Desdemona's shadow was back at her heels, innocent as though it had never moved of its own volition at all. Desdemona gasped for breath, steadying herself on the long table she stood by - but when she spotted Adelar, she made an "oh!" of dismay, and wobbled unsteadily closer to him and the decapus.
Showing nowhere as much fear of the hideous dead thing as she had of her own shadow, she knelt and aided Laura, her look of abject terror transformed to one of polite concern.
At least, she attempted to aid Laura, but her obvious unfamiliarity with the healing arts resulted in her mostly just fumbling about the rough bandages Laura had already tied, and patting Adelar's cheeks in an attempt to revive him.
FINALLY able to see past the illusions, Xander rushes to the fallen man.
He mutters a few mystic words that create a brief pulse of healing energy. "I think he'll be okay now, though he's gonna need some serious rest." Given the extent of his injuries, he also reads out one of the scrolls.
Out of the corner of his eye, he takes in details on the decapus. Hmm, I might need to make a study of its anatomy. Might make for an interesting paper.
Miniel dashes over and tries again to power up her healing magic, but her reserves are still empty. "We should get back to the chapel; they'll be able to help more there, and I'm sure they'll be glad to see more survivors. And the adminis...oneirogen...we should deal with that too."
"If she wakes back up and starts spewing smoke, I'll just punch her again." John suggests when Miniel brings up the former administrator.
"We're going to have to make a choice one way or another eventually. We can't carry it unconscious around with us forever." Miniel takes a deep breath. "In that state, it's no better than an undead. We should put the administrator out of her misery."
Broom looks at Laura a moment longer before her eyes open wide and her cheeks become an odd shade of grey.
"Oh! Right" she says abashedly, "We aren't speaking with our minds any more. We were wondering why nobody was listening to Us."
"We liked speaking with Our mind, We need to do it more often" she muttered to herself, thinking back to the little block of incense she still had left.
Turning her attention back to the matter at hand she cleared her throat "Ahem. Is he going to be ok? Can you help him Xander?" she asked moments before he invoked his healing magic. Broom watched intently as he did so "Maybe if We watch enough, We can learn how to fix people"
With Adelar out of immediate danger her attention once again shifted. "Would it be OK if we cleaned that off of you?" she asked Laura, motioning to the foul smelling ichor.
"Could we at least take her to Winter first? Maybe she can help fix this. Lets at least give it a try, we can kill her later if we have to." Broom added when the matter of the Administrator came up. [b]"We agree with getting back to the chapel. Everyone is hurt and tired and We need some rest as well."[.b]
Adelar came to with a gasp, reaching out and clutching at Xander. His eyes were wild, as if still within the throes of mortal combat. It took a few, heavy breaths for him to realize that the danger, for the most part, was gone. Slowly did his grip slip from the half-orc, but not before clasping his hands on both of his shoulders.
" Merci, my friend," he managed to get out: his ribs were still horribly sore, his body feeling like it had been subject to a cruel vise.
Adelar frowned - something was off. He patted down his body, looking all around him.
" My ... my blade," he asked, concern creeping up through his tongue, " Where is my sword?"
Reine had come to stand over the others as they worked on Adelar. She gave Desdemona's shadow an odd look. A look of almost... acknowledgement?... crossed her features.
But then she met Des's eyes, and gave the small woman a different look. One that gave no hint of the glance at the shadow. Instead, Reine forced an almost-smile.
"It didn't kill us," was the most encouraging thing she could think to say, apparently. The anger that such a creature could even exist, and that it had dared to attack the party, simmered just below the surface of Reine's every movement.
Which may have had something to do with the lack of encouragement her words engendered.
Xander gives Adelar a nod as he helps him to his feet. "Steady, now. I think your sword may have fell back there," he says pointing back to the administrator's office. "Yes, I think we could all do with some time to recuperate, and plan. I'd also like to finish going through some of these books. There may yet be something of use."
He wanders over to the body of the decapus and pokes at it a bit with his dagger, pushing aside tentacles, and even making a few incisions to look at tissue layers. He makes a few mental notes and then nods to himself in satisfaction. "Let's gather whatever we want to and head back. If there's anyway to help the poor doctor here, we'll need Winter's help."
