Outside of Conspirator’s Tavern
68 Autumn 217
First Night of Autumn’s Turn, as the newest group members are leaving
Astarael
It had certainly been interesting, watching all of these old friends reunite, and mingle with a few new additions, including her. Roux had mostly kept to himself during the time she spent with him, so she was pleased when Lumotu shared more about their hometown of Aelorean’s Crossing, and some of their journey to Northgate. She also got to regale him with some tales and superstitions she grew up with. She told him that the dead in Moraeth may rise, if not properly buried and given certain rites, about beasts that roam looking to drink the blood of humans, steal their souls, of wolves that stand and walk like men. His eyes grew wide as she showed him the silver circle necklace she wears, commonly regarded as a form of protection. He was quite fun to talk to, and she appreciated the hug goodbye he gave her. She hopes she will be able to speak with him again someday soon.
Overall, it intrigued her, how she had managed to find both the person who had chased her down, and the daughter of Eirlys and Consus, all in one night. It felt very fortuitous. She had been feeling lost, after realizing it would not be easy to cross the border into Jorung. And that it was not guaranteed safety. But fate had dropped a new direction into her lap. She didn’t know much about this group yet, but from what she had learned, it would seem she has found herself some folks who had strange powers, akin to her own, and been on difficult journeys as well. Perhaps together they had a better chance of causing some real trouble for the Painted Swans, and those who lead them. There was nothing she wanted more than that, now.
It was also the first time in a very long time that she has felt welcome among other people. Perhaps, even, some may become her friends. How strange indeed.
She has learned over the past two weeks that Roux, although a gracious host, allowing her to hide out with him, isn’t the most forthcoming of his own past. She can respect that, though. It’s not always easy to discuss difficult things. She did indicate to him that it was perhaps time for her to find another secure place to stay, as his flat was not the most spacious for two friends to share. He indicated Ethan, the one who arranged the meeting, would know where she could go. She and Ethan made a plan to meet the following day, during the festival.
It’s grown late into the evening, and the gathering seems to be winding down for the night. People are saying goodbye, those who know each other well are hugging. Astarael dons her mask and hood again, and let’s Roux know that she won’t be back tonight. She plans to take advantage of every moment she can move about in disguise like this. Vanja, the talkative maiden with red hair, is already heading down the street. The older woman, Paloma, is waiting by the door, for her friend Danica. Astarael says goodnight to her, and then lays eyes on Sav, as she walks out the door behind Astarael.
Sav has intrigued her. Astarael is impressed that she was able to track Lumotu to the meeting, despite his use of a cloak of invisibility. She also seemed to be a magic user herself, and indicated that she could easily move about the city, a place she had been for several years.
Astarael had been alone for a long time, and once believed that it would be safest for both her, and other people, to remain alone. But, the encounter with Roux, and tonight, had taught her that there were also great advantages to having allies as well. She turns to Sav, and says,
“Hi there. We didn’t get to talk much tonight, but I wanted to tell you how impressed I am with the skills you demonstrated earlier, finding our meeting. I have a proposal for you, if you’d be interested in hearing it.”
Sav
Caught in the midst of tugging on her mask, Sav blinks owlishly at Astarael, the gesture unintentionally appropriate for the face she wears. (If she were the sort to care, she would have been embarrassed at the faux pas of wearing the same costume as another at the party, given Paloma’s own owl outfit. She isn’t. Hers is - to all appearances - less well-made, anyway: a tattered piece of scrap wood with cloth “feathers” glued on and a glue-paper beak, amateurish on the front and cunningly constructed and comfortably padded on the interior.)
“Ehm,” she says, shrinking in on herself slightly, but doing her best not to show it. Of all of those there, this woman - stern, dark, and Morathi - intimidates her the most. Only Talith calls up nearly the same level of wariness, and in his case it’s offset by having heard of him and his supposed connection to the theatre before. The fact that she’s seen some magic about Astarael is enough to keep Sav in place, though, her insatiable curiosity pinning her in place. Well. That, and the compliment. She rarely hears those. Aloysius, already burrowed inside her scarf, pokes the tip of his nose out from the top of the scarf and squeaks inquiringly. “What is it?”
