Sanctuary -- October 1901

[Liessel]

Char:
Three hours later, deep in the night, with the rain kissed icy outside, a lone young woman came under cloak and hood back into the theater and ran up the aisle and onto the stage and around through the pulled-back curtains. She navigated the wings, navigated the hastily tossed-aside elements of the show, and sped toward the dressing alcove that had been hers hours before.

Bobbi:
Three hours later, after having lost sight of Victoria in the sweeping throng of admirers from where she was hidden, Liessel was nowhere to be found within the dressing closet Victoria had left her in. The little lamps were still burning, casting a dim light within the room that hadn't changed from when Victoria had been there last. There was something new, though. Drying muddy footprints, too large to be Liessel's, crossed the heavy wooden floor having come from the stage area. They, like Liessel, disappeared into thin air at the middle of the tiny space.

Char: Well.

Victoria Pemmel, rosy-cheeked and giddy (and a touch drunk) might have been prepared to follow some muddy footprints.

Except that she couldn't. Because they disappeared into thin air.

Sight of them led to some blinking on her part. Then a quick tossing of the dressing room in search of the muddied shoes--there must be some sign!

When she came up empty, she stood trying to make sense of it.

Gone were her visions of taking the woman from Faerie to Flynn & Flynn as an excuse to court the delicious strangeness of the twins she'd met at a very strange seance. Gone was the triumph of it, at least.

Because going to them was the only thing she could think of to do. And, frankly, the only thing she really wanted to do.

She had their card in her bag, but did not need to read it.

Missing persons located was directly under their names.

Bobbi: In the quiet there was noise. In the stillness there was movement. But there were no shouts. If it had been anyone looking for her there would have been shouts. From depths of backstage, lodged between two sets that had been moved and positioned against a wall, tucked into the darkness they provided the shadows moved and caused one of the pieces to fall with a bang. And then silence and stillness. The hope was that the noise hadn't been heard, while the reality of it was that it had to have been. The theater was too quiet for it not to have been heard.

Char: On this night like no other, the place was deserted. After any other performance, after any rehearsal, there might be set builders around, stage hands playing cards before heading to their beds, singers and actors making love. On opening night, while not impossible by any means, the chances of the crew and cast of the Tybalt returning to the theater were low, low, low.

Just as she was deciding that, yes, she could still go to the Flynns, and that she should decide what to say and how to say it to achieve maximum involvement in whatever happened next (without being able to pay them), she heard the rattling bang of the set piece slap the hard, dirty floor.

Chill shot through her; Victoria Pemmel was bolt upright. Irrational, the fear that took her. Childish. Primitive. Yet she was still as a baby gazelle for a moment, ears straining to hear.

She pulled the curtain back, careful not to get the hem of her gown in the mud of the footprints, and experienced a moment of shame. You're a leading lady. You have every right to be here. And so her entire demeanor changed. She strode out toward the source of the sound, her gown held up in one hand, and when she saw the piece she went still again. This time she peered about not like the gazelle, but like the lioness.

Bobbi: That was not the heavy determined sound of purposed footfalls creaking against the floorboards of the Tybalt theater. In the darkness she drew back and held her breath, pressing herself as far back as she could while daring to reach up and lay a finger against the mark on her forehead. The strange form in the darkness, Liessel prayed for protection from it. She sought the will and courage to face it if, indeed, it was a danger. If it was death come for her, she prayed to the blessed that it be swift and painless. She had been a humble, worthy person after all. There was no greater blessing than to go in peace for a life given over to faith.

Char: "Who's there?" Victoria pulled on all of her stage abilities--projection, steadiness, in character with a sovereign confidence that was new to her in real life--to send the question ringing out backstage, charging like a cavalry into the cramped pathways.

Bobbi: All praying stopped at the sound of a familiar voice. Liessel was careful as she pulled herself from the crevice she'd hid in. "Is he gone?" She asked, now covered in dust and dirt from having taken shelter with stage pieces, "We are alone?"

Char: Soft sounds drew Victoria Pemmel's attention firmly toward the set pieces, and at last a little movement of one had her hurrying over even before Liessel spoke. If asked later why those sounds drew her toward rather than away, she wouldn't have quite been able to explain. I felt no danger might have been her puzzled words.

The unfamiliar language more so than the sound of the voice sealed that in, and Victoria helped shift the lighter of the set pieces back--more because she hoped to be of use than out of the act being actually useful.

"A fairy came for you?" she asked--just barely able to sound concerned instead of excited, when it was the excitement that really gripped her. "You poor dear! Come up, come up!" She went around to see if she could aid Liessel in standing. And in that, her timing was much better.

Bobbi: The help that was there in the form of Victoria was taken. Liessel's path to her feet was anything but graceful in the tangle of her blue robes. She'd pulled the fabric around her form, flattening folds and keeping any extra length of it from being wild and free. Now the fabric was loose to its own mind, the heap of it a slight burden as she stood with the aid of the singer. "Septimius," the name was said as Liessel looked in the direction of the dressing room. The next word spoken would be familiar to Victoria, Liessel having said it often enough by now, "Left?" There was disbelief in the statement, and caution.

Char: Understanding surprised Victoria. She followed Liessel's glance. "We're alone," she told her--though it occurred to her, as she said the words that she merely assumed that was so.

Certainly, she was not lying. She'd seen no one. Heard no one. Guessed that her fellow performers were lighting up London with their triumph, drinking toasts to all manner of things, and making love. ... As she'd had ample opportunity for herself. And would have seized upon, with any of her handsomest admirers, were she herself not smitten. Determination reared anew.

"The weather is dreadful," she said suddenly. "Come with me! Let us find you a cloak and--oh!" Her eyes widened as she realized Liessel's footwear was far from sensible. Swallowing astonished disapproval--she felt sympathy for Liessel, poor dame!--she patted the woman's arm. "Nevermind! We'll see you right for London, love."

Bobbi: Liessel found herself looking at Victoria curiously. She was watching the woman speak, observing the words as they came from the singer as much as she could in the dark, barely lit backstage area. There was very little in what Victoria had said to her that Liessel understood, but here again she was finding more in tone of voice than any actual meaning to the words. Something was bad, and Victoria was trying to comfort. Liessel looked down at the hand that was patting her arm, but did not fight any movement to follow with Victoria.

Char: The Tybalt Theater employed a full compliment of singers, stagehands, and staff. In that, it was a rarity among lesser-known theaters. Such a rarity that it was rumored that the theater's owner, Andrew Lord, financed it through deals with demons.

Demons, or criminals. Interchangeable, really.

He didn't, but the point is that many people of all kinds and sizes were sheltered by the sprawling yawn of the place.

It did not take Victoria Pemmel very long to find a good warm lady's cloak for Liessel, and it was only a few minutes more before (after some eyeballing and side-by-side comparison) she found a pair of shoes that would work. The cloak was black wool, and unadorned, a trifle worn in the lining at the shoulders, but it had a good hood and would do if they hurried and the rain did not turn into a hurricane. The boots that worked were also worn, but still had their inward curving heels and all their buttons, and were at least better for October weather than sandals.

