The Evernight Church is happy to send people to the scene!

...well. "Happy to." Obliged to by treaty and also it's their sacred duty, yadda yadda etc. You know how it goes. Regardless, there are people being sent to the scene. One of them is

Sleepless Pathway, Sequence 8 Midnight Poet
Evernight Goddess's Nightwatch
James Orland

at their service!

Death Pathway, Sequence 9 Death Watcher
Evernight Goddess's Nightwatch
Frye Webb

After they show their badges, they are let in past the police tape, the front door, and inside.

For a scene of a likely occult ritual, it's surprisingly neat. No obvious visible signs of a ritual being conducted, and there's barely even a mess at all. Just the regular disarray of ordinary living, no candles or strange scents on the air. If it wasn't for the bloodstains on the wall, the small puddle around the wash basin, and the bodies, it would look normal.

Frye's face is naturally set into something like a frown, but it frowns more pointedly the minute they cross the threshold.

"... Their souls are gone," he reports to his colleague, in an undertone. They haven't had time to fully dissipate, not for an ordinary murder, which confirms that this sure is their department.

"—gone? Gone, gone? Not there at all? Huh."

He activates his Spirit Sight to look. He cannot see souls without it, unlike his Death Pathway pal.

Souls? What souls? What a silly thing to think. There was never anything alive here at any point in time. It's just a couple of piles of meat. They just happen to be human shaped.

"There aren't even traces of them being ripped away," murmurs Frye, approaching the bodies with an unease that has nothing to do with their status as corpses. "Not even the faintest shreds of spirit left. It's like they were never even alive."

He disables his Sight. "Well, that's disturbing. And definitely under our purview. And... I am not certain us mere mortals can deal with this on our own without calling for a little bit of reinforcement."

His colleague nods. He quite agrees. This seems above their Sequence and paygrade.

"I'll talk to the witness and draw a sketch of their mysterious third."

So: please go get someone to tell the captain for him, he's running away to go draw pictures, thanks and bye.

Yeah, he can do that. He'll get one of the non-Empyrean police officers looking stoic and trying to hide their spookedness to send a handwritten note to Captain Smith, please and thank you!

And then he activates his Sight again and begins to investigate this location more thoroughly. What oh what the evernightmarish fuck has happened here?

The sun has set, and night's beginning to set in, so the dark will hold no secrets from him.

To his Sight, there is a faint aura of expended power, like the aftershocks of an earthquake, that tastes like sacrifice, centralized at... that desk there, but... that's all there is. It's not really much. Barely even a whisper of power, when anyone would expect this place to be screaming something bad happened here so loudly that even the fully mundane people are spooked away.

To his ordinary (to certain definitions of ordinary) vision, the desk contains, pen, paper, and translation notes of some kind, covering a book. The book announces itself as a linguistic text on the subject of Feysac; specifically, ancient varieties used in the Fourth Epoch. It looks like someone was trying to translate something... but whatever it was, it's not here anymore. Nothing here could be that old.

Would he like to try to read what was written of the translation?

Yes, yes he would. If he knows the translation, maybe he will know the original!

(He is not a history buff. He probably won't. But it can't hurt.)

(Well, it can. But very few things that can hurt you by being read would be this thoroughly invisible to his Sight, and you just can't live like that.)

thou will be gone (dead, possibly?) but thy descendants shall (make ready/be fertile ground for) thy return.

(???? this is not what page 2 said before??? Did the pages stick together? Did something fall out?)

seeking with blind hands, shifting clumsily through endless (mist/fog) but all are connected in the (beyond/eternity/nexus of all creation)

fear the (dark/night - possible link to Evernight Goddess?) as it comes to steal death itself

in a womb of the oppressed shall horrors be conceived, nourished by resentment and suffering

SERVE ANTIGONUS WITH OUR DEATHS.

He takes a step back and begins to reconsider his stance re. whether reading something inert to his Sight can hurt him. This is even creepier than he'd expected, and—

—he looks at the wall behind him, and nods minutely. "Definitely above our paygrade," he murmurs to himself. "Current paygrade," he amends, before returning to the notes.

He may... decide against reading any more, though. Possibly. And might just want to collect it all.

The paper with the ominous words is perfectly amenable to being collected, and neatly stacked for transport. He doesn't even suffer a papercut for his trouble, let alone unknowable horrors that corrupt the mind and soul.

(This time.)

Next what he'd like to do is try to figure out a timeline of events. This would be much easier if they had a Diviner Pathway Empyrean here but they don't, so he will need to do this the boring old-fashioned way, by looking at spiritual vestiges and the literal physical state of this room. Also possibly interviewing the staff.

Well, the spiritual vestiges of the room are very easy. If there are any besides the faint ominous aura of sacrifice, he can't see them. Maybe someone of a higher Sequence, or of the Death Pathway or something similar, could get more out of it, but these secrets aren't kept by the dark.

The staff is similarly easy, if just as unhelpful: there is a housekeeper, and occasionally a cook, but the cook wasn't working today and the housekeeper is the one who found them. If he'd like to talk to her, he's free to, though she's probably still speaking with Frye. A neighbor might have noticed something, though they might take issue with being roused to assist in a police investigation after dark.

The literal physical state of the room... it looks like several people, at least two to potentially four, spent a lot of time here. The plates and teacups are stacked neatly for retrieval by the presumed housekeeper, but there are enough sets present to imply that those who used them had several meals here. There are a couple books related to Feysac or the Fourth Epoch that look like they either were to be read, or checked and then discarded, in a little pile on the coffee table. There's an unopened wine bottle, and two untouched wine glasses.

...two wine glasses. Were they fucking? Also, wasn't there a third person Frye is getting info about? But yeah okay he doesn't think he can get much from this, he's gonna go hover over Frye and see what's up.

Frye does, by this point, have a sketch of the woman in question, and passes it to James silently.

He's a very good artist, at least for portraiture. This is perfectly usable as something to show neighbors and coachmen, to see if they've seen her.

"- might've been a school friend of theirs? He and Naya were from the same class, she often helped him with his homework," the housekeeper is saying.

"She had luncheon with them earlier but then... left?"

"She was there when I left, but I don't know if she stayed?"

"I see." Would be really cool to have a Diviner buddy here right now. "Is there anything else you can tell us about them? Were the three of them meeting often, I know you said Mr. McGovern and Ms. Bannister often did meet...?"

"Um, yessir," she says, coughing in a demure, ladylike way that makes it nonetheless very clear what they were often meeting for. "I - think Mr. McGovern wanted assistance in translating some sort of book that he spent a small fortune on? And Ms. Bannister was enlisted to help, but they found it very frustrating. Their third lady was who they both went to help with, I believe. But I never caught her name, sorry."

"I understand. Thank you very much for your help." Neil would be good, too, if they can't have a Diviner buddy. Would be really good for Neil to come back into the field, he was very useful for this stuff.

Anyway, it's night but, like, just past sunset. He thinks he will in fact try to go out and see if the neighbours saw anything.

The neighbors are unhappy about having their doors knocked on for police questioning, but are in fact amenable once the badge is shown and the seriousness of the situation is impressed upon them.

"... I think I saw a woman that looked like that leaving the McGovern residence?" offers one, thoughtfully looking at the picture. "I remember being worried about a pretty young thing like that, heading home alone, but, well, this is a very nice part of town, so I expect she made it home all right." The matronly woman frowns and tries to think of the exact time. "I think it was around eighteen that I saw her? Possibly a little after? I was taking in the washing."

