Fantasy The MPC Rushes Story, Cont.

[Genevieve Moulin]

Just when you think nothing else can shock you...


Genevieve had noticed Lisbeth's occasionally shifting appearance. She'd caught a glimpse of aqua hair and had felt the unnatural chill of her skin as they tried to escape the crumbling tunnel in London. Of course there was a story. There always was. But just like with Blott and her talking crow, Genevieve hadn't asked, assuming the details would eventually come to light. Well, they certainly had.


"Er, Frostine?" she said tentatively. "Lisbeth is okay in there, right?"

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Frostine smiled at Genevieve and Blott.


"Yes, I'm a good guy, and, yes, Lisbeth is fine. She's just... sleeping, I guess is the best way to put it. She was getting overwhelmed with everything that's going on with that heart she has. She was already pretty freaked out about it, and what we just found out from William was a little too much for her."


Her smile was tinged with a little sadness.


"A sensitive soul is my mistress," she mused with a chuckle, "though she puts up a good front sometimes."

 

[UCBooties]

William frowned and glanced between Lisbeth, well Frostine, and Fritz. Indecision was plain on his face as he wrestled with some internal quandary. Then his expression grew determined.


"As to the Lance, I will be happy to discuss that in what manner I can in a moment. But first..."


He turned to Frostine. "Ms. Frostine was it?" Frostine nodded. "There is something I would like your help with before your Master returns."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Frostine cocked her head, well Lisbeth's head, to one side and regarded William curiously. With his round glasses he reminded her a bit of her other master, actually.


"Yes? What is it?"

 

[UCBooties]

William stepped around the desk and drew nearer to Frostine. Quite suddenly there was a knife in his hand, not a particularly imposing knife, but startling for the rapidity with which it appeared. Frostine tensed at the appearance of the weapon but before she could wonder if he truly meant her harm he flipped the knife easily in his hand and offered her the handle.


"If you would, please cut yourself. A prick of the finger or cut on the palm should suffice. So long as it draws blood."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

She blinked in surprise at William's request. Cut herself? Why? Well, she supposed that her and Lisbeth's... situation was unique. Perhaps there was some information he could glean from this little experiment that could help them somehow. She swallowed and nodded, taking the small knife from William's outstretched hand. She held up her other hand. It was fleshy and pink, the veins tracing delicate branches beneath the skin. It was just like when Jack had cast a glamour over her to make her appear human, except these hands were real.


"Sorry, Lisbeth," she muttered, and she drew the blade quickly across her palm.

 

[UCBooties]

Frostine cut her palm and William leaned in close with an intense expression as he watched blood begin to well in the wound.


At first there was only red blood, bright against Lisbeth's pale skin, but then... Ink began to swirl in the blood, mixing red and black before their eyes. William gave a hiss through his teeth as he saw it. Something had been confirmed... but what?


He kept it to himself for now. He gave Frostine a curt nod and said, "Thank you for your assistance." He pulled a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over to Frostine so that she could bind the wound. He plucked the knife from her fingers and it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.


He then turned his attention to Fritz. "You asked if you could see the Lance du Saint-Sang or Lance of Longinus. It is true that such an artifact exists within Black Iron House, but it cannot help you."


He walked back around the desk and sat down wearily, shooting another worried glance at Frostine. "Four Lances of Longinus currently reside within Black Iron House, but none of them are the Lance you need for the purposes of defeating Thanatos. For the task you have set for yourselves, you will need the right Lance, and to find it you will need the help of ones whose knowledge of worlds is more comprehensive than my own."


William glanced at Genevieve, Blott, and Frostine, "But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. You need to decide what you are truly looking for first. Isn't that right, ladies?"

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott smiled thinly. "I'm fine with whatever they want." she waved her hand to indicate the room's occupants, "Unless you're asking for deep personal goals, in which we differ, I'm sure." She leaned forward, "But first, enlighten us, what's wrong with a little inky blood?"

 

[UCBooties]

William looked very tired for a moment. He gave Blott another of his unconvincing smiles, "There is nothing wrong with it per se. I had a theory about Frostine and I needed to test it while Lisbeth was not, ah, present."