I doubt there's anything to be done, but it won't hurt to ask. Such a shame.
Laura shrugs, allowing Mashiki to clean her if she wishes. She doesn't seem very concerned with her physical appearance. "Get back my axe," she adds, gesturing back towards the hallway.
With both Adelar and Larura asking for their weapons back, Broom eagerly heads back and collects the two weapons. As she returns to the group she quietly casts her cleaning spell making sure that both weapons are spotless when they are given back.
She then happily sets about cleaning off Laura, a content smile on her face despite the gruesome scene nearby and the recent danger.
Desdemona shrank back slightly when Reine turned to her, but when the other woman met her eyes and spoke, she seemed momentarily nonplussed. Carefully rising, she nodded, never taking her eyes off Reine.
"I should certainly hope not," she ventured, the uncertainty in her voice twisting the meaning of her words ever so slightly - were they alive? Was this some hell? She regarded the corpse of the decapus with interest, then turned her gray gaze on the administrator.
"Let's take this woman back to the chapel with us. Surely someone there can help." What anyone could do to help, she didn't say. Not quite meeting anyone else's eyes, she picked up her lantern and followed the group. Her shadow stayed behind her obediently, mirroring her motions once more.
As they walked, she glanced sidelong at Broom. "That... that black matter you flung at the thing. The decapus. Is it... have you been able to do so for long?"
We are everywhere, the darkness giggled in her mind.
She shuddered, trying to pay attention to Broom's answer.
John will sling the unconscious administrator over his shoulder to carry her back to the chapel.
"Let's head back. I'll carry the lady. Maybe the priestess can fix her and get us some more answers about what's going on."
"I could use some dinner and some time free of talking rats and tentacle monsters."
Adelar accepted his holy weapon from Broom with his most chivalrous thanks and sincerity, almost cradling the sword once it was back in his possession. But it was not an act of protection or fondness, no.
It was an expression of desperation. Of Fear.
Why, he wondered, his eyes piercing into the nothingness as they refused to focus on any one thing, Why did I fail so? Why did The Inheritor not protect me? Where was the magic of Her Majesty, where was the skill and strength of the warrior that slew Ten of The Abyss?
He was rattled, more than he could ever recall being, but his mind was so frayed that it still resolved itself as the worst moment he could remember. Death would surely have been nobler than such shame, and his cowardice clung to life like a mewling babe, hungry for uselessness and mediocrity rather than righteous oblivion. To not even draw a single cut upon the creature, to have been so utterly powerless against the End ...
" Rest, yes," he choked out, his lungs still burning from how they had been compressed, " Rest. And solace."
Solace from the nightmare of failure.
Collecting himself, Adelar moved to join the others, carefully sheathing his unbloodied blade.
Reine didn't seem moved to carry anything other than what she was carrying already, though if anyone had asked, she would have - within reason.
Instead, she readied her bow and moved to keep watch at the doors while everyone else loaded up. When they were ready to move out, she took the point, eyes searching for danger.
Broom takes on a mock seriousness as she answered Desdemona's question "We have been able to do that for as long as We can remember" She states matter of factly before breaking out into an impish grin moments later "Which is about ummm... three? Four days now? Its kind of hard keeping track of how long its been since We woke up."
She leans in closer, her proximity causing the hairs on Des' arm to raise, as she whispers "We think that it might be bits of us! We aren't sure though. See?"
She rolled up her sleeve a little to show the dark grey lines where a normal person would have blue veins. Ever so slowly, the grey veins writhed beneath her skin.
Broom excitedly peered at Des. Whether or not it was wise to do so, she naively believed that with all the strange things everyone had seen, she would be able to talk about herself without risking a poor reaction.
This close it was now easy to see that her eyes were also different. Instead of red vessels at the corners of her green eyes there were thin black lines that also seemed to slowly wriggle of their own accord.
