#mu:task

[r3m3mb3r-m3-n0t]

Name: Elias Hart

Age: 25

Species: Aware

Circle: Mortalis

Known Relationships: Connor Talbot II (Boss), Matthew Coleman-Reyes (Roomate), Esmeray Talbot (Friend?), Sebastian Harker (Boyfriend???) Thaddeus James (Indebted to), Cameron Kiskadden, Kel Trebond, Chloe Li (A-Team)

— What's your name?

He eyed Kel with a grin, deciding not to comment on how embarrassing it must have been to ask such a silly question to the people they knew, “Elias Bartholomew Hart,” a pause “I’m kidding. Elias Sullivan Hart.” He fiddled around in the kitchen, darting this way and that before plating a piece of freshly set pie and placing it in front of the other, “Coconut cream. Tell me how it tastes. Tweaked the recipe and I’m wondering if it’s too much coconut and not enough cream. Eat it before it melts.” He pulled out the chair across from Kel and plopped down into it as if it was the first time he stopped moving that day, as he breathed out it seemed the apartment sighed with him; both settled comfortably into their bones. He made no move to hide how he stared pointedly at the recorder placed perfectly in between the middle of them, “Is that necessary? Will this be played for the court?”

— How do you know Tabitha Spencer?

He shook his head, a long and drawn out movement for an emphasis that others wouldn’t get to see, “I don’t. Didn’t talk to her during the party. Watched her. Listened. The only reason I know of her is because I’m friends with Bash. Though. From what I’ve gathered. She doesn’t seem like...” his gaze fell to the recorder and he snapped his mouth shut, teeth making an audible click “Doesn’t matter. Just useless conjecture.”

— How do you know Jose Alves Cruz?

He sucked air between his teeth and raised his shoulders to his ears, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrowed, “He’s the mayor?” He looked towards Kel, silently asking if that was correct, “I don’t follow politics, so I don’t know much- Oh! He’s Jo’s dad. Dodgy dude. It seemed like-” gaze once again fell onto the recorder, “It seemed like this was the type of event he was used to. Bodyguards and all.”

— How do you know Hollis Fiala?

The gleam in his eyes dulled as he set his jaw, every muscle in his body tensed as if he was about to pounce with claws out to tear through even the tiniest sound, “They’re a circle leader.” And that was all he had to say.

— Did you see the shot happen/what happened that night from your perspective?

“I did not. But I heard it.” This particular question had caught his full attention, words waiting on his tongue for the chance to spill out when no one could catch them “There were two shots, but only one bullet. Not because it was lost or lodged into something. It was. Not. There. There was no second bullet. A perfect distraction if you ask me, cause the crowd to rile…u..p” His gaze snapped up to meet Kel’s, eyes wide with realization before it was quickly distinguished by an awkward laugh, “Uhm. Everything was Chaos. It was good that Hollis’ healing went well. They’re lucky it was just the shoulder, honestly one of the best places to get shot.”

— When did you get the invitation for the party/know you were going to work it?

He hummed, “In the mail. I can’t recall when. Probably around the same time everyone else did, that’s how the postal service works. Mine was different though.” Elias reached into a wooden stand hung up on the wall and plucked out the invitation, giving it to the other, “Mr. Thaddeus was rather adamant on me coming. Why, you may ask? I don’t know. The group didn’t even need me, you had two other capable healers. Suppose I went to watch someone get shot again.” And leave with nothing, is what he wanted to say but decided against it.

— Did you go with someone?

“Kind of.” He fiddled with the edge of the fraying tablecloth that hung precariously off the table, put there minutes before Kel walked through the door in a poor attempt to spruce it up, “You were there. Don’t you know?-“ He cut himself off, remembering a bit too late that this was all a formality, “You, Chloe, Matthew, Lilith, Bash, and Cam. I didn’t go with someone specifically though. Which was for the best, it was a terrible night. Everything was off, we did everything right. From the looks of it, it seems like…” he sighed, “It was weird.”

— Do you own a gun/have you ever owned a gun?

He made a choked sound that was immediately covered by a forced laugh, “Uh. No. Never. They’re dangerous.” He pushed away from the table, picking up the dirty plate as he walked towards the kitchen sink, “Though. I suppose they’d be needed now more than ever.” The dish clattered amongst leftover silverware, “I’ve shot one before. Weird bonding exercise with my college hockey team.” Facing away from Kel he shut his eyes tight and white knuckled the edge of the counter, maybe he said too much?

