NOT IN MY CROSSROADS

[inkindled]

WHO: Barrow, Derrica, Matthias
WHAT: the gang visits the spooky crossroads
WHEN: Harvestmere
WHERE: the Crossroads
NOTES: part of the September

assignments.

"A team of Venatori were discovered in the Crossroads prior to the attack on the Temple in the Arbor Wilds, and the prospect of the enemy gaining greater access to the eluvian network opens up a host of dangerous possibilities. A Riftwatch team will be sent back into the Crossroads to try to discover where that group of Venatori entered from and prevent future use of that entrance....."

Comments

turkish delight: the gang vs bushes and mirrors

[inkindled]

There's only three of them, but the way still feels narrow. A cold and peculiarly damp wind slaps at the back of the neck, tugs at the hem of cloaks and dogs at their heels. And there's a smell, on the air, if you stop to catch it.

The steadiest sound, apart from breath, is the crunch of glass underfoot. Silvery shards of mirror like quicksilver spilled on the ground make a path before them. There hasn't been glass all this way. The swathe seems concentrated here, as if someone ran through a mirror-maze smashing everything in sight. Most of the shards are small, and dangerous in that way, but every now and then, there's a shard that's dagger-long and just as wicked. They all reflect the torchlight as their team pass over it, glittering and winking--but out of the corner of the eye, the light looks different. Indoors, somehow. Like firelight from a hearth might look. There's no way to say how anyone would know that, the difference between torchlight and firelight, but it is different. Isn't it?

That's what Matthias is thinking, at least. He keeps finding himself looking down, no matter what he does to fix his eyes on the way ahead. Before long, his gaze has strayed down again, watching the pieces of the mirror as they walk over them.

"Hey," he says, breaking the silence. "Is there--something funny about these?"

He kicks at a large bit of shard with the toe of his boot. It flips over, revealing its back to be just as reflective as its front, and there's-- definitely something there, a face, a woman with a long nose, thin cheeks, and Matthias looks about so quickly he nearly has his had off, but there's no one. Nothing. All the hair on the back of his neck is standing on end and his staff is in his hand and there's no one there.

"There's something funny about these," he says, firmly.

[thereneverwas]

"If they told a joke, I didn't hear it."

Most passages feel narrow to one of Barrow's size, and he's had to turn sideways once or twice just to get through. He doesn't mind the cold so much, but it being from the Fade--or something like it?-- and not a completely normal source like the damp of Ferelden or the wind off the sea has his hackles up.

"Seen a ghost?" he asks the lad, raising an eyebrow, though not entirely unsympathetic.

[inkindled]

"No," Matthias says, quickly. "Seen a shard of mirror," and then he can't finish that sentence, because it's too ridiculous. A shard of mirror that reflects what isn't there? Come off it, Matthias.

So it shouldn't be a problem, to pick it up off the ground and look at it. He stares, hard, at a bit of mirror in the path ahead. A large bit, maybe the size of his forearm from fingertip to elbow. When their path reaches it, he stoops and shrugs one shoulder forward, so his cloak falls in the right way, and he can wrap his hand around it and pick up the piece of mirror without cutting himself on its edge.

There's darkness in it now. Too much darkness. The three of them have light enough to see by. The mirror's face should reflect it, even if it's a scrap of mirror.

"Look," he says to Barrow, and twists in his crouch so he's holding up the mirror shard for him to see. The hand wrapped in his cloak clasps at the broadest edge, obscuring that bit of it--but there's still a sliver by which to see. "S' too dark, like. That sort of funny."

[tender]

"Careful," Derrica cautions. She's trailing, distracted by the crunch of glass under her boots. "It could be cursed to do something awful to you."

Or all of them. But one potential disaster at a time here.

[thereneverwas]

Barrow squints at the shard, coming no closer to it.

"...yep, that's curse material," he agrees, "put it down, mate."

[inkindled]

"S'not," Matthias says, immediately, doing the very teenager thing of disagreeing on principle, "if it was cursed I'd not have been able to pick it up even, right? It'd have my hand off. It's only," and he turns the shard toward himself, and there she is again, glaring at him. The shard of mirror shows only half her face, nose up to forehead or so, but he knows the face and he looks around quickly.

And there's no one and nothing behind him. When he looks back, the mirror is reflecting only darkness again, and a little bit of his face. Mostly his mouth, which is caught up in a nervous frown.

"Look in one, would you."

[tender]

Obligingly, Derrica steps up to peer into a mirror alongside Matthias. When a flash of unfamiliar face appears and vanishes, she grabs the back of his tunic instinctively. Certainly nothing here can hurt them, not unless they give it a little more of an opening, but—

"I don't like this," she says. "Did you see that?"

She looks first at Matthias, and then turns to look directly back at Barrow. Someone saw that strange passage of shadow on the other side besides her, didn't they?

[thereneverwas]

"If curses couldn't be picked up, our jobs would be a lot easier," Barrow sighs, and happens to be glancing at the same shard as Derrica when she catches sight of the Dread Visage.

"Shit--" he sputters, and steps back, meeting Derrica's eyes with a knowing look. Oh Hell no.
This is above his pay grade.

[inkindled]

Used to having the back of his tunic (or shirt, or cloak, or robes) grabbed like a puppy being grabbed by the nape, Matthias doesn't pull away immediately. He permits the grip unconsciously, focused on the mirror shard. The phantom face has flitted into view again. Then ot passes out of sight, like someone stepping to the side, moving away from a window. He tips the shard, leans to the side, trying to see--finds himself hampered by the pull of his tunic on his underarms--and that's when he pulls a little face, and struggles a bit.

"I know her," he says. "Get off a second, would you? I want to see--"

She's not there. Darkness, like he's looking into a room without a candle to see by. Impatient, he tips the shard the other way, and there she is again. Blindfolded now. Old linen, wrapped and knotted tightly. This is the last time he saw her. Blood matting her hair. He'd never seen her hair before. Lank, dirty, stringy about her face.

"This is mad. What is it?"