If You make it Out Alive (Witch)
Content Warnings:
Blustering and threats of 'hooking and drowning' people. Dehumanization and use of slurs at people.
The scheme, as it was roughly laid out, is fairly simple. As all good plans need to be.
Not to succeed, as we’ve all learned from countless failures, but to be flexible enough to bend rather than break when the inevitable unnoticed storm hits and twists it all about.
The letters are our first priority. They contain too much knowledge that could make our broader goals much more difficult if carried to the wrong hands. The second is… more flexible. Consider Rufus' old squad and see how tenable it may be to gather them to our cause. Which…
Well… We can not very well go walking up to a gaggle of Threshers looking like this and expect anything but hostilities. Even if they accept quickly that we’re not some twisted monster or Sun-Blessed they’re equally likely to attempt to capture us for taboo of Fleshcrafting!
“So, honestly, I’m thinking our best option is to draw them out so that Schatzi can slip in and get those letters without issue.” I say to our Pack as we gather in the jungle far beneath the Root Way. “Then either lock away their magic with the Gnadenhalsband, and/or we simply toss them through a Wurzelriss into a chamber back at the Estate.”
"A chamber or a Chamber?" Xafra asks quickly.
"Just containment at first, someplace sturdy where they can't cause problems with our without their magic. Nothing else." We reply. "After we return they can be moved and Rufus can talk with them himself. Decide the best way to handle the gaggle from there."
"Sounds reasonable to me. Tag em, bag em, and toss em through the tunnel through locations. Easy enough." Adaline says with a laugh, still exuberant from the chase.
"Exactly" We nod, "We'll want to push them all through together, as we do not have the Ousia for multiple castings. So we want to ensure whatever leads them all out to be snatched is enough to draw out the entire squad, while also being simple enough to keep any follow up investigation from thinking we had anything to do with this. A beast of the jungles ambushing and overpowering a Thresher squad is uncommon, but not unlikely."
"I can definitely be a big enough looking threat, my concern is if they have surrogates with them as well. I would rather not harm more innocents if it can be avoided." Xafra offers.
"Rufus said they had two for the entire squad of five. Adaline's weaving will cut them off from their hooked workings that keep the muppets leashed but... hm..." We pause and consider this, then sigh and shrug. "We'll have them come back with us on foot after the Threshers are gone and they are freed. We'd release them but... I'd rather them not get recaptured and sing tales of us to the wider Burrows."
"Mmhm. I think that makes sense. Let me know when you're all in position and I'll throw a tree through the front door?"
"Oh that'll be perfect." We grin.
After that we work our way up the tallest tree, hop over onto the nearest Root, Make our way along the path until we stand just a bit from the village, and find the best spots to begin this.
"Alright, Let's..." We pause, focus a bit harder on our Ousia senses. Considering all the people we sense in the little Root perched community and their souls and... and go still as cold realization cuts down our spine.
"They aren't here!" We hiss before Xafra or Adaline can ask.
"Shall I ask Rufus where his squad has gone?" Warden asks.
"Yes, And while you do that, Schatzi could you take a peek about the structure the Threshers commandeered here? It should be grown out of the side of the inn." We agree and instruct. "Possibly check with the keeper of the place if they seem unlikely to find your inquiries suspicious, perhaps pose as a messenger for their former squadmate?"
"Of course." She curtsies low, shifting her form slightly more towards human, and walks around the building.
"Let's hope this gaggle is just... out chasing some odd creature or some such and not rushing back with all haste to their burrow with those letters." We huff as we watch our Doll head forward.
After a few minutes, Schatzi returns with a perturbed expression and a letter that she hands over. "They were reassigned. Tasked with being the Winnowing Front of a response team to meet up with a sudden new threat. The directions make it quite clear that they are making camp on the Rootways only a few hour’s journey away from the Estate."
"Do we return to the Estate now then? It seems unwise to try and assault a larger grouping, though also even more important now to get that letter, I think." Xafra asks as she paces around us.
"We'd tip our hand if such a large group was tampered with so directly, yes." We muse aloud. "Even if there was no connection to us and none were left to speak to their attackers, the proximity to the Estate would point to it being us. So... yes. Back it is. It seems we'll get to see how this Pack's new Sisters handle more subtle hunts. One that disallows you all from killing or otherwise disheveling this group until these talks are over. Because at this point it is very unlikely they've dug out those letters. If they, had they'd have rushed from this place at all haste to deliver them. Not gotten swept up in this mess."
