Fantasy Cinders and Ashes (Completed)

[ArcticFox]

The library is in a corner of the council chamber. Today there was no meeting, and you encounter very few people around.

However, once you enter, you quickly realize that you are not alone.

The librarian, a sticklike man of refined dress and appearance, whom you recognize from the council meeting, is there. He is seated at the desk, apparently deep in writing something - yet, when you ease closer to the door, the scuff of your footsteps makes him raise his head and look around, an expression of acute suspicion upon his face.

- Create a distraction and sneak in.
- Invent a suitable excuse to see the records.
- Feel for weaknesses in the building's magical defense and slip through the wall.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian was feeling fairly confident as she entered the library, but she’d already hit a snag. These uptight fellows were always an issue— what was a library there for, if not for people to use it? More importantly, she hated to imagine what might happen if she was caught sneaking in. She could do this. All she needed was a good excuse just to be inside, and as long as he didn’t breathe down her neck the whole time she could look around all she liked.

“Excuse me,” she said at an appropriately low volume, approaching the desk as if it was a natural thing to do. “I hope it isn’t a bother to ask, but after attending the last council meeting I was hoping to become more informed on the matters discussed. Particularly the issue of the wood tax— I apologize, I don’t mean to ramble. Would it be possible for me to review some minutes of previous meetings...?”

 

[ArcticFox]

The librarian allows you to enter, all obsequious smiles and bows, as he seems to assume you are a patron. He hovers for a while, then leaves you alone. Once alone, you breathe a sigh of relief. You have successfully made it past the library's gatekeeper and are free to look without being apprehended. And what better way to start then with founding the charter of Cinders? Surely there should be something about demon contracts right at the founding of the city.

You examine the gilded volumes and scrolls until you see the raised display cabinet that houses the charter. There is just one problem. The display case is empty. The charter is gone.

Who could have taken it? Who else in this town is interested about this matter? Someone else must be on the same trail as you. Or else, someone has been in on it all along. The burglary must have been recent - it seems it was not common knowledge, if Bruno could not tell you of it. You must find out where it is, or who took it, before it is too late.

Or… Perhaps it is not too grievous a loss. After all, Cinders' Society, with its finicky rules and casual cruelty, is not quite the Arcadia it is painted as.

Someone - the librarian, no doubt - coughs somewhere in the back of the room, and tromps towards the front bookshelves, yanking you back to the present moment. You had thought that there was no one else present, but, evidently, they were filing something in the back. Right now, you are faced with a conundrum, whatever your personal feelings regarding the town. The charter is missing, and someone is either in step with you, or has an agenda of their own.

- Eavesdrop on the librarian for information.
- Research.
- Ask around.

 

[Ezri]

This was a problem. The charter being missing was an issue in its own right— important documents like that didn’t just disappear, and it would cause quite the justified uproar if the general public were to find out. But more personally, this was an issue for Vivian. What other reason could there be to look for the charter, other than to find the sort of information she had come here to find? And why take it? Was there something they didn’t want anyone else to see?

These were all relevant concerns, but she couldn’t reasonably determine why the charter was gone unless she found it or discovered who took it. She couldn’t just ask about it without opening herself up to questions about why she had even noticed. She decided, for now, to subtly keep an eye on the librarian and see if he had any clues to share.

 

[ArcticFox]

The warden has just entered - the librarian rushes to greet them. The two seem to be speaking about this very issue. You ease closer, placing your feet carefully to avoid making any noise. However, you neglect to pay enough attention to your other limbs. You hit something with your elbow - there is a crash as it falls to the ground.

Evidently, there was a recent break-in. The charter had to be moved to a more secure location, namely, the mayor's private vault.

The warden and librarian turn and stare at you. "What was it you wanted?" The librarian asks stiffly. "This is a private conversation."

The librarian glares at you. "The charter is not here - it was moved, following the break-in. The mayor has custody of it."

You make your escape. The mayor's vault is not in the mayor's residence, contrary to its name, but in the town hall. This is good news for you, as it affords you easier entry. However, your good luck runs out there. For the sound of voices soon tells you that you are not alone. A group of people rounds the corner, before you can hide or even begin to make some kind of plan.

It is a moment before you recognize them: the philosophers.

A cool voice cuts through the commotion. "Well, well, what have we here? It appears we've interrupted you," says Wren Grufford. He appears a second later, looking nonchalant, again in all-black coat and cravat.

Several of the philosophers who were at your party nudge each other and smile. "Ah, Miss Price!" one says. "What a pleasant surprise."

Wren smiles, too, reflexively. "Hosting a good party does not exonerate anyone," he says, but he sounds bemused rather than peevish. "I am afraid we cannot accept your presence here without some explanation." This seems logical, and it is clear it is not meant unkindly.

