Lost and Found

[Twylith]

[ Closed to: Chucklecut and Ataraxis ]

Brielle had watched plenty of movies, read enough books to experience the millions of ways characters wake from being passed out. It was nothing like the authors described, or movies illustrated. There was no image of herself deep in the water, struggling to swim for the surface. There was no cloudy haze to walk through, no brick wall to break down. She wasn't awake, and then she was. That was it.

One thing there was, and there was a lot of it: Light. She squinted, rolled over, and groaned at the pain that shot through her body. Reaching her hands up she rubbed her eyes. The more she moved, the more she realized she wasn't in her own bed. There was no roof over her head, thus the intense sunshine beating down on her face. There was no bed under her, thus the rocks digging into her tender skin. The one thing she couldn't understand, was why.

The whys echoed through her head. Why am I not in bed. Why am I outside. Why do I hurt so badly. Why, why why...

Time for answers.

Brielle sat up, and immediately regretted it. Pain flared in her abdomen. It reminded her vaguely of the one car accident she'd been in. She hadn't felt much pain the day of the accident, too much adrenaline had been coursing through her. The next morning, however, when she'd woken up devoid of yesterday's dose of liquid fear, all that was left was pain. Every muscle, as it did then, now ached. Like she'd worked out every single muscle of her body at once.

Instead of risking more pain with getting up, she decided to take in her surroundings. Under her, was some overgrown grass. Above her, a cloudless sky. That seemed odd, but she wasn't sure why. Next to her was the biggest mystery. A Des Moines ambulance sat, tipped on it's side next to her. She gasped, and stood up, trying to ignore the pain that flared. Brielle walked on unsteady legs around the side of the ambulance.

"Hello?" she called. Nothing answered but the wind that rustled the tall grasses around the clearing in which she stood. Using the ambulance to steady herself, she walked toward the back doors, and cringed away immediately.

She knew the smell from hunting with her dad when she was little. She didn't need to look in the back of the rig to know that something was dead there. The metallic smell of blood mixed with the sweet smell of rotting flesh was enough. Her body was tortured as it was, she wouldn't do it more harm by inducing vomiting at the sight of dead bodies.

Brielle did the one thing she'd been taught to do since she could hold a phone in her hands. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed 911, then held the phone to her ear. Nothing happened. Not even the light fuzz of a connection trying to be made. Just silence. Brielle pulled the phone away from her ear and studied it. No signal. Figures.

She wandered around in that tell-tale "no service" pose, holding her phone out in front of her body, staring at the screen. Everywhere she walked was the same. No signal.

"Houston, we have a problem," she muttered. She stuffed the useless lump of technology back in her pocket, and looked around again. She hadn't even noticed the lack of roads the first time around, but now it baffled her. Why was the ambulance in the middle of a field? Was it coming to save her? But how did it tip over? And again, why was she even here?

Brielle did the same thing that any 17 year old girl would do when lost and sitting next to dead bodies with no memory of how she got there. She sat down on the ground, and she cried.

[Ataraxis]

Lillian was not far when the winds picked up and the sky turned stormy. The canvas of unbroken blue was now dark and dirty, and where the wisps of dead thunderclouds whirled and gathered, she saw that an enormous vortex had opened up. The crackling sparks in its womb were like sheet lightning, and the girl of sixteen had the instinct to move away from the broken remains of an ancient pillar she had come to study; when she had tiptoed far enough down the meadow’s slope, Lillian quickly hunkered down, heels touching and hands on her ears.

The bolt was like nothing she had ever seen. Not a single fork in that giant fracture of luminous blue, only a great, glowing scar across the heavens that struck the ground. She saw no fire, felt no quake run through her bones, and there had been no clap of thunder. The silent lightning was gone, and with it, so had the tempestuous vortex overhead. No trace of the disturbance remained in the returning blue skies, and she wondered if this had been nothing more than a hallucination: taking paper tracings of ancient glyphs was tedious work, after all, and her rich mind did have a tendency to wander.

When she realized the futility of questioning her own sanity, Lillian decided to investigate the stricken site and see for herself – that, and her curiosity was clearly on the rise. After picking up her knapsack, a chunk of graphite and the various metal tools she had dropped at the first sight of lightning, Lillian hared up the rising pasture, wading through waist-high tall grass until she came upon a level clearing of dry earth and pebbles. There, amidst the caws and flutters of crows, she stumbled on something she had never seen before.

It seemed to be a vehicle of some kind, what with its four thick rings of some grooved type of rubber that resembled wheels. It was cap-sized, chinks of broken glass littered the ground where it lay, and its red-and-white metal chassis was so torn it reminded her of a gutted animal. Ravens were perched atop the wreckage, their caws sending a chill down on her spine; in an attempt to ignore them, she sidled the vehicle to continue her inspection. On what she believed was the front, she could make out the most unusual script of Common.

“Dé-mo-ahn? Dessmoyne?” she read tentatively, head tilted in perplexity. “That doesn’t sound right. And what’s an… ambulance?” That was when the stench of onset decay struck her, and she winced, now understanding the presence of crows: something inside it was rotting, and she had no intention of verifying whether it was man or beast.

A rustle from the grass had her reaching for her dirk. Lillian approached the source, twirling the blade in preparation for a throw should some predator pounce from the swaying grasses. Rather than the snarl of a puma, however, she heard the whimpers of a teenage girl. Without a second thought, she put her weapon away, and called out to the figure with curly red hair sitting amidst the tall growths.

Lillian had already registered her outlandish clothing, but that was a thought she pushed back in the deepest recesses of her mind: fashion was hardly the greatest matter of importance right now. “Are you injured? I saw a bolt of lightning strike here just a minute ago!”

[Twylith]

"L-lightning?" Brielle looked up, and had to choke down a gasp. The woman looked like something out of a fairy-tale. She was short, probably no taller than Brielle herself, though she couldn't gauge from her position. The girl wore a knee-length white dress, falling off her emaciated shoulders. Deep ebony hair framed her pale face, and the brightest blue eyes Brielle had ever seen, looked at her with concern.

Feeling suddenly embarrassed, Brielle wiped her eyes, and stood. She sniffled a little bit, and tried to regain her composure. Standing, Brielle was eye-level with the newcomer. She looked around nervously, wondering how she hadn't heard the girl's approach. Probably because you were crying like a little baby, she thought to herself.

"I didn't hear any lightning," Brielle said. She crossed her arms under her chest. Brielle felt huge standing next to the thin woman. Teenage confidence, or lack-thereof crept into her. She shuffled nervously.

"Look, I'm not sure if you noticed," she began. "But there are dead people in that ambulance and I can't get a cell signal. Could you call someone? I don't have the slightest clue where I am or how I got here. I just wanna go home."

[Ataraxis]

“I-I’m sorry, a what now?” Lillian wondered whether the girl was still in shock, but she had the wisdom to take a step back and reassess the situation. She was disoriented, yes, but the doe-eyed girl otherwise kept her wits about her: the odds of some illicit substance running through her veins seemed sufficiently low. From the way she had spoken, she clearly viewed this ‘ambulance’ as nothing too noteworthy, perhaps even run-of-the-mill besides its wrecked state and rotting contents. That, teamed with her outlandish clothes, her foreign manner of speech, her vastly unusual jargon, that strange bolt of lightning, and the painfully apparent fact that she was utterly lost…

“I think… I’m sorry to say, but from what I can gather, this place might be a bit farther from your home than you’d initially thought.” The stranger made no movement, giving her a stare of futility that made her heart cringe in sympathy. After a moment, her words had sunk in and the girl began tearing up again, pulling a shaking hand over her mouth in terrible realization. “B-But listen,” she continued, her tone more comforting this time. The girl did not seem to hear her; her composure was lost, and she teetered on the brink of despair. “Hey, hey, listen to me,” Lillian said, meeting her vacant gaze with unyielding confidence. “I’ve heard this has happened before. People waking up in strange lands, recognizing nothing, not even the stars. I-It’s almost commonplace, here.”

