#fair basilica

[littjara-mirrorlake]

Daily Life in the Phyrexian Spheres (Dross to Seedcore)

Previous: Facade to Furnace, Maze to Bays

The Dross Pits, much like its previous incarnation in the Mephidross of Mirrodin's surface, is a sphere rife with intrigue, double-crossing, and back-alley deals. The social structure is feudal, with lords ruling over masses of serfs and slaves, and thanes make up the top of the social pyramid. Dark, towering citadels of flesh and bone rise out of the necrogen mists, which bathe the entire layer in an eerie green glow. Large swathes of territory are controlled by thanes, lords, and magical creatures such as blight dragons and archfiends.

This sphere is densely populated, with the vast majority of its inhabitants making up the servant classes that live and die under feudal lords. Compleated Mirrans begin at the very bottom and most have little hope of ever ascending past this station, as the Steel Thanes' obsession with Phyrexian purity leads to heavy discrimination against those who are not Phyrexian-born. This obsession extends to a scrutiny of every Phyrexian's pedigree--the further removed a person is from their last non-core-born ancestor, the purer their bloodline is considered, leading to a higher chance of social advancement. As such, first-generation core-born Phyrexians (born to compleated Mirrans) are only barely considered truly Phyrexian and share their parents' meager social standing. As Phyrexians are immortal and have no need for heirs, faction members produce scions to serve their own advancement, not to eventually succeed them. Of course, said scions are rarely happy with this arrangement, seeking to usurp their parents and seize their assets instead.

Magically and technologically, the inhabitants of the Dross Pits largely focus on emulating Yawgmoth-era techniques gleaned from scrying the glistening oil. Due to the heavy emphasis on ichor magic and intrigue, glistening oil from individuals of interest--and the intelligence it contains--is an invaluable commodity in the Dross Pits. Bloodsuckers like necrosquitoes and pistid swarms are often employed to this end, fueling an illicit trade of stolen bodily fluids.

Much like the Furnace, the Dross Pits do not have an overarching system of governance or standard of law, and political allegiances vary widely. Pockets of the Dross Pits are strongholds of the Phyrexian rebellion, though they are severely handicapped by the loyalist spheres blocking them both above and below. Every thane has at least nominally allied with either Elesh Norn or the rebellion, though they are ultimately beholden only to themselves and care little for the ideals of either side.

The Fair Basilica is the innermost inhabited sphere and the de facto capital of New Phyrexia, where Elesh Norn rules from her palace and the majority of the Phyrexian military is housed. In the heart of Norn's empire, every aspect of daily life is carefully regimented and monitored; people are marched in orderly rows down alabaster bridges, flanked constantly by armed enforcers and their swarms of patrol mites. Flights of angels keep constant watch in the skies. Staggering acts of brutality are committed against any who display signs of deviance, and commoners are all too used to keeping their heads down and trying not to watch as their peers' oil is scrubbed from the streets.

Every resident of the Fair Basilica is expected to devote a significant portion of their time to worship, and the rest to assigned duties like patrolling or working the flesh-vats. Those who need to sleep do so on strict schedules under the watchful eyes of supervisors. Newts are raised by the state, rigorously educated on the Orthodoxy's religious tenets, and often apprentice under cenobites, which continues after their compleation; Mirran aspirants commonly join them.

Though it relies heavily on other spheres for commodities like raw material and technology, the Fair Basilica is at least self-sufficient in growing its own porcelain metal, which spreads in a fungus-like manner on recently dead flesh. It is mass-produced in giant growth vats, alongside Basilica inhabitants' germ offspring and seedpod centurions for the invasion (often bodies without minds, hollow for puppeting via ichor magic).

Rebellion is most difficult in the Basilica due to its oppressive environment and authorities' vested interest in controlling the flow of information--and oil--into and out of the sphere. The news fed to residents is tightly curated, requiring workarounds to even hear of the rebellion's presence at all. That said, dissident spies have managed to infiltrate even the innermost of the loyalist spheres.

The Mycosynth Gardens form a natural barrier between the populated Phyrexian spheres and the Seedcore, and passage through them is controlled exclusively by Elesh Norn herself. The Gardens themselves are uninhabited by sapient Phyrexians, though fauna like inkmoths and skitterlings roam the silent lattices, and the mycosynth itself is known to create lures or other, more cryptic structures that mimic passersby.

The Seedcore, the innermost layer of New Phyrexia, is the domain of Elesh Norn alone, where she keeps the World Tree sapling Realmbreaker imprisoned and firmly subjugated under layers of mind-altering magic. Very rarely, Norn holds the most confidential of her audiences here with her inner circle or other crucial allies. The sphere is heavily warded against incoming divination, telepathy, and any other possible interference with Norn's plans, but here lays Norn's crucial oversight: there are no such protections against communication going out, allowing Realmbreaker's telepathic distress call to pass through into the Multiverse.

And that's it for overviews of the nine Phyrexian spheres, from the perspective of a far more average commoner Phyrexian than we're used to hearing about. There's always more to be said about each of them, of course, and I hope this helps get people started thinking about their own expansions, headcanon, or additions!

[phyrexianphamily]

Do you guys ever think about Elspeth?

Elesh Norn during a celebration at the Fair Basilica, following her encounter with Ashiok

[almostlookedhuman]

[somewhere-south-of-neutral]

Porcelain Throne:

the concept of a throne of porcelain is really quite a poetic one. a gilded throne can have an iron core, and a wooden throne can be borne across a battlefield, but for a throne made of porcelain—although it may be a thing of beauty and a show of wealth, particularly in europe, to commission and import something so intricate from so far away—it can only be heavy and fragile, and, if it chips even once, it can never be made whole again. it’s beautiful if you think about it. unfortunately the phrase “porcelain throne” refers exclusively to the toilet

[useless-catalanfacts]

If you visit the Sagrada Família basilica in Barcelona (Catalonia), you might be intrigued by these squares with numbers. Like every detail in the building, it has a symbolic meaning.

These are a very particular kind of magic squares. A "magic square" is a series of numbers on a square grid, placed so that any row, column, or diagonal line always adds up to the same number. Well, to be fair, there is one more rule for the normal magic squares which this one doesn't follow: the squares cannot repeat numbers and must use all numbers from 1 to the number of squares possible (for example, a square of 3x3 would have numbers from 1 to 9, a square of 4x4 would have them from 1 to 16, etc). When this rule is followed, the number that results from the addition will always be the same (in a square of 3x3, the sum of 1+2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9 = 45, and each row, column and diagonal line sums 45/3 = 15; in a 4 x 4 magic square, where the sum of all the numbers from 1 to 16 is 136, the magic constant is 136/4 = 34). For mathematical reasons, the resulting number cannot be chosen, it will always be the same one if we follow those rules.

And here is why this one doesn't follow that rule, and it's on purpose. It doesn’t have all the numbers from 1 to 16 (it is missing the 12 and 16) and some numbers are repeated. And why did they do that? Here's the important bit: the result of the sum isn’t 34 (as would always be in a 4x4 magic square), but 33.