"Thank you, Ma'am, that's helpful. Do you happen to remember the direction she went in? Was there anything noteworthy about her, like something she was carrying or the way she was dressed...?"

"Mmmm, that way, I think?" She points east, down the main street of Half Moon. "She seemed to be carrying something? Not in a bag, just with her. It was rather small, but I couldn't tell you what it was, sorry. Dressed very plainly, a burlap sack would've done her more justice. I'd've been a menace with that waist of hers, at her age..."

He smiles. "Maybe she is."

He talks to a few more people, but no one's really got any more information than this woman does, so he goes back to the house to see if their resident Death Watcher got anything while he was gone.

Looks like!

"Mr. McGovern was armed at the time of his death. A pistol or revolver, some kind of sidearm." He motions to the holster, hidden under Mr. McGovern's jacket. "I believe taken after - the jacket was moved, as if to grab something under it, and then put back. It wouldn't have fallen that way, when he collapsed."

So. Probably their might-be-a-menace is also armed.

"...but it wasn't used to kill them. She might've used it to kill herself, if she was affected by whatever happened here, or she might've taken it to protect herself if she was scared of it. We'd have heard if she'd shot up a market."

Frye nods.

"Some care was taken to disguise that there was a gun on the scene at all, but not enough to remove all evidence. That... probably means something, about the level of sophistication and control of whatever it was." He has no idea what, though. He sure would like the backup to get here, already. The fresh bodies bereft of any spirit are freaky.

This whole situation is freaky. "I shared your drawing with our coworkers, and we'll see if anyone at Khoy University recognises our possible fugitive-victim."

Another nod.

Look, he's done his fair share of talking, but now he has nothing to say anymore. James is the talkative one, of the pair.

But James also does not have anything more to say. He's a man of action, and there are no actions to take. So for now, they'll wait, either for backup or a response.

Sleepless Pathway, Sequence 7 Nightmare
Evernight Goddess's Nightwatch
Captain Dunn Smith

"The evidence seems consistent with suicide, and the methods of suicide seem consistent with occult influences. The bodies lack spirits entirely, as if they were never alive. The third potential victim was possibly a classmate of theirs, and she made off around eighteen o'clock, possibly carrying Mr. McGovern's gun. 

"There is also evidence of an Artefact. It seems like they were trying to translate something, and what they did translate was..." He pauses. "Terrifying. Gave me a very bad feeling. There was a particular name that gave me a bad feeling, I don't know why. 'Antigonus'."

...nervousness.

Yeah. He knows. Even saying it feels wrong.

"Antigonus," repeats Dunn softly, tasting the name. "Can't say I know of it, but it does sound suitably ominous. I expect three victims is more likely than two, with how these things go. Three is a number with power, and this feels..." He frowns at the scene. "Subtly powerful. Was there anything that set this third apart from the other two, that you could find? The lead translator, perhaps?"

"Seems so, yes. The other two were apparently seeking her help, unable to translate whatever they wanted to translate, which is unsurprising, as it seems like it was probably in Ancient Feysac."

"Mm. Then whatever power took hold of them is likely centered on her." He carries a pipe; he's too polite to smoke indoors or anywhere but at home, but even just the smell of his own special blend of tobacco and mint leaves helps him focus. "But no obvious killings besides these two... could be a two part ritual, with the third death meant to activate something at an appropriate time, at a more prepared altar." Which, he does not need to say: would be really bad.

Dunn sighs. "I'll get Neil on the ritualistic implications of this; we should be hearing from him and Ms. Simone shortly."

"Oh, should we," James says dryly, expecting—

One of the candles on the desk suddenly lights up in green flame, and a blank sheet of paper soon has text appearing on it, a list of names one after the other. One of the names is underlined. 

And then, when that's done, the letter is signed with "Good Night!"

...so dramatic. James approves.

This brings a slight smile to their captain's lips. Yes, her timing is often impeccable.

But he is ready with a pen, and neatly writes below the list of names:

"Thank you very much. Please ask Neil to look up the name 'Antigonus' before you go to bed, but don't let us delay you. Pleasant dreams."

A little heart appears next to "Pleasant dreams" and then the green flame goes out.

When will these two fuck. They've been doing this for years.

Well, it won't be tonight, that's for sure.

"'Elaine Moretti,'" reads Dunn, dutifully. "I suppose the skewed demographics in the intellectual community aid us here." Not that he likes those, but it does narrow down 'woman in their class'. "Frye, please see to bringing the corpses to our morgue, and clean the scene of anything that might contaminate a future ritual."

... wait, don't the bodies help with communing with the spirits...?

Dunn spots his unspoken question, and answers it. "With this level of detachment, their bodies will be of no help to finding and contacting their spirits. Our priority is evidence of the control or possession left on the corpses themselves, preferably quickly." So: autopsy as soon as possible, please.

Ah! Okay. This has literally never come up for him before, but that makes sense.

(Yay, he can stop talking to people!)

"And you and I," says Dunn, to James, "will need to try to chase down our wayward scholar." Which, practically speaking, probably means going through church records to find out where she lives. Since... it is now properly night, and it is frowned upon to bother people with questions at this time. If people were disturbed every time there was a mysterious dark ritual about to go off, they'd never get any rest.

He's sorry, James. It's going to be very boring.

"I suppose Neil must be asleep at this time."

"I'm afraid so."

There are downsides, to the Sleepless pathway, besides all of the usual downsides to being an Empyrean, and they are: when everyone else is asleep, you get to keep working.

But his captain will be right there with him, so. That's something.

That's something.

He still has more hours in the day than most people, and he gets to beat up monsters. Worth it.

The obvious way to chase down their wayward scholar would be to look through the records of her at Khoy University. Unfortunately for the Nightwatch, Khoy University is on the other side of town, and more relevantly, in the territory of the God of Steam and Machinery. Daly, being herself, was capable of clandestinely investigating their student records without any kind of fuss, but trying to shake an address of residence out of it would be harder. It's not their jurisdiction. They would need to engage with their sister police unit, the Fifth, also known as Machinists, who of course are not prone to operating in the middle of the night if they can at all help it. This doesn't mean working with them is impossible, just that the realities of inter-church politics makes it more than a little inconvenient.

It is much easier to just look through the Evernight church's records to see if they have anything on a 'Elaine Moretti,' if perhaps a bit more roundabout. And tedious. There are a surprising number of Morettis in Tingen. Not to mention, most people don't exactly tell their church where they live, unless they're particularly devout. Elaine Moretti does not turn out to be a particularly devout member of the Church of the Evernight.

They eventually manage to painstakingly connect her to a Benson and Melissa Moretti; her siblings. Their mother was a devout churchgoer, but she and her husband have now joined her Goddess in the eternal dark. The address on record offered by her is accordingly about a decade out of date. It seems like Benson ended up raising his two younger sisters, and as such hasn't really had... time... to interact much with his mother's faith. Nonetheless, this is a promising opening that might lead somewhere at some point, possibly through his employment.

But all of the Nightwatch being asleep at the same time is what is known to many as 'a bad plan', so it is James's sworn and sacred duty to get his three to four hours of daily sleep, while Dunn keeps at it.

And when he wakes up, presumably his Captain has some work waiting for him, yes?

He sure does!

"West Borough, Distaff Lane, 1364, Unit 3," he says, when James reappears, implicitly ready for work by his presence. Dunn stifles a yawn. "The autopsies showed no signs of any strange markings indicating the power for long term control or possession, which is... good in some senses, bad in others."