In truth, most accounts of such events, she read in books of fiction, but once or twice before she had met such wanderers of worlds in the flesh. The tales of their arrival on Althanas had always been preceded either by a bizarrely-named engine’s malfunction or some extraordinary meteorological phenomenon, much like the one she had just witnessed. Accepting that as truth, Lillian could now assuage the girl’s worries. “But these people, they all went home. They all went home, and so will you. Just remember that, okay? I’ll… I’ll help you get home.”

“But could you… could you just call…” At that, she burst into tears, knees buckling as Lillian caught hold of her in time. The poor girl held her close, sobbing into her shoulder, sniffling and gasping as she tried with all her might to quell her crying.“911, or anyone, just… just anyone.”

“I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what that means.” The words had been like a dagger through her heart, and Lillian regretted speaking them instantly. This was all she could say to correct that mistake. “But I’ll help you find someone who does.”

She let up then, if only by a thimble. That hope, as small as it was, was something she could cling on. “O…Okay,” the girl from faraway finally managed to say. Her voice was weak, still quavering, but the word gave her confidence. “What’s… your name?”

“I’m Lillian,” she answered softly, bright and chipper. She had hoped the optimism would be soothing, that some of it would rub off on the wistful girl. “Lillian Sesthal.”

“Mine is… mine’s Brielle…” She had paused before every sob, hoping to answer in kind without a snotty interruption.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Brielle. Would you come with me? There’s a village nearby.”

Brielle nodded at that, but she perked up, remembering something important. Making her way toward what Lillian now knew to be an ambulance, the girl recovered a black messenger bag, seemingly packed tightly with a variety of her belongings. When she came back, the redhead already looked much farther along the path of recovery. “Alright. I’m ready.”

“It’s a little place called Briggston,” Lillian began, looking back at her new acquaintance. “A tad backwater, but maybe someone there can help you.” Brielle tried her hand at a hopeful smile, but it was quick to go. Lillian was afraid she might be falling back into shock.

“Do you want to talk? Anything you want to get off your chest, anything you’re curious about… anything, really.” Still facing Brielle, she genuinely smiled. “I’m here. I’ll listen.”

[Twylith]

Brielle smiled wanly at Lillian, but shook her head. She didn't feel much like talking at the moment. Her head was still trying to process what the hell was going on. Lillian didn't even know how to call the police, how could she help Brielle?

They walked past the back of the ambulance, and Brielle couldn't keep her curious eyes from darting inside. She saw the bloodied corpse of the patient in the back, obviously thrown around from the rig capsizing. Forcing herself to look away quickly, she was suddenly fighting the nagging feeling that she was missing something. Brielle stopped, and looked around on the ground.

The big, heavy footprints of a man wearing boots stood out in the soft dirt around the ambulance. Brielle let her eyes follow them around, but couldn't make sense of the different paths.

"Hey, Lillian?" she called. Lillian stopped, and turned around.

"Yes?" she asked. Brielle was smiling despite herself, and Lillian returned the gesture.

"Where's the paramedic?" she asked. Lillian gave her a quizzical look that told her she had no idea what Brielle was talking about.

"I don't know what you-" Lillian began. Brielle waved her hand, trying to think of how to explain it.

"The- the guy in the back," she began. "In an ambulance one guy drives, and there's always another in the back. Or more. Where's the guy from the back of the ambulance?" Lillian shook her head, obviously not comprehending. Brielle pointed to the ground instead.

"There's footprints," said Brielle. "One of the guys in the ambulance must be okay. Maybe a bit beat up, but okay. If we can find him, maybe he can tell us what happened. How I ended up here." Lillian smiled at this, and pointed to a line of smashed and bent grass that Brielle hadn't seen.

"We can follow his path," Lillian began. "It looks like he was headed towards Briggston as well." Lillian smiled sweetly once more, and turned to follow the path cut in the grass. Brielle followed, her spirits brightened.

It wasn't long before the smell of death hit them again. Brielle was growing increasingly tired of it by now. They'd reached a trampled looking clearing covered in blood, and what looked like broken pieces of cow. Bloody, broken pieces. Two men knelt beside one of the larger pieces, carving off chunks of meat. They were covered in the animals blood, and Brielle had to turn away before her stomach got the better of her.

"I think I'll let you handle this," she whispered over her shoulder to Lillian. It was an effort just to get the words out without vomiting.

[Ataraxis]

While she understood Brielle’s reluctance, Lillian was not quite sure what made the other girl think she was in any way better equipped to deal with the apparent massacre of a herd of what she could only describe as scaly wildebeest. Still, she had to stay strong, to endure the overwhelming stench old stale blood, sun-dried brains and emptied guts: Brielle needed a pillar in this world, someone she could depend on, and Lillian had been able to provide at least a measure of that ideal. Hurling at the gore, however, would ensure the end of that fledgling trust.

“Excuse me,” she called out to the men tearing the carcasses limb from limb. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

One of them looked up, one hand over his brow to shield them from the battering sun. Seeing the two girls, he stuck his skinning knife between the ribs of a dead creature before standing up. “Sorry fer the mess, ladies. We’d have cleaned it up faster, but things got in the way.”

“That didn’t explain one dang thing, Jas,” the other hollered out from a far-off he had half-dismembered. “One of our own did this and kindly reported back that we’d have a week’s feed fer the whole dang place. Taylor’s his name. Happened before. Was an accident back then, too, but we didn’t complain: kid was alive and our tables were full.”

“I’m sorry… was?”

“Yeah, we don’t know where he is,” the one referred to as Jas answered, rubbing his forehead with a grave expression. “Kid’s mom is dead, and we’ve no idea why: no blood anywhere, didn’t even hit her head too hard. Bit ruffled up, though, so maybe a heart attack, though the broad wasn’t that old. Found that out a few hours back… town’s been in an uproar since.” He brought his arm out in a crude flourish, sweeping over the gruesome scene. “That’s why we only got to this now.”

Lillian’s countenance darkened then, her mind having stumbled upon a theory she did not like. “After Taylor came back from… this… was there anyone else?”

Jas did not seem to know, his shrug the only indication of an answer. The other, however, had frozen stiff. He was remembering something. “My wife… she said something about that. Wasn’t listening too hard but…” He looked up, squinting as he reeled back through his memories. “Something about a guy in strange clothes who came to Briggs a while back. Thought she meant weeks ago, but maybe that was today. Said she heard him talk to the kid… talked about inappropriate things and all.”

“What kind of things?” Lillian asked.

“I dunno, just… inappropriate. Don’t want to dirty up you ladies’ ears, you know?”

“Please,” she pressed on. Something about her was feeling off now, and he thought it best to comply, propriety be damned.

“Missus was all flushed when she told me. It was something about… dick parameters?”

Lillian turned to Brielle at that. Though initially embarrassed, they had both heard beyond those words. “You said something about a paramedic?” Brielle only nodded, and Lillian faced the man again. “Any idea where that stranger went?”

“Heard he didn’t stick around long. My wife figured maybe… maybe he went back the way he came from?”

“Alright, thanks for your help.” Lillian approached Brielle, pulling her aside from the two men who resumed their gruelling work. “What do you think? Want to go back to the town and ask around, or look for this paramedic? There’s a forest beyond the meadow, so maybe he sought shelter there.”

[Twylith]

"I suppose we look there, then," Brielle said. Her voice came out slightly nasally, as she was trying not to breathe out of her nose. Her stomach was already in knots from the days events, and the stench of blood was getting to her. Anything that got them away from this mess would be fine with her.

