[hr][hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/kUDa86R.png[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][color=BC3823][i][b]Present: Ayla Arslan [@Ti], Evander Fino Synesti [@RezonanceV], Tku Pictor [@dragonpiece], Fiske Flachstrauch [@jasbraq], Zarina Al-Nader [@YummyYummy], Desmond Catulus [@Th3King0fChaos], and Yansee Keelee Kensen-loon [@CaliforniaState][/b][/i][/color][/center][hr][hr][color=BDB76B]Marceline did not realize that she had fallen asleep. She’d ended up talking to Fiske the previous night, in their shared misery and then… the next thing that she knew, she found herself woken by a cat. It was a large, fluffy orange one, very much like Kurbis, and she thought that it was him for a moment. The teenager rolled over lazily in bed. She may have slept but it had clearly not been all that much. [color=598527]“Oh hello, little fellow,”[/color] she yawned, reaching out to ruffle his ample fur. Yet, her unexpected visitor was rather insistent, unleashing a stream of rather eloquent meows and yowls, pawing at her, and design away towards the door, shooting expectant glances back in her direction. He was trying to tell her something, and that got her attention. 

[color=orange]“Miauw,”[/color] he prodded, and she rose to a sitting position, wriggling and stretching out her toes. [color=orange]“Prrauw! Brrt!”[/color] She could feel pins and needles in them - the unwelcome tingling of dying nerves - and took a moment to stretch them out. It was ever a battle and she would need to find another grey aberration soon, or even a white if she was desperate. [color=orange]“ME.OW.”[/color] She regarded the creature dimly for a moment before sighing. [color=598527]“Okay. Okay. I’m coming.”[/color]

[color=orange]“Mew.”[/color] He seemed satisfied with that, pacing around the door as she stood and stretched. She’d fallen abed in her day clothes, so there was no need of a change and, as she looked about the room, her eyes fell on Fiske, who had similarly fallen asleep in a corner on some cushions. Her cheeks flushed. To have fallen asleep in the same room as a boy - one who she was… she shook her head. It was scandalous, but nobody here would know or much care, she imagined. The cat - she had been thinking of him as Kurbis in her head, though he was not - was now pawing at Fiske, and he, too, snapped awake. 

In the proceeding few minutes, both were led cautiously outside, through the slowly-stirring streets. Morning had taken hold of An Zenui and the surrounding environs, and it was already a hot and vicious thing. Sand from the previous day’s storm still lay about the place; the Stuzé-Upets and other assorted slaves had been hard at work, but they had not yet cleared it all. Not-Kurbis hurried out ahead of them, his little head glancing back, letting out the occasional [color=orange]“meow”[/color] of anxious encouragement as he assiduously avoided the areas where it clung to surfaces or had piled up in small drifts. For much of their walk, moments of stillness prevailed. The arms of the sun reached deeper into the shadows of the canyon in which much of the city lay, but it was, as always, the rich who enjoyed first light. 

It broke over a clearing by the cliffs and there was already a small crowd of curious onlookers gathered. Fiske shielded his eyes with magic from the glare while Marci used more traditional methods. Both took in a gasp. From a scraggly tree hung a body, swaddled in ornate silks and flowing veils. It took them both a moment to recognize who it was. 

[color=598527]“Ayla.”[/color] Marceline darted forward, her voice a terrified squeak, and she bade Fiske to follow. The cazenax and sirrahi who had gathered swirled back at her sudden approach, jabbering rapidly amongst themselves in their foreign tongue at the arrival of the two humans. Marci paid them little and less attention. She reached out with her senses and felt the energies in Ayla’s body. To her immense relief, the girl was alive, but her breathing was shallow and her heartbeat irregular. Fiske, of course, could’ve already told her as much, for such were his gifts as a sensemaster. 

Together, they brought their friend gently to the ground, pushing back the nascent crowd, and trying to figure out just what had happened. It was Fiske who sensed it first. [color=FF00FF]“Poison,”[/color] he said grimly. He’d been grim ever since last night. She had too, but there was no time for self-loathing at the moment. [color=FF00FF]“It’s a paralytic.”[/color] She was not good enough with chemical magic to have sensed it, but he clearly did. [color=FF00FF]“Look for those places,”[/color] he directed, [color=FF00FF]“Where the muscles seem colder.”[/color] Arcane was a language she spoke at least a little, and she found them after a short interval. The damage was near-terminal, but binding was a language that Marci spoke considerably better, and she set to work. If she could not neutralize the foreign chemicals, she could remove them entirely, and heal the harm they’d done. The entire time, Not-Kurbis paced around protectively, and she began to grow suspicious that there was something special about that cat. 