Verbess hums, then clicks to us. {Both your Ousia senses expand beyond any Threshers. We could take the Root Ways and discover how many approach before dropping back into the jungles.}
"That makes sense. I am uncertain how effective I would be with infiltration, but it seems likely that it could be done to secure these letters and learn what we can about this impending issue." replies Xafra.
"That, wonderfully enough, is another skill our dear Schatzi excels in." We smirk and take up our Doll's hand and begin to move toward the route Rufus's squad took.
We're not sure how long it would the run would have taken us even a week ago, much less back when the Seelenfäule still drained us, but it barely takes us a forth of the day to navigate the pathways and feel a gathering of people with the vibrant Ousia of Threshers.
"Well isn't this... annoying." We murmur as our Pack pauses to consider what our senses feel. "That's at least three full squads alongside Rufus' diminished one, and from the way their weaving some enclosures from the Root Way... I'm guessing they're expecting at least one more group. Probably more. And... at least two of these squads have a muppet for every member. Not in the gentle way Rufus' Burrow keeps his either. These fools have come ready for conflict."
"Well that neatly eliminates the potential solution of just killing them all. I would volunteer to infiltrate with Schatzi but I can't pass for human anymore like I could when my only unusual features were my eyes. Xafra, you could probably spoof a mundane Ousia field for yourself and Schatzi, right?" Adaline comments.
"They're alone out here, awaiting more of their own and the Envoys. Any visitors will be highly observed and scrutinized. Which... Hmmm..." We grin and glance to Schatzi, tendrils clicking a little tune of excitement. "We've long since abandoned the idea of meekness in our future talks with the Groves and Threshers.. And this gaggle is already within our territory. A little 'hi hello' to them could be just the first impression we need. Would also give quite a distraction so you could slip around without being seen and get those letters."
"Bravdo, but not direct conflict? Warden thinks this is a good idea." It mentions as it manifests its ethereal form once more.
Xafra readily agrees and asks "Are we pretending that I am a Warlord proper then for this bombastic introduction?"
We can't help but cackle at that, and how perfectly our own tendrils clicks of anticipation mingles with our Packs subtle but harmonic Quill-Song. "Oh wouldn't that set them into a panic? To discover that not only is the new Blossom some unknown Fleshcrafter, but that we have a Warlord bound to us? Yes. Empty Skies. With both our wards and your Lunargent filigree protecting us from any hastily cast nonsense... We think that could be quite the wonderful start to things. Our Schatzi won't even need half her skills to slip through the camp unseen."
Xafra smiles and shifts her form towards that of a Warlord as we walk but stops with a puzzled expression on her face. "Can you ask Rufus why he thought I was Sun-blessed? This form is based on a Warlord from my time, and I'm now realizing that It's likely that the Warlord Arts have changed much since then."
"It's because your Warlord form is beyond what a Thresher is used to dealing with." We reply. "While plenty of Warlords might bear a similar silhouette to yours upon a full shifting, they can't maintain their forms for long periods, and often look quite... distinct. Gaunt and thin when not roused to change. Many even take to fusing different parts of non-human creatures into their form. Shells, frame reinforcements, protrusions, talons, and such. Some may go farther still and weave ascetic changes about themselves, but most don't. Also, most won't live beyond a decade or three once they take up the Art. It's... honestly a lot like Fleshcrafting in that respect. Your form is just... too efficient and cleanly woven. Ousia too robust. He probably just jumped to the conclusion that you are sustained by Nomos and thus are a Sun-Blessed that has taken a liking to the shape of a Warlord."
Xafra gives a look of revulsion that she quickly swallows as she shifts her form to one that resembles a halfway point between Doll and Warlord, stick-thin with a bone mask over her face and two huge near skeletal four fingered hands. "I crafted this form to clean up the aftermath of a plague without interference. It is meant to be terrifying and unappealing. Does it seem close enough to the modern Warlords?" She asks with a rasping echoed voice that carries much farther than seems reasonable for how quietly she speaks.
We pause, tilting head and tendrils while eyes roll up and down this impressively terrifying weaving. Letting our bond pulse with almost instinctive fear, interest as a grin takes to our lips. "Oh that's... wow. It would definitely speak to the tastes of some of the Warlords we've heard of. But... is it a form you delight in? We'd rather you not be uncomfortable in unnecessary ways for this."
