Fantasy The MPC Rushes Story, Cont.

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth looked at the rope hanging serenely from the roof of the porch. She fingered the tassel at the end, hesitant. Surely she should have seen this house sitting on the shore of the lake when they approached. How had she missed it? It was the only thing, aside from the lake itself, that broke the dreary landscape for miles. It had been there all along... hadn't it? She didn't remember seeing it on their way here, and yet, somehow, she was sure that it had always been there. She didn't know where this surety came from, but it was there nonetheless, lurking in the back of her mind like a comfortable pair of slippers.


There was one more thing she was sure of: this house had to be why the watch had sent them here. The only other thing around was the lake, still as death and rightly so, and she had to doubt that it was their destination. No, it had to be this house. Black Iron House. She reached out and took the rope in her hand, and it drew down easily at her touch. There was a ringing of bells, like the mournful tolling of funeral bells, that sounded quite far away. Lisbeth looked around at her companions, released the rope, and waited.

 

[UCBooties]

A chill wind carried the somber tolling of the door chime away across the still waters of the lake. For a long moment, nothing happened.


The door opened. Peering around it was a tall, slender man wearing slim black pants and a black vest and waistcoat over a white shirt. A black cravat was tied neatly at his throat. He blinked owlishly at the gathered travelers from behind the large round spectacles perched uncomfortably on his nose. After a moment he opened the door wider and stepped fully into view, greeting the strange group on the porch with a slight bow.


"Ah, yes, I believe you are my appointment." His gaze flicked to each of them in turn as though he were ticking them off a list.


"I see the feather and canvas, the smell of Turkish coffee, ice and ink, the dust of too many times..." He peered past them as though he expected to find another hiding behind them or somewhere in their midst.


"Is there... perhaps another in your party?" He ventured hopefully. "I hope they will arrive soon. All appointments with Black Iron House must be met with the utmost of punctuality."


He blinked again as though he had just remembered something important. "Oh, ah... yes. I am William, by the way." He offered a wan and thoroughly awkward smile, "It's a pleasure to meet you all, I'm sure."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth looked around at the surrounding desolation.


"Another...?" she echoed, "Who else would possibly-"


She paused, and her hand tightened around the pocket watch in her hand.


"Our other party member is here," she replied, "in spirit. Now, if you could please tell us how it is that we have an appointment with you, how you know of us, and what this house is, I would be most most curious to hear the story."

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott followed her companions as they meandered down the bank of the river, simply watching. Simply thinking. The dull throb in her left arm had returned, so at least that was back to normal.


When everyone else stopped, so lost in thought was she that she bumped into Genevieve! Curious, she looked around. A strange house. A still lake. Blott looked long into the deep black waters. She really wanted to stick her hand in it, just to see what kind of stain it would leave. Against her better judgement, she scooted closer and peered in, reaching out her hand-


The bells' solemn sounding startled her backward. No, probably don't stick your hand into waters of hell. She rolled her eyes at herself and refocused as the doors to the dark house opened. Ha, he's dressed kind of like me! She thought as this new man spoke, though he looked that he was at least trying for a more formal look, though it didn't quite work. He also looked like he belonged in an antique shop than the, what was it, Black Iron House? Whatever that was.


As Lisbeth began to speak, Blott settled for simply watching him. He certainly seemed...interesting, even if he didn't turn out to be useful.

 

[UCBooties]

William Blackiron fidgeted uncomfortably. It seemed to be something he was well practiced at. He looked at the Writer and then at each of the others, as though one of them might answer for him. The Artist looked to contemplating the lake, while the two time travelers waited patiently for him to speak.


Reluctantly he turned his attention back to the Writer. "Ah, stories," he placed an odd emphasis on the word, "yes. I'm sure you'll understand that I am wary of sharing stories with a Writer."


Another uncomfortable moment slid by.


"To your other questions," William continued, suddenly business-like, "all appointments with Black Iron House are recorded in the House Ledger." Somehow when he spoke you could hear the words House and Ledger being capitalized. "The Ledger states quite clearly that on this date, the Nonthingth day of the Month of Not, in the Nothingth Year of the Calendar That Never Was, that Five Individuals will have an appointment with Black Iron House. Furthermore that the appointment shall take place Nowhere, and that the business shall concern all involved as well as Black Iron House itself."


William gestured around to the emptiness and the inky lake, "As you can see, we are all at the appointed place, at the appointed time."