Victoria poked around for other comforts among the players' things, hoping for a muff for Liessel, but found only a pair of oversized white men's dress gloves. For earth's sake, she did offer those over, promising Liessel that they would hurry to their destination.

On this night, Victoria Pemmel could afford to pay for a cab, but it was the wrong hour.

Big Ben had tolled midnight nearly an hour by the time Victoria judged that Liessel was protected enough to face the weather. They would be on foot.

The rain had at least washed the sooty smoke out of the air, and banished the smell of the Thames.

One could still see nearly nothing of the city, of course. Fog edged everywhere that sheets of rain gave way. So Liessel would be introduced to London (or re-introduced; Victoria did not know) in lengths of less than a block at a time. The lamps that remained lit, where there were lamps at all, were barely helpful. No lightning came with this storm, and no thunder, so the world was outlined in a strange underlight, the greys and darkest purple-browns that seem to be exhaled up by the city itself.

Victoria stayed close to Liessel, even walking with one arm across the other woman's shoulders. She was thinking all the time of the looks of admiring wonder and congratulations she'd find on the faces of the Flynns, and one of them in particular, but the truth was that she felt a genuine, instinctive protectiveness for Liessel, the woman who needed her, who only she had recognized, and it went a good distance to outpacing her ego and hopes. When all the rest was peeled away, all the glow of her debut, all the scheming for love, she did not want Liessel to be cold, and she did not want Liessel to be afraid.

Twenty years old in a great and ancient city in the dark hours, Victoria was, herself, afraid navigating the dead streets. She burned with purpose, though, and that helped. Liessel's presence also helped. They were two. In the cold and fierce rain, they were two. Neither alone.

So even with all the ragged spin-off rumors and tales of Jack the Ripper-like monsters roaming the nights in the guises of men, she persevered. And if Liessel gave signs of weariness--for this was a long walk--or fear, she would do her best to explain and encourage, even with the language barrier.

She even hummed a little, very low, her voice more than a match for the storm even suppressed.

At last, the shops turned to more cluttered businesses. Lawyers of a middling sort; contractors' offices; accountants. No dress shops along this stretch of tall, narrow, shoulder-hugged buildings with blackened roofs. Instead, when there were shops, they were clockmakers, tinkerers, and jewelers who specialized in things like spectacles. There was one single bookshop.

It was at the bookshop that Victoria turned and went up a rain-sloshed (but clean) alley to what should have been a back door to the book store. Over this door, however, hung a sign that read Flynn & Flynn. Below the names were the words: Artificers extraordinary. An old bronze bell hung nearby. Soaked and flagging, Victoria rang it loudly.

Bobbi: There were moments in the trek when Liessel's courage did wane. The city was huge! It seemed to cover a distance that was unfathomable in the heavy blanket of watery murk that came down from the sky, and settled with the fog. It wasn't desolate, but the weather did make it seem oppressive. There were no ends to the streets, no break in the buildings. In the dark of night and under the weight of the weather, London seemed like a sleeping giant. She wondered what kind of giant it would be when it was awake. Streets came and went, her borrowed boots feeling strange on her feet and the protection across her shoulders from the woolen cloak felt like someone had draped the water logged years of times gone by across her shoulders. By the time they got there, Liessel was shivering. She held her arms close around her for warmth, keeping the edges of the cloak tucked so as not to allow any of the night air in any more than it had done already. Her gratefulness that Victoria had stayed with her for the walk, and had helped her find something more suitable to wear than just the shift of her robe, ended as they reached the alley way. She stopped as the singer went in, watching from where she stood, feeling as if just standing there were going to cause her body to take on the chill in the air.

Char: Victoria Pemmel's patience lasted exactly two seconds.

She rapped sharply on the door, snaking her gloved hand out only long enough to do so before it vanished again under her own cloak. She glanced at Liessel, beckoned her down, but just as soon was ringing the bell again with all her might.

The young woman backed up a step and chanced a look up toward the second storey's tall windows, but found them all dark.

She rapped again. Rang again. Tried the doorknob; found it locked fast. Opened her mouth to call up when a sound from the building adjacent made her think she was about to be scolded from one of its windows about the hour.

At last, a dim glow moved across one of the windows above the sign, disappeared, and reappeared a moment later on the other side of the door's two ornate glass panes. The lantern glow was diffuse in the white gauzy curtains that kept the door private, but she could make out a figure who seemed the right size and shape.

A key turned. The door opened a crack--and then wider, revealing a young man in a dark dressing gown.

"Miss Pemmel...?" he asked with sleepy surprise. The lantern's light spilled out into the alley, taking a bite out of the dark. When he spotted Liessel, the door opened all the way, himself stepping back. "Come in out of the wet! For God's sake."

Bobbi: There was reluctance to join Victoria on the small landing but light from one of the windows, and the slight noise from the adjacent building, pushed her toward Victoria. Under the heavy cloak, Liessel's shoulders were slumped forward with chill, wet, and fatigue. She hoped whoever the building belonged to had warmth inside, and at the very least it would be dry. The door opened, and a young man appeared. It was all she could do not to throw herself into what might have been the warmth of his building. A look went toward Victoria. If Victoria went in, then Liessel would follow.

Char: Warmth--yes. It came out in a wave and promised a hearth, a stove, a summer, a sun.

Victoria turned sideways to get past the door and the young man and to make room for Liessel so that the door could close out October.

The space was narrow only by the door itself; it widened into a short stub of a hallway that ended at what was probably a closet before turning sharply left, away from the bookstore and toward the back of the building. There were tile floors (now muddy), white walls that were unadorned in the narrowest portion of the entryway, but packed with framed news clippings further in ("Oslo Strangler Arrested," "London Sleuths Locate Angelshead Heiress," "Seance Scheme Debunked," "Britannic Glory Exorcised," and so on). A deep, wine-colored rug began just past the left turning, running up a stripe-papered hall past two doors and up a flight of dark wood stairs.

The young man was blond-haired, and though he wore it cut short it was messy as he'd likely been abed. His dressing gown was dark silk with a thick tapestried collar, and it was indeed thrown on over his night things. He had very dark eyes, and he stared between the lady's for a blink before he snapped to. "Come! Shed those! --Leave them here; there's still a memory of a fire upstairs, at least! I'll get you tea, knock the ice out of you."

Bobbi: Following Victoria in, Liessel pulled back the soggy hood of her cloak and took in what there was to see by the lamp held in the young man's hands. The warmth was like the breath of the blessed against her chilled skin. She swore she'd be able to drink it for eternity and not be tired of it. There was some small drawback to having stepped in from the cold. Now that the warmer air surrounded her, Liessel was well aware of just how wet and cold she had become. He looked kindly enough, if a bit bed weary. It was no wonder, though. The city, itself, seemed to be sleeping in under the storm and at this hour -- whatever hour it may have been -- he had been too by the look of his comfortable clothing and messy hair. At a loss when he spoke, Victoria's strange companion looked her way for some sort of understanding.