He nods. "Is that Ms. Moretti's current place of address, or just a starting point?"

"Current place of address, as of three months ago, but I doubt whatever force is controlling her would have her return home. If the possession was short term like our decedents, it's likely whatever task she was given is now over, and we're going to be looking for her corpse and the altar she died at." Yaaaaaaawn no, no, still working, then he can sleep. "So we'll need a corporeal based tether from her home for ease of tracking her down. Hair from a brush is probably the most likely, or clothes yet to be laundered, or her bedding. If her spirit is as annihilated as her fellows, things she kept with her often or cared about will not help at all - we want physical tethers based around the body." Blood would be best, but they're probably not lucky enough for her to have been recently menstruating.

"Understood. I'll get to it. And you, Sir, should go to sleep, now." This would be so much easier with more people good at mysticism in the field. Like a Diviner. Or Neil. Or Daly, although Daly is stretched thin as is. Always good to work with her, though, she's great.

"Mm. Yes, I quite agree." He stifles another yawn as he gets his coat and hat, to head home to sleep.

... oop, wait, he almost forgot: "In the unlikely event that you do encounter Ms. Moretti at her residence - do not engage. If she confronts you, your orders are to retreat. If you happen to spot her, you may tail her, but that is all. No direct interaction. Am I understood?"

When one is in charge of a James Orland, one is very careful about 'Don't do anything stupid' orders.

"Yes, Sir. No engaging," unless he finds a real good reason and opportunity that will not risk having his soul stolen.

He waits patiently for whatever else Dunn has certainly forgotten.

He would not forget things so much if James told him about the Acting Method.

...yeah, he knows. But if he says anything, the Church will certainly...

Dunn pauses to look suspiciously at him, then seems to find this answer - well, as acceptable as he's going to get.

He is almost out the door, when he stops and remembers - "Oh, and Seeka managed to get a hold of the residence's cook - he confirmed that the object we're looking for is a book."

He nods. "Makes sense. Probably whatever it was they were trying to translate." It's a little tragic, honestly, that this might've all been an accident. Just running into an Artefact they shouldn't have. Which is a kind of tragedy that happens all the time on this wretched world of theirs, but, well, is still a tragedy for its commonness. "Thank you, Sir."

Nod.

"And please be careful."

That seems to actually be everything, because he doesn't stop again to add anything else as he departs.

James is now free to go scurry off and do all kinds of stupid things on his own recognizance.

He will not do any stupid things, actually, thank you! He will go stalk someone who is possibly dead, possibly possessed by an evil spirit or (un)Sealed Artefact or worse, possibly the evil mastermind of two deaths! That is literally part of his job. Harrumph.

Anyway, yes, time to go. It's now officially not night anymore, which means he can just get a carriage to somewhere near his destination and then walk the rest of the way. Unfortunately it no longer being night means that he is weakened and can no longer Simply Run to his destination without drawing too much attention, which would've been faster especially if he did so by hopping from rooftop to rooftop, but so it goes.

Truly, it is a terrible burden, having to work during the day, and spend his (halved, compared to completely ordinary people) sleeping hours in the precious night, instead of getting to spend the whole of it running from rooftop to rooftop like a magical madman, chasing down monsters and criminal Empyreans. But such is the responsibility of protecting the general populace from the horrors of the unknown; society has made it so that things are done during the day.

The carriage ride is uneventful and inexpensive, and the walk after is brisk and refreshing.

He arrives just in time to see someone leaving the apartment that looks... rather like his target of investigation, but too young to be her. Likely the youngest sister; she looks to be only about fifteen.

"Remember!" she calls back down the hallway inside. "Only eight pounds of bread. And try to search around for a good deal on everything else!"

...hmm. Melissa, then, and is she talking to... Benson? Except Benson should be away at work for a couple of days according to their records.

So, maybe Elaine is still alive. Or something pretending to be her is.

Could be something not pretending at all and just inserting fake perceptions into Melissa's mind directly.

...or something not pretending to be her except for... making Melissa believe so... is— James honestly thinks that this is just a roundabout way of saying it's something pretending to be her.

If it's not pretending to be her directly then that changes what it'll do next.

Yeah, sure.

Well, soon enough, a someone who matches her age and description exits the apartment, empty basket for apparent shopping on her arm.

She... doesn't look like she has any nefarious goals of completing a dark ritual.

They never do.

...that's a lie, actually, they do it surprisingly often, it's mind-boggling. People really do be acting and looking like two-bit villains out of tuppence store paperbacks and then being confused when people realise it. Mad. Makes his job easier, but still: mad!

Anyway, either her or something pretending to be her. What does his Spirit Sight have to say about this?

This sure is a perfectly normal looking human.

Her emotional colors are a little... nervous? But not terrified for her life frightened. Not 'doing something dangerous and illegal' anxious. It's perfectly explicable as just 'going out alone in a not-the-greatest-neighborhood as a single young woman' nerves, which... she is certainly that. Beneath that, there's a background air of curiosity to her, but held dutifully in check by the clear mission she has been given. Which might be ritual related, but also might -

...

Yeah, it's literally just about getting the shopping done. The way her emotions spark when looking at prices imply that she's going to gleefully go deal hunting.

...what.

What?????

Okay so either it's literally just regular Elaine Moretti, who isn't even an Empyrean, or it's an Empyrean of high enough Sequence James should just bolt and report it. Which would be a wild overreaction on his evidence, of course, so instead he'll keep following.

...she's not what they expected.

Yeah, she really doesn't match the vibe he got from the descriptions, no. But secondhand vibes don't always match firsthand impressions.

But there's still something about her.

...yeah. There is something about her, beyond all of that. Something he can't quite put his finger on. It's the thing that's making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. She looks... almost...

... like she's a little unsteady on her feet, a little out of sorts, like a woman waking up from a dream, maybe? But like she's finding her proverbial sea legs quickly.

She doesn't seem very... practiced... at the art of haggling, but perhaps her sister usually did the shopping. Elaine is a recent college graduate - she's gained a lot more free time, lately. And she takes to it very well, and seems to find it satisfying. Her arguments for why this cut of mutton should be one halfpenny cheaper are very well reasoned and articulated, and eventually accepted. There isn't any hint of gibbering madness about 'this should be cheaper because the voices say so' or something, and she's not in any kind of obvious rush to complete her errands.

Content to do a lot of walking, if it will ultimately save some money, which... is just practical, with her economic situation.

She's honestly very charming? He was not expecting this, especially after the snotty rich kid impression he got off her classmates. But this is a very nice, sensible young woman with a clear had on her shoulders—

There's a man, over there. Behind a pillar, looking a bit shifty, and looking at her.

—aaaaand he's not the only one following her. This case is not simple, is it? So now he's having to stalk two people.

What does his Sight say?

Low-Sequence Empyrean, almost certainly 9, maybe a particularly weak 8?

And James is a particularly strong 8 so it's probably not a problem.

Onwards, then.

The sensible young woman who is being followed by at least two separate people from two separate groups finishes her shopping. She looks very pleased with herself (and just a little bit smug), and swings by a newstand, as an apparent reward for a job well done. To pick up... yesterday's paper, which is so cheap it's nearly free.

And then she will find a nice place to sit and peruse it, in a shaded and out of the way location.

This young lady is acting mighty oblivious for how much common sense she has. James feels like if he'd been near a spooky occult ritual yesterday he'd be more worried about being stalked?

...hm, it occurs to him that maybe she wasn't affected by the occult shit yesterday. Maybe the thing that affected her classmates affected them after she left—

Incredulity.

