IceAndWave/ThingsFallApart

Things Fall Apart

In which reports are made, unfortunate acquaintances remet, and something very precious stolen...

The 9th Day of Ascending Earth, Realm Year 763

The gleaming stone barriers that Whitewalls takes its name from have been visible for a couple of days, as Sian and Aia return to the city after their excursion to Five Peaks and beyond. The journey has been cold but quite rapid, thanks to the magic of the Old Road, and the large iron-bound gates soon loom over their heads as they walk past the queue of merchants and the guards who nod as Sian returns home once more.

The bustle of Whitewall hasn't diminished, with crowds of people filling the narrow streets, the sounds of street traders hawking their wares blending with the general thunder of thousands of people out on the streets doing the humanity thing.

Sian wanders quietly down the streets to his home, one arm loosely about Aia. He shakes her gently to wake her up, after having decided to forgo the last night's sleep in hope of making it home earlier, but the trip was a bit too much for the her. "Hey. We're here."

Aia blinks and looks around, "Home," she smiles, and leans against Sian, obviously very tired.

"Home, yes." He leads her up the stairs to his apartment.

Aia collapses onto the bed, asleep before she hits the mattress, and immediately begins to snore - something that she does blessedly little.

Sian smiles faintly at her, dressing her down to her underwear gently and slipping her under the thick blankets. He writes a quick note explaining his absence in case she should wake up, cleans himself up a bit, and goes to the Syndics' palace to make his report.

The palace of the Syndics is as it was, as it always is, a tall white building, surrounded with guards, in which the triplet god-kings of Whitewall dwell. Sian is let in without fuss or fanfare, climbing the steps back to the waiting room, where Sliding Joy is, as usual, waiting, "The Syndics are having an audience with a visitor to our city. If you would care to wait I am sure that they will not be too long."

"Of course. After a fortnight of travel, sitting down is perfect." He grins, and takes a seat off to the side.

The sun moves slowly across the sky as Sian waits, time passing slowly. Sliding Joy scuttles suddenly across to the door and opens it just as a silhouette walks out, a humanoid figure formed entirely out of blackness, with glowing red eyes and the intimation of white teeth.

"The Syndics will see you now," Sliding Joy says to Sian, as she ushers the figure out through a side door of the waiting room.

Sian frowns deeply at it, but doesn't get time to do anything before Sliding Joy has removed it. He walks into the main chamber.

The trio of ice-and-silver figures glide across the floor of the chamber in one of their strange almost-dances, circling and twirling around Sian as he walks forwards, "Our emissary has."

"Returned. May we assume that you."

"Were successful in dealing with."

"The problem at Five Peaks?"

"Yes, my lords. Extremely so." He relates the details of the trip in excruciating detail, having long-ago learned the Syndics' love of particulars.

"We see. How unfortunate that."

"The jealousy of a brother could."

"Cause so much pain. We."

"Do not share such emotions, but we."

"Understand that others do."

"Indeed. But, as a result, Sena Riel and her husband will be rather well-disposed towards us in future, I suspect."

"Your star is rising, young."

"Terrestrial. With your slaying."

"Of a dread beast, and your."

"Handling of the Five Peaks situation, your."

"Name is being spoken in wider circles."

"Well, more influence is always good. Though the rewards mean little to me... my life here is comfortable."

"We understand. The city of."

"Whitewall has no current need."

"Of your services, the world has."

"Been quiet of late. You may."

"Return to your home. We will."

"Send for you should we need."

"You."

With that the three spirits cease their dance and glide away from Sian, leaving him alone.

Sian takes this for the dismissal it is, but is rather irked that he didn't get to ask about the black spirit. He heads out. Uncharacteristically, Sliding Joy isn't waiting as Sian leaves the audience chamber, and in fact the entire palace appears to be empty.

Sian looks around curiously as he makes his exit.