Lillian led the way again, picking her way gracefully along the edge of the massacre. Brielle followed behind her, trying to mimic the woman's graceful movements, and failing. The silence between the two women was starting to bug her, as silence always did. She racked her brain for something to talk about as they trudged on through the tall prairie grasses. Then, the most obvious question occurred to Brielle, and she was amazed she hadn't asked it yet.

"Where are we?" she asked. Lillian glanced back at her, and a smile touched her lips.

"Not Des Moines, I can assure you," Lillian said. She pronounced the city Dé-mo-ahn. Brielle half laughed, half sighed. She'd had to explain this before.

"It's pronounced duh-moyn," she said slowly. "Hard for those who didn't grow up around the area, because the word is actually French." Lillian glanced at her. They were walking side-by-side now, though with quite a bit of effort on Brielles part. The girl was fast, as if she was used to picking through prairie on a daily basis, or climbing up mountains, even.

"What's French," she asked. Brielle goggled at her.

"It's a language. People of the country of France speak it," she said. She was really starting to get the feeling that she was much, much farther away from home than she'd thought. Lillian had told her this, but she must have not grasped the whole scope of it.

It was now occurring to her that the animals slaughtered back in the field really hadn't looked like cows at all. They didn't look like any animal she could think of. Brielle let herself fall a step behind Lillian again. They'd reached the forest, and Brielle walked with her head down, deep in thought. Then, she took a deep breath, and the words tumbled out of her.

"What about the United States? Do you know where that is? Africa? Europe? Asia? Australia? Any of those? Are there real cows here, instead of those freaky looking things back there? What about cats? Dogs? Chickens, goats, fucking flamingos?" Brielle was starting to unhinge, she could feel the little bit of composure she held slipping. "Is there anything in this damn place that's normal? At least, normal to planet Earth?"

[Ataraxis]

“Well, I did meet someone who claimed to be with the United States Marine Corps. I can’t say those other places ring any bell, no.” Lillian shook her head in silent apology, at first not realizing how happy the answer had made Brielle. “Cows, however, we have: unless the ones from your home don’t go ‘moo’?” She nodded that they did. That, the scholarly girl thought interesting: it seemed there was no deviation between the names given to the overlapping faunas of their respective worlds. Why, however, was a whole other question.

“Also, here, it rains cats and dogs, people chicken out, and we separate the sheep from the goats… though I’m not quite familiar with that type of flamingo,” she ended with a quizzical note, tapping her chin with an index, and Brielle looked at her with honest disbelief. “That was a joke – I’m not a nitwit. And as for those scaly things back then, that was a first for me, too… I’m a bit of tourist around these parts, so I haven’t gotten acquainted with the wildlife just yet.”

Crossing into the forest was a trying activity that required a short suspension of their talk, what with Brielle struggling for purchase on the peaty, uneven path. After a field of twigs and thorny brambles, countless toppled tree trunks and a series of footholds covered in slippery moss, the two girls had reached a manmade trail that no doubt led to various lumbering posts. “At any rate, what passes for normal on this planet Earth of yours?” Lillian resumed, though her friend had required a few panting moments to recall the conversation.

“I don’t know… normal stuff. Reading books, watching television, going to school.” Brielled stopped near the stump of a tree, dropping her bag there to rummage through it. Within a few moments, she removed a strange rectangular device, with a glass screen and a variety of buttons and designs. “Listening to music? No?”

“I’m not too sure if we have an analogue for that television of yours, but the rest is there. Though I’m not sure how you’d listen to music with…” Brielle pressed a small button, and the screen lit up with pretty blue lights. Strings and percussions resounded from the apparatus connected to the device, a headset of some sort she now realized. “Oh. That’s nice.”

“It’s Nirvana.”

“Is it? That’s strange: a few months ago, someone I suspected had come from another world mentioned that exact word. We have it here, too: followers of Suravani see it as a state of freedom from suffering, though it is often conceptualized as a world of its own as well.” Lillian listened on, intrigued by the harsh yet harmonious sounds and the chorus of ‘hello, hello, hello’. “I think can see how the sense of liberation certain songs provide can be seen as Nirvana.”

“Well I wasn’t… It’s more like the name of the band… but wait. Wait!” Brielle looked up from her messenger bag, having only now realized what Lillian had been saying. “You actually met someone else that could be from Earth? What was he like?”

“Well, he had long, dirty-blond hair, bit of a beard… he seemed in bad shape, but I recall his teeth were remarkably white.” Lillian rolled her eyes skyward, picking up any distinctive trait that might help Brielle recognize the man, all the while knowing how unlikely that would be. “Handsome blue eyes, and calloused fingers... but he was injecting himself with something and, when he threw his head back, it almost… almost looked like buckshot wounds scarring over.”

“No… no way. You’re kidding me.” Brielle stood there wide-eyed, unable to close her gaping mouth. “You met Undead Kurt Cobain?”

“Uhm, maybe? Though, he looked very much alive.” Lillian shrugged. Tilting her head to the side, she blinked curiously. “Is that significant?”

“Well he died when I was one, so that sounds pretty damn significant!” Brielle shook her head, sighing out of mixture of disappointment and outrage. “I’m from the same world as him, but you meet him first.”

“I guess our worlds have irony in common, too.”

“Maybe… no. Maybe I’m dead? Damn it, am I dead like Kurt Cobain?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure Althanas would make for a decent afterlife… and before you ask if this is a dream, would you like a clichéd pinch or should I try something more creative?”

After a few moments of bewilderment, Brielle slowly shook her head, respectfully declining. She continued to rummage through her bag, pushing various folded clothes aside, until she felt something cold. Slowly, she produced from her things what seemed to be a revolver.

“A firearm? I’ve never seen that make before… but ah. That man with the Marine Corps said he had a ‘Springfield Armory M1A SOCOM II .308 caliber carbine’, whatever that is.” Lillian had remembered the long and complex name due to her remarkable memory, but there was barely any glint of familiarity in her friend’s eyes upon hearing that. “If that sounds like something from Earth, then maybe he was telling the truth.”

“Well… SOCOM sounds like a game guys play too much, maybe?” They both shrugged at that, but Brielle seemed much more confident, now. The knowledge that she was not the first to have spirited away and brought here made her hopeful that there was a way back, and she was that much more enthusiastic to find this elusive paramedic. “It’s too bad it’s broken, though… from the looks of it, this place is really dangerous.”

“Well you can hang on to this,” Lillian said, handing Brielle the dirk at her side. “I know from experience that this will sound terribly odd to you but it’s… magical, if you will.” Brielle blinked, saying nothing. She had been right. “Swing it and see.”

She complied. The slash disturbed the air before her, and soon a crescent of razor-sharp air shot out from the weapon’s arc, breaking against distant trees in a ruckus of thumping wood and broken bark. Brielle gasped, then smiled as she laughed in amazement. “Doesn’t run out of ammunition, either,” Lillian added with a light smirk.

“Alright. We might want to set up camp here before it gets dark. If this paramedic is in the same situation as you, then he’ll likely need a break very soon as well, and we’ll be able to find him then.” At that, Lillian turned toward the deeper woods, addressing the other girl over her shoulder before leaving. “In the meantime, I’ll gather some firewood. You’re free to accompany me, but you can also stay here and rest: there aren’t any predatory animals in these woods, so you can relax.” Lillian had only lent her the dirk so that Brielle would feel a measure of safety knowing she was armed, but the girl very much doubted she would have to use it.

“I… I think I’ll stay. But uhm, could you not… go too far?”

Lillian smiled, nodding. Moments later, she vanished into the shadows, and Brielle could only take comfort in the sound of twigs snapping underfoot.

