10-14-2014, 11:48 PM
dusk
Time passes
Lucy recovers. By Sunday her dreams are no longer plagued by the haunting images she glimpsed from the summer months. By Monday morning when she closes her eyes all she sees is the red-black blankness of light's attempt to filter through her closed eyelids. By Monday afternoon she is restless. She made a promise to the spirit of Jeremy Tran. Time has passed and she's made no progress. That is not time Lucy considers wasted, but it was time's lapse just the same
Monday evening she speaks to Delilah of what needs to be done. It will be a massive undertaking, this. They will need to work together if they hope to be successful.
-----
Time passes.
Lucy and Delilah rise before dawn's first rays pierce the sky. Lucy prepares the mirrors. She has a thing for mirrors. Their surfaces reflect the Truth. Their surfaces allow her to See. She has several of them, not all of them special (in fact most of them aren't). The sky is lightening to a dusty blue as Lucy hangs one small mirror from a hook nailed in between the bricks at the front of their house, facing the east. She places another on the outside wall, facing the south, facing the west. She even tucks a small bit of reflective glass to an out of the way section on the north side of their duplex. These reflective surfaces have not been washed in pure water and bathed only in the light of the moon, they do not radiate a bitter, biting cold, their surfaces do not appear to be frosted over, obscured by Lucy's cold touch amplified by her cold resonance. These mirrors are not special, but they will do. They will protect the sisters from a wandering eye or a devouring resonance, they will reflect these things away from them.
Inside, Lucy makes new preparations. She gathers up her special mirror, as well as her special antique silver scissors and her silver-etched, blue rune stones. She even collects her silver lotus incense burner. These tools of ritual that connect her to her Avatar are brought into the living room, where they've cleared a space of the hardwood floor. Lucy bends at the waist, places each of these special items on the floor, then drops lightly to sit cross-legged. The incense burner she places a little to the side, out of the way but not so far that they do not benefit from the sharp, pungeant odor of the burning incense. Her other tools she places directly before herself.
Time passes, and the sisters prepare.
dawn
Monday, she speaks to Delilah of what needs to be done, Delilah-on-her-way-out, Delilah ever-present, always-fleeting swift-before, Delilah who squeezes Lucy's arm and says of course and good and how metal-ore mined she is how hard-backed how, well, the delicacy of air and milk-light is an illusion, dawn is inevitable, invincible, unconquerable, Delilah she knows or Lucy says they will need to work together if they hope and of course they hope this pair they will need to work together to be successful and oh, so
Time passes,
and Delilah always wakes before dawn, loves that darkness with a fervor, as she's never loved a lover, see, loves it like she'd wrap herself up in it, loves to watch it diminish and transform loves the half-light of the morning when the evening star is transmuted and Lucy is preparing mirrors
and Delilah takes out her box of locks and keys, locks and keys, locks and keys, some stained with rust, some stained by other things, and this is time-consuming part of what consumes time is choosing just the right focus for her mind just the right look it is intuitive
it is once upon a time, there was inspiration;
o, heaven ascend, a muse of fire
and anyway, while Lucy is setting the mirrors around, Delilah has set out three locks of different metals the metals are not special they are chosen for their look, and each one has a key, and she has a silver chain where-upon the keys are threaded, and she visits each mirror east to west following the sun and she drinks a great deal of water.
They do this in their home they do this with the windows closed the curtains drawn they do this at the gloaming-time owl-light bat-song time they do this, sister pale and sister dark, radiant and gelidus. They do this all day long, light-long, they do this calling out from work or cancelling classes they must teach not busking they stay at home.
Time passes, once upon now becoming once upon then, then becoming once, once becoming now, time passes, oh doesn't it?
Delilah has another box and in the box are needles and any kind, every kind, of embroidery thread, and this she chooses between, conferring with Lucy and deciding against the willow-hoop: they want to be nearer, this time, they want it to matter
so the boxes are at hand and time passes and then it is time for the first rite the first ritual the first rote the first
lock against prying eyes, against following-back, against I-see-you
Lucy's show, Lucy's point, Lucy's lead
dusk
Lucy leads. This does not mean she takes charge, that she separates, that she commands. She leads the way one foot leads before the other when a body starts to walk. They are one, after all. Light and dark, dusk and dawn, two sides of a coin. Two halves of the whole.