The sculptor who created the Sagrada Família's Passion façade (the artist Josep Maria Subirachs, following architect Antoni Gaudí's vision) took a different spin for these squares. Magic squares have been used as talismans in many cultures for millennia, since ancient cultures including 3rd millennium BC China, Ancient India, Ancient Egypt, Arab, and Greek cultures, among others. For the Sagrada Família (a Christian temple), Subirachs used to hide a number of great significance in Christian symbolism.

Painting Melencolia I by Albrecht Dürer (1514) and a detail from it.

Subirachs adapted a magic square from this engraving by Dürer and changed it so that it would add up to 33: the age that Jesus Christ is traditionally believed to have been when he was executed. A number based on the repetition of another of the most important numbers in Christianity: 3, symbolizing the holy trinity.

The square in the Sagrada Família manages to add 33 by repeating some numbers and skipping others. But it also goes further than adding up 33 in every row, column, and diagonal line. The same number can also be obtained with many other combinations. Here are some of them:

Plus, in the magic square at the Sagrada Família, there is also a sort of hidden subliminal signature: adding up the numbers that repeat and looking at their correspondence in the Roman alphabet, we get the initials INRI (Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum = "Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews" in Latin), which was written on the sign at the top of the cross where Jesus was crucified.

This way, mathematics, art history and religious symbolism all come together in this little symbol.

Photos from Alamy, Martin Leicht, Sagrada Família blog. Text adapted from Sagrada Família blog. All the graphs with the numbers are from that same article.

[raakdos-battlemap]

Phyrexia encounter #004 Path to the Norn's Palace

The Fair Basilica, a white-aligned sphere built in the image of Elesh Norn, decorated with statues and monuments to her. It contains Norn's throne room, though she now resides in the plane's second layer and designates the unification of the plane to Atraxa in her stead. Though no light from the plane's suns can reach this layer, its structures generate their light; the layer's walls, composed of ossified Phyrexian corpses of those Norn deemed perfect, glow white, while crimson capillaries etched into its marble-esque floor glow blood-red.

More variations of this map:

[incomingalbatross]

I was raised in St Louis and never went inside the Basilica bc it was "too catholic" 😭😭 so I def need to go back and visit sometime

to be fair it IS very Catholic. :P I also think it is absolutely stunning, though (it's very often listed as one of the most beautiful churches in America) and I've never gotten over it. Do visit if you get a good chance!

[little-bloodied-angel]

In the very eloquent words of Mera Trishos Lee: SIR YOUR FUCKING FACE??

See this little eye twitch right there? The slight flex of the jaw? That's the exact representation of me when I'm about to fuck some shit up, 100%

That's also how I knew this fucker would own my ass forever, just fyi.

[rubynymphyy]

Pokeddexy Day 28: Cutest Pokemon~

Considered Tinkaton but she ended up as Steel so here are... two members of the blue division of the postal service! It's not. QUITE fair to call the blue division the nepotism division but boy howdy are there a lot of-

ANYWAY here are nepo babies Summer and Holy. They're approximately... 30th cousins? Holy's well known for his actual work ethic despite the fact that he got parachuted by his family almost directly into managerial work and the not-so-hidden secret that one of the higher ups desperately wants to be his sugar daddy. so he got landed with managing teen delinquent Summer, who is absolutely not thrilled to be voluntold to work at the family business.

Postal service main office is the Basilica in the old part of town; most of the blue division management is located there, while red management is spread across the city because they need to fly the flag and have more firepower available locally at any time. Is the postal service blessed or are the toge-bloodlines blessed..? They’re so intertwined at this point it’s impossible to say. 

Red division’s work is probably... that kind of 'red' or 'black' if you feel me [i also don’t know anything more specific]. While some postal workers act entirely on the blue side of the business, promotion to managerial status requires that you at least be able to defend yourself. for obvious reasons nepo babies are not generally sent into the red division, but there are some toge-families that believe in the school of hard knocks.

The jacket is regulation for management! So are Summer's boots + bag- he's supposed to wear black gloves with it, but he thinks punching with anything but your bare fists is for wimps. one day maybe he'll learn. He absolutely tossed his uniform hat off a bridge the first day he started. I have another Togetic who actually works for the red division but I can’t spend all my energy on postal workers when there are still three more days of Pokeddexy!

I made up all of this background today so nobody quote me on this if i change my mind again tomorrow. I thought I was just going to do small doodles in this style and then something more detailed but. that is not going to happen

[head-post]

Pilgrims pass through Holy Door of Vatican

Pilgrims lined up to pass through the Holy Door at the entrance to St Peter’s Basilica, commencing the 2025 Holy Year celebrations, according to The Irish Examiner.

Passing through the Holy Door is one of the ways the faithful can receive indulgences or forgiveness of sins during a Jubilee. The quarter-century tradition dates back to the 1300s. On Christmas Eve, Pope Francis knocked on the Door and was the first to pass through it, inaugurating the 2025 Jubilee, which he dedicated to hope.

This year Hanukkah, Judaism’s eight-day Festival of Lights, begins on Christmas Day, which has happened only four times since 1900. The coincidence of calendars has inspired some religious leaders to hold interfaith gatherings such as a Chicanukah party in Houston, Texas. The last time Hanukkah commenced on Christmas Day was in 2005.

Pilgrims were subjected to security checks before entering amid new security concerns following a fatal attack on a Christmas fair in Germany. German celebrations were marred by a car accident at a Christmas fair in Magdeburg on Friday, leaving five people dead and 200 injured.

President Frank-Walter Steinmeier rewrote his recorded Christmas speech, stating that “there is grief, pain, horror and incomprehension over what took place in Magdeburg.” Steinmeier also called on Germans to “stand together,” stating that “hate and violence must not have the last word.”

Read more HERE

[wind-to-your-sails]

The Domini of New Phyrexia: An Elaborate Headcanon of my Own Design

The wounding of a world-soul is not an easy thing. It is a dark and awful deed, and cannot be done the same way that one might wipe away a continent. To scar the soul of a world is to change its very nature, to rewrite laws so fundamental that they are scarcely thought of as laws. In the past, such monstrosity was considered the realm of gods alone; Amonkhet, Lorwyn and Zendikar stand as testament to the consequences of such a deed, and the weakest of those who dealt the scars was still a planeswalker of the ancient tradition.

But now, we know better. We have beheld Phyrexia, and the march of the Domini. The worlds of which I have spoken, they bore their wounds and retained much of what they had been. But Phyrexia did not simply wound their world-soul, they broke it.

Their hideous works reforged the world, tearing the domains apart and sequestering them to separate spheres of existence while they erased all knowledge of the rituals that had kept the land hale and hearty. And then, as if to prove that the arrogance of Norn did not know limits, they covered the ruin of the old world with a hideous porcelain shell that blocked out all light of the world-shaping five suns of Mirrodin.

And so the world-soul of Phyrexia emerged, split into five parts and scattered across five spheres. These are the Domini, the mutilated voices of a vivisected planet.