@midnightunderground-npcs

[magic-by-nora]

His Ex

A strong mental ward can take up to ten days of work to complete, or so other wizards have told her. It’s about the thoroughness of one’s work, to ensure there is not a piece of the mind’s potential that is untouched. No one has ever believed that Nora could make one in half that time, but she was used to them not believing in her. For this special occasion, she gets started on it early, unsure of how constant headaches as of late would affect her turnaround time. 

It doesn’t, but it does allow her to take her time as she ensures that no one will be able to pierce her thoughts or feelings on the day of this wedding. Especially Esme.

Anger brewed deep in her as she began the preparations and sat herself in front of a mirror for the next several hours, an arrangement of star anise, marigold, and other carefully measured ingredients laid out around her for easy access. Why did it have to be Connor? Of all the people in the Underground, why him? Nora already knew the universe hated her but this was a low blow even for them. The thought of them being together had only just formulated in her head, still foreign and uncomfortable, but she could figure out where to put it. For Esme, she would figure out how to fit him back into her life. And now they’re getting married. 

Marriage was never on the table between her and Connor, not in any real seriousness. They talked about it in the way middle school children pretended they knew what they wanted to be when they grew up but between arguments, Nora always knew in her gut that she couldn’t marry him. But the unspoken truth never stopped Catherine Talbot from whisking her away any time she saw her, and asking how she felt about a spring wedding before the heat got the best of them, and about the various wolf traditions around it and how Nora should consider not inviting her family if they were skittish about them. Nora was used to these types of things from family members (any time she had dated someone for more than a month her aunts and uncles would tease that they needed to check her hand for an engagement ring) but the way Connor’s mom gripped her arm and the eager look behind her eyes frightened her. It was an expression she was becoming increasingly used to seeing in her own mother’s eyes. A wizard added to their pack would be good. A wolf child with her powers would be better. A branch of her life Nora was grateful that she would never have to walk down, but the carefully crafted invitation at the corner of her desk kept whispering at her what if. 

She burned the invitation before even starting with the wards on her third day. 

When their relationship fell apart, Nora knew he would never be able to leave her life completely, not while she was in the Underground, but the city was large enough that she could feasibly stay away from his sphere and she could stick to hers. They could walk by each other once a year and then forget the other existed in between that. It wasn’t perfect but it worked. And she wouldn’t lie and claim she didn’t enjoy making him sweat a little any time they happened to be at the same party.

Esme deserves better. A thought that solidified in her mind the moment the fae admitted her feelings for the wolf. Admittedly, there was nothing excessively wrong with Connor, but, in her eyes, there was nothing right either. He was a good guy, but his own baggage would always get the better of him in the end. Connor never knew how to let things go, even when she begged him to. And Esme deserved someone as vibrant as she was, who wouldn’t drag her down with his traumas and fears. 

But he gave up his wolf for her. Hypocrite to the end. How many times did they scream at each other because he knew her magic would kill her one day and here he was doing the same thing. But at least he did it for Esme. At least Nora knows that he loves her. It helped ease her anxieties for her friend at the very least. Unfortunately, it also meant that he was mostly responsible for bringing her back and she had to be grateful to him. But she has gotten so good at hating him…

By the end of the fourth day of her casting of the ward, the guilt had already mixed in with the hate. She couldn’t help Esme. She created another mess that Connor had to fix. Connor who always made a problem worse by choosing the most dramatic of solutions. He gave his wolf for her. There were a million other ways they could have fixed this problem but of course he chose that. And it’s her fault. Because she couldn’t go with them to the fae realm to bargain for her life. Because she asked Esme to take her to the fae realm in the first place. Because…. The ward would prevent that from seeping through as well.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Any past, good or bad, she had with her best friend’s fiance shouldn’t stop Nora from being anything but excited for Esme to be marrying someone she loves. It doesn’t matter that it was Connor as her husband and that this only came about because of her foolish mistake.

But it does. It does fucking matter. And a small part of her that she has tried so desperately to lock away believed that he would show Esme the darker parts that she had never seen in Nora. The reasons why they would have never worked out. The selfishness that Nora chose to embrace, lest she start drowning. He could convince her for once that Nora really wasn’t worth her time… 

The ward finished right in time, strong and firm over her thoughts and emotions for the next few weeks. She would be safe during the bachelorette and the wedding. And no one will be able to see anything beyond her happy smile for a friend she loves so dearly. As she prepared for the festivities to begin, she thought that maybe it wasn’t even needed–that her anxieties got the better of her and she really would only be happy for Esme today. She caught a glimpse of the gray dust on her work table. No, she is very grateful for these wards. 