A beat too late, "Won't you all come in?"

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott wondered if she would ever again have a conversation without Capital Words. Somehow, she doubted it. Still, the new man, from the new house, had extended an invitation (though she secretly thought it sounded like an Invitation), and turning it down would get them nowhere.


Sighing through her nose, she squeezed Lisbeth's hand and smiled at her. "I'm sure he doesn't mean to be rude. We're just as suspicious of him." It was much easier to whisper in someones ear when you had a voice that could actually get that close to someone's head.

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth felt her throat close. For some reason she desperately wanted to insist that their business could be concluded on the porch, that there would be no need for them to cross that ominous threshold. The peculiar man simply stood waiting, politely gesturing for her and her companions to enter and looking almost as uncomfortable as Lisbeth felt. Emboldened by Blott's encouragement, she suppressed a sigh and forced herself to nod brusquely and step into the house. The master of the house stepped ahead of her to lead them all into the front hall of the house. The doors closed soundlessly behind them.


The walls within the house were the same oppressive black as the outside. The tall pointed windows cast long arrows of gray afternoon light across the hall. Lisbeth glanced around and shivered as she realized that there were no paintings or decorations of any kind in the hall.


Before she could stop herself she blurted out, "Stars and snows, this place is a mausoleum!"


She felt her face flush and started to sputter out an apology.

 

[UCBooties]

William waved away the Writer's apology.


"I admit that the decor is sparse."


The tall man led them to the right side of the large hall and opened a small door. On the other side was a study with a large black desk and a high backed leather chair behind it. There were no other chairs in the room.


"Please, have a seat." William gestured to the four chairs facing the desk. He made his way around the desk and sat in the high backed chair. He spread his hands across the bare surface of his empty desk.


The walls of the study were lined with bookshelves. Each shelf held identical volumes in black leather with blank spines.


William opened the heavy Ledger on the desk before him and gestured at the black china tea service that sat at his elbow. "Would anyone care for tea?"


As Lisbeth glanced around the room a title on one of the book spines caught her eye. In Which the Frost Maiden Takes Dancing Lessons From the Raven - L. Walpurgis. The Writer reached towards it with trembling fingers only to have the sharp voice of the Master of Black Iron House stop her short.


"Please don't touch that, it hasn't been written yet."


The Writer blinked in confusion and her hand fell away from the blank spine, identical to every other volume in the room.


"If you will all be seated," William repeated, "we can be to business. Black Iron House is here to facilitate your transportation from this place to another of your choosing. I will render what aid I am able until such time as my obligations have been discharged. Before we can depart, we have two matters to discuss."


He paused and took a sip of tea from the black cup at his elbow. After a moment he grimaced and put the cup down with a disappointed glance.


"The first matter we must discuss is where to go. Black Iron House can take you anywhere you need to go. But need is a funny thing, and it has a way of getting away from you. So what you need and what you want may be very different things. Or put another way, what you need generally and what you need right now may not be the same. So its best if we can come to some sort of agreement of what you're looking for before we begin."


"The second item, which must be agreed upon in full before any service can be rendered, is payment. Black Iron House will not render aid without sufficient payment. In the usual course of things, such terms are set far in advance of an appointment. In this instance however, my instructions are to see what each of you has to offer instead."

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott took in the house with interest. It was a bit drab, certainly, but it wasn't unpleasant. The walls could use some paintings though, probably black and white to match the rest of the house, though really, a bright watercolor or two could do wonders. She continued to mentally redecorate the walls was they settled in the study.


Leave it to Lisbeth to get grabby with the books, she thought fondly, but Williams reply bothered her. Not written yet? Though, everything else she had encountered recently has defied time and place, why not here too? She was almost used to it, which was worrying on it's own.


She declined the offer of tea with a wave of her hand a smile, settling into a seat. Her crow made a quick circuit of the room before finding a perch on the back of her chair as she listened.


What do I need? she wondered as she listened, But really, what can I afford? The thought was jarring, and she curled an arm around her waist, color draining from her face. She had made a deal like this before, only once. Even then, giving the most valuable thing she could ever have, it was only enough to seal her curse and stop its spread. She could not do it again, the circumstances of that...exchange...had seen to it.


She sat, ramrod straight. Her eyes hard. Blott had little to give, but would offer what she could. "I want for nothing, but can Draw most anything you need. Perhaps that can count as a payment towards whatever we, as a group, require?"

