Witch Hunt

Of course, with the blank check granted by the socialite, Alabastra could have chosen anywhere in the heights to stay. Yet, with her usual avoidance of wealth and its signifiers, I certainly didn't expect her to choose the Gilded Gazelle, of all places. More of a lodge than a hotel, modeled after an old inn, for the fabulously wealthy and their families to stay when visiting Anily's capital. The log cabin exterior contrasts with the paved road leading right up to the front door of the main building; a wooden lodge laid wide with a mountain-like roof assailing the air above in jagged peaks. Tall windows stretch from floor to ceiling, offering a view into the warmly lit interior: chandeliers down a cozy lobby that looks more like a reading room. To the side of the main building, smaller cabins of alike construction make up the rented rooms, and the entire grounds is inundated with towering pine trees, out of their natural climate here in the capital, maintained: as is the premises itself, by elven magic.

As we venture inside, an elf in a well-tailored suit eyes us with suspicion from his seated position behind the receptionist desk. He adjusts the silk green bowtie on his neck, and says in a snooty voice, "How can I help you?"

Alabastra smiles, holding the check between her fingertips, and says, "Two rooms, sivleth." I don't catch the meaning of the last word... My grasp of elvish is dubious on a good day.

The receptionist raises a brow. "Right away..."

The trio's leader steps close to the desk to settle the finances.

While she's out of earshot, Faylie looks up at Tegan, with a curious tilt to her head. "What'd ya think of Vail?"

Tegan shrugs. "I guess he seemed, uh... confused? About what he wanted, I guess. Kinda wish things hadn't moved so fast... Feels like we could've helped him."

"Yea..." The faun taps her thumbs together. "He was kinda hot though. Had that mysterious bad-boy thing goin' on..."

"Not my type."

Faylie crosses her arms, putting on a haughty affect. "Some of us aren't so limited."

The knight scoffs. She grabs Faylie by the waist, pulling her tight. "I don't feel limited..." The faun fake-swoons in response, faint hand held to her forehead, before she leans up to kiss Tegan repeatedly.

I glue my eyes to anything else to keep them off the display. I suppose I did ask to not be included in the banter...

Alabastra walks back, two keys in her hands. "Well, look at you two eager beavers..."

With a sigh, Tegan says, "Y'know, on top of everything, I'm kinda pissed you implied I was scary earlier."

Gait slow and exaggerated, Alabastra closes the gap between the three. "What, to that Partisan back there? Hun, big beautiful dyke in armor - he woulda ran for the hills." She reaches under the knight's armor, grabs at the collar of her linens, and pulls her close. "But not to me. Never to me."

Tegan stares into her eyes for a moment, completely paralyzed, and the rogue looks like she's going to lean in for a kiss. The knight blushes, but backs away, stammering, "U-uh. Acknowledged."

Alabastra pulls her hands into little fists in the phantom space her girlfriend left, but nods with a bittersweet smile. "Ack-knowledged."

This is starting to feel overly personal. "I am still here, you know", I remind them.

The rogue turns to me. "That you are." She flips one of the keys toward me. I snatch it out of the air, reading the '13' engraved into the metal. "Plan is to get up n' at 'em before dawn, scope out Serrone's manor and pick up as much of their schedule as we can. If we're real lucky, we might even catch an opening."

Faylie whines. "We have to get up before dawn?! You're turning into a real dictator."

"Well, if you disagree let's put it to a vote. All in favor, say 'I'."

"I", Alabastra, Tegan, and myself all say, raising our hands. As tiring as their antics are, this does finally mean she's putting in some amount of hustle. I'll take anything at this point.

"Seems you're outvoted", she says to the faun.

Faylie pouts. "Democracy's a scam..."

We separate out to our rooms, the three of them locked arm-in-arm as they push into Cabin 12, giggling and laughing. I give an open-hand double tap across my face for staring, and enter my own room.

