Absorption 2.6.2

“I’m not sure we can afford this,” Marianne said in a worried voice.

This was a worry she was not uttering for the first time, nor for the second, nor even the third. I attempted to limit my exasperation as I once again stated facts.

“Sir Kate has promised to reimburse us for these expenses,” I remind her. “Unless, perhaps, you are having second thoughts in regards to this excursion?”

“Not second thoughts, per-se…” Marianne trails off, chewing on her lower lip.

We were shopping in the Mercantile District to finish our preparations. So far, we had bought several dried foodstuffs meant to hold us over should the worst occur, but that was the cheap part. Currently we were shopping for appropriate backpacks, bedding, and portable stoves that could double as a lantern. This was where Marianne’s concerns over pricing had begun to mount.

“But is it really fair for her to pay our way? It’s kinda… a lot.”

I withheld a scoff and instead said, “It may seem costly to us, but Kate resides in a social strata several levels above our own. Likely, this would be considered cheap, at least to her.”

“But why’d she forget to pay up-front?” Marianne complained. This was not the first time she had said something similar during this shopping trip. “It can’t be that cheap, or else she wouldn’t have forgotten.”

“Regardless, I will cover our expenses. Sir Kate will recompense us later.”

“Ok. If it’s something cheap for some social level strata whatever, then how’re you paying for it so easily? I’m looking at some of these prices, and it’s more than a couple months wages.”

We were currently reviewing several artificed lantern-stove combinations at the Artificer Union’s central outlet. The prices were somewhat costly, not prohibitively so. At least not when I factored in my ill-gotten gains from my discretionary activities. I found one in particular that promised better heat control and efficiency with the expense being fewer lumens generated. Due to the fact that it required fewer Chargers to operate, the price tag was a bit more expensive, but a few hundred Chargers at least. I pointed it out to Marianne all the same.

She glanced at the price-tag and shuddered. “Like that one,” she said. “Way too expensive for a short little jaunt.” In a quieter tone she added, “Even if it is to the Under…”

I shrugged and picked the lantern-stove up for myself, knowing that the cost would be well worth it if I ever was required to return to rough living.

“We still need to get the bedrolls,” I said. “Too much of our time has already been spent shopping around for an appropriate deal. At this rate, we may find ourselves on an excursion with half of our requisite supplies missing.”

“Ugh,” Marianne complained. “Fine. I’ll just use your stuff anyways.”

“Not my bedroll,” I said with a firm voice. Marianne gave what could politely be called a begging stare. I groaned and reaffirmed, “No. No I will not share that with you, there is only room for one occupant at a time, and it is unlikely that we will be sleeping in shifts.”

“Well, no–” she turned away with a blush “-course not.”

The next vendor we visited, as the interior of the current shop was structured more as an interconnected mall, just so happened to be one to sell high quality mats and sleeping bags, or bed-rolls if the two were combined. It seemed lackadaisical, but I would not protest their customs.

As I had already experienced sleeping rough without any comfort upon hard stone and cold lichen, I refused to pinch any pennies in this instance. While Marianne gravitated towards the economical end of the store, I went towards the other end, the one with wool, supple leather, and some sort of alchemically produced foam padding.

I finally selected one for the price of twelve hundred Chargers, not quite the most expensive one, and my diminutive size also helped to reduce the price further. As I had finished and was ready to proceed, I was forced to wait on Marianne who seemed to be agonizing over several bedrolls hovering around the cost of one to three hundred Chargers.

“You are agonizing needlessly, Marianne,” I chided her. “Simply select the one you can live with and I will pay for it. Sir Kate will reimburse me. You have no need to fear being in anyone’s debt, as this is all to support Sir Kate’s expedition. The onus to foot the bill rests with her.”

“I know that,” she said. “But… I just hate putting you out the Cee.”

Her scruples left me somewhat confused. While a portion of me was curious about what drove her in this fashion, another, greater, portion wanted to simply finish shopping so that we could be on our way.

I still needed to drop by Laverna’s Cup, regardless of their most recent advisement to remain away from the establishment. It simply would look poorly and would leave me liable for reprisement should I fail to provide notice that I would be unavailable for a week, even though a contract had not been signed to say otherwise. I once again attempted to hasten the process along.

“While I have never been to the Under personally,” I said. “I can imagine that the space is cold, damp, and lacking in soft terrain. I believe the more expensive option is preferable. You will thank me for my advice, I am sure. At least if you follow through.”

She groaned and ended up selecting the cheaper of the ones she had been considering. I narrowed my eyes but said nothing further.

We went to pay the merchant, and as Marianne saw me easily pay nearly two thousand Chargers, all without any seeming concern for my purse, she frowned, blushed slightly, and glanced to the side. It was curious enough of a reaction, that as we left, I asked about it. At least I had planned to. Marianne beat me to it, speaking first. Far too much of her attention was on my purse.

“How?” Marianne asked. Her arms were crossed, her brows furrowed, and her shoulders hunched.

“I am unsure of–” I began to point out how unhelpful her question was, when she elaborated.

“-How could you?!” Marianne insisted, raising her voice. My confusion only deepened. What did Marianne know, exactly, or rather, what did she assume that was so offensive?

Her outburst caused several passersby to glance in our direction, which caused her to blush, but not nearly enough to make her stop. After I glared at the sole passerby that had slowed down to listen in and scaring him off with a flex of my false-arm, I turned my attention back towards my roommate, my friend, and person that I would count on, if I ever decided to count upon anyone to begin with.

“Do you mean, how did I pay for our supplies?” I asked, genuinely unsure of where she was going with this. I also disliked the accusation her voice carried.

Marianne, perhaps sensing the confusion written across my features, took a calming breath and released some of her tension and some of the tightness from her voice.

“The Cee,” she began. “How’d you get them? The only way I can think of is by…” she blushed and lowered her voice to a whisper “-night work! Turning tricks!”

A part of me wished to recoil. Internally, I did. But doing so would not be consistent with a previous narrative, as I recalled allowing her to come to that conclusion through an implicit lack of denial earlier. It was a far safer assumption than some of the others that she could come to. However, I had an out to this, or a diversion, I supposed. Several, in fact. But in order to select the appropriate recourse I would need to understand why this was upsetting Marianne.