Char: Victoria had been suppressing mad shivers for some time, and now that the heat hit the shivers ironically won. For only a moment, but she shook herself out of her cloak as she unclasped it as much as she peeled it away. There was no obvious place to hang it, no servant (obviously) to offer it to, but the young man reached out in a mute offer to receive it and she took him up on it without hesitating and turned to help Liessel do the same.

As she did so, she began rapidly: "Forgive the hour! Surely you know this was the debut performance of 'Grace of Egypt'?" Some accusation leaked in before she could stop it. "This lady appeared after Act Two, and--"

"Upstairs, upstairs; tell me upstairs when we've got you both thawed," the young man interrupted, all out of balance between the warm lantern in his left hand and the dripping cloak draped over his right arm.

Bobbi: Seeing what Victoria was about set Liessel into motion on working with the clasp of her own cloak. Between numbed fingers, sopping fabric, and the split second need to be rid of the garment she struggled. The large gloves she wore were peeled off and the struggle resumed. It was a good thing Victoria was there to help! Within moments she found herself free of the wool and standing there in her blue robes, now damp and dirty, and feeling completely awkward for it. What would the blessed think to see her now? She felt like a drowned rat.

Char: Less than twenty minutes later, things were very different.

Upstairs in the parlor, Liessel and Victoria would be sharing a floral, high-backed sofa before a newly rekindled fire, with a low table and tea set before them, along with some bread and raspberry jam. The rain pattered gently on the roof above them, audible but distant. The heat of the whole building was captured on the second floor, and so even before the fire had been resurrected by the young man who had shown them the way, it had been blessedly warm.

As for that way they'd been shown:

The stairs turned past one landing before they met the second floor and a more open living space. Rugs everywhere up here, softening every space.

The only visible doorway not barred by dark wood doors was the apartment’s parlor. It was modest in size but neatly furnished even if the furniture was of an older sort. The hearth was tall and ornate, the mantel covered in boxes, candles, and books, and topped by a large mirror in a golden frame aswirl with swans and lilies.

The sitting area featured two chairs that matched the sofa and the tea table, and half the room's walls were packed with dull-spined books arranged mostly on shelves, but also stacked and leaning in every available space near those shelves. There was a globe in one corner that stood half Liessel’s height in a stately wooden frame. There was a collection of Arabian astrolabes arranged on the wall between the windows. The windows themselves would have looked out onto the spectacular vista of the brick wall of the next building over were it not for heavily drawn curtains. In the time that it had taken to get Liessel and Victoria settled and warmed, the young man in the crimson dressing gown had turned on two electrical lamps in the room that gave off a rosy, welcoming light through their glass shades, stoked and fed the fire until he was satisfied, and had disappeared to make tea.

Victoria spent that time (if Liessel allowed it) clasping Liessel's hands to help warm them, and trying to reassure her--in English, always--that all was well.

Bobbi: No words were spoken from Liessel until her shivering had stopped. Bit by bit the warmth seeped in, slowly removing the chill that had threatened to settle into her bones. With more of Victoria's help her fingers were no longer feeling like ice cicles at the ends of her hands. When they were thawed enough, she helped herself to two pieces of jam bread and devoured them. The tea was taken, but the warm cup just held in her hands. The room was looked over. Everything that could be seen was seen until finally she looked at Victoria and asked, in her own native tongue, "Why are we here?"

Char: Victoria looked to be a churning mix of relief, anxiety, excitement, and hope. The young man had left them again. They were alone.

"They're going to help you! Too exciting!" Victoria leaned in to whisper to Liessel, as if the language barrier had dissolved. "Get you back to Faerie if you're lost from there; get you back to your house if you're lost from here! Bottle you if you're a demoness or some such thing! My God, though, my friend!" She leaned in closer. "I can't tell which one that is! I thought certainly I'd marked the differences! This is so embarrassing...."
Their privacy did not last overlong. When the young man returned, he hadn't gotten dressed, but had apparently disappeared to swiftly duplicate himself somewhere, because he could be seen giving a slight shove to a sleepier version of himself just before they came into the parlor.

The sleepier one was robed in green, at least, so that helped, and he swiftly made himself look not as sleepy, straightening himself out near the doorway. At the V-cross of fabric at his chest, a ragged stone on a thong began to glow softly. So softly, that the young black-eyed man himself was not the first to notice it, but instead his twin made a startled gesture after glancing his way, having just said, "Miss Pemmel, forgive our--"

Thong was pulled up over his head, and he held it out. Directed it one way, another; the glow, so faint it could have been a trick of the eye, became a touch sharper whenever he held it out toward the fire. He followed it; his twin watched, obviously surprised. The glow became more pronounced. At Liessel, most pronounced yet. Again, he directed it every which way with his outstretched arm, and it waned at the hearth, waned at the chair, waned toward the back of the room, and flared (still weakly) at Liessel every time his direction changes passed her.

Two young blond-haired men with black eyes and good looks stood with raised brows, quite perplexed and intrigued.

The one in crimson who'd helped Liessel and Victoria to settle in all this time came around and took a seat in the chair to Victoria's right, sighing and very pointedly resuming his duties as host. He reached over to pour himself tea so that Victoria wouldn't feel obliged to. "Well! That's a bit of a divergence," he said. "Stop that, Felix."

Victoria, instantly more at ease on knowing who was who, had been watching Felix, apparently, in green, who'd dropped to a crouch by the armrest of the sofa, the thong and its ugly rough little stone held up, still limned with a faint white light that barely out battled the golden firelight.

Felix's arm dropped with his glance at his brother, and he looked at Liessel again, assessing, before balling the thong and the rock that looked like it could have been scooped up from the dripping alley right outside (or any alley or street, for that matter) into his hand and receding into the other chair.

Bobbi: As proof that the language barrier was still in full force Liessel blinked at Victoria's words, her expression almost blank. She just wasn't understanding the words. She wanted to, and that was painted on her face. She wanted to know why Victoria seemed excited. She wanted to understand why the younger woman's words seemed to come so giddily in the alien parlor around them. What Liessel wasn't privy to kept her own wonder and excitement at a far distance within her mind. When their host returned he was not alone. It was a bit surprising to see two of the same face coming through the doorway, enough of one that the new comer to London breathed a singular word in her language that meant, in a strictly literal translation "two of the same face". That marvel was overcome by a fascination with the softly glowing stone. "Gift of the blessed." Came from her in all but a whisper, and she watched as the stone was passed in different directions to every corner of the room, its light blooming a bit brighter every time it passed her way and softening otherwise. When Felix knelt closely with the stone, Liessel leaned away from him a bit and asked "What is that?" Looking from Felix to his crimson robed brother and then to Victoria.

Char: Language.

For Liessel, then, the next low, hurried talk--a bit spiky, proud, and energized from Victoria; courteous and measured from their red-robed host; rare and quiet from the green-robed one--would be strata of confusion, compounding and building up in layers as the three English subjects discussed (presumably) who and what Liessel might be.