Lucy leads. The sisters sit together, long legs crossed, knees bent, backs together. The dusk sister is dressed in black, or mostly black. Black cutoffs, black tank top, slashes all down either side, sides ending in ties, with a transparent panel on the back on which is embroided the white stitched bones of a spine. Her legs are bare, the swan-in-flowers on her right thigh etched in black that stands out against her pale skin. Her hair colored like the clouded sky at sunset falls free over her shoulders.
She moves the silver mirror (a serving bowl purchased in a department store on a lark a long, long time ago, it has the vague shape of a leaf, the curved stem a handle on one side) forward holds it in both of her hands; the surface clouds, frosts over at her touch. Breathes in deep the scent of the incense, feels it burn in her lungs and tingle in her veins, charging them. Purifying her and preparing her to be a better conduit for a more powerful Mind than her own.
They begin.
For Lucy, it begins with a prayer. "Dusk Handmaiden, protect us. Defend us from those who would wish us harm."
For Lucy, the glass in her hands remains clouded. She is the oracle of a harsh, sharp, cold, forgotten deity. It is not always easy to connect. Lucy breathes in slowly, slowly. Exhales slowly, slowly, slowly, until she has to push the last breath from her lungs. It is a struggle not to gasp, to inhale quick and sharp and fast, but the Dusk Handmaiden wouldn't have chosen her if she couldn't be strong. When she breathes in again she can feel the power that ripples beneath her skin. All at once the mirror in her hands clears and she sees: East, from the mirror on the front of the house; West; South; North. She feels the thread of power as it weaves and threads in-out-in-out around the house, tying it together. She feels Delilah against her back, feels the house at once grow colder and more radiant.
dawn
Ah! radiance, filaments threading, in and out and out and in, gelidus, frost-rimed, frost-glimmering, shivering in the half-light, a luminous up-swell; out and in and out and in, back to back, spine to spine, and Delilah has her hair all knotted up a coronet of braids and she is wearing comfortable clothing clothing one can bleed on but one can bleed on any clothing but picture her in white, perhaps, or pale grays, dark grays, picture her sleeves rolled up, her arms a graceful picture, picture her taking in a deep breath and holding it and she does not</p><p>she does not
ask Dawn, Handmaiden of a forgotten myth, a lost story, to protect them; does not ask for the power to lent; it is her power; she is the fucking myth; she and her sister and her sister is a supplicant
and Delilah hums Lucy's name hums under her breath in counterpoint to Lucy's prayer the chorus knows to hold a poise which supports the principals just so and she
she takes her first lock, locks it fast, keeps the key inside and ties it around with a thread, snip, sets that lock before her,
and again she locks the lock snaps it shut sets this lock between the pair at their tailbones
and again she locks the lock another lock three locks remember and this she settles the key still inside in front of Lucy
and she pushes, she pushes and she burns and she glows and she hopes for inspiration to strike, to sizzle, to be mused, and
when they've reached it when it's done
Oh, once upon a time, in a room in a house in clothing modern the animals locked away the day taken from work for Work, two young women not bound by blood, but myth-resonant, marrow-connected, spirit by spirit and now knee to knee silver bowl in the middle needles in hand thread colors colors chosen for hunger and finding and ill-luck and the finding of ill-lock time to ply the thread right now they
now they (once upon a time, Snow Dusk, Rose Dawn, Dawn White, Dusk Red, Red Dawn, Dusk White) now they, eye to eye,
they -
dusk
- bring on their visions. Bring on their Sights, for now is the time to Look and the time to See.
Delilah and Lucy, Lucy and Delilah. Light and Dark, Dark and Light. They cast their gazes to each other and they cast their Sights beyond.
First there is the mirror, set on the floor between them.
"Dusk Handmaiden, show us-"
then there are the stones, worked carefully betwen Lucy's long and fine-boned fingers, tink tink tink upon the mirrored surface of the bowl
"-when-"
a breath, an inhale of scented smoke, exhale, a threading, Lucy's threads (nothing special, or rather nothing Special, the threads are purple and gold, deep blood red and black) through Delilah's lock, tying them together, tying their Wills together
"-their-"
Lucy's scissors, then, silver and antique and ornate, the creases of the ornate handles slightly tarnished, the blades mirror-bright
"-Fates-"
Time passes. The day is ending, dusk is falling, the night is coming. Lucy's voice cuts off, her head rolls back as the vision takes her, and she Sees...