—yeah, that's really unlikely. If nothing else, she almost certainly took McGovern's gun with her, and that is not the behaviour of someone who... wasn't affected.

And there's everything else about her, too.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Carefully paging through this newspaper, like she has no connection to any occult influences whatsoever, and in fact no idea they exist. Just sincerely seems to find these articles fascinating.

She is still somewhat making the attempt to be aware of her surroundings, though.

And that other guy following her really isn't very good at his job. Plus, hanging around in the same area while she reads entirely by herself makes it... rather obvious. That there's a(t least one) guy. Hanging out nearby. Looking at her.

...

She does, to her credit, attempt to play it cool. (Though her flare of suspicion is obvious to anyone who has their Sight up at that time. The downsides of not knowing there is a vector to protect against.) She finishes the article she was on, pretends to check the time, and up she gets.

Anyway unrelatedly to any people that may or may not be following her, she's taking a detour through the local circus, which is certainly not any clever ploy to lose them in the crowds and confusion.

He really isn't very good at this. He follows.

That guy really isn't very good at this.

James could get to her in... 1.2 seconds, he thinks, from here, without attracting too much attention. He could be faster if he wanted to attract attention. And he could be faster still if it were night.

He keeps his distance.

A clown approaches Elaine, and offers her a pamphlet about the circus.

Aw! How kind of this friendly clown, she thanks him sincerely and steps over here out of the way of the throng of people to peruse this interesting pamphlet, in a spot that just so happens to be next to this window that is reflective so she can see behind her, and - flare of irritation. She's actually kind of insulted, that he's this bad at this, and making it this obvious.

Anyway time to go ~aimlessly wandering~ into the lovely circus, looking at the sights, considering buying some of the (incredibly overpriced) food, what a normal thing to d-

- okay she's broken line of sight, hat off, hair down, and into a nearby semi-random tent she dives.

Oh, she's not bad at this at all—

The clown!

—the clown? What about—

He's not there anymore.

...three people. Elaine is being followed by three people. This is starting to get ridiculous. Can he find the clown?

No. But it's a circus, the clown could be anywhere, really?

It's a circus, and it's daytime. He bets he could find the clown if it were night.

No. No, he probably couldn't.

...really?

Fuck.

The other man is going after her—

James is standing there, leaning against a stall, and he makes eye contact with the man. You've been noticed, buddy.

—and he lowers the brim of his hat, turns around as if he's forgotten something, and walks in the opposite direction.

Good enough.

And now... James waits for Elaine to exit the tent, and watches for more stalkers, because at this point she may as well have four or five of them.

Inside the tent, someone is systematically wrapping her hat in the newspaper to stuff it in the basket with her shopping, and - hm, the inside of her overskirt is a different color than the outside, maybe she can remove it, turn it inside out and turn it into a shawl -

"Ah, lost sheep," says the fortune teller in the tent Elaine walked into, "come forth. Accept this guidance for your path ahead." She has har hands framing a crystal ball that glows with inner light. "Destiny is profound, its path unpredictable." She spreads a tarot deck on her table. "Tarot can help you peek into its mysteries."

If she has a reaction to this random girl starting to undress in her tent, she is too professional to express it. Or perhaps too professional to let it stand in the way of getting a customer.

Oh. Well. This is awkward. She - pauses a little in something like embarrassment, then resumes what she was doing.

"If the guidance isn't free, then I'm afraid I will have to pass," she says, politely, carefully turning the skirt inside out and trying to figure out how best to drape it into a convincing shawl.

"You're the first person to seek divination today," she says, lifting her head so her smile is visible below the hooded cowl. "It's on the house."

... this distracts her from her mission a little, because she immediately wants to try and find the catch. Free? Really?

"... With the interpretation?"

"Indeed," she says, then gestures at the cushion on the floor in front of the table. "Take a seat."

...

She really shouldn't, there's a guy stalking her, but it's not like he can see inside the tent in a way that wouldn't be incredibly obvious, and she doesn't think he knows which one she went into, so - maybe lingering here will confuse him a little.

And - well. She has reason to think magic exists, now, so. A divination might actually help, in this situation.

"... all right," she says, and hesitantly sits, setting her basket and makeshift shawl to the side. "Then, uh. I'll have the - past present and future reading, please."

She Definitely Knows How Tarot Works, Mhm. Totally.

She collects the deck and offers it to Elaine. "Shuffle the deck, then, focusing on your question and intent."

Okay.

She does this. It's a little awkward - the sizing of the cards is unlike what she's used to - but: cards get shuffled, and she even is mostly thinking about how she is in the middle of having a very interesting day, and furthermore would like to stop being stalked, please! Which seems like the most relevant question possible in a past/present/future spread!

Deck: onto the table.

"Hmm." The reader closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, then slowly draws one card and places it face down in front and to the left of Elaine. "This represents your past." She draws a second card and places it directly in front of Elaine. "This, your present." A third card, in front and to Elaine's right. "And this, your future."

She smiles and lowers her chin onto her interlaced fingers. "Very well, Ms. Free. Which card do you want to see first?"

"Present."

She's starting to feel a little bit dumb for going with this, but, here she is.

She slowly, slowly places her hand on the middle card, then pulls it towards herself. Lifts it up into the air, and then lowers it face-up before Elaine.

"The Fool," she says. The card shimmers, and a breeze stirs the herbs and lanterns hanging from the stakes holding up the tent.

She looks at it.

"... flattering," she says, drily.

But probably not inaccurate. Considering.

She smiles again. "The Fool represents a fresh beginning with limitless possibilities. It is about freedom and adventure. You are starting a new phase in your life, and your story is only just beginning. You don't know how it will end, or what will happen before it does. Whatever came before might influence your journey, but it will not determine it, and fate is in your hands."

That absolutely does not at all help with her being stalked problem, thanks!!!

"All right, then what's my future sa-"

"Hey!" comes a voice from outside the tent.

The Fortune Teller stands up suddenly, looking—caught?

"Why are you impersonating me again?" says the source of the voice, barging in. She's also wearing a hooded cowl, but the hood is down, and she has mystical-looking tattoos on her face.

Whoops.

"You're just an animal trainer, and don't you forget it!"

"But—"

"Go check on your baboons. Don't let me catch you again!"

You know what this looks like, to Elaine? An excellent distraction for anyone watching this tent. That seems more valuable to her than any kind of questionably effective divination.

There was a reason she dove for a tent, and the reason is: tents are made of cloth held down to the ground with stakes. Technically speaking, one does not actually need to use a doorflap to leave a tent. Notably, this one isn't attached very low to the ground. So she can actually just grab her stuff and slide on through that little hole in between cloth and ground, right into the space where it borders other tents. It's admittedly a little undignified, but, well. Dignity's not going to save her from a stalker, so she'll just have to save herself however she can.

And then she dusts the dirt off of her skirt (technically petticoat), wraps her skirt-shawl around herself in a way that hides her dark hair, and starts getting out of here, at a brisk, but ordinary, walk. So as not to draw attention to herself in the crowd.

(Clever of her. Not clever enough, but still. Clever.)

(James wasn't clever enough to notice the clown, now, was he?)

(Yes, yes, he is being a bit hypocritical.)

This excitement ambiguously behind her, Elaine is going - okay, not straight home, she doesn't actually want to lead anyone following her to where she lives, but. Circuitously heading home in such a way that she passes by her home's street and later doubles back in a sneaky way that might throw off any stalkers of the known level of competence she has seen displayed.

