an Unseelie. But, you're doing better now, huh Simon? See he scents a little bit at his name, which is more than he was doing at first."

Hope has located Phoenix. What's her next move in her current quest to figure out what's going on here and where the hell Saint wandered off to in this labyrinth of a house?

If Hope can talk to Phoenix without the kids listening in: "Were you aware that Saint runs a fae orphanage? At least one kid wants to leave, and supposedly one kid here has been 17 for years."

Hope taps Phoenix on the arm. “Can I talk to you?” She asks.

“I see. I’m glad you are able to help him, Theo. Excuse me a moment.” Phoenix exits her conversation to step outside with Hope.

The house sits in a clearing surrounded by sports fields and playgrounds and then circled by a bright forest. A river traces one side of the clearing, and a network of paths extends from the front door to split into multiple trails leading through the woods. There are some children in the distance, but no little eavesdroppers on the front porch.

“Yes.” Phoenix nods. “More than just fae live here, though. Most of the children were rescued by Saint or his people. I and Mr. Hamming work on trying to find homes for the children we can, but… we can’t always find better alternatives. Why do you ask?” Her expression is curious, open to conversation, not defensive or accusatory.

"I meant more that it is an orphanage run in the land of the fae, with, apparently, teleportation and time dilation involved. I ask because one of them just asked me to adopt them, having met me two minutes ago, saying that one of the kids has been 17 for years, and that another had their hand bitten off - although it was reattached. I'm not sure there is a better solution, but it is, uh, concerning."

“There shouldn’t be time dilation…” Phoenix frowns.

"In addition to one of the kids saying it, there's also a clock in the classroom that is running very quickly. I didn't confirm it's really time dilating, but it seems like it."

"It would seem especially contrary to the purpose of an orphanage to prevent their inhabitants from growing up, if indeed that is happening."

“Then something is wrong. The children should be growing. Oh! 17, you said? Is it Theo? Theo doesn’t age. He is in some ways older than Saint. But the clock running fast is not good. Probably worth checking if that’s intentional.”She steps inside to ask. “Theo, is the clock in the schoolroom supposed to be moving fast?”

“No? It should show the time for the bus stop. Uh oh. We need to wake up Dad.” The teen knocks on the nearest closed door. “Dad, Dad, Dad?” But there’s no response.

"Who is your dad? What does it mean if the clock is spinning fast?"

"Saint is." Theo looks at Hope quizzically. "The clock is synced with the bus stop. It moving fast means that time in here is moving slow." He knocks on the door again. "Dad! You're breaking physics! Wake up!" Theo opens the door. It opens into a supply closet. Theo sighs. "He's sleeping too deep. We need to go the long way."

Hope, what would you like to do?

"What's the long way?"

"Find his room and wake him up there. It's... going to be in the basement I think." Theo jogs down the hall to the stairway and carefully but quickly descends.

Simon drifts after.

"No Simon. Stay in the living room." Theo calls back.

Phoenix takes the vacant boy's elbow and leads him away from the stairs back to the living room.

Does Hope stay or follow Theo?

Hope will follow!

Theo leads Hope towards a different landing and follows the signs for the Emergency Exits, finally reaching a labelled doorway and heading down the spiraling stairs that descend from that doorway.

The stairs go deep, deep, deep, into the heart of Saintsholm. She can see several landings, each with different doors, each with bells that hang above them. If she looks behind her, she can see the spiraling stairs splitting apart like veins and arteries. There are far more distinct spiraling paths back up than the one she followed to get here.

Does Hope continue on, pause to investigate, or do anything else?

Hope will continue to follow Theo; there is no time to waste if time dilation is happening. "What are the bells for?"

"Calls." Theo continues running.

The stairs end in an open doorway to a large room carved out of black marble stone that holds a shrine of broken doors, some leading to brick walls, some with boards hammered over them to keep them shut, some with an odd, eerie feeling of finality and a certainty they'll never open again despite them looking like any door she's seen before in this winding sprawl of a house. There are doors that drip with blood and doors whose surface is carved deep from the other side with claws. It's not hard to understand what these are.

They're failures.

