The Abbey

[The Carrying Blade]

The little worried trio sadly did not leave as quietely as Tilly and Blood would've hoped. The head of the Abbey and Sermon following and being a mother hen drew its own attention. Thankfully few talked about it, even less stared, and the rest went about their business as usual.

To Adonis however, he was one of the few who stared and watched the trio leave, heading to the bathhouse if he remembered correctly. His eyes were drawn to Maria however who was the only one still moving as if to follow. He was curious, and so he went to date it by talking to the woman.

"Hello there, ma'am, do you know any of those three that left? Specifically personally would be welcome but if you know only rumors or such I would like to hear those too." Adonis said kindly.

[Outisakanobody]

Grace was only further frightened by Tilly doubling over, clutching her sides and staring into open air, mumbling to herself. Suddenly the panic that had been a small inkling was rising, like a cold stone in the pit of her own stomach. "Tilly, what is wrong? Tell me what is wrong. I need to know what you are feeling to help you." Grace says, moving in front of Tilly and placing her hand's on the woman's face to look her over better. Her tone was more calm now, as it seemed she had an actual patient to take care of at the moment, she had to put her emotions aside.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Lekalis/

He winced, as Tilly muttered the words; he didn't chalk it up to lunacy or humor, as he'd spoken those same words quietly to himself countless times, as he now wringed the rag of excess water and busied himself by staring down into the watery reflection.

To know that he'd so damned someone so dear... All the levity of the sermon, it could have changed his entire view of Life, and this singular fact. This moment alone, would bring him back to where he was now. Staring at his murky reflection in the basin of a bath.
How was he to tell her..? Could he even tell her? Was she better off... Not knowing?
The questions added fuel to a relentless fire, as he chewed on his lower lip, and put an ever kind smile about his features as he turned about to face the fruits of his failure.

The Ex-Lord kept quiet, as he watched Grace assume some level of care that he knew he could not, as per his most recent admittance. He held no preference over Grace, despite her otherwise uncouth actions towards him. He supposed it couldn't be helped, just as he'd an innate disposition to her sisters and brothers, and her contrasting doctorly academics; she may very well have just a disalignment to his own ilk.
It was... almost reassuring, to know some still yet looked at him as the old rumors had painted him out to be.

He stood, a bit awkwardly; holding the rag out in half-wise offering to the occupied individuals. Standing off to the side of Tilly, with his head bowed.
"... There is only us, Tilly. Look at Grace; tell her what you see..?" He offered some assistance to Grace's inquisition, as he hoped for some delirious fever-dream. Though prepared to hear his nightmare.

~Tilly~

A distant whine began to swell; and slowly... voices, from this reality. A drip from a distant basin, as Lekalis wrung out the water from a towel. His foot steps cutting into her ears.
The Third Figure paused, the strands, now given such observation; were more like veins, retreated from Tilly's core. Or... Did they go back to her? Their coiling, slipping motions moved in utter silence, as The Third Figure stared at the singular cream hued sphere; glowing in some astral glow. Reflecting off its so-said crimson oculus.
Grace's words were all too clear, as was her breath. Blood's breath, and soon... the voices outside, the small wind, a thousand tiny huffs and puffs; so easy to expunge.
"See... This. What... is Feeling. Rumors? This. " More whispers pieced together by countless voices, melding together like rain made of a thousand needles.
Though, yet did not reflect off any corporeal surface: neither the wet cobblestones below nor the skin of her fellow fleshly compatriots.

Something stirred within that cream sphere, slightly transluscent, sides a barely percievable swirl of brilliant white. It moved, like ourborous, though at its tail, it peeled away and still yet stuck to Tilly's gut, her womb.
"Tilly... Lekalis. You. Specifically... Three?" came the whispers again, like white hot daggers; her memories were combed with them. It was a searing pain, but nothing overwhelming.

Yet, as she peered into that Red Gem; with that pale glimmering sphere glistening on its perfectly cut edges; she would see yet more memories, from her own past bleeding out from it. The perfect diamondly teardrop shape warbling and expanding; the red bleeding out, and the Third Figure's form shifting.

Only now, did it seem to realize Tilly. Where the Gem had once been peering into the pearlescant sphere, it now moved, its body writhing, the robe was not made of hemp or silk... Rather, blood made manifest in such a simple shape that now seemed too perfect. Its edges so sharp that it cut into the very fabricks of her sight as she saw it.