Mondrak is the Dominus of Glory and resides within the Fair Basilica, the Seventh Sphere of Phyrexia. Born with seven mouths and no ears, Mondrak wails an unceasing hymn in praise of the majesty and supremacy of the Machine Orthodoxy. It is said that to hear her song is to understand Phyrexia, and perhaps even worse, to believe in it. The truth of this superstition is difficult to verify, as the volume and tone of Mondrak’s voice induces paralysis and disorientation even at distances where the words cannot be recognized.

Called the Breathless Choir by her fellow zealots, Mondrak is seen as a pinnacle of inspiration and living proof of the infallibility of Norn’s teachings. Despite her voice often proving destructive to the nearby architecture, Mondrak is frequently surrounded by aspirants eager to receive the gospel of the Argent Etchings. As for the Mother of Machines herself, Elesh Norn regards Mondrak as a curious setpiece and a useful resource, a rallying standard that can bring even the mites out in force.

Tekuthal is the Dominus of Inquiry and can be found in the Surgical Bay, the Fifth Sphere of Phyrexia. Having emerged from the oceans of quicksilver with countless eyes and no mouth, Tekuthal poses an endless series of silent and inscrutable questions of the Progress Engine. He communicates with and mimics those around him by shaping the quicksilver into facsimiles, and should they displease him (which they frequently do) he will accentuate the imitation with exaggerated features. Once left alone, these caricatures frequently disintegrate along fault lines that are invariably found to be present in the beings they were mocking.

The Gitaxians derisively refer to Tekuthal as the Prince of Mockery, ridiculing him for his behaviour because his design is beyond reproach. Observation suggests that Tekuthal’s presence invites scrutiny among the ‘scientists’ who are already obsessed with eliminating imperfections, as the idea that there is something to mock suggests that there is something to fix. Jin-Gitaxias has meanwhile drawn inspiration from Tekuthal’s many eyes to create his new surveillance system, and regards the Dominus as a rival who would be much more interesting as a partner.

Drivnod is the Dominus of Carnage and haunts the Dross Pits, the Sixth Sphere of Phyrexia. Born with no flesh of his own and a single eye of baleful fire, Drivnod ravages and flays any servant of the Steel Thanes that wanders too far from the pack. The towering monolith of destruction and slaughter garbs himself in great tapestries woven from his victims, and seems to delight in every scream he creates. Strangely enough, Drivnod appears to be repulsed by worship, shirking away from the adulation he receives in the more populated areas of the Pits.

As in all other things, the Steel Thanes are divided on how to deal with Drivnod. While some are content to leave him to his own devices, others like Azax-Azog and Geth see an opportunity in the Dominus, a potent weapon that could stamp out all opposition to their reign. The rank and file of the Dross Pits are far more united in their perspective, worshipping Drivnod as an idealized manifestation of the proverb that strength is the only power worthy of praise. Some even whisper that he is the Second Coming of Yawgmoth, the true Father of Machines... though none dare say it where a Thane might hear them.

Solphim is the Dominus of Mayhem and dwells in the Autonomous Furnace, the Third Sphere of Phyrexia. Born in a molten body clad in a gown of spears, Solphim is a beast of rabid freedom that embodies the ideals of the Quiet Furnace so completely that she rejects all responsibility for her actions. As though making a parody of the Furnace’s enemies, Solphim inscribes the deep canyons of her territory with draconian and contradictory laws and seems to decide which are worth enforcing on nothing but a whim. The only consistency in her behaviour is a swift and merciless vengeance against any who trespass against the Great Work, most commonly the sycophants of Atraxa.

Declared the Great Mother of Chaos by adherents of the Quiet Furnace, Solphim is openly venerated as a goddess. Her own apparent disregard for this adulation hardly matters, as Dominus worship exists most principally as a rejection of the Argent Etchings and the growing idea of the Flesh Singularity. Urabrask alone regards Solphim as an equal, a deft hand at defence and hopefully an ally in the war to come.

Zopandrel is the Dominus of Hunger and inhabits the Hunter Maze, the Fourth Sphere of Phyrexia. Born with piercing claws at her sides and spitting infectious spores from her face, Zopandrel is an anomaly among the Vicious Swarm in that she hunts with a pack. Unlike the sea of aspiring apex predators that infest the Maze, Zopandrel radiates power outward into her fellow beasts and girds them for battle as not even the magic of Glissa Sunslayer can do. As if to promote this warped idea of community, Zopandrel’s spores impart degenerative phyresis at a staggering rate that can reduce even the most fortified soldier to a ravenous beast in hours.

The denizens of the Vicious Swarm call Zopandrel the Maw of Progress, a slant against Jin-Gitaxias’ failed efforts to present a compleated Ezuri as his answer to Glissa Sunslayer. To these consummate predators, the Dominus’ ability to avoid falling into either their role or that of prey is an intriguing gesture at an infinitely more complex ecosystem. Vorinclex sees in Zopandrel a worthy general that can join him on the front lines, with a strength nearly equal to his own.

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

Feast Days: St. Bartholomew

Saint Bartholomew, workshop of Simone Martini (c.1317-1319)

Happy St. Bartholomew's Day!

Today marks the feast day of St. Bartholomew the Apostle -- that's right, one of the OG followers of Jesus! Although he has a pretty miniscule role in Biblical narratives, he is one of the twelve apostles, and so has a heavy load when it comes to patronage. He is the patron saint of butchers, Florentine salt and cheese merchants, house painters, book binders, leather workers, neurological diseases, skin diseases, dermatology, shoemakers, glove makers, farmers, curriers, tanners, trappers, and twitching.

A fair warning: this one isnt' so cheerful. Bart's demise, like many of the saints, is pretty gnarly, and it does have something to do with all this skin/leather stuff going on in his patronage. This day is also associated with an infamous example of religious violence, Catholic vs. Protestant. Read on at your own peril.

His Life

Not a lot is known about Bartholomew's life within Biblical canon. He is believed to be same person as the apostle Nathaniel, who appears in John 1:45-51 and 21:2. He is also mentioned in the Book of Acts.

Much of the tradition around Bartholomew details his trips to spread Christianity. This man sure got around! Two ancient texts cite a trip to India, specifically the Bombay region, where he left a copy of the Gospel of Matthew. However, many scholars doubt that this actually happened, and say that he actually went to Ethiopia or modern-day Yemen. Still other traditions hold that he was a missionary in Mesopotamia, northeastern Iran, and/or central Turkey.

Arguably his most eventful missions trip was to the Armenia/Azerbaijan area in the 1st century CE. Along with his fellow apostle Jude (also called Thaddeus), he is credited with bringing Christianity to the region; and as such, both are venerated as the patron saints of the Apostolic Church of Armenia. His luck ran out here, however, and he was martyred in the region in horrific fashion. Legend holds that he converted the king of Albania, Polymius, to Christianity. Polymius's brother was not a fan of this, and fearing a Roman backlash, and ordered Bartholomew's torture and execution. There are three main stories about his manner of death. The most popular says that he was executed in Albonopolis in Armenia by being flayed (skinned) alive and beheaded. The second account says he was crucified upside-down, and the third that he was beaten unconscious and thrown into the sea to drown. The first legend captures the imagination much more vividly, and as such Bartholomew is most frequently depicted holding his skin -- sometimes he has grown a new skin, other times he is still a skin-less meat man. Many times the old skin still has his face. Woof.