But. She's definitely just going home.

(He really wasn't expecting any of this. He'll send HQ a message and continue to follow her, but the day is turning out really interesting.)

(It's a very big part of why he loves his job, how many of his days don't go like he'd expected them to go.)

A young lady wearing an elaborate braid and a fancy dress is looking at a cracked bronze mirror in her room. "Mirror, mirror, in the name of the Hall family, awaken!"

There is light, and then she's somewhere else.

A man stands on the deck of a ship. With the help of the afternoon light, he's inspecting a strange glass bauble that contains a swirling, frozen storm.

"Doubt this'll trade for the ghost shark blood, whatever it is," he mutters, to the wind. "What I wouldn't give for a damned chance to climb in this crab bucket -"

The frost inside the bauble swirls, and then he's somewhere else.

The somewhere else is shrouded in grey mist, with tiny motes of light surrounding them in the fog.

A silhouette of a woman stands above them, inscrutably looking down on them both.

Her two guests can see each other, through the fog, though not well enough to make out each other's faces. However, she, or perhaps She, is clearly apart and above.

Oh.

Audrey cursteys. It... wouldn't do, not to be polite to a deity.

"Milady, if I may ask... where is this?"

Alger is suddenly re-evaluating everything he just recently said and did, and is estimating just how incredibly fucked he may or may not be. He - maybe did express a desire for something while holding an unknown artefact in his hand, and imply out loud, with his words, that he would be willing to make a deal for it. Specifically of the phrasing 'What he wouldn't give'. He has been pulled into an unknown space without any kind of ability to resist or consent. It is not clear if he can ever get back, and certainly not under his own power.

There is a mysterious Someone that was responsible for this, who may or may not be holding his soul in Her hands.

Yeah, he's gonna bow, too, thanks. He's not exactly good at it, but he is now highly motivated to try.

"...and, if I may ask," ack, bad, don't repeat yourself, "might You be the mistress of this Divine Realm?"

"Elsewhere," says the figure in power, a little amused, to the first question.

The fog swirls, and pillars rise around them, stretching out to connect to each other to form archways. Stairs rise from the ground to hold a throne, where their host daintily sits.

And then her (Her???) head tilts, and she (She) asks, taking on a playful tone, "What do you think?"

I THINK I AM GOING TO DIE SO THOROUGHLY NOT EVEN MY SOUL GETS TO RETURN TO CREATION, THANKS.

Well that's not terrifying at all!

"I think..." She thinks... what does she think? Yes, she's terrified but also... kind of excited? Her father keeps distracting her with pretty trinkets he claims are magic relics and they never are and she never stops hoping, even when she knows nothing will ever come of it, except this time...

Well, this time, something did.

She cursteys again, and smiles. "That I am honoured to be in Your presence, Milady."

Uh yes pleasantries he should. He should do that. He should say words.

He bows again, a bit better this time. "I as well, Your Eminence."

Was that the proper term of address? Maybe! He has no idea! He's never done this before! It sounded fancy, and hopefully doesn't piss Her off!

His voice found, he can get to the most important business he can think of, which is:

"And how might we - entreat You, should we want to be returned to where we came?" He almost said 'ask' instead of 'entreat,' but he definitely heard a priest use 'entreat' when addressing the Lord of Storms, so, probably that's the correct word to use? He thinks? Maybe?

She inclines her head in response to their flattery, then answers the question.

"You need only ask. I won't keep those here that don't wish to stay."

Good! Very good! Better, even! They're not trapped! And... Audrey senses no malice. Mischief, maybe. And she's aware that she's in a goddess's domain, and everything she sees is what the goddess wants her to see, but...

"Milady, may I entreat You to provide us with seats, as well?" Is this overly bold? Oh, probably. Oh no. "B-but of course, You may do as You wish..." Wait, 'may'? "N-not that you need my permission...!" Audrey Hall you are going to get squished like a bug by the goddess and it will be deserved.

Another curtsey, and she bows her head. "Please, forgive my impropriety, Milady."

This verbal flailing earns a soft chuckle, and She obligingly provides then with chairs. Two rows of them, with a great table between them, like they are all sitting down for a meal, or perhaps a meeting. With Her at the head of the table.

"You're forgiven. Seats are certainly within My power to grant."

Okay, so... this is not the worst it could be? She is almost friendly for a probable goddess, and will apparently send them back upon request. And will just. Provide them with chairs, if they want them.

Alger didn't, really, but they are here now, and so he will sit, because it seems like the thing to do. (Shit, shit, is that agreeing to a deal? Is he selling his soul for a chair???)

She lets out a relieved breath, and smiles again, taking her seat, too.

Also, she's realising that she hasn't let the man sitting across from her speak at all, and this is very rude of her, so she'll give him some space to ask his own questions, too.

No questions. Questions are dangerous, and he asked the most important one. The answer he received was a good one, but that doesn't mean he wants to tempt fate again. Yet.

But... their host been very accommodating, actually? And there is no trick to the chairs, She actually just offered them a place to sit after being asked. If Alger had been pulled into the Divine Realm of the Lord of Storms, and failed to show proper deference, or even improperly decorous deference, His Lordship would - well, it would not end well for him, at the very least. He certainly wouldn't care to make His subjects comfortable.

(So... maybe this can be leveraged as an opportunity?)

He is still nonetheless content to let the bumbling noble girl walk first, through this proverbial hallway that likely contains traps.

Their host seems entirely fine with the silence. She just sits, looking at them both. Patiently.

...okay, Audrey isn't comfortable with silence.

"Milady, how... may we address You?"

She gives a thoughtful hum, as if bestowing Her name upon them is a deal which She might not agree to.

(Names have power.)

"You may address Me as The Fool," She decides. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She does not ask for their names.

The Fool... That's not any god she knows or has ever heard of, although she knows there is so much she doesn't know, her education was decidedly orthodox.

It's also a strange title. The Fool, the unnumbered tarot card, the major arcana that trumps all others, and also the one that comes before all others. But She is a goddess, and not foolish or reckless... probably. Hopefully. Is that Her true name, or just an alias? Is She a goddess Audrey has heard of, hiding behind anonymity for some reason? But why would She need to do that...?

Audrey is overthinking this.

"It's my pleasure," she replies, and almost gives her name, too, but—doesn't. Even if The Fool can know everything there is to know about Audrey, she doesn't know anything about the man sitting across the table from her. Politics, she doesn't like politics, but... this is important.

"Mine as well. Thank You, for Your generous hospitality."

The Fool... not any god he knows, but... he wouldn't, would he. But She continues to ask nothing of them, merely seeing them as - possibly an amusement. Which is good, comparatively. Being entertaining is perfectly within his power, without overmuch cost to himself. Theoretically. (And he did not think he was going to end up a kept man to a mysterious female benefactor, doing tricks for Her amusement, but here he is.)

While asking questions of gods is perhaps a bad idea, there's no reason he cannot address his fellow mortal.

"What brought you here, miss?" You're nobility, he doesn't say. It's obvious in her accent, in her manners, in the way she - seems to think she's entitled to being treated as something more than a tool to be used and discarded. What do you have to want for, in your cushy life?

Oh, she's being addressed. "I've always hoped for something mysterious and magical to occur, like this! This is such a wonderful experience!"

Those are... certainly adjectives that could be used to describe this.

"But what do you hope to gain from it?" He knows what he wanted, and is of the opinion that it's probably not worth it now that he's here, but - was she just doing this for fun?

What kind of idiot is she??