“I will not say that I have performed anything so crass,” I said, hedging myself for future denials. “But what would be the problem if it were so? Does not your adoptive older sister sustain herself, and yourself, with the funds gathered through such means?”

Marianne scowled and blushed all at once.

“It’s not the same.”

“Of course not,” I said. There may have been some patronizing.

“She’s not dating the frost blighted Captain’s Daughter!” Marianne snapped. “What do you think would happen if she found out?!”

Ah. I suddenly understood her concern. Sir Kate would definitely come across as the jealous sort. And considering we would soon be spending a week in close proximity with the girl, I could hardly claim that she herself was my patron, which would have been my initial choice.

“I understand where you are coming from,” I said with a nod and a small but non-patronizing smile. “However, you have no need to fear this as I have not performed anything that Sir Kate would find… unwholesome,” I lied.

“Like what?”

“Unfortunately, that is not my indiscretion to share. But, should you value your life–” I spoke with seriousness “-I would not bring this indiscretion up near where Kate could hear.”

Marianne’s blush dissipated and was replaced with quickly paling skin.

“Of course it’s like that,” she said with a weak huff. “Nobles–” she practically spat. “-You might need to be careful yourself, Jackie. If she thinks you might–”

I held up a hand to cut her off from her imagined scenario. Not only was this fabricated, but the conversation was liable to attract unwanted attention.

“Think no more of this particular topic,” I said. “For both of our continued safety.”

What felt like hours later, we finished procuring supplies. We carried them through the checkpoint and then all of the way up Blossom Hill until reaching Ma’Ritz. There, I dropped Marianne off to perform her duties, and also to prepare the way with both Ma and Esmerelda. How Ma decided to cover our shifts, personally, I was unworried. I had largely outgrown the place, using it more as discounted housing than anything else. I could always find that elsewhere, afterall.

But as soon as I dropped Marianne and the supplies off, I turned towards my second task. We had wasted enough time shopping that evening was quickly approaching.

It was as I made my way to Laverna’s Cup that I noticed it: an uncomfortable itch emanating from the middle of my back. My false-arm tensed the tendrils spread throughout my torso, leaving my ribs creaking, my clavicle groaning, and a sudden dizziness akin to standing up too quickly, only much, much, worse.

The suddenness of these sensations left me incredibly wary. I could only consider what had brought this on. I found an overhang to lean against until the worst of the dizziness passed. I watched the few pedestrians also traveling the street. Other than several lingering glances of curiosity, none seemed particularly interested, let alone overtly hostile.

As my breathing regained its breadth of motion, I straightened and kicked off from the wall. I had already decided to continue on my course towards Laverna’s Cup, especially as I could identify no particular culprit for the ambiguous attack, if it even was an attack to begin with. For all that I knew, the perpetrator had been my false-arm; it had always straddled the line between helpful symbiote and infesting parasite.

I turned to resume my descent down towards the Chasm side of Blossom Hill.

A shadow passed overhead and behind me, a flicker of movement and naught more. It had come from the roofs of the buildings lining the lane.

The urge to immediately turn and pursue this movement was easier to resist than I would have expected. The curiosity came and left quickly, much more so than I would think natural. However, besides noting this oddity, I took no action other than following my previous course.

Afterall, what business was it to me if a shadowy figure preferred traveling rooftops; I could hardly blame them. And in the instance where this person or entity did intend me maliciousness, alerting them that I knew they were there would only reduce my options of response.

Hence, I continued making my way down the lane.

Allowing my senses to relax, ignoring the slight burning along my sinuses, I allowed my observation power to increase: peripheral vision required an unfocused sight.

After another block came and went before the shadowy figure overstretched and briefly entered my field of vision. They wore a purple cloak and their face was hidden by their shadowed cowl. While I was uncertain of their identity, I thought it likely that they belonged to the Vigilants. Not many would have the audacity to travel across rooftops in broad daylight, otherwise.

As my steps continued smoothly and without hitch, the figure fell beyond my vision once more. I had only gained a brief glimpse of them. It was enough to know I was in danger. Why else was I being tailed? If, indeed, it was as I suspected. Of course, I could be making much of nothing. Perhaps this shadowy figure was merely traveling in the same direction as I. The possibility amused me, though not near enough to completely ameliorate my concerns.

I considered what I knew of the Vigilants. I should have done more due-diligence regarding them, but I had thought my identity iron-clad. What reason would any of them have to suspect me? What would they even suspect me of?

The most famous of them was Velvetcall and Guesswork. They held seniority and led the Vigilants, at least in a loose fashion. They also owned the most worrisome abilities, which also contributed to their fame, or more likely, their notoriety.

Then came Indom and Vector. One able to force others to focus upon him while weathering most attacks without suffering permanent harm; the other some form of poisoner.

The most recent pair to join the Vigilants were also the least well known, Jubilance and Flicker. Other than creating constructs of hard light, not much was known of Jubilance. Less was known of Flicker, except that they were fast.

The Vigilants all operated in pairs, a Radiant and their Shadow. It served more for their branding and aesthetics than any practical purpose, but such was the Princess’ prerogative.

My stomach began churning for no apparent reason. Perhaps stress. Having a vigilant tail me was stressful; such a visceral reaction would not be unusual. But I thought this one was worse than the situation would demand, and I thought that I knew why. It was because the Vigilants belonged to Princess Marissa.

A chill ran down my spine and my tail-bone began throbbing fiercely.

That gave me pause. My sinuses still ached. My bones felt confined. My toes trapped… even my breasts, while never of an ungainly size and always bound tight, even then, they felt saggy and awkward and altogether alien.

What was happening? My Guise had never failed before, except to leave me with certain cravings for raw and red meat. And certainly it left me weaker for its sustained activation, but never so much as to cause such sharp pains, at least not unless I was actively donning or doffing it. Of which I was doing neither.

So then, why? Why was this happening now? Was it the Vigilant’s doing? Or something else?

My parasitic false-arm had not been exonerated of blame either.

As I sought to identify the source of malaise, once more the figure crossed my field of vision as they jumped an intersection.