Bartholomew has also come to be associated with the field of medicine, for two main reasons. Firstly, artists past and present have taken advantage of Bartholomew's flayed state to execute detailed anatomical studies of the human body. Secondly, a portion of his relics are stored at the basilica of San Bartolomeo all'Isola in Rome. This was the old site of a temple to Asclepius, which was an important Roman medical site (Asclepius is the Greek god of medicine). Thus, over time, Bartholomew and medicine came to be connected.

The St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre

A depiction by Huguenot painter François Dubois, who was possibly an eyewitness (c.1572-1584)

This series mainly focuses on saints' days in the UK, but one does not simply discuss St. Bartholomew's Day without discussing the massacre. This outbreak of bloodletting was part of the decades-long French Wars of Religion, which was fought on and off between Catholics and Huguenots (French Calvinist Protestants). As religion held such an essential role in society and in the machinations of power, the 'type' of Christianity embraced by the state was literally and frequently a matter of life and death. With autocratic governments, unity of church and state, and much less effective means of communication and law enforcement, it was only too easy for hate and violence to take over, and for those in power to turn a blind eye or even participate. There are many contemporary examples we can look to as parallels to this event, and I think with the same conditions, it could happen a lot more often.

The massacre took place in Paris on the night of August 23rd-24th, 1572. Although the causes for the riots are complex and deep-rooted, the main inciting factor was the marriage of Henry III of Navarre, a Catholic, to Margaret of Valois, a Huguenot. They were married on August 18th, and many rich and famous Huguenots gathered in largely-Catholic Paris to attend the wedding. Tensions erupted in scenes of horrific violence, with Catholic mobs attacking, trapping, and hunting down Huguenots in the streets. The violence lasted for several weeks, spreading out through the provinces and other urban areas. Sir Francis Walsingham, Elizabeth I's ambassador to France at the time, was in Paris during the violence and barely managed to escape with his life. Modern estimates cite the casualties from anywhere between 5,000 and 30,000 people. Although the Catholic reaction to the slaughter ranged from outward glee to sickened horror, Protestant countries obviously panicked, and the massacre was used as anti-Catholic propaganda for centuries, 'justifying' Protestant reprisals against uninvolved Catholics. It was yet another terrible event in the brutal European Wars of Religion.

St. Bartholomew's Day and its Traditions

On to more cheerful things!

This day is also called Bartlemas or Bartelmytide.

Emma, the wife of King Canute, supposedly brought one of Bartholomew's arms to England in the 11th century, and it was venerated in Canterbury Cathedral for many years. Most of the information on this is in the past tense, so I assume it is no longer there.

Depiction of Bartholomew Fair, Rowlandson et. al., c.1808

August and the time around St. Bartholomew's Day is the traditional time for markets and fairs. One of the most famous was Bartholomew Fair in West Smithfield, London. A massive spectacle, it served as a place for serious trade, becoming the main cloth trading event in the country; but it also offered entertainment like dances, tournaments, musicians, international curiosities, food vendors, conjurers, wild animals, circus acts, and an all-around good time. It began in 1133 by a charter from Henry I, and originally lasted three days, but during the 1600s it could go for two full weeks! With the change in the calendar in 1753, the fair was moved to September 3rd, and in 1791 they decided four days was quite enough time. It was ended in 1855 for causing public disturbance and the criminal activity it attracted. A less rowdy street fair is still held in Crewkerne, Somerset, at the beginning of September. It dates back to Saxon times and is even recorded in the Doomesday Book of 1086!

There is also some delightful weather wisdom about St. Bartholomew's Day. One rhyme says, "If St. Bartholomew's be fair and clear / Then a prosperous autumn comes that year". Another is connected to St. Swithin's Day (July 15th), and claims "All the tears St. Swithin can cry / St Bartelmy's mantle wipes them dry". Traditional wisdom holds that rain on St. Swithin's Day means rain for the next 40 days, or until August 24th.

Many areas have their own unique ways of celebrating the holiday, such as blessing mead or baking special bread. It's nice to know that a holiday associated with such terrible things can be made into a nice occasion!

If You're Still Interested

There are a few famous depictions of the saint, including Michelangelo's rendering in "The Last Judgement". However, the whole flayed skin thing makes it pretty gruesome, and I didn't want to spring that on y'all without warning. If you'd like to see it, feel free to Google!

History Today's article that details some specific exhibitions from Bartholomew's Fair, including ventriloquists and a pig that could tell time!

Sources

Please forgive the excess of Wikipedia! It's hard to find info on the internet about this holiday, and Wikipedia has been the most forthcoming. It really can be helpful sometimes.

Wikipedia (Bartholomew the Apostle)

Wikipedia (Bartholomew Fair)

Wikipedia (St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre)

My AP European History class (woot)

aclerkofoxford

The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady by Edith Holden

The Encyclopedia of Saints by Rosemary Ellen Guiley

[baravaggio]

Do you have any interesting perfumes to recommend? I've got a small collection of perfume, but have kind of reached the point where I'm bored with what just smells "good" and want something a little more unique and out there, something to evoke a new experience. Not really sure where to start branching out, I'd appreciate any recommendation!

hehe of course, I'm happy to recommend some stuff! most of what I have I've talked about on here in some way, but I'll also include some of the perfumes I have my eye on but haven't tried yet in case any of it catches your eye ✨

basilica by milano fragranze

I've gushed about this enough but I think it's a great place to start if you're trying to branch out a bit - this combo is something never thought I'd like until I actually smelled it on my skin!

ghost in the shell by etat libre d'orange

this one's out there without being completely unwearable - it does smell quite nice & fresh but with an uncanniness that lives up to the name

christopher street by charenton macerations

so full disclosure I haven't found the right occasion to try this on skin yet, but I have a little sample and it's so intriguing to sniff right out of the bottle...might not be the most versatile fragrance (tbd!) but it definitely strongly evokes the vibe of its namesake to me, which is why it called out to me

would also recommend checking out the other perfumes by ELDO and zoologist for some more conceptual fragrances that are still readily accessible!

and here are some things I've bookmarked but haven't tried yet - fair warning though, some are definitely more out there than others lol

concrete by comme des garçons

female christ by 19-69

after every ounce of joy (leaves my body) by chris rusak

the door by roelen

haxan by prissana

cuoium by orto parisi

I also answered an ask a couple days ago where I talked about about how I find new perfumes, what my approach is, etc...so if none of this specifically appeals that might be helpful to you! good luck & happy sniffing 👃

[budapestbug]

Basilica Budapesz, the Xmas Fair started

[ironychan]

A Little Human (as a Treat)

Part 1/?: Un Voluntario

Part 2/?: Un Escursione

Part 3/?: Una Complicazione

Part 4/?: Una Famiglia

Part 5/?: Un Aiutante

Part 6/?: Una Ricerca

Part 7/?: Un Confronto

Part 8/?: Un'Emergenza

One set of kids is locked up, the other are on the run, and neither are where Massimo and Leonardo have arrived to look for them. @writer652 @dysphoria-sweatshirt

Walking through the city earlier that day, with her friends at her side and bright sunshine overhead, Flavia had felt like she was having a wonderful adventure with something new and amazing around every corner. Now the sun was getting low, casting long, inky black shadows, and groups of humans were talking quietly or watching suspiciously as Flavia and Perla passed by, and the city felt totally different. She kept overhearing the word monstri, and it made her feel a sudden terror that she might just change back out of nowhere. So far the magic seemed pretty dependable, but who knew? Maybe they'd gotten some tiny detail wrong, and it would all go bad at any moment.

