Chapter VII - Healing Pains

[Karl the Mad]

There hadn't been much time, but Marius still managed to return the truck, dash back to his condo, get cleaned up and dressed in something more appropriate than trucker camo, and dash through the city back to rejoin the others. Not a thread was out of place on his Italian suit, and he looked much more at ease with himself than before. Three would spot the telltale bulge of a firearm, even though the suit was tailored to hide it as much as possible.

"I haven't been to a carnival in ages," he remarked to himself, glancing around. He approached Konrad with a smirk. "I've heard of you, sir. Love what you've all done around here."

Charles and Abraham meandered in a moment or so after, and they too had somehow managed to squeeze in a shower and a change of clothes. Although it was nothing more than what they usually had on, unlike Marius' fancy tailoring. Charles approached Nereus and shook his hand, while Abe gravitated toward Three. "I was told I should find myself a focus," he told the other man, reaching beneath his shirt and pulling out a silver lion medallion on a chain. "Would this suffice? It was presented to me upon my retirement from service to Israel..."

[IamLEAM1983]

Konrad Clown's small stage was a bit isolated from the others; both recessed towards the back and narrower, and differed from the others in that he'd stuck to the Circus' previous aesthetic mandate. His little canvas canopy looked purposefully faded and threadbare, the floorboards of his stage - barely more than a dais to stand on - were pale and weathered to the point that getting splinters on those planks would've been impossible; and an old gramophone stuck to the quietest level it could reach gently piped a warbling and unsteady recording of Puccinni's Madama Butterfly. On the dais waited a basic wooden stool, and on said stool waited Konrad, still looking as though keeping his unnaturally long arms and legs furled in was some sort of act of courtesy, his Pierrot makeup emphasizing the dour lines in his face and underlining how he seems unable to etch a genuine smile. Still, he seemingly made a valiant effort as he was greeted.

"You're most welcome, Madam Meris," he said, shaking her hand, his large mouth very quickly parting in a disquieting grin, before immediately returning to a look of melancholic dourness. "Forgive me if I seem indifferent, you and I simply already had this exchange several months ago, in one of my feeding sessions."

Nereus tried to go for something to lift up the vampire's spirits. "Well, then, I hope the day's already gone over well," he said, smirking.

Konrad nodded slowly, as if burdened by the weight of his own head. "Oh, yes - quite well. You needn't worry yourself with today, or with several other todays. We are all safe here."

The Augur blinked and canted his head slightly to the side. "Why do I sense that there's a for now missing, here?"

Konrad didn't verbally reply, but the pained look he briefly gave suggested he wished that wasn't the case, but that he also didn't want to press the issue. That pain washed over his features smoothly, leaving him as gracefully as it had appeared. His curled-in, almost birdlike upper limbs twitched, and he turned on his stool to nod at Marius. He smiled again, nodded and briefly looked past him, even as he addressed the elder Dracul.

"Would that I could cherish it as much, mister Vlastos. I hear my companions' laughter, smell the sweets and snacks from the concession stands every night - and Horatio, he is as hopeful as I've ever seen him. Our success and victory seem obvious. Still - I see the ruins to come. I see us all steeled by your friendship and kindness, that of all in this city as well - but there will come a time where tears will be shed. Your sentiment is much appreciated, however."

Nereus scoffed gently. "I know I shouldn't talk, seeing as I spent centuries foretelling Humanity's doom on the wrong end of a cosmic debate, but I don't know how this is exactly appropriate for the occasion, mister, erm, Clown..."

As this bit of awkwardness unfolded, Three then took a few minutes to review Abraham's findings, having excused himself from it in the immediate to spend a while longer observing the proceedings. Now that he felt reassured, he lightly palmed the lion pendant and made a face, as if its weight were of some importance in the decision-making process.

"It'll be great," he said, nodding at Zahavi. "Just keep it on you when you get in bed tonight, try to feel it with your fingers while you relax, make some sort of mental game out of feeling for the carving and sculpting process without looking at it, as if you were blind. You should fall asleep pretty quickly."

