bolderfell | Prismatica Inbox

Besides that. On a more personal level, is what I mean.

A source whose perspective I trust implicitly thinks the city may flood so deep as to partially submerge the buildings. I'm concerned, to say the least.

Seriously? Hell. Doubt we can get to higher ground now. We're not flooded yet, at least, but we don't live in the lower levels of the city.

Is there something the rainwater's supposed to have done to me personally? Something like the way the Lyestellan hot springs make you talk?

It's only a premonition; it may not come to pass. But he and I both have had that ugly feeling about this storm for a while now.

Yes, I'm afraid so. I know someone that was caught in it, and he's ended up in a bad way as a result. It seems he's been rendered unable to moonlace.

Hell.

Haven't noticed anything myself, but I haven't tried, either. Moonlacing, that is. Not like I can go anywhere or do anything in this weather, so didn't really feel the need.

[It's not, after all, Cordis.]

Don't exactly know how to convey exactly how wet I DIDN'T get when I went out that one time, either.

Be careful, if you do attempt it. When I say unable to, what I mean is —

It's not just an absence of results. Attempting it seems to actively cause him pain.

It hurts and it doesn't make any Chroma?

That's how it seems. As you can imagine, I haven't many avenues for testing the hypothesis.

Right. It's just

If it worked, even if it hurt, I'd ask if he could stand it at least a little. Running out of Chroma is a pain all its own. What's his moonblessing?

Sanguis. And I've done what I can; he's able to put himself into a state of hibernation of sorts, to conserve and replenish some of his natural energy. We're resilient creatures, we demons. He's comfortable for the moment. And guarded.

Unfortunately, the extent to which I can make him comfortable ends at the boundary between the shelter and the rain. It's almost as though the downpour is devouring any chroma it comes into contact with.

He has to have dried off by now, right? But it's still affecting him?

I can ask the healers I know if they've heard of anything like this. They've both been here longer, too. If Chroma's gone sideways on them before, they may know some way around it.

...Therion.

Why do you think I sought you out tonight?

[...]

I won't go out to ask them. They have these devices. I know one of them even knows how to use hers for sure.

Don't avoid me, pretty thing.

I didn't come calling in search of advice.

[...

...]

I know, I think.

But because you did, I wanted to offer. I mean, because you did come calling.

He's your partner. The one who's here in Lunatia.

He is, yes. But he's strong, for all that I worry. Next to the unimaginable things he's already endured, perhaps it's laughable for me to be even half so preoccupied.

But I suspect you understand how it rankles, to be faced with circumstances utterly beyond one's control.

I've lived most of my life facing circumstances like that. It's why I'm a thief.

To better answer your original question, pretty sure I'm all right. Honestly. By now, I'd notice if something was eating my Chroma. So at least you don't have to add me to your list of preoccupations.

Oh, I doubt you'll ever be stricken from my list of preoccupations. But I'll make a note of your current status nevertheless.

Wow. That's some esteem you've got for me. Or I worry you that much, but that interpretation's a lot less flattering.

Could I interest you in storytelling to while away the time until your friend's better, and your preoccupations are less preoccupying? It's the right weather for it.

It won't be quite the same as the last time we traded them, will it? More's the pity.

Still. I'll take any distraction I can get, I think.

You can pretend we're in the same state this time if you like. I won't confirm or deny any assumptions you make. Just let me refill my glass.

It's funny. Last time I told this story was over drinks, too. You might appreciate it even more than the tavern master did then -- it's about my cleverness getting me into exactly the trouble I deserved.

Pretend as I might, I'm afraid tugging on my own hair doesn't have quite the same effect. But I'll make do somehow, regardless.

I'm curious what coin you'll be claiming from me in exchange for your tale, also.

I know you didn't miss the part where I've been cooped up inside for days. I'm bored. Just tell me a story of your own when I'm done -- won't even ask it to be true.

Where you're from, they ever punish thieves with something called the Fool's Bangle?

All right. I'm sure I can come up with a tantalizing lie with which to entertain you, when my turn comes.

You'd be surprised by the myriad of creative ways my homeland has developed to punish thieves. But for the sake of the story: no, what is it?

Probably not much of a punishment by your standards, then. The Fool's Bangle is a metal band locked around the wrist of a thief stupid enough to get caught plying his trade. It's more 'humane,' supposedly, than sending them to rot in a gaol or cutting off hands to prove a point, but it shows anyone in the know that they ARE a thief, and a sloppy one. That band's spelled the end of more than a few careers. And more than a few lives.

What I'll tell you is how I got, and got free of, the Fool's Bangle myself.

Unless you'd rather not hear how a seventeen-year-old girl and her ancient butler got the best of me.

A humiliation, then. I can think of plenty of thieves that would sooner choose death than to be branded so.

I think I recognize these characters. Is this Cordelia and Heathcote? The sweet girl and the old man.

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