Astarael
“Oh, well…so…I gathered that you’ve been on your own for a while. I have been, too. And I was thinking that maybe, well, maybe it would benefit both of us to be hiding out together. It would be good to have someone who can move around more, to be an ally…and a friend, maybe. And I can watch your back too. I have lots of experience with the Swans. I’m not afraid to take them on. I know how to use a sword, and a dagger. And I have some magic of my own, too. But I’m also cautious! I know it’s a risk, having more than one of us in the same place. I know what they, the inquisitors, are willing to do for information, if they catch one of us. I would do anything to avoid going through that again, but I know that if it did happen, they would have to kill me before I gave you, or anyone else here tonight up.”
The mask is covering her face, so Sav can’t see her expression. But she hoped she was conveying her meaning well enough. She just has a good feeling about Sav. In order to accomplish their goals, they will need information. And Sav seems like someone who is capable of obtaining it.
“I spoke with Ethan earlier, about finding me somewhere to hide out. Somewhere safe. We’re meeting tomorrow to discuss it. Would you be interested in joining?”
Sav
An ally… and a friend? Both of those words feel too bulky and unwieldy to come off Sav’s tongue - they can barely even leave her mind, as it is. But a trade for a trade, she understands. Besides, some of the others here - the former friends of Emma’s - seemed to trust her. Enough to invite her to this meeting tonight, at least, which is more than Sav can say for herself.
She considers this for a moment that seems long, to her. The idea of somewhere safe tugs at the raw spot in her soul that still keens over her lost refuge. It wouldn’t be the same, of course, but her years in her hiding spot had made her forget just how awful it is to roam from spot to spot, sleeping on rooftops and in ditches. The rituals that gave her warmth and safety made up for a lot, but they had their own downsides (size, particularly). Besides, nothing saying she couldn’t use those in a safe house, too.
“If ye’ll tell me about your magic and how it works,” she says simply, breaking her mulling silence. But wait - she said they’re meeting tomorrow. “An’ where were ye plannin’ to sleep tonight?”
Astarael
“I’m not sure I know much, but I’ll share what I do know, if you’re interested. Maybe this isn’t a good place to talk about it, though. I’ve been staying with Roux, the past fortnight, but that’s also not an ideal place to speak.”
She thinks for a moment, then says,
“There was an abandoned apartment I had planned to hide in, nearby. It’s not suitable for long term living, but it should be secure enough to talk, and to stay in tonight, if you like.”
Sav
“Why not? Does Roux not know of your magic?” This potential idea seems strange, to her, given Astarael’s presence at the All-Singing-All-Magical troupe meeting. Sav isn’t asking as an objection, though, only to sate her curiosity. She doesn’t really know anything about this Roux, after all, as she hasn’t spoken to him nor heard of him. That it isn’t an objection is made clear when she adds, “An apartment, abandoned or no, sounds better than most places I’ve been layin’ ma heid recently. Or the cemetery with all the mausoleums we met in earlier.”
Astarael
A small smile appears on Astarael’s face, unhidden by the half mask she’s wearing.
“Oh, ha, no, he has seen what I can do. It’s more that his home is very small, and I suspect that at some point tonight, he may wish to sleep there. It would be hard to do so if it’s crowded with two other people who are engaged in conversation. Let’s go on to this place. I’d love to hear more about you, as well.”
Sav
Oh! Consideration for roommates! Right, that’s a thing.
Sav nods, and, in a gesture that seems mildly out of place, makes a theatrical “go ahead, milady” flourish of the hand, emphasized by the enveloping cloak now decorated with hundreds of cloth feathers fluttering in the wake of the gesture. Astarael knows the way and she doesn’t, after all. (Not to mention it allows her to keep the woman in her field of vision. Some instincts are difficult to banish.)
Astarael
Astarael begins to walk down the road. Although there are still some revelers about, it’s very late, and the crowd has thinned to just a few on this side street. A block or so away, she beckons Sav down into a small alley.
“Even with the masks, I’d feel better if we added an extra element of security to this. If I go invisible, will you still be able to follow me? It’s only another couple of blocks.”
She looks around to make sure the coast is clear.
Sav
Sav’s eyes widen, and she breaks into a wide, entirely unforced grin, possibly one of the most unreserved expressions she’s shown all night - maybe excepting the times when she was fangirling over Danica. “You can, too?” Impulsively, she reaches out to grab at Astarael’s hand. With her other hand, she reaches for the chunk of gold-chased white stone hanging around her neck beneath her cloak, sketching a brief gesture and humming a bell-like note. In the next second, she ripples into nonexistence, save for the prints of her boots in the dirt and the press of her hand on Astarael’s.
Astarael
Astarael is surprised, when Sav grabs her hand, then reaches for a gold and white stone, and disappears before Astarael’s eyes. Amazing. Astarael smiles, and reaches with her free hand, removes her own dark stone from it’s pouch, and becomes invisible as well.