He was about to hand it back when something else came to mind. "If I were our friend, I'd maybe want to link you in gradually. I doubt they'll give you a total view of the Darkhallow as an opener, but if you end up in the Skydiver Special, just treat it like any other landing and imagine you're wearing a chute. No matter how freaky your surroundings might look, you'll obey the influence of any projected wind currents and you'll still land like you normally would. You'll be a fresh connect and an unusual one for the Darkhallow, so you might have intruders even before they'll have given you the run-down on Sanctums. Be ready to defend yourself - and that means maybe reviewing a few gun safety and carrying measures before bed."

In the back, a lighter voice coughed. Doctor Dickens waited behind the group, the former Freak still transfigurated into the head of a hitherto stripling-less bloodline, his immaculate black waistcoat adorned with golden stars and planets over caramel-colored silk, with a similarly-tinted jacket shucked on top. His ears were less pointy than Konrad's, his features almost wholly mundane in appearance, if not for the slight sheen of his eyes and the iridescent quality of his fingernails.

"Phineas Dickens, mister Marinos - nice to meet you. You'll have to forgive Konrad, he's one of those in the Circus who suffered a particularly cruel fate under Horatio's blood. I trust you've heard of the legend of Cassandra's Tears?"

As understanding dawned on Nereus, he flashed Konrad an apologetic look. "My God, I - I didn't know. I'm sorry, I didn't-
- It's alright," replied Konrad, raising both gangly arms up in a placating gesture. "I like to think it gives me a bird's-eye view on those of you who can revel in the Present. I know I seem dour, but it only is so because I am. There's little I can do with it, except moderate my own melancholy. You'll be glad you came today, and I don't need a seer's gifts to tell you this much."

Still, Nereus then noticed how different Phineas looked from Konrad. "I thought you were-
- A Freak?" filled-in the former huckster with a smirk, "yes, I used to be. I pushed through my fears and delusions at the favor of the incursions, and some European elders believe I've been touched by Lilith, as a reward. I live again - as in, I'm once more biologically alive - I am of sound mind and cut off from Horatio's stream of wisdom, but I've gained something else in return. Something that wouldn't make for a great showpiece at the moment, I'm afraid. I no longer run an act, but I work with our remote agents for intel acquisition and also handle the dime museum's Public Relations department."

Three frowned lightly at that. "I wanted to ask about that, actually. Now that the Circus has gone sedentary, how are you keeping your vault in circulation? You can't just stash bribe material or covert intel in the back of a dime museum, someone's going to zero in on it over time."

Dickens touched his nose with a finger and winked. "With all due respect, Aidan - if I told you, I'd have to put you on payroll. For the next, oh, several centuries. Dramatic sirings fell out of fashion, so it's better for everyone if I just don't."

Looking more amused than anything else, Drake crossed his arms over his chest. "So, what? If I ask for info on Alexander Ruthven you're going to black-bag and Shadow-Walk me to a secure viewing location where I'll have XYZ minutes with a curated dossier?
- If it's physical, yes. If not, you'll eventually receive a one-time-use link to a burner PDF containing everything we've got on your requested topic. If later physical queries need to be arranged, then we'll black-bag and Shadow-Walk you at an agreed-upon time and place. We don't kidnap our clients, obviously."

Aidan raised his eyebrows at Marius. "Now, I'm curious... You had plans to store things off-world, back when Marius was a concern of ours. Is that still in effect?"

In response, Phineas let out a warm and good-natured chuckle, smoothed over his pencil-thin mustache with his thumb and forefinger and settled with a half-teasing "No comment. You've been in the business, mister Vlastos - I'm sure you understand."

[TennyoCeres84]

Meris considered her husband's commentary as she looked at him and pursed her lips. "One way of putting it is that we have these are happy days to look back on when things get rough. They may end up becoming bittersweet, but that's the way life is. Change is a constant, but happiness isn't," she explained while squeezing one of his hands.

"We get to live in the moment and enjoy them, even when the portents say trouble's brewing," she added.

