[right][h2][color=999999]Lost in Translation[/color][/h2][@Tlazolteotl][@Auragreedia][/right]

[color=lavender]‘[/color][color=brown][b]And maybe put the sword away 'til you reach the speakers. Don't wanna hit nobody on accident.[/b][/color][color=lavender]’

The assumption that she would draw her weapon wildly, without cause, stung more than Teresa would admit. She hadn’t even unsheathed the thing!

‘[/color][color=brown][b]‘n pardon my language, but what’s gotten into you? Somethin’ troublin’ you?[/b][/color][color=lavender]’

For a long moment, Teresa said nothing.

‘[b]The server we met, back at that first bar[/b],’ she said, evenly. ‘[b]He claimed that solving this man’s... [i]Catharsis[/i] would show us the way to return to wherever we were pulled from. I imagine that would involve resolving our own troubles, whatever they may be.[/b]’

What [i]would[/i] her own Catharsis look like? Westbound’s mindscape was a caricature of a place obviously familiar to him. If their Catharses reflected the places they came from, what would be brought to light? Her home? The training grounds? Caden’s workshop?

[i]Tipsy Chambers.[/i]

The bar that she’d arrived in had been familiar because she [i]knew[/i] it. It was the bar that had been privy to her and Caden’s hushed conversations, where their tentative cooperation had shuffled into something more concrete. Reliable. The ache in her chest tightened. 

[i]Is that really what I’m going to have to come to terms with to leave?[/i]

She said none of this to Morgan, of course. That would be unprofessional.

‘[b]I suppose it’s the uncertainty of what I’ll come to face that concerns me. Everyone’s got their own skeletons in the closet.[/b]’ She slowed her steps. ‘[b]Speaking of...[/b]’

They’d found it. A stage, filled with audio equipment. A child, left on his own. A father, coiling his belt.

In a few, quick strides, Teresa was on the stage, making a grab for the father’s wrist as he raised his belt for another strike. This place wasn’t real, not in any consequential way, but...

‘[b]That’s enough[/b],’ she said, sharp as cut steel.[/color] 

[hr][hr]
[right][h2][color=#7ece73]Vicis’ Catharsis[/color][/h2][@silver21][@spiral origin][@DaftJive][/right]

[color=7ece73]The question had scarcely left his maw when the oddest little creature appeared on his other side.

Vicis would have missed its peculiar entrance if not for the abrupt tickle of lavender against his tongue, where there had been none before. The oddity had him glancing over – and behold! There sat a [i]goat[/i] with a burning candle on its head, sipping tea! Vicis turned towards it with great interest, disregarding the silver-haired woman entirely. He was dimly aware of another human stumbling towards the bar, but Vicis paid him no mind. The light was catering to the new arrivals, but that, too, Vicis paid little mind.

‘[b]My, my, aren’t you an interesting sight?[/b]’ A soft hiss escaped him in his enthusiasm. ‘[b]Pray tell, what manner of creature [i]are[/i] you?[/b]’

None of the goats Vicis had snacked on in his lifetime had ever looked so [i]human-esque[/i]. Doubtless the Blessed Knights would be eager to hunt it down if they knew of its existence. Or... perhaps [i]they[/i] were the cause of its existence. After a moment’s thought, Vicis sent a considering glance at the human male leaning against the bar.

[i]Bah.[/i] Strange clothes, but not a Blessed Knight. To ask him about the matter would be a waste of time.[/color]