Together they walk down the street, taking extra care to avoid bumping into anyone who might still be out. After a few blocks, Astarael gently tugs on Sav’s hand, leading her to a run down building, with a secluded entrance just off an alley. She looks around to be sure no one is in sight, and opens the door.
Inside is an entryway that has seen better days. Astarael heads up the set of stairs to the second floor, down the hall, and to the last door on the right. The apartment is small, not much more than a room, with a fireplace, and a bowl in the corner for washing. It’s dry, though, and spacious enough for two to sit and talk. The curtains on the two windows are in poor shape, but still thick enough to provide good coverage against any who might be curious outside.
Astarael drops the invisibility spell. In a hushed voice, she says, “There are only a few occupied apartments in this building, at the moment, as far as I can tell. This one seems to be the most isolated. We should be safe enough, as long as we keep our voices down.”
Sav
Her heart thumps with excitement as they sneak down the street. This is the first time she’s actually worked the same sort of magic as someone else at the same time. It’s scary, doing this thing openly in front of someone when she’s spent so much of her time hiding it - and also exhilarating. Someone else who understands those principles! Well, maybe - the skyfolk girl had seemed a little puzzled at the terms Sav had used earlier, despite being kin to the people whose work underlaid all of Sav’s knowledge. But this Morathi woman might understand them? She didn’t even seem to use any blood to do it, unlike the stories she’d heard growing up about the evil Morathi.
Aloysius chirrs softly in her ear, and she spares a moment to frown invisibly at him. Unabashed, he pokes his cold nose beneath her jaw, making her flinch and chide him mentally.
The room, spare as it is, looks a sight better than the places she’s been hiding the last few days. Or has it been a week now? She’s lost track - one day blurs into the other, these days. Releasing her hold on both the spell and Astarael’s hand, she pulls the mask off and looks about. “In’t a bad place. I’m shocked there in’t more people holing up here. But here, let me try ‘n make it a bit more secure.” She pauses. “Ehm. I’m goin’ to be doin’ a lot of magic for a bit. You don’t have to do anythin’ or nothin’.”
Heading back out the apartment door, she pulls a thin wire spool out, muttering over it as she goes. She lays wards at the top of the stairs, at the door to the apartment, and at the windows. The fine wire she lays across the thresholds and back into the apartment glitters as she speaks and stretches it between her fingers, vanishing as she threads a coil into a hole in each earlobe. Shutting the door to the apartment, she pulls the chunk of white stone from its necklace and holds it in one hand as she paces around the interior, half-speaking, half-singing words that resonate strangely against the ear. She pauses periodically to trace angular marks on the walls and floor that glitter gold in the passing of her fingers, until the entire room is encircled by golden geometric shapes. Returning to the center of the room, she seats herself and continues singing, closing her eyes and focusing on the stone cradled between her palms. The golden shimmer stretches from glyph to glyph, racing up the walls and over ceiling and floor until they stand enclosed in a gently-vibrating golden bubble - until, with an audible pop, the pressure inside the room eases, the shimmer fades, and Sav stops speaking. The golden glow and the marks vanish, but a sourceless bright light pervades the room. It begins to warm to a comfortable temperature, a far cry from the autumnal night chill that had filled it before.
“That should do it,” she says with the satisfied glow that always accompanies a successful bit of craft, and a little anxiety as she looks over at her new roommate (friend?). “Ehm. You can leave, although - I don’t think I left any room for the door to open.” She checks, and it does, in fact, open inward. Or it would, had the force that now encloses the room not also prevented the door from opening, as it wasn’t included within the bubble. “So… if you want to get out you’ll need to use the windows. Or break the door. I— sorry. But it should last a good few hours, eight of ‘em. You can cross in and out, but things outside can’t come in, nor magic. And I’ve set alarms that’ll wake me if something crosses the stairs, the door or the windows. I can wake you then if something happens.”
She winds down from the babble and searches for a reaction. This is, by far, the biggest spellwork she’s ever done in front of an audience.
Astarael
Astarael stands in the middle of the room, and watches the figure before her work magic in ways she never dreamed was possible. It was mesmerizing.
The room became illuminated, and a more comfortable temperature. She laughs, when Sav explains about the door. “Oh well, that’s alright. Better to be safe.” She takes a moment to lay her cloak on the floor, making a comfortable spot, and sits down upon it.
“Now, tell me what you’d like to know.”
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