[Samhain] The Well of Eternity

The Twilight dancer sat cross-legged on the bar, listening to the wears of the Alchemist called bartender. The blind mask tilted to the side as their gauntleted hand tapped the top of the bar rhythmically.

"Quite the list of extraordinary options. Hard to pick just one."

Riley considered the options before them. Each was as tempting as the last. But, tonight, fear was lord, Riley knew fear better than most. So Tonight, Riley was going to embrace fear, and perhaps a little courage was needed to really be able to soak this night in.

"I'll take a Ascalon's Tear, to get the night started"

Riley blew out the flame, wondering how the glass didn't explode from the smoking ice. As they knocked back the liquor, the twining serpents bit. A vision flooded their senses—like the living nightmare that haunted them the night of Litha, where they could not wake until they admitted guilt to the forms of those betrayed. Faces and moments flitted by, with the knife of their ambition cutting into the flesh of those who prospered instead of themselves. Their envy burned the world around them as their light wiped their mistakes to ash and blinded those who looked too closely, leaving the moth alone in smoking ruin—a phantom husk offering secrets and favors, so that they may ignite and inspire a new audience, forever evolving to new beginnings.

The moment in front of them seemed inconsequential now, like nothing they did would hurt them more than what they could do to themselves. But that was within Sorsa's control, and the power was intoxicating.

The ice that rolled in the center of Aster's drink reminded her of the moon, leaving her disoriented if she squinted at the detail. As she lifted it to her lips, she almost dropped it as she watched moving silhouettes vanish—A reminder of darker times. It was a trick of the spirits, as the illusion only held through the liquid, and once nerves were settled it seemed all the more appealing to sip. The trauma was only a taste as fires burned brighter, with the shadows drenching faces until they were twisted; of blurred leather and copper. The smell of peat and blood clogged her nostrils as the thunder of her mortality seized and beat her heart, tearing it between two beings of hammered flight and frozen panic; an animal and one who is lost. Damu whispered through the cedar trees and the grain of the bar as Aster's hands stuck with sap, and she knew It was rising behind her, heralded by the mad dance of bonfire and baying murderers. A hand clasped hers, shifting to new and wonderous tortures of meat and wild with each heartbeat, and the eclipse of horns that knew no pattern. She wouldn't look at the mask leaning in over her shoulder, right on the edge of sentience.

Tears cleared her vision, but not the feeling of dirt that suffocated her throat and nose. Coughing relieved the punch of alcohol, and the illusion. As her vision swept across the party, the shared fate was revealed in baleful flashes of an invisible fire: Wayland, Victor, the oracle Benjamin Murphy, the Twilit Page, and many Knights. Most were not all that surprising: the She-Wolf and Bloody Mary, of course. Nimbus gave her pause, and...Solomon?

Blaze wasn't sure whether she pinched the silver lime wedge into the shot, or sucked on it afterwards like tequila. Watching the tiny dust motes delicately drift from the rind craters into the elixir, she removed the floating fixture to rest it on the counter and finding it stayed put. Shooting back the blue, orange-tasting vodka that felt ice cold going down, the vision burst across her sight like blood rushing from the head.

A fate determined: Scaled hands gripped the hair of a decapitated head, while the other hand was given a key.

A fate yet to be decided: a moth caught in a web, struggling as a spider spun a cocoon. As the spider bites to liquify its prey, the image splits. The moth emerges with a new splendid pattern, ethereal as the spider fails to snatch at a ghost, while the rest of its trapped, long-dead prey emerges to the same freedom; another the moth remains dormant, feeding the predator only to see the spider wither from its poison and drop from the web, leaving other wriggling insects free and yet to be wrapped.

A fate for myself: the demonic hand of the Ifrit extends towards an arrow and a sewing needle. The flames are quenched, igniting as it hovers closer to the arrow, with the sound of the enemy at the gates. The injured look on, waiting to see if they are to be defended or the task handed to another. Peace is a path to be scouted, but will the trail be here, or through an Ivory gate?

Terror.

That was the best way to describe the expression upon Aster's face, as her mouth dropped becoming partially agape and pupils dilated in response to the mounting fear the Beast was experience. She breathed heavy as she looked down to her hand in horror as another grasped hers, pulling her into a vision portraying the dance of flesh and blood.