This went on for ten minutes. The clock, half-hidden among ornate wooden boxes on the mantelpiece, said so. It was all the cadence of question and answer, with Victoria filling most of the time.

It broke when the green-robed young man rose and navigated around the extra hearth wood to scan a bookshelf much taller than he was. His twin rose, too, and went over to run a fingertip along the spines of the books on the lower shelves of the same bookcase, crouched in front of his brother. They spoke to each other, and the green-robed one left the room briefly, coming back with an armful of fat, tatter-spined books. He held one out, eyeing the spine of it, but finally shook his head with a frown and stacked those atop a short tower of the same in the corner.

Their frustration was quiet but unmistakable. Victoria reached out to pat Liessel's hand at one point. The men moved on to different bookcases, splitting up; the crimson-robed one gave the few books on the mantel a once-over as he passed. He apologized to Victoria and to Liessel. "I don't want to have to go to Fitzhenry to work a spell of tongues--" (His twin across the room grimaced painfully.) "--but we may have to if we can't find the Downs." He sighed. "It's got to be here somewhere...."

He went on searching. He and his brother disappeared up the hall several times; doors could be heard opening, closing. Something in the back of the apartment toppled in a cascade--books, by the sound.

At last, the clock showing close to half past two, there came a triumphant "Aha!"

Bobbi: The question and answer session was filled, from Liessel's end, with her head turning to whoever had been talking. Mouths were watched, emotions read through tone of voice, but that was as far as her understanding of the conversation went. It was a little disheartening to have to sit there and listen, to hear words but not to know what was being said nor to be able to respond when she felt she should have. It was a great lesson in humility from the blessed, she should have taken it in stride. It was not so easy in practice. When the conversation broke and the two began rummaging about the book shelves, she watched on and every now and then cast a questioning look toward Victoria who seemed to have calmed down from the midst of the conversation just moments before. Under other circumstances watching them on their search might have touched her as a bit comical. Then again, under other circumstances she might have been able to help them find what they were looking for.

Char: In all the search, perhaps, without language, the lingering way Victoria's eyes followed the young men (particularly the one in red, but not exclusively) around the parlor would speak something to Liessel. Victoria's relaxation, now, was indivisible from the obvious pleasure she was taking in being where she was. The very young singer, fresh from a triumph at the Tybalt, felt she was on the verge of another kind of coup, and it brought a glow of anticipation from her every bit as potent as the strange glow from the ugly rock.

Victoria jumped slightly at the Aha! and sat up straighter, but a wide grin came to her, and she leaned in to share the frisson of excitement with Liessel, as if they'd successfully schemed out a marriage proposal.

The green-robed one returned with a blue-bound book that had seen better days, shaking it to get his brother to move faster. He handed the book over and then they both promptly disappeared up the hall, talking swiftly.

When they returned, it was with the book and some diverse items in their hands. One had a fat spool of a string or yarn that shimmered like the fibers were silver; one had a pair of unlit lanterns and scooped up the one the red-robed man had been carrying when he'd greeted Victoria and Liessel on the ground floor. Carefully, the lanterns were rekindled and placed, and then the electric lights turned off so that it was only fed flame that lit the parlor.

The green-robed young man pushed the tea things aside on the table before the hearth and rested a cube-shaped device the size of a grapefruit onto it. Crouched beside it, he made a pattern around it with the silvery thread. The device was not solid; the firelight shone through its layered, latticelike interior, showing gears and parts that started to grind together and work silently into motion as one when the young man a moment later struck it with a tuning fork.

Bobbi: The longer she sat and watched the more apparent it became. Victoria held an affection for the red robed young man. It was not exclusive, she could see the care that the young singer had for both of these men. It just ran a little bit deeper in regards to the one dressed in crimson. She tried to share in that excitement, she attempted to not be bogged down by feeling like she was sitting in a cloud that kept her separate from what was going on in the room around her, and within the apartment as a whole. When Victoria leaned in toward her, Liessel smiled and then turned to watch the green robed one re-enter for what could have been the fiftieth time with a blue bound book in hand. Both men left and Liessel turned to Victoria with a questioning look, one that deepened when the twins lit the lanterns and doused the lights. The room took on an eirie glow, and the strange box they had set on the table took her attention. She watched as it was struck and the cog-works inside began moving but still could not help herself from asking, "What are you doing?"

Char: It was the crimson-robed twin who had the book and came around to crouch with his back to the fire. The blue-bound book, gold lettering faded on the spine and golden Arabesque patterns half-agleam on the cover, was already resting open in his hand, a black satin marker snugged in the spine.

The last thing that happened before the red-robed young man began to speak was that his twin left one more time and returned with an enormous shotgun. Victoria squeaked at the sight of it, startled. It was pointed at no one, angled down toward the floor, but in the middle of London, England, in October, at nearly three in the morning, for some reason the man in green had seen fit to bring an elephant rifle.

Embarrassment at her own reaction was not really enough to erase it, but Victoria, wary that she might have alarmed Liessel, too, went to assuring her with hand-pats.

The ugly stone on the thong took on its glow again as the man crossed the room to a corner and put his back to it. He gave a nod.

His brother began to work some magic.

He read from the book, and appeared to be reading not to Liessel, not to Victoria, not to the room or the aether or the fairies or to God or to anything at all besides the clockwork box on the table. The black iron thing worked silently in the loop of silver thread. The young man in red chanted to it, and only to it.

The gold words on the book took some of the firelight on as he shifted to keep from cramping.

Victoria was saying something. The green-robed man in the corner softly shushed her.

The gold words on the book, worn with age, used the Roman alphabet.

The gold words on the book's spine probably meant nothing at all to Liessel until slowly they started to mean The Ninety-Five Missteps of the Georgian Witch, by Adenworth Downs, Esq., EDINBURGH.

The chanting probably meant nothing at all to Liessel until slowly it started to mean "... and four by four by twenty cast forth under the stars to be gathered gathered gathered only in the time that need arises. And five and four by four by twenty cast forth under the stars would be taken taken taken by the book and by the grove, like wheat bound up and like wheat cut, gathered gathered gathered to the reaping. And five and four by four by twenty castaway shall one be made anew anew anew all seeds scattered now returned, all tongues broken now restored."

Bobbi: She watched on, fixated on the red-robed brother until the green one left and came back with a huge weapon. The sight of it was enough to still Liessel, wide eyed, in her seat as Felix brought into into the room. Beside her, Victoria's squeak was not enough to shake her from her stillness. It was the patting to her hands that brought her back into motion, aided by the fact that Felix didn't seem to be pointing the large gun toward anyone in particular. An uneasy smile was sent Ms Pemmel's way, Liessel doing her very best to not let the unnerving presence of that dangerous looking thing that Felix carried undermine the comfort she took from the fact that Victoria was still with her. The reading commenced, actions answering her question. She put her attention there, watching the red-robed brother as he read to the box and slowly, -slowly- words began to become more than just spoken noise. Slowly, she began to recognize the script as she could see it on the binding of the book began to mean something, too. Astonishment washed through her as word after word took on meaning. From one brother to the other, and then to Victoria, Liessel looked. Now her excitement was there. It rode in on a tide of cautious optimism because she could understand what the red-robed brother was saying, but could they now understand her in turn? "You are keepers of the blesseds' hearts!" She said, testing the waters of what just might be a common ground now between them all.

