#and people who aren't used to reading her body language don't recognize when she's approaching the boil-over point

[esleep]

percival is a bit of a velcro cat, which i'm not super used to. he usually wants to be Touching Me in some way when he naps beside me and will even shift positions until he can press a paw or forehead or nose into my arm. on the other hand, ivy usually prefers to just hang out in my vicinity without being touched, like an orbiting moon. she will sometimes nap in my lap, especially when she's cold, and she will ask for pets and affection sometimes, but she only wants a few head scratches and i have to watch her body language to determine when she hits her overstimulation threshold or else i'll get a hiss and swat (without claws, mostly, because she likes me) - sometimes it's right away, sometimes it takes a few forehead rubs, but it's always fairly quick. meanwhile i think i could pet percival for the rest of his life and he would never stop purring about it. i adore both of them, it's just so fascinating to see percy's personality develop and be such a contrast to the strange little alien cat i've been used to for the last seven years.

[primrosechronicles]

Sky Cotl x ISAT Fanfic!

Performance Guide and Siffrin (strictly platonic)

Summary: Rekindling bonds Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ISAT (?) Word count: 1951 PART 1 HERE

“Mom! Mom, hurry! The play is about to start!” You say, pointing towards the path leading to the Theater, where vibrant lights shine, the sounds of the people fill your ears as you feel your fate changing with each step you take towards the theater. 

You grab your Mom’s hand and hurriedly pull her towards the theater, she laughs at the action and taps your shoulder “Starlight, remember what the director told you? About patience?”

You nod excitedly “Yes I do! They said—” you clear your throat and try to emulate the Directors voice “‘For patience is key, the best performances come from those who take their time and let the magic unfold naturally.’” Your Mom giggles and ruffles your hair “That was pretty good! You’re really paying attention at those theater workshops huh?” 

You breathe in and out, the tension slowly begins to ease from your body. You look ahead at the Village Theater, its familiar silhouette becoming clearer with each step. Memories flood back—rehearsals, acting classes, script writing, shared laughter with your classmates, and the Director.

When you first step foot on the island, your memory of them becomes even more clearer with each step you took, and you honestly can't believe that your home was just mere seconds away.

Home.. Ha! That word seems so foreign to you now, you had a home before, but that was so long ago.. You don’t know what it's like anymore. You have a family, (not that you aren't grateful for them!) You love your found family, but that never really stopped that yearning feeling of wanting a family, a permanent home.

You stop walking, Do they even want you? Do they still consider you as family? You start to panic– what if they really don't want you? Oh stars, what if they hate you? You feel a large hand on your shoulder “Sif?” 

"Nervous?" Isabeau says softly, as if reading your thoughts. "Yea… it’s just, I haven't seen these people for so long, years… Decades! have passed for us, to them it’ll feel like only seconds, would they even recognize me? Would they still see me as family?” 

Recognizing your distress, your feelings buddy, Mirabelle, holds your hand. "Time may have passed, but family doesn't forget," she says reassuringly. "They'll recognize you. To them, you'll always be family.” 

“Just like we’ll always remember you Frin!” Bonnie buts in. “And, no matter how much time has passed, you’ll always be Family to us.” Odile added.

You smile and stay quiet, despite the reassurance of your family, it's still very nerve-wracking to you; you can’t stop the millions of thoughts racing through your mind. But, with your family with you, you know you’ll be okay. 

And so, with a very nervous heart, you all walk hand in hand towards the theater.

You see four people huddling around a person, from their body language, you assume they’re helping the Director— … “Director?”

They all snap their heads towards you, Your body trembles with anxiety; Lifting your leg to take a step feels so hard to do. it’s like all the strength from your body has disappeared. You try moving forward but it's as if a heavy boulder weighs you down. Stars! Why is this so hard? Harder than all the things you’re used to doing. because at least with those, you had some idea of what to expect. Now, you're stepping into the unknown, uncertain of what lies ahead. Bracing yourself, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

You see the Director staring back at you, their expression hidden by their penguin mask “H-hello..” you stutter, your voice breaking “do you all-.. Remember me?... I don’t know if you guys recognize me but uhm..” 