The streets of Whitewall are still as bustling and busy as ever, with crowds of people walking to and fro in the busy streets of the city. Bright sunlight fills the streets with harsh shadows, and Sian is left to ponder the events of his audience.

Sian does ponder, muchly, as he makes his way home. Hoping that Aia has learned her lesson, and is still there.

Aia is, indeed, still in the apartment, although the empty bed, the underclothes scattered on the floor and the steam pouring from the bathroom give a large clue as to where she might be.

What a shocking turn of events! Sian is rather amused, wandering into the bathroom and shrugging off his shirt.

Aia is laying back in the bath, almost floating in the steaming water. She turns her head and smiles as she sees Sian enter, "Hey..."

"Hey." He pulls up a footstool and uses it as a seat. "Have a good sleep?"

"Lovely. There were nice dreams, too." She sits up, covered in foam, "How did your audience go?"

"Good and bad." He looks vaguely uncomfortable.

"Anything you can talk to me about?" Aia looks concerned.

"Sort of. But I don't want to worry you."

"I won't worry," Aia moves back, "Join me in the bath, then tell me."

Sian sighs, stripping out of his remaining clothes and settling in behind her. He relates the events of the meeting, and just before it, which of course leads into him revealing the existence of the black thing coming into his bedroom while Aia slept.

Aia shudders at the thought of being watched, "And it never said anything more? Do you know what it is? Who it is?"

"Looked like some sort of death-spirit. From the local shadowland, I'd guess." He gives her a reassuring squeeze. "I don't like that the Syndics were meeting with it."

"Can't you ask them?"

"They didn't give me time. I might go back later."

Aia leans back against Sian and sighs, "Did the creature say anything that might be a clue or give you an idea about it?"

"Not that I recall. It had a master, but didn't say who."

"Brr... I wish I hadn't asked now."

"Poor catgirl." He kisses each of her ears. "Told you you'd worry."

"I know," she shivers, "It's my own fault."

"Mhmm." He holds her gently.

Aia stays in the bath until the water turns cold, obviously thinking about the black spirit-creature and its master's interest in her. Sian himself doesn't mind the cold water, but he nudges her gently nonetheless. "Hey. Water's cold."

"Oh. I hadn't noticed." Aia shivers again, this time from the cold, and slides out of the bath, grabbing a towel and beginning to dry herself off, warming herself in the process.

Sian takes over, somewhat naturally enjoying the whole process.

The drying done, Aia pulls her clothes back on, her skin tinged a deep ruby red by the late afternoon sunlight, and she looks out through the window and over the city, lost in thought.

Sian sits on the bed after dressing himself, looking at her with concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just trying to think why anyone would want to hurt me."

"To hurt me, as selfish as it sounds. I did stop those necro-beasts, remember."

"True," she looks at you, "Did they ever find out how they got into the city?"

"No. We stopped up the hole, but we've still got no idea who did it."

"What would they do to the people who dug that hole?"

"Turn them out to deal with their 'friends'. Or the Fae."

"So they're probably hiding somewhere...?"

"Most probably. But it's a big city, and there are only so many guardsmen."

Aia nods and hugs Sian, kissing him deeply, "Well, I'm glad I have you to keep me safe."

"And I'm glad to have you to keep safe." He grins, wrapping his arms around her. "Just don't do anything silly, and I'll do my very best to look after you."

The 10th Day of Ascending Earth, Realm Year 763

The next day dawns brightly, with only a few clouds in the sky, and with a distinctly Aia-shaped hole in the apartment. Her clothes are gone, the bath is empty (although recently used), and a small note lies on the bedside table.

Sian sighs, letting himself wake up a bit before stretching across for the note.

The note reads simply, "Gone to buy some clothes. Back later. Love, Aia..." there is a wet kiss mark on the bottom of the paper.

Sian finds himself to be faintly amused. He yawns, lying in bed for another few minutes before eventually hauling himself out to go and get washed up.

Noon arrives and departs without ceremony and, more importantly, without Aia.

