The Abbey

[Vanitypirate]

The capability to forgive.

The words held a greater weight when one knew the tragic context behind it: how Grace had arrived initially to bring justice with her, what she had endured since then from ex-lovers and failed expeditions and the trials that came along with the position of Head of the Abbey. Ages ago, she was pulling the vestal out from the rain, stumbling across her as she drew her sword across herself-- that was a different person than the one who had arrived off of that stagecoach, and a much more different person than the one that stood at the podium then.

It looked as though learning to forgive, and learning to heal, had lifted a dark cloud off from over Grace. And such a lesson could not have come at a more convenient time.

There was the matter of that Crow-gazer, mechanical and calculating, the shadow Lekalis had shed for Tilly's sake. She had demonstrated her callousness time and time again, be it in the way she spoke and moved, to how she'd abandoned her in the Weald-- even more telling, the way she hastened to mutilate Roderick. For all of her education, the good doctor was like all the other academics Tilly had come across during her time in the Hamlet: an animal without a shred of empathy, having only a single purpose...

But was that something that could be helped?

Nonetheless, she followed suit as Blood applauded, bringing her own hands together-- elbows pressing the tall crown of her hat downwards, and safely out of the way of her hands-- to clap along with him and the others who joined.

That was, until she felt the telltale dribble from her nose.

She scarcely had time to respond before Blood had sliced out a patch of cloak for her sake, and as her lips parted to protest, the fabric had been stuffed unceremoniously up her nostril.

"Good heavens!" A rather fitting exclamation, given the setting and event, in surprise; her gloved hand moved to cup politely about her nose as the other shifted the silk, certainly one of the most expensive nose-rags she'd come across, to a more comfortable angle-- and also to take it up into her own hands, lest Lekalis walk about connected to her nose just so.

"I'm quite alright." She quirked a smile at his rather dire-looking expression as she assumed control of the piece of cloak, and stood, making as well to hoist him up as she curled her fingers loosely around his wrist. "...Your cloak, though; you shouldn't have done that. It's sentimental." She sighed, almost guiltily as she looked to him, and promised,
"I'll hold onto this, stitch it back on when we've got the time and thread..."

And then she continued,

"S'a bloody nose; haven't had any since I was a child." Tilly gave a short, sheepish chuckle, eyes briefly meeting the robed woman who appeared to have been approaching. A rather unideal situation to be presented with as a first impression.

"Nothing to fret over." She shrugged her bony shoulders and smiled a rather bloody smile at him, despite it all.

[relentless]

As the guests of the sermon began to depart, raising from their seats and discuss within the dimly lit area, a faint breath of air lapsed through the abbey doors as it was opened by other passerbys. Torches flickered, yet the cold was quickly shut off. Besides that, the area was quite pleasant.

For some, anyway.

Where Libourg usually sat upon the pew, which was usually at the front, he remained. Leaned back against the pew, his silk shirt speckled with the blood of his brother, and his dry bloodied sling resting against his abdomen, he had his head resting on the back of the pew; eyes closed and breathing slowly as he welcomed the calm of the Abbey.

A tranquilty, a way to forget what he had done... the sin, he had commited. Ridding a brother of his swordarm, rendering it useless and only fit to lift a mug of ale. A folly on Libourgs part yet again.

Trouble always followed this man. Bad luck was his middle name, and it seemed it would stay that way.

[Outisakanobody]

Grace flushed, not expecting any kind of reaction like this. She honestly did not know what to do now, as she had simply expected to leave the Abbey en mass. She awkwardly stood at the front of the room, smiling with discomfort.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Lekalis/

"A-are you sure..?" He asked, as he let his hands pull away; his eyes scanning her features in an attempt to divine some sort of medical prognosis. He truly hadn't the mind for such an endeavour, and the Amulet's own frightful curse was all but spontaneous to him. She hadn't worn the item, and... it was no ludicrous spillage of blood, 'aught but a bloody nose, surely.

And yet, his gut, his core, his soul seemed to writhe in the fret she told him not to let run over him. He rose, his hands cupping her knees for a moment before relinquishing their grip to assist himself in rising, he looked about the pews for any prying faces; only to spy an approaching, curiously platinum-scalped woman.
He knew it was no looming phantomous Paer; but he felt a familiar paranoia curse his fingers to twitch, wanting to draw his blade and spear. She seemed... Doctorly, yet held a dignity that begat a woman of the cloth.
Neither of which were something he found himself desirous of.