That didn't happen, though, and holding on to Perla's hand helped. Perla didn't look worried about anything at all, herself – she stood up straight and walked like there was nothing wrong in the world. She even waved to a couple of the people they passed, and got waves and greetings back.

“Hey, if you don't transform like the other sea monsters,” Perla whispered. “Do your parents have to live on land all the time?”

“Um... no,” said Flavia. What was the shortest way to explain this? “Usually, it's that I can't get out of the water. This is some special magic just for today. I have to find my friends so they can help me change back.”

Perla's eyes went wide. “Does that mean today is the first time you've ever been to land?”

“Not really,” Flavia said, although she wasn't sure her previous experiences counted. “I've been to Nonna Sofia's. She has a house on land where we can keep our human clothes and get mail and stuff like that. I don't go there very often.” Partly because even with the wet towel she couldn't stay out for very long, and partly because her cousins so enjoyed making her miserable. “It's my first time in a city, though.”

“Do you like it?” Perla asked.

“I... I dunno,” Flavia admitted. “I thought I did this morning, but then we all got wet.”

“Maybe next time will be better,” suggested Perla. “I can show you my Papà's fancy pigeons, and the paintings in the basilica. They're supposed to be a thousand years old! And I know where there's an owl's nest. The owl didn't come back this year, but there's still feathers in it.”

Flavia shook her head. “I don't think there's gonna be a next time. My Dads will never let me.” She wasn't even sure she'd want to.

“Perla?” a woman asked. “Perla Pepitone?”

The name was recognizable, but pronounced oddly. The girls looked to see a plump woman in a burgundy dress hurrying towards them. She had short fair hair, and her cat's eye glasses had little gems on the upper corners.

“Ciao, Signora Mulino,” said Perla.

The woman with the accent shook her head. “Zut alors, you girls shouldn't be out and about without an adult! Where do you think you're going?” She started herding them back into the shop she'd come out of. It had fancy cakes and pastries in the window, and the sign said Patisserie. Flavia vaguely remembered noticing it on the way to the zoo, and thinking that pasticceria was a long word so it was probably okay if people couldn't spell it.

“To Narciso's,” Perla replied. “There's nothing to be scared of. Nonna told Papà about the sea monsters but he doesn't believe her.”

But Signora Mulino would not be swayed. She brought them into the shop and got them to a table, where a woman in blue was already sitting with a cup of espresso. There were a few other people in the room, including a boy behind the counter sorting pastries, and a couple sitting at a table by the window, watching the street as if on guard for something.

“Signorina Mulino is from Francia,” Perla told Flavia, happy to gossip even if she wasn't happy to be here. “Her father did something awful during the war and brought his family to Italia so he wouldn't get in trouble for it after. She won't tell us what it was.”

“It's none of anybody's business,” Signorina Mulino told them.

“When she found out about it,” Perla went on, “she was so upset, she tried to throw herself off a cliff into the sea!”

“And I'd prefer to forget both those things!” the Frenchwoman said sharply. “You are your Nonna's granddaughter, aren't you, Perla?”

“That's what Papà says,” Perla agreed. Signorina Mulino had clearly meant it as an insult, but Perla wasn't at all bothered about it.

“Were you okay?” Flavia asked. She knew that humans were often not very good at swimming, and had now learned from unpleasant experience what happened if they tried to breathe the water.

“Yes, I was,” Signorina Mulino said, and nodded at the woman in blue. “Felicia's a better swimmer than I am, and she pulled me out. Pietro!” she called to the boy behind the counter. “Get these girls a treat, please. Felicia, just mind them, would you? I'm going to ring Roberto Pepitone and let him know they're here.”

“Of course, Céline,” said the woman in blue.

“We're fine!” Perla protested. “We're just going to get candy.”

“There aren't any monsters,” Flavia added, feeling she'd better pitch in.

Signorina Mulino and her friend Felicia exchanged a rather significant glance. “Even if there aren't,” the Frenchwoman said, “the story going around is that they were disguised as children, and I don't want anybody thinking it's you. Wait right here, and I'll call your father.” She bustled off to the back of the bakery, while the boy called Pietro came to offer them a plate of madeleines.

The two girls smiled nervously at Felicia. She had limp dark hair tied hastily back under a kerchief, and looked leery of them, as if she wasn't sure they weren't some kind of creature in disguise. If only she knew, Flavia thought. What were they going to do now? They couldn't just sit here and wait for Perla's father to come get them.

“Do you think sea monsters are real?” Perla asked.

“I... would have to see one,” Felicia replied. She looked to see if Pietro were watching, and when she found him concentrating on scrubbing a pan, she took a cookie off the plate meant for the girls. “I don't suppose you two have seen my husband. I've been looking everywhere for him.”

“What's he look like?” Flavia asked, wanting to be helpful.

Felicia sighed. “Never mind, actually. You wouldn't have.”

---

It was at about that time that a small fishing boat puttered into San Giuseppe Bay with two men on board. Instead of coming all the way into the harbour, however, it stopped a long way out, and one of the occupants took a look at the city through binoculars.

“I don't think anybody's noticed us,” said Uncle Leonardo. People appeared to be standing around talking in small groups, paying no attention to the ocean.

Massimo gave a curt nod. “You get Flavia. I'll find the others. We'll meet back here.” 'Here' was a featureless point in the ocean, but that was no problem to a sea monster's innate sense of direction and location.

“Good luck,” said Leonardo.

Massimo climbed overboard.

Entering the water still gave him a moment of instinctive panic. Born without a right arm, Massimo had never learned to swim and had not spent much time on the beach as a child. He had no reason to be afraid anymore – sea monsters swam with their tails instead of their limbs, and even if he sank he would be able to breath – but it was still disconcerting. Giulia was much younger than he, and had adapted much faster.

Once fully submerged and transformed he was able to make himself breathe, and gave the anchor line a tug to let Leonardo know he could pull it back up. Then he turned to look at the soft glow of windows lit by luminescent jellyfish in the gathering twilight, and set out towards them with a flick of his fluked tail.