Your voice trembles and you avert your gaze from them. Your breath hitches in your throat. “I-I.. Used to take classes… here.. I’d tell you my name but… I guess I’ve forgotten my lines…” you chuckle pathetically.

“Astrophel…?” You look up, their mask now replaced with a quivering lip.

They move closer to you and wrap their arms around you “Director..” you whisper.

Stars… You haven't felt their embrace in ages; you can hardly remember the last time. It's almost unbelievable—here they are, holding you, and it's real. 

You start to hold on to them for dear life as you cry on their shoulder and your knees start to give out as your eyelids become heavy. You feel them carry you towards...

You slowly wake up, your eyes adjusting to the lights of the building. You find yourself on a makeshift bed made of pillows.

As you take in your surroundings, you see that you and your makeshift bed is beside the mini stage.

You gasp, you remember this stage! This is where the Musician held their music lessons! You laugh as you remember the Musician teaching an easy music sheet to play, but when it got to the actual recital, the Musician accidentally taught the wrong song to half the group, leading to a very chaotic performance. 

Sitting up, you gaze down at the floor below. You see Isabeau, Mirabelle and Odile conversing with the Director, nearby, little Bonnie is clumsily playing the kalimba on a table, using it as a makeshift stage. Despite the awkward notes, the rest of the performance crew cheer them on, clearly enjoying the impromptu performance.

You walk over to the table where the Director and others are at.

“Ah! Afternoon Astrophel! How was your nap?” The Director Asks. “Astrophel… Do they mean Siffrin?” “Maybe.. They look like an Astrophel.. I do wanna know what it means though " "You want to know everything about Siffrin, Isabeau…”

You notice that the Director has their mask on again and that they’re holding a book, you walk over to them and point at the book “What’s that?” 

The Director blinks at you “A book..?” “No- like.. What’s in the book?” 

“Oh! I was just showing your friends all the photos I took when you still attended my classes!”

….what.

“Siffrin! You were such a cute child back then!” Mirabelle exclaims.

What??

Odile asks “You seem to be wearing the same cloak as you did in these photos… do you even wash it..?” 

WHAT……….AND OF COURSE YOU WASH IT????????

“You look very edgy in your tween years though.. So much eyeliner” Isabeau observed, looking at the rest of the photos.

You lift the collar of your cloak to cover your face. Oh my stars! you can't believe he saw that…..

You see Bonnie walk up to where the Director is sitting “Frin when they were a baby? I wanna see!”

NOPE! You try to grab the book as fast as you can from the Director…but CURSE THIS HEIGHT DIFFERENCE! They’re hanging the book from right over your head!

The Director runs to the side of the table opposite from you. You run to the right side of the table; the Director goes the opposite way. And it becomes a game of cat and mouse. 

You fly over the table and he dodges.

“If you’re both gonna run then do it outside!” The Dancer shouts.

You see the Director give them a thumbs up before they bolt out the main entrance. Without hesitation, you run after them.

Exiting harmony hall you see them leaning on the building, book in hand. You try to get the book from their hand but they stop you.

The Director chuckles “Don’t worry, your emo phase is safe with me.”

“Then why even try showing it to them..?”

They think for a second “I… wanted to get an excuse to talk to you I guess.”

You blink at them in surprise. They raise their hands defensively. “You know, I find it awkward to ask people to talk. I know that sounds weird coming from me, but...”

They pause, then continue, “Even though my job needs me to communicate constantly, I struggle with initiating personal conversations. I always worry I'll come across as intrusive or awkward.”

You nod at that, finding what they said relatable. “Let's talk then?”

“Shall we go to Hermit Valley? I remember that little piece of land you liked to go to when you wrote your plays.”

You both land gently on the giant rock that sits in the middle of the sea of clouds. Before you, the sky is filled with the colors of the setting sun, casting a warm, golden glow across the ethereal landscape. You hear the sound of their mask drop to the ground.

“The sky looks so different now that those… shades..? Are here.” “Colors.”

You look at them; you see them looking back at you “What..?” “That “shade” is called a color Astrophel… or would you prefer Siffrin?”

“Oh! Uh.. Astrophel is fine…”

They nod and turn their gaze back to the sunset. 