While they soon passed out of sight, I was able to see that they wore a familiar mask. And while I could not say with much certainty which of the Vigilants they were, given their stature and color choice, and design of their white phantom-esque mask, I thought it likely that this was Guesswork.

Worrisome, of all the Vigilants to tail me, this was one of the worst.

She was a psychic, although not nearly as powerful as Belobog, at least according to Belobog’s own assessment. Belobog was able to pick up on some surface thoughts, should they be loud enough. More often, she could perceive emotions in some sort of localized but omniscient sixth sense. And of course, she could also affect surface thoughts and emotions, at least to some extent, although not with any degree of precision or delicateness.

My arm began itching in the familiar way it did when a Mark was about to grow. Without looking, I thought it likely to be my Flexibility Sigil. This might have explained the steadiness that I felt. For while I was feeling unease, it largely stemmed from my physical discomfort, which had a much different flavor than the fear of exposure and entrapment.

Even with the Mark, I needed to lose my tail. At least if I wanted to continue on to Laverna’s Cup. I supposed I could always reverse my course and return to Ma’Ritz, although to make such a sudden turnabout might be found suspicious, at least if I lacked a reason to have made it all this way to begin with.

Another block came and went, and I caught sight of a quant looking tavern, one carved into the slate hillside itself, located as an externally accessible basement below another storefront. The stairs leading down were kept clean, and the frosted glass of the door was marked with gold lettering. Without so much as a second thought, I altered my course and squeezed past a loitering couple to descend the stairs and enter the tavern.

Just after I stepped inside I suffered another wave of pain. It appeared I was not the sole one to suffer, as my false-arm twitched and coiled as though in preparation to lash out before spasming and partiall ylosing cohesion. As it had tendrils spread throughout my body to anchor itself, its spasming only worsened my pain.

I may have stumbled a step. My false arm appeared to writhe and lengthen even beneath the sleeve of my jacket. Were it not for the dim lighting of the tavern I was sure to have garnered unwanted attention. As it was though, I made it to a stool at the bar before collapsing into it as though I were a much heavier drunk.

The barkeep, at least, was amicable enough.

“Seems like you’ve had a day,” he said.

I shrugged, not quite trusting my voice just yet to respond. When I failed to respond verbally, he merely shrugged the slight off.

“What’re ya having?” He asked.

I nodded towards a tapped barrel and fumbeled a Charger onto the bar-top.

“Ale it is,” he said, pouring a tankard before sliding to me. “Call if you need something. I feel like you’re not in a chatty sorta mood.”

I nodded in thanks. He pocketed the Charger which was worth at least double the tankard he served, before he ambeled a few steps away and granting me the semblance of peace.

I took a pull off the tankard to at least appear normal, but just after the foam met my lips another wave of pain traveled down my spine and seemed to travel a bit further besides, almost as though my spine were protruding from my skin, almost as though my Guise was reverting. This was unprecedented. My right arm burned and tingled but that was hardly noticeable over everything else.

The ale spilled down my front.

My expression was pained, but I hoped it came across as irritated.

I caught the barkeep’s eye as ale spilled down my chin and the front of my shirt and saw him wince. I did not trust myself to speak, my tongue was beginning to feel too long and ill fitting and my cheeks began to ache. Fortunately, my question was obvious, and being on Blossom Hill, we were not in such an impoverished community that would prohibit a public washroom.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up a bit, and I’ll pour you a fresh one, on the house. It’s down on back,” he finished with a gesture of his head.

I nodded in gratitude and almost stumbled as I dismounted the stool and began an almost drunken walk. While the tavern was hardly full, it made my drunken gait all the more noticeable.

“Bit early to be that sloshed,” one of the men commented as I passed.

“Probably a whore,” a nasty woman commented, likely jealous I had taken some of the attention off of herself.

I would have rolled my eyes at that, or commented on her choice of companions. But as it was, I barely managed to hear her. My ears were ringing and burning and almost twitching.

By the time I reached the washroom and shut the door behind me, my ears were definitely twitching.

Fortunately, the washroom was empty when I entered, not that I had the wherewithal to perform a thorough check. I glanced about as I shut the door behind me then slumped back against it holding it shut.

Sweat had begun running down my forehead. By this point, the pain was worse than a session with an Inquisitor. At least in torture, pain was localized or understood. One knew exactly what was happening and why. But currently, I was hurting everywhere, and I had little idea as to the cause.

It seemed that every bone of my body was shifting.

It was getting worse.

Another wave, another gasp. A shudder ran through me. My knuckles and jaw cracked.

Mother take it!

The pain overwhelmed me and I took the one action I could think of to ameliorate the pain, even if that action seemed incredibly foolish.

My Guise began to revert, and while the transformation ordinarily brought discomfort, in this instance, I found only relief. Normally the change would take minutes to complete. This time, it seemed to move somewhat faster, as though my body were eager to escape its human form.

If it was my Guise that had been the issue to begin with, that did leave me wondering the reason. I could not imagine fates much worse than feeling such a degree of suffering, always increasing and never abating.

My spine lengthened and my tailbone began pushing against my pants. I reached behind and fumbled with a button to make space, but found my fingers slipping as my nails sharpened and grew. My height increased and my chest shrank. My bodice hung loose and awkward. Lavender fur grew and hid my skin completely, silky, long, and particularly lush about my neck in an almost mane.

The almost-mane was new.

My nose and mouth elongated and began dominating my vision as they became a snout. Whisters itched. My sense of smell grew and I caught whiff of my own scent-glands. My vision shifted, grew sharper, more focused, and less colorful.

The creaks and cracks and groaning flesh seemed deafening as my ears shifted upward.

Even more deafening was the knock that came at the door when somebody made an abortive attempt to open it.

They spoke and I recognized the voice as the barkeep, likely coming to check on me, or perhaps someone had reported strange noises. Either way, I was not prepared to escape just yet. My tongue finished lengthening, but my tail was still expanding and my ankles and feet were shifting awkwardly.

“Everything okay in there miss? Been in there a bit, yeah. Ales getting warm.”

