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Fantasy Ain't No Rest for the Wicked Pt. 2

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Blair didn’t look at Abel as he wandered off. Remembering had nothing to do with her current fear. Whether she had her abilities before the amnesia struck or not, she was aware of the consequences going forward. For a moment, she thought about being honest. The Horsemen already learned about her ability to see spirits, so anything more probably wouldn’t be too shocking for them. They might even find a use for her other powers.

The problem came with how much she could trust them. While they had been traveling together for awhile with no active hostility, as far as she was concerned she was still riding with the title of “Hostage.” They had yet to run into any Virtues, so she didn’t know how the scenario would play out when they did. Everyone had been tolerant of her so far, if not outright kind, but how long would that last? Would it be worth it to keep a trick under her sleeve just in case things went south? Would the secrecy be enough to ensure her survival?

She pushed the thoughts down for the time being. There would be plenty of time to think when they were back on the road. Blair finished packing her things and went out of the cathedral to grab Dolly. Unlike Stepper, her mare wasn’t so bonded to her that she’d come running with just a whistle. The poor horse was skittish from the ghoul ordeal, too. It was a miracle that she hadn’t run off during the battle. Fortunately, all it took was a few snacks and some soothing words to calm her down again. Dolly was still anxious, but she was tolerant enough for Blair to throw on her saddle.

The thought of bolting while everyone was distracted crossed her mind, but only for a moment. If Connor was still set on keeping her around, she wouldn’t get far even with a head start. Blair remembered how fast Stepper moved from their first encounter.

Wanting to be a little helpful, Blair then went after Sisceal’s horse. His steed seemed to be just as mythical as him, if not more, so she wasn‘t exactly sure how to interact with it. But damn, she was going to try. Blair had one more apple in her bag, which she offered to his horse with careful movements. “I know I’m not your rider, but he’s a little worse for wear at the moment. I’d like to help him a little, if I can. Would you be kind enough to let me saddle you for today?“

Would simply talking to a fae horse work? Fuck if she knew, but it was worth a shot.
 
The beast eyed her carefully. He was a gigantic steed of glossy pitch black with an unkempt curly mane. It was clear this thing barely let it's own thief of rider take care of it properly beyond basic necessities. It was a miracle alone that he let Blair approach him. Listening to her words intently. Perhaps he was afraid of what her touch could do after being so close to the ghoul incident? Though nothing special intelligence wise for a horse he still sensed full well what she could do and was not trained to go against this one. He was only trained to be antagonistic against the white haired man with the weird eyes.

Sisceal took this chance of Stryker being still and at ease to toss his saddle up on the creature haphazardly. With an uncomfortably long struggle and a pained moan he tossed himself up onto the thing as well. Immediately having to lean against the horse's neck in agony for a while but he was up on it. The tall priest looked terribly small atop his mismatched steed and crumpled into a ball. "I am not that- Gods' damned helpless." His words hitched a moment as he battled pain. "If y'all want to move now I'll move now. Just keep me from fallin off this damned thing and we'll be fine for a while. I can rest on top a him and he'll follow that's one thing I can promise. Brute as he is he doesn't like being left to the wilds. It'll be enough until we get to the next refuge."

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"Oiy! Old man you think we can cut em off at a pass? Or can you do anythin' to get us ahead?" Thea called out to the wagon she knew was following close behind her. At this point she didn't even have to look. She knew full well with her deal and how her patron was he was always going to be close. "You know I want to get to him first. Test out some of the new toys you've been working on and the damage they can do. If they don't kill 'im now then we got work to do." Her tone was full of venom as she pressed her horse to go faster. Not a soul was going to take the sweet cold sting of iron and steel of revenge from her.
 
The moon peered down at the Horsemen and Hostage with graven judgement, a bright jewel amidst the sea of inky blackness. Abel turned, crossing his arms as his lambent eyes picked out the ruination of the abandoned Church, the gray, dust-riddled rubble littering the entrance and interior. It sent a surge of disappointment through him. An emotion he so seldom felt, but it pricked at the edges of his mind nonetheless now. He tilted his head up, yellow eyes shut tight in the hard shadows of his face, letting the cold night air within his lungs at last. The mephitic rot of Julian's ghoulish remains so potent they poisoned the very air within the holy house — Abel's own efforts surely souring matters further, but the comfort is that he is inured to his own dreaded miasma.

Abel cast a glance over his shoulder as Connor accepted his suggestion to traverse then recline in the midst of nature's stronghold. It is an outre decision, Abel allows, but one that obfuscates by virtue of expansiveness. Blair came into view and Abel followed her with his eyes as she moved, belongings draped on her back. Her legs shifted unnaturally as though the bones beneath her baleful pale skin had been pulverised. Abel imagined a faint crunching sound as she stepped, the thought irritatingly reminding him of the pain washing through his limbs and chest like a rushing, river of roaring fire. The palliative balm of his adrenaline receded entirely, leaving Abel moored in ache.