The interior is wall-to-wall with gold and brown wood paneling, and resembles a too-perfect ideal of a hunter's lodge. A chandelier constructed of deer antlers hangs from the ceiling... I'd bet that makes Faylie feel a certain way.

Red velvet drapes over the windows, wood log furniture with seats of leather or furs half-encircles a stone fireplace, and a desk with too-narrow a workstation waits patiently for me, an ice-bucket-cooled champagne bottle to seal the deal.

I walk over to the windows to shutter the curtains, then to the desk. Clearing off the top, my makeshift alchemy kit unfurls with careful movements, and I begin my work. I'll need an edge to be of use in whatever infiltration the rogue has planned tomorrow.

And I hardly need the sleep, anyways.

* * *

Not long after starting my work, waiting for a boil, I hear a knock at my door.

My gut turns. That had better not be...

I turn back to my station, hoping the visitor leaves.

They do not, as quickly a second knock pounds its way into my cabin. Fine. Perhaps it's only room service. I march over and pull open the door.

Backdropped by the night sky behind her, Alabastra Camin stands just beyond the threshold, rubbing the back of her neck, guilty and shameful smile on her face. Her hair is let down and disheveled, and she wears only the bare minimum pieces of her outfit to be considered decent. "Hey... How's the... brewing comin' along?"

I slam the door closed.

Only, it doesn't full shut, stopped by some soft and fleshy thing wedged in-between the door and its frame. I look down to see Alabastra's boot lodged into my cabin.

"Ow...", she groans.

I brush off the shake of sympathy at having hurt her accidentally with a wince. "Get your foot out of my door."

She knocks once against the side of the wood, spitting fast through the crack she's forced open, "Look, we don't have to do the small talk thing but can I please just say what I came here to say? Then I'll leave."

Of course, I should say no. Reaffirm that I want nothing to do with her any longer... but she'll just keep trying. I've already proven once that my resolve is stronger than hers... she just needs to wear herself out again with this attempt, and she'll give up.

I lax the door, though still keeping a hand on the handle, holding it there so there's only that small sliver. "Speak."

Her sighs echoes into the room. "I... I've been giving you space, because that's what I thought you needed... but... but Tegan's right. I should've just said this from the start. And I'm not just here because of her, I-" She breathes deep, shivering in the cold air. "I'm sorry. For what I said the other day - at the end, I mean, I know you're not selfish. And I knew you were hurting- are hurting, and... I'm sorry I haven't treated you like it. And we shouldn't have kept so much from you. My insight, our relationship, a lot of other stuff... I should've trusted you. I shouldn't have fuckin' lied.

"And... most of all, I'm sorry for pushing you. I don't want- fuck." She starts to choke up. "I only wanted to show you that the door was open, and I- I fucked up. I threw it in your face when we were heated and- Gods, it shoulda never been like that in the first place. I should've started helping you a long fucking time ago. I'm sorry I wasn't there earlier. I had years, and I didn't do shit, and that's on me. I've been a terrible fucking friend, and I just... I'm sorry."

Her voice gets lower, sounding now like she's speaking directly into the door, instead of through the divide. "I never wanted to scare you away... I- I didn't know how to help. And that's not an excuse, it's just... And... and you don't have to forgive me. But... but if you do, I promise I will be there. I am right here, and I'm not goin' anywhere. I wanna make this right." She sniffles once, waiting.

A pause takes the space, as I hold for any more addendums.

"... Is that it?"

"W-what?" She steps back from the threshold. "I mean, yeah I guess...?"

I slam the door closed again. An angry sigh rips through me, and I turn, making it two steps back toward my chair.

From outside Alabastra cries, muffled through the wood, "I'm not giving up on you!"

I guess she's not done after all. I turn back around, and throw the door wide. "Why?!"

Her eyes are glassy, puffy bottom lids. A... another trick... it has to be... "I... thought I made that clear..."

"Why won't you take the Gods damned hint?! I am done with you. I don't want your help, or your twisted notion of friendship, or your outlandish ideas on gender or society or whatever it is you're preaching. I just want you to leave. Me. Alone."