The Third Figure did stare back at Tilly, and... For a brief moment, all was quiet.
Then, a small humm, a funeral's tune; for what felt like hours, passed in seconds. And the thousands of whispers came in a relentless downpour of sound: rain upon metal. Screams, whispers, moans and groans and idle chatter all fell into one indistinquishable flurry of noise.
Faces came next; too fast to see, yet all consumed her sight, the Third Figure no more a rational shape; but an amalglamation of countless.
Red... As though she were drowning, yet she could breath and feel nothing but normality: she saw 'aught but a rushing Bloody Ocean all around her. The faces all agape in awe, as hands slowly dragged themselves out from the all pervasive Red.

And then it vanished.

There was 'aught but reality laid before her. Sound and sight and sense were all hers again; the invasive sensation of drowning water was gone.
"You are fine." Was the last, and final whisper that came through.

It was only now that a small droplet of blood slid out from Tilly's left most eye, and ear. Her eyes would appear bloodshot, but only for a moment, as they seemed to recede just as quickly as they'd flared up.

Yet, one sensation remained; that immaleable last, ivory tether to the now vanished sphere, still seemed apparent. Perhaps not in any immediate vein of vision, yet some ethereal bind... A tightness in her womb, where that ourborous did still stir in her guts. A spark, from two embers of a dying light.

~~

//

[Vanitypirate]

There were not enough words in the world to describe what she had just seen, to tell Grace what was wrong.

Outwardly, she was stuck still, and did not fidget. Both arms clamped to her sides, doubled over in such a way, as if overcome with some rather intense sort of stomach cramp. She clutched that damp silk rag in her hand and stared forward with terrified eyes, although the bleeding from the nostrils thankfully seemed to have quelled-- although she wasn't entirely present enough in that moment to protest if it had started up again.

There were bigger things at play.

Tilly didn't know this Vision, this unnameable. The creature was quite unlike anything she'd met before, be it in the dungeons or in the Hamlet. It, like many other of the machinations of this Estate, defied the logic she knew, but that was not an unusual thing. What was unusual was the different angle this Vision took, and that vile invasion of her senses and being. It was not of sane material, not on this particular world. The flurry of noise and sights and hums was all but overwhelming, this ocean torrent of Red that she had become lost in-- she only distantly recognized it as the Third Figure she'd seen.

Three...

The Vision vanished much more rapidly than it had appeared, the scarlet curtain between herself and the material world unveiling itself once more. The sound, the sights, her senses were hers, like coming up for a breath of air after having been swimming in a current for a time. But, according to this spirit, she was 'fine.'

Three.

The flood of the world, the rawness of it, was staggering enough on its own. There was Grace's face with that stern expression she recognized from a time that seemed veritably archaic to then. Her hand burned like fire on her face, that dripping of the rag from Lekalis' hand were like individual blasts of gunpowder, frightening, thundering noises and feelings that marked her transition from the abstract to the corporeal.

Frustration welled up in place of fear, looking at them now, her lover and her oldest friend. What was she meant to tell them? That she had hallucinated a monster in this very room, that this spirit is what made her nose bleed and her gut tense just so. And of that feeling, too, that lingering one-- she knew what it was, indeed. She knew quite exactly what that was, that spark, and it made her feel ill.

Her jaw opened ajar, partways, and closed shut again, as if to speak and then deciding against it.

It was too much, all at once, as it seemed to have always been. There was no relenting or pause between these events, death and life and death again, joy and misery and back to joy, that maddening and ceaseless cycle of positive and negative, positive and negative. Just when things seemed to have been looking up, there were fouler things lying in wait to bring her lower, and this was another foul thing, as was Roderick's passing, as with this new passenger she had, as with--

She trembled, taking a breath, and smeared away those miniscule droplets of blood that tickled her face with careless regard to the state of stainage of her gloves.

"I need a moment."

Her clammy fingers coiled loosely around the vestal's hands in a move to pull them away from her face.

She needed time to think, not only to process what she'd witness, but to discern how, and what, to disclose to Grace, to Lekalis.

She rolled her shoulders and held up a finger, side-stepping to avoid Lekalis as she made a slow stroll to one of the benches.

"J-just... let me have a moment, please. Thank you."

[Outisakanobody]

"Tilly' you are still bleeding!" Grace protested, though that was probably less worrying than her strange expression and mannerisms. Thevestal simply tried tohelp Tilly over to a bench, as getting her off her feet seemed like a prudent move. She also wiped at the trickles of blood, also uncaring of how it would effect her wardrobe. "Tilly....just tell me what is going on, please." Grace begged, hating the feeling of helplessness she suddenly was assaulted by.