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

Genevieve nodded to William's offer of tea. Her cold hands craved the warmth and familiarity of a teacup, and, besides, having something to occupy her hands kept them steady. Lately it took much greater effort to keep her hands steady.


She had long since stopped wondering how their reputation preceded them across every When and Where. But the Master of Black Iron House gave her pause. He was certainly the least threatening person they'd met on their journey--less threatening than her own friends, if truth be told. And it wasn't the air of the funereal about the place, either. She'd been known to indulge in the morose from time to time and had spent more than a few pleasant hours walking among crumbling marble angels in old cemeteries. No, it wasn't William himself. It was the unseen Who lurking behind his business-like manner in all those third-person pronouns.


Needs and wants and payments. Such simple questions with such complicated answers.


Direction. Safety. Love. Were those wants or needs? Answers. Revenge. Blood.


No! She felt the panic rise in her throat at the unbidden thoughts. Slowly she raised the ebony teacup to her lips, hoping her tremor was undetectable. Anyway, we're talking about our needs, not my own.


Then there was the matter of payment. For so long, she'd been accustomed to making most payments with a wink and a smile and perhaps a gentle touch of an arm, a few well placed "darlings." It was abundantly clear to her that flirtations would get her no where here at Black Iron House. But what, then, did she have to offer? If what he said were true, William would have no need of a jumper, and that wasn't an ability she could control, anyway. And a man who lived so closely by his Ledger likely had little use for a glimpse into the future either--after all, his future was plainly written in the neatly penned appointments. She looked around at her friends, considered how dear each had become to her in the short time she'd known them.


"I have little to offer," she said, her voice--almost haughty--projecting much more confidence than she felt. "But toward our payment I can offer you my friendship. With it comes my hand to help and my sword to fight, when needed."

 

[UCBooties]

The tea is terribly bitter, with a sour aftertaste.

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

In the silence that fell after her offer, Genevieve resolved not to drink any more tea until they reached the world of the living. Apparently one couldn't count on a nice, simple cup of oolong in Hell.

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Her hand dropped away from the blank volume. It had had her name on it only a moment ago, she was sure of it. Something that hadn't been written yet... This House was unsettling, with its sudden appearance and disappearance of things, but she got the feeling that William Blackiron was even more unsettled himself by her own presence. Just how much did he know about the Writers? What dark truths were hidden within the walls of Black Iron House that caused him such trepidation?


Lisbeth took a breath and a seat and cast her gaze upon the Master of the House as he began to speak. As he laid out his terms she watched the way his grey eyes passed over them behind his spectacles, as though he were noting their presence while not really looking at them. He had a strong jaw, she noted, and rather pointed features, and his black hair was well-groomed and swept neatly to the side.


When he had finished talking, Lisbeth paused to think while her companions began naming their offers. What could she possibly offer this man? It felt like all too quickly it was quiet again, and she felt compelled to speak.


"I somehow think that simple coin is not exactly the sort of thing that you, or the House, or whatever, is looking for when it comes to payment," she began, "I have my skills as a Writer, but that is limited outside of my own worlds. Anything that I were to Write for you would only last a few hours at best. The possessions that I currently have are not my own, they are borrowed from another-"


"Lisbeth."


"Yes?"


"The mirror."


"But... you still need that. I haven't Written the part where you use it yet."


"Then you'll just have to Write me a new one when we get back to my world. Since it's from a world you Wrote it should be permanent."


She cleared her throat and continued aloud, "but I do have something that she has given me permission to offer."


She reached into her pack and removed a small silver object, holding it out for William to inspect. It was flat and round, a compact mirror that bore a delicate design of vines and small flowers.


"This is a summoning mirror. It was a gift from Titania, Queen of the Vernal Court of the Fey. When any being touches this mirror and speaks their true name, they are linked to it. You may then speak that name to communicate with that being, or even summon them to your side. I hope it's acceptable."

 

[UCBooties]

William considered each of the offers in turn. He glanced at the mirror and then at the ledger open before him and seemed to pale a bit, if such a thing was even possible for one whose complexion was already as white as his.


"Black Iron House is happy to trade in favors. For you Artist, and you Traveler," he looked at Blott and Genevieve in turn, "consider your terms accepted."