A peaceful silence envelops both of you. You feel the urge to speak, knowing that's what they wanted. After a long moment of contemplation, they finally break the silence.

"I've missed moments like this," they say softly. “I remember when your mother used to have me babysit you… we used to go here.” They gesture to the rock.

They sigh “It feels like yesterday you were only thirteen.. But… It also felt like I was in that void for an eternity.”

“....thirteen years,” The Director blinks at you. “What..?”

“The… island has been gone for thirteen years.” you repeat.

The Director's eyes widen in shock and disbelief, and they stare at you, trying to process the words. "Thirteen years..." they whisper, the weight of lost time settling heavily in the air between you.

You take a deep breath, and exhale slowly, gathering your thoughts. As you begin to speak, the words come hesitantly at first, but soon they flow with the tide of pent-up emotions.

“I remember the day the island disappeared," you start, your voice barely above a whisper. "I… foolishly ran away from home because… I didn’t want to eat my vegetables…” you cringe “I.. wanted to scare my parents a bit… So I took my dads boat and then sailed a few feet from shore, then… I just saw it disappear.”

You glance at the Director “In the aftermath, I could not remember anything related to this place…”

“One day…” you continue “I saved these three people from a very strong monster. Because of that, they asked me to join them to save their country… and I did.. Because I had nothing better to do. Little did I know that these people will become.. My rock just like this one” you chuckle, patting the surface beneath you.

You pause, taking another deep breath, feeling the weight of your next words. “And then, there were the loops. They helped a lot at first… but when we beat the King… I realized that I was trapped. Everything after that was just me doing horrible stuff to get out of my horrible situation. Time became a relentless, unyielding cycle.”

Tears well up in your eyes, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s been thirteen years, and so much that i remember has changed. I’ve missed you so much. I'm so sorry to have forgotten— no… to have abandoned you.”

The warmth of their embrace envelops you. You feel their heartbeat, it reminds you that you are present in this moment; you lean in, crying into their shoulder. “Don't say sorry… you couldn't have known that the island would disappear…” You hear them sniffle. “And I’m so sorry I wasn't there for you… you shouldn't have gone through that.. The King.. The loops.. Having to fend for yourself at such a young age…” 

The two of you sit there, your bond now rekindled. The silence that follows is not empty but filled with warmth. 

A/N: YAYYYYYYYYY PART TWO IS FINISHED AFTER DAYS OF PROCRASTINATING!!!!

ugdhjdkjdxcnzkxjz this was so fun too write...

i was ubering people today and told them about my ifc... they asked for the link and they said theyll read it for their bed time story JKDAKDKNANKJX

aaaaaaaaaaaaand tysm for @kyri45 for being an inspiration! LOVE YOUUUUUUUUU

[curiousconch]

Escape

Chapter 8 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: Heather attempts to escape her captors. But will she succeed?

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 1.5k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / violence, language

Author's Notes: This chapter took me too long to complete, since I hit a creative block. Grateful for @eleanorbloom for giving me tips to overcome it (thank you! 🥰🥰🥰)

Thank you so much for taking time to read/comment/reblog this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song and an OC Jordan Anderson.

Heather held her tears at bay. Frankly, all she wanted was to let herself go.

But she can't. She didn't want to give her captors the satisfaction of seeing her break. When Declan Nash removed her blindfold, he thought it was enough to pulverize her will. Heather was determined to prove him wrong.

"I'll pick up the second dose. Start on getting rid of the pretty doctor first," she heard Nash say to the other man, right before he left.

She watched closely as another man approached her, his features slowly revealed by the dim light surrounding them. The hair at the back of her neck stood up when she recognized the face of her kidnapper.

Jordan Peter Anderson, the Edenbrook janitor. Pete, as he was mainly known.

Suddenly, it all made sense. That's how he had access to her things, how he can easily know her home address, her schedule, all details of her life without suspicion. He was just another face in the sea of people that came in and out of the hospital. A fairly common and trusted face, at that.

She just wondered how Declan was connected to him. She wanted so much to find out. But now, she had to focus on preventing herself from whimpering as Pete violently dragged her to sit on a chair. He tugged her wrists free before slamming them on a metal table. She instantly winced with the impact.