Ayla was jarred from her near-death reverie quite suddenly, and opened her eyes to the sight of Marci and the cat - Benny - leaning over her. Fiske hovered nearby, holding off a growing crowd, and they did not have long to linger. Within a minute, she was on her feet and they were on their way. Perhaps they might’ve headed back to their underground bolt-hole beneath the cliffs, but the city had become an oppressive-feeling place, full of hidden enemies, where they’d be instantly recognized and surrounded by crowds. If they’d found a handful of sympathetic faces, like Pan’s, they were, at best, a curiosity here. To some of those in power, however, they were a threat, and it was Ayla’s recommendation that they reconvene at the 4S sweetwater farmstead. 

[hr][hr]
Zarina’s journey there had been of a different sort. Her vigor and ambition to catch this Wesca - this puppetmaster behind the attack on the stead and perhaps other happenings - had collapsed against an onrushing wall of profound exhaustion. Yansee had not betrayed her, either. Against all odds, the renegade eeaiko had seen her safely to the farmhouse and, after a slightly tense encounter with Zox, to bed. Persevering through mumbled half-coherent resistance, she laid the Virangishwoman to sleep.

[hr][hr]
The city still held its poisons, however, and they festered under the fuming midday sun. Naxos and Tku had decided to leave An Zenui for the time being, heading back to the stead, and they had retrieved Desmond - none too popular a figure even if innocent - from his cell only to find him sleeping. 

It helped with Tku’s cover story, at least, for Naxos had advised him to avoid Desmond’s wrath with a little white lie about how Benedetto had learned the truth. Why, even now, forces were roving about the city, searching for him, and the threat of mob justice loomed. They also, after a fashion, decided to make their return to the farmstead, away from prying eyes, crowds, and the ever-hovering danger of what was starting to be revealed as a far-reaching conspiracy. 

[hr][hr]
It was into this cauldron that Tennaxi and Classa inadvertently walked, or, at least the [i]latter[/i] did. Zarina had sped off in another direction unexpectedly during the early hours, and the ambiguously undead eeaiko who they were not certain they could trust had disappeared in a crowd. Now, they found themselves alone in the city. The clamour for Nyax-Acan was all about them, but there was no going unnoticed for very long. If centaurs were not a common sight, they warranted little more than a second glance, and Classa was generally a sponge for attention, prancing about, talking to people, and putting on a show. Tennaxi had never been noteworthy or different in any way that she could remember, and the stares and points quickly began to force a retreat. [color=D8BFD8]“Is it just me,”[/color] she whispered to the junior accomplice upon whose back she rode, [color=D8BFD8]“or are they… kinda hostile?”[/color] A handful, at different junctures, had already darted off in some other direction, seeming in a hurry to get there. 

[color=C71585]“They seem a lil’ weird,”[/color] the girl agreed warily. 

[color=D8BFD8]“This isn’t how things [i]usually[/i] are for… sorry, what was her name again?”[/color]

[color=C71585]“Samaxi,”[/color] came a pointed reply. [color=C71585]“And umm, no. They’re not.”[/color] 

Then came a shout. [color=gray]“That’s him!”[/color] and another: [color=gray]“[i]Her![/i] It’s a her!”[/color]  

[color=D8BFD8]“Fuckin’ [i]excuse[/i] you!”[/color] Tennaxi retorted.

[color=gray]“It’s Potes-Palix!”[/color]

[color=gray]“IPotes-Palix.”[/color]

[color=gray]“It [i]is[/i]!”[/color]

[color=gray]“He’s gotta be crazy.”[/color]

[color=gray]“Or ‘she’!”[/color]

[color=gray]“Didya think what disguise could fool us!?”[/color] shouted one boldly.

[color=gray]“The fuckin’ [i]nerve[/i]!”[/color] cried another.