She crosses her arms, and leans down. "Well, lemme ask you why? I've think we've both seen each other at your worst by now, and I'm. Still. Here. And despite it all, so are you! If you really wanted to be left alone you coulda ditched us, or said nothin' at all. Don't bullshit me - I know under all those layers of hatred for yourself that there's someone desperate to get out. Someone I'm dying to meet. So why won't you let me in?!"

I practically snarl at her. "Let you in?! You are a poison in my system, Alabastra. Hemlock in my veins. You're nothing but a liar, unable to accept that your game is up."

Alabastra bares her teeth. "That's really all you think of me?"

My hands throw into the air. "Let us count the ways. You broke your oath, for one. Twenty-three people are dead, at my hands, because of you. And you never even apologized for it - because you don't care. You're a fucking sociopath."

There is a pause, as she swallows a hard lump in her throat, before she says, "I'm not going to apologize for something I'm not sorry for. You deserve the truth, and that's the truth of it. I am sorry we were in that situation at all, that's on me. I was... overconfident. And yes, it's terrible those folk had to die... better them than us. But what went down in that room...? Not a shred of regret. And if you have to hate me for it, I get it. I know. I broke our promise. And those deaths are on my hands, even more than they are on yours. I know all of that."

Before I can get a word in, she continues, "But you saved us. And more than that, you were asking me to watch someone I care about- fuck, someone I love die. Needlessly - because they were too in their own head to realize how much they had to live for. And I... I couldn't-" She stands up straight, wiping away a tear. "I wouldn't."

"And you broke your other promise..."

"Did you... not hear what I just said?!" About what... Exasperated, she says, slowly, "I told you, I never used my Insight on you since I made that promise. I haven't, and I won't start now, even after everything."

"And the things you kept from me..."

She sighs, searching for a moment. "I could come up with a thousand excuses for each one, and... and fuck I'm sorry that that's my instinct at all. Alright, I... I live in lies. It was my world for years. Sometimes I just... I fuckin' forget , alright? How much it hurts to not be able to see the truth. I own that."

"And... what you... implied about me."

Her gaze softens. "Never. I'd never lie to you about that." She takes a moment before continuing, sorting out her thoughts. "I know what it's like. To feel like you missed some fuckin' rule book on how to be happy. To feel fucking jealous. To want something so bad, but not have the words to name it... not knowing what the fuck is wrong with you, what that emptiness means. Like even if you did have the words, you couldn't really grasp it. Like you'd just be pretending, because that's all you know how to do." Alabastra takes a breath. "I know all of it. And I can't stand seeing you drown anymore. I just wanted you to know that it's okay to come up for air."

My eyes dart around. How could she possibly... No. She's lying. She must be lying. "You're just... you're trying to manipulate me. That's all this is."

She sputters, for the first time tonight seeming shocked. "Manipulate you?! Are you swallowing Lupine propaganda now? All this at the mere suggestion that you might be happier as a girl? I know I shouldn't have thrown in your face, but it's not shameful!"

"..."

"You..." She blinks. "... You don't think it's shameful, right? That I'm shameful?" Her voice cracks.

I stare off into the distance. For a while, we just wait, the weight of her words washing over us both, as her face twists in pleading.

My mouth contorts to say something... anything... but nothing comes out.

And then, for the final time tonight, I slam the door in her face. Not furious like before, but resigned and pained. An unspoked plea that she just leave. Moments stretch on into viscous and crawling time, as I simply stand there at the inside of the doorway. And finally, I hear her footsteps retreat.

My lungs release shaky air into the ether, and I can only think to stay there for yet a moment longer... I try to let even a single thing she said sink in, but it slides off, rain rolling on a glass window.

It... doesn't matter...

I collect myself, to finish my work. I'll need to sleep eventually tonight after all, it turns out. I shouldn't be thinking of that conversation into the dawn.

And perhaps I'll try to brew something for this damned headache.