- Rationally explain everything to them.
- Make up another excuse for your presence.
- Convince them your task is perfectly innocent.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified at the sight of Wren and the philosophers, but there were worse people she could have run into. After a moment it became clear that they weren’t even particularly upset; not yet, anyway. She just needed an acceptable explanation and they would probably forget all about it. Her immediate impulse was to think of a story, an excuse, but...

But if anyone could accept her unorthodox pursuit of knowledge it would be Wren. Surely if she came clean, he would understand on some level. Wouldn’t he?

“You’ve caught me. The truth is,” she began with a smile of her own, a little sheepish but not defeated. While her actions might not be respectable, she wasn’t ashamed of them. “While doing some research at the council library, I learned about a rather serious break-in regarding the town charter, and, well... perhaps I got a little carried away playing detective. I was trying to find some insight as to why, which led me here— I didn’t mean any harm, of course.”

 

[ArcticFox]

"We found this," says a severe philosopher reluctantly, uncurling one of her hands. There, lying in her palm, is a flashy garnet-encrusted ring. "It was in the library." At the break-in site, her eyes say.

The philosophers consider your response for a moment, individually - there are a few furtive glances. Finally, a bespectacled philosopher speaks up.

"I, for one, am inclined to accept your reasoning," he says, looking around. "I do not know if you all agree."

"It seems sound," Wren concedes, with a smile.

The philosophers' knowledge and experience of the town and its secrets could make them valuable allies, and make your own work easier in uncovering this problem. The philosophers, evidently, know something of the break-in and the plot.

However, such a crowd will make it difficult to maintain secrecy.

- Charm them into working together.
- Logically explain the benefits of working together.
- Politely seek to work separately.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian squinted quizzically at the ring-- it wasn't something she recognized, but it was an undeniably good clue. Even if they couldn't find its owner, it gave them some information about the sort of person who committed the theft. But didn't that mean the philosophers really were investigating it, too? Perhaps that a factor in them accepting her explanation so readily, but regardless she was glad to have retained their trust.

"Thank you for hearing me out." Vivian said, the tension leaving her shoulders. While it might be more difficult to be discrete about certain things while working in a group, it would be much easier and less conspicuous to actually find the culprit if she worked in a group. As long as she was a little careful, having the aid of the philosophers would be a great benefit. "If you're looking into the matter as well, I would much prefer to join you, if you'll allow me. It's always helpful to have multiple perspectives with this sort of thing, and I'm sure we can solve it much more easily if we share our resources."

 

[ArcticFox]

Your calm presence seems to convince the philosophers into treating you as an ally - heads nod in assent. Wren's expression does not change, but, somehow, he seems pleased.

The philosophers bring you to the charter and you crowd round the others, craning your neck to get a better look. Wren beckons you over and makes room for you next to him.

"What do you think?" he asks softly - these words are meant only for you. "It is scarce two centuries old - Cinders is quite astonishingly young for its problems."

It is nice, to work beside him, it feels right somehow. The whole world seems in sharper focus. He reaches over you to turn the page, and his closeness makes your heart speed up. Wren's soft voice breaks into your thoughts, giving voice to your previous words. "It is such a small, mundane document to contain so much hardship and heartache within its pages."

The charter is dusty and unassuming - it does not look like the object of contention it currently seems to be. There is little dust on it, the handwriting is curly and old-fashioned, but, nonetheless, clearly the work of an official scribe.

In the corner underneath the agreement is a blazing mark that hurts your stomach when you look at it, that must be the mark of the daemons. Then you spot the curled unfurling mark in emerald green, on the other side. this must be the Weyrs' mark.

In the center are the signatures of the sixteen Founders, and the notary's stamp.

It was all drawn out in writing, this strange collection of functions and rules that makes up Cinders' life. All planned out at the founding, with all the hardship and sudden rises to fortune that Cinders has entailed for its Gentry.

Wren holds it aloft and narrows his eyes, then passes the document to you. The language is difficult to decipher, but you may have an idea what it means…

- Use logic and reason it out.
- Het a sense of the basic meaning.
- Guess the most outrageous meaning.
- Look at the nuances and focus on those.

 

[Ezri]

If Wren were aware of how his proximity affected her, he would probably find it amusing. As distracting a thought as that was, even with her quickened pace in mind she would be hard pressed to think of a better ally here. “Well, looks aren’t everything.” She replied quietly, with a teasing sort of smile, before refocusing her attention on the charter, wincing as her eyes caught the demons’ mark again. This was what she came to see.

If whatever she was looking for were something plainly obvious, in the basic structure of the document, then surely any one of the philosophers would have that covered. The document was in the council library for ages before now— if there was something obviously amiss, then her guardian or someone else would have discovered it long before now. If there was actually anything to find, that is.

