Event Log: January, Return to Dorchacht

[faileas]

Event Log: January, Return to Dorchacht

I. A Tarnished Reality The teleporter to Dorchacht becomes operational by the 4th and the ambassadors return to their city with the first open, ceremonial operation of the device - along with any Mirrorbound who wish to join them, and Theodore Rosethorne and Sowilo, who make the trip as representatives of the Coven to ensure that all is well. Those who missed the first teleportation, never fear! Now that both waypoints are functional, Mirrorbound and others may travel freely between Aefenglom and Dorchacht at any point they choose to. Notably absent from the group, though - most of the Dorchacht refugees originally smuggled into Aefenglom. Only three or four are going back with the ambassadors, and they're primarily Witches. The rest have chosen to stay. Upon return to Dorchacht, it's obvious that some major changes have been made with the new regime. The sky is overcast, but it's merely fault of the weather at this time of year - the oppressive fog that used to hang over the Black City is gone, along with its effects on the natural lunar cycle. The auction blocks, damaged in the fires of the event the locals now call "The Rising", have been fully torn down, not a trace of them left to sully the streets. Where the triple stars of the Resistance used to be worn in secret, a majority of citizens now bear them openly (and in many cases, proudly) on pins and on clothing. In fact, any Witches who do not display the triple stars on their person somewhere, are generally regarded with suspicion, disgust, or fear unless they're recognized as Mirrorbound Witches - careful not to be mistaken for a Drummond sympathizer. The Monster citizens won't be outwardly cruel to any Witches, but will be somewhat fearful, hurrying their children along or crossing the street to get away. Recognizable Mirrorbound, those who were there during The Rising and before, are treated a bit like celebrities on the streets, though any Mirrorbound are given a warm welcome, albeit a little less warm for Witches. Storytellers share tales of how diplomats treating one another, Witches and Monsters alike, as equals so publicly and openly within Dorchacht gave them hope that such a life is attainable, or how a band of Mirrorbound snuck into the city under the cover of darkness and helped give their Resistance a leg up in the good fight against Drummond's extremists. Others share stories of being rescued from burning buildings or cruel Witches during The Rising by brave heroes. Many of these tales are shared in the form of song, as homage to those Mirrorbound who brought hopeful music to Dorchacht through the radio, which is still operational and playing a selection of music with a little more variety. Still a bit soft, their speakers and songs are, but as time passes, they grow a little more experimental, branching out from the lullabies that used to be played. Overall, the Black City is much less black these days, a little greener and brighter from the plants left by Mirrorbound before. Where the old Dorchacht could take your breath away with its feeling of barred oppression, many of those barricaded windows have been opened, reinforcements on the doors broken down. Though things are never perfect after a revolution, and it's clear that the work continues. Armed Resistance guards patrol the streets in trios, normally two Monsters and a Witch, to keep the peace. Their first priority is the protection of Monsters, many of whom still seem anxious and scared as they go about their days - not of the guards themselves, who they often greet with smiles, but of the Witches and humans they pass on the streets. In some cases, keeping the peace means breaking up fights between their own and those humans and Witches who do not want to accept Monsters as their equals, and in some cases it means putting Drummond sympathizers in their places with intimidation and force. While they do their best to keep skirmishes out of Mirrorbound sight, it's clear that despite the improvements, Dorchacht is still no utopia, and the road to a true peace is fraught with speedbumps. As noted, characters are free to travel between Aefenglom and Dorchacht by teleporter as often as they'd like! The waypoints will remain open even after this month and travel will be unrestricted; we will note if this situation changes in the future. Dorchacht quests are also now available ICly!