While not the type to ever admit such a thing, Massimo was... nervous. The sea monsters near Portorosso all knew who – and what – he and Giulia were. Some of them didn't like the idea of humans who could transform, but even those tried not to be rude about it. The community in San Giuseppe Bay were strangers. He had a good enough grasp on their etiquette, and it wasn't as if he were going to be telling them where he came from, but the idea of talking to them still left him just a little on edge.

Sea monster houses did not have doors that opened and shut. To get the attention of the inhabitants, Massimo stopped outside the first one he came to and called out.

“Scusi! Sorry to interrupt.”

It was a family of five – the parents, and three children of various sizes, all helping cook their supper. As seemed to be usual, it was the wife who came to the door to greet their caller while the husband stayed minding a basket of food perched on the hot water chimney in the kitchen. The children followed to see who this visitor was.

“Buona sera,” the woman said, polite but concerned.

“I am looking for three children, two boys and a girl, around fourteen years old,” Massimo said. “They would have been wearing human clothes, like me.”

She shook her head. “I haven't seen them.” She looked over her shoulder at her family. The children shrugged, and the husband, whose mouth was full, made a negative noise.

“Sorry,” she said to Massimo.

“Grazie, Signora,” he replied, and moved on to the next property.

---

High above and perhaps a kilometre away, Leonardo Scorfano brought the boat puttering into the harbour, thinking as he did how Giorgio was going to kill him when he got home. He should never have let Flavia run off with the others unsupervised. Leonardo should have gone with her. Then, when the fountain had broken, he would...

... well, he probably would have been soaked, too, but maybe he could have given Flavia some option besides going with that horrible Pepitone woman. He could still hear her going on and on about how ugly and frightening sea monsters were. That was the sort of thing to give a child problems for life.

He and Massimo had avoided notice out at sea, but the inhabitants soon saw a boat approaching their dock, and a group began to gather. Leonardo shut off the engine and drifted to a stop a few metres from the wharf to assess the risk here. It didn't look good. The humans were almost all men, watching him warily or muttering to each other. Some of them had harpoons. Others had buckets of water.

Leonardo held up his hands. “My name is Leonardo Scorfano!” he called out. “I'm just here for my daughter. I got a telephone call. She was separated from her friends and she's with a woman named Dionisia Pepitone.” How could he convince them he was harmless without having to get wet?

Giancarlo would have been able to do it. For all Leonardo's little brother was a lousy criminal and had been a worse father to young Alberto, he really could talk anybody into anything. What would Giancarlo say now?

“Apparently,” Leonardo added, “Signora Pepitone saved her from some, uh, sea monsters?”

He wasn't sure this wouldn't be a dangerous thing to say, but as it turned out, it was exactly what the humans needed to hear. The group visibly relaxed, and Leonardo was able to bring the boat the rest of the way in. A man on the shore offered a hand to help him out of the boat, and Leonardo thanked him and decided to risk asking a couple of questions.

“Did anybody see these sea monsters?” he asked.

“My sister did!” somebody offered. “She works at the zoo. She said they had long tails and sharp teeth!”

“They were disguised as children,” another person agreed. “Was your daughter supposed to be with friends?”

“She was with my nephew and a couple of his friends,” Leonardo said.

“Well, be very careful,” the first man said. “If you meet them, you can't trust that they are who they appear to be!”

“Yeah, nobody suspected a thing until the fountain broke,” the second man told him. “Their disguises were flawless.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Leonardo promised, trying very hard not to sound sarcastic. He tied the boat in place, very wary of the water lapping the posts of the dock. It wouldn't take much to cause a disaster now, just one stray bit of spray. “Is there a telephone I can use? I'd like to warn Signora Pepitone I'm coming.” If she were on her guard for sea monsters disguised as humans then she, too, might have a bucket of water handy to throw on anyone who rang her bell unannounced.

Another member of the crowd showed him to a pay telephone under the row of arches that fronted a line of shops. He put a coin in the phone's slot and asked the operator for Dionisia Pepitone. The phone rang twice, and then somebody picked up.

“Hello?” asked the woman's voice.

“Hello, Dionisia,” he replied, “it's Leonardo Scorfano. I've arrived in town. I'm down at the harbour and I wanted to let you know I was coming. Just so you wouldn't be afraid I was another sea monster and soak me at the door.” He attempted a chuckle.

“Of course, of course,” she said. “Just another test – what colour is Flavia's hair?”

“Dark brown, almost black,” said Leonardo, “chin-length and curly at the tips.” He'd just stared at her that morning, trying to memorize every detail of her human form. Even if he never saw it again, he wanted to know it as well as he knew her sea monster one. Any father would.

He could hear Signora Pepitone's sigh of relief. “I'll bring her down right away. You're at the harbour, you said? Just a moment.” Her voice became muffled as she covered the receiver and called to somebody else in the room. Roberto! Get the girls, would you? Tell Flavia her father's here!

It was now Leonardo's turn to sigh. The biggest hurdles were over. All he had to do now was meet Flavia and return to where they'd dropped off Massimo, and then they could all go home and try to forget this ever happened. Poor Flavia. Would she ever even want to visit her grandmother's house on Procida again, or would this experience leave her finished with the land for good?

Then he heard the thump of the phone receiver hitting the wall, and voices shouting. His heart tightened in his chest.

“Hello?” Leonardo asked. “Hello? What's going on over there?”

Only after several more muffled shouts and what sounded like a lot of running did anybody pick up the phone again. It was a woman, but not Signora Pepitone. “Hello?” she asked breathlessly. “Signor Scorfano, are you still there?”

“Yes, yes, I am,” he said. “What happened?”

“I'm so sorry,” the woman said, “bur the girls are gone.”

For a moment, Leonardo couldn't believe he'd just heard that. He had to have missed something. She couldn't mean gone. Then a shiver passed over him as if he were falling into cold water, so intense that he was a bit surprised he didn't Change. “What do you mean, gone?” he asked.

“Perla and Flavia went into the other room,” said the woman. “Perla was going to show her something. My mother-in-law has all these little ceramic birds and Perla loves birds, it's all she talks about... but now they've both vanished!”

“Roberto's checking the hallway!” came the voice of Signora Pepitone. “Maybe they went to a neighbour's. All the neighbours know Perla.”

“Where's your house? I”ll be right there,” Leonardo said. How could this be happening? Flavia had promised to stay where she was? How had this other girl persuaded her to run away? Where were they going, and why? “Hello?”

The phone was passed back to Signora Pepitone. “Sorry, I'm still here. Oh, this is terrible. My granddaughter, Perla... I thought the two of them would be friends, I thought it would be good for Flavia to have some company after the other children turned out to be monsters! I...” He could hear her take a deep breath and try to calm herself. “Those sea monsters! It must be! They came in and took her somehow!”

“I don't know if sea monsters could get into your house,” said Leonardo, though he didn't know what good that would do. This situation was getting worse and worse. Not only was Flavia missing, but if he were revealed now...