No, there must be something else, a more specific idea or phrase. Maybe it wouldn’t stand out at first, but there must be something about this document that wasn’t immediately apparent.

 

[ArcticFox]

You examine the document's most intricate passages, but the legal jargon makes you feel seasick.

"Let me see," says Wren, at last. "How I interpreted it, at least, is that, at the Founding, this charter was drawn up as a contract, specifying the land allotted to our forebears. This land was designated by four markers - called "keystones" - which keep the magic in place, and prevent the demons from stepping onto Cinders soil. This is why they have been gathering the Fallen: they require someone of human touch to convey them into our world." His voice darkens. "But this means that if anyone has been moving the keystones, however, the entire contract is rendered void and our gracious overlords can walk wherever they choose. Our entire town is at risk."

A prickle runs up your spine, something dark red tweaks, deep behind your eyes. A thought, of sulfur and argon and hot, hot skies, rises in the hindbrain, and your mouth goes dry: somehow, Malachite's attention has been drawn.

He knows.

"That is most likely what it means," Wren says. He squints at the document. "But here, it says…" His gaze goes faraway for a moment. "And yet, there are safeguards in place - they should not have been able to circumvent the rules so easily."

Heads turn as the philosophers regard one another thoughtfully. The realization is in everyone's eyes, the demons must have been aided from within the ranks of Cinders' gentry.

As long as the keystones remain, Cinders is safe… but if not… the entire town is at risk.

- Suggest telling someone.
- Suggest preventing this.
- Suggest finding more information.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian did not like that she knew that Malachite knew, somehow; it was the same uncomfortable feeling she got when the Wood seemed to slip information into her mind as if it had always been there. But it was good to know all the same; they probably shouldn’t dawdle around here much longer, regardless.

“We may all know the reality of this,” she addressed the room, frowning a little as she considered their options. It was hard to stay completely calm while Wren’s observations sank in, admittedly, but she had to ignore her nerves in favor of trying to solve the problem.“But without proof of who could be involved— or how— we’re at a disadvantage when it comes to stopping any catastrophe that might occur. Once we determine who it is, or their method, then we should have a chance at stopping Cinders from being completely overrun.”

 

[ArcticFox]

There is a murmur at this - some of the philosophers look as if they object. Wren holds up a calming hand. "We cannot do anything, first of all, we must ascertain where the keystones are. We do not know that they are real," he points out. "And if they are still there… if not…"

This proposes new worries indeed. But those are not for this evening. The hour grows late - one by one, the philosophers disperse.

Wren hangs back with you.

"You are very quiet," he says. "I have not seen you of late."

- Answer.

 

[Ezri]

Maybe she had been too bold— the philosophers were more open to this sort of concept than the rest of the general public probably was, of course, but they didn’t know as much about the situation as Vivian did either. For her there was no doubt as to whether the keystones were real and that they were being tampered with. But not everyone could accept this as easily as she could.

Once Wren was the only one left, however, she felt her guard slipping. “Am I?” she asked, and then continued anyway. If it was Wren she was talking to, perhaps she could be more clear about what her problems actually were. “I’ve had a lot on my plate lately. Truthfully, I’ve gotten involved with a... certain power that I very much should not have, I think, but I just can’t leave well enough alone. I can’t accept this town being the way that it is, so i just keep digging.”

She sighed, giving him a wry smile. “I would worry that you’d think I’m mad for doing what I’m doing, but you’re a little mad yourself.”

 

[ArcticFox]

Wren blushes slightly at your words, but then quickly smiles.

"A strange presentiment grips me," he says, a sigh in his voice. "I cannot help but think that this business will not end well." He turns to you, voice low, as if in pain. "There is some strange coldness in my bones, and the wind cuts too deep. I would not like to think of one such as you, in such a complicated situation, walking home alone on such a night. Shall we walk together?"

- Accept.
- Refuse.

 

[Ezri]

Only Wren would take that as a compliment, but that was how it was intended. Whether he had sensed Malachite’s looming presence or whether he was just being dramatic was up for debate, but Vivian supposed either was an acceptable option. She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I have a similar ominous feeling. So I should accept, if you wouldn’t mind.”

 

[ArcticFox]

You walk back through the darkened streets together - Wren's presence beside you makes a small circle of warmth, pushes the shadows farther away.

The information about the demons' plot is troubling but, at the same time, it is another piece of the map. Now, with a better picture, you may start doing something about it. Or not. The thought occurs to you that, perhaps, there is not only one road at this juncture. Nor is there only one point of view. You have experienced the Fae's bargain-based, rudimentary wildness, and the humans' genteel way of organizing life, but what of the demons' view into the matter?

Could they have been a wronged party in all of this as well?