"It is one that serves a purpose, one of labor, not pleasure, but causes no discomfort." Xafra answers with an unnerving chuckle.
"Hmmm... It would certainly give us the best of both hopes." We agree, and enjoy how even in her knitting of this form's voice she knew just what pitch would naturally startle and worry any listening. "They'll be aware that we've a Warlord for at the very least an ally, and quite a sturdy one at that if they try something stupid, while also not overplaying our hand or giving them suspicions about your abilities unless pressed. Anything explained by a Witches empowerments to a partner."
Then we turn to Schatzi. "Alright, dear one. You've never done anything but impress us in your work, and that was before you had Pack Sisters. If anything I expect this'll be a bit more dull than previous times since you need to keep out of sight of the gaggle."
"Yes Mistresses, I'll do my best to remain out of sight." Schatzi dips towards us for a quick hug before stalking quietly through the underbrush towards the encampment.
We chuckle and shake our head, let them all feel our amusement at the idea of Schatzi's best work not weaving success for us all, then begin an almost leisurely stroll to the camp with Adaline and Xafra in tow. Only as we get close let our tendrils and bond shift to echo more quiet contemplative things. "We trust you both to keep in mind that we can't let this rise to real conflict. They won't even be like Rufus at his most suspicious. They will be worse. We expect more than a few open threats and possibly weaving tossed at us if they sense an opening. It won't work, and we can use that failure to purchase us future sway over them and the Envoys."
"Shall I announce our presence then?" Xafra murmurs.
"That sounds perfect." We nod, take a deep breath as the Root Way twists to reveal the slowly budding encampment, then let it out as tendrils slowly quiet and settle into our hair. Adjust our eyes to focus on the bustling still far ahead. Take in the details...
It's about what we expected. They chose a wide point along the Root Way and have probably spent the better part of the past day or so growing enclosures from the wood and foliage. Cultivating a little village close enough to the Estate to approach if needed, but... far enough away to rest easy. And even now we can see the tense way the Threshers scurry about. Like how others might prepare for the Summer Storms, or an ambush.
They have a lookout, and from the way they're squinting I suspect she sees our basic silhouettes. Expression hasn't tilted from relief at what she thinks is more Threshers come to join this gaggle, to something darker at the truth. Hand is even half raising to wave in greeting.
Which makes sense, honestly. We're approaching from their rear. The path they all came from and would retreat along if things went poorly. Wouldn't be surprised if an entire squad is watching the other side.
Xafra begins to hum at a pitch that vibrates my skull, lingering in the mind as she pauses for regular breaths while steadily raising in volume until the entire encampment is on alert to our presence. "That should work well."
While the cackle we feel is easier to stifle, the grin and titter of our tendrils is not. Old terror at the idea of such a large gaggle of Threshers suddenly made pointedly aware of us, and now in a body that looks so very different and monstrous, bubbles into an almost manic thing that nearly causes us to suffer a Division.
Part of us wanting to run, the other wanting to toss out our most furious workings and tear the danger to naught but wet ash.
But we remain focused. Feel out our wards and sense how they mingle so well with the etchings woven across our scales, then the two dangerous sorts at our sides. Both easily a match for twice this entire gaggle.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
We stop a decent ways away from the encampment, obviously showing the gathering group that we mean to trade words, and wait.
And... Xafra's not wrong. Her announcement of our arrival truly does bring what looks like the entire camp to our side. Hard looks mixing with fear as more and more begin to observe our forms. Hooks and spells and... well of course. The muppets kept close and pulled taught. Most seem pretty wretched in their states; gaunt and dulled in skin and eyes. Some glimmer with awareness while others... Others are distant and hollow. The few who seem healthy are obviously part of Rufus' former squad and easy to spot near the rear of the gathering.
Eventually a larger figure pushes through the group. Layered in leathers similar to others, but bearing all manner of grim trophies and extra fixings of shells and wood. Three hooks on her hip and dirty pale hair so long she wears it braided and draped around her shoulders like a scarf. Eyes a muted amber that roll over us in the space between breaths like all the rush and panic around her aren't happening.
The Thresher's quiet as she steps forward, so the words she calls out aren't drowned. "And what manner of Moonshite are you three supposed to be?"
Ah. One of those types of Threshers.
"The what is far less interesting than the whom," We call back. "And I believe even Threshers find wisdom in offering their own names and intentions when standing before this Estate's Blossom."