[Chucklecut]

"What happened?" Zachary's voice was even, betraying none of the anxiety he felt.

Taylor had told him these woods were free of predators or monsters, so he had allowed the boy to help in his search for a source of fresh water. He hadn't expected the boy to come stumbling back into the clearing with a bloody arm and pale face. He was rummaging through his medical bag now, looking for a few select supplies. His movements were slightly rushed; he had to find everything he needed, and quickly. The boy wasn't in danger of dying, but the sun was. He would need that light to care for the wound. Trying to stitch a wound shut in the dark was a bitch.

"I heard voices. I wanted to know who it was." Taylor replied. His voice shook, and sweat prickled his forehead.

"And they attacked you?" Zachary asked, a knot of heat rising in his chest. This world really sucked. Who in the hell would attack a child?

"I don't think they meant to hurt me. It was magic of some kind." The boy answered.

Zachary mentally strangled the curiosity that rose at those words, and turned to the boy. "Here. This will help."

He administered the shot quickly enough, and watched as the boy's face cleared of pain and his taut muscles eased. He lifted the arm of the boy's shirt, and went to work as quickly as he dared. He went through the steps, his experience affording a certain level of confidence. His love of the boy put a slight tremble in his fingers though.

"Zachary... they were talking about the place you told me about. Your home." The boy said after a moment. The paramedic's hands went still.

"Earth?" He asked.

"Yeah." The boy replied, looking up at Zachary's face. Taylor's blue eyes studied his in a very adult manner.

"Perfect. Someone from Earth attacked a ten year old boy for no reason." His anger was growing.

"I think it was an accident, Zach." The boy replied, though Zachary wasn't listening anymore. His teeth were gritted as he worked, trying to close the wound opened by these unknown strangers. "I was hiding in a bush, and a red haired girl swung a weapon. Like she was testing it, or something. Something came off the blade and hurt my arm."

Though he made no reply, he filed the words away in the back of his mind. He finished the stitches quickly, wrapping the boy's arm in a protective bandage. After that, he dug back into his bag. The injection kit came out quickly, and he selected a short needle. The syringe he chose was the same that he had used to withdraw adrenaline from Taylor's mother. In the chamber, a small amount of the liquid could still be seen; he hadn't had time to clean it out after they had fled. It didn't matter anyways, considering what he'd be putting in the chamber. The sedative would override the epinepherine.

"What are you doing?" Taylor asked, his voice worried.

"Going to get some answers." He stabbed the needle into one of the medicine vials and pulled lightly on the plunger. The clear fluid filled into the syringe.

"Zach, please don't. They might hurt you." Taylor sounded upset now.

"I'm not as vulnerable as I was before." Zach replied as he tested the needle to ensure it was clear. A small strand of fluid shot out of it. He stood, and turned to look at the boy. "Stay here. I'll shout for you if I want you to come to me. And Taylor, listen to me. If it's really safe for you to come out, I'll say 'goofball' when I call for you. If I don't say that word, you ignore me. You don't do anything unless I say that word. Understand?"

"Yes." The boy nodded, but still looked afraid.

"What was the word?" Zachary asked.

"Goofball." Taylor repeated.

"Good. Now stay here." Kneeling beside his bag, Zachary pulled out two more objects; a large cloth bandage, and his scalpel. Standing, he walked into the forest in the direction the boy had stumbled back from.

Minutes passed in quiet as the sun sank lower in the sky, mostly hidden by the tree trunks. The air was thick with multiple scents, oak and pine, that nameless clean smell that permeated those late days when summer began to slip into autumn. Foliage crunched under his feet as he moved, though the ambient sounds of the forest covered it. The soothing drone of cicidas and the siren chirps of singing birds would have made him drowsy, save for the seething ball of fire in his chest.

When he heard someone ahead, he slowed his pace. His senses were on high alert, fueled by the adrenaline pumping through his system. And in that adrenaline, he felt safer. It carried his stolen gifts, and their presences flickered through the back of his mind like a vulture's dark wings.

When he was close enough to see her, he stopped and knelt beside a tree. Taylor had been right. She was obviously from Earth. Her clothing was the typical flamboyant style worn by teenage hookers everywhere. Her hair was a bright, fiery red, her body smooth and thin. She moved with a certain grace made human by her sometimes clumsy actions. She was standing in the center of a small clearing, swinging a dagger wildly around her. Everytime she swung the weapon, a wash of... something came from the knife's blade. It was like the rippling you saw rising from a distant road in the high heats of summer.

Gritting his teeth, he called on the simple power he had stolen from Zachary's now-dead mother. A rock lifted from the ground near his boot and skittered away wildly into the clearing, passing behind the woman's back. It crashed into the woods at the far side. The noise drew her attention, and she spun toward the sound.

"Lillian?"

Smiling darkly, Zachary opened his hand, the syringe rising by itself. He grasped it with his mind, and sent it speeding at her back. When it hit, he mentally pushed the plunger and sent the sedative into her system. She collapsed without further ado, the weapon falling uselessly from her hand.

He took a quick look around the clearing for any signs of the girl's companion. When all remained quiet, he made his way quickly to the fallen girl. He checked her pulse first, and found it easily. She would be perfectly fine. He removed the needle from her back gently, then set to tying her hands behind her back with the cloth bandage he had brought. If nothing else, those long rides in the back of a wild ambulance had taught him well. He knew how to tie a secure knot. When he was done, he dragged her toward a nearby tree, and pulled her unconscious form into a sitting position. As he steadied her against it, he heard a distant movement and knew he was running out of time.

He picked the syringe up, and pulled back the plunger again, filling the chamber with air. And carefully, very carefully, he slipped the needle into the artery at her neck. Just as he finished, another girl entered the clearing. She opened her mouth to speak, alarm evident on her face. Zachary didn't give her the chance.

"Don't come any closer. Do anything I don't understand, and she dies." His words seemed to rouse the drugged girl beside him, and she started to struggle feebly.

"Let her go." The standing girl said. She had concern written on her face, and Zachary sensed danger in her. But he wasn't afraid to play Russian Roulette when he had to, and even if he did die, he would certainly take the red-head out with him. And speaking of her, she had gone still beside him, though her breathing patterns told him she was awake. He looked down into her blue eyes, and felt a thrill of justice at the fear in them. As innocent as they both looked, one of them had attacked a ten year old without cause.

"Do you know what happens when air is injected directly into the blood stream in large quantities?" Zachary asked, his voice empty of emotions. The tone was suitable for an altogether different question. Maybe Would you like a cup of tea?

[Twylith]

Brielle tried to speak, but all that came out was a small squeak. She nodded instead, trying her best not to move her neck at all. She could feel the cold metal of the syringe in her neck. Though she should feel panic, the mixture of whatever he'd injected into her along with her weariness from the days events, she was just worn out.

She looked up at the man who held her, letting her eyes trail over the messy black hair, honey-colored eyes, the scruff of a beard that indicated someone who didn't shave as often as he should, and settled on the navy blue work shirt he wore. Her eyes focused on the white patch on his shoulder, embroidered with the navy Star of Life; a blue six pointed star, enclosing a wooden rod, with a snake winding up it. The symbol representing EMS personnel.

Brielle gasped, and the man looked down at her with anger.

"Have something to say?" he growled.

"You're the paramedic," Brielle said. She was using extra caution when speaking, so the words came out slower than normal. "The one from the ambulance. We were looking for you," she finished.

[Chucklecut]

"And in the process of finding me, you did considerable harm to a defenseless ten year old boy for no apparent reason." Zachary hissed back at her. He used his hostility to cover his confusion and doubt, presenting a stronger face than he could have otherwise.