* * *

My hands clutched a broken bottle, barely fitting between my miniscule fingers.

This is an early memory... I must have been eight or nine... Nine. According to the case worker. I had no reason to disbelieve her, but... I couldn't remember.

I'd run away. That was all I knew. That, and there was this feeling... that they couldn't find out, couldn't discover the dark thing at the center of my being. I needed to hide it, and I needed to get away so I could do that. Child logic.

I had tucked myself between two rotting boxes. The alley smelled rancid, stale and rotting, and a disgusting layer of muck coated the floor. The jagged edges of the bottle in my hands glistened with crimson ichor. I never learned the source. Balancing on the tips of my feet, elbows to knees, I rocked back and forth, shivering in the night air.

Despite it all, I was... calm. Alert, ready to bolt or act, but not panicked. Holding that broken piece of glass, I felt in control. Prepared. Sedated. Prepared and sedated and controlled... that was me. In the eye of the storm of chaos, things were still. Controlled and prepared and sedated; everything made sense.

Footfalls rounded the corner into the alley, and two figures entered the scene; a police officer, baton already out, and my case worker. Her name was Yasmine. She was an older human woman, dark skin, wearing small rounded glasses at the tip of her nose. Her face scrunched up as she tsk-tsked down at me. "Oh, Oscar... what are we going to do with you?"

'Oscar'... the name didn't quite sit right, but I supposed it was mine.

The officer said behind her, "Stay back, miss. He's armed."

"He's a child", she bit back. "A very troubled one at that."

Apparently this wasn't the first time I'd done something to this effect. I'd been told I had a reputation, for violence, running, and rambunctious and disturbed behavior outside even the expected limits of a child. I didn't particularly feel the urge to do anything of that sort in that moment... or many of the ones after. In truth, I'd only ever been told of my belligerent history... since this memory, I'd never felt any desire to add to it. Not unless I was hungry... but even then, that was a solvable problem. Yasmine would allude to me like I was a dog on a leash; one step removed from tearing throats.

I looked up at her, and dropped the bottle. There was no need to continue this charade. "Where am I....?", I asked, shaking voice confused and lost.

She pulled her face into a pitying side-pout. I'd hated that. Pity. I didn't want to be pitied... I wanted to be forgotten. "You're a long way from the orphanage... and I'm not too sure they'll take you back after... this."

"Okay...", I whispered.

Yasmine sighed once, shaking her head. "We'll... have to hold you somewhere for a few days, until we find someone that will... take you in."

"Okay..."

The officer said, "Well, we can toss the little guttersnipe in a cell, I guess...?" He looked over at me. "S'what we do to criminals."

Pushing her glasses to the bridge of her nose, Yasmine said, "He's not a criminal..." She sighed. "You men see every problem as a nail to your hammer."

He squared his shoulders, set off by what she'd said. "Ma'am, I can't let a violent thug roam the streets. You wouldn't understand, we have to make the hard choices." He stomped toward me, and roughly grabbed me by the arm. It wasn't hard... he could wrap his whole hand and then some around my malnourished form. He pulled me to my feet, and I yelped in pain.

"Stop!", yelled Yasmine.

"Come find us at the station", he said. I couldn't help but struggle against his grip... he was pulling too tight, clamping around my bicep so hard I feared it might snap. I tried to pull away, and he only grabbed tighter. "Stop fighting and it won't hurt!", he seethed down at me.

I looked up, vision shaky and blurred, trying to find some humanity in his eyes. It made logical sense, I realized. I went limp in his grasp, letting the man lead me into an awaiting wagon, where we pulled off into the night. I'd end up spending three nights in a dark, clammy, cold iron cell, but that officer was, ultimately, right.

It would have been worse, had I resisted.

* * *

The manor of Councilman Serrone is more modest than Forsyth's estate, though that hardly says much. Tucked between several buildings, the home is certainly well-to-do, but less sprawling, the end point of a line in a proper neighborhood with the homes of other politicians, magnates, actors, and athletes. The manor wraps around itself, creating a central courtyard within that an archway gives a peak into. Tall stacks of floors taper to a single tower standing corner-to-corner with a street intersection.