They're a monument to the people who were dead before you knew a monster was hunting in the woods, the person you were just a breath too slow to save, the ones who were in too deep and didn't tell anyone about the monster outside the door. The guardians who grew too slow to keep going, who finally fell at the hands of the things they sought to protect the world from.

There's another door, small and nondescript, like something out of any modern house in the wall opposite the shrine.

The pale teen knocks twice then opens the door. "Dad?! Wake up! Time is slipping!"

Hope, roll notice if you're heading in on Theo's heels

Rolled: [5, 5]+1 Result: Success! 🎯

Despite being seemingly buried underground, Saint's room is in line with the aesthetic of the house's public-facing areas, like a cozy rustic cabin with exposed wood. A stack of quilts is visible in a nearby armoire alongside a large, locked, gunsafe with a football shoved on top, the armoire left half-open and his damaged coat hanging on the door. His boots are on the floor next to it and look pristine.

He's dead asleep, mortal in appearance again with a clean white t-shirt on, and burrowed under a quilt. Hope can see the patches on his arm where his acid-eaten flesh has rapidly healed over in the time since he left the guest-facing living room, fresh sections of pink scar tissue standing out on brown skin, pulling it taut around muscle and bone. She can also see more of the sizable scar on his neck and shoulder where something or someone clearly tried to rip out his throat and seems to have gotten very, very close to succeeding.

It could be an image from many time periods, up until Hope notices the tangle of very modern charging cords and the neon green numbers of the alarm clock half-hidden under a book whose numbers are rapidly running forward, and a laptop cord vanishing into a drawer of the heavy wooden nightstand next to the bed.

"Saint, wake up! " Hope yells, while taking cover behind the doorframe.

Saint jerks awake and the alarm clock's numbers stop ticking the moment his eyes snap open.

He blinks rapidly, reorienting and pushing himself up, grey eyes filling in with black as he realizes what's been happening while he's slept.

"Oh. Shit." He sounds devastated. "The kids are going to be so upset."

He flickers, and then he's out of bed and grabbing his boots with no visible movement between, in ripped and faded blue jeans that look like they've seen better days and a white t-shirt. "It's Monday. It's Monday and they had homework-"

His gaze swings to Hope and Theo as he grabs his damaged coat and pulls it on. "Thank You. I owe you one. I'm sorry, that wasn't supposed to happen."

~

Upstairs, the door to Luck-Spinner's bondway throws itself open as Vesper and Luck-Spinner come through - bearing dessert that Luck-Spinner swiftly offloads on the nearest child before moving towards the nearest doorway - only to be halted by Saint appearing in the room next to Phoenix.

"I'm am so sorry, Jean," he says, looking at Phoenix with wide eyes. "I didn't mean to do that."

Luck-Spinner reorients and jabs him in the chest with one finger. "Turn the fucking phone reception on!"

Everyone's phones start going off as messages from the outside finally begin to come through,

“Miss Hope noticed it first.” Theo says. “… Are you going back out immediately?”

Saint hesitates. "I ... don't know. Maybe? I can probably make time stop here if everyone still needs to rest and eat and catch their breath... and finish their homework for tomorrow," he grimaces. "How long was I asleep from your perspective?"

Saint is looking at both Theo and Hope as he asks how long he was asleep.

"30 to 60 minutes?"

"...if I need to go out I'll be back as soon as possible, Theo," he runs a hand down his face. "...uhm. It looks like Vesper and Luck-Spinner are back upstairs. Vesper seems... fine? I think."

He gestures for the others to come all the way into the room. "...if you come inside I can get you both back upstairs. Have you eaten anything? Do you need anything? How can I help?"

"Better than fine," I say. Weaver had me a bit worried with the time thing, but it seems like only a few hours or days have passed. No big deal. I hold up the container of dessert Weaver gave me. "We brought food, though it seems like it might be best to re-establish contact with Earth before anyone wonders where we are."

Saint's expression goes flustered. "... oops. I... only meant to say that to Hope and Theo. I... that's probably a very good idea. It... might not be a big deal for adults, but I'm going to have to call the school some of my kids go to and excuse them for the day, they've missed half of their Monday classes already. Uhm" He heads for one of the doors on the wall, opening it up and standing behind the door as -

Downstairs, Saint looks abruptly flustered and chooses to reunite the groups just a little faster, closing the doors to the armoire and opening them back up to reveal the living room with Vesper, Luck-Spinner, and Phoenix. He holds the door open, standing just out of sight of those in the living room.