The girl was obviously vulnerable, and with each second that passed he felt more and more like a monster. Until he remembered why he was doing this. Taylor waited not so far behind him, hidden in the darkness and trees. His only concern was to ensure the boy wasn't hurt, to care for and protect him. These people were a threat, and one that had already bitten the boy.

"Mind explaining why you hurt him? Or why you're looking for me?" As before, his voice seeped with open hostility.

[Ataraxis]

“I’ve absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Lillian answered his previous question with cold honesty, not even trying to hide her annoyed confusion. She settled the firewood in her arms with such deliberation as not to alarm the man showing clear symptoms of delusion. Moreover, she had done what she needed to quell her concern and find the necessary equanimity to deal with the situation, and her expression was now one of chilling serenity.

“Don’t lie to me. Unless you want to see what happens once I inject all this air into her artery?”

“No, I’m well aware,” Lillian answered matter-of-factly. “What happens is an air embolism, a pathological condition in which a gas bubble of considerable size travels through the bloodstream and lodges itself into the heart, blocking the flow from the right ventricle. Following that, death is likely to occur.”

“That’s… a surprise,” the man answered after a moment of reflection, the hostily of his tone replaced by a sound of vanity. It was the typical arrogance of a man in a position of power, delighting in the helplessness ofthose he took revenge on, enjoying the rising hatred in their eyes at his infuriation mask of nonchalance. “I was beginning to think medical knowledge here was limited to bloodletting and trepanation,” he continued with the same laid-back conceit.

Lillian, however, could see he was new at this – he was somewhat fretful, a state induced by the novelty of indulging in something he knew was taboo. Even if he did all out of alleged concern for a wounded child, he was obviously conflicted by his chosen means… and she had realized something else, now. The child he mentioned, and the one she had been told about earlier… news of the poor boy’s dead mother… it all came together. Lillian’s eyes darkened for a moment with seething disgust, but she kept playing the game.

“Well, if you mean here as in here… then yes, you’re probably right.” Lillian rolled her shoulders, pulling back her lips in an apologetic half-smile, a sign that she was sadly agreeing with his statement. “Briggston is only one of hundreds of small settlements across the countryside. Granted, most are still very well… equipped… to deal with advanced forms of injuries and illnesses without a working knowledge of human physiology.”

“Hah, I might know something about that,” he said slyly, and she knew he was humoring her. It was obvious to him she was stalling for time, perhaps waiting for an opening or at least working the gears of her mind to form a plan. But he knew. It was clear in his eyes that he knew whatever she did, he only had to thumb the plunger to kill his hostage. “People here have interesting powers.”

“Oh?” Lillian noted, lacing the word with innocent curiosity. “I take it you have some personal interest in them?”

“What’s it to you?” he replied, curtly this time. Lillian noted this change in demeanor. “As fascinating as this is, I’m not interested in wasting a whole afternoon on a Mexican standoff with child beaters.” With his free hand, he produced a second syringe that had been tucked away, no doubt for insurance in situations like this. He tossed it to her, and she caught it gently. “You know how those work, right? Inject yourself with it – all of it. Do that, and I’ll leave you and your friend safe and alive.”

“That sounds like a fair deal,” she lied. She removed the cap from the syringe, its cylinder already filled with some agent with paralyzing or soporific effects. Perhaps, even, it was a deadly poison, and he meant to kill them both. Lillian did not seem to care. She pressed the needle on the crook of her elbow, finding the vein. Her thumb was poised on the thumb rest, and she squinted her eyes.

Lillian saw the man’s hand relax, watched the needle’s tip leave Brielle’s neck for only an instant. She snapped her fingers, and a loud reeling tore through the silent air. His body constricted: his wrist struck his shoulder and stuck there, as if bound by invisible threads. Next were his heels, then the other arm. The syringe flew across the clearing, drawn by a black line. Within the blink of an eye, the man was bound, struggling against the black webs she had slithered around him without his knowing. Lillian pulled the syringe away from her vein, throwing it away.

“Now listen, and listen well. You mentioned a ten year old boy? I happen to know one such child was reported missing from Briggston today. Also, his mother died mysteriously: since you seem to care about him so much, maybe you’d know something about that? And oh, wait… a gas embolism could explain how she died, couldn’t it?”

She saw the rage in his eyes, and the guilt. He was going to try something, and she tightened the webby bounds with a single thought. He gasped, and whatever power he had begun to muster dissipated into the air. “I won’t have the patience to repeat this one more time: we never saw the boy, and even if we had, we have absolutely no reason to hurt an innocent child – we’re not sick.

“You, however… you’ve got some nerve calling us the monsters.”

[Chucklecut]

Zachary's struggling relaxed; telekinesis wasn't the answer to this. Escape was. He thought of Taylor, and a sense of weightlessness came over his body. He sidestepped without concern, the black threads entangling him dropping through his body and on to the ground. Mentally, he felt a rush of love toward Taylor, who had given him this power, though without knowing. He was free from her sorcery, and a simple thought brought both of the syringes flying back to his hand. From his back pocket, his scalpel sailed free and hovered an inch from Brielle's right eye.

"Oh? And now you're talking about what you don't know. Nice and arrogant. I didn't kill that woman. And yes, you did hurt him. Took me a dozen stitches to fix his arm after one of you sliced it open. He said it was some wild burst of air, or some shit. I'd call him out to prove it to you, but I don't have the time to dick around with you. Nice trick though. I wonder if it comes with eight spindly black legs. Back home, we deal with spiders by stepping on them."

He turned his attention to Brielle, obviously writing Lillian off. She was little more than a child, and her pride would keep her on her high horse. She wouldn't give him the answers he wanted. The Scalpel backed away from her eye and floated near his head like a protective halo.

"Since your friend here is all about jumping to conclusions and being a royal bitch to people she doesn't even know, maybe I should be talking to you. I'm sorry I drugged you, and I'll release your hands- as soon as I know why you two attacked Taylor, and rather or not you mean any serious harm to the boy." He tilted his head. "Also, you said you were looking for me. Why?"

[Twylith]

Brielle blinked, trying to clear her thoughts. The sedative still coursing through her was making her incredibly drowsy. Though obviously not it's intended purpose, it was still making this situation harder to handle. She sat up a little straighter, trying to find some comfortable position while her hands were still bound behind her. Looking up at the man, she now could see the name embroidered in bright white letters on his shirt. Zachary.

"I'm sorry to say, Zachary, that I may have accidentally hurt your friend, Taylor," she said slowly. Brielle's mother always taught her that honesty was the best policy. She was silently praying that it was true. "It was stupid, really. Lillian left me here while she went to gather firewood, and lent me her knife. I- I've obviously never seen magic before, and it kind of amazed me so I was.." Brielle trailed off, hating the words she was about to say. She felt childish. "I was playing with it. I didn't see or hear anyone near. I didn't even know I'd hurt anyone. I'm sorry for that." Brielle took a deep breath, readying herself to answer his other question. He looked visibly more relaxed now, and she hoped it meant that he believed her.

"As for why I was looking for you," she started. "I woke up next to your ambulance, and I have no idea how I got there." Brielle's eyes welled up a little, remembering just how lost she was. She sniffled a little and wished she could wipe her face off. Instead the tears just rolled down her cheeks unchecked. "I don't remember anything. Instead of school books in my back pack I have clothes and-" she stopped herself before saying a gun. I have a gun in my bag, she thought to herself. That scared her more than Zachary did. "And I don't remember packing them. The last thing I remember was eating dinner with my grandparents on Easter, and then I woke up here. Lillian found me and we ran into some men that said you had just left town. Lillian thought you might have come this way so that's where we went."

[Chucklecut]

Zachary nodded at all the appropriate parts of her answers, and then found himself smiling gently.