“I don't know how they'd do it, either!” said Signora Pepitone. “We need the police! Yes, the police station is at the Piazza Centrale, we'll meet you there.”

“Right. I'll head right up.” Leonardo put the phone back in the cradle and turned to the group of people, who were gathered around watching as if this were all some sort of show. Humans, like sea monsters, enjoyed nothing more than a bit of gossip. “Don't just stand there!” he told them. “My daughter is missing! Where is the police station?”

“I'll take you there,” a woman offered. “This way.”

---

If Flavia had known that Papa Leo was only a few blocks away, she might not have felt trapped in the bakery. As it was, she and Perla could only sit there watching the woman called Felicia eat the cookies and fret, staring out the window as people went by. She clearly was far more interested in spotting her husband if he passed than in what the girls were doing, but she would surely notice if they tried to leave. Flavia thought as hard as she could, but she didn't have any ideas, and when she looked at Perla, she could see her new friend didn't, either. They were running out of time before Perla's father was sure to come for them.

Then they got a reprieve. Signoria Mulino returned with cups of chocolate for them, and as she set these down she said, “there's no answer at your father's place, and your grandmother's line is busy. I”ll try again in a few minutes.”

“We're really fine, Signorina,” Perla insisted. “We were just going to buy some candy and then we'll go straight back. At the end of the day Signor Giglioli gives it out cheap so he won't have to keep it overnight.”

“It's not like there's sea monsters just walking around in the streets,” Flavia said.

Signorina Mulino and her friend Felicia looked at each other again, but before either could speak, the bell on the Patisserie door rang violently as a boy of about fifteen burst in.

“They caught them!” he announced, breathless. “Pietro, they caught the monsters!”

“What? Really?” Felicia jumped to her feet, speaking around a mouthful of cookie.

Pietro came out from behind the corner, shooing at the younger boy. “Eustachio! How many times does Mamma have to tell you not to bother me at work?”

Felicia stuffed one more cookie in her mouth, then ran up to Eustachio and grabbed his shirt. “What happened?” she asked. “Which monsters? Did you see them?”

“Yeah, three little ones and a big one!” the boy replied with enthusiasm. “Officer Ippolito has them locked up at the police station! Everybody's coming to see! Come on, Pietro,” he added to his brother.

“I am working,” Pietro insisted.

“Well, if the monsters are caught, then it's safe and we can go!” Perla announced. She grabbed Flavia's hand, and when Pietro opened the door to throw his brother out, the two of them dashed through it. “Come on, police station is this way!” said Perla.

“Hey, wait!” the woman called Felicia said. “I'm... I'm supposed to be watching you! Wait for me!” and she hurried after them.

---

By the time he'd called at the fourth sea monster house, Massimo was getting worried. Alberto, Luca, and Giulia were not the sort of children to keep a low profile. If they'd been here, somebody should have seen them, but so far he'd heard no three times, and arrived at the fourth house to find there was nobody home.

He was probably worrying about nothing – Massimo was self-aware enough to know he did that where his daughter was concerned. He probably just needed to ask somebody who lived a little closer to shore, but he couldn't help wondering about other possibilities. Flavia had told her father that the others had fled into the river. They'd assumed the river flowed through the storm drains into the sea, like the stream in Portorosso, but what if it didn't? What if they were trapped somewhere underground.

“Are you looking for the Macarellos?”

Massimo turned to face the woman who'd spoke to him. She was tall for a female, dark blue in colour with lighter fins that were starting to fade to transparent with age, and like everybody he'd met so far, she looked a little worried by him. It might have just been because he was big, but he suspected it was at least partly his clothing. Sea monsters off the coast of Portorosso were getting used to seeing their neighbours dressed as humans. In San Giuseppe Bay, it would be a novel sight.

“No,” he replied, “I am looking for my daughter, my nephew, and their friends.”

“Were they dressed like you?” the woman asked. “My brother mentioned seeing three kids in land monster clothes.”

Massimo's heart beat a bit faster. “Yes. Did he say where they went?”

“They were looking for Antonio Macarello,” she replied. “He sent them here.” She drifted past Massimo to look around indoors. “Felicia! Hello?”

“Not on a Thursday, but today isn't Thursday,” the woman replied. “Thursdays Antonio visits friends from out of town, so Felicia goes to see her friend Celina. The rest of the week they're usually here in the evenings.”

“They've gone with the children,” Massimo decided, relieved. Giulia was responsible, as was Luca, and Alberto was smarter than he let on – but it was still good to know they had adults with them. “They'll be in the city, looking for a friend.” Hopefully they could meet up with Leonardo and Flavia, and they would all go home together.

“In the land monster city?” The sea monster woman was shocked. “Surely not! Antonio's scared to death of the place! That's why Felicia never...” she stopped and shook her head. “Sorry, I really shouldn't gossip. I only came to borrow a knife.”

“I have one.” Massimo pulled his cleaver out of his belt. “Will this do?”

She went cross-eyed for a moment looking at it. “Oh, my. Ah, yes, that will more than do it, thank you.” She took it from him as if afraid it would explore. “You're not from the boy, are you?”

“No. I live in Portorosso,” Massimo said.

The woman nodded. “I did think I would surely remember you if I'd seen you before. I'm Deodata Razza.”

“Massimo Marcovaldo.” He shook her hand, only remembering afterwards that this wasn't how sea monsters greeted each other. She looked puzzled, but she rallied.

“Can I fix you something?” she asked cautiously. “As a thank you? My house is just over the rise.”

“No, thank you. I will stay here and wait for the Macarellos,” Massimo decided. They would be able to tell him if the kids had found Flavia and were now on their way back.

Signora Razza looked relieved. “I'll bring it right back,” she promised, and swam away in a hurry.

---

Massimo would have been horrified if he'd known where Antonio Macarello and the kids were at that moment – still sitting in the jail cell under the nervous eye of Officer Ippolito. Luca and Giulia were seated on either side of Antonio on the cell's little bench, while Alberto let the policeman know exactly what he thought of the situation.

“We didn't do anything wrong!” he said, shaking the bars like he'd seen in cowboy movies. “Just being a sea monster isn't a crime!”

“You were... you were disturbing the peace,” said the policeman.

“We were not! It was the lady at the zoo who made a big scene,” Alberto reminded him. “We just wanted to see some animals.”

Ippolito held up his hands. “Look,” he said nervously. “My job is to make the people in this town feel safe, and they don't feel safe when weird creatures are wandering the streets disguised as children.”

“It's not a disguise,” said Alberto.

“What do you call it, then?”

“It's just what we do, Sir,” said Luca, standing up. “When we get out of the water we look like humans. It's not even on purpose.” He thought for a moment. “Except for Alberto.”

“Yeah, Alberto can do it on purpose,” Giulia agreed.

Alberto looked the officer in the eye and demonstrated, which made Ippolito yelp and stumble back a couple of involuntary steps.

Through all of this, Antonio just sat with his head in his hands. “Cod almighty,” he moaned, “why didn't I just listen to my parents. They told me it was a terrible idea, hanging out with humans.”