"As for your offer," he turned his gaze back to Lisbeth and trailed off with a look of dread clouding his face, "Black Iron House accepts." His voice was barely a whisper and he made no move to take the mirror.


William seemed to shiver, and a tremor like a humming string could be felt running through the chairs and floor of the room, and even through the china cups resting in the travelers' hands, just at the barest edge of perception. William fixed his gaze on the last traveler who had been silent until now.


"Do you have anything to offer?" Another tremor seemed to ripple through the room.


"We should conclude our preliminary negotiations," was there an edge of fear entering his voice? "Black Iron House cannot remain here for much longer. If we can come to terms we can be off to a more, ah, hospitable locale to discuss your needs in greater detail."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

"Stone's grace," Lisbeth thought as they waited for Altamonte to answer their host, "he's afraid of me."


No, that wasn't quite right. He wasn't afraid of her, specifically. She remembered what he'd said to her on the porch, that he was wary of sharing stories with a Writer. He feared what she was, not who she was.


As William's face grew paler, Lisbeth fought to keep hers from flushing. How dare he judge her so superficially? She didn't care what his strange and cryptic House had told him about her; he knew her not at all, not truly, and she was not frightening.


She set her jaw in determination: she was going to prove to this timid man that she was not someone deserving of such wariness. Of course, she'd need to stop being quite so angry first.

 

[slee77]

"William" Fitzgerald said "Excuse my being silent it's just that the last few times we have come across random people offering things it has usually been our heads at the ends of their blades. That being said it looks like you have a bit of books on what we know up top as Monsters!Now usually that implies you are a Monster Hunter of sorts and if you are Good on ya! I do see though that you are short a volume on Mythical Creatures from Beyound the Unholy Veil..and as it so happens" Fitzgerald pulls out a nicely leather bound book from his well worn satchel that says Mythical Creatures from Beyound the Unholy Veil Vol. 13 1/3. He then opens the book up to reveal it is a first printing and signed by the author! " I can give you that and my services should you need them in hunting down any of these monsters...for a while that and hunting down ancient artifacts was all I did and I wasn't too bad at it for the right price of course!"

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

William offered a wan smile before glancing down at the Ledger. He adjusted his spectacles with one long, slender finger and grimaced uncomfortably.


"Yes, Black Iron House accepts your offer of Signed First Edition of Mythical Creatures from Beyound the Unholy Veil Vol. 13 1/3 as well as promise of services," he told the Time Traveler.


He closed the Ledger gingerly, yet somehow it still sounded as if it had been slammed shut. The tremors passing through the room were becoming stronger now, and the fine china set rattled, perhaps feeling sympathy for everyone's teeth.


"I am afraid," said William, looking on the verge of being ill, "That that concludes our negotiations."


Black Iron House stood as it had always stood at the edge of the Lake of Unshed Tears.


And then it didn't. How absurd, a Victorian house sitting on the shores of Hell! Clearly it had never been there at all.


___


Elsewhere


Black Iron House had always stood at the end of Mayberry Street, looking quite out of place among the rancher style houses with their white picket fences and green postcard lawns. No one ever gave it much thought...


Inside the study reality pieced itself back together slowly. An impression here, a memory there, thoughts that might have been their own. These things coalesced together and each of the travelers found themselves exactly where they had been, some indeterminate when ago, and yet, somewhere profoundly different as well.


William gave an audible sigh of relief and straightened the already straight Ledger before him.


"I apologize if that was uncomfortable. I am not used to transitioning with so many guests. Everyone's memories sorted out?"


William steepled his fingers in front of him. "Now then, Black Iron House is at your disposal for the time being, and we will be safe enough here, for a time. Please make use of the facilities however you see fit and determine what you would like your next move to be."


Another awkward beat.


"I, of course, will be at your disposal as well."

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

It was a familiar feeling, appearing somewhere she hadn't been just a moment ago. But it was a feeling, Genevieve realized with a start, she hadn't experienced on her own since...when? Since before she stepped foot into the Sitting Room. No random jumps, not for days now. Though she should have been relieved, something about the sudden loss of her ability seemed ominous. Perhaps she would ask Fitz about it if they ever got a moment alone...


She walked to the window and peered out onto the street Black Iron House now occupied. Two girls in pigtails squealed down the sunny street on their pink and white bikes. A middle-aged man next door was taking a level and large clippers to his hedges.


"Oh, yes," she muttered sarcastically under her breath. "We're going to fit right in here."