"You know... my first call as a Paramedic, a man was in a car wreck. On the way to the hospital, I failed intubation. The tube went into his stomach instead of his airway. I caused his stomach to rupture, and he died because of it. I understand the nature of accidents, and I'm sure Taylor will too. As for the other stuff..."

Zachary's voice trailed off. His mind was a jumble of emotions and thoughts.

"I had suspected you were from Earth. Your clothing and all. I have no idea what happened to you, or how we got here. But here's a question. After seeing some of the things possible in this world, do you really want to go back?"

He waited for a moment while she obviously considered the import of the question, then turned to Lillian. His eyes turned hard.

"If you touch him, I'll see you dead. No matter what it takes, or how long it takes."

He ignored the flash in her eyes; he meant every word. Turning back toward the forest, he raised his voice. "You can come out now, Goofball!"

He moved around behind Brielle and untied the bandage, then began folding it back up. Taylor came crashing through the forest, stopped at the edge of the clearing and looked around uncertainly. He seemed afraid, but it disappeared when he saw Zachary. He ran to the paramedic, and came to a stop behind him. He had Zachary's bag slung over his shoulder.

Zachary turned and rummaged through the paramedic bag, and finally withdrew a vial of liquid. He pushed one of the syringes into it, the full one, and discharged the liquid he had filled it with back into the bottle. It was the medicine he had intended to knock Lillian unconscious with. He found another bottle and filled the other syringe up, then turned to Brielle.

"Here, give me your arm. This'll clear up the side-effects."

[Ataraxis]

Lillian wanted to scream at Brielle for giving him her arm, but the girl gave her a pleading glance, stopping her from intervening. Cursing, she watched him administer an alleged remedy to whatever paralyzing toxin he had injected her with only minutes ago. The scholarly teenager was fond of neither of these travelers from Earth at that moment, having a strong contempt for the irrational. In all honesty, she had half a mind to toss up her arms in abandon and walk away, leaving them to sort out their predicament by themselves.

When he called out the boy, Lillian had cause to pause. The fact that he had threatened to kill her if she did anything made her scoff to no end, and at that point she had lost any interest in reasoning with the delusional man. He had ignored every honest to god explanation she had deigned provide him, and that had been all she would ever afford him. The child, however, was indeed wounded, and upon hearing Brielle’s explanation, she had felt a surge of rage and disappointment in her heart. It was quick to vanish, but Lillian’s reputable willingness to help strangers in need was plainly dwindling with every sorry encounter.

Disregarding the man’s warning, she approached the boy without hesitation. She crouched, eyes level with his, and asked his name. “Taylor,” he answered timidly, a glint of wonder in his eyes. He reminded her of Chance, the son of a man with whom she used to travel. The father was dead... and the son had likely followed. Her heart broke when Taylor spoke again. “You have really blue eyes!”

Lillian chuckled, then reached for his arm. At once, the paramedic acted on his dark promise, sending the scalpel he had telekinetically trained on Brielle’s eye toward her. Lillian deigned not even look, only hefting a hand into which the sharp blade sank. Blood sputtered out from holes on both sides of it, and her only expression of pain was a wince of cold rage. Dark webs emerged from the wound, billowing like tendrils in the wind, and within moments the scalpel was pushed out. In wide-eyed surprise, they saw the wound close and knit until no trace of it remained.

The man must have guessed by then what she had been trying to do; albeit reluctantly, he relaxed from his murder-ready stance. Lillian passed a finger over Taylor’s wound, noticing with effaced interest that the stitches had been expertly done. The same shady threads began flourishing from his injury, and soon there was nothing but a pink scar that was even now fading before their eyes. The stitches fell away, slipping to the grass in severed pieces. “There. Is that better, Taylor?”

“It… It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” the boy gasped in ecstatic surprise. Obviously, the painful itch had been annoying him for some time, and he was glad to be free of it. “You’re even faster than the town healer!”

“You’re too kind,” Lillian answered, giving him another sunny smile. She ruffled his already unruly hair, and he moaned and laughed, trying to lightly smack her hand away with his own. With that done, the girl simply drew to her feet, dusting away at her white dress industriously before turning to the two foreigners.

“It was a pleasure,” she said monotonously, her eyes cold and dead. Somehow, she felt no qualms leaving Brielle and the boy with a man she saw as a murderer. They would live, probably: twisted as it the emotion may have been, he seemed to care for the boy, and Taylor appeared to reciprocate. There was also a clear connection between him and Brielle now, no doubt due to their similar circumstances. At the very least, he did not seem to show the tell-tale signs of a serial killer, and that was enough for her.

“Good luck on your future endeavors.” Without another word, she walked away. It was almost nightfall, and she had ancient ruins to study.

[Chucklecut]

"Lillian."

It wasn't said in any threatening way, just a statement to give pause. He'd thought she would ignore it and continue on her way, but was surprised to see her stop and turn. Her posture told him that she wanted nothing to do with him any longer, something that both pleased and upset him at the same time. This wasn't how he wanted it to go, but at the same time it seemed the safest way. He wondered in the back of his mind how irrational his emotions were; the girl had only done what she believed was right. Just as he had done.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry. This world isn't like the one I came from. I've had almost no happy experiences since coming here. It's easier to distrust than to open myself to what could kill me."

He knew that his words, expression, tone, and likely his body language could give away the skeletons in his closet. He wasn't too concerned about it however; he had never tried to hide his past. It was open knowledge to anyone that asked. He simply didn't volunteer the information. He had decided long ago that he wouldn't walk around through life with a pin buttoned to his shirt that read 'hey, I'm a victim of sexual abuse!

He took a few steps toward Lillian, but stopped well short of her. He didn't want her to see threat in the action, he meant none. "I am the product of things done to me at Taylor's age. I'll do anything it takes to protect him from those things. I hope you can understand that."

Of course, the entire time he had taken to speak to the young woman, Taylor had been busy himself. Apparently leaning casually against the tree Brielle sat against, he had slowly moved himself into the perfect position to see down the redhead's shirt. Apparently Brielle took this moment to squeal and skitter away from the tree. Zachary spun, but eased when he saw the look on Brielle and Taylor's face. Then, he only sighed and shook his head.

[Ataraxis]

Lillian had stopped to look over her shoulder, if only out of curiosity. Half of her had wished to see him charge at her in a last ditch effort to kill her: she would have had no qualms in using lethal force to defend herself, and the world would be rid of another criminal. Hearing him apologize, however, did nothing more than irritate her.

While she conceded that his anger at seeing Taylor wounded was well within norms of a sane reaction, the manner in which he sought out answers for a slight that had revealed itself accidental in nature... she could not forgive that. Nor could she forgive the crime he had committed, but refused to admit. From what she heard, he had not even been here a day, and he was already seeing himself as the protector of the boy whose mother he murdered.

“Of course I understand,” she said after a long sigh. “But coming from you, after everything you’ve done here – and in Briggston – I have a hard time believing it.” While she had no particular desire to start another verbal match with the man, she would not mince her words for his benefit. “Ignoring my terrible opinion of you… you just threatened to kill two girls. You actually did attempt to kill me.

“And for what? A gash. As terrible an accident as that was, there’s no way in hell that justifies what you did. Not in my eyes. If it does for you, then great: enjoy your twisted moral compass.” She addressed the boy, now, her voice softening for the apology. “That being said, I really am sorry you were hurt, Taylor. There’s no questioning that.”

“That’s okay,” the boy called out, still playing around the tree against which Brielle was slumped. “I wasn’t mad or anything, and I told Zachary it was probably an accident.” With that, he returned to teasing the immobile teenager, now squeaking defensively.

After hearing that, Lillian did not care anymore. In fact, she even wanted to laugh, if only because of the futility of what had just transpired. All of this, just because someone did not trust the words of a child.

Again.