"We speak the strange words, and these little beads form. We think they are Us but We don't burn stuff when We bleed so We aren't certain." She speaks a few words and the little beads of viscous liquid form on her fingertips. Black with a purple tint, they smell faintly of vinegar. Moments after conjuring them Broom seems to suddenly realize that she needs to do something with them. She looks around frantically for a moment before flicking the liquid at a stone wall. The caustic substance isn't strong enough to damage the masonry, but it does slightly discolour the surface.
Broom puts her hands up to her mouth in concern "Oh! We didn't mean to do that. We can fix that, but We don't want to hold everyone up. Don't tell the doctor if she wakes up, We will come back later to repair it."
She is quiet for a few moments as if ashamed about what she just did, but her thoughts quickly slip onto another topic. "How do you make your shadow move? We have been trying to change our body like the dopplegangers did, and We think with enough practice We can do that, but We didn't even consider the possibility of making our shadow move".
Her shadow moved? Xander thought it was a trick of the light. It's fascinating how the mind will work to rationalize strange occurrences, even in the midst of the profoundly bizarre. I suppose it's some sort of defense mechanism. Probably to try to prevent insanity from trying to wrestle with too many things beyond mortal ken. Still he would need to pay closer attention. And figure out some way to see through illusions better. That was damn frustrating! And I almost completely missed the decapus in action. Such a shame.
Wait, did her veins move?
Desdemona did not react badly to the demonstration of Broom's vinegary exuding, nor her wriggling gray veins. She was so visibly relieved that she smiled, putting a hand on Broom's shoulder to support herself as she sagged, closing her eyes. "Oh thank goodness," she sighed.
But when Broom brought up her shadow, she jerked away. "Shh!" she pleaded, in the vain hope that the darkness might not hear them.
Then she walked a few steps in contemplative silence, her eyes darting to the darkness at the limits of the light they carried, creeping ahead, following behind.
"Please, you mustn't let it know you saw it," she finally whispered to Broom, watching everyone else to make sure they weren't listening. "It's dangerous. Oh, I'm afraid I can't explain... it's been with me since I woke, as well. Maybe longer, who knows? It won't tell me!" She took a breath, lowering her voice again from its fevered louder whisper.
"I don't control it," she finished miserably. "It's alive. Alive, and all around us, all the time! In my head when I close my eyes! It knows things." She laughed despairingly, a soft giggle that sounded quite unbalanced.
Then, quick as a cat, she grabbed Broom's hand. "Please, don't speak of it near the dark!" she pleaded. Releasing Broom, she raised her lantern high and strode more quickly, leaving the poor woman behind.
Approaching Adelar, she smiled brightly, her tone light as she asked, "You are Adelar, isn't that right? Terrible business with that decapus, but I'm glad you're all right. If you don't mind me asking, sir, how did you come to be... here?" Her interest seemed both polite and earnest.
Adelar appeared to jump when Desdemona first approached him, but his hackles soothed quickly enough. His realizations were causing swirling doubts to assail his mind, and that alone had left him frighteningly on edge: nowhere near the composed and stoic warrior he remembered being.
Still, he managed a smile in reply, unsure how the woman was managing to remain cheerful in the circumstances. Braver than he?
" Yes, yes my name is Adelar," he confirmed for her, his brows furrowing in concentration, " And you are ... Des. Des, yes."
With the idea of thoughts not his own still fluttering through his mind, Adelar could not quite recall if she had told him, or had it flitted through his brain like an errant wind? Had he always known it?
Did he know her?
" I thank you for your concern, but yes, I'll live. I've faced worse, after all," he laughed with a confidence he did not feel.
You were a Knight. You served in Mendev.
" I was a Knight, you see. I served in Mendev."
You're blessed by Iomedae. You can protect them.
" I serve Iomedae. I can look out for you."
He rubbed the back of his neck with unease.
" The creature just ... took me by surprise is all."
He intentionally danced around how he had come to the Asylum because quite honestly, he didn't know. However, it did not pay to be untrustworthy. Lying had never gotten anyone anywhere, after all.