That was when she saw the back of her hand, where an IV cannula was attached to an exposed vein.

What the hell was he planning?

She found the answer sooner than she thought.

She followed his movement with her eyes as he picked up a syringe from a nearby table. It was filled with a clear liquid.

"I take it you're familiar with potassium chloride, Dr. Song?" The janitor sneered as she gazed in terror at what he was holding.

She knew. Potassium chloride overdose can cause cardiac arrest when administered via IV, and in overdose, was fatal. Her mind raced with comprehension.

He's out to kill. He's not going to spare me. This isn't just a game. Her mouth went dry, refusing to accept the possibility that she may not live another day.

Her hazel eyes can only stare at the man who was about to murder her. For a moment, she was filled with helplessness, the tiny semblance of hope in her quickly dwindling out.

No! I'll overcome this. This won't be the end of me. She willed herself to think. Heather Song is one hell of a woman and she won't come down without a fight.

When he was just a single step away from her, inspiration struck.

As he reached for her, she leaned her head back, waiting for the perfect timing. Once he was near enough, she braced for impact and gave him a headbutt. He fell down to the ground, howling in pain. Heather took the opportunity to flee, liberating herself from the chair.

As she tried to take off, a struggle ensued. She was instantly dragged backwards, the force nearly knocking her out. She felt a sharp prick on her neck before she turned and kicked the man on the groin.

He wailed. Heather didn't wait for him to recover and ran for her life, fear and desperation egging her on. Her bare feet heavily hit upon the concrete floor, as she removed the gag from her mouth.

"HELP! Someone, please help me!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, sprinting. Her bruised arms pushed back against the plastic tarps and navigated the narrow corridor blindly.

Soon, she saw an open threshold nearby. She decided to aim for it. When she was almost there, someone grabbed her from behind, making her scream. She strained to break free from the hold, only to be pulled back again.

"Heather," a voice urged. "Heather, it's me!"

She recognized the speaker, making her stop in her tracks. She turned around and looked back into the dark brown eyes of the man in front of her.

Rafael.

At the sight of him, an overwhelming sense of relief flooded her being. She leaned onto him, feeling his strong presence encapsulate her in a tight embrace.

As the panicked adrenaline to fight for her life slowly dissipated, a rush of tears stained Heather's cheeks like an overflowing dam. So she clung to him, convincing herself that she wasn't imagining him and that her whole ordeal has ended.

"It's okay, love. I'm here, you're safe." Raf whispered, his lips kissing the crown of her head.

But she wasn't.

She felt her knees begin to buckle, her whole body shook. There was a sharp pain in her chest, while her vision of Rafael slowly blurred.

The last thing she could remember was the gentleness of his touch, before her world whirled and faded into darkness.

***

He can only watch the helicopter that airlifted Heather to Edenbrook Hospital. When she was found, a syringe was stuck on her neck, and the paramedics suspected a type of poisoning. Her sudden collapse and the  unknown nature of what caused made the situation urgent, so the response team decided it was best course to fly. 

Even though he yearned to accompany her as she fought for her life, he was hastily denied that right. Rafael seized that away from him, taking it upon himself to stay with her instead.

He wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, to hold her hand, to assure her that she will never have to face horrors like this anymore. But fate wasn't on his side this time. It never was. 

So Bryce chose action. He first called in ahead to give Dr. Ramsey the few details they have on hand. He couldn't bring himself to follow her to the hospital. His mind dictated that he wasn't useful there. Instead, he made himself useful somewhere else. 

And there he was, standing in the middle of the crime scene as he hang up his phone. 

Here is where I can help Heather, he thought. I have to find what was in that syringe. It might be her only hope. 

His tired eyes scanned the floor, trying to pick up any detail that may be valuable. He walked around looking down, flashlight in hand, determined to find just about any kind of clue. 

He winced when he saw blood. Heather's. His chest tightened, anger rising within him. That fucking sicko, I swear I'm gonna give him hell. 

Bryce continued prodding around until he heard a soft jingling noise, making him stop. It felt like he just kicked something. He knelt down and found a torn plastic case and a clear glass bottle. He put on his rubber gloves and picked it up, reading the label. Realizing what it was, he quickly dialed Sienna's number and waited for her to pick up. 