Neasa and Ciaran were the next ones to arrive after the Archmage and the former Augur. "Breaking into a philosophy discussion already, Meris?" Neasa lightly teased. They had equally cleaned up and put on their best for Horatio's get-together. They hadn't had much time to speak with Nereus since his arrival, but waved as they approached.

The oldest selkie nodded and smiled. "It comes with the territory, Neasa."

[Karl the Mad]

Marius was about to respond when something else caught his attention, and he glared off into the distance at a point somewhere past Phineas' shoulder. "Tsh. The Noise says you were the ones who ratted me out to Liddane and the middle Holden, and it wants me to tear your secrets from your skull, then rip you all asunder and rinse your ichor down the drains so a new Circus can spring up in the sewers." He let a moment pass, then sighed and looked away again. "But that's a bad idea, so I told it to go kick rocks. So you could say I understand." In spite of his words he seemed unnerved, and after another moment he excused himself to go stand alone with one of the exhibits.

Heedless of that drama, Charles and Abe approached Konrad. "Yer some kinda death-seer? How's Abe 'n I gonna die?" he asked with one of his typical toothy, scar-enhanced grins.

[IamLEAM1983]

Marius would've had about five or six minutes to spend poking at nickelodeons or restored early pinball machines he might remember from the dawn of the previous century - effectively Pachinko with more colorful paint, more primitive materials, the simplest of spring-loaded mechanisms and the basic assistance of gravity. Past that, an unusual beauty slid closer, carrying a tray that was loaded with blood-based cocktails. She was gorgeous from her forehead to the base of her neck - a well-perserved example of the 1910s' hair and personal grooming styles in the more colorful corners of cities like Paris - but some sort of severe ichtyosis covered every inch of her skin from her collarbone to her feet - at least judging by the pencil dress she wore. The scales weren't quite as iridescent as a snake's, but they had a bit of a greenish tint to it, and stuck closer together than regular folds of peeling skin. It almost gave the impression that she'd come into the possession of some sort of expensive lab-grown scale-mail body suit.

"A little hair of the dog?" she offered. "I may not be nearly as old as you, Monsieur Vlastos, but I have some experience when it comes to men that live with a head full of whispers... It comes with the job, when you're around Horatio as often as I am."

She took one of her drinks, served as it was in a broad martini glass, and more or less mimed taking a sip without actually letting her rouged-up lips touch the object. She'd more than likely only wanted to sample its scent, to offer a specific glass to Marius. A small and inviting smile touched her lips, slowly broadening to reveal a dainty pair of fangs.

"I'm Alora," she said, barely above a whisper. "Snake Lady, the one showstopper in the troupe's two soothsayers - only I don't go as deep or as dark as poor Konrad."

The glass she'd picked was then offered. "AB Negative, seventeen years old - a willing donor to our stores. Hot-blooded, impetuous and adventuresome. High notes of mortal invulnerability, with the sweet zest of recent success; and just a hint of unleaded gasoline... First car out of high school, I'd say."

The tiniest of crooked edges gave her smile a rapacious look. "I prefer them full-bodied, myself, but young life is always so sweet and effective, when it comes to mending the sting of old wounds."

Her features lightly shifted, suggesting a sliver of added seriousness. "You know Horatio isn't equipped to issue you a formal apology - not at present, at least. I, at least, can discuss matters if you need to. I know his mind as well as my own, anything I tell you may as well come from him. We can even reach my office, if you'd prefer."

* * *

Konrad had watched Marius go for a few seconds, obvious empathy gleaming in his eyes. He'd then refocused on Charles and Abraham and seemingly allowed his gaze to turn unfocused for a few seconds. When he came to, it was with a look that suggested familiarity and a bit of graven amusement. A silent chuckle even passed through his shoulders.

"How does any man die, Charles Jenkins? With some pain and some confusion, naturally. The specifics don't matter, not when you routinely throw both your lives on the line for equal parts breadline, passion and principle. You could both die alone - or surrounded by friends and family alike. You could both die with excruciating violence or simply cease to be at the favor of the right grenade, the right pistol round - or you could sigh in release one last time after a job well done and simply fall asleep as the years you were freely given reassert themselves."