And this early in the morning, before the crack of dawn, the Sable Guard move as if sedated, yawning into their gauntlets, and fighting to stay awake through the tail end of their night shift.

We watch from the bushes of the opposite building, peeking between the hedges to observe. Faylie lets out a high-pitched yawn, slumped against the shrubbery and rubbing her eyes. "This sucks."

"Try to think of it as a... learning experience", Alabastra says, peering through a pair of binoculars.

"... What am I learning?"

She clicks her tongue. "If you have to ask, it means you haven't learned it yet!" The half-elf hmms to herself, ignoring Faylie's pouts at her comment. "Lotta guards, but they aren't very alert..."

Tegan shrugs. "This is a councilor's home. Isn't that the norm?"

Alabastra shakes her head, handing her spying implement off to the knight. While she peers through them, Alabastra explains, "Usually they don't bother packing this tightly around any one home. And why would they? After all, whole district's off limits, free of dirty little thieves..."

"They're expecting trouble", I deadpan.

She nods, not looking in my direction, bristling. "And yet the force is slackin' off. Means they've been expectin' that trouble for a while." The rogue puts a gloved hand to her chin, starting to pace. "Our second councilor this trip... and both're Lupine Party."

That is an interesting coincidence. For all their dangerous rhetoric and rabid groundswell support, the Lupine party holds only a small fraction of seats on the Assembly. Disconnected from politics as I am, even I know that. Still, it likely doesn't mean much. So the collection of rabidly violent extrajudicial authoritarians are likewise involved in less-than-savory back-end dealings... what a revelation!

Faylie starts to grab at the binoculars from Tegan, who swats her hands away. Her ears fold down like switched levers. Then she turns to look at Alabastra, a curious tilt causing one antler to dip into the hedge. "How old is the Lupine party, again?"

Alabastra looks up, tallying in her head. "Guess it depends on what you're askin'. They've got roots in some smaller groups... 'bout two, three decades back? Right after the Runeplague. But the full-blown party, with the wolves and the flag-fucking..." She starts to mutter under her breath, fragments of sentences, years, and dates, almost rambling. "Nine years? Roughly."

"Heh. Ruff-ly. Because of the..." Faylie tapers off as Tegan turns her head slowly to stare down at her. She laughs, nervously. Then, without warning, she snatches the binoculars from the knights grasp, and blows a raspberry to gloat.

"Wh- Allie!", Tegan exclaims, running to her leader for assistance.

The rogue only shrugs. "Nobody made you fall in love with a couple-a kleptos, Dusty."

I groan.

The other three stop, the mood smothered in its crib. An awkward beat hangs over our side of the shrubbery. Another twinge of pain shocks through my skull. Fuck.

Already I've broken my rule. I'd resolved after last night to stop interjecting into their conversations at all, to quit inviting their ire or interest alike upon me. Yet it just came out of me... I couldn't even help myself.

Tegan clears her throat. "Uh. So... Allie, what do we know about Serrone specifically?"

The rogue says, "Beric Serrone... been on the Assembly for... few years now? Always seemed like a scaredy-cat to me. Obsessed with his wife... Honestly, not much beyond that - he's not one for the spotlight. Not like I memorize every detail of every Common Assembly member..."

"But you... knew where he lived?"

Alabastra grins. "Well... I do remember the important stuff, hon."

Ignoring their conversation, I tap on Faylie's shoulder, holding my hand out for the spyglasses. She whines, "I just got them!"

"You're using them backwards", I deadpan.

"Oh." She looks down at the binoculars, then sadly passes them over.

Through the lens, I see the laxing watchmen, yawning, lazy and cutting corners in their patrols. They're already tired... An idea starts to form in my head. I hand the spying implement back over.