"Bryce?" he heard a familiar voice on the line, but it wasn't Dr. Trinh. 

"Jackie?" he felt an immediate pang of worry, hearing the frantic exchange of voices in the background. But he quickly shook the feeling away. He had to focus.

"I found something that might help Heather. There's a bottle of potassium chloride where she was taken, it's empty. I think that's what the suspect injected Heather with."

"Gimme a second," Jackie said. Bryce waited as he listened to Dr. Varma ask for Heather's blood workup from a nurse. "Her potassium levels are elevated, and she's in cardiac arrest. This makes sense, Lahela." 

"She's in cardiac arrest?" A lump in his throat formed, his grip almost slipping from the bottle he was holding. 

"Yes. But we're trying to get her out of it. Your intel's gonna help us figure the rest out," Jackie said, and he sensed her hesitation before he heard her next words. "She'll pull through. So quit yapping and get your ass over here."

The line went dead. 

It took him five minutes to scale down the building, get into his car and hit the road.

***

The environment in the ER was charged by the frantic beeping of the machine, signalling Heather's ongoing cardiac arrest. 

"We've got suspected hyperkalemia," Jackie sprinted to the doctors surrounding Heather's limp body as she got off the phone. 

"Of course," Dr. Ramsey nodded, as he referred to the latest lab results. "A potassium chloride overdose would've caused her coronary infarction. It may have also caused her temporal paralysis, making her lose consciousness. Do we have her weight?" 

"Yes, Dr. Ramsey," Sienna dictated Heather's latest weight to the senior attending, allowing for him to compute for the correct dosage for the prescription. 

"Calcium bicarbonate for the IV, Kaley please," the male doctor handed a piece of paper where he scribbled the dosage needed. 

"Don't we need to do haemodialysis?" Jackie stood beside him, as she prepared a tourniquet and tried to find a vein where the saline solution can be injected. 

"No, we aren't too late, the potassium haven't bound to the cells yet. Watch out for other symptoms though," Like a well-oiled machine, Heather's mentor gave instructions rapidly, taking the lead role in her treatment. 

The nurse went back with the prescription and Jackie setup the insertion. As the liquid began to flow, they waited and watched the heart rate monitor overhead. 

It took a few seconds before the beeping slowed down into a steady rhythm. There was a collective sigh of relief.

Heather Song just narrowly escaped death. 

Tags: @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 6.5

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, Looseleaf and Saelhen fought their way to the top of the evil torture tower of the evil torture wizard- only to find out that the guy's been dead for at least a year, and that a dragon has apparently been squatting in his tower. Not content to wait another week to find out what this means, we had an off-schedule mini-session wherein the party finished exploring the unexplored nooks and crannies of Lumiere's Tower.

The first thing to deal with is the thing blocking their return down the stairs- there's a weird big metal coffin-looking dealie that waddled up to the stairs on the fourth floor, but couldn't chase them any further. Going back down, though... they could take a window, but they figure there's no way this thing could be a serious threat. It can barely move, after all- they can probably just push it right over!

Looseleaf pokes it with a stick, and its front splits open down the middle, revealing a giant maw of horrible spikes which snaps at her threateningly.

So it's an iron maiden! Adorable! Still doesn't have legs, or arms, so it's fine, right? They can just stand on the stairs and

whoops nope it's got animated canvas straps inside it that shoot out and ensnare orluthe like a chameleon tongue. okay. so maybe this monster is dangerous actually.

The ensuing fight makes heavy use of a mechanic in D&D called "called shots", where you can take disadvantage on an attack roll in exchange for inflicting some kind of injury on the opponent by hitting them in different specific body parts. They don't want to let Orluthe get shut inside and take a fuckload of stab damage, so they jam Looseleaf's quarterstaff in the doors, slice up its canvas straps, and by force of numbers manage to render nearly all its appendages impotent. The poor torture instrument has disadvantage on all its attack rolls after the called shots go through, and it can't land any more hits! The party eventually wears it down, and Looseleaf lands the finishing blow by scrambling its spirit.