Theo walks through the armoire in Saints basement bedroom to the living room. Leaving Hope alone with Saint for a moment.

Hope, do you take this moment to talk with Saint, go through the armoire into the living room, or do something else?

"Will I ever get used to this shit?" Hope mumbles as she walks through the armoire, seeing Saint on the other side also. "So how come you can bend time by accident?"

"...uhm. Because..." Saint hesitates.

Luck-Spinner rolls his eyes. "Because you're standing inside his body, metaphorically speaking. He sets the rules. Even if he doesn't realize he tripped the fast forward button."

Saint stays inside his room, closing the armoire behind Hope, leaving Hope, Vesper, Phoenix, Theo, Simon, Luck-Spinner, and the other Saint in the living room with any of the younger kids who were already in there.

Luck-Spinner’s cellphone begins to ring, loud and insistent.

He flips it into his hand, squinting at the name in confusion. “.... oh, great, someone really kicked the beehive, if he’s calling me the moment my phone works...”

Luck-Spinner brings the phone up and hits the speaker button. “Well hello, Mr. Bookseller, if you’re calling me there must really be a problem, you’re on speaker, what’s on fire?”

“Hello…” A pause of calculation. “Lord Luck-Spinner. The Dyer Lot, any minute now, probably, if it isn’t already,” Sawyer Morgan’s voice comes through the speaker, a little warped and tinny.

“Wait. What. Who the hell is setting the Dyer Lot on fire, does my Bestie know, and why are you letting them do that?” Luck-Spinner balks.

“Alric Jorgensen, formerly of the Dawn Commission Field Team as of about one hour ago, I assume Aspen is aware, considering she’s still there, and I don’t know what you think I could do to stop him without making things worse.”

“Teleport him into a pond." Luck-Spinner deadpans.

“Are you asking me to do that as a favor, Lord Luck-Spinner?”

Luck-Spinner pouts, nails tapping the edges of his painted phone case. “.... no.”

“Then no, I don’t think I’m going to teleport him into a pond without significant incentive, especially with the payoff of our last agreement still pending on your end.”

“Not even if I sweeten the deal by telling you Alric Jorgensen’s the one who broke the threshold?” Luck-Spinner wheedles, voice sugar-sweet.

“...oh.” Sawyer’s voice cracks. “Shit.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I need to make another phone call.”

Luck-Spinner’s expression goes flat and serious, voice sharp. “No warnings, Mr. Morgan. Stay on the line.”

“Mr. Jorgensen is not out of the Dawn Commission until he tells me personally, Lord Luck-Spinner.” Phoenix says. “He is still under my protection.”

"Spoilsport," Luck-Spinner sing-songs. "That doesn't mean you can take on all of his debt, Jean. He's your employee, not your vassal. Just like Hope, Inara, and Vesper, he must remain somewhat accountable for his actions."

He arches a brow. "It's better that he learns that lesson from one of your allies than from someone who hates you."

"Sorry, excuse my cutting in," Sawyer pipes up. "Who the fuck is Vesper?"

"My new Pontiff!" Luck-Spinner chirps. "She's Alric's friend. Which is good news for Alric."

"Hi Sawyer," I chime in before I can stop myself.

".... Inara," Sawyer says, slow and careful. "Hello."

He doesn't sound surprised to hear your voice, but it's also pretty obvious that he doesn't have the clues needed to do the secret math.

I can't quite keep myself from giggling. "Nope, not Inara. I'm Vesper. Inara's secret alter that she never tells anyone about because it might make her look bad. Luck-Spinner helped me get the upper hand on her, otherwise she doesn't usually let me front." My grin widens. "Things are going to be very different from now on. Anyway, what's wrong with Alric burning the shoggoth nest? As someone who nearly died in there, I think that sounds like a great plan. Torch those tentacly bastards."

There's a long, long silence from the other end of the phone as Luck-Spinner gives a quiet little cackle of laughter and Saint looks distinctly uncomfortable at the implications, his gaze swivelling towards Phoenix.