With a nervous raise of his hand, he flashed a smile and looked back to attending to Tilly's nasal hemorrhage. Or, rather, fussing over it with fluttering hands; playing between intimate grazes of the cheek and haphazard tugging over her collar, to see if any blood had trickled down to stain it.
Neither proved fruitful, and he couldn't yet scry just how readily the blood from her nose was flowing, no thanks to the red of the silk.
"... R-right, just... Don't be harboring any demons in you, yeah? Heard our dear Sermonist isn't the kindest to those sort..." He jested quietly, as his hands slowed, and he jabbed her sternum lightly with a pristine finger, reclaiming some grace, as he ran a hand through his hair, and looked to the door; attendants filtering out in frustrating slowness.

"...Too soon?" He realized, offering an apologetic smile, before looking over his shoulder, again, to the approaching Maria.
He jerked his head at her, as he looked to Tilly.
"One of your friends?" He asked, as he squinted at her eyes, then her mouth and ears. With a mother-hen's cluck of a tongue, he pulled up the cuff of his sleeve to wipe away some of the blood that had only just grazed her upper lip.

//

~Tilly~

Tilly's nose would feel normal, given the memory of her childhood. Though her blood would be pumping with some frightful intensity, despite her relaxed nature. As though she'd run a mile.
But she was not want for breath.

"...child." Echoed in her mind, her own voice twisting in that echo, to a chorus of a thousand whispers.
"Nothing..?" it echoed again, the whispers coming in full, though it twisted and a woman's voice, then a man's, and several others chimed in, in curiosity.

A distant humm only barely veiled the noise of the quiet Abbey and the voices speaking to her...

~~

[Vanitypirate]

"Hmm..."

Tilly ran a hand over her forehead and blinked hard a moment, as if to reign in her senses in the face of the odd effects.
She certainly wasn't sure; indeed, it felt like the incipient stages of an oncoming faint.

"Perhaps... it may be a good idea to sit down, I'd think." She nodded, and was quick to snatch up her hat off the pew and plant it on her blonde head.

The next step was to plan their escape, and while she would have much liked some fresh air, there was a troublesome amount of church-goers bogging up at the exit that would have impeded their retreat from the abbey foyer.
But there was the bathhouse, and Lekalis' own 'sanctuary' he'd shown her the day before, and so she started in that direction, tapping briefly on Blood's arm as she began to walk, weaving her way through the departing crowd. Regrettably, she'd be missing out on what conversation the white-haired woman could have offered.

"Aha, I'd never..."

She tugged on the brim of her hat a moment, pressing that silk to her nose, furrowing her brow and looking fearly to Lekalis as the chorus rang out in her head. The sensation wasn't new-- she'd been in the face of it before, and it never bode good will.

Either she was going mad, or there was something more malevolent at play. And if she were to be a victim to either one, she would not embarrass herself by allowing it to happen in the middle of a crowd.

She walked more briskly in the direction of the bathhouse.

[Outisakanobody]

"Well that was nice, hmm?" Celeste asks as she looks to Lib after the sermon, clapping politely. She decides to try and talk with Grace at some point later.

\\

Grace suddenly saw the familiar scarecrow like form of Tilly beating her retreat and her features instantly brightened as she bolted after her. "Tilly!" she shouted, probably too loudly as she caught the girl by the shoulders to stop her escape.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Lekalis/

He watched her rise, and depart, dumbstruck; his gut churning as he tried to piece together some alternative, perhaps the claustrophobia? There were many persons set inside the Abbey, perhaps it was stiffling for her? She never took off that coat, it was true. So thickly padded, it was a wonder she didn't fall under the affects of heat more often.

Yet he followed diligently, rising, and pursuing before she was suddenly taken by the shoulders by Grace herself; he supposed he should have expected it, but with the burdgening paranoia... He felt a bloody rise in his gut as he stepped forward and placed a hand on Grace's sternum, applying a stern modicum of pressure, as he tried to garner some freedom for Tilly.

"Ah-heh, apologies; we've need to clean ourselves up--" He explained, looking to Grace with a risen brow, doubly raising the bloodied cuff of his sleeve.
"--Had a touch of a bloody nose. Lovely sermon, you know?" The Ex-Lord's tone was uppity, hasty, as he tried to nudge Tilly along with due haste. Worriedly glancing over his shoulder, all too aware of how swiftly a popular brow can gather a crowd.
Much less, a (while brown and a touch sodden) crown.