- You support humans.
- You support demons.
- You support the Fae.

 

[Ezri]

Even though walking home with her was ultimately not the grandest of gestures, it was comforting to have Wren to rely on. She might never meet someone like him again.

But, thinking about it, the demons and the fae had existed on the fringes of Cinders since its inception. The creation of thralls was something unforgivable, as far as she was concerned— no matter how the demons tried to spin their perception of it, no sane person would ever choose to be reduced to the lives of the Fallen. They couldn’t go on living this way, it wasn’t right to. Something had to change.

Yet she couldn’t help but be curious about Malachite’s intentions, and the demons at large. They must have a larger goal, some plan they were striving for. The Fae, terrifying as they were, seemed only to desire the respect they thought they deserved, and acted accordingly when those lines were crossed. No, the demons were another beast entirely— maybe one that could be reasoned with. Or maybe not.

 

[ArcticFox]

You walk in companionable silence for a time. After a while, Wren eyes you with a peculiar slantwise look. His mouth curves into a melancholy smile.

"Even I, for all my experiments, did not anticipate this. I confess myself to be troubled by recent events."

You have walked all the way to the edge of your property. The breeze passes through you, and you shiver. The evening is brisk with the promise of rain.

"Well, I suppose this is goodnight," he says.

Do you invite Wren inside to continue your conversation?

- Invite him.
- Say goodnight politely.
- Say goodnight coldly.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian couldn’t imagine how anyone could have predicted what the truth of their problem was, unless they were involved in it personally. Still, she wondered what the results Wren’s experiments had actually produced, if any. She glanced back at him.

“It’s rather cold out now,” she noted; it might not be entirely proper to offer, but she wouldn’t feel right simply turning him away now. It wasn’t as though she was eager to be rid of him. “If you’d like, you’re welcome to stay for a drink to warm you up.”

 

[ArcticFox]

He makes a polite, noncommittal noise, but there is something else in his eyes that speaks differently. There is a special closeness between you, there, in the darkness of the lawn, with the cool grass beneath your feet, at the verge of entering your home.

He exhales, as if in relief, and smiles. "I thank you, then, I shall," he says simply. He follows you inside, to warmth and light.

Bruno still keeps the fine brandy right where it always used to be, in the top of the carved cabinet in the drawing room. You remember your guardian taking it out for special guests and, once, offered it to you when you returned to visit from school, once you had reached an age to appreciate such a thing.

It is a strange thought that, if you succeed in selling the property, all this - the furniture, these little details that make up the house of memory, will have to be packed away and dispersed or moved or sold, too. They are just things, but they are strong in your memory.

Do you wish to confide in Wren?

- Tell Wren about your home.
- Tell Wren about your guardian.
- Talk about something else.
- Don't talk about anything.

 

[Ezri]

Sometimes, with the influx of demons overshadowing it all, it was easy to forget that this was still the Cinders of her childhood. Vivian had lots of fond memories of this place, of listening to her guardian and chasing Rowan through the lawns of manors they had no business being in anyway. Talking to Alcindor at the party, too, had made her dwell on those nostalgic things more often than she had before.

She told Wren casually about the brandy, at first simply as a talking point while she poured it, but then further details about her guardian seemed to just slip out. Mostly little things she remembered about them and their hobbies, and anecdotes from when she was young; not having attended the funeral, it was nice to talk about these things with someone, even though Wren had probably never met them.

 

[ArcticFox]

There is something more burning here than just wood, in the firelight - your eyes meet - his are wondering. You are both baking in front of the fire, it is time for him to depart, or for you to dare.

There is a question in his eyes, and a promise.

Do you make the first move?

- Kiss Wren.
- Invite him to spend the night.
- Say goodbye.

 

[Ezri]

It had gotten late, and as they chatted the atmosphere became somehow more intimate than it had been before. Vivian was reasonably sure she wasn’t imagining that look in his eye, but for all his eccentricities he did seem to pride himself on being a gentleman. He might not move unless she did, or at least not without some encouragement. And she could use a little more comfort, all things considered...

“Wren,” she said, leaning closer and lowering her voice. Maybe she could coax a move out of him— she held his gaze as something of a dare. “I’m sure it’s even colder out there now. You’re welcome to stay for the night, if you’d prefer..”

 

[ArcticFox]

He blushes, but nods. "I would like that very much," he says.

Then, as if remembering, he leans down toward you, one hand placed on your own on the sofa. Stroking your hand gently and taking it in his, he places a soft kiss on the top of your hand, then trails kissed up your arm, until finally he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours.

"Perhaps this is not the smartest idea, but it is something I've been thinking about ever since we met," Wren says, moving away. There's warmth in his eyes as he smiles, "Let's move upstairs then?"

- Accept.
- Refuse.