All that's left in their way is the translucent red barrier blocking off the 3rd/4th floor stairs. Not finding anything on the fourth floor to shut it off, they just go via the window like before. Back down on the third floor, Looseleaf uses her spirit sight to notice that the barrier is connected magically to some runes inscribed on the central pillar- it looks like there's some sort of creepy puzzle involving stabbing creepy dolls with creepy doll-sized knives.

Not interested in risking whatever the consequences of solving the puzzle wrong are (given that they already have a way up and down), they move on.

While they're there, Saelhen decides to take another crack at the trapped chest she couldn't open earlier. Rather than risk the trap, she first spends some time expertly disarming the trap built into the lock, before working on the lock itself. A couple good rolls later, and they acquire the treasure! Which is... 60 gold pieces, and a piece of paper with a list of words.

Saelhen fails her Nature check, but Looseleaf recognizes the words on the paper as... the names of craters and other geographical features of the moon.

[WAR_FLASHBACKS.jpg]

No one's quite sure why a list of moon landmarks would be locked up in a highly-secure chest protected by a poison needle trap, but no one rolls high enough on Religion to puzzle it out.

Moving on down, they reach the second floor, which appears to be a laundry room of some sort. The sort where the irons and ironing boards and scrub brushes are alive, and appear to be washing the same clothes over and over and over to the point where most of them have been reduced to sparklingly clean rags. Seems like these animated household objects have been stuck on a loop for a good long time!

There's what appears to be an intact magical cloak hanging on a clothesline in there, but the party opts not to try and take it- doing so would likely provoke some protective laundry automatons.

Saelhen's plan to lure the scrub brush away from the washtub (for... reasons??) fails, since the brush doesn't seem to want to leave the tub- and it's visibly disappointed when Saelhen gives up.

So, they head down to the first floor, finally! As they head down, they're noticed by more animated knives... but it seems these ones have been tasked with cooking a delicious meal, which they happily serve up to the tower's guests! The wheelbarrow from before is there, too, supplying the kitchen with food. The only question is... who's been eating this stuff? Why is the table not covered in rotten, uneaten banquet, if the wizard's been dead? Who's been putting grocery money in the wheelbarrow?

Other things of note in the room...

Benedict I. (GM): The shelves around the center seem to be festooned with various trophies and awards. Looseleaf: trophies. what, like, participation trophies??? school trophies? piano recital trophies?? Benedict I. (GM): These would actually be somewhat recognizable to most of you- you've seen similar things in trophy cases at school. The plaques beneath them seem blacked out in various places- a lot of [REDACTED]. Looseleaf: warball champions of the 1034 school year? Benedict I. (GM): Often built into the plaques. Saelhen du Fishercrown: huh who redacts a plaque Benedict I. (GM): Like, there'll be a flat section of the plaque painted black like it was engraved that way

Looseleaf, with a 20, Investigates a bunch of pertinent information. For instance, a diploma:

Hal Lumiere, PhD in [______]. Blacksky University, Department of Restricted Arts

It appears Hal Lumiere was an alumnus of Blacksky's School of Restricted Arts- the same place Vayen is from. Lumiere was apparently something of a darling there, considering all the awards- but no one in the party has ever heard of him. Except maybe a certain someone who's not telling.

Looseleaf also finds some unopened mail! One is illegible, written in Abyssal, the language of demons.

(Lore note on demons: demons are just like other monsters- evil things that come up from below the mountains and cause trouble. They aren't generally aware of their origins beyond waking up in a deep cave, usually, and aren't motivated by much except causing conflict and hurting people.)

Another letter is written in Common, with just plain awful handwriting:

"hey Lumes why tf arent you home today u fuckin flake ass fairyboy. who am i supposed to get that dank good ouch from if youre off on magic adfentures. this months number shits are: 14.3 6755 304° and then the little bar thing was on the green side but wobbly. now gimmeeeeeee"

It's a bit of an enigma- but even more enigmatic is the third letter Looseleaf finds, written in a hand Looseleaf recognizes. Looseleaf knows who this letter was written by.