~Tilly~

While the sensation did little to abate, it seemed to stagnate; a wriggling sensation in the back of her mind, as though her head was slowly being submerged. It was... unnervingly soothsome, a cold wetness seeming to expand from the back of her head.

"Tilly..?" The echoes intensified, and seemed to emenate from that backmost part of her mind; absorbing the tone and measure of Grace's voice. Words, phrases, faces of memories long past came to the surface of Grace; almost overwhelming the immediate moment.
The sensation passed in a matter of moments; that rush of memories. A veritable monsoon, that came as swiftly as it went.

The light-headedness seemed to sooth, though the wetness inside her skin seemed only to spread like tendrils of some parasite. Bleeding into her nerves and mind.

The impromptu silken hankerchief began to feel heavy, though the bleeding seemed to clot.

~~

[relentless]

Libourg flinched for a moment as Celeste addressed him, followed by the sudden uproar of applause. He shook his head and opened his eyes, seeing that the sermon had ended. He had listened to her words briefly, however he spent the time reflecting on his actions, the good ones to cloud over the bad ones.

"O-oh, it was, yes. A splendid speech.."
Libourg replies in a tired manner, looking down at his injury arm and giving it a lift, wincing as he did so. It'd take a good bit until this would heal, but with his vow to Celeste to prevent himself from going on expeditions, he wouldn't have to worry all that much.

Unless things took a turn for the worse that is.

"Mmm... A wise woman. I hope you gathered some of her wisdom, hm?"
Libourg says as he turns his head toward Celeste with a pivot, staring at her with half lid eyes that were lazy, along with his posture adding to that.

[Vanitypirate]

This was all rather abnormal, come to admit.

The words, the echos, the sensations all melded overwhelmingly together. Something stopped her-- it was Grace, a typically welcome sight-- but she had a much more stronger call to flee the scene and escape the onslaught of this bloody nose and all its accessories.

She rose a palm, squinting her eyes closed a moment, as if to gather her bearings. She pressed the rag up closer to her nose in an effort to salvage what absorbency it had left, and spoke to the vestal after a moment.

"Ah, p-pardon!" She managed a queasy smile, though she seemed distracted, and perhaps a bit distant, as she backpedaled and made to squirm out of her grip, what with Lekalis keeping her at bay.
"Fabulous sermon-- really! But I'm managing a crisis here, y'see? I'm about to bleed all over my shirt."

She gave a hasty nod, her hat bobbing along with the motions, as she drifted to the archway that would lead to the bathhouse,

"I'll come by later tonight, promise? I'll bring wine!" She vowed; her words came quickly as she beat a hasty retreat.

[Outisakanobody]

"Mmm...takes a very strong person to forgive so easily. You can understand why I would be...upset with a few people in this hamlet..." Celeste says, looking at the ground as people began milling about.

\\

"Wh-Tilly? What happned? Are you alright? Tilly!" Grace says, quite agitated by the sight of blood coming from her obsession. Despite the ques and verbal prompts, she still made to follow Tilly, intent of offering some kind of aid, assuming she was injured in some sort of way and wishing to apply her skill and knowledge to the situation.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Lekalis/

The Ex-Lord hummed and sighed; some part of him concedeing to let Grace follow, though he made sure that she wouldn't impede his Dearest. He pulled his hands back,though he held them out, attempting to imply some level of halt to the Vestal; even if, as he looked into her eyes, he saw a fanatacism that surpassed her own Light.
"I-It's 'aught but a bloody nose, from the heat, the dust--" Lekalis twirled a finger in the air as he kept pace with Tilly, dancing forward to catch the door of the Bath-house and opened it kindly, giving Tilly an exasperated, but light-hearted and amused look.

Keeping a sanguine mind, for the time, would be best. There's no need for excess worry, after all... He was rather amused, now, as he realized how much hubbub began to sprout from his own worrying. There was an irony in this, and the humor wasn't unfound on him as a small laugh escaped his lips; just as much as a little 'Sorry' did, as he'd passed Tilly to open the door.

"--Ah, Spring, as well." He mentioned with a final flourish of the hand, as he rested his hand on his belt, hooking a thumb into the leather strap.

~Tilly~

What happened? , the words became... unspoken, the echo. It became less a reverberation and more an innate sense. The words coming to mind without any whispers now, and the cooling sensation seemed to vanish; or rather, utterly encapsulate her mind.

The blood in her veins slowed, calming from its rebellious nature 'aught but seconds before, and her nostrils seemed to clot, at last. Albeit, there was a signature fall-back, as excess blood trickled down her throat. A vile, invasive sensation.