II. A Few Alterations a. The Coven Major changes are still underway. One of the biggest that Mirrorbound will notice is that the new administration of Dorchacht have moved the Coven. The old building is in a state of disrepair right now, doors and windows wide open, the interior stripped of trappings. The library has shed its books to somewhere else. The basement where so many horrors took place is abandoned. Instead, a sign has been erected outside it, stating that this center of Drummond's operations will be turned into a museum to remember their unpleasant history, and to memorialize those who lost their lives fighting for freedom. It's still a work in progress, and not high on the priority list when survival and care of the citizens have to take precedence, but inside, characters may still find small shrines set up in various places to Resistance members who died there. Instead, Dorchacht's new Coven is currently based inside an old manor located just a handful of blocks from the town square, and it's a much more informal affair. Magic lessons have continued with Resistance Witches, though the subject matter has changed instead. They experiment with different types of magic based on their own interests, but many are studying plant magic, medicine, and defensive spells that can be used out in the Wilde. Anything that will prove to be practical going forward. Lessons are also open to Monsters now, so they can see what their magical brethren are learning (and know that the compulsion and control spells that Morgana loved so much are no longer being taught). With the Coven being moved, visitors from Aefenglom are offered places to stay either within the manor of the new Coven, or in various empty houses around the city. Stay as long as you'd like, they say, and apologize that the accommodations aren't nicer - reconstruction is still obviously ongoing all over the city, repairing damages from The Rising and the fighting that happened afterward. They don't really have anywhere as nice as the rooms their ambassadors were given in Aefenglom. b. The Walls One of the biggest on-going projects in Dorchacht right now is removing the Monster control spells from the set of enchantments on their city walls. High on the list of priorities is making sure that Monsters can feel safe again, secure in their own minds and bodies. As the spells are made visible, particular sets of runes have to be ground down and smoothed over. A spell is either cast or provided to soften the stone temporarily, and then it's basically going at it with magitech-powered sanders created by Hilda. The particular runes that need to be gotten rid of will be provided on reference sheets - please don't touch the others, they chide! Those are to protect from the Cwyld, and are still very important. While help is welcomed with open arms and enthusiasm at most sections of the walls, those guards posted at one particular small district, guarded with trios of Resistance members at each entrance and warded with alarm magic to warn of escape, turn Mirrorbound away; these runes are being altered, not removed, to help contain unruly Drummond loyalists, they say. The people who now live in that guarded district are all human, whether they're Witches or no, and all refuse to bear the triple stars. "Troublemakers," the guards will explain grimly. "We have to contain them for now. It isn't a perfect solution, but they've hurt people, or tried to hurt people, since Drummond was run out of town." c. Bond Lessons Bonding is a bit of a tricky subject in the new Dorchacht. Many Monsters are afraid of the idea, as it was once used as one of the collars around their necks, but the Circle of Three recognize it as an important way to wean citizens off the lullabies and calming draughts that prevent going feral during full moons. As part of encouraging others to form Bonds, partnerships at the very least the way most Resistance members describe theirs, there are demonstrations and public seminars that pop up around Dorchacht on the regular. They may be as informal as a circle in what's going to be a park or as official-seeming as a talk held inside a shop or lecture hall, but they have one thing in common. Many of the citizens are keen on getting Mirrorbound in on it -- mostly by dragging them in, asking if they have a Bonded, and if they do, they tell the Mirrorbound to talk about their Bonded. They're interested in the ups and downs (but mostly ups) of having one in order to show that if the Mirrorbound are into it, you should be too! They accept all stories but prefer the happy ones - the aim is to encourage their Monster citizens and help them be less afraid of taking that step with Witches. And for those who aren't in a Bond, or decline to talk -- well, they get what amounts to a "flour sack baby" in the form of a Dorchacht citizen of the opposite role of their own (a Monster would receive a human/Witch, a Witch would receive a Monster) that they must hang with for a day, ensuring no harm comes to them, bound by one of the temporary Bonding potions so popular in the Wilders' ranks. (As a note, for the second option, you have free reign of the NPC; do the personalities you find fun, be they cooperative or mischievous, shy or loud, abrasive to your character or someone they can genuinely get along with. They are all willing - no one is being forced into this. No Fae or Dragons allowed for Monster NPCs, unfortunately, as they are still very much not about.)

III. Ahoy Mateys! With Dorchacht opening up again after the last few months of closed off internal fighting, plenty of trading ships' Captains are ready and raring to go build business relations with the new regime and find a new market for some of their wares. There has been increased interest in finding a shorter route to Dorchacht by sea - the teleporter is useful for small groups of people, sure, but it can't handle much cargo. The only problem? Ships are being turned back, barely halfway there, with significant damage to their hulls. Brave individuals looking for a seafaring adventure are asked to come aboard and help the crew navigate tumultuous waters, hopefully figuring out along the way what's causing the damage to previous ships. It's a three day trip to Dorchacht if the waters are kind, and characters can simply teleport back home once there. On board the various ships brave enough to return to the sea, Mirrorbound find the problem halfway through the trip: a colossal squid that's made it home at this point, thrashing ships that come too close to its den. While uninfected, it does have injuries on its body, which may be the source of its lashing out. The ships are able to bring themselves close enough for longer ranged attacks, and the Harpy on board are careful not to be captured by the churning waves caused by the thrashing, but there's others who want to seek a less violent mean to end this surf and turf conflict. Killing, healing, subduing, or relocating it are all valid options, but getting in close to do any of those will be difficult, as it has a tendency to ink up the waters around it and reduce visibility to nothing. Be careful of any creatures swimming around that are interested in the weakened squid as well, such as various carnivorous fish, sea-plants, and things that appear alike to Merrow, but rely only on instinct. The Merrow cannot be spoken to, nor are they infected; the Captains of the ships will explain that they're "wild", and refer to them as distant cousins to the Merrow that sparsely populate Aefenglom itself.