".....r...ight. Putting a pin in that one," he says slowly, before swiftly picking up steam. "Setting the lot on fire? Nothing. Especially since the fire department is keeping an eye on things to make sure the fire won't take out the neighbors."

Luck-Spinner rolls his eyes.

Sawyer keeps talking. "However, considering the fact that, unless someone else can actually manage to deal with the buried shoggoths from the outside in, with all the space-warping size-distortion bullshit that entails, someone is going to have to go in and rip out the chandeliers to make sure the hive is completely dealt with? He's one man with minimal experience and his current support team is my daughter and her girlfriend, possibly with some support from Aspen. I don't really want to test his odds of surviving inside the hive because I would rather not have him die. Even with Aspen whittling the numbers down over the last two days there's no world where I'd put his odds of survival if he goes inside the hive as higher than Phoenix and Saint, on which note - what the hell happened?"

Saint hesitates. "...the shoggoths pulled a voltron?"

. "...are you telling me you and Phoenix weren't actually enough firepower, with backup, to deal with that?" Sawyer sounds incredulous. "You at least got inside the actual hive, right?"

".... no," Saint crosses his arms, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "We were in the basement. I think they were coming out to defend their nest in force? It's... possible that Aspen might have their numbers down enough to minimize the threat."

"... okay. So. Are you coming back to finish the job, do you need additional incentive, or am I actually free to rip the band-aid off and call in outside help?"

"We're coming back," I say. "At least, I think so. There were some time travel issues."

“We intend to take another go at the nest, yes.” Phoenix confirms.

"Cool," Sawyer says, some of the tension audibly leaving his voice. "That's good to know, and... yeah, I have been made very aware of the time problem, I've had a spell set up to dial as soon as it could connect to ..." a pause. "Huh. Yeah. Okay. To your patron's phone number. I would be passing on the good news to the DC right now but someone's keeping me on the line-"

"It's almost like Phoenix has her own phone and can text her own organization, I'm not letting you get unpinned that easy," Luck-Spinner taunts, smiling with all his teeth, tone more playful than aggressive. Keeping Sawyer on the line is still a game and not a threat.

"I figured," Sawyer sighs. "Do you need me to try and get someone outside to call Saint or any favors you want to ask from Bright Books?"

The sidhe chuckles, waving one hand and shrugging. "... I'll let you know if we need someone to call on Saint to get out. I'm going to see what's going on with my Bestie and see if we can make a simpler exit, considering she'll still be at the lot unless everything there's deader than disco. Maybe someone can even talk this hunk of marble into putting a protection spell on himself before we get out."

"According to wikipedia, disco's actually had some popular resurgences over the last few decades, Luck-Spinner," Sawyer's grin is audible over the phone.

"Deader, Morgan," Luck-Spinner snorts. "Are your kid and her girlfriend competent?"

"If I didn't think they could survive topside in the lot I wouldn't have asked them to investigate, Luck-Spinner."

Phoenix is indeed already catching up with Astraeus by text. She wants to hear Luck-Spinner’s conversation with Sawyer though, which is why she hasn’t called HQ yet. “I am catching up with Mr. Knox now. I’ll get in contact with Ms. Black and Mr. Jorgensen shortly.” She tells Sawyer.

"Thank you for letting me know, ma'am," Sawyer says. "Ms. Black is here with me, along with the two university students who assisted in dealing with the weird."

Saint glances at Luck-Spinner and raises an eyebrow. Luck-Spinner cocks his head and shrugs. Acceptable. "But you're on speaker and we aren't."

"Mh-hm." Sawyer confirms.

Sawyer clears his throat. "Anyway. Do the rest of you need anything from this end, or are you good?"

"I think we're good."

"Right," Sawyer says slowly, the sound of his nails tapping on a table audible in the background. "So."

"Saint, I need your phone," Luck-Spinner grins toothily.

"... you don't need my phone, you're holding your phone," Saint sighs.

"I am, but I need to make another phone call," he grins. "So..."

Saint crosses his arms and shrugs, raising a brow at the shorter Sidhe. "So hang up. Jean's going to text Alric if she hasn't already."