He looked around, as if catching glimpses of something else. "Buildings die linearly. Cities turn to dust. In one future, the death of Hope comes as water levels recede and as fertile ground wanes. People simply... leave. Hope falls asleep, one last time. For you or me, however?"

Konrad chuckled softly. "You've always appreciated the fact that Life has allowed you to choose to work with your friend, mister Zahavi," he said, addressing Abraham. "I'm not about to rob you of further choices, and the best way to do so is to remain frustratingly imprecise. Consider it as a marker of respect."

Considering Meris' words, however, Nereus looked equal parts understanding and frustrated. "It doesn't make it any less annoying, honestly. I suppose it's cultural bias on my side, but I like my prophecies crystal-clear. It makes scheduling things a whole lot easier."

Konrad didn't look offended, but a trace of sarcasm touched his words. "I apologize if my curse is inconvenient, Your Immenseness. You might issue a formal complaint with my employer, but I can't promise you'll earn more than sputtering laughter and wheezing breaths." The smile he added dispersed the pointed look of unease the Augur had only just displayed, making him smile behind his tendrils again.

"You're wiser than me by centuries, mister Clown," he said. "I doubt I'd count this boon of yours as a curse; people at least tend to be earnest when their lives are on the line."

Konrad nodded to Neasa and Ciaran as he agreed. "That, they certainly do... Welcome to you both; I don't imagine introductions are entirely necessary, at this point."

[TennyoCeres84]

Meris scoffed lightly and patted Nereus' shoulder. "I've have limited success with scheduling anything with regard to prophecies. Divination is a bit more useful in seeing things in the near future, but not centuries down the road. Even with immortality, it's better to live in the present, if at all possible," she acknowledged.

Ciaran and Neasa waved to Konrad. "Hello, Konrad. We know each other well enough," she answered with a smile.

Given the nature of the conversation, the male selkie opted to lighten it a bit. "I assume Horatio has something planned that will wow us, huh?" he asked. "Something not too serious, I take it?"

[Karl the Mad]

Marius was glad to be alone with his thoughts, and he distracted himself with the designs of the machines, imagining how he might create different ones to suit his own abilities. Larger tables, for one, sturdier materials and the like. Everything much faster too, of course.

The tangent was suitably calming, and when Alora appeared he was able to smile gratefully and accept the offered drink. "He doesn't need to apologize, you were only doing what you were paid to do," he replied with a shrug, sipping from the glass and sighing. "Not so long ago I would have held a grudge over it from now til Armageddon, but... but one could argue Armageddon already happened, no?"

He sipped again and looked away. "None of it was easy, and under ordinary circumstances I feel as if I'd still be stuck in some nasty rut. But the Pride Wars, and my fleeing to Mars... it gave me perspective, you might say. Certainly it gave me a reprieve from the Noise, for whatever reason; it went quiet the whole time I was up there, and didn't return until two days after I was back in Hope. Maybe that's what I needed to progress as I have."

He looked back to Alora, and admired the way the light reflected off her scales. "If anyone should be offering apologies, it's me. I did threaten your spymaster indirectly, after all. But it doesn't seem as if anyone's taken offense, so perhaps it's best to just let it go?"

-------------------------

Abraham nodded gravely. "It was not I who asked, but thank you anyway," he replied, putting a hand on his chest and bowing slightly. Unwittingly, he mirrored the similar gesture Liddane gave to the seer all that time back, in the cornfield of flyover America. He straightened and fingered the medallion in his hand, looking down at it. "I have much to think about as it is, any prophecies of yours would only clutter it all up."

Noticing the gesture, Charles cocked his head to one side, putting a hand on his man's shoulder. "Been a while since I seen ya fondlin' that ol' thing, Abe, y'all good?"

"Yes, yes, I am fine," the swarthy operative replied with a shrug, putting the necklace back around his neck again and tucking it back beneath his shirt. "I was just deciding on my focus for tonight's sleep walking, is all. I was advised to pick something of value to myself, after all, and a simple gun did not feel sufficient."