Char: Victoria gasped--this time at Liessel. "You speak English!" The words burst out of her, shocked rather than accusing in that first jolt of realization.

"She does not," came the reply from behind them, the man with the gun, who was right then quickly using the barrel of the huge weapon to move aside an edge of one of the curtains to peer down into the alley, and then up toward the obscured sky. "Observe her lips."

The red-robed man continued to read: "... deeper deeper deeper, set the plow set the plow set the plow, sow the gift, sow the gift, sow the gift; five and four by four by twenty; the sea takes, but all shall remain as one until the bell until the bell until the bell." The cadence had changed, and his tone, too, and all the time the black box's innards worked indifferently.

Bobbi: The spell, itself, was new to Liessel. She had never heard this one before, but she had heard other spells. SHe had seen other spells worked. This one, cast with the intricate little box that the red brother spoke to was so very new. Some spells, she knew, were best left to be finished or else potency might weaken, or mishaps otherwise might occur. She did grin VIctoria's way but then fell to silence as the green robed brother spoke, and the red clad brother continued. Silently, she reached out and took Victoria's hands in her own. It was a small quiet way of giving thanks as she waited for Felix's brother to conclude the casting. If this was how all things such as this were done, she had landed herself into a very strange world indeed!

Char: The young man in the red robe closed the book quietly at last and set it on the table. He took a fat pair of shears from the pocket of his dressing gown and took up the length of silver thread that had been wound loosely around the base of the box. He measured it out, folded it twice, and snipped it into four lengths.

He smiled to Liessel. "Your wrist, madame?" To illustrate his meaning, he shook his left sleeve to slip it back to more fully reveal that his left wrist was wrapped in varicolored threads and strings, numbering more than a dozen. "This should help extend the life of the spell a good while."

At her side, Victoria was mute with wonder, and absolute delight.

Bobbi: It was over, and Liessel continued to watch the spell caster as he shut the book and prepared the lengths of silver string. It glistened in the light much the same way her hair did, catching glints and glimmers as it was snipped and moved about. Quickly, eagerly, as asked to do, the slim cuff of her robe's left sleeve was pulled back with her right hand. She offered her left toward him finding herself marveling at the number of strings he had tied around his own, "Your strings -- they are worn for the same purpose?"

Char: "Oh, yes," he said, glancing at them, turning his arm a little, "mostly." He tied the string so that it fit snug, looking to her to make certain it wasn't too snug.

"Going to go check the attic," said his twin. The elephant gun's barrel hummed a deep note as he brought it around carefully and headed out to inspect the rest of the building.

The red-robed man tied a string for Victoria Pemmel, next, and then took a moment to secure the third one around his own wrist, among all the others.

"Now!" he breathed, taking up the tuning fork and striking the black metal box with it. It rang, and then went silent when he left it on the table and took up his seat again, sitting forward, attentive. "My name is Avery Flynn, madame; my brother Felix will return in a few minutes. This is--forgive me if you know already--Miss Victoria Pemmel. What is your name?"

Bobbi: A nod was given to the red robed twin before the deep sound of the elephant gun humming, and Felix's words brought her head around to see him as he was leaving. Avery was drawing her attention again with the sound of the tuning fork and his words. A smile was given toward Victoria Pemmel, the name finally having some solid meaning for her. And as for the brothers, Liessel committed the names to memory and associated the colors of their robes to them mentally. It wasn't a fool proof way with how identical they looked, but it was good enough for now. "I am Liessel Erphale (air-fall-lay). Where did Felix go just now, if I can ask?"

Char: Victoria was herself humming with adrenaline, and she returned Liessel's smile readily, thrilled by all of this. As Felix advised, she watched Liessel's lips as she spoke. It was a strange thing. It was not obvious at all that anything was amiss between the words Victoria perceived and the rhythm of movement of Liessel's lips and jaw. It was not until Liessel gave her own name that the sudden match between reality and perception made the rest seem strange by comparison. Even then, with Liessel's question, try as she might Victoria could not have sworn that the woman was not simply fluent in English.

The magic went deep--or the power of the mind to cover the strange did.

For Liessel, the same would likely be true with the others. She spoke as she spoke, and it may have seemed as if the spell had gifted the others with knowledge of her tongue.

Avery gestured toward the ceiling, but also toward the unseen bulk of the apartment. He rapped the blue-bound book. "With some magics, unforeseen additions may let themselves in. He went to check the building, to make sure we don't have unannounced guests or disturbances."

Bobbi: In her tongue, Liessel said "Turchares?" or something close to it. What Avery and Victoria would hear would be the word "Imps," as the woman in blue lifted her gaze toward the ceiling and then shifted to look toward the shadows of the room. "That is what the big thing he carried was for? To dispatch of unwanted visitors?"


Char: "To protect us," Avery offered instead, finding the distinction to be an important one. "But there's little cause for concern. This is a precaution, itself, and very effective." He indicated the black iron box, still now.

Easing back, he made a small gesture toward Liessel and took up his tea. "Miss Pemmel tells me you--"

"Please, Mr Flynn! Victoria! You so have leave to call me Victoria." The young woman, trained singer that she was, could not fully control the flutter in her voice.

He smiled politely to her and with a nod tried again: "Victoria told me that you appeared on stage in the middle of a theatrical perf--"

"Operatic!"

"--in the middle of an operatic performance. It seems you have quite a tale to tell."

A subtle creak above them indicated Felix patrolling the attic. The rain outside continued unabated.




Charlotte Carlson

Bobbi: The affection was not returned? She had thought to have seen it unmistakably in Victoria while Felix and Avery were hunting for their book. And she did see it here, or rather she heard it in Victoria's interruption, but Avery was either oblivious, or being polite. The subtle creak above them held her attention for a moment before she was folding her hands together, as if in prayer. "That I came here in the middle of a performance was not intended," she said that as an apology toward Victoria, and continued, "I was in need of a quick escape from Septimius and his men. It just kind of happened that this is where I wound up."

Char: Victoria might have had a good few things about that tone of apology, had this been the moment for it. Things like: this was among the most exciting, grand nights of her life!

"If you'll pardon the questions, how did you arrive as you did, and who is this Septimius? Why are you pursued?"

Bobbi: "I passed," she told her companions, as if they'd understand, "through the three gates. I had to, though I know it is forbidden. It was the only way, otherwise I would have been caught. Septimius is the head surveyor, and he is not a kind man. There would be no mercy spared for me, even for doing the bidding of the blessed. I -- I took something from the High Sister."

Char: Avery was blank in the face of those terms. He looked to Victoria as she looked to him: no, the same blankness greeted both. "I confess to being a bit lost already," Avery said with a warm laugh, scooting to the edge of his chair to stretch and take up the teapot. He filled Victoria's cup, then indicated he would refill Liessel's, too, if she wished.
"
Bobbi: “Lost?" The refill of her cup was not needed. Liessel hadn't so much as taken a sip of her tea. She shook her head at the offer and found herself looking between Victoria and Avery, "You mean confused?"