IV. Back At Home Back in Aefenglom, the stir caused by the Circle of Three's arrival takes time to calm. It's the talk of the town for days - many seem happy about Morgana Drummond's apparent demise. "Good for them," is the general sentiment in the residential areas more populated by Monsters and the Harbor District. They're glad to know that things are on the way up there. Others think this is a boon; should anything happen, now Aefenglom has an ally city to stand with them, one in their debt. Others still don't really care either way, and go about their lives as if nothing's happened. The refugees, in their neighborhoods on the far reaches of the Haven, seem happy to hear news from home and find The Dragon/Starlight/Fafnir freed, and while a few of them choose to return to Dorchacht, having never put down roots in Aefenglom, more still don't wish to leave the homes and families they've formed here, or the Mirrorbound who have helped them so much over the months. Some even doubt that things are as good as they say, and choose to remain for that reason - slavery and ill treatment from the upper class in Aefenglom instilled in them a sense of (well-earned) paranoia regarding the intentions of Witches, especially those back home. They hear that things have changed, but don't necessarily want to find out for themselves. Even still, the mood is upbeat, with a general consensus that if Morgana is really gone, that's at least a solid step in the right direction. In the Aristocratic District, though, the atmosphere is sour. The general sentiment is that they wish the refugees would have left with those ambassadors. The kinder ones think Aefenglom should focus on its own citizens - the people from the Outer City brought in to weather the blizzard have never left, after all, still living in the neighborhoods with the refugees. Those who are more vocally outspoken about the Mirrorbounds' presence in the city think they should have all left to Dorchacht. Let another city shoulder all the misfortune they bring with them! Many of the people grumbling about that are ones who were directly affected by the Mists back in October, either through temporary changes themselves or through being attacked by ferals. Some of the more hot-headed young people try to spread this message - through graffiti, on homes and businesses in the Haven and the refugees' district, though if caught, they're quick to run away and not willing to enter into a confrontation. The graffiti is wholly mundane and not particularly difficult to remove, just unpleasant, telling Mirrorbound and refugees alike to "go home" or "go back to Dorchacht", in so much colorful language. Seems there's still some work to do at home, as well.

Welcome to your establishing post for the current situation in Dorchacht! This log takes place through the entire month; characters can come and go as they please. As always, you can direct all your questions HERE. This month we're also putting up a City Tracker for PC actions, both in Aefenglom's plot later on and Dorchacht's log here. Let us know what your character is doing, good or bad! The cut-off for the tracker is February 3rd.

Comments

[hearthebell]

[It's a bullshit excuse. It's also sort of the only one L has to present, some makeshift popsicle stick sculpture held together with craft glue and only half-formed. But he only has his breath to waste, right now. The rest of his worldly possessions are locked up in the SQUIP's house, and every possible healthy coping mechanism available to him is locked up somewhere even less accessible.]

I'll use your shower. Lie down for a few hours. I'll be on my way, then.

[onamissile]

[And go where? If sleeping in the Coven's library is L's idea of 'a place to stay,' he's in for a rude awakening. Besides, this is Mello's opportunity to show L that he can behave responsibly and take the lead when need be. It's what he's always done, after all. Something about L throws that off — a child's memory forever etched into stone — but being in command is who Mello is, and he's not going to let his Bonded sleep on a fucking floor.]

If you say so.

[What's the point of arguing now? He goes about gathering his books, putting them back where they belong. There will be time for studies later, and maybe if L is feeling particularly grateful, he'll teach Mello a thing or two during his stay. Which will be longer than a shower and a nap, but they'll get to that later.]

You can have my key.

[And if that isn't a display of trust — ]

I'll grab something for breakfast; you go shower. Just leave the door unlocked.

[There's no danger; Mello's made sure of it.]

[hearthebell]

[By the time they get back to Mello's flat, it's going on nearly four-thirty. It's slower going, considering the detective's exhaustion, but he is quiet and compliant on the way back. Leadership is a position he often must occupy, but he's also mercurial, phasing and shifting to fit whatever container holds him. If Mello wants to take charge here, prove something, provide something? L isn't going to make things worse than they are.

He takes a long shower, as he'd warned. He leaves the door not only unlocked, but slightly ajar, and often the way the water falls suggests that he's sitting motionless under the stream, deep in thought, or perhaps sparing himself a moment to not think at all. When he's finished, he slips off to bed wrapped in two towels, leaving the clothes he wore for a week straight nudged in a crumpled heap behind the bathroom door, and rather than taking a mere nap, he falls into a dead slumber until the following morning, and sleeps for a full fifteen hours.

He wakes up clean and chilled. He looks for something to wear, finding a pair of loose jeans that fit alright in the waist but hit above the ankle on legs that are longer and lankier than Mello's and a t-shirt that is a little more fitted than what he usually goes in for. No matter; it's temporary. All of this is temporary; he has to keep reminding himself of that.

He briefly considers taking another shower before heading out toward the kitchenette area. He's slept; the next order of business is that breakfast Mello said he'd shop for nearly a whole day ago.]

[onamissile]

[Meanwhile, Mello is... in a bit of a State. At no point has he considered the possibility of L living with him, no matter the time-frame. Unlike L, he hasn't slept. No. He took his time procuring items for breakfast that he thought L would enjoy: some necessary, some indulgent. Next to a half-filled glass of sweet liquor (Mello's), there is a dish of freshly-baked blueberry muffins from a local bakery. Warm and moist, the scent only overwhelmed by the sweet hickory bacon Mello has fried and set to drain on a towel. L needs protein, and sweet is Mello's go-to, so. It is what it is.]

[Eggs aren't his strong point, but he does his best. All six of them are scrambled, currently cooking in a sweet cream that he's convinced himself would be better than milk. He's boiled a pot of strong coffee, made sure to have enough sugar and cream to supply a small army.]