Alberto rolled his eyes as he changed back, prompting another startled twitch from the police officer. “It's not that bad when dumb things like this don't happen. Have your parents ever even come up here?”

“Mine did, a long time ago,” said Luca. “Them and my Uncle Ugo. It was during the war – that's why they thought it was dangerous.”

Antonio shook his head and leaned back against the wall. “When they caught me getting back in the water, they told me, humans aren't pets. They're cute when they're little but they grow up and get mean. I was an idiot and I didn't want to lose my friends, so I thought, fine, I'll hang out with them for now when Mom and Dad aren't looking, and when we're older I'll stop. I'll be able to tell when they start getting dangerous.

“And you know, time went by and we all grew up. I went to Ippolito's wedding,” he gestured to the officer, who was watching warily from a corner, “and that made me think, I probably shouldn't be doing this anymore. We're adults now, they might turn on me at any moment. I married Felicia and she's terrified of the surface so I figured I'd stay away, but I got curious and wandered into town one day. Ippolito and Ruggero and Graziano were happy to see me, and next thing I know Thursdays are card nights. Felicia thought that was fine, because she's got a cousin or something she sees on Thursdays, so she never found out, and I honestly thought I could get away with it forever. Now... it's just like Mom and Dad said,” he sighed.

“It's not your fault you were hanging out with lousy humans,” said Alberto. “Most of them are fine.”

Officer Ippolito was, of course, still in the room, and he'd come a little closer as he listened to Antonio's story. “If you were so scared of us,” he said, “why did you show yourself back there?”

“Because I thought you might let the kids go if I could show you we weren't dangerous,” Antonio said. “I thought about telling you before, but I always chickened out.”

“So congratulations on being a jerk,” said Alberto.

Ippolito grimaced. He looked like he felt guilty, so Luca decided to try just asking again. “Like I said, Sir, we're just looking for our friend. If you let us go we'll find her, and then we promise to leave and never come back.”

The policeman appeared to think about it, but then he shook his head. “I... I've got to follow procedure,” he said. “I'll lose my job. Too many people already know about it.” He started pacing up and down the room. “I've already phoned the mayor. He's coming all the way back from Campania to see you. I...” he gave them a pleading look.

“Macché?” asked Alberto.

The door between the office and the room with the cell opened, and another man stuck his head in. “Ippolito?” he asked. “The witness is here.”

Ippolito nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Great! Bring her in!”

The door closed again, only to re-open a few seconds later to reveal the woman from the zoo. She was dressed in dry clothes now, without the sunglasses and kerchief, but she was just as horrified to see them.

“Ah, Signora Pepitone,” said Ippolito, ushering her in. “Are these the children you saw?”

She didn't answer. Instead, she pushed past him and stormed right up to the bars to look Alberto in the eye. “What have you done with the girls?” she demanded.

Nobody knew how to react to that. Alberto had no idea what she was talking about. He looked over his shoulder to see if the others knew. Luca shrugged, and Giulia could only shake her head. Antonio Macarello just continued sitting there with his head in his hands.

“What girls?” asked Luca.

“Don't you play innocent!” Signora Pepitone shook a finger at him. “Flavia and Perla are gone, and I know you had something to do with it! How did you get into my apartment?”

“Flavia's in trouble?” asked Alberto.

“She was safe as long as I was looking after her!” said Signora Pepitone. “Her father was coming to get her and everything was going to be fine, but you just couldn't let her escape, could you? What have you done with them?”

“Her father?” Alberto looked at the door. The second police officer was waiting there, with another man – a familiar one. “Uncle Leonardo!”

“Don't listen to him!” Signora Pepitone whirled around to hold up a warning hand. “Even if he looks like your nephew, he's not! He's some kind of creature! I saw it for myself!”

Alberto stuck his tongue out at her back and transformed again. The younger policeman cried out in surprise, and Leonardo groaned, but by the time Signora Pepitone turned around again to see what they were reacting to, Alberto was back to human.

“Stop that.” Giulia gently cuffed his shoulder. “You're gonna make it worse.”

“Madame,” said Ippolito. “Can I take this to mean you've identified them? These are the same creatures you saw earlier, and we can tell the town they're safely in custody?”

“Yes,” said Signora Pepitone, and eyed Alberto again. “You can't lie to me. I see right through you. What have you done with Flavia and my granddaughter.”

“We haven't seen Flavia since we left her with you at the zoo, Madame,” said Luca.

“And we've never even met your granddaughter,” Giulia added.

Ippolito put an arm around Signora Pepitone's shoulders to escort her out. “At the moment we can't prove they're involved, Signora, so let's do the investigation properly.” He passed her on to the other policeman, and Leonardo Scorfano took her other arm. “Tell Officer Bianchi where and when you last saw them, and we'll go from there.”

Leonardo looked over his shoulder with an apologetic grimace, then turned away to help with Signora Pepitone. The kids didn't know what to do. They couldn't call him out in front of all these people who were afraid of sea monsters, but maybe he could come up with something to help. The only thing they could do was wait.

Officer Ippolito shut the door.

[danco110]

“We have come to bring the glory of Phyrexia to-”

“Yes, yes, yes! I’ll be with you in just a second, ma’am! One moment, please!”

“Oh. Er…very well.”

Atraxa waited awkwardly, hovering above the street as an artist muttered to herself from behind a large canvas.

“Were you one of the Park Heights Cathedral statues, perhaps?” the painter asked quietly.

Atraxa frowned. “No. My forces and I hail from New Phyrexia. As I was saying, we bring glorious-”

“Oh, where’s that?” chimed the painter. “Somewhere on the lower levels? Near the Caldaia, perhaps?”

“What- No! We come from another world! Have you not noticed the Realmbreaker in the sky above you?”

Finally the artist peeked out from behind her canvas, curiously eyeing Atraxa’s four-armed form, ornate porcelain armor, and triangular headgear.

“Another world, huh? I guess that explains the…fashion.”

Atraxa said nothing, but tensed almost imperceptibly. Meanwhile the painter ducked back behind her canvas. After nearly a minute of silent waiting, the angel raised her voice once more.

“This…is not a negotiation! We are here to bring you perfection, whether you want it or not!”

“Of course, of course!” chimed the painter. “And…I think that about does it! What do you think?”

“What do I…?”

Atraxa fell silent at the sight of her likeness, painted onto the canvas the artist had turned so she could see. The painter took this silence for satisfaction, and smiled.

“Like it?”

“Ye- No.” Atraxa quickly corrected herself. “It would not fit the style of the Fair Basilica. And…besides! This is still a conquest!”

The artist rolled her eyes. “Well, why don’t you take it anyways? You’ll find a place for it, I’m sure. Anyways, you were about to kill me or something?”

Atraxa’s frown deepened. “Instill you with glistening oil, but I suppose you’ll consider that similar enough, at least until the process allows you to recognize the glory of Phyrexia.”

“Right...” The artist watched stoically as Atraxa raised her spear.