" I ... Am unsure how I came from the North to ... well, here." Adelar admitted, " I just remember ... Flight. Fleeing and ... and Death. A dream?"
He looked over towards Desdemona as they walked, studying her face.
Had he seen her before. Was she in the dream? Or was this the dream ...?
" I ... Something terrible happened, I know that for sure, but I can't quite make what it ... was. Next I know, I am running. And you are there."
He glanced over his shoulder to the other he had met earlier, Reine.
" And you too ... yes? Yes. Yes, all three of us. And ... and the others. The ones who didn't make it."
The one who died so they lived. Was that not Adelar's place? Was that not the vows he had sworn to uphold?
Was that why The Inheritor did not speak to him ..?
" It was as if running in a nightmare only to suddenly be acutely aware that my footfalls were real and my breath truthfully labored. If I did not know better, I would say I traveled through my very dreams to this ... place."
Adelar felt his hand curling tightly around the hilt of his blade: the only thing that felt sturdy in his current predicament.
" What of you?" he asked, also tilting to look at Reine, " The two of you were together when we met, yes? Did you arrive here together?"
" Yes, yes my name is Adelar," he confirmed for her, his brows furrowing in concentration, " And you are ... Des. Des, yes."
"Desdemona," she corrected, with a tiny moue of dislike for the diminutive.
" I thank you for your concern, but yes, I'll live. I've faced worse, after all," he laughed with a confidence he did not feel.
You were a Knight. You served in Mendev.
" I was a Knight, you see. I served in Mendev."
You're blessed by Iomedae. You can protect them.
" I serve Iomedae. I can look out for you."
He rubbed the back of his neck with unease.
" The creature just ... took me by surprise is all."
"I think it took us all by surprise," Desdemona said, wincing at having been taken in by its horrific illusion. "I... we knew that tiefling. Bisartis. The one the decapus... showed us. I never thought that he was anything but real. I didn't think at all. It seems we all have lessons to learn, in this place."
" I ... Am unsure how I came from the North to ... well, here." Adelar admitted, " I just remember ... Flight. Fleeing and ... and Death. A dream?"
He looked over towards Desdemona as they walked, studying her face.
Had he seen her before. Was she in the dream? Or was this the dream ...?
" I ... Something terrible happened, I know that for sure, but I can't quite make what it ... was. Next I know, I am running. And you are there."
He glanced over his shoulder to the other he had met earlier, Reine.
" And you too ... yes? Yes. Yes, all three of us. And ... and the others. The ones who didn't make it."
The one who died so they lived. Was that not Adelar's place? Was that not the vows he had sworn to uphold?
Was that why The Inheritor did not speak to him ..?
" It was as if running in a nightmare only to suddenly be acutely aware that my footfalls were real and my breath truthfully labored. If I did not know better, I would say I traveled through my very dreams to this ... place."
Adelar felt his hand curling tightly around the hilt of his blade: the only thing that felt sturdy in his current predicament.
" What of you?" he asked, also tilting to look at Reine, " The two of you were together when we met, yes? Did you arrive here together?"
"I... I don't know..." Desdemona took a steadying breath, and tried again. "I woke here, in a cell. With the others we ran with. The orderly... Linweigh. He was..." She shivered and looked away. "It doesn't bear thinking of. But he's fine now, and we're..." She trailed off. Obviously, they weren't all fine. Some of them were dead. Most of them.
"I don't know if Reine and I arrived together. I remember nothing, before waking in that cell. I only know that without her, we might not have made it this far. She's..." Desdemona lowered her voice. "She's very intense. There's something about..." She shook her head, dismissing the thought.
Looking around, she spotted Xander nearby. "You don't know any of these people? What of you, sir? What do you make of our current predicament?" she asked Adelar and Xander.
"We thought we were the only amnesiacs here. The presence of others, and of our shared memory of slavery... this is quite astonishing. I wonder if we've all experienced some sort of group trauma, though I would suspect a more magical explanation since we've all been affected."
Reine snorted, but didn't seem inclined to offer much in the way of explanation.
"The Tatterman," She said, eventually, "him, and whatever or whoever is behind this. However they're behind it - they'll pay."