[Really, he just wants L to be comfortable. Even if Mello is visibly uncomfortable. The alcohol helps with that.]

Hungry?

[Fuck, he hopes so. Mello's gone and dressed down: he's currently in a casual outfit of his own jeans and a t-shirt, socks sliding against the floor as he moves around, gathering plates and mugs for coffee. He can't look L in the eye. He won't. The pain his Bonded is feeling — might feel for a while — has left a stain on his protege that hopefully dissipates soon enough.]

[hearthebell]

[The words "natural" and "easy" are very strange, in that they mean very different things but are frequently confused for one another. For instance, being perceptive, flighty, and paranoid all come very naturally to L. It doesn't mean for a moment that maintaining it all is easy, and as Niles witnesses over the course of weeks, the process is a grinding and gradually taxing one that leeches and strains his quarry, until it leads both of them to this very spot where L has simply folded up and surrendered to what, in the end, is very natural, after all.

So is the way he stiffens when he wakes with that stinger in his face. The pounding of a heart that flutters as a result of imbalanced electrolytes, the difficulty of swallowing past a brutally dry throat, the way his bleary eyes sting in the harsh light of day but he can't look away.]

Took you long enough to make it to this point...

[As though it wasn't hell on him, too. He wants Niles to realize that he's only in a position to hurt him because L is such a virtuoso at hurting himself.]

Good job.

[hearthebell]

[L's eyes linger on the liquor; it is morning, but time is a confusing thing right now. Hours have been obliterated and folded into the tangle of sleep and waking, hazy realization and stark sobriety; where they begin and end is only informed by the position of the Sun, which does indicate that it is before noon.

No matter. No judgment; L's not exactly in a place to as he goes to pour himself a very full cup of coffee. Even standing is difficult, now; his vision spots and fades, and he places a hand on the counter for subtle support, makes sure that his knees aren't locked. Mello seems on-edge; it both makes sense, under the circumstances, and is profoundly annoying. It would make L feel better if he just moved on, but...

Well. It wouldn't actually fix anything, in the end.]

It looks good.

[And smells better. L does some of his best thinking when he's peckish, but never this much; it's at the point where the presence of warm and fragrant food isn't even distracting anymore, it demands obsessive and purposeful focus. Only L's most immovable shred of pride prevents him from digging into the muffins with his fingertips and stuffing his face.]

I'm, going to just...

[No good. He has to take a muffin and bite into it before they're even seated, and just like that, one bite has turned into four.]

[cyclopticsadist]

[Niles chuckles, but otherwise doesn't respond to L's feeble attempt at saving face. Instead he just opens the box, revealing two cinnamon rolls positively drenched in thick icing. He braces his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand.]

You look hungry. You should eat.

[This time it really IS safe to eat, because any amount of poison at this point, no matter how diluted, would probably kill Linden. Even with the Squip no longer in play, Niles isn't took keen on having that blonde maniac out for his blood either.]

3

[long_live_the_queen]

[Kaede was of two minds about returning here--fittingly. The dream was horrid. The city in her waking memories was...boring. She had severe doubts that the city was really as changed as those ambassadors--people whose job it was to upsell such things--made it seem to be, yet the free and open travel between the cities made more of an impression on her than mere words.

The decision to return with Maria was, by contrast, a very simple one. The presence of someone else in her mind had so far been very...favorable, in more ways than just fending off the Monstrous hunger. Maria's thoughts had been calm and disciplined--at times, it was difficult to tell where Kaede's mind ended and Maria's began. Sometimes she didn't need to say anything to draw the Witch's attention to something, which Kaede appreciated. Though there had been some sparks of irritation and annoyance, but more or less at the same things Kaede would have been aggravated by. People wandering off and needing retrieval like errant ducklings, people disregarding basic instructions.

This was something else. This was not calm. This was not quiet.

This was spun from memory that wasn't her own, a shambling, charging, screaming horror that cut into her mind with the pressure of a bursting dam. Kaede staggered, wobbling on her feet as if she was the one struck, raising her claws to fend off whatever it was--

Claws. She had claws. She was here, not in that beast's domain, not in a memory she didn't recall--and there was an enemy here. Something more manageable, and something attacking Maria.]

Mar--

[A shake of her head, a futile attempt to clear the echoing screams from her mind. Why wasn't the Witch getting up?]

Maria!

[The Chimera lunged--no time to draw her swords. She slammed into the creature's side, claws latching on like a lion securing itself to prey. Kaede had no illusions that her weight alone would wrench it free--but a clawed hand dug into the back of the creature's neck to yank it back. The coarse mane defied her claws, but Kaede was nothing if not driven by stubborn determination.]

'bonding'

[spaghettimonster]

[Whatever this skeletal turnskin's doing in this shop, he's distracted by the sudden entrance of a woman through the window. Not that he's in any way against window-based travel! But that's usually an egress thing, for him.]

Tell who??

[Having not yet chanced into one of the many bond workshops through the city, Papyrus is short on context. He slouches a little bit lower, his ears twisting to listen out, and softens his voice.]