[midnightunderground-hq]

MEMORIES OF MAGIC AND WHERE TO FIND THEM

While any other individual will only meet ten or so unapprehended murderers in their lifetime, the average inhabitant of the Midnight Underground will interact with ten-or-more fantastical beings on any given day ( and even more if you know where to look ). When the preternatural is all around, it begs the question: how long can one exist in untouched bliss before the fantastical consumes them? 

This task, if you so choose to accept it, will require some introspection...

We humbly ask that you paint a pretty picture of that very first time— you know the one. For those having gone through life unawares, this first is about that moment when your eyes opened. Fantastical beings had existed in the corners of your vision for so long, and then they’d suddenly come front and center. 

For those on the other end of the spectrum...if memory serves, we all remember that first bit of acne that comes with pubescence, the menarche, the works. When did you realize that you were something other than human? Had you always known?

Now let’s not forget those in between. What happened when? Was this your first encounter with the preternatural? How did you react & how did you cope? They say children acquire languages the easiest, I assume such is the same where magic is concerned...if you were thrust into this world at a later age, was it difficult to navigate? Has time eased these hardships? There are so many more questions I could ask, but then, I don’t wish to overwhelm you. 

I don’t need to be made privy of your entire life story ( trust me when I say I’ve seen it all firsthand ), but I’d like you to highlight this one moment and tell it as you remember it, I’m always wishing to see the perspective of you younglings— moreover, it’s the topic that I’m most interested in at current.

As I’m sure you all know, tasks are not mandatory but highly encouraged for character development and more! Where these are concerned the world is your oyster as far as formatting— you can do anything from self paras, to visuals and all that falls in between, just make sure to tag all tasks with #mu:task upon posting! As always, we look forward to reading! 

Yours faithfully,

[esmerays]

[ Night Falls and  Hermia Looks Upon the Moon... ]

If then true lovers have been ever crossed, It stands as an edict in destiny.

She shouldn’t have been left to her own devices— not since she was pulled back from the edge of nothingness; not since her essence had morphed into some dark cloud, weighing her down as the days passed.

Rumination had become the new standard for the faerie, her mind supplying endless reminders of the guilt and self-hatred she felt following the queen’s second attempt at an execution. Hers had been a droplet disturbing still water, its ripple effect an unending stream of tribulations for the people in her orbit. Theirs were a most unfortunate gallery of faces.

It would be best to leave them behind— it would’ve. 

As it was, Esmeray should’ve left long before the consequences of her actions contaminated the people she loved. Before she’d ever even grown these mortal attachments. 

What should have been an outlier quickly became the norm, as the peri collected all forms of love in the Greek ethos ( though she’d never truly been able to grasp philautia ). Before she’d realized it, Esmeray had spread her poisoned affections around the Midnight Underground like the very blight she’d released on the Ezania flowers in her homelands— she was destined to destroy all those things she touched.

Mother Below, she should have made off when she had the chance. Why hadn’t she done so all those days before? Why had she even allowed these people to sway her thoughts in another direction?

Had she been steadfast in her convictions, she’d have avoided this. 

Happiness with the wolf was nothing but a castle in the air, and the daydream was slowly becoming a waking nightmare. The pain he’d been feeling was manifesting itself as a lingering discomfort in her bones, made greater by the knowledge that she was the sole reason for the wolf’s ailment— it would make her ill, but maybe she was deserving of this punishment. She’d carry this part of the burden without complaint; Connor’s suffering was now her own. 

After the smaller ceremony between herself and her betrothed, Esmeray had sequestered herself to the velveteen loveseat in the small room, pulling her knees to her chest as she tried to calm the torrential rains of her mind. 

So soon as they’d performed their liturgy, the flowers of their bond began blooming in her heart: tulips, alstroemerias, sunflowers and roses, forced through an endless cycle of blooming and wilting. It wasn’t anything she’d ever felt before, but all those things she’d felt for Connor had been firsts.