They continued to look at him expectantly so after a moment he elaborated. "Black Iron House shows the truth of things, one way or another. Lisbeth is a human, so her blood is, well, blood, the same as any other's. Frostine is a being created by a Writer. Normally any such creature's blood would be red as well, but in Black Iron House the truth lies a little closer to the surface. The red blood we saw was Lisbeth's and the black ink was Frostine's. I believe that this is caused by Black Iron House reacting to the presence of a Writer. Once Lisbeth is herself again I will need to conduct a further experiment."


At this he recieved a round of skeptical looks. "Don't worry, I won't need to cut any of you. No more of that, you have my word."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Frostine looked at Lisbeth's bandaged hand.


"Huh," she said, "I've never had my own blood before."


She turned her gaze to William and offered him a wry smile.


"You may need to wait until morning for her return," she told him, "Unless you'd like to try to awaken Sleeping Beauty with a kiss?"

 

[ArtBlott]

"Good. My blood would eat you." Blott leaned back, her bird's delivery deadpan. She'd let them wonder if she was kidding or not. She wasn't sure she liked how William managed to just pull things out of nowhere. Or perhaps the house was providing the objects, caring for it's keeper.


The crow hopped to the window, bouncing along the sill as it looked outside. Blotts words echoed strangely against the glass. "You keep asking what we want. We seem to want the right Lance. Since that doesn't seem to be forthcoming, what can we get from you to help us on our way? Or are you really trying to ask something else?" Blott was not a fan for cryptic runarounds, she had had far enough of that elsewhere in life, and this man, or maybe this house, was starting to wear her down.

 

[slee77]

"Maybe what he is saying is we need to ask the right questions…and we don't seem to be doing that.. so let's give that a try.William. Who do we need to contact in order to find the right Lance?"

 

[UCBooties]

William removed his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't mean to be difficult or cryptic. I apologize if I have seemed so. When travelling between worlds and interacting with people who do not, too much specificity can be dangerous. It is a hard habit to break. Please, I beg your pardon."


"Let me speak plainly. We need to seek the guidance of a Librarian. I myself have never met one, only heard tell of their ways and..." here his voice grew softer, "once, only once, I saw the aftermath of their terrible work..."


William shook himself and replaced his spectacles. As he spoke his manner grew more business-like again, "As you might surmise, finding a Librarian is difficult. I may, may, be able to guide you to one, but we will need your power Traveler," here he looked to Fitz, "and yours," here he looked to Genvieve. "Perhaps the Artist and Writer may be needed as well, for the most difficult and terrible truth is this,"


He paused as though he feared to speak whatever he was about to reveal.


"Wherever there is a Librarian, Black Iron House can never go."

 

[ArtBlott]

Oh man, why does everyone who Is A Thing end up destroying things? Blott was unaware that Librarians were Things. Then again, she had met an Engineer once, so other occupations were certainly possible.


"I...suppose I apologize for being rude. This house weighs ill on my mind," and body, geez! She rolled her left shoulder. The more she traveled, the more it hurt. Probably not a good sign. Eventually, eventually, she'd have to speak up about it, but there were so many more pressing problems. Like not-Lisbeth. Frostine. The lance. And now, Librarians.


She re-focused on the last bit of her hosts' statement, turning it over. Librarians...do what? Catalog things? Keep track of...books and DVDs and old rolls of film and newspapers, so...was the Black Iron House not catalog-able? Not real? Not...something. Or very something. The unknown 'something' she had noticed earlier poked harder at her brain. She looked to her crow. It looked back unhelpfully. She curled in on herself, pulling a wad of paper out of her pack, the pages she had stashed back in Werewolf World. Well, it wasn't a world anymore. She oozed enough goo out in that alley and tunnel, it would be consumed soon. With a heavy sigh, she pulled out her pen. It was almost out of ink, but there should be enough to doodle out something fun. Maybe a new shirt.

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

So our salvation depends on a power I can't control, one I may not even have any more. Of course it does...