Are you playing hide-and-seek...?

[integrous]

Asahi slowly is getting the idea that the other might not be so bold about it to just about anyone if she was sober. But alas, this is very obviously a drunk moment, and that's what makes Asahi hesitate. She doesn't want to totally dismiss the other and just quickly get away since Emerald does have a point, but she's not too sure if it's a good idea to follow plans made up by a drunk mind..

But she can at least listen, right? Then maybe she can talk again to this person some other day when Emerald is sober. "How do you think people would listen though?"

morning

[thisisamazing]

[Hiccup has always felt better with something to do. He's not used to quiet, or to staying still - with no more pressing construction projects around his home or the forge, he's happy to head to Dorchacht to see where he can lend a hand. Not all of the damage is fixed, he knows, but they've made a lot of progress since the last time he was here. Still, there's work to do. One of the caretakers in an orphanage that suffered some fire damage wants some tips on a new roof, and Hiccup spends a short while walking the building and area around with them; Toothless is unmistakable, playing with a few of the children outside. They seem enamored by a black dragon - "Like Starlight!" one can be heard crying out happily - and Toothless is a champ, putting up with them crawling all over him with only mild annoyance.

He has a roll with some half-charred original architectural designs (it helps to know what was done when it was built, to rebuild it sturdier) under his arm, heading out to check the state of the roof again, when he runs into Daenerys talking to another of the caretakers.

He doesn't interrupt, but he does wave to catch her eye, smiling, a stick of charcoal stuck behind his ear.]

cleaning up

[thisisamazing]

[Hiccup clicks off his sander when the person working near him says something, pushing a pair of amber-lensed goggles up onto his head, leather straps mussing his already-messy hair with the few little braids in it. He's been at this for a little while now, keeping his reference sheet attached to the wrist of his glove for ease of use.

The comment has him sliding his gaze over toward the cordoned-off area and the trio of guards posted at the entrance. It's... not an encouraging sight, but he seems a little hesitant to say so.] There's probably a lot going on here that we don't know about. It's been a few months since we were last here.

[hearthebell]

[Though the cover is on Niles' stinger, the point of the threat is a solid one. It takes him a few moments of tense waiting to come to the conclusion that making the point is likely where Niles is going to stop for now, and very slowly and carefully begins to edge away from it, an awkward process as it requires a lot of half-propped up shifting on his back and elbows to get out from under the table.

Once he's semi-upright, it's even easier to tell that he's somewhat worse for wear. The book he fell asleep on has left an imprint on his pale cheek, a clear if reversed passage on cat piss, and his hair is crushed on one side, absolutely wild on the other. His face is hungry, and there's a tremble in his limbs that comes not from fear, but from the fact that he's at his physical limit and everything takes effort. The hangover does not help matters, making him queasy, achey and dizzy all at once.

His eyes are still on the covered stinger, foremost... but they flick briefly to those cinnamon rolls. The idea of them actually doesn't make his stomach revolt; they look and smell appetizing. He feels his hunger more intensely than he has in days, even when his eyes return to the stinger and struggle to maintain focus.]

How thoughtful.

[But as much as his body and will threaten to balk in favor of sweet, buttery release, this isn't without agenda, and actively self-destructive or not, L is no fool.]

I'm meant to be thinking about poison at this juncture. That's the reason I woke up with a stinger in my face, I presume... and you're just here to see me vacillate in a state of agonizing indecision over whether I in fact "should" eat.

[With sluggish and anemic defiance, he bumps the stinger aside and reaches out to grab one of the cinnamon rolls. His typical delicate two-fingered grasp is abandoned in favor of using his entire fist, childlike and greedy, partly crushing the sides of the sticky roll.]

I don't care if it's pumped full of arsenic. I'm not giving you that satisfaction.

the streets

[scatmaam]

An added benefit of that perfume...

[ A familiar voice calls from behind, the source wearing a fur cape to stave away some of the cold her actual fur couldn't quite keep away, and a familiar red spear flung over her shoulder. She could actually carry it in public now, though it did bring some attention from those who remembered the stories of a blood red spear that brought justice against the slavers, but... She was ignoring it, for the most part.

Her eyes were focused on Emerald, her expression soft. ] It makes you very easy to find in a crowd. [ She said as she tapped the side of her nose. ]

b

[beariot]

You'd think they'd have more witches here with this kind of experience. [ Ursula sighed, bringing with her two cups of coffee, one for herself and the other for alucard, setting it to the side for the moment and making sure it was well clear of the paper. ]

But I guess that's how Morgana preferred it... Ignorance dispels rebellion, after all. No one with the knowledge to unmake her machinations.

Momiji Sohma | Fruits Basket | Puca

[selfishwish]

I. a. Tarnished Reality - Dorchacht

[Three days after the teleporter is announced open to the public, Momiji slips through carrying an overnight bag, without bothering to tell anyone.

He hadn't ever expected to see Dorchacht outside of the Dream. There was no reasonable reason for him to go in person--he hadn't been one of the people to help liberate it. And shouldn't the ambassadors' and the first visitors' word that everything was as improved as they said it was be enough for him to go on?