What does she hope to gain... Well, the answer is obvious, when asked like that. She turns to The Fool.

"Ms. Fool, what can I do to become an Empyrean?"

Why do you keep asking the terrifying unknowable deity for things!

Well, because the terrifying unknowable deity allows it, of course.

"Such a dangerous question, asked so lightly," She gently chides, propping her chin on her knuckles to lean forward. "You might be better served asking your fellow before Me."

... what?

Him???

.... There's no cosmic danger, in deals between two ordinary mortals. Just the ordinary amounts of danger. And she just admitted she's not an Empyrean, so in this sense, he has the advantage. And their host declined to take advantage of the obvious opening, instead presenting it to him, so -

- he will not immediately show his hand, but he now sees how he can leverage this to his advantage. He came here for something, but he just might be able to get it from a noblewoman instead of a goddess; a much safer proposition. "You're from Loen, right? Join one of the Orthodox Churches - The Evernight Goddess, The Lord of Storms, or The God of Steam and Machinery."

She almost certainly already knows this answer, but she's refused it. Information is power, and he wants to know why.

Audrey bows her head again when chided, then turns to her fellow mortal to listen to him. Her face is shadowed to him, but he nevertheless can tell that she does indeed look unsatisfied by this answer, and unsurprised. "But... I don't want to lose my freedom."

That's it?? That is why you entreat the terrifying fog goddess for aid?? You don't want to lose your freedom. Do you have any idea how incredibly lucky you are that She didn't break your mind and snap your soul up for whatever damn thing She pleased?? Do you think you'd have any freedom then, if the goddess you casually contacted wasn't so amiable and permissive??

It's almost laughable, except for how it's too horrifying for words. Some people really do just. Live like this, apparently.

"You can't become an Empyrean without sacrifices. If joining a church is objectionable, you can entreat royalty, or noble families with lineages that stretch hundreds of - preferably a thousand - years." Literally anything else, lady.

Wait, no, no being petulant. But still... "Is there no other way?"

Gods beyond, she's a walking catastrophe waiting to happen, packaged all prettily in her noble guise. If she doesn't get a satisfactory answer here, she'll just keep doing this, bumbling forward into the dark, with hands outstretched, like horrible things do not await her.

This is wrong. She is not fit for this power, not with that petulance and entitlement and naivete. She's going to be one of the ones that goes mad and becomes monstrous. If he does this, he's arming a bomb that will one day become a monster. But she is clearly set on this path regardless of what he says or does, and - he thinks he sees the shape of the challenge this goddess is putting before him.

What would you willingly pay, for what you want? What will you fairly and knowingly risk?

But damn it, he needs to advance, or he's dead. This is the best deal he'll ever get, the best opportunity he'll ever get, and he's lucky it hasn't killed him. So, yes, he'll risk this far away horror for the sake of his own gain.

"... I know two Sequence 9 potion formulas," he says, slowly. Deliberately. "But I won't give them away for free."

"Really? Which potions?"

Oh, of course, because she wants to pick which one sounds nicest to her, doesn't she.

(He tries not to hate her, but he can't really stop himself.)

"They are Voyager, and Spectator," he grinds out. "Voyager belongs to the Lord of Storms, as you likely already know. It grants physical enhancement, of strength and senses especially."

"Voyager, is that the one that used to be called Traveller in the Fourth Epoch?" she confirms, because she can tell when people are underestimating her and sometimes it's useful but right now she actually wants to be taken a bit more seriously, and showing a little bit of knowledge helps. But she'll continue without waiting for a reply: "And the second?"

... Okay, she has done some research.

"Yes, it was. The Spectator offers little in the way of physical or mystical enhancement, but sharpens the mind to an exceptional degree. Improved memory, observational skills, deductive reasoning - that sort of thing."

Oh, that seems—perfect, actually. She doesn't really fight, and becoming an Empyrean who can do what she does best, work from behind the scenes...

"Spectator," she says, savouring the taste of the word, then she nods decisively. "That is the one I want. How can I get this potion's formula? What do you wish to trade it for?"

Honestly, good, that one's probably the safest for her to take.

"100 milliliters of ghost shark blood."

That would be enough, for the next potion in his Sequence. That's all he needs.

She nods. "If I can get it, how do I hand it to you? How can you promise me that you can give the potion’s formula to me in return for the ghost shark blood, as well as the authenticity of the formula?"

"I'll give you an address. When I have the ghost shark blood, I'll either mail you the formula, or if you'd rather..." He glances at the strange power overseeing this trade.

Who is still here, yes. Watching silently.

She inclines her head, when looked at.

"... I believe we would be wise to ask the gracious Ms. Fool to witness our bargain," because that is clearly what this whole thing is about, and She's likely going to witness it no matter what, so he'd better uphold his end of the deal, "and might perhaps entreat Her to summon us here again, if you'd rather a more secure method of formula acquisition."

Because he'd rather use the more secure method, thanks. Sending a Sequence 9 Empyrean formula through the mail sounds like a recipe for disaster.

She nods again, more vigorously. "Yes, that seems reasonable." She turns to The Fool. "Honorable Ms. Fool, would You please permit me to take the liberty of requesting You to be the witness of our trade?"

"I shall, yes."

She straightens in her chair, dropping her air of patient hospitality in favor of imperious authority.

"Do you both agree that your bargain is a trade you mean honestly and fairly? Will you do your utmost to uphold it, to the best of your ability? Do you accept potential penalties should you renege on your side of the deal, at the discretion of the party wronged?"

squeak.

"I agree that I mean this trade honestly and fairly. I will do my utmost to uphold it. I accept potential penalties should I renege on my side of the deal," says Alger, a little hoarsely.

She looks substantially less scared by this than he does. "I do, Milady. I mean this trade honestly and fairly, shall do my utmost to uphold it, and accept potential penalties should I renege on my side of the deal."

The Fool gives a satisfied nod, and relaxes back into her seat. Her voice returns to its usual volume.

"Good. Then you may proceed. I am willing to oversee a second meeting, should you both desire and consent."

"I-I think that would be wisest," agrees Alger, still quite unsettled.

"I do, too. Sending a potion formula over mail could lead to problems." She turns to the man again. "Where should I be trying to send the ghost shark blood to?"

Right, yes, uh. The deal. (That is now being upheld by an eldritch goddess!) That deal. Yes.

He had fortunately already picked a trustworthy place to send it to, so his brain being slightly broken by terror is immaterial.

"Send it to the Warrior & Sea Bar at Pelican Street, in the White Rose Borough of Pritz Harbor. Tell the boss, Williams, that it’s for the 'rat captain.' Keep its contents hidden -" an idea comes to him, since it's a bar, "- actually, pretend it's alcohol. Uh," what kind would nobody touch, "Conantian Black. No one's going to want anything to do with that."

Williams himself is trustworthy, and knows he'll be good for payment, but people are idiots and might try to steal from him anyway. Best if they think it's not worth their time. (Gods beyond, someone drinking ghost shark blood like it's booze...)

She nods. "I'll do my best to get you the material." She turns to The Fool. "Ms. Fool, how should we hold future gatherings?" The Fool had only talked about a 'second' meeting but there was no reason not to imply that she would be open for many more than that.

"I can call you back in the future, at a time of our choosing. How long do you estimate it will take to acquire and send your trade partner his ghost shark blood?"

"I think... less than a week." Wait, don't give out too much. "Uh, if I can do it at all," she quickly amends.

What the fuck? Really??? What kind of power does this woman have?

