lostcompass | eye of the storm

eye of the storm

EYE OF THE STORM

This is an optional assignment, for those who are done U n w i n d i n g and want something to sink their teeth into until 15 October. Feel free to use this post if you have questions or want to plot among yourselves, but there will be no mod-run log — you're welcome to do your own and/or posts!

✘ OBJECTIVE: bring back fallen dragon scales and/or a crystallised eye from the Sibilant Sands wasteland outside of Serthica.

■ True to his word, Cain d’Ubiq has arranged for a dozen transport dragons to wait at Serthica's ports, reachable through the Mouse House.

■ The dragons accept new riders easily. Cain d'Ubiq's people have equipped them with dried meats, food, light shovels and water supplies, binoculars and climbing hooks. Bring your own weapons.

■ The Sibilant Sands are a long red stretch of withered land with misted peaks and abrupt canyons. Beware the nauseating aridity of the region — and massive whirlwinds that coalesce unexpectedly and can easily pull in skittish dragons.

■ Reaching Cain's coordinates takes you to a valley of fallen dragon bones, half buried in dunes, some peeking. Careful: sand dunes can easily pull you in as you inspect, while local scavenger creatures would delight in fresh meat.

■ White, opalescent scales are buried haphazardly in the desert. Dig long enough — exposed to quick sands, the elements and various creatures, and you might even find an eye. Scales are up for grabs, but sign up by 10 October to RNG for the eye.

■ Bring your loot back to the Mouse House. No pressure, but the eye would be exceptionally handy...

QUESTIONS

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Unlike a few other people she knows, Lila doesn't have the ability to sense the dead in the way they do, only her own personal ghosts. Of which she has a few.

"Probably a lot worse than that by now. Been a lot longer than five minutes since I've set foot in London."

Technically, they're already here to steal from the dead. Even if a couple of uniforms are much different from what she intends to palm. "Only what I find useful."

No qualms about having to deal with dead bodies, though she wouldn't be taking any personal items.

"Exactly my thought, could be something I might need. Hm, dormant until we piss them off." She has never tapped into Klaus' abilities before, never even tried. It wasn't something Lila needed to use.

It's not so much a sense as recognition. You know the smell of the world just before the sky breaks with rain? Ghosts have that too, but you feel it in your gut, not your nose.

"Christ, how long've I been out? Feels like a few days. Time's bollocksed in bloody Wonderland back there."

He begins fumbling for a cigarette, a battered packet of silk cuts. "Take what you like; I'll not stop you. Promise you a stunning eulogy if you piss off the dead twats in the walls."

Speaking of: here they are at the lighthouse. The entrance hangs open like an empty mouth. "In for a penny," John says, taking a long-legged step over the threshold.

Not once has she asked Klaus what it was like for him, mostly because Lila wasn't all that interested at first, and then because there wasn't much time to. The only time she was close to an actual ghost, he was on her side.

"No idea, mate. I imagine time passes differently on different worlds and realities. Heard a few hourly chimes when it was tea time."

Lila turns her gaze to his moving hand, though the movement isn't one of him going for a weapon, so it drifts away easily. "Brilliant. Be sure to drop in something about umbrellas in a cryptic manner, and I won't have to haunt you."

That is her own personal note for a certain paranoid old man that she enjoys tormenting a little. No traps go off when he goes over the threshold, so she follows. "In for a pound. Shall we split up a little?"

They don't need to walk so that they're tripping over each other, but neither of them know this place to break off completely.

He lights the cig, holding his hands around it to protect the flame from wind. It picks up a little, making his trench-coated shadow seem to grow extra arms, or perhaps a long, thick tail. For a moment he feels like he's gone static, an image in time repeated, but never changing.

It passes.

"Should you like to go all by your lonesome? I remember those ghoulies you were so worried about."

While tall, dark, and blonde does dramatic posing with light and shadow, Lila will step around him into the open space with only a hint of caution. Eyes scanning for traps or triggers that might go off at the intrusion of the pair here to rob the dead.

She looks back at him and flashes a grin.

"Only worried about the ones I can't hit. So stay within shouting distance." Lila is no delicate flower that needs to be babysat, that is the exact opposite of what she wants from anyone.

The grin's a killer. It reminds him a bit of himself, a bit of the bluster of the seventies and the eighties. It's waking up in the back of someone's truck next to a guitar you can't play; it's leaving home because you won't cut your hair; it's digging up the talking corpse of your Jacobin ancestor. He thinks he likes this girl.

So, naturally, he pushes back.

"And how'll you deal with the incorporeals, Lil?"

Give her a good time in an abandoned building, toss in some potential dangerous enemies to punch, maybe even a killer soundtrack, and watch this lady shine. Sitting around at home cooking meals for her man was never Lila's style, even if that day may happen down the line. Not when this is the alternative option for activity. Taking back what little control she has over the situation is very important.

At his questions, both shoulders go up in a shrug.

"I'll shout, and you'll either pull off some neat trick or we leg it out of here to try again later."