“Just… do whatever you want. And have fun next time he scrapes his knees: I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people to blame for that.”

[Chucklecut]

Zachary's eyes watered, and he swat at the unexpected tears with frustration. She acted as if he had wanted to do what he had done. She really had no clue, and couldn't care less about him or what had happened. He didn't blame her. What really upset him was to hear the things he had been screaming at himself mentally spoken out loud in the daylight. She was right of course.

"So you've never done anything that you regret completely? No ghosts haunt you to the thought of ending yourself? If you have no regrets, then you really are a special person. A blessed girl, leading a perfect life." His tone was envious, no trace of sarcasm or hostility. "You believe I'm a monster. It's obvious. And I believe you're right."

The scalpel floated easily through the air. Lillian lifted her hand defensively, and twitched slightly when the scalpel reversed and dropped lightly into her hand. Zachary's face was contorted, and tears gathered in his eyes again. His voice dropped to a volume that only Lillian could hear. He trusted Taylor's ability to cause racket to hide the noise, and his own body to hide the scalpel from Brielle or the boy's sight.

"In my religion, it is a complete damnation to kill yourself. Show the monster one kindness, and save me from one last offense. I won't fight you. Just please," He grunted softly, clearing his throat. "Please take care of the boy. Your work is already half done for you."

Zachary rolled up his sleeve. A long, ugly wound traced up his forearm, badly stitched closed. He noted the revulsion in Lillian's eyes and laughed in shared self-disgust. "I tried to send him back to the village. He came back."

"Why didn't you use your medicines?" Lillian's asked, some form of curiosity in her tone. He smiled softly. He wasn't sure why, but it felt right. It felt easy, unlike most things in his life these days.

"Because I don't deserve a clean, painless death after all the people I've failed." Zachary replied, emptiness entering his eyes. He wasn't seeing Lillian anymore. Faces were drifting through his mind. Hundreds of them, each as bloody and mutilated as the last. The people he had failed to save. The people he had accidentally killed. "I don't owe you any explanations. And you don't care to hear them. And even if you heard them, you wouldn't listen. All I want is some measure of peace, so just do what you want to. Killing an evil monster isn't evil."

Lillian only looked at him, her hand at her side.

"No? Figures. Judgmental to the core, and out only for yourself. The only important pain in the world is your own. Well, regardless, I hope you find happiness in your life. And even if unpleasant, I'm glad to have met you."

He reached forward, and took the scalpel from her carelessly, only luck keeping it from slicing one of his fingers open. He turned, and made his way back to the other two. He knelt by his bag, and began throwing things back into it. He stood and slung it over his shoulder and looked to Taylor.

"Stay here a second. Stay right with Lillian and Brielle."

"Where are you going?" Taylor asked, suddenly worried.

"I have to pee." He replied. Luckily, the boy was too young to see the lie in his eyes.

Zachary turned and walked away toward the woods.

Taylor watched him go, then turned back to Brielle. While the redhead was busy looking at Lillian, he poked her breast, and laughed when she made a sound that could only be described a 'Squeeeeeeeee!'

[Twylith]

Brielle took a step closer to Zachary as he passed, and grabbed his shirt in such a firm grip that when he tried to keep walking, it came untucked. She shot him a threatening look, and he stopped.

"Don't move," she said. Zachary turned, raising his eyebrows to her. Brielle walked across the little clearing, and knelt, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out her MP3 player, and walked over to Taylor. Kneeling down in front of him, she held it out and smiled.

"Put these in your ears," she said, pointing to the headphones. She tapped the "on" button, and queued up some random music. Taylor, ear buds in his ears, smiled. "Why don't you go over by that tree, sit down, and listen a bit? I think Zach, Lillian and I need to talk." Brielle turned the volume up a bit more, until she could hear the din of drums and guitar coming from the ear buds. Taylor nodded obediently, obviously enjoying the little device. He sat by his tree and was silent.

Brielle stood, and turned towards the other two. Zachary had his arms crossed over his chest, Lillian leaning against a tree with a bored expression on her pale face. The light was really dimming now, and both of them weren't much more than shadows.

"You both are acting like fucking children," Brielle started. Zachary and Lillian both opened their mouths to deny, scoff, or argue, but Brielle held her hand up. "No. I have a few things to say, and you're both going to listen to me." There was a dangerous tone to her voice, the tone of a woman very close to the edge. Zachary and Lillian remained quiet for the time being.

"I guess I'll start with you," Brielle said, turning her full attention on Zachary. "Do you think I'm so much of an idiot that I don't see what you're trying to do? I'm pretty sure you don't need your medical bag to go take a piss." Zachary shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. "You're planning on dumping that kid on someone else, so you can run off and be miserable by yourself. Well, isn't that grand? Let someone else explain to him how he's just a worthless card to be shuffled about the deck of life. His mother didn't have a choice in leaving his care to someone else, but you do. The fact that you'd so quickly abandon him when he seems to have become pretty attached to you is pitiful."

Zachary's face was flushed red, but he kept silent. Brielle turned to Lillian now. She wore a smug look, the same look of a child on a playground who's just watched someone else get scolded by the teacher. Brielle rounded on her.

"And you, so quick to leave me with someone whom you obviously find unbalanced? Aren't you a kind soul. Pick me up, walk me a few miles into a forest and dump me with someone else. You aren't much better," Brielle spat. Lillian looked distinctly more ruffled now. She stood a little more defiantly, and scowled. "You're both ridiculous. You're so caught up in yourselves, you don't care about anyone else. Call me a cry baby but I'm 17, I'm scared, I'm alone, I need answers that you have," Brielle gestured at Zachary, tears welling up in her cobalt eyes. "And knowledge of the world that you have," she now gestured at Lillian. "But you're both so fucking quick to leave me and that poor little kid to fend for ourselves. I know I'm not great friend of yours, I'm a perfect stranger. But, what happened to kindness and caring?" Brielle looked back and forth between the two of them. Both sets of mouths were tightly closed.

The tears were really coming, now. Moonlight filtering through the tree branches illuminated the tears on Brielle's face. She could feel herself standing very close to the edge of full on bawling.

"If you're both just going to bail, then fine. I'll let you. But first, let me talk to Taylor so I can make up some excuse as to why him and I need to run off together on our own. Maybe I can spin it so he doesn't feel as if he's being abandoned. I however, won't be saved that luxury," Brielle finished.

[Ataraxis]

Lillian had wanted to retort, to tell Brielle she had only considered leaving her with him after because of how easily she had come to trust him – of how easily she seemed to forgive him for the hardships he put her through. Yet, she could not say a thing. For all intents and purposes, Brielle was right: whatever her reasons, she had been willing to abandon them both to a man she firmly believed was an unhinged criminal. That realization had come with guilt, and it wound tightly about her heart like barbed wires. Not as much as it would have, almost a year ago… but still enough to warrant a slight reassessment of her stance.

Moreover, the tears that were now running across Brielle’s cheeks had a strange effect on the girl. It tugged at her heart strings, but not out of pity or sadness for the lost traveler. It was as if looking into a mirror, as if staring at a reflection of the past. She remembered crying, just like that, when she was exiled from her homeland, and was forced to wander about a harsh and unforgiving world with no companion other than herself. Back then, she had been lucky: kind ears had heard her sobs, and had come to lift that burden of solitude from her heart. Though many had vanished, though many had died… she thanked them to this day. Without them, she would have died long ago in some unknown ditch, no doubt broken and defiled.

To leave someone just like she had been on such a terrible path, to deprive Brielle of her help, when they could have done just the same to her… ‘That… that would be monstrous.’