"Eh, makes sense," Charles agreed. "Mine's an ol' bullet they pried outta me arm back in th' day, hung it onna chain 'n everythin'."

[IamLEAM1983]

Alora smiled and nodded back. "Perhaps. Considering our improved rapport, it seemed prudent to not simply assume water had flown, so to speak."

Azazel had joined them in the interim and had chosen to hover a ways away from Marius and Alora, working enough nerve to sidle in politely. "Is it weird if I say you don't look or sound much like Mister Grimley?" he asked. "I'm, uh, I'm Azazel, by the way. I know about your people from my, er, intel briefs, before the McConmaras and Allocer freed me."

She nodded and smiled. "Don't worry about it, Azazel - this is a frequent question for us. We're used to it. The simplest answer I could give is that foresight and madness can take on all sorts of forms. Some of us Freaks are physically deformed, but only a little wiser than most; with a slightly... looser sense of humour. I personally delight in seeing people squirm, but only insofar as it's part of the act. There's also some joy in how my appearance subverts expectations. As to how my gifts differ, well - I see glimpses of what could be at the favor of a few drops of blood. Horatio's is more of a formless source of insight; mine is rooted in the senses."

The reformed demon still felt strangely young, despite his aeons of life. "So it's sort of a kink, then?
- Sort of," confirmed Alora with a daintily-fanged smirk. "Konrad sees misfortune, and I see the exact opposite. It's hard to say if it's visions or my donor's subconscious constructing something while I drink my fill, but I've never seen anything bad happen to any person I taste. I've seen everything from simple, everyday successes to absolute triumphs."

Azazel seemed a bit impressed. "What'd you see, when you created Horatio? I mean, the current one?"

The snake woman gave Marius an oblique and secretive smile. "Madness. Pure, unfettered lunacy - but not in the sense that's bandied about by Monsieur Marinos' enemies."

She looked back to Vlastos. "You're Alexandrian, aren't you?" she asked, the question seeming more like a lead-in than anything she was actually asking him. "Horatio remembers dancing for Selene, the Greek moon goddess - and he's nowhere near old enough to have formed those memories natively."

Azazel filled things in to a degree. "So, you're like poets or playwrights..."

Only then did Alora's smile turn slightly off-kilter, her eyes opening just a smidge too widely. "Keepers and singers of unutterable things," she said, "watchers over the mercurial, the melancholic, the driven and the passionate... All shades of madness to the layperson. You have to be a little barmy to make your business out of keeping secrets, and even crazier still to find joy in it after over three thousand years. That's Horatio's madness, Azazel - joy. Pure, boundless joy. They almost took it from him during the War, almost changed us for the worst - but your friends saved us in saving him."

The Faun nodded. "So it's like a Fae Mantle, then. Does that mean someone else could replace people like Marius or Enlil?"

Alana gave Marius a smirk and a chuckle. "It's likely he's already replaced some other candidate, actually. Bloodlines spread like a slime mold, and not every thread is fruitful..."

* * *

Konrad nodded, a bit of a smile adding some warmth to a stern expression. "Good man, good man - besides, you shouldn't always listen to the old, decrepit Whiteface who doesn't even remember the color of his own skin, eh?" he asked, chuckling in a way that could've been equally sympathetic or menacing.

Charles' comment made him smile and fidget on his stool. "Ah - a nicely-contrived jape at Lady Death herself, if I may say so, Mister Jenkins. She'll take you yet, I reckon, but on your terms alone."

Considering Horatio's plans, the clown settled with a pensive grunt reserved for Ciaran. "I'll confess this is one instance where I find myself wondering if you'll think this to be in good taste, young man. I see glimpses of good humour in the betentacled patriarch, but we of the Circus wouldn't be where we find ourselves today if we hadn't eaten our share of rotten eggs and fruit thrown from the bleachers..."