I still needed more time. A silence would rouse suspicion and likely see him pushing to enter. I took the risk to speak, and found my voice somewhat changed and raspier than before. I found myself thankful that he had not the chance to hear me speak, as there was a stark difference from before and after.

“I-it was a b-bit worse than I thought,” I managed to bite out, my tongue catching on my canines; some sounds required more effort than others. I had forgotten how irksome speaking with a muzzle could be, and I decided to practice further in case this situation came up again. I continued. “But I’ll be out soon. Keep the flies outta my drink, yeah?” I finished with an informal twang, attempting to garner sympathy by mirroring his mannerisms.

“Sure, sure. Holler if you need me.”

He stepped away from the door and I could hear his footsteps as he made his way back behind the bar. I could hear so much more than before. It was as if there were an explosion of sounds. Even the couple loitering out front spoke loudly enough that I could nearly hear them plainly.

Since when had my hearing improved to such an extent? I had to wonder the cause of this.

Seconds later, my transformation ended and was shifted my bodice to tighten it against my flat chest. I finished securing my pants about my tail as well. My boots felt awkward with they new shape my feet took, and it was tempting to take them off altogether. But then I would be required to carry them, and I was unsure if I wanted to feel the sticky taproom floor against my bare feet.

I decided to leave the boots on for the time being.

Instead, I focused on my plan to escape the tavern without raising a fuss. Fortunately, with my Guise dropped, my stores of Spirit were increasing rapidly. Which meant I could once more cast Illusions without frugality.

I knew just what I needed as well. My canines revealed themselves in an almost smile that came across as more of a snarl. I would need to work on expressions, but later.

“Illusion.”

Shadows seemed to flicker across the floor as they conglomerated upon myself. It felt much more potent than before, and I could not be certain if I was solely misremembering how my Illusions looked, or if something else had changed to affect them. Regardless of the reason, my form was completely obscured with a camouflaging shadow that almost seemed to writhe and match my surroundings.

Trusting in my Talents for Stealth, I cracked the door, confirmed none was immediately beyond and waiting, and I slipped through.

I moved quickly, hugging the far side of the tavern near the seedy booths.

The barkeep kept glancing towards the washroom as he cleaned the same mug over and over.

The nasty woman was sneering and laughing with an unflattering bray.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Another man glanced her way, eyes passing over me as I moved. I tensed, but he just glossed over me, ignoring me.

That was not from my Illusions, I thought. More likely, my Talents towards Stealth and Evasion. And even should his eyes pass over me, the tavern was still dimly lit, while the braying woman was illuminated by a lantern over her table. It made sense that he failed to detect me, even if I had thought there was something more involved.

I reached the entrance and slipped through, not even pausing when the bell rang.

The couple was still loitering, but were enamored with their discussion. I slipped between them, leaving a breaze in my wake.

One of them noticed, the other sneezed. The next second I was sprinting down the sidewalk, keeping close to the buildings, gaining distance quickly. Another second. I risked a glance behind. None were following, at least not overtly.

But the sky was still light out.

A shadow moving along the street would be noticed, even in the gloomy light.

I hoped that the Vigilants were not watching this particular corner of a building and I climbed, scurried, perhaps nearly flew, up the wall, ascending faster than I had ever done before. I caught myself wondering just how much faster I could have been had my feet been bared and not crammed into ill-fitting boots.

I cleared the rooftop and took in the surroundings.

Several buildings down, I saw Guesswork watching the back of the tavern. Which implied someone was watchingthe front. Evening was not far off. Shadows were growing more frequent. My mind was constant and flat, thanks to Flexibility, I was sure.

I sprinted and cleared the intersection and the next before I felt my reserves of Spirit run dry and dropped the cloak.

By then I was moving quickly, taking full advantage of my tail, my light weight, and my Talents.

Now, more than ever, I needed to reach Laverna’s Cup. My Guise had never failed before. I was unsure I could continue maintaining my existing life. I knew no other I could ask and received help from.

Two blocks from Laverna’s Cup, I found a corner between a turret and a balustrade and took stock. There I crouched, hidden from below and blending with the turret’s shadow. There I remained, perhaps fifteen minutes, but no less than ten. My delay there allowed me to verify I had long since lost my tail.

Of course, I had already thought that this was the case, but better to pause and confirm than to hurry and fall victim to an untimely surprise.

As I crouched there and listened, I marveled at just how much I heard, smelled, saw, and felt. The city was alive with greetings and lively conversations coupled with scents of cooking as dinners were prepared.

After some time, I decided I had wasted enough of it and I ran the rest of the way to Laverna’s Cup, pausing once more across the street and atop a roof.

Other than a woman walking before her pet Kunbeorn. In all fairness, the Kunbeorn appeared well groomed and cared for, not that a compassionate enslaver was necessarily better than any other kind.

But when I saw the Kunbeorn, I froze and watched with bated breath, worried that the slightest movement or sound would betray my presence, even if they were on the pedestrian walkway and I was several buildings away on top of a roof. A part of me felt loathing. Despite the fact that the humans practiced slavery, it was easy to forget that fact. In fact, I preferred forgetting that fact.

My own neck itched in empathy when I saw the silver collar about this Kunbeorn’s neck. I doubted that the Kunbeorn would betray their master on behalf of some unknown variable. I doubted that the Kunbeorn would appreciate that others within the very same city, of the very same non-human status, enjoyed their freedom.

I doubted that this Kunbeorn even wanted my help. Why would I even consider such? I pushed these intrusive thoughts aside and continued my observation as they continued walking away from my position.

While I could not make out the Kunbeorn’s face, I saw their cheeks and ears twitch. I could imagine them tasting the air with their whiskers, if their biology worked that way. I was unsure of just where the differences lay between myself and the typical, cat-like beast people. Our tails were different, my ears longer, my muzzle sharper, and our hindlimbs were constructed differently, with my own seeming to have an extra joint in the ankle.

Again, intrusive thoughts. Unwelcome and unhelpful.

The woman and her pet turned the corner, now exiting my range of sight. The street remained empty otherwise, and I could spot no evidence of bystanders or hidden observers.