...
Time passes. The vision releases her. It is evening. Side by side, arms linked, the sisters continue.
dawn
Not a lock this time, no; or not only. This time it is a key, an ornate key, a many-handled key, a key with whorls and loops and in and out and out and in, the needles passed back and forth back and forth forth and bacck forth and back lock and key opening and snip
the scissors; the pressure, the weight of it, the different fragments of thread;
down into the smoke, onto the silver, and Delilah watches Lucy's face, her expression avid, bright-limned, hopeful, brash-girl shifts her hair darkened as the light begins to leave to some barbaric drenched-dream treasure-thing and
dusk is falling
dusk is falling
dusk is falling
they are calling, calling, side by side by side by side
finding, finding, finding, smoke again, a match-struck, a candle-tipped, incense whispering up and this time it is only a skeleton key a skeleton key that has no door that has no lock and it sways
it sways in time to Lucy's calling for the Dusk Handmaiden's help
and Delilah, she thinks, as she pushes oh yes, pushes,
as skin to skin body to body cold to warmth they push together,
Delilah thinks, ah. Yes, just so; the way it turns, this is good
and Lucy, oh, it's all Lucy darling, isn't it?
"We're going to find them," she says, "We're going to find you," she says, and of course they are: look at them; won't they?
Her eyes are closed. Her eyes were open but they've gone from half-light endless threshold to this other threshold and Delilah can feel it trembling, liminal, opening, that's what this is: an opening as well as a finding, protected still, yes, but nonetheless:
an opening, an errant comet, a constellation pointing;
this is how you find Hunger, now, this is how one tries to spy on Hunger, ravenous, ravenning, and Delilah's eyes are closed
but she is listening to Lucy as they work, hum to help, take that complementary pose once more, and oh
her fingers ache as if she'd been all day searching haystacks for needles and stacks of needles for a straw of hay, has been weaving flax into swans, the ache is getting into her joints, and so
dusk
Lucy is waning. It is her time, her night, her Quest, and she is waning, flagging, her Will draning out from the effort of holding, holding, hold, hold, hold onto that strength, that power. The warmth of her sister clashes with the cold of her own skin, from the touch of her own Avatar, that blessing that marked her as Other so long ago.
She will not fail.
She promised. She will not fail.
They will not fail.
Time passes and they are nearing the end, light at the end of the tunnel. Light of Truth, light of Finding, light of the found. They know where they will be, they have their Plan B (or is it something else?), now for the now. Time for the present, and to See where they are.
"Dusk Handmaiden," Lucy begins, body aching in a way that it usually doesn't, a way that it can't. Her bones ache like from cold, but she's full of cold, isn't she? Full of frost, overflowing with the cold of the Underworld, the cold of the Keeper of the Dead, and she, Lucy, her Speaker.
"show them to me, please. Allow me to fulfill my promise."
Arm threaded through Delilah's, she leans against her sister for strength and for support. This is the hard part, she thinks. It's one thing to look ahead, it's another to see where those nightmare creatures (men? are they still men? or are they hosts to something far more sinister than Man?) are right this moment. To know where they are, how close or how far. To know and to remember
no. No.
Lucy focuses, mirror in hand, freshly lit incense smoke filling her nostrils, her lungs, her body. Together, they work to find them in the now...
...
And then it is over.
Lucy sags, but Lucy - like Delilah - never fully sags. Her muscles hold to many memories of "Stand up straight, Lucy! Shoulders back, Lucy!" to ever fully relax. But it's obvious that she's weary. The night is full on around them now, their home dark but for the light that filters in through the cracks in the curtains, and the sense of radiance that still hangs in the air around them. Lucy rolls her shoulders, then sets down her mirror to dig fingertips into her trapezius. It's done. There will be another step, and another. There is more work to do, more than ever, but first they must rest. They must recharge.