Tennaxi’s heart was hammering and, beneath her, she could feel Classa tensing up. The little centaur was about ready to bolt. [color=D8BFD8]“Classa,”[/color] she whispered, [color=D8BFD8]“What the hell did Samaxi get into?”[/color] but the girl only shook her head fearfully, as the first shout of “assassin!” leapt forth from the crowd. [color=C71585]“I… I dunno!”[/color] came the high-pitched reply. [color=C71585]“She just sold sweetwater.”[/color] She shook her head. [color=C71585]“And she’s still here somewhere, or else…”[/color]

[color=D8BFD8]“They fu-”[/color] She paused and tempered her language in front of the child. [color=D8BFD8]“They got her or she’s in trouble.”[/color] 

[color=C71585]“Or maybe she’s [i]dead[/i]!”[/color] wailed Classa, and she broke into a quick trot, the milling mass of people surrounding them jogging or running to keep pace.

Tennaxi tried to give her a reassuring squeeze. Riding was a harrowing thing without legs, she was learning. [color=D8BFD8]“I think she’s just lying low,”[/color] she tried, not sure if she believed it herself. One of their unwanted escorts tried to reach out for Classa’s tail and Samaxi summoned what she could of magic to bash him away, lest the centaur kick. That was it, then. It was on. A second one came, and then a third. Kinetic shoves and slams tried to hurl them off course and Tennaxi found that her capacity - always high by the standards of her people - was a good deal less now that there was a good deal less of [i]her[/i]. [color=D8BFD8]“Run, Classa! [i]Run![/i]”[/color] The horse-girl took off and she was, indeed, fast. Wind rushed through Tennaxi’s and Classa’s hair alike, and the twin streamers rippled behind them. The crowds began to part. The gate hove into view. In the distance, Classa even thought she might’ve seen Tku and… some other human guy. 

That was when there was pain: pain and sudden nothingness. When she came to once more, she was in a large room with stern-looking men and Tennaxi was nowhere to be seen. 

[hr][hr]
If she was lost to Classa for now, virtually all of the others were eager to be out of sight as well. Amid swirling crowds and increasing scrutiny, they made a desperate flight towards Jascuan and the sirrahi’s bolt hole from two directions. Time after time, by trickery, stealth, intimidation, and cajolery, they escaped those who paid them extra attention. They drew close, their goal within sight, their pursuers evaded, and Tku, Desmond, Naxos, Ayla, Fiske, and Marceline dared hope that they might’ve pulled it off. They could slip in unnoticed and leave their hideaway safely anonymous.

Then, towering before them, out of nowhere, came a Seeker: a demon of the fourth tier. It filled most of the alley that it emerged from and there was no way that it could fail to draw the attention of anyone watching. From two angles, they laid waste to it, but it took all six of them and every ounce of power that they had. It drew exactly the unwanted attention they had feared, forcing them to assault and knock out two more interlopers There should never have been such a monster moving about in broad daylight in the middle of the city and, if it had been summoned in so precisely in their path, its summoner had been someone who possessed both great power and knowledge of who they were, where they were, and what they were doing.

They scrambled into their hole in the ground, some unexpected mirth and desperate camaraderie along the way, to find that Jascuan and Samaxi had preceded them. Five long hours of travel down a tunnel and an emergence in the desert as the shadows began to grow long saw them battle profound exhaustion, delirium, and claustrophobia. In the home stretch, they overtook Jascuan and Samaxi, making their way forward only with the help of magic. By the time that the expanded group straggled in through the archway of the farmhouse, Pauppaup was there with Yansee to greet them and Zarina was still in a land of blissful dreams. There were strangers in the house, prisoners in the shed, Classa and Tennaxi missing, and…

None of it mattered. Tku passed out on the spot. Desmond staggered and seated himself ungracefully on a sofa. Marceline, Fiske, and Ayla followed, finding whatever space looked comfortable. Mostlike, they did not even register the absence of their two allies, else they might’ve been stirred to action against their better judgement. The home was left to Zox, Yansee, and Pauppaup, exceptional trust placed in the latter two only by dint of circumstance. 

Afternoon gave way to night and night to morning. Zarina was the first to rise, and Samaxi a few minutes later. The latter brewed an invigorating sweetwater drink and, soon, they were all up and present, but for their questionable eeaiko allies and - now they noticed for certain - Classa and Tennaxi. Surely, something had gone wrong. Surely, nobody would stoop so low as to harm an innocent [i]child[/i]. There was so much to say - so much to be exchanged - but how much time did the group have? They needed a plan and they needed it quickly.[/color]

[hr][hr]