~~

//

[Vanitypirate]

That was the question, wasn't it? What happened?

She hadn't thought of anything she'd done that would logically evoke such a sensation, nothing she'd eaten or any fellow she'd come across-- there was not even anything Dr. Chandler could've spiked, albeit he could've pricked her with some dastardly needle on her way out as some sort of retribution. It was true, he could have done that-- but why? On the eve of their expedition that he'd wanted so badly, no less.

So what else?

She bowed her head, if only to encourage the flow of blood out her nose rather than down her throat, which wrought an uncomfortable shiver from her as she sidestepped into the modest bathhouse.

It was always the bathhouse, she had come to realize.

"I... don't know." She admitted, a blanket response, with careful deliberation, in the face of it all.

[Outisakanobody]

Grace largely ignored Blood, as per usual for her. She never really liked him and his getting between her and Tilly. She'd follow Tilly with great determination, even if people tried to stop her. "Let me look at you then. And do not tilt your head back. You might become nauseous." she advised.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

==

/Lekalis/

He rose a brow; watching as Grace pushed on brusquely. He felt agitation, though it was just as easily squashed by the fact that it was almost to be expected. Albeit, even if it brought frustration unto itself, it was something he could swallow easier.

Though, it didn't stop him from gesticulating behind Grace's back; looking to Tilly with no exasperation spared, as he flapped his arms at his side in disbelief, raising his brows as he motioned to Grace, before assuming a position beside Tilly yet again, eyeing Grace with some skepticism.

Inwardly, however, he worried that she might divine such a cursed nature... If such a situation arose... Well, he supposed it'd be unlikely she could trace it back to him, could she? Or the Amulet? He'd only seen her powers exercised to heal a scratch on Tilly's nose. And she seemed to pride herself chiefly on physical endeavours... Nothing so intricate as the research conducted by Florence and the hired arcanists.

Lekalis chuckled and shook his head, raising a brow, as he watched Grace's hands and investigation;
"It's just a bloody nose, Grace..." He reiterated with a sigh, rolling his eyes before turning about and seeing to acquiring a rag from one of the nearby basins, and wetting it.

There seemed to be some recent activity to boot; he remembered to check in on Hook, hopefully some goodly folk would pay... Though he wasn't holding his breath.

//

~Tilly~

The pulsing would intensify, and, for the briefest of moments, there was a red flicker that wove past her eyes, inwardly, she would see it. Yet, outwardly, there seemed to be 'aught wrong besides a flush to her cheeks and nose, and the slowly clotting nose.

There was a stirring, now, within Tilly's guts; her muscles seeming to betray her for a moment, as they clenched and released; feeling her stomach, intestines. As though someone were groping her abdomen.

It was only then, that she may realize a Third Figure accompanying Lekalis, and Grace. A tall, looming shape of sharp edges and blood red hue. A man in a hooded robe, though stretched to disproportional lengths, striking something more geometric than biological in silhouette.
A pale ivory mask, and a starkly red gem, at the core of its mask; looked down at Tilly.

Narry, beyond her, it seemed, as bloody strands danced in vaarying states of strain and slack; the stimulations in her guts undeniably, and... literally, for all Tilly could divine, connected.

A pale substance was slowly being extracted from it all. Some creamy hue being milked from her very womb; while shapeless at first, a sphere was slowly being shaped before her eyes, amidst the countless bloody strands that yet still stirred her stomach.

For all of this, 'aught would look the same on Tilly's person besides a flicker of a crimson glint in her eyes, what was little more than a glimmer of the torchlight.

~~
//

[Vanitypirate]

Tilly held her breath, what with those invisible, probing fingers, and just about doubled over, elbows pressed to either flank.

It had to be poison-- she couldn't think of anything else, though she'd never rightly been poisoned before. That is, outside of Geralf, but nothing he'd done had ever caused her nose to bleed quite like this. And there was that Doctor East, too; he'd just about threatened her, and she'd certainly been bitten by a large share of spiders.

She stared forward with wide eyes at this Third Figure, her gaze drawn to its crimson oculus.

There were more unsettling glances between Blood, who'd amusingly settled back into normalcy almost on cue with Grace's alarm, and the vestal. Had anyone else seen this manifestation? She couldn't explain it; this figure was unnatural and stark to look at.

"I... don't suppose either of you are seeing this, then?"

She was quiet, almost at a breathy whisper, as she watched the mold before her eyes.