"Let us err on the side of caution and provisionally set our next meeting for two weeks." Apparently The Fool likes to play things safe, or is possibly unwilling to accept this extremely short estimation.

This next part is addressed at Alger. "Would that be sufficient for you to verify the blood's veracity?"

"Just a, a week would be fine." Get this whole thing over and done with as quick as possible.

"... Very well. In one week, if you'd both prefer."

She sounds vaguely dubious of this timetable, but is amenable.

Audrey nods. "Yes, that would work for me!"

"And then... maybe we could continue to meet up? We aren't as powerful as Milady Fool," says Audrey, dipping her head, "but there might be trivial inconveniences that we could help solve for You, within our abilities?"

She hasn't had the second, and she already wants to make this a regular occurrence?? Gods beyond, but she has high expectations, doesn't she. For his part, Alger doesn't think he'd have a choice in the matter of continuing to be summoned here at Her behest. She said She'd let them leave, She did not say that She wouldn't summon them back at Her choosing. So... at expected and predictable intervals would be better than 'Whenever She feels like it.'

"I, too, would be willing to offer my services to You in the future," he says, because when in doubt, groveling to a goddess is a solid plan.

Plus.... this meeting has already been very rewarding, if all goes as promised, and more after the second could continue to be so. The goddess has been very fair.

"Perhaps," says the goddess, sounding a little amused at Audrey's enthusiasm. "One week from today, after the sun has set, but before the light has left the sky, I will call you both here. I recommend being alone, and somewhere discreet. We will speak then, on the prospect of further meetings. Is this agreeable to you both?"

"Yes."

After the sun has set, but before light has left the sky? So she's definitely not the Evernight Goddess - is she some sort of goddess of in-between? He supposes that makes as much sense as anything else...

"Yes. And so—should we have codenames?" She's under no illusions about her ability to hide her identity from The Fool, she's thought this before, and if they'll keep seeing each other...

"As you like."

"Then, if we continue the tarot theme... I'll be The World." Ambition, completion, success, achieving her goals... Is she too full of herself, for her to adopt this name? But it just felt... right.

Oh, they're sticking to themes now. Well. The Fool hasn't taken issue with the implication that they can have similar names to Her, so...

"I'll be The Hanged Man," says Alger, who is really feeling like he embodies that card right now. Just - hanging upside down, at the mercy of everything and everyone, hoping it's going to all work out anyway.

"Very well. Then is your business for today concluded?"

"I believe so, yes, I don't have anything more to talk about at the moment."

"Yes."

"Then fare well, and until next time."

And their host waves Her hand, and they are returned.

And then Audrey is back in her body. She straightens up from where she's slumped on her desk and finds the mirror shattered on the floor. She reaches down to touch a shard and notices something on the back of her hand. A star-like symbol briefly glows there, before vanishing.

...well, then. That happened.

She'd better get Mr. Hanged Man that ghost shark blood.

She's going to be an Empyrean!!!!

And then Alger is back in his body. The glass in his hands shatters at his return, the swirling ice bursting outwards - he flinches his hand away, and the shards fall into the sea. He checks it for injuries from the broken fucking glass, and only finds the symbol of a pale snowflake-like crystal on his palm, where flesh met artefact. He is unharmed.

The symbol fades, but he thinks it's anything but gone. A deal to uphold, at the absolute minimum.

He shivers a little, and not from the rain.

James, Daly, and the Captain are standing outside Ms. Moretti's apartment. After James's report, the Captain decided that they did in fact need some help from their best field mystic in case things turned sour. Dunn trusts James's gut, sometimes more than James himself does, and something about the whole situation seemed to suggest that they might need the big guns.

Death Pathway, Sequence 7 Spirit Medium
Evernight Goddess's Nightwatch
Daly Simone

Daly is, however, not currently visible. She's insurance, and insurance is best when you don't need to think about it.

The subject of their interest is alone, her emotions pensive, but not erratic.

All right. Dunn gives James a nod to tell him to go ahead. He's ready.

Knock knock!

Elaine startles, but doesn't panic. She stands, and goes to the door without delay, then pauses awkwardly.

"Who is it?" she calls.

"It's the police," James says, softly but not so softly she won't hear.

Well that sure is a sentence that nobody really wants to hear! Elaine isn't unique in being kind of alarmed by the police being at her door.

While there's some fear, there's no terror, there's no rush of feeling cornered. Very importantly, there's very little delay. No rush to hide incriminating evidence, no attempt to tell them they've got the wrong address.

She just goes and opens the door, a perfectly normal human amount of nervous.

Which was what the Captain of Tingen's Nightwatch was waiting for. Technically speaking, he doesn't need line of sight for this, just proximity, but it's much tidier if she opens the door herself.

Saves them the trouble of having to do something like 'kick it down.'

Quietly, from behind his colleague, he draws Ms. Moretti into a Nightmare.

She doesn't notice, and certainly doesn't resist. In the waking world, her eyes drift closed, and she stands there, listlessly.

And elsewhere, her mind is occupied with a false reality.

"Can I help you?" she asks, unaware of what's transpired.

He shows her his badge. "James Orland, Avon County Police, and this is Captain Dunn Smith. May I come in? This concerns two of your classmates."

She inspects the badge, then pauses on inspecting him.

In the waking world, she continues to stand there.

"She's deep enough to move," murmurs Dunn, to James.

"Understood," says James, moving to gently pick her up and walk in to deposit her body on the bed in the front room of the small two-room apartment.

(Zzz.)

He walks in, but pauses when he's asked that, then turns to look at her seriously. "No, I'm afraid not. Mr. McGovern and Ms. Bannister have both passed away."

"...but you knew it was them we meant, didn't you?"

(Damn, is she that obvious?)

Her mental state is being ever so gently leaned on by an outside force.

- so she doesn't hide her wince, and gives a little nod of confirmation.

... Not inclined to run or fight the police. But terrified nonetheless. What did she do?

...gunshot? Ms. Moretti believes she killed them? Interesting.

James is, of course, a better actor than she is, especially in this dreaming state, so the flavour of the surprise he shows is just confusion. "Gunshot? No, suicide. Mr. McGovern slammed his head against a wall repeatedly until he died, and Ms. Bannister drowned herself in a washing basin. But Mr. McGovern's gun did seem to be missing."

And in the meantime, he can start looking through her apartment for... well, anything, really.

From Ms. Moretti's look of horror, that is not better.

... He's not even really leaning on anything right now. She's just naturally cooperating, and volunteered that information without any kind of external pressure. Huh.

"I've stopped directing her mental state," he murmurs, to his team.

Which is to say: this is all her.

The missing gun is where she said it is, wedged cleverly against the edge of the table and a slightly jagged board of the wall.

Most of the books look like research texts, but one of them is blank, and looks like it's some kind of journal. No ominous aura of an artefact, though, just an ordinary book. ... With a bloody handprint, on the side that was turned down.

"Always good when the witness is cooperative."

"Seems strange to fail at it with a weapon like this," he says, after he's fetched the gun and left it on the desk. "How did it fail?" he wonders, as he starts going through the books.

"I don't know. Maybe I asserted control over the - the - whatever it was, at just the right time to make it miss, or something? But I don't remember. I'm sorry." She sounds it. She is it.

"I - I know it seems insane, or like I'm lying, but I don't remember anything that happened yesterday. I don't remember most of what's happened in the past week, actually. I've been going off of my journal, and for the 27th, it's blank." Wince. "Or. Mostly blank. But that entry wasn't very helpful."