Her eyes fell, heavy with shame and regret. Lillian walked toward the girl, kneeling next to her. She put her hands on her lap, and lowered her head in apology. “I’m sorry, Brielle. I was tired, and mad. Bitter, even.” She came closer to the wailing girl, lacing her willowy arms about her quavering frame and giving her a shoulder on which to cry. “I’ll keep my promise.”

For the moment, she did not want to think of Zachary. She was still very much conflicted: his involvement with Taylor, the things he had done… but he was important to Brielle, if only because he was her only connection to Earth. Moreover, she had no idea what would be best for the boy. The idea of him being raised by such a man, it frightened her… but if he had run away from his town once, he would likely do so again, in frantic search of Zachary. She had no way of knowing if happiness could come out of either path... no way of knowing which was likeliest to invite death.

In the end, however, that was not her choice to make. Whatever the other two chose to do, she would have to accept it.

‘For Brielle’s sake, I’ll just have to.’

Realized there were no requested spoils. Though nothing was gained, I'd like to request these customary ones:

Sitayamini Silk – The equivalent of X shirts or X/2 jackets (X spools) in her magical black-silk cloth, as stated in her ability, Seamstress of the Sinister (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=16278). They approach the strength of dehlar.

I replaced the usual 4 with X, that is to say, whatever amount you think is adequate for a mainly character-driven quest.

[Chucklecut]

Lillian's words of apology struck a memory in Zachary, and he spoke to no one in particular as he walked toward Brielle. Though in his heart, he spoke to himself.

"'Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future.'" Zachary smiled when Brielle looked up at him, confused. He dropped his hand toward her, his palm out. She took it, and he lifted her up to her feet.

"You said you wanted something of me. I don't know what it is. I do know what I want for myself, however. I want to be a good man. I'll help you get home Brielle. Somehow."

He smiled reassuringly at the girl, then turned to look at Lillian. As before, her face was blank when she looked at him. "As for you... If you can't see past one wrong doing, then don't bother to speak to me. I won't be crucified for one mistake when I've sacrificed my entire life helping people I don't even know. Not to mention you don't even know what happened."

Having said what he felt he needed to say, Zachary's mood lightened. He took the paramedic bag from his shoulder and slung it over Brielle's head. He smiled as she staggered slightly.

"Didn't think it would be that heavy, huh? Saving lives isn't all peaches. Of course... Saving lives was actually the rarity. Remind me to tell you about when I got called out because a ten year old glued his grandmother's false teeth to his forehead by accident." Zachary gave a pointed look toward Taylor, and was rewarded with a giggle from Brielle. "Now, if you Lovely Ladies will excuse me, I must go relieve myself."

Zachary bowed deeply and tipped an imaginary top-hat, his lips curved into a genuine smile. He turned and disappeared into the forest.

[Twylith]

Brielle breathed a deep sigh, which turned into a yawn. After regaining her composure, she looked at Lillian.

"I know you're upset with me for trusting him so readily. But I want you to know, I'm wary of him still, just like you. I think he'll be helpful though. I still don't know what happened to bring us here, and he may have some of those answers." she said.

Lillian nodded, though reluctantly. "I don't trust him," she said. "But I understand your need of him."

Brielle crossed her arms under her chest. The light from the day was all but gone now, and she was hoping Zachary could find his way back to the clearing without trouble.

"So what now?" Brielle asked.

Lillian shrugged her thin shoulders. "I suppose we go to Camus. It's not far from here, maybe a few hundred miles from Briggston. It's renowned for it's magics. It's possible we could find something there to help you get home," said Lillian. Brielle laughed a little.

"A few hundred miles. Well, I suppose nothing worth the while is easy," she said. Lillian smiled. "For now, I think we should get a fire going, and-" Brielle broke off, and pointed at Taylor, who was now snoring quietly against his tree. He still had the ear buds in his ears, but his head lolled to the side, and his mouth was open slightly. "I think Taylor has the right idea. I don't know about you, but this day has been hell on me. I need some rest," Brielle finished.

Lillian nodded, and the two of them set about starting a fire, and clearing the ground of twigs and rocks to provide them a soft place to sleep. Brielle's worries proved futile, as in the process of building the fire, Zachary came trudging back into the clearing, and helped them finish the task. Then, they all lay down, and got some much needed rest.


Chucklecut requests no spoils. I, however, would like to request a beginner-level telekinesis spell, as Zachary so unwittingly stabbed my character with some of the magic juice. (Zachary stabbed Brielle with a needle still containing some liquid from his solo quest, which is what gave him the telekinesis to begin with)

Telekinesis: Brielle is now able to utilize weak Telekinesis. At current, she can lift nothing heavier than 15 lbs. The longer she exerts this power, the greater the toll on her energy.

[Zook Murnig]

Quest Evaluation

Lost and Found

As was requested, there will be as light of commentary as I can bear to give. As well, Ataraxis has requested not to have ANY commentary, and I reserve the right to fulfill that request.

STORY ~ 20/30

Continuity ~ 7/10 I know where you came from, where you are going, and there were no unexplained twists in the story. I do, however, wish there had been more detail about how the kid's mom actually died.
Setting ~ 6/10 I knew where you were at all times, and Chucklecut did a great job of throwing in the extra details and interacting with his environment. There wasn't a lot of opportunity for it, but a little bit more of that interaction would have been nice.
Pacing ~ 7/10 With constant interruptions, this thread took me about an hour, hour and a half to devour. There were no major hiccups with the flow, even between posts. You all have demonstrated the collaboration that I hope many others will learn to use in their stories.

CHARACTER ~ 22/30

Dialogue ~ 8/10 You all sounded like real people, and not in the overly awkward sense that actual real people give, but real people as depicted in the entertainment industry. The dialogue was worded according to the knowledge level, personality, and other factors particular to each character, and let me know who was saying what before I ever got to "INSERTNAMEHERE said." The confrontation between Lillian and Zachary was very well done, as well. High marks.
Action ~ 6/10 Not a lot of major action, but what was there was well described. It could have been done better, but it would have been tough. I did enjoy the fact that you acknowledged the way that a syringe works, Chucklecut, as well as the shortcomings of that operation.
Persona ~ 8/10 I feel like I know these people at least as well as some of the people I work with, between what was explicitly stated and what was implied by their words or actions, or lack thereof. The confrontation, again, was a high point, as were most of Brielle's reactions, especially to the confrontation. Once again, high marks.

WRITING STYLE ~ 21/30

Technique ~ 7/10 I have seen better technique, but this was very good. The intro to the thread was particularly nice, utilizing the tropes of awakening from an unconscious state and averting them simultaneously. Ataraxis, as always, shone here. Drat, I gave you a comment. Deal with it, kid.
Mechanics ~ 7/10 There were some left out words, words that should have been other words, extra words, and misused commas. Overall, though, it was just proofreading errors, and nothing I didn't immediately infer to what I assume was the correct intention.
Clarity ~ 7/10 I knew what was going on most of the time, and when I didn't, I figured it out quickly. Not much to say.

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card ~ 7/10 I liked this thread a lot, I have to say. I hope to see a lot more from you two (I already know Ataraxis isn't about to stop writing anytime soon).

TOTAL ~ 70

Twylith gains 635 EXP and 224 GP
Ataraxis gains 2848 EXP and 224 GP
Chucklecut gains 590 EXP and 196 GP

Twylith gains her Telekinesis as requested, which upon her next update must be included. Whether you keep it in its current form will be determined at that time by your approval moderator in the RoG.

Ataraxis gains, by way of super-secret special request, instead of the 1.5 spools of thread I had originally intended, a two piece bathing suit for Lillian made from said thread and a sarong of the same material, provided by the ability Seamstress of the Sinister. I deem this equivalent in material to one and a half shirts, or three quarters of a jacket.

If you have any questions about the judgment or how you can improve, PM me or send me a message on AIM, screen name SuperSonicMatt1.

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added.