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Dust and Ashes

Where: The Sirens Den When: Nearing the End of Act 1 Who: @nixplorer

By the program resting on her bouncing leg, there were only a couple more scene until intermission. Lavender didn’t know if she could last that long. Sitting still and quiet for do long in the very crowded dark was getting to her. She couldn’t even run to the bathroom -sh had blown that excuse 2 scenes ago.

You can do this. She silently cheered herself on as she attempted to focus on the stage and not all of the beings hidden in the dark theater seats around her that could be hiding even darker intentions. Less than a minute later, her eyes unfocused from the actors on stage once more. Her leg bounced at full speed as her line of sight once again - probably for the hundredth time- trailed around the theater her and the other Phi Phi Omega witches sat in. She had to admit, it was extremely opulent. Lavender didn’t doubt for a second that a vampire was the source. Not many others had the excess funds to throw at a place like this - or as gaudy of tastes.

From the gold bedecked balustrades lining the balcony boxes, Lavenders gaze swept down the line of girls to her right and left. Maybe they wouldn’t notice if she slipped out to the bathroom again so soon - she could always blame it on the drinks - and just meet up with again at intermission... Her eyes didn’t finish their trip down the line, coming to a stop on the witch seated just on her left.

Phoenix sat stiffly, knuckles white as they clenched the arms of her seat. Her face was nearly as pale, a ghostly shade that starkly contrasted the blaze of light - no, magic - that burned in her eyes.

“Nix...” Lavender whispered to her childhood friend, falling back on a nickname she hadn’t used in years. Cautiously, Lavender places her hand atop Phoenix’s clenched fingers. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” The anxiety that had been filling Lavender about all of the hidden faces pressed around her switched instantly to worry for her friend. She didn’t know what was happening, but it couldn’t be good.

#tcevent #p: dust and ashes #phoenix 02

This particular area of the education district seemed to be remarkably empty. Perhaps the aversion that those raised in ordinary society seemed to have extended even to those afflicted with this bizarre illness. Though Norman had never himself been in a real school of any kind, he disliked the daily exams that had encompassed several hours of the morning each day for much of his life, so he could relate well enough to the sentiment.

Regardless of why, the area seemed to be far more secure and far less thoroughly searched than the rest of the city. He had already picked up a few previously unnoticed fragments (though he still wasn’t entirely convinced they weren’t still materializing throughout the city). It wasn’t what he’d set out to do today, but he wouldn’t say no to the added benefit. Their benefactors had rather kindly failed to specify how many fragments, precisely, would be needed to help effectively repair the firewall. And no, he was not bothered by the lack of information at all, thank you very much.

The boy looked between the map projected from his Triplicata and his surroundings, passing between two of the several large buildings in the area. They all seemed to be spaced further apart than most of the city, with actual grassy lots surrounding some of them, or compounds of several buildings that seemed to belong to the same institution. This was one of the latter. Norman disliked how open the area was (a campus, he thought it was called), but it had at least been a far less populated area so far.

Hmm... Up this way and I can get to the bridge past that set of buildings...

...Or not. To his surprise, a group of citizens seemed to be scouring the area, in bushes and trees and along the buildings. He almost thought, for an instant, that they were in their right minds -- and then his heart sank. A few of them were holding quartz fragments, seeming to clutch them almost victoriously with a wild look in their eyes. Infected citizens, then. He could stand to gain a few more fragments from this, but there had to be fifteen of them, easily -- even with the iron pipe-turned-walking staff in hand, it was a little risky to engage with nowhere to really hide and little cover to trick them.

They hadn’t caught sight of him, though. Luck was on his side, or perhaps he’d grown used to holding back, looking around every corner, checking over his shoulder. A rather sad state of affairs, but not something he could say he was unhappy about, exactly. He turned to backtrack, watching over his shoulder to ensure none of them had seen him. There was a turn he’d passed a little way back, the long way around one of the buildings -- it would have to do. But when he reached it, there was another there, beginning to head the direction he’d just come from.

“Ah, don’t go this way --” he started to warn, keeping his voice down, and paused. Mr. ... Dewfresh Man? Or, what was it... Norman wasn’t used to remembering so many faces and names, and while the man had left an impression, he couldn’t quite remember his name. He smiled politely instead, in recognition. “Hello again.”

@casterofturnabout