Despite the street appearing deserted, I took no chances. I cloaked myself in an Illusion once more and jumped from the roof. Wind whistled through my fur and my tail acted instinctively to control my descent. With my weight reduction Talent, I barely noticed the impact when I hit the street and I finished darting over towards the entrance to Laverna’s Cup.

Before opening the door, I placed my ear to it, sparing several seconds to listen. I only heard one person, although I supposed another could be there as well with subdued or silent vitals. I also found myself surprised when I was able to hear what seemed to be a heartbeat.

Had my senses always been this grand?

Perhaps I could test them out later, when I was not exposed on the side of the street.

My Illusion remained up, just in case I had failed to detect an inhabitant besides Joe, and I pushed into the dimly lit tavern, of an obviously worse quality than the previous tavern I had visited. Despite the gloom, my eyes adjusted to the shadows instantly and confirmed that there was only Joe serving as the sole occupant.

Joe frowned at the door, his eyes glancing off of my shadowed form before returning. He frowned. The door shut behind me, better covering me now that I was not silhouetted. His eyes darted to my left and right, seemingly having trouble staying upon me. As he was arguably an ally, I allowed my Illusion to drop. I made my way towards the bar.

“Unexpected,” Joe said. His voice remained neutral, unaffected by ire nor pleasure, although I only had reason to believe he would be feeling some annoyance at my presence. The fact he sounded absent of all emotion helped to confirm some of my suspicions regarding the man. “You were to remain at a distance and refrain from suspicious activity. What reason do you have for coming here so brazenly?”

For some reason, perhaps the freedom of dropping my Guise, perhaps the endorphins from surviving a tremendously painful event, I found myself speaking with irreverence, coming across as colloquial. Tonight was seemingly just full of interesting observations and self-discovery.

“Be at ease, Joe. Today has been a trial, and arriving here and now seemed appropriate. At the very least, the least bad option available to take.”

“Explain.”

It failed to escape my notice that Joe’s hands were resting palm side up beneath the underside of the counter.

I came and leaned against the bar where i could quickly drop down for cover, should he prove hostile. My ears twitched at even the slightest sound, even the footsteps along the other side of hte street. My whiskers felt every current of air, and I could smell Joe, he faint scent of ozone, and then the overpowering scent of spilt ale gone sour.

My true-form came with benefits that I had forgotten while suffering under my Guise. My tail and paws felt far more natural than the human counterpart, akin to removing a too-tight bra at the end of the day. Why I had forced myself to endure a Guise, I was unsure. Granted, having the body of a beast was somewhat different, but it was not as though I could clearly remember my original body, and the only comparison I had to a human form came with a gnawing itch.

All of this had been passing through my head as I hopped roofs and kept to the shadows. I had no fear of being followed. I left no tracks, and with my stealth, my Illusions, and my flexible mind, I had every confidence in avoiding Guesswork. Likely, she still thought I remained in the tavern I had ditched my Guise in. The thought of her scratching her head in confusion after wasting several hours watching that establishment was somewhat amusing.

Joe snapped his fingers before my face. My eyes honed in on the movement, my pupils narrowed to slits, and my ears pressed backwards. That had been louder than comfortable.

“Head in the game,” Joe said. “Wouldn’t want somebody to walk in and see you this way, now would you?”

He was resuming his facade of friendly behavior, though not well enough to convince me of his merriment. Likely the choice to lightly don this facade was intentional. I doubted the man truly felt emotions, at least not as an ordinary human would. Emotions came with a stink, and he lacked that altogether.

“I would detect anyone approaching before they entered,” I said.

Joe crossed his arms, having likely determined that hostilities were unlikely. That, or he pressed a button to alert the rest of the crew. I could not be certain either way, but having his hands where I could see them brought some relief.

“A needless risk, still.”

“Perhaps,” I said.

“And you still haven’t explained why you waltzed through the front door looking like–” he paused to obviously look over my form “-that. In that form I mean. Not that the form itself is a problem, but the attention it would draw is.”

“I arrived unseen,” I said simply.

“A needless risk, still. You could have, should have, entered through the back, or the roof. There is an entrance up there.”

I blinked. “I had not known of the access through the roof.”

“Hm. But you did know of the door in the back.”

“I did, and I also knew that I lacked a key,” I said.

“Please,” he said. He allowed a space, as though he considered and decided against scoffing, before continuing. “As if a locked door would prove any barrier to you. You wouldn’t be much of an interest to us if that was so.”

There was an implicit threat there, I thought. Either I was incapable and in danger of obsolescence, or I was capable and requiring discipline. But as it remained implicit, I could hardly dispute the threat without acknowledging it and granting it some semblance of existence. I chose to ignore it altogether, at least for now. Instead, I explained myself.

“Picking the lock still would have required a moment, and doing so would risk exposure as well. It would have taken longer than slipping through the front under Illusion, which was hardly a risk at all. You yourself confirmed the efficacy of my skills.”

“Use the sky-light next time,” he said, letting the manner of access drop, likely the best I would achieve in this almost-argument. He then clicked his tongue in disapproval, although his tone shifted upwards slightly, growing a fraction friendlier than just seconds prior. “Why travel looking like you do, anyways? It must have been intentional, and I had not thought you one to flaunt your… baser, nature.”

My eyes narrowed at the possible slight. I had not thought Joe to be the sort to discriminate against non-humans, especially considering the Meohr twins. However, it may have been a ploy, to needle me and discover just where I fell in regards to sensitivity. I would not put such a minor test beyond him, though petty it seemed.

“And that is a question I would very much wish to answer for myself, as well,” I said.

His eyes widened as my answer caught him off guard.

“I had been traveling beneath my Guise when I encountered an unforeseen situation. I managed to make my way here safely, and doubled back several times to verify I suffered no tail–” as I said that, my literal tail swayed behind me and dusted my right shoulder, as if to remind both myself and Joe of its presence. I ignored this, and so did Joe. His eyes never left my own in an intense stare down “-however, the need to come here only grew with the event. Additionally,” I hurried to add before Joe cut in. “This was another reason for my use of the front door. Should my skills have been so defeated, would you rather the front of house be implicated, or the back.”