"Trespassing is unwise. One would think the Groves capable enough to teach that, at least." Xafra's graveyard voice carries through the gathering as she clacks long fingers together in front of herself.
The leader narrows her eyes on Xafra. "Root Ways are ours to keep clear of dangerous beasts and the like. Which you three most definitely are."
"You, an unnamed Thresher, presume to violate the Oaths between the Groves and the Estate? With what authority? Bring forth a Matron, there is no merit to discussions with children and their toys." My weapon continues, playing the part of a disaffected Warlord.
She doesn't bristle like I expect her to, instead cracks her neck and takes a few confident strides forward. Rests a palm on one of the three weapons at her hip. "If one of you is claiming the title of Blossom to this place you better have a name that matches my orders. Elsewise anything else you have to say will be under my hook. But... sure. You should know the name of the Captain that'll drown you. I'm Klevik, keeper of Burrow Endlose Krallen."
A Captain of a cracked a riven Burrow, is here? And not Rufus' either?
{Oh well isn't this a wonderful bit of knowledge for us?} We muse to our Pack. {Her dragging squads from other Burrows deployments after trekking into the territory of another Captain is going to cause quite the pricked egos. Even with orders from her superiors I doubt Rufus' Captain will be thrilled to hear about this acquisition of her squads and recourses.}
"Well doesn't that sound just... so delightful." We grin and openly roll our eyes, but raise a hand of mock placation to touch the arm of our Xafra. "But... we all have much more important matters to discuss. So we'll offer politeness and skip the threats, Thresher. I am the Witch Elevar Nāvahīna. Current Blossom to the Estate. I take it you are here as either protection to the Envoys yet to arrive, or at least a representative of your order?"
Klevik goes still at that. Not in worry but... obvious surprise and even open annoyance to us being exactly whom we said we are. A pause, then she replies flatly. "Yes. I'm the Captain set to scour the Root Ways and get these Pathways clear for the coming events."
{Events. Heh. Not peace talks to this one. But... steady enough to not tip us all into an open conflict by calling her work here preparations for any kind of battle with the Estate and its Blossom.}
Xafra barks out a stony chuckle. "Good Captain Klevik Thresher, I am Warlord Endzeit, would you be so kind as to escort me and my charges through your camp so we may return home? It seems best to avoid any further... Misunderstandings."
The Captain quirks an eyebrow. Obviously caught between outright refusal over suspicions of this being a trap or trick but... why? This camp is barely anything at the moment. And if we wanted them dead... well... attacking when every Thresher in the camp is on high alert would be nothing but foolish. But also... being within the Estate is what made all the Groves and Threshers agree to Oaths with Yselda. We're at our most vulnerable when out and about. Which means...
She might see this as a chance to hook and drown a threat before it grows.
We tilt our head, even let our tendrils titter a bit in curiosity at what she might do with this offer from our Xafra.
She glances up between us, nods. Even does the Thresher hand Cant above her head to the gaggle. Signs for calm, if our memory serves. "I can see you all to the other side."
"You were correct as always, Blossom Nāvahīna, cooler heads can prevail. My apologies for doubting your word. My apologies to you as well, Captain, for any offense given." Xafra stops clattering her fingers and a pressure I didn't yet notice building up in our skull rapidly diminishes.
Klevik huffs mirthlessly at that, but turns and snaps some orders to the gaggle. They disperse but... it's easy to hear and tell that they mean to form a sort of tunnel of bodies through their encampment. Still around and probably moving alongside us but... leaving a good bubble of space for their Captain to move alongside the threat. A perfect layout for an attack but... one that Xafra basically demanded.
Can so easily see this Captain floundering at how very stupid, or dangerous we must be to so readily allow this.
"Oh we do have days of brilliance on occasion." We muse to our Xafra as we begin to stride forward, intoning silently. {What was that interesting little effect your Talon-song had?}
{The clacking uses harmonics to resonate with the bones of the skull, breaking them when it reaches a certain amplitude. Never had cause to utilize it fully as the migraines it causes first was more than sufficient to stop interference.} She intones back, before speaking aloud. "So, Captain Klevik Thresher, any dietary restrictions for you or the other Envoys? If we are to be hosting an audience, it seems only right to ask so we may properly follow the rules of Griþ and have the Dolls make adequate refreshments."
Xafra follows us closely, a step behind and to the left, on the opposite side of where the Thresher is, while Adaline silently trails behind us all.