Moments of happiness, jealousy, ecstasy and anger. There was elation wrapped in trepidation, and a sense of mourning for those customs she’d never partake in, she’d never—

Her thoughts stutter to a stop as her ears were filled with a familiar sound. 

Esmeray and her brothers had spent the colder seasons running through the halls of the castle, causing chaos and hiding in the aftermath. When she’d pushed the bounds a little too far, Nesim and Fahri would hide their little sister in the kitchen cupboards, with the promise that they’d find her again when the fires had settled. 

After some time one of them would come looking for her, rapping their knuckles against the wood in a rhythm the three peri kinderlings had created amongst themselves— it’s the very same sound that has Esmeray tripping over herself to get to the door. She’d hoped her brothers would be in attendance, but had tempered those expectations before this moment. 

When the faerie makes it to the door, she nearly pulls it off its hinges, Nesim’s name falling from her lips before she’s even caught sight of the person on the other side of the door. Hope breeds eternal misery after all. 

The person that greets her isn’t her dear Nesim nor her darling Fahri; instead, she finds herself face to face with the Fae Heir, looking smug as ever, “did my selves do the tappings in the corrections? I am in the rememberings of the knockings that your selves and your brethren did the partakings of, theretofore,” the naiad pushes past Esmeray before she can even think to close the door, “the puppy boy has not done the runnings from your selves, still? These would be in the likings of your primary bindings...though and all, my selves are in the attendances, yes?”

She would have strangled them then and there— would have ripped them apart with her bare hands had she released herself from the shackles of her self control. 

But she couldn’t. Love weighed her down, kept her on a short leash. 

If she hurt Hollis now, then Esmeray wouldn’t be the only one hurting from the consequences of her actions, and Mother Below, she’d hurt him enough. More than she’d ever wanted to. So she forces a smile, clasping her hands and nodding her head, “courses, I am in the tallest of gratitudes, thus.”

The Heir looks pleased with themself then, smile growing wider as they set themselves down on the loveseat Esmeray had previously occupied. If the bride to be is confused, it shows, “do not do the holdings of the shockings. I am inside the taskings of the observances...your selves will not do the fleeings once and again, yes? Our selves are in the knowings of the endings theretofore. Do the behavings, thus, I am in the wishings of the bindings of the tallest happinesses.”

[clemxjohnson]

Name: Emmett Johnson

Faceclaim: Peter Gadiot

Age: 36

Circle: Mortalis

Occupation: Hunter/Mechanic

Clementine will be the first person to tell you that her brother, Emmett Johnson, is not a bad person. He’s simply a man trying to make the best he can of a world he was thrust into unwittingly as a child. Emmett is the first child of the Johnson’s, the only one born of their flesh and blood, and he was always a good kid. An All-American football star in High School, an Honor Roll student since Middle School, and the pride and joy of the Johnson family. They were picture perfect.

Until they became aware. 

Now, that wasn’t Emmett’s fault. It was the fault of his Father being in the wrong place at the wrong time. An incident with seeing a Werewolf turn, a near fatal attack, a rescue by Damian Harker; Frankly, it was all a little blurry. Emmett had never been given the full story, only small bits recounted by his Mother and Father, and the bits he could hear them talking about from the top of the stairs. 

Damian promised the family safety if they were to follow his instructions carefully, and not question him. That he would not allow some Vampire or Werewolf to get to them. To turn their son. To turn any of them. They’d be safe if they were to allow themselves the protection of the Mortalis clan. 

Emmett can vividly remember the way he stood, standing like a Superhero, chest puffed, head held high, commanding attention and power— Emmett wanted to be just like that, too. He wanted to be able to protect his family, and he wanted to feel strong and powerful. Emmett wanted to be a Hunter, just like Damian Harker was. Of course, he was Eight, so that was basically out of the question. Though, he never stopped dreaming. Never stopped preparing. Playing with toy weapons, and earning his archery and shooting patches at Boy Scouts before anyone else. He did what he could to make himself noticeable and indispensable so Damian would want him to join his Hunters.

But, two years later, when Damian Harker entered their home, it wasn’t with a letter of invitation to proper training. It was with a little girl slated to become his little Sister. At the time, the explanation of who she was, and why his parents were so weary to take her went over his head. 

The Orator’s Child. Unwanted. Half Vampire. Malleable. 