And that about seemed to sum up Reine's thoughts on the matter.
Once they have returned back to the safe area, Laura listens carefully to what everyone says about where they have been. Having heard about dopplegangers in the asylum, she is still a bit nervous accepting new people too quickly, though she does express nonverbal gratitude to those who fought the decapus beside her.
When she can drink some water and has recovered her strength, and has a few moments to herself, she draws forth the tiny creature living inside of her and examines it. It is a crablike beast with eight legs, two pincers, and a human head that vaguely resembles Laura, especially in the eyes and skintone. Like a toddler cradling a doll, she cups her child against her chest and quietly sings to it.
John watches Laura from across the room as she talks to her crab-baby with widen eyes.
"Weirder and weirder..." he whispers to himself.
The group carries Administrator Losandro back to the chapel, wary of further attacks. But the asylum's foyer is mercifully quiet, and opening the door to the chapel section is like stepping into another, less insane, world. A man sits on a chair near the door, leaning back against the wall and looking relaxed. He's in the padded armor worn by orderlies and adopted by the refuge's small guard contingent and an unloaded heavy crossbow is within arm's reach on the floor. He certainly doesn't seem ready to fend off an attack if it was to come through the door the group just came through.
He looks over and nods, unconcerned until he sees that the group is carrying a body. The front legs of the chair clack down hard and he stands up. "Hey. We're not bringing corpses in here." The guard almost whispers the word 'corpses,' and it's easy to figure out why.
No more than 15 away, two children- a dark haired boy and a yellow haired girl are launching paper birds down the hallway toward the barricade everyone knows is just around the corner. The girl throws hers and it sails out of sight, drawing laughter from her, her playmate, and the tall, good looking young man kneeling down on the ground next to a stack of purloined paper. The laughter seems somehow right in here, where the constant gloom and feeling of being watched is gone.
It is a strange feeling for Des and Reine. They remember this place, but the details were different. There had been no laughing or playing when they remembered leaving. Their clothes are clean, as if freshly washed. The debris is picked up or stacked for later use. The entire atmosphere is different- less desperate, less... dire. The chapel survivors they had left had been barely hanging on. These survivors are, if not thriving, not on the brink of death.
Xander waves the "guard" away. "Clearly she isn't dead. She's unconscious. Why would we bring back bodies devoid of life?" He internally answers his own question thinking of all the very good reasons why they COULD bring back corpses. But that's neither here nor there. "Let's get her to the cleric as quickly as possible. I'm not interested in her waking up until we have some potential answers on her condition." As they turn to go, he notices the children playing. "Don't allow that child to chase after that toy on her own, young man. It's best if we all stay in groups." With that, they seek out the healer.
As they take their rest, he looks on at the appearance of the 'baby' creature that their new companion draws out. Finding it both disgusting and fascinating, he can't help but speculate on how such an odd creature might be created, but he keeps his mouth shut for the moment. Honestly, I'm almost too tired to care. Still best to keep an eye on all unusual occurrences for the foreseeable future.
After ensuring the safety of her "child," Laura places it back on her belly, and her body slowly absorbs it back inside of her. There there, little one, be safe, Mother will protect you, she thinks. Seemingly oblivious to the others' reactions, she brushes herself off and rejoins the rest of the group as they go to see the cleric. She still bears some nasty-looking injuries from her fight with the decapus, but she seems to be reluctant to complain of them. Stoicism is her wont, it appears.
Desdemona had drifted about the chapel in a dreamlike fugue, looking at the familiar-yet-not setting and people with distracted interest. Her hand dipped into her pocket, seeking the toy she had gathered up for the boy whose brother was gone, even as she looked about for the child.
When Laura brought out her crab-baby, she was... interested, rather than repulsed. Thinking it impolite to question Laura about it, at least immediately, instead of going over to her, Desdemona settled in a spot where she could watch her obliquely, while ostensibly fiddling with her lantern.
When the cleric arrived to see to the administrator and the wounded, she went to join them, curious about this seemingly more settled group.