The Captain glances back to eye us, expression stoic but... puzzled.
"Warlord Endzeit takes the considerations of hospitality and oaths to guests quite seriously." We supply to their unspoken question. "And we'd hate to harm an Envoy with a carelessly offered drink."
"Wouldn't guess that from the form this one twisted into. But... it's not worth driving yourself halfway into the sea trying to keep track of the odd things these low-rooted Envoy's will want to guzzle." Klevik grunts and tip-taps a hook, "They'll bring their own supplies. Start growing food and such. Just need to make sure the water the Root Ways provide is clean of the sea or the jungle's toxins. Which we've already started doing."
We nod, then ask. "How large do you expect the Envoy's gaggles to be? We certainly wouldn't want the water supply to be a problem and would be remiss to not ensure that's adjusted to accommodate everyone."
Another tip-tap, but this time on a separate hook. "From what we checked it seems fine. Worst that'll happen is they overuse and have to fall back on rations."
Xafra shakes her head in disbelief but concedes defeat. "Fine. Fine. I've been instructed to be polite and avoid pressing on such matters. No sense in creating more enemies when there's enough creepy crawlies to fight that refuse to politick."
Klevik wordlessly rumbles an odd reply to Xafra in her chest, then slows to a stop about two-thirds ways through the camp before turning to face us. "So, here is where this happens."
The Thresher's moving around us have slowed to a stop. Hooks and little preparation workings never stowed but... right now seemingly more raised and ready.
"Oh?" We murmur, raising a curious eyebrow.
"You're both infested with all sorts of odd mutilations of flesh and otherwise." The captain states bluntly. "And the last time someone let that become Blossom to the Murk... well... I take it you killed Yselda? And her wretch of a Floret? Knew them both well enough?"
We avoid the memories and Division that would follow letting them bubble up, instead focus on the now and nod easily. "I did. Yes."
She tilts a head to one side, glances to our Xafra. "And you?"
"Never met either. I was rescued by my dear Elevar and was indisposed when the Estate chose her, as it was quite restless at that time. Now, the question isn't actually if you can stop us from returning to the Estate, because really that's irrelevant. If you slay Blossom Nāvahīna without a suitable candidate for the Estate, it will simply kill everyone here, then start spreading outwards until it finds a candidate to groom for the role. If you restrain her away from the Estate, it will retrieve her. The Estate is both a prison and a seat of authority, as your betters are surely aware even if they don't deign to tell you that, little Klevik. So the question is, who will pay the butchers bill in the end? Do you have children of your own, dear? Anyone to mourn your foolishness if you decide to insist on this course of action?"
"No. My life is set to cut the chaff and spread the ashes. Make sure the soil is rich with the blood of monsters." Klevik replies coldly to our Xafra. "And... if she dies here and the Murk does start grasping for a new Blossom, then there are plenty sorts less risky than some Fleshcrafter and her pet Warlord to take up the role."
"Or you could get someone so much worse." We murmur softly, forcing our tendrils to still. "If you met Yselda you'd know that."
That makes the Captain turn her gaze back to me. "She served the Groves, and when that stopped we forced her into exile here. Everyone united and ready to pounce on the bitch if she left her prison."
We chuckle mirthlessly, let a bit of our honest worry at speaking the old wretched actions aloud tilt it to carry a little mania. "Oh? And when she had her Floret drag people back here to peel apart for amusement? Used them to perfect her Garrote? And... Did your order ever find out it was her that loosed the six Grevetriars on the Root Ways out of sheer boredom and spite?"
The first two just make the Captain and others look disgusted, but the last makes her eyes widen a bit. "She... that really was her?"
"Yes, of course that was her." We sigh and let tendrils titter our annoyance. "Yselda adored and cultivated her grudges. We, on the other hand, want this place settled and quiet. Sleeping. Dormant. A Thresher becoming this place's chosen Blossom would just... lead to another like the old cunt. Quickly. And I know you know that. So why risk this?"
Klevik tip-taps her hooks a few more times. Eyes rolling over us before moving back to Xafra. Considering our claims.
"I've promised to be on my best behavior as part of the terms of my service.” Our Xafra replies. “Tragically for me, that means I can't strike you or anyone else down for poorly mannered words or ill-advised threats. Our daughter would be quite disappointed in me if I started an unjustified killing spree."
I worry that her words will spark anger and prick at the pride of this Captain. But... that gets a quirk of an eyebrow from the Thresher. "You've brewed a little one together?"