Then it was over and the Serpent's eyes, glistening with her tears tore across the crowds, landing on the faces in turn and committing them to memory, looking each likely an holding some in her sights for a bit longer than may have been comfortable. The drink had done its work and Aster knew she was not alone. She would pursue them in time, but, for now, a strange woman was speaking to her and Aster felt it would be impolite to ignore her. Aster did not have a gift for warm conversation, but the whole point of coming to Samhain was to make contacts in the greater Freehold.

Aster's eyes finally fell on the Flameborn as she mused over an answer, even as the Oathbreaker approached to afford greetings to them both.

"It did exactly what I was told it would do," Aster answered, "Nothing more, nothing less."

"Aster. Of the Spear," she offers as Riley begins introductions, taking their hand with some reluctance. Aster holds the Moth in her gaze for a long moment before speaking again, "And I know your name, Riley Sorsa. From Litha."

Riley's and Dani's 'duel' had occurred in front of the Freehold on the stadium's floor - with disastrous results. It was one such event that had convinced the Serpent to finally leave behind her Long Rest and become more active.

The Moth's choice of the Fool was met with raised brows from Aster, bearing a look of surprise.

"You want to be invisible," she states, referencing the effects of the fruits. Should they eat all three, Riley would not be recognized. It would grant them a momentary peace, "That's... understandable. I'm sure I wanted something similar in days past."

Aster's tone had began as icy, but... eased as she came to an understanding of Riley's potential desire. It seemed the Beast would be coolly cordial, if guarded, unless given reason not to be.

Drinking that shot was like having your eyes replaced with that of a fly - the fates showing simultanously on each facet, layering over each other and interacting in ways hard to describe or comprehend by the human mind. Small wonder alcohol was chosen as the vector - Blaze strongly suspected that if the brain wasn't dulled by the percentage, it'd short-circuit from any of the drinks. And although the Ifrit considered herself used to the strong stuff, she inhaled sharply as if she swallowed a whole ice cube.

The Torrent listens to Aster and the other person's brief exchange - the Moth surely had a name, maybe even one Blaze knew, but it escaped every time she thought she had it. Must've been the Fool working as advertised.

"Blaze. Of the Arrow." she mimics the Beast's introduction "You're the mechanic, right? Word is you're a handy repairwoman."

The Elemental tries to engage the reserved, serpentine-like Summer even as she tries to keep the Moth in her sights as well, including them in the overall discussion. Name or no name, the Spring had a reputation, but not all of Blaze's drinking companions were exactly stellar or innocent over the years, so her standards are low as it is.

"That Daisy Chain thing looks tempting..."

At Riley's prompt, the bartender lifted his mask to take a better assessment. Stephen Callahan was a walking paradox, with an almost sickly like pallor to how pale he was and calla lilies blooming from his hair and splits in his skin. His eyes has a sort of grey sheen to them, as if he were a beautified corpse, but as lively and charming as ever as the Flowering squinted with genuine interest at the Moth.

"Well, my recall is rock solid, so that's fun," he laughed, glancing at the notes he was taking behind the bar to review Riley's physical description and re-attach the moniker to the severed connection in his memory. It was a novel experience for a Witness of the Eternal Echoes to lose track of a detail, even by magic of his own design. "I'll tap something once you're done, if you don't mind," he muttered, reminding the lot of how Gavin Graves gets when he's locked onto something. 

Sliding a new martini, this one lacked the Fruit garnish. Callahan gestured helpfully to the remaining two on Riley's pick of their current drink.

"Nobody is just anything." She answers the Beast "People have a lot of masks. A lot of true faces, too. Honne and tatemae I think it's called in Japan. But eh, the attractions of Samhain don't include me giving a poor excuse for a lecture. I'm a breaker too, after all, just prefer to avoid close encounters." 

That was about as much as she was willing to dive into her life unprompted. Not even just because of Winter's brand of secrecy - but looking like you're pouring your heart out to strangers barely two drinks in is a violation of a bar etiquette, she thinks. To dilute it a bit she smiles back at the Moth, although it was getting harder and harder to recall any details about this person.

"Right" Blaze replies to Aster's tease with the kind of stone face that could make one question if she's just playing along with the joke or if it has completely flown past her "So. Let's."

She motions to the bartender and asks him for a Daisy Chain for her and Aster.