Winter is easy to find, in the chapel where her blessings could best be put to use. With her abilities, the worst of the injuries suffered by the survivors had been healed and she is just now finishing up with a young boy who had borne deep wounds when the group left the safety of the chapel refuge.
She stands as she sees the exploratory group come in, saying a few last words to the boy and his minder, and meets the party a few steps away from her patient. The dark haired, sober woman looks at Adelar, Desdemona, and Reine without any sense of recognition in her expression. She does, though, immediately recognize the unconscious woman the group is carrying.
"Is that Administrator Losandro? What happened to her?" Winter's tone is hushed, so as not to alarm anyone, but she indicates with small gestures of her hands that the group should head back out of the chapel.
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"Most recently, I cold-cocked her and knocked her out." John tells Winter when she asks about the administrator.
"Before that, she was up to something weird and magicky that left her in a trance, vomiting smoke and unresponsive."
"I hoped that there was some connection between her weirdness and the general weirdness around here, but even though knocking her out seemed to stop her weirdness, we're obviously still stuck with the general weirdness."
Safety back at the chapel, Broom sets about tidying the place up. Even though it has only been a couple of hours, she still seems to find things to straighten out.
She watches with excitement and fascination as Laura tends to her new baby.
With a couple of odd words, her cleaning cloth flies up to the rafters as she happily begins cleaning all those areas that were previously out of her reach.
As dinner nears, she dutifully sets about preparing a meal for the refugees. With the scant supplies remaining, she does what she can to stretch the rations out.
As she prepares the meal and takes stock of the supplies she quietly asks Xander "Do you think that tentacle beast is edible?"
Reine wasn't sure what she'd expected, but when Winter showed no signs of recognizing her, Desdemona, or Adelar, Reine decided that she wasn't surprised. After all, she didn't really recognize Winter, either. The form was the same, but this woman was not the haggard, quietly desperate woman who had been stretched to the brink trying to scrape by with more needs than resources. No. Reine wasn't yet sure who this woman was, but she seemed competent, at least. Unlike the guard they'd walked past.
Reine followed the group as they followed Winter out of the chapel. She nodded at John's succinct summary of the Administrator's condition, and felt no need to add more.
Not yet.
Following John's comments, Xander does his best to describe what has become of Losandro. "So, you see, we are not even sure if there's anything of her actually left, or if this is simply a shell of her mortal remains animated by dark forces. We thought perhaps you might be capable of advising us. Do we struggle for some cure, or do we put the poor creature out of its misery?"
Later, Xander considers Broom's question for a moment. "Well, octopi are edible, if not terribly flavorful. I suppose there's no specific reason why decapi wouldn't be edible as well. Though I'm not sure I have the desire to test that hypothesis myself."
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Broom had no idea what a hypothesis or an octopi was. She looked off over Xander's shoulder, her eyes going unfocused for a moment as she cast her mind out into the void to see what she could find out about octopies.
As always, her mind brushed the minds of things utterly alien. At first she found the thoughts that gave her a picture of a thing that resembled the decapi (she thought it had been called a decapus, but maybe she was wrong).
A bulbous creature with strange eyes and tentacles hanging down. At first it appeared that was all the creature was, but as she searched for more information on it, she discovered from other minds that the octopi also had a squat body, clawed limbs and with leathery wings even. The minds that held this information were apparently in fear and awe of the octopi, at least the ones that still appeared sane.
The further she pursued these thoughts, more confused she became. The octopi apparently even had a name in the strange language of aklo. How could anyone eat such a thing?
The closer she got to understanding more about The Octopi, the harder it was to find a mind that was not shattered by gazing upon it. Finally the onslaught of madness caused her to instinctively pull back.
She blinked her eyes as she returned to her senses with the words "Ia, Ia" whispered harshly on her lips. After a moment of composing herself she smiled "Thank you Xander" she said, the bright words at odds with her trembling.
With what she considered to be Xander agreeing that the beast was indeed edible she began to consider how she would go about cleaning and butchering the strange thing.