It wasn't, though. His sleep's been restless for over a month, now, but suddenly it's full of dreams of the auction blocks he'd nearly stood on and of cages hidden in tunnels underneath Aefenglom. And, well--it couldn't hurt just to go and see, if they were being invited!

He finds a (surprisingly plain, for him) cloak and hood that (somewhat) covers his ears and makes the rounds. Through the ruins of the old Coven first, he can be found poking and nosing his way along, looking for signs of old life or lurking, recalcitrant conspirators. But there's just dust mostly, along with rubble and graffiti here and there.

The new Coven is more interesting. He goes intending to poke around in every lurking corner, just in case--but almost immediately, there's a helpful witch smiling and asking his name, if he wants to sit in on any of the classes that are still wrapping up, though it is rather late. He doesn't have the heart to say no, so he twiddles his thumbs and kicks his feet in the back of one of the last sessions for the day. But, as soon as it's over, he decides to borrow the face of one of the novice mages he was sitting close to and take a stroll further into the manor. He'll just see if he can get down to the basement, and if there's anything suspicious that stands out--

Which is to say, there's an odd child who sometimes looks like his puca self and sometimes like a somewhat mousy, teenage human (depending on how hard he's concentrating) poking around in the oddest corners of the Coven.]

I. b. Alterations - Dorchacht

[When he heads back out onto the street for the night, he's unsure where he means to go. His nerves ought to be resolved now, but they're not. Even the brighter streets of the Black City still feel vaguely oppressive, once the sun sets, and he fidgets and looks over his shoulder, trying to decide whether to make back for "home" or to find quarters for the night.

He's still standing when someone plucks back his hood to peer down at him, and he blinks up in surprise at an older, white-furred puca with tired eyes and a distressed patch missing from one of her long ears.

"Are you lost, dear? The streets are safer than they were, but you shouldn't be out by yourself this late--"

This is how he ends up at an inn for the night, crammed in at a little booth full of puca, pressed between the one who'd found him and a gaggle of denmates. He's not even sure, far along as his transformation is, if they realize he's Mirrorbound. From the sound of it, impromptu dens of found friends, after the uprising, weren't that far from the norm.

But...it's nice. Cozy. He's almost unnaturally quiet (for himself, at least), holding the older puca's hand when she doesn't need it and politely accepting any food or drink that's offered. By the time the evening draws on--dinner gradually transitions into stories and drinks--he's curled up in his chair and against the puca's shoulder, drowsing. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing just to stay like this? For the night, if he's invited and offered a bed. Or--for a while, maybe.]

IV. Back at Home

[But he does, eventually, return to Aefenglom, and outside Kyo's apartment building he's greeted by glaring, red letters painted onto the front wall, "Mirrorbound GO HOME."

He is a little miffed, and there are enough similar scrawls on the day's stroll that he stays miffed. Then, in the evening, on his walk home from Particularly Good Finders, there's a pair of human teens spraying something on stone, just inside the Haven--

They don't even really pay any mind to the petite puca-boy giving them a dirty look from across the street, and beat a path out of the neighborhood as soon as their artwork's complete. Momiji, though, is not nearly as harmless as he looks! And they have put him in the mood...for vengeance.]

(a)

[Hence, a half-hour later, the peace officer standing outside a particularly ostentatious manor in the Aristocratic District, frowning behind an oversized, walrus mustache at a woman.

"Miss," says the officer in a deep, gruff voice, though with the oddest hint of constrained excitement in his words' cadence. "I'm--umm, chagrined! To have to report that your sons were witnessed defacing private property earlier today. I'm going to let them off with an official police warning today. But you should know that next time they'll be subject to serious consequences."

What follows is a good quarter hour of the lady of the house calling down the culprits and giving them an earful, along with assurances that they'll be disciplined for acting like ruffians, while the officer...tries very hard not to snicker behind his mustache?

When it's over, Momiji barely makes it around the corner of the manor before the glamour he's been struggling to hold onto drops, along with himself, as he seats himself on the sidewalk and dies laughing at the top of his lungs.]

(b)

[Of course, after one taste of delivering justice, it's hard to just give up such a noble calling. Sometimes, though, local vandals are old enough to have moved out on their own, or he's turned away at the door by the help. And then he simply has no choice but to engage in escalated tactics.

He creeps along in the dead of night, then, with a bucket of his own green paint and, once he's out of the Mirrorbound's neighborhood, another borrowed face, to the homes he's tailed the perpetrators to. Once the place settles for the night, he lights a lantern, gets close, and makes quick work of delivering payback on a stoop or a front-facing wall, with such cutting messages as:]

"GRAFFITI-ING PEOPLE'S STUFF IS MEAN!!" and "YOU SHOULD STOP BEING A BUTTHEAD!!"

[Occasionally, when he's done, he can't help but duck off down the street and admire his handiwork from afar, his cottontail eagerly twitching. He is the hero Aefenglom deserves.]