It wasn’t until he was older, staring down at Clementine in her crib as fangs tore through teething rings that he realized that Damian had brought a little monster into their home. Though he was right about one thing, she was malleable. It didn’t take long for their parents to teach Clementine that she was not to extend her fangs in anyone's presence. She was not to drink the blood of any human, or she’d be seen as a vicious monster. She was not to expose her status as Supernatural to anyone under penalty of death by those in the Midnight Underground. Who knew if that was true, but it was good enough to keep Clem out of trouble. 

But, it never felt like enough. It never felt like a good enough reason to let sleeping dogs lie. Which is why, when Emmett turned Sixteen, he took matters into his own hands. He approached Damian Harker with a proposition: His continued silence on the Matter of Clementine, as well as his Parents’, for the ability to become a Hunter. 

Extorting someone as powerful as Damian seemed dangerous, but with a smile, Damian agreed. Emmett would become a Hunter, and Clementine’s identity would remain a secret. 

Emmett is not a natural born Hunter. He doesn’t get the advantages of strength that people in the Kiskadden Clan might. But, he was young, and trainable, and that seemed good enough for Damian who took Emmett under his wing. He was taught how to use different weapons, how to face down the dangers of the underground with a brave face. He was taught the history of the different Monsters of the Underground, and all the ways they could bring him or his family harm. But, more importantly, he was taught how to defend himself against it if it ever became time to do so. 

They did not Hunt for sport. They hunted to survive. But, there was an unspoken order to things, one Emmett could not break. And, so he didn’t. But, that didn’t change the underlying prejudice he held against some of the more volatile creatures of the Underground. People like his Sister, but who hadn’t been taught correctly. They hadn’t been warned that they were lethal, and taught to be as benevolent and passive as Clementine was. If they could all just be more like Clementine, life would be better for them. 

That was a job for him, now. To keep Clementine, and everyone like her, aware of their place in the world. 

[midnightunderground-hq]

BINDING BELLS ARE RINGING, MAKE YOUR WISHES!

My children, love is in the air! Or is that duty? I can’t tell because they smell so similar with these two: putrid and tainted with sorrow. How unfortunate it is that the faerie and wolf have been forced to recite our beautifully sacrilegious nuptials ( though I must say, it’s a little more fun this way ).

You’ve all been invited, I’m sure— must be so exciting! There’s no way for the Cicerone and I to receive wedding invitations across the veil, but that’s never stopped an uninvited guest, right? Your little city and its ongoings are my favorite form of entertainment, and I’ll always be watching. But don’t let that stop you from enjoying yourselves! My darling tells me that the venue is lovely, and the decorations even more so; very reminiscent of flowers and their thorns. 

Nerium oleander is such a gorgeous flower, but it’s consumption will lead to death, my loves.

Still, don’t let the realities of the world hinder the fervor of your celebrations. A union such as this is quite a beautiful thing and it should be enjoyed to the fullest extent. Moreover, the betrothed have kept their heads.

Tell me then, what of the preparations? Ceremonies of the unholiest of matrimonies require months if not years of preparations, though we’ve been given, what? Seven days? Tragic, but it can be done. I’m curious to know how you’ve been spending these days in preparation. How have you been feeling about the news? Do you have any reservations or outright objections towards the marriage? Do you think it’ll last? I know our little Cerese went and made the decree, but I’m wondering if she’d reverse it ( not that faerie bindings of this kind can be reversed...not unless you wish to curse the faerie to a life of emptiness ). What are you all thinking? And what is your role, if any? A guest or something more?

Finally, you must show me what you’re wearing! I know this is a last minute extravaganza, yes, but there’s got to be something in those closets of yours. Will you be wearing a dress or a full tuxedo? Something in between? I know this may seem like a shotgun wedding, but will you be treating it like a casual affair? 

Oh forgive the twenty questions, but I cannot get over the excitement! 

Dearies, the final message is always the same ( mostly ): tasks are not mandatory but we highly encourage them for character development and the like! Where these are concerned the world is your oyster as far as formatting— you can do anything from self paras, to visuals and all that falls in between, just make sure to tag all tasks with #mu:task upon posting! Send the newlyweds our best wishes, please and many thank yous!

Yours faithfully,

[magic-by-nora]

Name: Mateo Navarro

Nickname: Matty

Age: 43

Faceclaim: Oscar Isaac

Circle: Mortalis

Occupation: Hunter of the Navarro clan

Mateo had never known his father. His uncle had told him that he was strong, stronger than most other members in their family who had indulged in their gift. He had lasted longer than everyone else before him, an impressive three years, and the family thought that maybe he was blessed to surpass the curse. But he had lost his mind shortly before his son’s first birthday. His uncle had been the one to end him.