"Not that the details are any of your concern, but let that fact be further proof that we mean what we say." Is our even reply. "We'd prefer some of her earliest recollections to not be some stupid war that started because one bad exchange with a single Captain."
Klevik considers that for a few heartbeats, then nods. "Alright."
Another beat.
"Alright?"
She glances to the gaggle about us, Cants out with a hand what we think to be things of calming. "As much as I know the best thing is for salt-guzzling sorts like you both to be hooked and drowned on sight... You're right. Conflict here will crack the Roots beneath us. That besides... My task, right now, is to make sure neither of you are infected with something beyond what old Oaths allow. Denizens and Leachers or worse. A single missed monster at the last talks with the Murk's Blossom nearly cost the Grove's the unsteady peace we've enjoyed these past decades."
She jerks her head, and two Threshers step from the crowd. Hooks in hand and two muppets in tow as their Ousia bubbles in preparation for some casting.
"Both of us are Warded beyond what a Thresher's workings can breach or we can easily unshroud, and within our own territory find ourselves disinclined to oblige this demand regardless." We explain. "If we're actually Denizens waiting to infest or worst then we'd not enter the grounds for fear of being eaten. So... how about I let you see the Estate's leash on me and you stop blustering?"
"We're obliged to check everyone coming to this." The Threshers around us tense a bit at her words, but Klevik seems to chew on that seemingly without worry. "But... if you're carrying Shelled Wards then not much I can do but verify your claim and let the others fuss over my etched report."
"How about we compromise?" Xafra raises her oversized left hand and drags a claw down her abdomen, gently pulling it open to reveal a fully functional set of internal organs that I know were not there yesterday. Her voice slips into a warm teaching cadance, still off-putting but no longer deliberately unsettling. "Feel free to inspect my internals. I've learned over the years that shelled wards only maintain complete functionality from the outside, thus, such a method as this can be used both for detection and to eliminate pesky targets by penetration of the skin barrier with sympathetic magic."
It's quite the delight to see what total surprise looks like on Captain Klevik. Real shock devoid of all else, even disgust or otherwise. Just... genuinely stiff like when some creatures spot a thing so odd and foreign they can do little but stop and devote their everything to trying to understand what has been witnessed.
"Will... This suffice?" We nudge carefully after a heartbeat.
"Salt-crusted gulls." She huffs out a laugh, shaking from herself. Then looks past to the two hovering and motions them over. "Check this one and the Doll best you can, while I see the leash on the Blossom. Nothing overmuch. Just look for spores on the organs or scars on the bones."
We're already unbuttoning our top enough to drop the shoulder and turning to let her examine our back and shoulder, and get to watch as the two Threshers fumble about trying to examine our Xafra's internals.
{Well done, with this. By the way.} We ask, only mildly bothered by feeling of a Thresher staring at the Knitting on our back. Assured so much in knowing that both Xafra and Adaline are close and could probably react before Klevik could take advantage of this opening. {But... When did you weave those?}
[The organs are part of this form. After... After Jezrial, I wanted to feel more grounded and mortal for a while so I sculpted it with them included.]
Adaline doesn't move, remaining motionless in the presence of the Thresher attempting to examine her.
"My dear pet, please humor that individual for now." Xafra calls out to her once she notices the difficulty the Thresher is having.
"Yes, Mistress." Adaline answers woodenly like a Doll overly influenced by a Witch Tone.
"Have any monsters of the world suddenly found Dolls so easy to hide within?" We try to remain impassive, but know that our words and tendrils are tinted with annoyance at the very least.
"Not often, and not easily." Klevik shrugs, pulling back and motioning that she's finished. "But I'm not a fool, Blossom. Would bet two of my hooks it's some Combat Frame filled with at least three less than acceptable installments. Have half a mind to crack it open and see exactly what's been..."
But she trails off as we glare over our shoulder and fix the Captain with a look that makes her go stiff. Hand drifts to a hook as eyes narrow.
"Let's not, for even a heartbeat, entertain that thought path. Shall we? Because you aren't a fool." We growl quietly, tendrils clicking their own much less subtle fury. "Now, leave the Warlord Endzeit's property be and let's all move along with our day."
The surprise on Klevik's face is not like before, it seems... suddenly suspicious and at the very least annoyed. But we keep our glare stern as tendrils titter our wordless threats.