3

[scatmaam]

[ Help came from a familiar, masked woman dawning a fur cape that kept away the winter chill a bit better than her natural fur alone did, but even with all of that, her beasthood was clear enough... but Maria knew this woman, and for the moment, could trust her as an ally. Her blood red spear cut quite a color against the paleness around them, spinning for a strike that cut a deep line into the flank of the beast, Lancer finally landing in a roll once her attack was complete, moving near Maria, spear still ready. ]

They're not Cwyld. [ The shadowed Lancer spoke firmly. ] They still bleed...

[moustre]

Oooh. Very good, Papyrus, as much as they'd hate to admit it on this he has a point; they'll reluctantly agree to visiting hours open to the public so long as a trio of Resistance guards are present to keep things neat and tidy, before someone has the not so bright idea of helping them for whatever reason, be it familial or what.

Especially if Papyrus leads by example, there will be the more empathetic who join him in this; more Witches and normies than Monsters, but there are those who understand the pain of losing someone important and, though the imprisoned cannot be forgiven, there will only be a cycle should they let there be.

Henry | Witch

[morbide]

DORCHACHT;

A. THE (OLD) COVEN.

Hmm... Still no good. I thought a change in scenery would help jog my memory, but I'd have better luck trying to remember the old-fashioned way, at this rate.

[His ability to perform the Coven's style of divination isn't refined, and his spellwork makes that evident to any Witch skilled in the field. Henry sits on the ground, his cape pooling around him as he tries to perform magic in the decrepit basement of the Coven. Though some may be sensitive to the ghosts of this room and its recent history, Henry seems entirely unbothered.

Though he doesn't turn to face his new company, he acknowledges their presence:]

Divination was so much easier for me back home. This stuff doesn't make a lick of sense. Any tips for a seasoned-sorcerer-turned-mediocre-mage?

B. THE DORCHACHT WILDE.

[Leading his own small band of fresh Wilders, anxious to make a big first impression, Henry suddenly raises his arms on either side of his body, motioning for anyone nearby to halt in their tracks. When he speaks, his voice is a cheery singsong.]

I wouldn't take another step forward, if I were you! Unless you WANT to step right into some kind of illusory trap.

[With a sideways grin and a tilt of his head, Henry regards the gaggle of paling Dorchacht Wilders and his fellow Mirrorbound.]

Yeah. There's a pre-tty imposing source of magic up ahead. I sort of specialize in this kind of stuff, you know? Anyway, I'd hate to have to put any of you out of your misery so soon. Say, think you can give me one of your hairs?

[Henry does not drop his arms, but he turns toward you.]

AEFENGLOM;

C. MARKET.

Pssst. Hey!

[Lurking in an alley as a good dark mage should, Henry still stands out with his silvery hair. He beckons with a scoop of his hand.]

I really wanna get that lady some GENUINE publicity. Something that really sells old Orin's soap, I mean! So I whipped up a batch of my own soap and need someone to test 'em out. Will you?

[Sure enough, Henry's holding a tray of soaps. They are a brick red in color, and certainly not that Witch's soap. What could they be...? He offers them with an earnest smile.]

Pretty please, with an eyeball on top? Hee hee!

D. [CLOSED TO NILES.]

Aw, man. She's gonna have my head on a plate for that one... With brains for filling, and blood for garnish...

[So working for Karen's isn't going too well. Henry's not known for being a cook, and baking takes a different level of finesse. He was excited at the idea of getting to work around so many delectable sweets he's scarcely had the chance to see before, but Karen's severity and inflexibility isn't what he had in mind.

The budding necromancer bows away from his work station, almost as though trying to steal away. He crawls on all fours (threes? he's holding something) under tables and across the floor before rising again at a different work table with his awful... eclair-looking thing. Maybe he what he needs is to sit next to people who aren't as awful at pastries as he is for a change!

Henry turns to chat up his new acquaintance of a stranger, donning one of his sheepish smiles.]

Hey, how're you doing with this sweet stuff?

IV b

[integrous]

[ Usually Asahi would be prefering to be sleeping at night. In her bed. Like a normal person. But a combination of sheer paranoia over everything that seems to be going on here lately and harpy instincts lead her to instead sit on a roof and think at night.

And although the streets aren't entirely quiet at night, they're a lot more calm. Calm enough to easily spot it when something does go on, especially with harpy sights. Asahi can easily spot someone sneaking around and..

Oh god, it's graffiti. Is that another one of those idiots putting those terrible things all over the place? Before Momiji can even finish the sentence, Asahi is already flying over - no longer paying attention as to what exactly is being painted on the wall. And it's that misconception that brings her to quickly drop down in the alley he has fled to to look at his work from a distance.

Asahi spreads her wings wide, crossing her arms and trying to seem as intimidating as she can. ]

Hey, what do you think you're doing, you jerk?!

[ She apparently doesn't realise who it really is.. ]

[moustre]

1. They do, and it would! They would say that of course not all's as clean as they'd like it, wasn't too clean a break in the first place, but it was definitely better than how it could've gone without their help... In any case, the more radical of their sort've called for the death of all Drummond sympathizers, be they in the present or past, and they're quite loud; the Circle's placided them with those closed sectors they've got now, but a few of the people he talks to (especially if asked about them) says it feels a little wrong, like they're no better than the regime before. Of course, those that need to be punish ought to be so, but was this truly the right way..? Getting the city to get out of old habits is hard too, but at least it's being worked on.