She turned back to the room and surveyed her friends. Everyone seemed to be at just as much a loss as she was with what to do with the run of Black Iron House.

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth swallowed, her mind still swimming from the sudden transition.


"Our next move..." she muttered, barely managing not to slur her words, "I suppose, uh, I suppose that if we'll be traveling together we ought to bring William up to speed on what we've been up to, and what we're up against. That is, unless he already knows...?"


She thought back to their first interaction just a few minutes ago. He had called her "ice and ink" and knew that she was a Writer, but he hadn't used her name. Maybe he didn't know it?


"Well, my name is Lisbeth Walpurgis. As you already seem to know, I'm a Writer. One of my Creations, a dark god called Thanatos, is out to kill me," she gestured around, "as well as my friends. We've traveled through several different worlds just trying to escape him, but now we're seeking out a way to destroy Thanatos. I had thought perhaps the Lance of Longinus might be used to defeat him, but we don't know where to find it."

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott grimaced as the house shifted planes. Throwing up on her hosts floor was probably not a great idea, for more than just the obvious reasons. Still, where she wasn't filled with nausea, she was filled with relief. Her offer was accepted. She was going to be ok. She'd let Lisbeth and Genevieve talk business. Fitz too, if he wanted. She was, more or less, along for the ride, and happy to help, but...


She slipped out of the room, and started looking around. It wasn't snooping, really. She look the dark, dark stairs up into the dark, dark second floor. Oh, there was plenty of light, but the gloom was almost a physical presence, coating the already-black walls and creeping across the floors. Down the dark, dark hall, there were some dark, dark doors, and behind the dark, dark doors were...bedrooms?


The room to her right held two beds, each frame made of thick, sturdy wood, sanded and painted a matte black. The room to her left held three beds, each decidedly more feminine that those of the previous room. The posts rose into graceful pillars, carved with delicate vines opposed to the other rooms thick, plain bedposts. Just enough for the lot of us, if Arkadious were still here. But then, where did William sleep? Or did he need to?


There was one room left at the end of the dark, dark hall. She left it be. The creeping eerie feeling only intensified as she tried to draw near it, so, maybe best to leave it alone. Back downstairs it was then. She really didn't want to have to stay long enough to use those beds...she'd probably freak the other two out if she just sat and stared all night anyway.


The downstairs was just as boring as the up, all monochrome and otherwise normal. Except everyone knew the house wasn't normal. Thus, the apparent normalness was a little freaky. She wandered back into the study. Back to the destruction of Thanatos. Still, something chewed at the back of her mind. She was forgetting something, or not noticing something, or...something.

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth sighed. She wasn't yet sure how much she could trust William, but the others were her friends, and there were things she hadn't told them yet, not really.


"No, there's more than that..." she began, "We all met in a place called the Sitting Room. I received an invitation there, and before I knew it I had been drawn abruptly between worlds while I was Writing. This caused me to become fused with the character that I was Writing at the time. I think some of you knew this already. I don't know if any of you saw it, but I changed into her when I fought Thanatos in Fitz's hideout. Her name is Frostine, and... she is aware inside of me. She can speak to me, and sometimes she speaks through me. She's not human. In her world there are elemental constructs, called ma constructs. She's made of snow, so she's a snow-ma," Lisbeth smiled, "Frostine the snow-ma. Since we're fused, I'm not fully human myself, and my heart is missing."


She placed a hand on her chest, and felt the quickened pulse there. She hesitated. Should she tell them about the other heart that beat inside of her? The strange heart, not her own, that had appeared when the voice of Arkadious had spoken to her through his broken watch. She swallowed. Nothing could be gained, none of her burning questions answered, if she did not share these questions with her companions.


"Last night, though, when we all retired to our rooms at Grim's castle, I decided that I wanted to try to figure out some of what was going on here. So I gathered together a journal we got from Sherlock Holmes, a broken pocket watch, and a Blood Stone. They all had one thing in common: they had once belonged to man named Arkadious Grimoire. I pored over the book, and that's what led me to believe that the Lance of Longinus might help us. But I also found a hidden compartment in the back of the watch, one that the Blood Stone would fit inside. When I put the stone within the watch, it started moving and glowing. And I heard his voice. Arkadious. He told me that he was glad I had survived and that he was nearby if needed, but nothing else. It was over and he was gone, but... I had a heartbeat again. The only problem is that, according to Frostine, this heart isn't mine. I don't know whose it is, or why it's inside me, but I think now... Maybe instead of going after the Lance of Longinus and Thanatos... Maybe first we ought to be trying to find out just what the hell happened to Arkadious."