The Horseman of Plague shouldered his kitbag, he clapped once and whistled through the cloth that rested on his features. The sounds of equine hooves thumping and clacking against the raw, grassy dirt became apparent, overtaking the hissing wind, coming up over the hill. Stert, Abel's steadfast steed, approached. Bowing its head in subtle, animalistic relief, the horse stomped once proudly. Abel lifted his gloved hand, caressing the well-kept mane. Abel uttered softly to his companion, the searing yellows of his eyes dragged to Stryker's reluctance of Blair's touch. A puzzle with no certain answer; was it an innate fear of Blair or the decaying presence of the ghoul that lingered over them like a noxious pall of black smoke.

Abel's breathing rasped against his throat, he mounts his horse and twists the reins. "You've my word, Sisceal." Abel promised, voice possessed of a glacial coldness that found its home within his chords once again.

Deeper into the nocturne's dark embrace, the moon's blaring glare barely visible through the tree cover, their forms muddied by the lengthening shadows of leaved branches. Hidden from the pale disk of moonlight, the Horsemen established a camp within a cramped clearing, trees towering above their heads. As the rest prepared the site, Abel moved with his hand splayed to the ground, describing a circle around them and their horses. A deep, faintly green gas loosed from the palm of the Horseman. The gas lingered, slowly rising up as Abel then paced to the centre, raising his arms up. He brought his arms down in a swift, snapping motion, dispersing the gaseous walls far from their camp, painting the terrain around them. "There, that'll ward off the animals. It'll leave no trace of mana as well. And anyone else'll want to steer clear of the nostril-burning stench." Abel remarked, sitting down on a craggy, cold rock. "Did any of the crackers survive?"
 
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Abigail did more than just gather her stuff when she entered to church before leaving. She was not as kind as others while she might not seem it she did think she might be the most vicious against those that annoyed or wronged her. She wanted to plant a few traps and tricks that might slow people down or kill them. Abigail took some of the blackened wood from the cooking fire and used it like chalk. she drew the sign of her patron known as the yellow sign in a few spots. The yellow sign was like a sickness when you saw it , it wormed it's way into your mind and caused obsession and madness. It took time to work, but it was a good way to deal with people you couldn't go after directly. Abigail didn't just put them in the open but rather decided to hide them about to make it look like she was trying to keep something else hidden. Abigail then wove illusions over the signs hiding places to make it seem even more like she was trying to hide something and not setting a trap. she made sure these were were just convincing enough to make it look like she tried, but not enough that they would actually go undetected. Abigail also decided to weave another spell though this one would be more stubble to deal with any tracking on the group. She knew the general direction the children of Yig the venomous serpents might be congregating at. She wanted to send their hunters out after the snakes and if they killed any their father would be very much angered. The illusion was one that would cling to the senses and make whatever senses they used to track them say they needed to head in the way Abigail guessed the snakes would be forming their mating balls.

With her tricks set up Abigail got her stuff and called her horse that wasn't really a horse and followed the others. The camp that Abel made did make Abigail worry it might be showy, but his power had kept him alive so far so she didn't think it would draw to much unwanted attention. Still places with no animals were more suspect than those with them. Abigail could weave an illusion to help keep people lost, but she had already set up to much at the church and if anyone had followed them they would be expecting an illusion. Right now it was better to let them waste time looking for traps that didn't exit. " Hopefully the virtures are more set on getting us than they are caution i could use a bit of sleep" Abigail said not mentioning the tricks she had left for their pursuers, though the others minus Blair would likely know she would leave such things.
 
Connor could not be more relieved at Abigail's and Abel's work. He could not be certain it would work, and if it did it might not work perfectly, but it was better than nothing. And when Abel requested some crackers, Connor was more than happy to check through his saddle bag. He found some hardtack, though thoroughly crushed by now, and threw them to the Horseman of Plague. "Hope you don't mind it being a little crushed," he said jokingly as the bag arched through the air. "I'm looking forward to some sleep to, Abigail. Might not be comfortable, but it'll do."
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"I'm not that old," called out a gruff voice from the wagon as it impossibly pulled closer, revealing the mule to be seemingly made of metal and clicking rhythmically with it's every move. The driver of this wagon was also shown to be a man of somewhat diminutive stature, though making up for it in bulk and long salt and pepper hair and beard neatly tied in place. And though he was annoyed with Thea's tone of voice, he still pulled out his compass. The needle was spinning wildly, but lingered in a general direction.