“Just because our name is cursed, it doesn’t mean you are.” His uncle’s favorite words to him and the mantra of the Navarro clan.  Based in El Paso, Texas, the Navarros have prided themselves in being the strongest of hunters due to the nature of their family curse. After all, how many hunters have heard the call to power and said no? Others are quick to remind them that it might be the fear of insanity that prevented them from reaching for said power, but that was neither here nor there. Still the connection they once had to magic had them attuned to the supernatural world around them and even though they can no longer access those powers, they vowed to use their lives for the betterment of others and their own.

That was how things were for the Navarros. You ignored the whisper, the call to something dangerous and consuming. It was a constant presence until the curse and all that comes with it would eventually fade from your mind, usually before you left your teenage years. And once it passed over you, that’s when your real life began. All Mateo wanted was to join his aunts, uncles and cousins in the family business, pushing away the hum of magic and reaching for a different sort of weapon. 

The family trained to fight those who abused their powers specifical, mostly within the Power circle, but they made sure other creatures still saw their end once if they deserved it. But their most important task was finding other Navarros, ones who could not deny the temptation, and put them to rest. It was a somber affair, but an honor to be chosen. And every few years, one would be chosen to leave the home base and track down any other Navarros across the world to release them of their misery. Some were against these trips (particularly because there were rumors that not all who were slain had reached insanity yet), but the vast majority agreed that it was a necessary kindness.

Mateo yearned to be chosen for such an important task and trained with a fervor. He wore every scar as a badge of honor and pushed himself beyond what any hunter was capable of. His ruthlessness was off putting to some, but he believed it necessary. He would not allow more children to be orphaned due to the recklessness of powerful people. 

He refused to ever set his weapons down, not for the woman he claimed to love or the three children she gave him. Not even when she threatened to leave him if he went on yet another year-long journey to kill members of his own family. He was a hunter. He was a Navarro. 

Until his daughter used magic for the first time. The resulting year was a blur of anxiety and dread, but he held her in his arms when her time came. He put her out of her misery.

One last trip, he told himself. He would make sure not a single stone was untouched and he would track down every branch of their family tree. Only then would his work be finished and he would finally let himself rest. 

It took him six years, but he did it. He had one last stop in Las Vegas before returning home but there was so much wonton corruption and misuse of power and he was still a hunter. Until he tracks down the last member of his family, one Leticia Navarro, perhaps he will help fix this Midnight Underground.

[magic-by-nora]

Nora put on her best dress once before for the Orator, though she hadn't realized who it was at the time.

Back then, all she had to her name was a ticking time bomb, the dress her mother hand stitched for her quinceanera the year before, and, according to her grandfather, a wish. He mentioned the name to her once when she had came home with dried blood and tears on her face, his only form of condolence before her mother whisked her to the bathroom to change. Moira Devlin owes this family a debt. Had her grandfather any sense, he would have schooled the girl in what a debt was instead of letting little Leticia Navarro walk up to the most powerful woman in the Midnight Underground and demand her help. But Leti had already felt the cold sense of nothingness grip her brain, leaving her dumb long enough that she missed her stop on the bus. She had no intention of feeling it ever again.

To Moira’s credit, she hadn’t tossed the sixteen year old out the minute she heard her name like all of the others Leti had seen before. She heard the girl speak, gave her a smile that Leti considered kind and then gave her exactly what she wanted: hope. Only then did she toss Leti away to the cold, her debt paid.

Cruelty was Leti's reasoning at the time for such an act. How else could you explain abandoning a teenager to the murky waters of the Midnight Underground? Nora knew now that she would have done the same. It wasn't personal; it's how the Underground works.

In the years since then, as Leti became Nora Lucas, she felt the Orator’s eyes on her, a chill that only she could summon from her. Nora spent every day wondering whether Moira would tell people who she truly was--if she would snatch the life Nora tried to build for herself away. The relief that filled her once she heard of her passing was tantamount to the hope that that same woman once gave her.

So, Nora dressed in her best dress once more for the late Orator and carefully put on her make up. She would only say kind words to those who askeed and plaster on a mournful smile for those who didn't. For better or worse, Moira Devlin taught her how the Underground worked.