"Jean," Luck-Spinner complains, ending his call and scrolling through his contacts. "Why are both of you so boring, do neither of you believe in having fun anymore?"

"I have fun. You just don't like hunting." Saint smiles, showing his own sharpened teeth. "Or football. Soccer. Baseball.."

"Oh, go coach your stupid little league team after you finish cleaning up the mess that nearly killed your friend," Luck-Spinner scoffs, hitting the call button and chirping. "Hey, Bestie! Guess who forgot not to hit the fastforward button on the weekend? I'll give you a hint: not me."

The children have, so far, been kept lured away from Luck-Spinner by Saint and the desserts that Vesper and Luck-Spinner brought with them. He weaves and dodges through them as he slips from the room, voice dropping to a hush as he continues his phone call.

Phoenix just gives Luck-Spinner a guileless pleasant smile in response to his complaints at her.

Once Luck-Spinner leaves, Phoenix turns to Vesper. “Ms. Vesper… Sellain?” She asks. “This is an unusual situation, although it does explain some things. I would like to get a better understanding of what is going on between you and Inara. Would you like to join the Dawn Commission? I’m sure we can arrange some accommodation for you both. More immediately though, are you willing to assist in attacking the shoggoth nest?”

"Vesper Sellain, yep that's me. I'd love to join the Dawn Commission — in fact, I thought I already had? And I'm willing to help out but I barely know any magic. I can't heal people, or shoot sunlight lasers from my hands, or protect people from being grabbed." Not that Inara ever bothered to cast a protective spell on anyone except herself. "But it sounds like things might not be quite so intense as last time, so maybe that won't be a problem?"

I wonder what kind of threads shoggoths have?

“Inara’s name is on all the paperwork. I’d rather have a fresh agreement with you than assume Inara’s contracts bind you too.” Phoenix says. “We have other positions available besides the field agent role if you don’t want the action that comes with it, or we can get you training if you want to raise your skills to the challenge.”

A chance to learn magic from an actual person instead of a book in the sanctum? "That sounds wonderful." And, now that I'm really thinking about it, the idea of being a field agent doesn't seem quite so scary, so long as it's not Inara's reckless rush-in-and-hope-for-the-best style. "Besides, if things get sticky I'm sure Inara will be more than happy to take over."

Isn't that right? I ask her. But she's still dormant, and there's no response.

"Let's save the paperwork for after the shoggoths, though?" I shift restlessly from one foot to the other. "Sawyer made it sound like the situation was pretty urgent."

“Of course. I don’t have it with me anyway.” She smiles and waves the concern away.

Saint has been speaking quietly with Theo while Luck-Spinner is out of the room and Phoenix talks to Vesper, but now he checks back in with Phoenix and the team.

"... speaking of the shoggoths... Phoenix, you want Hunter, not Guardian, for this next run, right? How loud do you need me to go?" He looks to the team, then back to Phoenix again. "Is there anything else going on that's going to need attention from your team today?"

Luck-Spinner sweeps back in before their conversation can continue, pocketing his phone. "I've got an exit arranged. Saint, I need you to open the bondway to Lady Watercolour Map's demense, she'll have her favorite Pontiff escort us through to the mortal realm. You can all talk through things on the way, chop chop, let's get this show on the road-"

He pauses, looking at Vesper, and reaches over to pull on an unseen thread, tugging it taut. "There. Good as new. No reason for you to start your first day with injuries Inara got you, now, is there?"

Vesper's final wound is healed

Luck-Spinner skitters to a door and looks to Saint, who strides over to open it and looks at the team. ".... stay to me once we go inside. You don't want to lose sight of me and get lost in the bondway."

I follow Luck-Spinner through the doorway and stick close to him as we walk. "Thanks for the healing."

Luck-Spinner grins, eyes glittering, lightly bumping her with his shoulder. "I want you feeling your best when you meet your friend again. Don't you?"

Passing through Saint's door into the bondway is stable, solid. There's a faint feeling of being grounded down to earth in a... good way. Like a long talk with a good friend after a hard night.

The path is lined with trees, a healthy, thick forest and a clear, blooming sunset in the sky.

The door the group walks through is embedded in a standing stone of black and red marble.