"Hm, they're trying to hide. My compass isn't calibrated to get through whatever they've put up but it'll set us on the right path. I think."
 
"You know best, I suppose." When Sisceal came grumbling about his usefulness, Blair just stepped back with a shrug. She tried. And if her efforts made things even a little bit easier, or at least not more difficult, that was good enough. She walked back over to her own horse and hopped onto the saddle, then followed the rest to their next destination.

Blair wished that she could say that the trip was blissfully uneventful, but her own brain sabotaged that. After the ghoul incident, her paranoia shot up. She could now look around a little more freely without risking exposure. She kept a closer eye on their surroundings this time around, paying special attention to any glowing movement that signified a soul was nearby. Just about all that she could see were only natural inhabitants of the desert. Nothing ghoulish, nothing particularly ghost-like or threatening. Most importantly, nothing that made her skin crawl just by being in the general vicinity. Even so, she couldn't get herself to truly relax until they actually made camp.

It didn't help that her hip kept clicking every time Dolly took a step. For a while, she could ignore it, as it didn't actually cause her any pain. However, the constant clicking and grating against bone was getting awfully annoying. The fact that nothing was actually hurting prevented her from linking the sensation to any serious injury. The fall from earlier probably just knocked her leg a weird way, and it would sort itself out when she could get proper rest and not move for a few hours. Until then, she had to tolerate the irritating clicking.

When they finally settled down the second time, Blair was quick to hop off of Dolly. Unlike in the chapel, this time she chose her spot based off of what was most convenient, instead of the most protected. There was no starving revenant around this time to hunt her. All the same, as soon as the camp was properly set up, she sat herself down in her own little area and stayed put.
 
Sisceal was slumped over most the ride to their next resting spot. Wrapping the reins around his wrists to keep more firmly in place as he laid himself out over the horse. Thankfully it was an unnaturally gigantic beast, highlighting further he was definitely not the original owner of him. The damn beast acted like it as well. If not for the eye of his companions and the creature's fear of being alone in the wilds, he'd be flat on his back in a heartbeat.
The moments he was passed out the various cuts and bruises started disappearing from his flesh until it was as though they never existed. His skin weaving and sealing itself back together right before any curious eyes. Broken bones made sickening pops and snaps as they worked themselves back into place.

Fortunately by the time they were starting to settle in he wasn't entirely patched up but well enough to look youthful once more and walk around with only a slight old man gait. "Crushed tack all we really got? No jerky at least or at least another can of beans?" He rubbed his gut disappointed for their loss back at the cathedral. Making himself a cozy little spot to curl up in near the fire. "Bit of seeds and I can grow us something fresh. I've got the juice left for it."

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"A direction is all I need." Her white hair flared up into blue and green flames as her horse blazed on even faster. Keeping an eye on which way her dwarven patron was aiming them. She was itchin for this moment. It was so close she could almost taste it.
Soon enough you could say she could almost smell it. A foul odor emanated from a grove they were about to go through. Something she'd never encountered before. The young woman slowed her pace greatly and stared out into it. It felt off. "What's that contraption of yours say about this place? I still don't have the hang of sensing other types of weird magics or forces. Something doesn't feel right about it though. Makes me think we're close"
 
In the darkened grove, hidden from the moon's blaring glare, the harsh, cold wind willowed through the camp. For a moment, Abel imagined a sensation playing to him, carried by the gentle hands of the chilling gust. The biting wind passed again. Abel looked about, blinking the harsh, yellow orbs. Amber embers and the crackling ripple of the campfire caught his attention, before the wind died down to a soft sigh as if it imparted intimations of a danger perilously close to their reprieve. The Horseman of Plague clenched his hand, shifting slightly on his rock. He said nothing, not now, not until he was certain.

Then he heard a crumpling sound. Though he had not been glancing in Connor's direction, with reflexes that would've stunned most duelists, Abel's hand had shot out and caught the bag of hardtack. The crumbled feeling beneath his fingers had not been promising. Snapping open the receptacle, Abel's expression impassive in the darkness, but his gleaming, yellow eyes furrowed at the sight. He doffed one glove, reaching within, he cupped a handful of the pulverised crackers then lifting the hand through the obscura-haunting his face.

Abel sighed and shook his hand of the crumbs. "I know." Abel replied, voice firm, even, cold. Sisceal's outre abilities have proven indispensable in the past, but now, no value can be gleaned without the proper furnishings for them flourish. "I'll hunt. Get us something to eat. Find some water too, make it potable. It'll hold us over until we can restock properly, whether by town or nature can be decided later."

He shifted again, rolling his shoulders and inspecting the wrapped wound on his arm. "By the way, hone your guard. I suspect we're not at the end of our troubles for this evening. And the Night is young." Abel cautioned.
 

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