"Dr. Lumiere- find enclosed the new spirit hollowing diagrams and the corrected sigil of Aaaaaaagh. This should satisfy our agreement, so I'll leave you with a warning: the lesser gods are not to be trusted." "Yes, their revolution is our best shot at the Project- that much is obvious, barring a road to apotheosis. I understand we need to work with them. I doubt we'll have further contact, so I won't ask you not to reignite this argument- but insofar as it's at all relevant to you in the future, I favor your approach over Kron Green's." "But again, they are not to be trusted. The enemy of our enemy wishes mainly to supplant them, and despite their alliance, not all of them share the same aims. In particular, the one you've taken an interest in seems utterly hostile to the Project. " "If we are to impact the cosmic boardstate, we must play the game. Trust is the abdication of discovery. Choose your allies carefully." And then it is signed with a mark. The mark is of a book, facedown in the way that ruins the spine, sort of shaped to look like a skull. And the initials "Y.T." Looseleaf: youtube. the villain of our story, youtube. Saelhen du Fishercrown: trust is the abdication of discovery, what a goddamn motto Looseleaf: oh my god she's being so edgy well, that is characteristic of her.

She also finds what appears to be a trophy- but the trophy is shaped to look like a globe. Not of the Jewel, but of the moon. Obviously, they take it.

Some experimentation with the moon trophy seems to indicate that the locations marked on the paper from the chest draw out a sort of connect-the-dots pattern, which might be used elsewhere for some purpose. Whatever the pattern is meant to be used for, there's no indication of it here. All that can reasonably be inferred is that it has some connection to the School of Restricted Arts.

Meanwhile, the bookshelves have a few more things of interest. Amidst textbooks on neurology, magic, and speculative religion on a lower shelf, they find a hand-bound book that seems out-of-place.

Benedict I. (GM): Inside, it appears to be a diary. "i m choss n ths iss MY BOOK," it begins.

It appears to span several years of diary entries, from year 259 to 266- ending seven years before the current date, 273. The handwriting gets progressively less atrocious, and the entries are very sporadic- riddled with apologies to the diary for forgetting to write in it.

Benedict I. (GM): Choss, apparently, is a little girl who grew up in this tower. Initially she was very fond of her dad, the owner of the tower. Looseleaf: initially, huh. that's... a... great sign. Benedict I. (GM): Dad is a cool wizard who does fun magic all the time, which she helps with! She is very proud of how much pain she can withstand, and she's developed this sort of self-image as a connoisseur. Of pain. Saelhen du Fishercrown: hell Saelhen's face is getting progressively... stiffer, as she reads. Not angrier, per se, just... flatter. Benedict I. (GM): She helps out with the experiments except for not being allowed to take the hoods off the subjects in the lab. Looseleaf: Lumiere what the shit. Benedict I. (GM): And when there's no subjects, she fills in, and does a very good job, the best job. There's an entry describing how she designed a security system for her dad- she made some dolls and dad enchanted them so they open the door if you stab them right! She's very proud of it. You now know the order of stabs to disable the barrier. Anyway, the later entries seem to represent... entirely standard teen angst. Looseleaf: Hmm. Benedict I. (GM): Dad is being boring and not letting her do the experiments she wants to do and not letting her visit the towns and ugh dad. She gets fed up with him, and the last entry is about how she's leaving to go start her own life in Wheat. Looseleaf: REALLY NOW. Saelhen du Fishercrown: WELL. Looseleaf: ...god, maybe those rumors about wheat being full of insane murderous murder-os weren't, wrong. Saelhen du Fishercrown: if she is in fact a baby dragon Looseleaf: which is not at all guaranteed, by the way.

If you recall from a few sessions back:

To speak with a dragon is to be condemned to some sort of great misfortune, brought about by your own hand. You know the Simurgh from Worm? Listen to its song for too long, and you become sort of a sleeper agent of self-destructive carnage? It’s like a diet version of that. Whatever path your conversation with the dragon puts you on, it’s invariably bad for you, somehow. The metallic dragons, who’re ostensibly “good”, will still ruin your life in some way just by talking to you, even if your immolation does some good for the world on the way out. Nobody wants to talk to a dragon.

Also discovered in CHOSS BOOK is a brief account of a time she had to go to the basement, using the secret entrance underneath... something. Looseleaf almost immediately checks under the table they're sitting at, and finds... yep! A trapdoor leading to the basement!

Next time: the basement awaits!