Hearing this, Nereus nodded to Meris as he included Konrad. "I'm sure it'll be fine - Meris and I are good sports about our respective travails. I'll be more than happy to laugh at myself if the need arises, believe me. After centuries of plotting against these newfound friends and saviors of ours by force, I'll welcome any chance to point fingers at the absurdity of it all - and even the best parts."

That surprised Herbert, who'd been listening in. "The former Augur would welcome mocking callbacks to his formative romance? This certainly seems odd, if I may say so."

Nereus shrugged as he looked back to Meris. "One of these days, sometime after supper, I'll pretend like I don't know you," he told her. "Like we're sitting at a bar or something like that. I'll poke and prod at your job, your interests - and I'll act like I'm just some architect with a few extra appendages. I'll pretend-buy you a few drinks, comment on the local news, land a few jokes... See where that takes us. Just every inch of the good, simple, honest courtship that should've been ours."

He looked back to Herbert to explain his reasoning. "I met Meris in circumstances I wouldn't wish on anyone. If I had the power to do things over properly, I absolutely would."

Confusion was a brief glimmer in Wormsworth's eyes, before his Vice and Virtue brought him clarity. Of course, Nereus' sense of pride had loftier ambitions than what had actually transpired. Loftier, yes - but also refreshingly mundane. That made him smile.

"Then, if I might, I could offer you recommendations for your real and fictitious first date. The Last Round cleans up well enough on Thursday nights, and you've met the proprietors."

[TennyoCeres84]

Meris smiled at Herbert's suggestion for a location for a first date of sorts. "That sounds like a wonderful place for a first date. I'm sure Coach and Aspasia will have no issues with helping make it a meaningful occasion," she mused.

She looked back to Ciaran, Neasa, and Konrad. "Also, after a few centuries, it's easier to look back at events with more clarity. Laughter can push away the dark clouds of despair away. With Nereus' return, we're getting a second chance to form new memories. The ones we made back then are important, no doubt of that, but we've been gifted a new beginning of sorts."

The male selkie still seemed a little uncertain, but he nodded with a tight smile. "If that's the case, then I hope what Horatio has planned brings us some levity."

Neasa smiled. "After everything that's happened, we all need to have some fun and enjoy ourselves."

Aislinn was the last McConmara to arrive, with Tom near her. She had put her suspicions toward Tom on pause for the time being in order to enjoy Horatio's event with the Archmage and former Augur.

[Karl the Mad]

The last time Marius had been near Azazel, he had been forced to reckon with his curse, with irrational blame he could only alleviate through forced indifference and neglect. Curious, he waited for the effect to take hold again, and when it didn't, he wondered at it. More fallout from Ephesian's downfall?

"I am indeed Alexandrian," he confirmed for Alana. "I was there for the halcyon days of the great Library, in fact." It was part of why he liked to insist he was merely a librarian when confronted these days.

At the suggestion of being replaced, he could only scoff. "Replace me in what, exactly? As a progenitor, the origin of some new bloodline?" He made a dismissive gesture with his fingers. "I haven't sired enough striplings to know for sure what sort of influence my blood might have, to be honest. But I'd be lying if I denied having thought about it, and I can certainly guess..." He folded his hands together in the manner of a teacher or lecturer, an eager smile on his face at the prospect of explaining something. "I was turned by Victum himself, of course, over two thousand years ago. The angels' curse and the Weavers' influence have had their influence on me over that time, and quite a profound influence it was. So any bloodline of mine would have to cultivate for some generations, to remove from the Noise, but in that time... in that time I feel they would find a talent for sneaking, for obfuscation and for being forgotten. And they might find a kinship with the Weavers as well, for better or for worse. I have some talent for magic and sorcery, too, for the pursuit of knowledge, and that may pass on as well, thought it would be hard to say from here."

----------------------------

"Y'all two jus' fulla jokes 'n pranks 'n shit," Charles remarked, looking impressed as he regarded Nereus and Meris in their plotting. He couldn't help but cackle just a little. "Sure hope I c'n 'elp out!"

"We were certainly an assistance in the last joke," Abraham noted with a smile of his own.