The citizens are a little easier, a little less conflicted: They're for whoever has their benefits in mind, generally, though obviously more Monsters support things as they are now, with the shoe on the other foot. There's a distinct lack of pro-Drummond supporters though, either due to the fact they're behind figurative bars or because there's a fear lingering about it, but what takes their place are citizens who are dismissive of the Circle of Three and the militial feel of Dorchacht, the asides of some things not being as available as they used to be, and being primarily made of Non-Monsters.

As a special thing, if Eren is open about his Draconic self, people are wary, respectful, and scared in a general sense.

2. Linda Hann... The memories of the people are being unsupressed for sure, bit by bit, but a large majority of them still don't recognize the name; these believe that a terrible Monster of some kind held Dorchacht in its palm and Drummond saved the city, even if it became as it had. There are a few Coven Librarians, the ones who'd helped the Resistance should he recall, who remember reading about her before the Great Erase as they'd taken to calling it, and say that she was called "strict and doing what needed to be done", though they promise to keep Eren updated should they remember anything else.* As for the previously enslaved, there's hints in personal journals they've found that they came from settlements beyond Dorchacht, surely ruined by now.

* Please check in in a month on the investigation post, they'll have something for you then.

3. No, they haven't. Going into the Wilde around Dorchacht may be prudent, but they themselves haven't found anything of the sort in the immediate surroundings.

[cyclopticsadist]

I'm not here to kill you. If you want to die you'll have to do the dirty work yourself.

[Niles struggles with reading words forward, so a backwards imprint is totally illegible to him. So instead he reaches over and pulls the book onto his own lap, closing it and eyeing the title. Wild Cats of the World, a textbook by William and Fiona Sundquist. He snorts.

As L starts ravenously inhaling the pastry Niles purrs. He'd finally learned how to do it on command a few days ago. He has exhale slowly through his nose and flex a specific part of his throat to get it started. While it doesn't sound quite the same as a the deep unconscious contented rumble that involuntary purring produced, it's not like L had anything else to compare it to.]

That is what you want right? To die? You want an angry drunk to send you through a window and crack your skull. Failing that you want me to find you and finish you off. You want that pastry to be poisoned because you want an easy way out. Unfortunately for you, I'm very interested in keeping you alive.

[selfishwish]

[The light from Momiji's lantern is, conveniently, just bright enough that it allows Asahi's wings to cast an unfurled shadow across his handiwork as she swoops down behind him. This is, predictably, just wonderful for an on-edge puca's instincts.

Which is to say that he lets out a single high-pitched noise and whirls around--and then goes deathly still, his eyes wide, waiting to be snatched up in his assailant's talons or something.

The silver lining--such as it is--is that, apparently, he's gotten better at maintaining his shapechanging power! The terror isn't enough to knock his current glamour off, at least not yet, as he shivers and gapes and finally manages a word:]

A-a-asahi....??

[The voice is his own, at least. He doesn't know what this guy even sounded like; he's been borrowing faces from randos in the Shopping District for his one-bun war against crime. The light tone doesn't really match the surly-looking, raven-haired ship's hand he's imitating at the moment, though. Like, at all.]

[hearthebell]

[L can't really hear the purring over the sound of his own working jaw and teeth; feeling it is another matter entirely, and oh, it's hard to ignore that deep thrum reverberating in his bony chest. Whether it's voluntary or not doesn't matter; what matters is that he certainly won't be starving literally to death within the next few days as a result of this feeding, assuming it's not poisoned. And there's no indicator that it is; nothing tastes off. It's one of the better cinnamon rolls L's had in recent memory, in fact.

Red-rimmed eyes remain fixed on Niles as he chews, narrowing, haughty in spite of his less-than-dignified situation. The imminent sugar rush hasn't hit him yet; for the moment, he's still wan, subtly trembling in the hands, and he pauses to bite out words instead of pastry chunks.]

You don't know the first thing about what I want.

[It helps his confidence in the assertion that he doesn't quite know, either.]

If you did, you might have let me help you to the best of my ability, back then. Instead you tied my hands, and resented the handicap after the fact. That is hardly fair, in my eyes.

[His tone is already crisp and cutting, making it uncertain if he just emphasized the plural at the end, there.]

[hallucinogem]

"I don't know," she admits far too freely, and she's even willing to ignore the part where her obviously brilliant plan is being called into question. (Gods, how much has she had by now? How bitter is she about Dorchacht? It doesn't matter.)

"Get loud. Make it hard to ignore. There's—we have the, uh, the speaker system? For the roommate announcements or whatever when we have a new group of Mirrorbound come in. Steal that and start yelling! Or, or... or do something to make it so they have to pay attention to us! Let them all know that we don't buy their bullshit!" She's looking on and grinning with excitement that can't fit in her body. "Just be loud about it! It's that easy! Be the loudest and they have to listen."