Winter shakes her head at Xander. "I'm afraid I only barely remember the concept. But from what I've read, oneirogens are portals to another plane in the shell of a person. There's nothing left. But I'd never heard The Chain of Nights had a way to turn someone into one. Maybe if it has a way to do that, it has a way to reverse it as well."
She looks up the wide hallway past the palisade. The entire hallway to the north has been lit with makeshift torches and there is only one guard manning the barrier. While they spoke, the children are still flying paper birds up the hallway. None quite reached the palisade, but they are getting close, and their laughter even threatened to turn Winter's expression into something approaching a smile.
"If you want to keep her here, alive, I'd prefer she be kept away from the others. I think I can keep her asleep but I'd hate to imagine what would happen if she woke up." Winter gestures toward one of the storerooms on the far side of the fortification. "We can make her a bed in the closet up there. It's safe enough since you cleared out the monsters."
"If she wakes up, you might have to knock her out again."
"At least it didn't put up much resistance the first time. Hopefully it stays that way." Miniel is still uneasy at the former administrator being kept alive, but she doesn't argue.
Winter shakes her head. "I'll leave it to you. I'm not arguing either way. You brought her here. If you think you can find a cure, I'm willing to help give you the time. With the Lady's blessing I can probably keep her asleep, barring any sort of emergency." She looks at Ambassador Losandro's peaceful, sleeping face, her own expression impassive.
"But if you think it's too dangerous to keep her here, I will say the proper prayers and send her on her way to her final judgment. The decision is yours." The priestess looks around at the explorers, looking each one in the eye. "What do you think? Does the chance of saving her outweigh the risk of keeping her here? There are many lives to consider, not just hers, or mine, or yours."
"If you can keep her safely away," Reine said, perhaps surprisingly, "and it's not going to risk harm to the rest, then that's probably the right call."
"She didn't do anything other than spew purple mist, and that didn't seem to do anything either. She didn't stop Cage.... ummmm John, from knocking her out so We don't think there is much danger."
"The book...maybe. I still think it's best we put the administrator's body to its final rest, but if there could be a cure..." Miniel trails off, quickly glancing back towards the way they came.
**A dream**
He barely noticed when it started, but the yellow mist somehow seeped into the windows of the convalescence rooms, tinting everything that weird, sickly yellow-green. His memory was weirdly fluid, like he'd forgotten what exactly he had been doing. But he knew this- the Tatterman had come back.
The yellow horror had appeared and scattered Rostam's companions. He stood and tried to make a stand, yelling for them to run. Halo flaring, sword raised, Rostam was sure the power of the gods suffused his every swipe, every strike.
But the Tatterman slipped first one blow, then the next, like a snake, coming closer, and closer, and ever closer, letting the holy warrior vent all his anger and frustration and fear in his blows. The monster never even tried to strike back. But then, for the second time, Rostam felt the cut across his neck, the blood flowing down his chest, the suffocating, choking darkness.
And then he woke up.
Rostam opens his eyes, reflexively clutching for his spear and other weapons. He touches his neck, wonderingly. No blood. Then, suddenly concerned, he feels for his amulet. The strange, greyish shape is at once disconcerting and familiar, as if it has always belonged to him, but is from another place entirely.
He peers at his surroundings, blinking away the remnants of some imagined(?) off-green, horrid-yellow haze.
Rostam knows where he is. It's the chapel, where the refugees sleep. He remembers everything, from "Doctor Scaen" in the boiler room to the ratlings in the library. But... how did he get here? He doesn't know. What happened to Bisartis, Desdemona, Linweigh, Reine, and the xeph? He doesn't know. All he knows is that one moment he was out in the hospital, then he was dreaming, then he woke up.
Rostam nods to himself and obeys the strange blue suggestion that appears in his mind. He exits the chapel. Are there people in the chapel? He was crossing a courtyard and then...yellow mist. No, there was mist in the courtyard. Where is he?
Rostam passed the other sleepers and their minders in a haze, walking out into the hallway. There, he sees people he knows- Desdemona and Reine most of all, but also Winter Klazca- standing around, talking quietly.