"Tomorrow we should go to the chantry and recover what we can." She does not say it with any sense of eagerness or anticipation. The chantry's node is a hot spring and Lucy has winter in her skin. She is not looking forward to it, but alas, it must be done.
dawn
They're probably exhausted. The animals are hungry (can they stand hunger, now?). Delilah lies down flat once they're finished, done, the end of the tale, the end of the tale is now, tale-end, tail-end, finis, and her legs are crossed but her back is straight her spine is straight against the hardwood floor and she exhales in a whoosh and she yawns and her jaw cracks and,
"I've never been to the chantry," she says, somewhat muted; but Lucy already knows that. Her voice is paper-blank;
"All that's left is to dream," and here, this sweet-blooming thing of a smile; perhaps it's tinged with sadness, horror, worry, who knows: she is pellucid, transparent, see everything swimming in her skin,
inhale,
exhale.
[long story short: 9 successes on a Corr 2+Mind 1 (against "ravenous" resonance) ward | 7 successes on Corr 2+Ent 2+Time 2+Mind 1 scry for auspicious location/likely time+location of next attack | 7 successes on Corr 2+Mind 1 trace resonance
Lucy: 2 successes on a percept+dream
Delilah: 4 successes on a percept+dream
dusk @ 8:12PM
[Step 1: Warding: Corr 2 + Mind 1 to keep out the devourers (and Kiara too probably, unfortunately). Diff 5 -1 (taking time) -1 (Specialty Foci)=3, going for maximum successes (arete+WP=8), duration = 1 month]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (2, 7) ( success x 1 )
dusk @ 8:12PM
[extending, +1, dropping WP]
Roll: 2 d10 TN4 (4, 7) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
dusk @ 8:12PM
[extending]
Roll: 2 d10 TN4 (1, 6) ( success x 1 )
dusk @ 8:13PM
[extending, dropping a WP]
Roll: 2 d10 TN4 (3, 3) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
dusk @ 8:15PM
[extending, dropping a quint]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (2, 3) ( success x 1 )
dusk @ 8:16PM
[extending! last time c'mon girl! -1Q]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (1, 5) ( success x 1 )
dusk @ 8:16PM
[8 suxx!]
dawn @ 8:19PM
[base diff: 5. no foci here (+3), just: halping to ward. +wp! we're burning through it all tonight, sis. then we're going dancing! diff. taking time. -1. we'll see.]
Roll: 2 d10 TN7 (4, 6) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
dawn @ 8:22PM
[we will extend once. +1 diff. -1 quint! we'll see what brash boldness gets us!]
Roll: 2 d10 TN7 (2, 2) ( fail )
dusk @ 8:23PM
[9 suxx total for ward!]
dusk @ 8:37PM
[Step 2: Locate Auspicious Events: Corr 2 + Time 2 + Entropy 1 + Mind 1 to find the next likely place of attack from the "ravenous" ones. Diff 5 -1 (taking time (All night, huh? Good thing night is my prime time.)) -1 (specialty foci). Threshold = 7 (1 to pull off, 1 within a year, 5 (briefly touched/met via scrying)]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (7, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
dawn @ 8:39PM
[halping. base diff: 5. only foci for entropy, pretty entropy, so +3 again (?). delilah is toooootally dropping more quintessence. -1. SO LONG, quintessence. hopefully i will go to a node soon. -1 time. is. taken. +wp.
Roll: 2 d10 TN6 (2, 8) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
dusk @ 8:44PM
[extending! -1Q]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (5, 8) ( success x 2 )
dusk @ 8:44PM
[7 suxx!]
dusk @ 8:50PM
[Step 3: Trace resonance. Corr 2 + Mind 1. Diff 5 -1 (taking time) -1 (specialty foci). Threshold = 6 (1 to pull off, 5 (briefly touched/met via scrying)]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (5, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
dawn @ 8:52PM
[halping! same as all of the above. *hand-wave* but thiiiiiis time: -1 taking the time to do this right. -2 quint, goodbye quint. +wp because what up..]
Roll: 2 d10 TN5 (3, 9) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
dusk @ 8:54PM
[extension! FIND THEM *EYE OF SAURON* +WP because now I'm hella nervous]
Roll: 2 d10 TN4 (2, 5) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
dusk @ 8:54PM
[7 suxx!]
dawn @ 8:54PM
[*stamp*]
dawn @ 8:55PM
[Wait, we are one another's witness. Habit.]
dusk @ 8:55PM
[*doublestamp!*]
dusk @ 9:01PM
[percept+dream: how to you solve a problem like cannibals?]
Roll: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )
dawn @ 9:01PM
[Perception + Dream?]