Char: "Very," he assured her, drawing back, pulling the fourth cup and saucer slightly toward him. He righted the cup, filled it, set the teapot back on the tray and put the saucer over toward the chair yet empty, opposite his across the long length of the low table. Resettled, he said: "Three gates? Septimius? Surveyor of what? High Sister...? I'm not familiar with these. I promise you, no harm will come to you here. Perhaps you'll begin at the beginning? And a little more... educationally...."

Slippered feet were quiet on the hall's runner, but the floor creaked in warning anyway. A second later Felix was back in the room, the big gun still in hand. He brought it over to the fire with him. "All's quiet," he said. The elephant gun was left leaning against the hearth-facing arm of the empty chair (out of reach of all but himself) before he sank into it and took up the fourth cup.

Bobbi: He told her no harm would come, but it took a moment for her to decide that for herself. By that time Felix and his elephant gun had joined them. Knowing that everything was alright throughout the apartment gave her some courage, enough of it for her to say, "I am a priestess of the blessed. One of ten keepers of the three gates. These gates are doorways, and opening them allows us to travel beyond our lands and into others. We are overseen -- erm, watched over -- by the surveyors. They keep the High Sister's law in my land. The High Sister is --" she frowned and took a pause to find the definition she wanted mentally, "a ruler. It is by her that our laws are set. Septimius is her -- consort by forced hand. She chose him, and he could not refuse. No man refuses Giessel. The punishment is death."

Char: All of this sounded like fairy talk to Victoria. "And these gates? This Giessel. This is all in Faerie?" she pressed, looking around for approval.

Bobbi: "Faerie? Where is that?" A glance was cast toward Avery, and then a more solid look toward Felix, "I'm not familiar with that name."

Char: "Do you know where you are now?" Felix asked her--perhaps spurred to speaking because Liessel's gaze had fixed on him.

"It is not Faerie," Avery told her in an attempt to head off confusion. He flattened his free hand underneath the saucer he held. "It lies a bit... adjacent to here."

Bobbi: "No," she told Felix with a shake of her head before looking toward Avery, "As I said, I had no real path when I went through the gates. I just needed to be away from there. This Faerie -- there are people there?"

Char: "Yes," Avery told her with a nod. He was not one to quibble over the implications of the word 'people.' "Of great variety."

"What was it that you took from your High Sister?" Felix cut in.

The sound of the rain softened. The clock on the mantel chimed the first sounding of three in the morning. Nearly exactly in time with it, and from far away, bells across London tolled the hour. In the apartment, they were nearly sensed, felt, more than distinctly heard.

Bobbi: Comment on what Avery said was stolen by her response to Felix. As the bells began to chime, heralding the hour, Liessel shifted enough to open the pouch on her belt so she could withdraw a tightly wrapped piece of dark purple silk looking fabric. It shimmered a bit in the light of the lanterns, slightly reflecting the red light they cast. "I took this," careful hands unwrapped it, moving layer after layer of the protective cloth until it was all only draped in her hands and its contents revealed. She was holding something that looked like an ank, cast in a mix of metals that looked like steel, silver and gold. There were two bodies to this ank, though, and its head was set with a large oval stone that resembled garnet in color. "It is the eye of Giessel's power. It is why no man can deny her."

Char: Riveted, all three of them. With every slip of fabric loosened, they sat transfixed.

Victoria was so focused she didn't realize she was holding her breath.

"Something spurred you to take it," Felix said.

In apparent agreement, Avery asked, "What happened?"

Bobbi: "There was a battle," she told them, settling back to hold the eye in her hands against her lap, "Giessel had ordered so many to be killed. She wanted their land, their homes. She said she had seen a bright star and it had told her this was the way. That it would bring her glory untold. She said it was the blessed she had seen and she used the eye to...uhm...persuade Septimius that it needed to be done. She used it on all of her surveyors. They ordered her will, and it was awful. The priestesses -- we tried to make them see reason, but no reason was to come. When they slaughtered my sisters I hid, and I planned. There was no other way to stop it, I am sure."

Char: The twins exchanged looks. Victoria listened, enthralled and eager for details like a child without the child's freedom to ask.

When Liessel seemed to finish, there was silence save for the crackle of the fire and the faint drone of the rain on shingles, glass, and stone outside.

"I am sorry, Madame Erphale," Avery finally said very softly.

Bobbi: "Thank you, Mr Flynn," She began re-wrapping the eye carefully, "I really hadn't intended to cause the stir I did at the theater," She paused to look Victoria's way, "I do hope that other woman is alright. I hadn't meant to frighten her."

Char: Victoria was not selfish enough to feel no shame at the sentiment. At the Flynns' questioning looks, she explained, "When she... manifested, Madame Hewlitt screamed and fainted dead away." She looked to Liessel. "I'm sure she's well. A doctor was summoned, and I heard no ill news during the evening." A rush of guilt swamped her and she reached to clutch Liessel's hand. "I'm sorry I left you! Had I known your story was so bleak...."

Bobbi: "It is done," was Liessel's reply, her hand lightly squeezing Victoria's, "And gone. I have no doubts that had we been able to understand each other things would have gone far differently." There was comfort there in her voice, just as she had taken comfort from what Victoria had said.

Char: Still confused inside (and perhaps there would be room for true soul-searching another day), Victoria was nevertheless comforted by Liessel's forgiveness and gave a nod. Yes. Had they been able to understand one another....

A yawn seized her and she clamped her jaw to fight it down.

Avery saw it. He glanced at the clock out of reflex though the hour was still only newly tolled. Of Liessel he asked, "How long has it been since last you rested?"

Bobbi: The priestess had to think about that. Her thoughts came in the shadow of her trying not to yawn in the wake of Victoria's battle. She, too, had caught the struggle against the singer's own mouth and had caught the yawning bug easily. Liessel lost, and wound up covering her mouth openly with her left hand, "Forgive me. I think it was two nights ago, but it's hard to say. The days and nights have all seemed to run together."

Char: Avery looked between the ladies again, and then to Felix. Felix looked so neutrally attentive, so quietly curious, that if Avery was able to read anything extra in his expression it was on account of their extraordinary likeness in common.

To the women, he said, "I've been a terrible host. Why don't the two of you rest here for the remainder of the night? And as long as you like tomorrow. If there's anything to be done, we can discuss it when you're refreshed. You'll be safe here."

Bobbi: Safe. It was an entirely different thing to entertain the thought of safety while sleeping, or even just resting her eyes for a moment or two. Tiredness had been something she'd pushed to the back of her mind because sleep just wasn't -safe-. Here were these two strangers, three counting Victoria, and all of them had told her she'd be safe there. Maybe it was possible. The blessed obviously had a plan. She would not have wound up sitting in their parlor at the strike of three for no other reason. "Thank you," She said to Avery in response before turning and nodding the sentiment toward Felix, "and bless you both."