“Ideally? Neither. That argument is sh–” he began to swear, but cut himself off as my ears flicked towards the front entrance. Footsteps were approaching the door, a possible passerby, or a possible patron. I would not know until either they passed by or entered through the door, and by that point it would be too late. Joe gestured towards the service walkway that led further back into the building.

“Go find Belobog,” he said simply.

I nodded and ducked around the side of the bar towards the service hallway. But before I completely left the tavern, Joe added an ominous word.

“Jackie?” he said.

The footsteps stopped at the door.

“Don’t make this type of mistake again,” Joe finished.

The door pushed open, and I disappeared around the corner of the service hall, letting the door swing shut behind me as the newcomer walked in.

From behind me, I could hear Joe’s friendly voice as he spoke with a well practiced smile.

“Welcome, yeah?” Joe said. “What can I get ya? Some warm ale, maybe…?”

The reply was muted as I left the taproom behind and climbed the stairs up to the loft. A door slammed somewhere else in the building, a shop front or back-door perhaps, but not immediately in my vicinity. The sudden noise still caused me to almost jump.

When I pushed into the loft, I did jump.

“Sup girl,” Ay said, speaking louder than was strictly necessary.

I had just entered and had yet to take stock of the room. Fixing that, I scanned the loft. She was the only one with me, currently. She was lounging on a reinforced leather couch. Given that leather was sourced from Meohr, the fact she rested upon it with such a blase attitude was curious. I refrained from asking upon it as I was sure it would be a sore point, either from the fact her species were used as livestock, or because she was oft asked that same question.

Unaware of my observation, Ay continued after giving me a lazy nod, barely lifting her head from the armrest.

“What’re you doing ‘round here?” she asked, slurring only slightly. If it was a deliberate affectation, I could not determine, butI did notice that the scent of alcohol was faint upon her breath, not near so much to be overwhelming her ability to speak clearly.

“It was my hope to find Belobog.”

“Huh. Didn’t think she swung that way,” Ay said. “And ain’t you with what’s her face?”

That gave me a moment’s pause. “How would you…” I started to ask before thinking better of it and instead chose to correct her erroneous claim. “I am unaware if Belobog does or does not, but that question is unrelated to my purpose. I had hoped to discuss several happenings with her. Is she available?”

As I spoke, I needed to do something besides hovering near the door, and I decided to take a casual position at the bar. It seemed to be a theme for me and I wondered if the fact I had found myself at a bartop three times within the past two hours meant anything deeper than happenstance. But in this case, I thought it justified, as the bar had open-back stools. While I could likely find a comfortable position sitting on a couch if I tried, I was unwilling to embarrass myself by experimenting in front of Ay.

Ay smirked as she saw me twist around the stool so that I could rest an arm on the counter as I somewhat faced her. If she knew my reasons for sitting there, I doubted it. She could not have been that observant. To prove my assumption, she chuckled and asked for gossip.

“Oh? Something juicy?” Ay asked. Her long tongue made a somewhat lascivious gesture and left my stomach churning in nausea. I may have grimaced. Ay’s smirk grew into a somewhat genuine smile, judging by the mirth in her pigmentless eyes.

“If the topic was juicy or not would depend on one’s definitions. To me, they were inconvenient and worrisome. But to each, their own.”

She guffawed. “Uh-huh. Well, I might be into that, might not. I’d hafta hear about it first to decide, yeah?”

I remained silent.

“But… alright, just gonna come out and ask then. Why you lookin all fine and furry right now? Thought you liked pretending to be one of them…”

“Humans?” I said, finishing her thought.

“Yeah, them. So why?” She made a show of sitting up with a groan and eyeing me up and down. “Not that I mind of course. Just curious.”

“One of the topics I wished to discuss with Belobog pertains to that same question.”

“Why you wanna ask her? She wouldn’t know much. Basically human anyways, with some extra bits.”

I considered Ay. Perhaps I had been overly dismissive of her. While she acted like a fool, I knew as well as anyone that appearances more often ran false than true. What I wanted to ask was not exactly sensitive, at least no more than anything else that the crew already knew of me. I decided to try, rolling my shoulders in an almost shrug.

“As I made my way here, I found my Guise to grow unstable. The pain escalated until I allowed it to revert. This behavior was atypical, and caused some concern.”

She pawed her chin in an overly dramatic rendition of thought, but with a comical take. At least, I hoped that comical take was intentional. To be safe, I gave no signs of humor. She snorted and waved it off.

“You been wearing that human skin for a while?”

This was not sensitive information. Had anyone from the crew thought on this matter, they would have arrived at this conclusion. As it was giving nothing away, I nodded.

“And it just started hurting today? Nothing before now?” She appeared dubious.

I shrugged.

“Or maybe it’s been wearing at ya? Getting worse till you couldn’t stand it no more, huh?”

I remained silent, considering. Looking back, there had been signs of strain, irritability, and general shortness towards others. There had been some aches and pains that seemed to only grow. But I had blamed this upon my false-arm, and just generally being alive.

Ay was grinning now, as though she had me where she wanted. I thought that she was taking more pleasure from this discourse than she ought. It left me suspicious of her motives.

“Maybe you been having some strange cravings? Or feeling weaker? Joints feelin all tender-like?”

That observation felt far too accurate. This, combined with something she had mentioned earlier, made my suspicions double. Had she been spying upon me? How would I have failed to notice? What here her Talents, exactly, I wondered. I decided I needed to ask.

“How would you even–” I began, but she cut me off.

“I’m not blind, you know,” Ay said. “Not dumb, either.”

I paused, canting my head slightly, confused, before finally saying, “I would not correlate blindness with failing to notice these facts.”

“Ha. But I’d hafta be blind not ta see it. Least if you know what you’re looking for.” She stretched, yawned, and lumbered to her feet. “Well, that’s a nap ruined. Think I’ll go bug Bee a bit. You want Belobog, yeah?”

I nodded slowly while digesting what she had said.

“I’ll send her on in,” Ay said. “Go ahead and take an actual sit-down and get comfortable.”

I glanced at my tail as it swept into my field of view from where I uncomfortably sat upon a stool.

Ay chuckled.

“Pro-tip,” she said. “Use a pillow between your back and the couch. Should help with that.”