Sian hrms to himself, sitting at the table and eating a light lunch (having not spotted any signs of her earlier when he went to restock his food supply). He decides to go out and search, somewhat worried. The streets of Whitewall are filled with the mass of humanity, jostling ceaselessly as the inhabitants make use of the daylight to do what they need to do. Seller bawl out entirely inaccuracte descriptions of their goods, couples argue on the streets, and kids run helter-skelter between the legs of the adults playing their own little games.

Sian rather doubts that any signs of Aia will be present with all these people about, so he starts to question a few of the local merchants that he knows.

None of the merchants that Sian would normally expect to have dealt with Aia's requests for clothes have any information, regretfully informing him that they have not seen her for some time.

Sian hrms, and starts to move in wider and wider circles, questioning more of the tradesmen, eventually finding one who saw someone fitting Aia's description (Whitewall's catgirl population being remarkably small) earlier that day. Somewhat surprisingly, this tailor specialises in clothes for the children of Whitewall's middle-class, those rich enough to not have to make them themselves.

Sian questions the man further. "And she came to you for clothes?"

"Yes, my Lord. She was here this morning, looking for something for a baby."

"A baby?" He considers this for a moment, happening upon one fairly worrying possibility, and immediately discarding it. "Do you know which way she went? And did she say she'd be back at all?"

"I'm afraid not, Sir. She did say that she would probably be back in a couple of months, though. I think she went further along Gasper Street, although I'm the only baby-tailor around here."

"Hrm. Thanks for your help." He heads off down the street, looking for clues. Several others along Gasper Street remember having seen Aia, although she did not enter their shops (Aia being fairly distinctive in appearance). Unfortunately, this end of Gasper Street is in one of the less savoury quarters of the city - the streets are less well-kept than elsewhere, and many of the people are less than clean.

Sian feels steadily more concerned as he heads deeper into the area, looking around for signs of a cattish presence.

The atmosphere gets steadily more oppresive as the streets get narrower, the four-floor tenement buildings of Whitewall crowding out the sunlight and leaving everything bathed in deep shadow, what little light there is stolen from houses with broken shutters.

Sian is now rather stony-looking, determined to find the catgirl. He marches steadily along the narrow streets.

A young, and somewhat ill-looking girl steps out from a street alcove, "Care to spend some time with a young girl, my Lord?"

Sian pauses in his footsteps. "I'm not going to sleep with you, no. But if you give me some information I'll make it worth your while."

"Information?" the girl looks a little scared at Sian's slightly glowing, watery appearance.

"Yes. Have there been any newcomers to the district this morning? Distinctive ones?"

"There were a couple, my Lord. One was a girl, although she looked strange, she had a tail!" The girl smiles at the thought, and then shudders, "The second one... brr... I didn't like him at all - although I could barely see him. All black he was, almost like a moving shadow."

Sian frowns deeply, pinning the girl with his gaze. "Which way did they go?"

"That way," she points down the street.

"Thank you." He starts to pull a coin out of his pouch, when he pauses. "Do you know your way around the city?"

"Yes, Sir, a little."

Sian tells her his address. "Go to the second apartment on the third floor, and wait outside. I'll be there later, okay?"

Her eyes wide the girl nods, "Yes, my Lord."

Sian pats her awkwardly on the head as an afterthought, then heads off in the direction she pointed. This part of Whitewall is unpleasant, rarely visited by the guards and even less often by the street cleaners. Hacking coughs spill out from a door filled with opium- and hashish-laced smoke, and Sian finds himself in a small square, surrounded on all sides by ancient, dirty buildings.

Sian takes in the whole scene carefully, looking (most probably in vain) for clues.

"She's not here."

Sian turns quickly at the voice.

An old man, broken by years of labour in Whitewall's mines, steps out of a doorway, "I was told to tell you that she's not here," and then he coughs hard, deep wracking coughs that make him spit blood.

"By who?"