Genevieve felt expectant eyes upon her, as though she had any idea what William meant by all of this. She'd been kidding when she said they needed a Librarian, and that thought worried her, too. Lisbeth could bring things into being by writing them. Blott could do it by drawing them. Surely she couldn't create things simply by speaking them. That would be absurd.


"Whatever powers I have will always be at the disposal of my friends," she said slowly. "Unfortunately I don't know how to control my ability to travel through time. But Fitz said he can teach me." She looked to him with a mixture of hope and fear in her eyes.


She wasn't yet ready to tell them she might not be able to do it at all.

 

[slee77]

"I can...I also said it would take time.These Librarians they what? Watch things? Us?Are they relegated to one universe or can they cross over? Something tells me they are much bigger than that. How close have you come into contact with them!? Do they hold other answers and do they seek justice? That is? Are they good?" So many questions whirled through Altamontes head. All this time jumping through time and time streams and not once had he ever heard of these Librarians. Was that good or bad?! Damn it to hell with these stupid hidden figures. Always lurking. Always taking people he loves from him. Not this time. Not any more. He was not gonna waste his shot.

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

Genevieve placed a hand on Fitz's sleeve to slow him down.


"If it's going to take time, the questions will have to wait. Teach me. What do I need to do?"

 

[Arkadious]

As Genevieve implored to Fitz to teach her what she needed to know and Blott watched Lisbeth/Frostine, her Crow looked back out the window to watch the happenings on Mayberry. Children laughing and skipping, no one seeming to take note of the Black Iton House, as if it had always been. Across the street, under the eaves of one of the neat and prime little house, a figure stood, partially obscured by shadow. Even though his face was hidden in shadow, bright embers glowed where his eyes should be...

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

There was an odd sensation in Lisbeth's chest, but maybe that was just what having a heart felt like. Having never had one of her own, Frostine wasn't sure. She ran her unbandaged hand through Lisbeth's short hair (that was weird) and looked to Blott and William.


"If Fitzgerald's tutoring of Genevieve will take time, then perhaps we ought to use that time for other pursuits of our own. I know that Lisbeth wants to find what happened to this Arkadious Grimoire fellow, and after what he's put her through I wouldn't mind giving him a piece of my own mind. I'm sure that she would appreciate any assistance either of you could provide, but if there is anything that myself or Lisbeth can help you with, please let me, uh, or her... um, let one of us know."


Damn it. This is so weird.

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott patted Frostine's shoulder. She was, she felt, getting good at reassuring pats, if nothing else.


"Actually, if you'll excuse me," Blott shook out her paper and caught the new, clean button up shirt that fell out, "Even the servants of hell seem to have problems with ink stains." She indicated the sleeves of her current shirt, still smeared with black. She paused by the door before she left. "No one set me on fire though, or I'll be stuck running around in my underthings."


William graciously directed her a well appointed bathroom tucked under the stairs to change. She slipped in, shut the door, and locked it out of habit. Off with the vest, off with the old shirt, on with the new. She buttoned it up quickly, and decided to chance a quick look in the mirror to make sure all was in order-but a mirror wasn't there. Just a blank spot on the wall above the sink. Blott narrowed her eyes. What if...


Leaving her vest in the bathroom, she flung open the door and trotted into the kitchen. The kitchen was sparse, all clean lines and angles. She checked the stove. Electric, not gas. She looked at the fridge. It was matte black, like the walls. The inside...was empty, for the part. A few bottles of water. Nothing more. To the sink then.


She waved her hand above the faucet. Both the basin and the faucet was polished to a shine, but as she brought her hand close, there was no real change. Her hand cast all the right shadows, but there was no discoloration, no reflection of skin tone on the metal.


Blott set her mouth in a grim line. One more test then. Pen to paper, thick lines bleeding into thin as she worked, bent over the kitchenette table. A barn owl on the hunt, it's wings spread in mid flight and clutching a curling black ribbon, all confined by a thick black frame. A Drawing of a painting.