Then, with a wink, Ay traveled further into the Loft, out of the recreational area and into the hall where the crews’ private rooms were. I heard her knocking, but not her voice. It seemed she had simply knocked on the door and kept walking to her own room, or to Bee’s. Likely, Ay figured that actually telling Belobog was unnecessary. Likely, telling her anything would steal the enjoyment Belobog would feel guessing and then lording over everyone around her.

Soon, Belobog came back out. Noticeably, there were two emerald nubs protruding from her temples, They might have been the starting growths of horns. Normally she would have hidden them with a hair-band, at least when I had seen her in the past. Of course, the nubs were not nearly so large then.

“Yeah, haven’t needed to grind them down.”

“Are they always growing, then?” I asked. I was unsure of the species that Belobog was, if she was a separate species at all. It may have simply been a deviation. There may have also been other non-human traits hidden beneath her baggy clothes. A lot could be hidden with enough care and practice.

“Mhmm,” Belobog said. “There might be. And they do grow, way too quickly… But, it is what it is.”

“Does it hurt when you sand or grind–” I began to ask, unsure of the correct terminology to use here. She may have used a saw, for all I knew. However, before I could continue this train of thought, she cut me off.

“Yeah… but no. Much as I like talking about myself…” she paused, hugging herself slightly and shrinking in on herself, but only for an instant. The second I made that observation, she firmed back up and slipped back beneath a veil of confident nonchalance.

With her likely-feigned nonchalance, Belobog tossed herself onto the couch, barely denting the cushion. Instead she slid into the divot that Ay had left when Ay had sat up. She grinned up at me. I frowned in return. She rolled her eyes.

“So…” she said. “You got some good reasons to come here, yeah? Otherwise Joe’s gonna get pissy. Laying low was the client’s idea, by the way.”

“I had thought you were psychic,” I said. I had always wondered just how far her abilities extended, and if my Marks had grown to provide an adequate defense. It seemed that that point had not yet come.

“You thought that, and I thought you’d appreciate a sense of privacy, yeah?”

Of course, she might just be cold-reading with a dash of Talent assistance. At least, that was what I suspected was the case.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, babe.” Belobog was grinning now. It almost touched her eyes.

I would not be able to determine the extent of her Talents one way or another, at least not with this visit. Someday, perhaps. Rather than continue in speculation, I explained why I had made the trip.

“I have three reasons for having come,” I said.

“Uh-huh,” Belobog said, making a rolling motion with her hand as though to hurry my explanation.

I narrowed my eyes and took another breath in a pause. She smiled, but allowed me the small power play.

“The first, Sir Kate Gaurson has rather forcibly recruited me to join her on an excursion into the Under.” I took another breath and I saw her wince. “The excursion is planned to take up to a week.”

“Sucks,” she said, before chortling with a derisive tone that bothered me. “Before we get on to the rest of your spiel, I gotta say a couple of things that might come across as awkward. Might wanna sit down for this.”

Technically, I was sitting. I had ignored Ay’s advice to use a pillow and had remained on the stool, partially reclining against the counter.

“Alright, sure, guess that counts,” Belobog said. After the theatrics, she finally continued. “So, you’re acting like you don’t have a choice in the matter, that Kate’s forcing your hand. But you coulda said no.”

My mouth opened slightly. I tasted the leather and sweat and musk and liquor of the rec room. I also tasted the lack of deceit coming off Belobog. Not that she was telling the truth, but none of the usual tells were there. Her heartbeat remained constant, her posture remained relaxed, her coloring unchanging. My mouth clicked shut.

“Yeah. Just something to think about. Next, since you’re going there with Sir Kate Gaurson, daughter of the Captain of Southbridge’s High Knights, it might be relevant for you to know how some of the communities down there work. For context, High Knights are charged with protecting borders, particularly regarding commerce and smuggling and whatnot.”

I had already known this to be the case. Kate had explained the differences more than once, and I had since come to an understanding regarding the different types of government forces.

“Yeah, I know you know. But did you know smugglers are use the Under? That certain parties might be hostile to your butch girlfriend if they recognized her?”

I was not dating Sir Kate.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

My lips curled up in a snarl and my ears flicked back.

“Anyways, you were saying? Two more things to go, right?”

It took some effort to release the tension along my lips and to reset myself. Retaining a placid expression took much more effort outside of my Guise.

“Yep, we’ll get to that too.”

I may have growled just slightly before hurrying to speak before Belobog continued to irritate me and incite me towards violence.

“While traveling to here from Ma’Ritz, with the goal of informing you of my planned absence–”

“-good of you-”

“-I discovered I was being followed.”

“Wait-wait-wait! You were followed here?!I”

I may have derived some pleasure from Belobog’s surprise. I also felt somewhat insulted.

“-No,” I said with disdain. “As though I would be so foolish. No. I lost them. But why was I followed in the first place? And by a Vigilant no less?”

“Did you see which one it was? Any details? Mode of travel?”

“I believe it was Guesswork. If it was her, she was traveling by rooftop.”

“What about Velvetcall?”

“No. I did not see him.”

“I mean, it’s a bit concerning…” Belobog said before trailing off in thought. “It’s concerning, but maybe not so bad as a blown cover. They would have cracked down a bit harder if that was the case, or we would have heard something. It’s probably for the best you’re heading out for this excursion of yours. It’ll give me some time to figure this out.”

“Do you have any suspicions?” I asked, hopeful that I would have something more concrete.

“Just suspicions. You know the Vigilants usually go in pairs–”

“-a Radiant and a Shadow, yes.”

“-right. Did you know they’re about your age? Attending the Academy?”

I glared. “I was the one that reported that.”

“First of all, I already knew that. I just played your report up to build your self-esteem.”

My glare grew in intensity and she laughed it off.

“But here’s what I’m thinking. You got any jealous classmates? Maybe somebody’s got a crush on Kate? Or on you?”

Thinking of Kate’s brash manner, the only person I could think of that would be interested was Silverborn, but he was most definitely not Guesswork. “Like I said, I’ll be digging into this. It might be a lead though on their identities.”

That could prove useful.

She clapped her hands. “Right! And your third reason–I’m guessing this is why you’re looking like that?”