Digging through my pouch, I pull out a small familiar potion of pale blue soporific liquid, and a freshly-made ceramic sphere filled with billowing smoke. Carefully, very, very carefully, I pop open the rounded cork at the top of the cannister, and empty the vial into the swirling catalytic mixture.

"Watcha got there", asks Alabastra.

I reseal the ball of violent potential, and hold it out in my hand. "This will, I believe, subdue any in a large area. For a short time, anyways."

The rogue raises a brow. She cracks no jokes, beams no smiles. Only stares, passively. "Cook that up just now?" Her lack of geniality is strange... but exactly what I wanted, of course. Finally, some professionalism.

"And last night." I stand, dusting myself off. "But putting the outer guard to sleep hardly helps us once we're inside."

Tegan huffs, leaning back into the shrubbery, which swallows more of her than she was likely expecting. She pretends not to notice or care. "Then... what's the plan? Just hope we stumble across him without anyone spotting us?"

Alabastra looks back through the hole in the bush, then to her armored girlfriend once more, and this time, does indeed grin mischievously. "How ya feelin' about a costume change, Stardust?"

* * *

From the side of the building as the outermost patrolling guard rounds a corner, Faylie weaves a spell through the air. "VERTO", she utters, card outstretched, and in the center of the courtyard, a flash shines. Iridescent light swirls and folds on itself, like a mass of multicolored tentacles. The attention of the Sable Guard is drawn immediately, and they spring to action.

They shout for each other, and the outer patrolling watchmen come running, to see what's got the rest worked up. And as they all crowd into the courtyard, Alabastra underhand tosses my creation into the center of the yard. It cracks and releases its bounty. Immediately, infused purple gas starts to pour over the space, a cloud of opaque fog swallowing the guard. And through the fog, one-by-one, the vague outlines of the men start to drop to the ground, displacing the haze around them like fallen trees in a misty forest, as they're knocked out by the Subduant-infused smoke bomb.

Faylie quick-swaps the card between her fingers for one depicting a single hand wrapped in clouds, holding a wooden wand. "VENTULUS." She swipes the card from right to left, and the magical emanation of the hand points its wand forward. A gust of wind blows away the smoke, quickly as it came, leaving bare the slumbering Sable Guard on the floor.

I look down at the scattered sleeping bodies, dropped over this courtyard like flies. "That won't persist for long. Maybe a half-hour, if I'm being optimistic. Which I'm not." I am only so generous at all because the guard were exhausted to begin with.

Alabastra dusts her hands, looking down at the unconscious protection. "Hells, that sounds like plenty to me." She turns to Faylie and I. "Masks on, you two", she orders, pulling a black cloth wrap over her nose and head, leaving only a sliver of her eyes exposed. She tosses two more to Faylie and myself.

Grumbling all the while, I put the mask on, having to let my hair loose to do so. As I do I ask aloud, "Why are we not just disguising ourselves with magic?"

Faylie says, "Because that spell is hard! Who knows what's in there... I wanna be ready for anything!"

Beside us, Tegan, having shunted herself of her own armor, stored safely in Faylie's bottomless bag, now pries the metal carapace pieces off a guard of her size, pulling a dark metal helmet over her face. "This is a terrible idea", she complains, voice muffled and menacing under the dark steel bucket. "You know I suck at lying."

"Just remember your lines, babe", says Alabastra. "'I need to check on the detective. Everything's fine outside.' We'll be right behind you..."

"R-right." She straps the last vestiges of the armor to herself, leaving the slumbering guard in his linens. "Do I look alright?"

The rogue appraises her. "Definitely the hottest styx copper I ever saw."

"Don't joke like that", she says, genially. Tegan steps past us, fishing the keys off the guard's belt as she goes, and unlocks the door. She greets the unknown interior with hard footfalls, leaving the door open just long enough for the rest of us to slip inside.

The interior is a tight corridor of plaster, decorated to look opulent but without regard for taste. Console tables, gilded pictures frames, and soulless formulaic landscapes paint a picture of a house as a desperate status symbol instead of as a home.