Well, that's permission if he's ever seen it, so he founds the appropriate entry on the journal. "'Everyone will die, including me'," he recites. "I think you're very lucky, Ms. Moretti. Usually when we investigate cases like this, everyone is dead."

And usually there is more of a sign of Empyrean influence. Her room is just... entirely devoid of anything his Spirit Sight can pick up. She looks like a completely nonmagical person.

Yeah, nothing here, either.

"Definitely feeling really lucky, with not one but two stalkers when I went to the market today," she says, drily. "Was the other one with you, or just doing his hours being a creep?"

(Snort.)

He smiles. "You noticed? No, he wasn't with us. I was keeping an eye on him, and I don't think he was just being a creep." He turns more serious. "I think it's probably involved with all of this.

"You really don't remember?"

"No. Nothing at all. My journal mentions a mysterious book Welch found from the Fourth Epoch that I was translating, but I don't even remember what it looks like. ... It's what did this, right? Did you burn it? Please tell me you've burned it."

Yeah, unfortunately, that wouldn't help. Good thought, though.

"It's missing. If you don't have it, we don't know where it could be.

"But we might be able to help you recover your memories."

"I don't think I have it? But I - don't see how I would know, either. You have my permission to search the premises for it, just please don't break anything Melissa's tinkering with." Continues to naturally be so cooperative!

Not wrong.

However...

And now James's silent fellow does finally speak:

That one's not any sort of Empyrean granted ability; he's not cheating with Nightmare. He just knows how to read people.

Elaine makes a face.

"... Well, fine, when you put it like that, obviously I've got to. Just - just keep me away from any firearms, walls, or basins, and maybe have a way to scrub the icky book cooties off of my brain."

Still not meddling with her mental state in the slightest, anymore.

James really likes her, actually.

James likes everyone.

Well, they're one to talk.

Snicker.

James is just glad he didn't have to bring up that actually she is still a prime suspect in the deaths. It's good when they're cooperative like that. "We'll do our best. If you could come with us?" he says, gesturing.

Sigh.

Not that there's a way to write a note of 'Hey Melissa, I am being taken into custody by the police, don't wait up,' without it being a little bit alarming, but...

"Technically speaking, we're also representatives of the Evernight Church," offers Dunn. "You're a recent graduate and are job hunting, aren't you? You have my permission to say you received a job offer from the Cathedral of Saint Selena."

They're... with the police... and also the Church of the Evernight Goddess. Does that imply there are other parts of the police that are associated with the other churches? Is there some kind of complicated inter-church police politics going on, silently in the background...?

Sure. She will take that opening and accordingly write a note informing Melissa she ~is looking into a job offer!~

Of course, outside of the little dream construct they snared her in, she is still asleep, and thus incapable of writing any kind of reassuring note.

Daly can generate the note directly on the paper by copying it from what Elaine is writing in the dream.

Thank you Daly, he appreciates you Daly.

And James can move Elaine's unconscious body.

It's such a good thing they're wearing police uniforms. This would look really bad otherwise.

It sure would! With a badge in hand, they can reassure any gawking neighbors that she's quite all right, and not to worry, they're taking her to see someone that can help.

Zzz.

In her mind, though, she will cooperatively go with them. No attempt to run. She's a little concerned about the whole 'bringing back the horrible memories that drove her mad' thing, but she will do it anyway.

She will be gently deposited in the carriage, then.

"We will be going to Mr. McGovern's place and meeting up with the psychic expert there, so that she'll be able to take a good look at you and also the location. We are hoping her divinations will help with the investigation."

"Going there for... source of the problem reasons?" she guesses. "Place where this all happened, to trace it back?"

In the real world, Dunn will of course politely offer Daly a hand to help her into the carriage. She doesn't need it, but she'll appreciates it all the same.

"She really does have a knack for this kind of thinking," he observes, out loud.

Both of his colleagues know him well enough to know that the job offer was absolutely serious, of course, but still. Very quick to catch on to the logic - even guessed at the danger to herself with the memory retrieval, and agreed to it anyway.

"I like her." She's not wasting her spirituality being invisible anymore, but she's not present in what Elaine can see in the dream.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Maybe she'll do so well she'll eventually join the Nightwatch and we'll finally have a Diviner again..."

"Don't you pressure the poor girl, Mr. Orland," she says, poking him with a long-nailed finger.

"I would never! I'm just hoping."

"Please hope only out of her earshot, she deserves the same chance to choose the Pathway she finds most fitting that you were given," chides Dunn. "At this rate, I'm a little concerned you're going to put a 'Diviner wanted' ad in the paper."

"Sir, I'm certain you would also love to have quick and cheap and easy divination on the team again."

"...or as cheap as the price paid by any Empyrean ever is."

"You are as always free to send a request form to the Church of Steam and Machinery for assistance from their Diviner, if you think you need one in your investigations."

"Harrumph."

Ahuh.

You let him work with a Diviner one time, and he starts climbing the walls, desperate to reclaim that high.

The trip is uneventful, and their prospective hire/murder suspect is quiet in both the real world, and the false one she thinks she's in.

Welch McGovern's rented residence in Tingen is a detached house with a garden. There are gas lamps of black metal and glass in a checkered pattern mimicking classical paper lantern lining the sides of the wide road in front of it, and when they arrive the metal gate is ajar, though there is police tape preventing direct access to the house.

When they arrive, Dunn considers her thoughtfully.

"I think we're all right to wake her up."

Nightmare can be used to induce a state of something close to cooperation in an unwilling target, making it easier for Daly to explore their mind and subconscious. In fact, this sort of subterfuge and teamwork is quite standard for them. However, when someone is as genuinely cooperative as Ms. Moretti is, Dunn's efforts are frankly just going to get in Daly's way. And strain Dunn's spirituality, for no real reward.

There's always the chance she could attempt to bolt, and it'd be more expensive to catch her in another Nightmare, but. ... Dunn doesn't think so.

So, his colleagues properly warned: he releases her.

...??

Elaine wakes, blinks, then sits up, confused.

"... When did I fall asleep?" She didn't think she was that tired? Or in fact, tired at all??

"Back at your apartment. My doing, and you have my apologies. We weren't sure how dangerous you were, and caution is the better part of valor."

Wait, he put her to sleep, and all of those interactions were in - some kind of living dream???

That he was just controlling????

Holy shit at least take a girl to dinner before you just -

Nope. Professional. Professional.

"Then... why am I awake?" she asks, reasonably.

(James caught that expression, don't think he didn't, young lady.)

(He, like, agrees. For what it's worth.)

(Life will be so great when he advances to Sequence 7~)

Laughter.

"Because you've been such a good girl that we decided we don't need to control your perceptions anymore," says a woman who was not in the dream. "This is easier with your cooperation, and easier without Captain Smith's powers interacting with mine.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Daly Simone, Nightwatch of the Evernight Goddess."

Did you have to use the phrase 'good girl,' really? Did you actually have to??

Yes, she did.

Don't worry, you're not her only target for her teasing, for whatever that's worth.

(Or even her primary target.)

Dunn similarly doffs his cap and reintroduces himself. "And I should also introduce myself properly. Still Dunn Smith, but Nightwatch Captain of the Evernight Goddess."

"James Orland, Nightwatch of the Evernight Goddess." He takes his hat off and bows, arm across his chest, before straightening back up and putting his hat back on.

"Pleasure to meet you all properly," replies Elaine, with a little curtsy. "... It feels silly to tell you my name, since you obviously already know it, but. Thank you for keeping me from being a potential danger to the general populace."