Roll: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 8, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
[edited because somehow i managed to post the dice rolls twice]
Time passes
Lucy recovers. By Sunday her dreams are no longer plagued by the haunting images she glimpsed from the summer months. By Monday morning when she closes her eyes all she sees is the red-black blankness of light's attempt to filter through her closed eyelids. By Monday afternoon she is restless. She made a promise to the spirit of Jeremy Tran. Time has passed and she's made no progress. That is not time Lucy considers wasted, but it was time's lapse just the same
Monday evening she speaks to Delilah of what needs to be done. It will be a massive undertaking, this. They will need to work together if they hope to be successful.
-----
Time passes.
Lucy and Delilah rise before dawn's first rays pierce the sky. Lucy prepares the mirrors. She has a thing for mirrors. Their surfaces reflect the Truth. Their surfaces allow her to See. She has several of them, not all of them special (in fact most of them aren't). The sky is lightening to a dusty blue as Lucy hangs one small mirror from a hook nailed in between the bricks at the front of their house, facing the east. She places another on the outside wall, facing the south, facing the west. She even tucks a small bit of reflective glass to an out of the way section on the north side of their duplex. These reflective surfaces have not been washed in pure water and bathed only in the light of the moon, they do not radiate a bitter, biting cold, their surfaces do not appear to be frosted over, obscured by Lucy's cold touch amplified by her cold resonance. These mirrors are not special, but they will do. They will protect the sisters from a wandering eye or a devouring resonance, they will reflect these things away from them.
Inside, Lucy makes new preparations. She gathers up her special mirror, as well as her special antique silver scissors and her silver-etched, blue rune stones. She even collects her silver lotus incense burner. These tools of ritual that connect her to her Avatar are brought into the living room, where they've cleared a space of the hardwood floor. Lucy bends at the waist, places each of these special items on the floor, then drops lightly to sit cross-legged. The incense burner she places a little to the side, out of the way but not so far that they do not benefit from the sharp, pungeant odor of the burning incense. Her other tools she places directly before herself.
Time passes, and the sisters prepare.
dawn
Monday, she speaks to Delilah of what needs to be done, Delilah-on-her-way-out, Delilah ever-present, always-fleeting swift-before, Delilah who squeezes Lucy's arm and says of course and good and how metal-ore mined she is how hard-backed how, well, the delicacy of air and milk-light is an illusion, dawn is inevitable, invincible, unconquerable, Delilah she knows or Lucy says they will need to work together if they hope and of course they hope this pair they will need to work together to be successful and oh, so
Time passes,
and Delilah always wakes before dawn, loves that darkness with a fervor, as she's never loved a lover, see, loves it like she'd wrap herself up in it, loves to watch it diminish and transform loves the half-light of the morning when the evening star is transmuted and Lucy is preparing mirrors
and Delilah takes out her box of locks and keys, locks and keys, locks and keys, some stained with rust, some stained by other things, and this is time-consuming part of what consumes time is choosing just the right focus for her mind just the right look it is intuitive
it is once upon a time, there was inspiration;
o, heaven ascend, a muse of fire
and anyway, while Lucy is setting the mirrors around, Delilah has set out three locks of different metals the metals are not special they are chosen for their look, and each one has a key, and she has a silver chain where-upon the keys are threaded, and she visits each mirror east to west following the sun and she drinks a great deal of water.
They do this in their home they do this with the windows closed the curtains drawn they do this at the gloaming-time owl-light bat-song time they do this, sister pale and sister dark, radiant and gelidus. They do this all day long, light-long, they do this calling out from work or cancelling classes they must teach not busking they stay at home.
Time passes, once upon now becoming once upon then, then becoming once, once becoming now, time passes, oh doesn't it?
Delilah has another box and in the box are needles and any kind, every kind, of embroidery thread, and this she chooses between, conferring with Lucy and deciding against the willow-hoop: they want to be nearer, this time, they want it to matter
so the boxes are at hand and time passes and then it is time for the first rite the first ritual the first rote the first
lock against prying eyes, against following-back, against I-see-you
Lucy's show, Lucy's point, Lucy's lead
dusk
Lucy leads. This does not mean she takes charge, that she separates, that she commands. She leads the way one foot leads before the other when a body starts to walk. They are one, after all. Light and dark, dusk and dawn, two sides of a coin. Two halves of the whole.