"Some sorcerer, I think..." a heavy cough, "I didn't see him, he was all wrapped up in black. Red eyes, though..." he starts hacking again.

Sian puts a hand on the man's shoulder to steady him. "What else did he say?"

"Not much. He said that someone looking like you would be here, and to tell you that she's not here." He leans against the wall, and wipes his mouth clean of the blood, "I didn't like the look of him, but I'm just an old man... Do you know who he's talking about?"

"Sadly, yes." He looks momentarily angry, but shakes it off as the man coughs again. "Why don't you get treatment for that cough?"

"For this? Even if I could afford it, I couldn't get to see one of the alchemists who could make me a treatment, they don't like us rough folk."

Sian makes another mental note, and tells the man the same thing he told the girl. "And I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, my Lord. It's terrible what the mines do to a man, you know - I'm going to be forty soon, and I don't expect to see fifty."

"Mine work is always hard, yes, but this should help you survive a little longer."

"Thank you again," and the old man hobbles painfully off, leaving Sian alone in the square, a small scrap of blue sky visible overhead, the buildings that surround it having grown inwards as they extended upwards.

Sian stands staring up at it for a long while, before starting along the path to the easily-visible palace. The palace of the Syndics is, as always, tall, cold and heavily guarded. So heavily guarded, in fact, that Sian is denied entry.

Sian frowns down at the guards. "Why can't I enter, exactly?"

"Orders from the Syndics. No-one is to enter or leave the palace today. No exceptions."

"Then I'll be back tomorrow." He heads back, towards his house, pondering.

The apartment is cold and empty in the mid-afternoon, with very little to show that Aia has ever actually lived here, and only the hastily-written note for company.

Sian looks at it again, inhales the faint smell her kiss left behind, then puts it down again, just staring at the floor.

From a shadowed corner of the room a distressingly familiar rasping voice issues, "You miss her, yes?"

Sian looks up sharply, immediately reaching for a nearby javelin and advancing on the figure. "Tell me where she is."

"She is safe and well," the black figure unfurls out of the shadows, its baleful red eyes locked on Sian, "It is not my master's intent to harm the little god-blood, oh no - not at all."

"Give her back to me." He hefts the weapon in a no-nonsense manner.

"That may well happen, but not right now. My master went to some effort to obtain the sweet little feline and he is unlikely to return her at your say-so."

"Then what does he want?" Sian knows what �he� wants, and that's to gouge out the thing's eyes with the business end of a javelin.

"I am not in a position to say, I am here in the guise of a negotiator. I come to make you an offer, on behalf of my master." The creature bows, half-mockingly, its teeth a dazzling white against the absolute blackness of its body.

"Then talk, instead of beating around the bush."

"My master, whose name I cannot speak, gives you his word that the delightful god-blood will remain safe and unharmed as his guest for an unspecificed length of time, in return for which you will not look for her or, in any way, attempt to thwart my master's plans. Should you decide not to accept this, most generous, offer, then things are less certain."

"If those terms hadn't been offered, then any deal would be thrown out without consideration. What else do I have to do?"

"Nothing. You have to do nothing - that is the entirety of the offer."

"Surely you're joking." He frowns.

"My master has what he wants, he merely wants your assurance that you will not try and... retrieve it."

"And that's it? I'm never going to see her again, but she, of course, will be perfectly fine?" His tone is mixed anger and sarcasm, with a hint of worry.

"That is it. Do you have an answer?"

Sian clenches his weapon tightly. "I guess I have no choice but to agree. Hurt her, though..." His expression makes the end result of this clear.

"The girl will be quite safe, you have my master's word on that." The thing stands up and bows again, just as mockingly, "I will now take my leave of you to deliver your reply," and it hops up onto the windowledge, "Both the girl and her child will be quite safe..." The creature grins broadly and hops down.

Sian moves over to it, sorely tempted to fling a javelin... but it's gone. He grits his teeth, then punches the wall with a great deal of effort, leaving a rather large dent.