[Kidney]

Tod liked the applause, the others felt the same about the well done sermon. But now Tod moved quickly towards the doors, and soon he heard the mumbling of the crowd. He thought about alerting his senses, but the thought seemed wrong at the moment, like he was invading privacy held dear. He heard the sound of voices near, and stopped to look at Blood and two others. One appeared to be Grace, who he hadn't spoke to in quite some time, who at the moment crowded the other woman. One with a pointy hat and red on her face.
Tod reached for his crucifix for a moment, That sensation, the longing for clarity. He refused this urge, but he sat, looking at the situation. Should someone from the confrontation see him, they would see concern, but now he turned, exiting the Abbey hurriedly.

[relentless]

"It does... But it takes greater strength to bring justice to those, even if they're you're friend or allie. A balance, if you will... Equality of the law surrounding all the denizens of this mound of rock we reside upon."
Libourg replies in calm, gentle whispers as he stared into the flame of a lone candle beside the altar. The flames licked across the air, dancing around and glimmering in Libourgs blue iris. A momentary detachment from the world preceded himself, though another question arouse in his mind.

"Does the abbey... Comfort you? Do you feel a sense of detachment from the hard world when in this holy place? Would it not be a tonic against the bloodshed that's brought to you in those confined walls known as the sanatorium?"
Libourg inquires in a dreamy tone as he continued to stare into the flame, not moving his gaze once.

[Outisakanobody]

"I've...never been very faithful. Sorry, sir knight." Celeste says as she stands. "Anyone you wish to speak to?" she then asks.

[relentless]

Libourg sways his head toward her briefly, before looking back into the candleflame. A flicker, his thoughts lost in the flame, reflecting faces of old and new. Yet there were faces there that saddened him; Roderick, Ronin and the albino antiquarian. Those he had failed, his fortune dwindled to nothing but a copper coin. Worthless, and defeated was his demeanor.

Yet on the outside, he remained blank faced, blowing a sharp, almost breathless thin stream of air through his mouth.

"..No. I'm alright."
Libourg reassures as he crosses his leg, blinking twice at the fire before he looked up to the altar.

"Back to work, are you?"

[Shinzon]

Maria simply watched as the trio left, one of her fists clenching at the sight of Grace, the lesson of peace and forgiveness slowly leaving her mind as she thought of all these wasted opportunities. No matter how long she stared into her own soul, she never found why she was so wary of the headmistress of the Abbey.

Se soon relented, as a young orphan hobbling next to the former vestal, the child wrapping an arm around her leg, pressing her cheek against it. Looking down at the miserable girl, her amputated leg making her embrace all the more tight. Passing a hand into the girl's dirty brown hair, she nodded to herself, and pulled away after crouching down and returning the embrace, facing the man who had approached her.

"Whom you saw leaving is Sister Grace, leader of the Abbey, and Tilly, the legendary adventurer - nay, the hero who stood among us for a long time now. I know not of the identity of the third man."
Gazing at the children dispersing in the Abbey with determination, she straightened her attire, and looked to the entrance. "I apologize, but I must go now. Duty calls."
And with that, she strode out of the Abbey, toward a grim fate. But, even in the face of desecration, shame, and fear, she knew that the cause was right.

[Maria is going to the Tavern.]

[Outisakanobody]

"I suppose I must..." Celeste says, sounding rather depressed about the idea as she started shuffling to the door.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Lekalis/

It was said there was an unspoken bond that was forged between a man and a woman when they intertwined themselves, shared onself to eachother in so final a pact of flesh that he and Tilly had done, some hours before nigh. He could feel this too, this... familiar, yet alien, sensation; or perhaps he simply knew, as he watched the only practical reaction to such terror. Narry, something so beyond terror such frivilous words were poppycock to describe it.

How he would have liked to broken the news to her in his own time, at his own leisure... Kept her from it all. How he wanted to lie to her now, that, perhaps, it was something in the water; the wine perhaps, was old or that the river they'd bathed in may have had some sort of... bug or parasite.
But he'd sworn to her, honesty, among others, would show his Love for her.

And it was her right, he supposed, not just as his Love, but as a friend and comrade. As a decent damned human being, to know what maladie and curse he'd ensnared her in. Again, he knew, he would beg her to love him when she would learn of it all.

For now however, as he watched her motions with a growing pit of dread in his stomach, he looked to Grace. The unknown variable to this equation, he hadn't expected an audience in such a trying time... He hadn't expected any of this, perhaps... On some pathway or the tavern or excused somehow, in private. But in company..?