As the group walks down the path, the solid surroundings become less so. By the next standing stone, the wild forest seems much less natural: the trees vary with some pattern, the rhyme and reason of which seems elusive but just on the top of your tongue. The occasional boulder seems to be made of bronze, or is too regular to be naturally worn.

As the path goes on, the evening light bends and blends into the trees. A stand of bamboo could be mistaken for a collection of spears, or vice versa. Monoliths of chalk stand in circular pools with concentric rings of white residue.

Two standing stones later, the group passes a massive tree spun from wire with jeweled and bladed leaves.

By the end, the path has twisted through trees and borne the group up to the autumnal canopy. A final standing stone is here on the tree tops; a massive monolith of white ceramic with a thick translucent crackle glaze stained with ink.

A black Labrador in a leather service dog vest sits (almost) patiently by the monolith, ears perked and tail wagging as the group approaches.

I pet the dog. Of course I pet the dog. Who wouldn't?

The dog takes it as an invitation to jump up and give doggy kisses!

Licorice is engraved in the leather strap of his harness.

Also attached to his harness is a leash, the end of which he offers to the bipeds after he is done getting pets.

I giggle and awkwardly fend off Licorice as he slobbers all over my face. I take the leash when he offers it, glancing at the others and shrugging.

Licorice makes the rounds to each of the people to greet with a nose boop and get scritches. He nudges everyones hands toward the leash, bothering each until they hold onto the leash too.

Luck-Spinner offers the dog a quick scratch behind the ears and adds his hand to the number holding the leash.

Saint is much more effusive about greeting the good boy pontiff, including informing Licorice that he is, in fact, a very good boy and thanking him for meeting them and being their guide before taking hold of the lead as well.

Thankfully the leash is decently long.

Phoenix politely offers her hand to sniff and takes hold of the leash. She is not enthusiastically a dog person.

Does Hope like dogs? How does she react to this very energetic slobbery presumably-magical good boy?

Hope is very much a dog person! Even when they are fey dogs! Hope has only regretted trying to pet a dog one time and that was because it wasn't a dog!

Licorice is very much a people dog! And is excited to meet New Friends!

Once everyone has taken hold of the leash, Licorice barks once and runs headlong at the standing stone, dragging everyone along after him!

In a blink that leaves an echo of defiant playfulness and sharp anticipation, the group find themselves standing on a new path in a new forest, under a sky with an even more brilliant sunset. Shimmering birds--or was that a pseudodragon?--flit between the trees, singing songs that blend between natural birdsong and synth samples.

Guide's dog pulls the people along behind him, trotting down the path and then vertically up a cliff. This path is a mosaic, with cobblestones formed of random objects. Plastic toys, painted rocks, and gemstones are as equally likely to appear in the streams of color forming the path as any other object. Looking back up, the frame has changed again, and the path travels down an arcade of archways; some archways filled with canvases covered in paint thick or thin, others are doorways leading to other paths, the area behind each disjoint from its neighbors.

Licorice takes the party down one of these archways into a very strange space. A large cubic room the size of a city block, walls and ceiling stark white, lit with an ambient sterile glow. The ground is covered in simple sandy gravel except for the concentric rings of lush vegetation matching a certain overgrown abandoned lot.

"Whoa, cool," I say. "Is there a room like this for everywhere? Or just important places? How do we get through to the real version?" I pause. "What happens if the real place changes, say, by being burned down? Would the room be affected too?"

"No, not for everywhere," Luck-Spinner smiles. "This is just a studio. A gallery. Where she's currently working. Wedon't do anything to get through - we just take our spots on stage and allow the director to work her magic."

Luck-Spinner leads them to stand on the thin line of vegetation that cuts through the concentric circles. "Step onto this path, then wait until our cue. Don't worry so much about what would happen if the area was set on fire - this is hers right now. She won't let it burn until she's ready to let it go."

Saint follows, human face firmly in place as he steps into the grassy pathway, drawing Luck-Spinner's attention to the state of his coat. He looks, briefly, like an offended cat, then pulls out a needle and starts applying quick stitches to the coat, making several quick repairs before pretending he did nothing of the sort.

The party stands on the path. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, in a blink, the world inverts.

</scene> Continued in 2.9: A Dyer Reunion