Tegan begins to march down the hall, head darting side to side, as the rest of us huddle around Faylie. "UMBRA", she whisper-casts, Moon card shifting phases until it disappears into eclipse. The shadows of the surrounding areas cling to us, a soft blanket of night. Shadow magic... my gut turns when reminded of the similarities to my banished other-self's capabilities, but it is a lesser spell, and more convenient for the situation than full-blown invisibility. "Whew. Really giving my willpower a workout this morning..."

It isn't long before the hallway opens to a reading room, ugly patterned carpet in a two-story cramped library, branching off to other rooms further beyond. The second floor hangs over the edges of the first in a interior balcony, wooden arches like rows of empty gravestones. At the other end of the room, a Sable Guard stands at attention to Tegan's entrance.

"Is something happening out there?", he asks, voice younger than I'd have expected.

"Uhh." Tegan swallows. She had better not ruin this.  "I need to... check on the detective. Everything's... fine outside?"

The security sentry stands silent for a moment, the open face of his helmet giving sight on his twitching mustache. "Yeah... sure, okay. He's downstairs." I wipe a drop of sweat from my brow.

"We'll be right behind you."

"Huh?! We?"

Why.

Tegan fumbles. "Um, uh, I, uh. Me. Right behind you." If she could shake out of the armor she'd have left the metal in shelled chunks on the floor by now.

The other guard stares for a moment longer, and the tension feels nearly ready to snap. Then, he chuckles. "First day, huh? Don't worry, you're not alone - I just started last week. C'mon, I'll take you to him."

The ill-guiled knight sighs, and follows behind the sentinel. We stick to the shadowed sides of the room further back, under the blanket of darkness, as we wind through wide corridors, the entrance lobby, and a recently-cleaned dining hall. We reach another hallways, and sitting at the end of it is a black iron door with chains affixed to its front. The guard steps forward and unfastens the chains with two quick turns of a key, then swings the heavy entrance open with a dull thud into the wall. A set of stairs descends into a dark basement.

He takes a few steps down, then stops and turns as Tegan crosses the threshold. "Make sure to close it behind you! They really drilled that into me on my first day here."

"Uhhh..." Tegan starts to look back towards us, then stops herself. "Ye-yea. That makes sense. I'll just. Close the door. Behind us. So that it's... not open!"

"That's... how a door works!"

She moves for the handle, and freezes. What is she doing...? She turns her head in our direction, then looks back at the Sable, and whispers under her breath. "Fuck. Sorry, man." And in a rush, Tegan launches forward down the stairwell, grabbing the man by the helmet guard and slamming his head into the wall of the stone staircase twice. He collapses onto the steps.

Alabastra rushes forward. "Geee, Dusty, the hells was that?" She doesn't sound angry, only bewildered. "We coulda just unlocked the door, y'know..."

Tegan sighs. "Right. It's just... my oath. Never shall I choose Advantage over Loyalty..." She lifts the guard of her helmet up, revealing an abashed grimace. "Sorry."

The rogue chuckles, placing a hand on her lover's exposed cheek. "You're adorable."

I cross my arms. "The guard is hemorrhaging through his helmet."

"Oh! Shit", Tegan says. She turns, kneeling over the felled guard. Alabastra produces a spool of rope from her bag, how much of that does she have..., and hogties him, with an extra loop over his mouth. As she goes, Tegan pulls the man's helmet off, concentrating on the source of the blood at the side of his head, trailing over his face. Her gauntlet glows gold, and she stands. "Okay, uh. He probably won't have brain damage?"

"Eh." Alabastra shrugs. "These guys work for fascist kidnappers-slash-murderers. I think his egg could do with a little scrambling." She turns, and closes the heavy iron door behind us. A single torch at the bottom of the stairs is our only guiding light.

With cautious footfalls, we descend into the dungeon beneath the councilor's abode, steps echoing in steady rhythm.