Lucy leads. The sisters sit together, long legs crossed, knees bent, backs together. The dusk sister is dressed in black, or mostly black. Black cutoffs, black tank top, slashes all down either side, sides ending in ties, with a transparent panel on the back on which is embroided the white stitched bones of a spine. Her legs are bare, the swan-in-flowers on her right thigh etched in black that stands out against her pale skin. Her hair colored like the clouded sky at sunset falls free over her shoulders.
She moves the silver mirror (a serving bowl purchased in a department store on a lark a long, long time ago, it has the vague shape of a leaf, the curved stem a handle on one side) forward holds it in both of her hands; the surface clouds, frosts over at her touch. Breathes in deep the scent of the incense, feels it burn in her lungs and tingle in her veins, charging them. Purifying her and preparing her to be a better conduit for a more powerful Mind than her own.
They begin.
For Lucy, it begins with a prayer. "Dusk Handmaiden, protect us. Defend us from those who would wish us harm."
For Lucy, the glass in her hands remains clouded. She is the oracle of a harsh, sharp, cold, forgotten deity. It is not always easy to connect. Lucy breathes in slowly, slowly. Exhales slowly, slowly, slowly, until she has to push the last breath from her lungs. It is a struggle not to gasp, to inhale quick and sharp and fast, but the Dusk Handmaiden wouldn't have chosen her if she couldn't be strong. When she breathes in again she can feel the power that ripples beneath her skin. All at once the mirror in her hands clears and she sees: East, from the mirror on the front of the house; West; South; North. She feels the thread of power as it weaves and threads in-out-in-out around the house, tying it together. She feels Delilah against her back, feels the house at once grow colder and more radiant.
dawn
Ah! radiance, filaments threading, in and out and out and in, gelidus, frost-rimed, frost-glimmering, shivering in the half-light, a luminous up-swell; out and in and out and in, back to back, spine to spine, and Delilah has her hair all knotted up a coronet of braids and she is wearing comfortable clothing clothing one can bleed on but one can bleed on any clothing but picture her in white, perhaps, or pale grays, dark grays, picture her sleeves rolled up, her arms a graceful picture, picture her taking in a deep breath and holding it and she does not</p><p>she does not
ask Dawn, Handmaiden of a forgotten myth, a lost story, to protect them; does not ask for the power to lent; it is her power; she is the fucking myth; she and her sister and her sister is a supplicant
and Delilah hums Lucy's name hums under her breath in counterpoint to Lucy's prayer the chorus knows to hold a poise which supports the principals just so and she
she takes her first lock, locks it fast, keeps the key inside and ties it around with a thread, snip, sets that lock before her,
and again she locks the lock snaps it shut sets this lock between the pair at their tailbones
and again she locks the lock another lock three locks remember and this she settles the key still inside in front of Lucy
and she pushes, she pushes and she burns and she glows and she hopes for inspiration to strike, to sizzle, to be mused, and
when they've reached it when it's done
Oh, once upon a time, in a room in a house in clothing modern the animals locked away the day taken from work for Work, two young women not bound by blood, but myth-resonant, marrow-connected, spirit by spirit and now knee to knee silver bowl in the middle needles in hand thread colors colors chosen for hunger and finding and ill-luck and the finding of ill-lock time to ply the thread right now they
now they (once upon a time, Snow Dusk, Rose Dawn, Dawn White, Dusk Red, Red Dawn, Dusk White) now they, eye to eye,
they -
dusk
- bring on their visions. Bring on their Sights, for now is the time to Look and the time to See.
Delilah and Lucy, Lucy and Delilah. Light and Dark, Dark and Light. They cast their gazes to each other and they cast their Sights beyond.
First there is the mirror, set on the floor between them.
"Dusk Handmaiden, show us-"
then there are the stones, worked carefully betwen Lucy's long and fine-boned fingers, tink tink tink upon the mirrored surface of the bowl
"-when-"
a breath, an inhale of scented smoke, exhale, a threading, Lucy's threads (nothing special, or rather nothing Special, the threads are purple and gold, deep blood red and black) through Delilah's lock, tying them together, tying their Wills together
"-their-"
Lucy's scissors, then, silver and antique and ornate, the creases of the ornate handles slightly tarnished, the blades mirror-bright
"-Fates-"
Time passes. The day is ending, dusk is falling, the night is coming. Lucy's voice cuts off, her head rolls back as the vision takes her, and she Sees...