Blott carefully peeled the painting off the paper and walked back into the main hall. Any blank wall would do, she decided, and this house sure had plenty. She pressed she frame against the wall. The house resisted, pushing the painting back a moment, the frame jittering in her hand before the house yeilded. Carefully, she let go on the frame. The art hung steady. She tried taking it off, but it was stuck fast to the wall. Part of the Black Iron House now. A white owl in a ink black Frame on an ink black wall.


She took a deep breath and fetched her vest from the bathroom before returning to the study.


No sense in any preamble. She pinned William with her gaze. "You don't happen to know how this house came to be, do you?" She went for an air of casual curiosity, but even the crows voice wavered.

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

Genevieve rose and beckoned Fitz to follow her into the next room. She wasn't keen on having an audience for her tutoring session, and the others had their own business to discuss anyway.


The adjacent room was much like the one they'd just left--dark, oppressive, spare. And yet Black Iron House always knew what its occupants required, for this room was furnished with a small table and two straight-backed chairs. Genevieve trailed her fingers along the edge of the table but didn't take a seat.


Fitz seemed almost reticent to teach her now, though he'd been so eager when he'd first offered. Heaven knows she'd suspected him of a multitude of sins since then, and each time he had met her suspicions with nothing but loyalty. So perhaps she was to blame for this chasm that seemed to grow between them as he looked not at her but somewhere beyond her.


She bit her lower lip, then said softly, "Altamonte, I don't know if I can do this."

 

[UCBooties]

Fitz and Genevieve slipped out of the room but William paid them no mind. His full attention was on Blott and a look of profound confusion crossed his face, "Came to be? I don't..."


His frown deepened and he stole another glance at Frostine. There was something more than confusion in his eyes. Apprehension, perhaps?


He returned his attention to Blott, "I'm afraid I don't know. So far as I know Black Iron House has always been." He did not sound particularly sure of himself.


"I'm sure the entirety of its history is kept somewhere within its walls, but I have never had cause to go looking." His frown deepened again. He tried to open the Ledger but it remained firmly shut, as though it were just part of the table.


Speaking more to the Ledger and himself than to Blott and Frostine he murmured, "Perhaps we will find out more when the Writer returns."

 

[Arkadious]

The figure with the glowing embers for eyes, watching the Black Iron House from the shadows across the street, nodded his head and muttered to himself, "In Time, Master of the House, in due Time..."


His gazed shifted to another section of the House, almost as if he were able of seeing through its black, dreary walls, and settled on a cold silhouette. He whispered a foreign tongue under his breath, inaudible to any within earshot, but the Snow-ma's ears perked and a chill tickled down her spine. He glanced back to the window, to the Crow that was watching him and nodded, then turned and walked into the shadows...

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

"The Writer? You mean Lisbeth? What could she know about this place?" Frostine asked, donning her own look of confusion, "I mean, I can't read her mind, we're not connected like that, but as far as I could tell she'd never been to Black Iron House before..."


She trailed off. It was true that she didn't know much about her creator outside of her own world and what she had seen since becoming fused with her. Indeed, she hadn't even been aware that she was a Writer's Creation until the merge had taken place. Once it had, she had simply accepted the fact without question; of course she was not a real person, here was the one who Wrote her. Perhaps there was more blending between their consciousnesses than either of them had first suspected, for how else could she have so easily adopted the perspective of an outside observer to her own world? What was happening there without her? Was Jack all right? Was he, at that very moment, frantically searching for her? Were events continuing in her absence, or did the removal of the Story's protagonist and Writer put the entire thing on hold until their return?


Her musings were interrupted by the chill that oozed down her spine. Normally the cold didn't bother her - why should it? - but this was different. It buzzed and tingled and thrummed with unspoken power. It called to her, whispered to her, sang to her. Frostine had only felt something like this once before.


"Do you hear that? Do you feel it?" she barked, leaping to her feet.

 

[UCBooties]

William shook his head at Frostine's outburst.


"I did not hear anything. I assure you that you are quite safe within Black Iron House at this time."


He cocked his head questioningly, "What did you hear?"