How was he to distract and deviate, especially as Tilly so pleaded for privacy. Perhaps... She needed it, he'd done 'aught but hound her the last few days, with narry a breath made out of his sight.
So, as it were, he kept a respectful distance from her; caught in the throes of crowding her with reckless abandon, and maintaining a respect he held for her above mere romance.

Still, though, he accompanied her to the bench. When Tilly found herself seated, he would pluck up her hand and set the wet rag in her palm, balling it up so she might staunch the flow of blood from her nose.
The Ex-Lord looked to Grace, and motioned to the door,
"Perhaps... later. Must be a migraine; she needs some room to breathe, Grace." He reasoned quietly, calmly, as he looked to Grace, then back to Tilly. Another of his hands reaching up to prop her hat back a touch, to free up her forehead.

//

[Vanitypirate]

Tilly sat with her knees up pressed close together, shoulders curved forward in a hunch as if to shield herself, curl up into some protective ball, from the external forces in the room around her-- despite their relative mundanity. Rather, she let the voices and feelings and touching drown out while she succumbed to her own thoughts, for a time.
Subjects such as these necessitated more tact, if Tilly were to not land herself in the sanitarium again, or if she could even hope to put words to the visions and sensations she'd become subject to. So she allowed herself more time for thought and tact, even at the cost of brutishly ignore her two closest compatriots for the time being.

The fact of the matter was that she had not one shred of an idea where that Creature could have come from, robed in red and frighteningly defying all laws of the natural world Tilly had known. But events such as these were not uncommon, and she'd been victim to horrific, mind-blasting invasions before. The Vision was unlike anything she'd seen, true, but not once did she carry the notion that she had seen all the Estate had to show. But perhaps, instead, this thing was a Harbringer, of sorts? To bear a warning of what she was about to subject a third party to, in its own inhuman way. It was terribly dangerous in the Dark, after all, and only fair that she knew how she stood. The Harbringer had silk like Lekalis, too, and that damnable gem socketed in its face. Surely, it had to be related?

She was grasping at straws, she realized, but it was all she had.

Tilly moved on instinct, feeling the wetness in her hand and slowly clasping her hand around it. She pressed it up against her nose.

There was the long-term and the short-term, the more earthly things to worry about: specifically, the warning the Harbringer brought.

She could not tell Grace, she knew immediately-- at the very least, not in this moment. Tilly had no doubt that this information would spur her to impede her own expedition, and she desperately needed the gold, now more than ever, and that's if she even believed her, if she didn't immediately direct her to the sanitarium's insanity ward.

Tilly could tell Lekalis, with caution. Perhaps, cowardly on the way to the Cove, at a point when it was too late to turn back. But, conversely, he also held a shared responsibility in this, a shared right to know...
At anyrate, this knowledge was hers to keep for the time being. So she held onto it.

She rubbed an eye, straightened up, and took a breath,

"...I'm alright."

Her tongue felt like rubber in her mouth.

"Y-yes, I just had... visions, and all." She persisted, bringing the rag away so that she might talk more clearly, appear more confident,
"My nose had been bleeding, off and on, and then I felt quite odd. Then, I began to hear voices. I saw this creature in a mask, with a gem stuck in the middle of its face. I couldn't understand a damned thing he was saying. He's gone now."

She took another breath, looking between them, as they loomed over her.

"That's all I know. I don't know where it could've come from, what happened..."

[Outisakanobody]

Grace frowned deeply at Blood, not at all welcoming his efforts to shoo her away from her closest friend. "I apologize, Blood, i did not know buying a bathhouse also have you uncanny knowledge of humanphysiology." she says in an uncharacteristic snide and malicious tone.

Having warned him off for another moment, Grace went back to looking Tilly over, tilting her head this way and that to inspect all the places she had been bleeding. "Tilly...you were bleeding from your eyes and your ears as well...Perhaps you have forgotten this, but figures with jewels for faces appearing out of thin air and talking to you is not normal. Something must be done about this." Grace insisted. What that something was, she didn't really know. Grace knew very little about how the occult arts actually worked, or what to do to counter them, but that hurdle could come later. First she needed to convince her friend the seriousness of the matter at hand.

[relentless]

Libourg sighed, a moment of bliss overcame him as he was finally at ease... though he could practically smell the depressing tone from Celeste from over here. Sighing under his breath, he shuffled around, and looked back as she walked away.

"You could take the day off? With such an event occuring in the Sanatorium, perhapes they wouldn't notice you were gone?"
Libourg suggests, calling out to her as he stared at her back as she slowly walked off.