...
Time passes. The vision releases her. It is evening. Side by side, arms linked, the sisters continue.
dawn
Not a lock this time, no; or not only. This time it is a key, an ornate key, a many-handled key, a key with whorls and loops and in and out and out and in, the needles passed back and forth back and forth forth and bacck forth and back lock and key opening and snip
the scissors; the pressure, the weight of it, the different fragments of thread;
down into the smoke, onto the silver, and Delilah watches Lucy's face, her expression avid, bright-limned, hopeful, brash-girl shifts her hair darkened as the light begins to leave to some barbaric drenched-dream treasure-thing and
dusk is falling
dusk is falling
dusk is falling
they are calling, calling, side by side by side by side
finding, finding, finding, smoke again, a match-struck, a candle-tipped, incense whispering up and this time it is only a skeleton key a skeleton key that has no door that has no lock and it sways
it sways in time to Lucy's calling for the Dusk Handmaiden's help
and Delilah, she thinks, as she pushes oh yes, pushes,
as skin to skin body to body cold to warmth they push together,
Delilah thinks, ah. Yes, just so; the way it turns, this is good
and Lucy, oh, it's all Lucy darling, isn't it?
"We're going to find them," she says, "We're going to find you," she says, and of course they are: look at them; won't they?
Her eyes are closed. Her eyes were open but they've gone from half-light endless threshold to this other threshold and Delilah can feel it trembling, liminal, opening, that's what this is: an opening as well as a finding, protected still, yes, but nonetheless:
an opening, an errant comet, a constellation pointing;
this is how you find Hunger, now, this is how one tries to spy on Hunger, ravenous, ravenning, and Delilah's eyes are closed
but she is listening to Lucy as they work, hum to help, take that complementary pose once more, and oh
her fingers ache as if she'd been all day searching haystacks for needles and stacks of needles for a straw of hay, has been weaving flax into swans, the ache is getting into her joints, and so
dusk
Lucy is waning. It is her time, her night, her Quest, and she is waning, flagging, her Will draning out from the effort of holding, holding, hold, hold, hold onto that strength, that power. The warmth of her sister clashes with the cold of her own skin, from the touch of her own Avatar, that blessing that marked her as Other so long ago.
She will not fail.
She promised. She will not fail.
They will not fail.
Time passes and they are nearing the end, light at the end of the tunnel. Light of Truth, light of Finding, light of the found. They know where they will be, they have their Plan B (or is it something else?), now for the now. Time for the present, and to See where they are.
"Dusk Handmaiden," Lucy begins, body aching in a way that it usually doesn't, a way that it can't. Her bones ache like from cold, but she's full of cold, isn't she? Full of frost, overflowing with the cold of the Underworld, the cold of the Keeper of the Dead, and she, Lucy, her Speaker.
"show them to me, please. Allow me to fulfill my promise."
Arm threaded through Delilah's, she leans against her sister for strength and for support. This is the hard part, she thinks. It's one thing to look ahead, it's another to see where those nightmare creatures (men? are they still men? or are they hosts to something far more sinister than Man?) are right this moment. To know where they are, how close or how far. To know and to remember
no. No.
Lucy focuses, mirror in hand, freshly lit incense smoke filling her nostrils, her lungs, her body. Together, they work to find them in the now...
...
And then it is over.
Lucy sags, but Lucy - like Delilah - never fully sags. Her muscles hold to many memories of "Stand up straight, Lucy! Shoulders back, Lucy!" to ever fully relax. But it's obvious that she's weary. The night is full on around them now, their home dark but for the light that filters in through the cracks in the curtains, and the sense of radiance that still hangs in the air around them. Lucy rolls her shoulders, then sets down her mirror to dig fingertips into her trapezius. It's done. There will be another step, and another. There is more work to do, more than ever, but first they must rest. They must recharge.
"Tomorrow we should go to the chantry and recover what we can." She does not say it with any sense of eagerness or anticipation. The chantry's node is a hot spring and Lucy has winter in her skin. She is not looking forward to it, but alas, it must be done.
dawn
They're probably exhausted. The animals are hungry (can they stand hunger, now?). Delilah lies down flat once they're finished, done, the end of the tale, the end of the tale is now, tale-end, tail-end, finis, and her legs are crossed but her back is straight her spine is straight against the hardwood floor and she exhales in a whoosh and she yawns and her jaw cracks and,
"I've never been to the chantry," she says, somewhat muted; but Lucy already knows that. Her voice is paper-blank;
"All that's left is to dream," and here, this sweet-blooming thing of a smile; perhaps it's tinged with sadness, horror, worry, who knows: she is pellucid, transparent, see everything swimming in her skin,
inhale,
exhale.