Char: Felix had opened his mouth to speak and relaxed that way for a moment with no sound coming out. It wasn't until Liessel looked his way again and thus included him that he said, "That object--we'll need to secure it."

Avery frowned like he wished his brother had waited to bring that up, or as if he thought there was a better way to approach it.

Felix's tone was not harsh, merely direct. "If it has the power you say, we cannot just let it sit here. We have a kind of safe."

That word again.

"A vault," Avery said quietly. He'd been watching Liessel's face from the first moment. "It would be nearby."

"But not left loose." Felix sat very still.

In their fair faces, their black eyes were steady.

Bobbi: "Nearby where?" There were all sorts of reasons she didn't want to let the thing go, to want to keep it close at hand and under her watchful eye. However, what kind of rest would she get if she were worried over one of her new found friends getting their hands on it, and figuring out how to use it? It was not something she thought of until that moment, until Felix had implied a danger in it being left with her while she rested.

Char: It was not only Felix who hesitated at that. There were all sorts of reasons not to detail the location of such a vault. Avery said, "On the premises."

Bobbi: Was that good enough to know? Liessel looked between the brothers and said quietly, "Do not think me ungrateful, or rude, but I have gone through a lot to secure the eye. Surely you understand my caution in handing it over to people I have just met."

Char: "Of course," Avery told her. "And what do you know of us?"

"Oh, they have very fine reputations!" Victoria blurted out, though even she sensed how inadequate that might be. She was in the grip of infatuation, however, and also not fully able to process the nature of the danger Liessel described. For her, the excitement and willingness to be part of an adventure could not entirely overcome how new such things were to her, and how wondrous tales were dismissed as being for children and thus irrelevant. She was as a fledgling just trying out her wings.

"You will fall asleep," Felix said bluntly. "Whether you fall asleep here in the warm, under our protection, trusting us even when you have little knowledge of us, or fall asleep out abroad in London in the cold because you cannot stay awake any longer, a moment will arrive in which you will have to let go for a time. You may seize that moment with us, or have it descend upon you."

"Take charge of the fear of it now or not--as you please. Either way, the moment [i[will[/i] come."

Bobbi: "And what would happen when that moment does come? What is so different about this place that the three gates could not open up to it?" This one, Felix. She was looking his way, "And who would know what I carry on my person beyond those present here?"

Char: "Not knowing what the three gates are, how can we --" Felix began.

"What my brother means," Avery said, "is that sooner or later, you're going to have to take a chance and let your guard down. How might he and I, and Miss Victoria, prove to you that we mean no harm, and that we are extremely cautious about meddling with unknown items? Because you need sleep, and we need sleep. We're strangers to you, and you to us--yet we've invited you into our home. That's the leap of faith we've made. It hadn't quite occurred to me, but I think my brother is right to be wary of that object being here unsecured if it is what you say it is. So, if there's anything we can do to assure you that our putting it away is for safety rather than greed, tell us. And if you fear that these gates may open and admit your enemies anywhere, then it doesn't matter anyway whether you let us lock it in our vault or not, does it?"


Bobbi: She'd gone from looking at Felix to looking at Avery, then to the fire in quiet contemplation. Several moments later she was nodding her head, hands folded over the wrapped object on her lap, "While I am not comfortable with letting the eye out of my immediate possession I can see the wisdom of your words, Mr Flynn," she looked Avery's way, "I do not know how you would be able to prove your intentions to me beyond allowing you to take the eye into the safety of your vault. However, you and your brother would be taking on a risk in handling the eye, in placing it where you would. Should Septimius, or his men, discover where it would be, for the moment, it would be you and I they come for."

Char: "If you sleep in our home, are we not already taking that risk?" Felix asked.

A flicker of comprehension sunk in for Avery, and he looked to Victoria. "Miss Pemmel... Do you understand that this is a risk? Even without the particulars of the tale we've been told...."

What had occurred to Avery was that it actually was a risk. His job involved risk. His readiness to offer hospitality to a pair of ladies in the small hours had been first protective reflex, then manners, with the final layer being a powerful curiosity. But it was not his job--no payment had been offered or discussed. He'd offered them hospitality in his home, in Felix's home, content that details might be hashed out after sleep, and the story had been a story, and any danger had seemed like it could be no different than other dangers he'd known.

At shortly after three in the morning, with talk of gates possibly opening in his house, he was belatedly realizing the pitfalls of his haste.

In the end, though, even there, right then, it changed nothing. Maybe Liessel, being potentially not human as she appeared, did not have to rest, but he and Felix did, and so did Victoria Pemmel. Using the same argument Felix had used with Liessel, they were going to sleep sooner or later. With all their ignorance, was it better to send Liessel forth into the cold night (this thought was never seriously entertained by him, only coming up academically), or take the risk for a short time, rest up, and try to learn more once refreshed?

Avery's answer for himself was without question the latter. But....

Victoria was looking from each person to the next. A moment before, she'd felt like one of the group. It had been thrilling, unreal, amazing, mysterious, dangerous, and unlike anything she'd ever felt save for her first solo on stage as the star this very evening at the Tybalt.

Suddenly she felt like the odd one out.

Bobbi: Toward Felix, Liessel was about to answer. Instead, as Avery spoke, she looked toward Victoria. Sweet, sweet Victoria who had helped her, even with the benefit being mostly Victoria's at the time. Help had been help in a moment of need. The priestess smiled and quietly moved to lay a hand atop Victoria's in comfort.

Char: The move was comforting. It made her feel drawn back in, however slightly. She clasped Liessel's hand, but dropped her gaze to where the material of their gowns met on the upholstery of the Flynns' sofa.

Victoria was caught in a strange space. Indecision was a cloud that filled her thinking, cut through with lightning strikes as she assessed how much of all of this she really believed, whether she felt brave, what bravery even meant to her, whether risk of any real kind was worth it for love, for self-respect, for care of Liessel who trusted her, in the face of the sudden blossoming of her career, the sudden possibility, the glorious triumph of this night. How would Liessel look at her if she backed down, and what did that mean to her when they'd only just met? Would the Flynns think her just another silly lovesick fan--and did she care on the night when she could have any of a dozen worshipping lovers who'd heard her perform?

"I...." Victoria frowned, met Liessel's eye. "Do you think... Do you think this Septimius will find you in the next hours? Track you across London...?"

Bobbi: "I do not know," she offered honestly, "He found me at the theater, but only because that is where the gates had opened up. London," that particular word was odd in her mouth. There was no equivalent to it in her tongue, and so she copied it as she had heard it spoken to the best of her ability, "Is a large place, seemingly endless. I have my doubts that he would be able to track me so easily here, but I cannot say for certain."

Char: It was a good question. Avery was stuck in a guilty place, and some of the guilt came from his personal resolution toward getting the eye squared away and then catching a few hours of sleep. Though he had not said it, he guessed Felix would keep watch. Both of them had had a busy day. He kept silent so as not to push Victoria toward any particular course. There would be time for that tomorrow.