"My pet was Yselda's last project before her passing and, once upon a time, the betrothed of her Floret." Xafra speaks in a warning pitch as she pulls out needle and thread to stitch her abdomen back shut. "I myself am not an experienced Dollcrafter, but I do not doubt you are correct in regards to the nature of my pet. That being said, I don't take kindly to those who would interfere with my possessions, and would consider such attempts at dismantling an act of open hostility. You can rest easy knowing you've gathered vital information for your causes without any expenditures or sacrifices."
Adaline for her part raises her arms slowly to her side and has panels of flesh automatically unseal and open on her arms and face, rendering her frame vulnerable to surface level inspection for infestation. "This one is ready to be examined for hidden monsters, Mistress."
"See? Simple politeness grows a plentiful harvest." Xafra says, chiding the Thresher Captain.
"One of her's, huh? And the last?" Klevik tip taps a hook in thought, settling a bit while the Thresher begins to examine Adaline. "I knew that she dabbled in Dollcraft, but often made less than Functional Frames unless someone else was there to keep her impulses in check."
We... pointedly refuse to comment on that. Or let the memories bubble up. Need to stay unified else risk vulnerability while standing in the circle of Threshers. But... Soon the gerl examining Adaline is stepping back after only a few heartbeats and nodding to the Captain. Seemingly satisfied.
"Yes yes, fascinating stuff and there is a potential to trade some of the knowledge my..." Xafra lets out a grim chuckle, "Owner inherited as the new Blossom of the Estate, so feel free to start contemplating a list of which sorts of information you may want as part of the upcoming negotiations." Our weapon takes up a hand once more as she finishes her stitching and clicks her tongue for Adaline to rejoin us as we resume walking towards the Estate. "Last I counted there are almost forty Dolls on the Estate, at least only counting the ones I'd be willing to discuss in polite company. Prison, as I said."
"More sickening than fascinating." Klevik grunts and moves to lead us through the camp. Canting a few simple gestures that set the gaggle about us all to relax more than ever. Not pulling back or dispersing but... very much no longer expecting violence.
"But, to your offer... Yselda did keep a trove of Thresher tomes and journals we'd like to see returned. Or at least get an inventory. Would settle the Burrows quite a bit to get dangerous things like that tucked back into our care." The Captain muses idly. "Spores, if you're this open the Envoys might even not push for isolation like they did with the last Blossom. Not having to worry over the Murk might help settle the recent squabbles being tossed between them."
"We'll see what we can manage." We respond noncommittally. "Not all the books might still be intact, but we might see if a catalog is about."
Each library had something like that at some point. But the old cunt herself liked to... to...
And of course Division hits at that. Part of us reminded of her pointed plans to burn ever scrap of the old Cunt's nonsense we ever find. Even a simple record of all the tomes she stole. Scour all her accomplishments and Dreams and even name from the world.
While the other growls in annoyance and wordless attempts to consider the ways such a trove could be used. Both in research but also as lures to draw the Threshers into trusting us! Letting us into their deepest Burrows like even Yselda could never tread before we sweep through the tunnels like the salt-riven sea and–
"Send a messenger if you'd like our aid in anything, Captain." Lynette purrs as we reach the edge of the campsite. "Only the Cracked and Riven Moon knows how much more difficult some of the coming Envoys will be to your work than we've been."
Klevik raises an eyebrow at the sudden shift in tone, but huffs. "Not likely, but the offer is noted." Then she motions to the empty Root Way. "Go on then, unless you had anything else to complicate my day with?"
"In general, we would prefer to open up lines of trade and communication once more, thus in the spirit of that potential future partnership, I would offer a piece of advice if you would take it?" Xafra states evenly as she casually lifts us into her arms without looking back to the captain.
Lynette settles us happily into our Xafra’s embrace as Klevik considers that, then nods. "Sure. Let's hear it."
Xafra, the dramatic wonder she is, whistles two sharp blasts. Then Verbess, Krahe, and Warden all drop down from the jungle above us, Krahe and Warden wearing illusions of physical form to sell the message. "The reason Dolls designed for combat are restricted is because they are undetectable through Ousia senses. You should consider using more lookouts or weaves that detect motion as well if you wish to keep your encampments secure. Good luck, Captain, I truly hope you think on everything we've said."
Klevik goes stiff, and the Threshers around her tense. But before any reply is given Xafra’s already begun walking away with us in her arms and our Pack at her back.