[long story short: 9 successes on a Corr 2+Mind 1 (against "ravenous" resonance) ward | 7 successes on Corr 2+Ent 2+Time 2+Mind 1 scry for auspicious location/likely time+location of next attack | 7 successes on Corr 2+Mind 1 trace resonance
Lucy: 2 successes on a percept+dream
Delilah: 4 successes on a percept+dream
dusk @ 8:12PM
[Step 1: Warding: Corr 2 + Mind 1 to keep out the devourers (and Kiara too probably, unfortunately). Diff 5 -1 (taking time) -1 (Specialty Foci)=3, going for maximum successes (arete+WP=8), duration = 1 month]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (2, 7) ( success x 1 )
dusk @ 8:12PM
[extending, +1, dropping WP]
Roll: 2 d10 TN4 (4, 7) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
dusk @ 8:12PM
[extending]
Roll: 2 d10 TN4 (1, 6) ( success x 1 )
dusk @ 8:13PM
[extending, dropping a WP]
Roll: 2 d10 TN4 (3, 3) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
dusk @ 8:15PM
[extending, dropping a quint]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (2, 3) ( success x 1 )
dusk @ 8:16PM
[extending! last time c'mon girl! -1Q]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (1, 5) ( success x 1 )
dusk @ 8:16PM
[8 suxx!]
dawn @ 8:19PM
[base diff: 5. no foci here (+3), just: halping to ward. +wp! we're burning through it all tonight, sis. then we're going dancing! diff. taking time. -1. we'll see.]
Roll: 2 d10 TN7 (4, 6) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
dawn @ 8:22PM
[we will extend once. +1 diff. -1 quint! we'll see what brash boldness gets us!]
Roll: 2 d10 TN7 (2, 2) ( fail )
dusk @ 8:23PM
[9 suxx total for ward!]
dusk @ 8:37PM
[Step 2: Locate Auspicious Events: Corr 2 + Time 2 + Entropy 1 + Mind 1 to find the next likely place of attack from the "ravenous" ones. Diff 5 -1 (taking time (All night, huh? Good thing night is my prime time.)) -1 (specialty foci). Threshold = 7 (1 to pull off, 1 within a year, 5 (briefly touched/met via scrying)]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (7, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
dawn @ 8:39PM
[halping. base diff: 5. only foci for entropy, pretty entropy, so +3 again (?). delilah is toooootally dropping more quintessence. -1. SO LONG, quintessence. hopefully i will go to a node soon. -1 time. is. taken. +wp.
Roll: 2 d10 TN6 (2, 8) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
dusk @ 8:44PM
[extending! -1Q]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (5, 8) ( success x 2 )
dusk @ 8:44PM
[7 suxx!]
dusk @ 8:50PM
[Step 3: Trace resonance. Corr 2 + Mind 1. Diff 5 -1 (taking time) -1 (specialty foci). Threshold = 6 (1 to pull off, 5 (briefly touched/met via scrying)]
Roll: 2 d10 TN3 (5, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
dawn @ 8:52PM
[halping! same as all of the above. *hand-wave* but thiiiiiis time: -1 taking the time to do this right. -2 quint, goodbye quint. +wp because what up..]
Roll: 2 d10 TN5 (3, 9) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
dusk @ 8:54PM
[extension! FIND THEM *EYE OF SAURON* +WP because now I'm hella nervous]
Roll: 2 d10 TN4 (2, 5) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
dusk @ 8:54PM
[7 suxx!]
dawn @ 8:54PM
[*stamp*]
dawn @ 8:55PM
[Wait, we are one another's witness. Habit.]
dusk @ 8:55PM
[*doublestamp!*]
dusk @ 9:01PM
[percept+dream: how to you solve a problem like cannibals?]
Roll: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )
dawn @ 9:01PM
[Perception + Dream?]
Roll: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 8, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
[edited because somehow i managed to post the dice rolls twice]