More minutes passed before Victoria at last said, "I'll stay. If Liessel wishes for me to."

Bobbi: She did not like having that responsibility placed on her shoulders, but there it was. A look went quickly to Avery before she was asking, "Is it acceptable for you to stay, Victoria? Is there no one who would miss you if you did?"

Char: "After this evening's opening?" She sparkled with sudden humor and pride, the thought slicing through the darkening mood in the room. "I doubt a single member of the company will be seen abroad before noon!"

Bobbi: "Then there will be no trouble for you if I did ask you to stay?"

Char: Victoria's smile faded. "Only what trouble we court here, I suppose, but no: not for me personally."

It did not occur to Victoria to wonder whether Liessel perceived the hidden layer of concern. Quite aside from the attraction Victoria felt for the young men, and the flexibility her lifestyle afforded her, there was the matter of a strange woman being hosted by two men in their house. It had nothing to do with the honor of those young men, either. A woman and her friend staying together as guests was far more acceptable, and that quiet pressure was yet another in play.

Bobbi: "Then, if you are comfortable with it, I would like you to." She didn't know Victoria any better than she knew the Flynn's but the presence of another woman felt more like a comfort than knowing that the apartment was considered safe.

Char: After a moment, Felix said, "With that settled...." and rose to his feet. "Let's have your object locked away."

"We'll talk more in a few hours," Avery promised--not only Liessel, but also Felix, though he was nodding encouragement to the woman. "And it sounds as if... we'll be doing quite a bit of that." Despite the mood, the prediction came with a wry smile and raised eyebrows, and a sigh that was just shy of being a resigned laugh.

Bobbi: Handing over of the eye came with a rising to her feet, but not until after she had held it between her hands and shut her eyes to offer a small, quick prayer to the blessed. It was one for guidance, and protection, and for the safekeeping of the object she had brought with her. She had risen, then, to hand the thing over to Felix, who had been sitting closer to her than Avery.

Char: Felix started to reach for it, but hesitated, meeting her eyes with the first glimmer of certainty. "Anything I should know while handling it, madame?" Liessel herself handled it with obvious reverence, but easily enough. Still....

Bobbi: "Don't touch it bare skinned," she warned him, "I am not sure how it works, but its been said that the blessed speak through it with direct contact. It is believed that it is through this that men's minds become.poisoned with the desire to serve."

Char: And there he stood in his green dressing gown still, pulled on over his sleeping clothes, bare hands having nearly touched it. Felix Flynn blinked at her. Then at his brother. Then back. "Ah," he said. Nodded. Held up one finger. Inhaled. Pause. "Pardon me. I'll be right back."

And with that left the room, presumably to procure a pair of gloves.

As he went, Avery coughed slightly. "When you say 'men,' do you mean 'mankind,' or do you mean males?"

Bobbi: "All men," She answered, having turned her head to watch Felix go before she looked Avery's way, "All ...people, Mr Flynn."

Char: People. All people.

Avery had a million questions and doubted he'd get sleep that morning. There was a small matter that would rear its head at ten in the form of Mr William Sully, and while Avery certainly would have preferred William Sully's money over the no money being offered regarding Liessel, the sheer scale of dangers hinted at in Liessel's story made the investigation of the entire matter potentially one of duty and of safeguarding the Empire. The imperative to see his bills paid simply could not compete.

"Well, for now I hope you'll forgive the accommodations: we don't often host ladies in this way. We'll see you warm and comfortable, at least...."

Felix reappeared, donning a second glove, nodding to Liessel that he was ready. Avery noticed that Felix had also put away or hidden the ugly glowing stone, and that he came in with a sharp-sweet herb scent about him. It was no more surprising than the elephant gun, really: in certain matters, Felix could make a tortoise seem like a reckless risk-taker by comparison.

Bobbi: "Warm and comfortable is most we could hope for," Liessel replied to Avery while Felix re-entered, "Thank you, Mr Flynn." Having still been speaking to Avery, the priestess was then looking toward Felix. The gloves on his hands, the smell of some mix of herbs that followed after him -- she could only assume they were more works done to protect himself. "Do be careful with it," she was holding the carefully wrapped object out, once again, for Felix to take, "Mr Flynn."

Char: "I'll take care with it," said Felix Flynn, meeting her eyes just before he took the bundle from her. His gaze was frank, attentive, and guileless rather than sly. There was no sign of hidden laughter, no wink of deceit, no mockery of her trust. Felix might as well, right then, have been a machine built for the express purpose of safely transporting the eye to the vault for the remainder of the night.

It was decided by Avery that the ladies should take his room and his bed. His reasoning was thus: his bedroom resembled a bedroom. Felix's bedroom currently more closely resembled the aftermath of an explosion in a clockmaker's workshop, with a single narrow path cleared to his bed for, presumably, emergency escape in case of an avalanche.

So Liessel Erphale and Victoria Pemmel were taken back through the apartment to the corner bedroom. It had the same high ceiling as the parlor, was obviously a bachelor's bedroom, and was not a space made for showing off wealth. Among the deep burgundies and blues, atop the orderly busy-ness of the Oriental rug covering the floorboards, what it was was interesting. Tall bed, the covers thrown back from Avery's jolt awake by the doorbell, rich red wood at its corners, and in the small table and its pair of little chairs by the curtained window. The window looked down over the ugly little laundry yard behind the building, shared by five buildings in total, and chickens packed around it during the day and roosted near the row of refuse bins at night, so there wasn't a view to enjoy and the interest of Avery's bedroom began inside, if one noticed that the bed posts and chair legs appeared to be carved all over with reptilian scales.

On closer inspection, they weren't scales at all, but some kind of script with a cursive dip that occurred often enough that at a glance they looked like lizard skin. The white walls were covered with blue-printed schematics and tatter-edged maps, tacked up around the tall wardrobe, at the edges of the dressing mirror, and wallpapering most of the reachable level of the room around eye-level. The schematics showed organic-looking shapes dissected with mechanical insides on display, they showed objects of palatial scale (that scale helpfully detailed in carefully arranged legends) and objects the size of honey bees. There was no map of England, no map of Great Britain as a whole, but there were over a dozen marked up in foreign languages, some using recognizable Roman letters, some using script as unintelligible as that which decorated the wood furniture. There were stacks of boxes, wood, mostly locked up tight. There were pistols and a sleek oiled rifle above the fireplace, a sword, a shield that looked like it had come to the present day from the age of the Vikings. On the mantel was a fat canvas bag with shoulder straps that held its very square shape by virtue of having a wooden box inside, the pack obviously made for it, stitched with the grim practicality of an old galleon's sail.

Avery pointed out the lavatory, and then showed the ladies his room, stirred the embers in the fireplace until he was satisfied with them, checked the covers on the bed and took a moment to find an extra blanket. He had nothing to offer them by way of ladies' things, but assured them that if they needed for anything they could wake him and he'd see what he could do. They would talk more at breakfast. For now, he'd leave them and check on Felix, but here was a bell they could ring for him, and all should be quiet other than that.