“Yes. As I dodged Guesswork, I entered a tavern. While there, the pains I had been feeling grew worse and my Guise reverted.”

“Ouch. But kinda makes sense. You probably noticed some differences too? Between now and when you dropped your ‘Guise’ last?”

My senses and abilities did seem further developed than normal. My fur felt thicker, especially about my chest and neck. I did not have such volume previously.

“Yep, you noticed. Alright, another quickie–a question, I mean a question.”

In the distance, I heard Ay cackle.

Belobog muttered under her breath, and were it not for my incredibly sharp hearing, I might have missed it.

“...perverts…” Belobog said in a grumble.

I ignored the by-play, uninterested in involving myself in such nonsense.

“So, yeah. You got that… arm? Sure, let’s call it arm.”

I glanced down at my false-arm, the symbiote, the maybe-parasite.

“Yep. Going with that. So that’s part of it. It’s making changes and prefers yourself versus your… not-self? Probably a better way to put it, but you know what I mean.”

“Would it not transform with the rest of me, in or out of my Guise?”

She shrugged indecisively.

“And would this problem not have occurred earlier?” I have had my Guise and my false-arm for months. This was the first time my Guise had grown unstable. It seemed rather sudden, even if there were signs leading up to this.

“Well, yeah, that’s true. Maybe a long-term contributing factor. The other thing’s probably what triggered the whole ordeal,” Belobog said, slipping in and out of her usual irritating tone. “And the second, more important of them. You got a new mark for the Grace Path.”

Yes, I had received the Mark. One of Courtly Dancing with an Affinity towards Treachery. I wondered if it was the affinity that made the difference. I had not expected the Mark’s affinity to turn my own Spell against me. If so, then likely an inferior material would have been preferable. As I considered this, Belobog continued.

“You got it while under your Guise?”

A wave of something coursed through me, similar to when a person received bad news. I found myself wishing that I had taken her previous offer to sit down. I felt somewhat unstable currently, resting atop a stool though I was.

Belobog looked sympathetic at least.

“And you so happened to fail mentioning this tidbit? You knew I was planning on receiving a new Mark!” I snapped, a weak anger, more akin to a frustration than anything, lacing my voice. Then, in a weaker voice, I added, “Why was I not warned?”

“We thought you were going to use the Skingineer. She would have warned you about receiving it while under the influence of… anything, really.”

Thinking back to that horrid Sacred Artist, he had made a warning. But Kate had been there. And I could have hardly trusted the Sacred Artist’s indiscretion, even if she had not been.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about it.”

I took several breaths to center myself. I felt some embarrassment over having blamed Belobog, having lashed out as a child would. The mistake was my own; I could have taken precautions. But, what was done, was done. It was time to look forward.

“What does this mean?” I asked. “Is my Guise still usable?”

Belobog nodded. “Should be. It’s just less stable than before. Maybe every once in a while, when it starts hurting, slip away to refresh it.” She shrugged. “Best I can tell you. It’s not really a science. But!” she clapped her hands. “It’s not all bad. Should be an equal number of benefits, even.”

“How?” I asked.

“You need to ask that?” she said while smirking.

Even if I had to figure it out on my own, I hardly wanted to beg for an answer. Especially after she said it like… that.

“Alright. Moving on,” she said. “Happier things and all that. With you heading down into the Under, this tidbit might be more relevant than before. You wanted the Alchemist Charson, yeah?”

The change in topics was welcome, if somewhat jarring to change my mode of thought.

“Well, it just so happens that we’ve found evidence that he’s down in the Under. Kinda convenient, you think?”

“A little too convenient, yes.”

“Well, you say that, but the Under is a very, very big place. It’s unlikely you’ll stumble across him.”

A pinch from my false-arm’s tendrils around my clavicle, a reminder of its presence, of its desires. How much it understood, I was unsure. But with it attached to me, I could hardly risk going back on my deal with Emboru. Even without the parasite, I still wanted my Egg back. Emboru still kept that as ‘collateral.’

Although, perhaps Emboru hanging onto it was a benefit. I had hardly seen anyone else with tamed animals. Meaning they were either incredibly rare, or kept out of sight through some cultural norm I was unaware of. And thinking of Emboru and the Wyrkwyk, or Mucary as they preferred… where had they gone? I would have thought they would have been an issue by now. Although given the lackadaisical government, it would be unsurprising if everyone considered the infestation to be ‘somebody else’s’ problem.

Belobog snapped her fingers. My eyes snapped to hers in turn.

“With me now?” she asked. “Like I said, lots of stuff is done there. Big place. Including Charson. Least from what I can tell.”

I wanted to ask her how she knew this, but given her penchant for theatrics and non-answers, I refrained and instead kept to a much more relevant question.

“How would I find him?” I asked.

“Look for some deviants and ask them. Especially if they have a certain… look about them,” she finished, her eyes lingering on my false arm.

“Are you certain these are deviants and not…”

“Infested?” she asked, amused but also not.

I almost nodded, but decided against it. Instead, I watched her warily. She blinked, then grinned. This did not ameliorate my suspicions.

“Yeah, pretty sure,” she added. “Deviants. If they aren’t… well. Might be time to start looking into moving.”

Symbiotic Parasite (aka false-arm)

4.3 Tendrils, approximately 1.5 yards in length, unspooled.

Talents:

* Athleticism I (3/9):

* Climbing I (5/9)

* Featherlight I (4/9)

* Inversion (2/9)

* Gymnastics (5/9)

* Stealth II (2/9)

* Trackless Tracks I (6/9)

* Area Coverage (6/9)

* Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

* Unnatural Concealment: (2/9)

* Eschiver I (3/9)

* Evasion I (3/9)

* Impending Sense (6/9)

* Lucky Break I (3/9)

* Chance Encounter (5/9)

* Courtly Dancing: Treachery (7/9) (+1)

* Flexibility I (1/9) (+1)

Spells:

* Illusion I (8/9)

* Touch (8/9)

* Guise of the Kitsune I (2/9)

* Malleable Form: 3/9 (+1)

* Passive Enervation: (3/9)

Gifts:

* Obsession (5/9)

* Closed (0/9)

* Closed (0/9)