 

[UCBooties]

William shook his head slowly as Lisbeth finished her explanation.


"Hearts... How you Writers toy with them. Losing and trading and taking... as though it were a trifle."


When Lisbeth began to flush again and protest he waved his hands in an unconvincingly conciliatory fashion.


"No, no! Please don't misunderstand." He flushed himself, "I don't mean to give offense. It's just..." the tall man trailed off, seemingly searching for the right words.


"You had a heart once, your own heart, which you misplaced," Here Lisbeth looked as though she would object, "through no fault of your own," he continued hastily, "and now you have a heart again, one different than before that you suspect belongs to another."


He fixed Lisbeth with a solemn look, "But having a heart makes it your heart. Do you understand? Wherever it may have come from it will change for being within you. This is true for all souls, but especially Writers and Artists. The twisting and molding and making of things comes too easily, you must always take care to see the ways in which you yourself are being molded." He trailed off, apparently too flustered to continue attempting to explain.


He looked at the others in turn. After a moment he collected himself enough to continue along a different subject, "Do any of you know how this Arkadious came to know of Thanatos? Perhaps unraveling that mystery might give you some insight into what has become of him."


William glanced at Fitz before continuing, "As for the Lance du Saint-Sang... That presents other difficulties, difficulties which will be hard to explain. Hard for me to explain at any rate. There may be others with more specific expertise who we would need to consult."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

William's words entered Lisbeth's ears and started gnawing away inside of her. Oh, the power of words, a power that once she foolishly thought she could command. Now she had the scars to prove that she knew how pointless it was to think so. She tried to ignore the spreading wave of emptiness and the nausea it rose in her throat; there were more pressing matters. She shook her head and looked around, but no one seemed to know how to answer William's question about Arkadious.


"I don't know who to consult about the Lance, but as far as your question on Arkadious..." she mused, "That is an excellent question, and one that worries me. I hadn't considered it before. How could he have encountered Thanatos? I had thought that Thanatos was my problem to deal with, that I was his sole target."


She searched William's face, as though he might have some answer pulled from the strange dark recesses of the House, but after only a moment she self-consciously dropped her gaze.


"Why didn't I think anything of it before?" she asked her hands, "When we first met, it was like Arkadious knew me, my past, what I've done..."


There was a tightness in her chest and a lead weight in her gut. This heart that was not hers and yet was, how was she changing it? How was it changing her? She felt dizzy, and with one hand she gripped the front of her shirt tight.


"Are any of my emotions real?" she whispered, "How can I trust myself?"


Her panic was growing, a slow fester that was quickly becoming a swift infection. Was that even real? Who was she anymore? How many pieces of disparate entities could she alone bear, like some Frankenstein monster? The room felt too small, the air was too thick, she couldn't breathe, this alien heart was beating so loudly, surely everyone could hear-


For a moment Lisbeth slumped forward, but she quickly regained herself. When she opened her eyes again they were a bright aqua blue.


"My apologies," she said, "She was having a panic attack, so I thought it best if I took over for a while. My name is Frostine."

 

[slee77]

"Mayberry huh? I wonder what the locals are gonna think of us!? Maybe we should all stick around in doors. We tend to draw attention to ourselves and cause mass panic and havoc wherever we go!" Fitzgerald looked over at Genevieve who looked lost in her thoughts, gazing out the window. "Anyway. I suppose since it is nice a quite now is as good a time as any to start laying it all on the table and forming a plan no?" Fitzgerald took an interested as soon as a Lance was brought up." Can I take a look at this Lance?I would like to study it for a bit..if you don't mind of course!?"

 

[ArtBlott]

Oh, boys and their weapons. Blott wasn't too pure what was so special about this glorified stick, but everyone sure was excited about it. "We can study it all you like if we ever find it."


Her crow spoke absently, Blott's eyes trained on Lisbeth...well, it wasn't really Lisbeth anymore, was it? Frostine, wasn't it? Frostine the snow-ma. Apparently, this Writer fancied herself funny. Blott smiled in spite of herself as she spoke again.


"So, since you're the protagonist, can we assume you're a good guy?"