"No fun, you are. Not even spooked in a haunted house." But his tone is indulgent. She no longer reminds him of Gemma, thank Christ. She reminds him of himself. If, you know, he'd been smarter and fitter at that age. The respective differences in race and gender leave her distant enough from his loathed self-memory that it feels like she might have a hope in hell of making it.

(Christ, he's getting old.)

He keeps following. On the wall, rooms are stopped up by doors tight as wine corks. Some have crumbled to dust, revealing only emptiness. Shadows linger too long. A jagged line has been cut in the wall, and John follows it with his finger, humming an old tune between puffs of his cigarette.

It curves up and over and leads him to a door with a lock. A door with a lock means someone wants it kept closed. Means it can be opened. John grins, and lets out an echoing whistle. "Reckon I found somethin'."

"Gets a bit dull when I know a guy who talks to ghosts on the regular," she admits easily. Give her something else terrifying, and he might get to see her looking more spooked by it. Even then, Lila would do what she could to survive, whether that meant fighting for her life or running.

As she peers into each room that she can, there's a severe lack of articles of clothing hanging around waiting to be snagged. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. If it were, The Merchant might have gone for himself. Hearing the tune being hummed, Lila has an idea of just where Constantine is and how close he is. Good for keeping tabs on each other.

When he whistles and calls out, she turns on her heeled boot to move towards him. Joining him at the locked door. "Every other room looks picked clean of uniforms."

Eyes scan for anything unusual and land on a plaque. "'To gain entry, make a wish.' Surely nothing could go wrong." To her, it very much sounds like another sign she recently read that says to not ring the bell.

"Have a wish you want granted, or shall I have a go?" There's a wish, one that's been at the back of her mind ever since she got here -- no, longer than that.

John lifts his hands, takes a step back. You first. "An' look at me, perfectly bloody contented with everything."

Not true, not remotely true, but he's happy to let the girl take the fall for him. It only said it needed one wish. John knows better to make deals like that unless things are far, far worse than they are.

(He still remembers that feeling of glass in his gut, the life leaking out of him... it was different than standing on his own power in the half light, smiling like a twat.)

This probably isn't the best idea, and if Lila were making the wish for herself, then probably wouldn't go through with it. The chances of someone here being able to help her with the one thing she truly desires are incredibly small, even with all this magic running rampant. Nothing about this world screams "safety" and her reckless nature is willing to bet on dodgy wishes for the sake of this single need.

So she puts a hand on the plaque, just in case that's necessary.

"I wish for our baby to be safe through all this crazy shit." Lila's words are quiet, barely above a whisper, and feels this wish deep within her very soul. For all her worry about being a terrible mother, about failing their baby like her mum failed her, she wants this pregnancy to go as smoothly as possible. Diego's words of reassurance echoing in her mind, certain that she was a good and decent person underneath all of her crazy bullshit.

Once her wish is made, her gaze flicks over to Constantine. "Don't tell anyone about that."

No one here from her world knows this secret she's carrying, finding out secondhand through someone else will just cause problems.

Just the slightest grimace wrinkles the line of his face, but it subsides before Lila can catch his eye. He knows better than to let that feeling show, genuine and awkward and scrappy.

When she gives him an order, he just shrugs, and gives her a placid wink. She doesn't know he's the world's least bloody reliable source for a secret-keeper. He doesn't feel enough sympathy to elucidate her on the situation. A benefit of someone reminding you of yourself, when you also really do truly loathe the who that you are.

The door swings open with a stony rumble. John makes his way through first. "Home again, home again, jiggedy-jig."

Trust is hard for her to give, even to people she genuinely cares about and actually loves. Lila has played her fair amount of mindfuck games instead of allowing herself to be vulnerable with them. This man is a virtual stranger to her, she has no idea of knowing whether he'll go off and tell everyone the news. If he'll keep it to himself and use it against her one day, or if the only way he'd say it is if there was potential fatal harm to her and the life growing inside her.

She may like to play off of Five's paranoia, but right now her own is rising to the surface. It terrifies her to tell Diego's family about what may be the newest addition, not just because of her insecurities about being a shit mother, but just the very idea of having people who legitimately give a shit. Yet having Constantine know about her most closely guarded secret may have her confessing it to them much sooner than she ever would have on her own. Somehow, she doubts threatening his life is a tactic that would work - it's in the way he's been handling everything so far.

No remark about her wish has Lila following suit on not letting that conversation continue. Just follows him inside the no longer locked room. "Looks like we've got our pick of uniforms here. Need a new coat? Only slightly used."

John treats information the way a miser treats pennies. You never know when you might need one. Save it up for a rainy day. He has no plans to fuck with Lila's life, but the second it benefits him to do so-

He'll feel real bad, after.

But he chuckles, more at her spirit than the joke. If she's anything like him-- and he thinks she is-- she knows she's a little bit fucked. Keeps on grinning, though, keeps on working.

"Mmm, not me style. But they're a perfect fashion for evidence, I reckon."

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