forget-me-not

[Carina]

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Ash 1 122

The door appeared as promised, and as Carina had agreed, she went through. It helped, yes, that she carried her entire world in a bag slung over her shoulders, packed with cigarettes and cocaine and ink and books and clothing and a rifle with caster shells and the other ring. She had her coat over her shoulders, but the in-between weather of Ash and Searing was pleasant now. The cursed ship awaited her, and she stepped through with no hesitation. The people she knew in Gel’Grandal were used to her disappearing for long periods of time, and maybe when she was done curse-rending she’d have a story to tell.

Imogen could have been anywhere in the world. Orks were exceedingly rare in Gel’Grandal, for some historical war reason, some vendetta reason with the Ecithian Commonwealth and the Gelerian Imperium having fought and killed and hated each other. It was unfortunate, then, that Imogen was last in Ecith, as far as she knew, and further still that she had no way to find her again. It would be hard enough returning to Zaichaer, but she didn’t suppose that Imogen would have stayed in Zaichaer after what had apparently happened to it.

It wasn’t that she had given up — no, that was why she had those rings, so this wouldn’t happen again — but she had decidedly put it on pause. If Fate or Destiny wanted to reunite them, then they would be reunited. But until then, she did not know where to start, let alone where to go. And now she had somewhere to go.

It was still morning on the ship when she stepped onto the deck of The Duck, and the newfound scent of salty sea breeze that Carina had been exposed to was a change from the smell of city that she was so accustomed. But it was the aura of the ship she was most interested in, and as if she were guiding her to it, Carina followed the mental layout into the ship and directly to her room. The ship itself was labyrinthine and changing, but she was also receptive to being known, and seemed to even try to assist Carina in her endeavor towards knowing.

The room was sparse and clean, with almost no decoration at all except for the porthole window that looked over the sea. Carina had always been minimalist, even utilitarian with her living space. It was easier to clean, and easier to abandon if needed. Since her childhood she had rarely stayed in one place for long, even rooming at the academy she had her rooms switched and changed to fit the needs of other students. The featherlight bag made life easier, and she was hesitant to part with it.

She walked out of the room having deposited her bag into the trunk. It had her name on it — and The Duck had marked the importance of the truck with the manipulation of its aura. She still wore her coat, however, and in one of the many pockets of the coat was the golden sun-ring. Even if everything else was lost, she would hold that with her. There was also, yes, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter in a more readily available pocket, and Carina stood near the railing on smooth waters with a lit cigarette in her lips.

.

[Imogen]

Sunsinger Corporal Ward had spent the better part of a night debating whether she would enter the door when it reappeared.

Doubtless, there was work to be done in Zaichaer and about Kalzasi for her order, to recover from the blow dealt to the High City in early Searing. There were leads to look into regarding Carina's location, and she still felt as though she ought to try to debrief the Sunsinger's marshal, if she could figure out where the hell he'd gotten to. Logically and logistically, there was a strong argument to make that her institutional duties would suffer if she let herself get caught up in the strange journey described by Kynne.

Unfortunately for all of these very reasonable concerns, a single consideration outshone all else; The Duck had, apparently, requested her help.

The Sunsingers did not possess a duty to aid all who requested it, of course. There were issues of payment, certain jobs which were morally or logistically objectionable. Imogen had turned down plenty of potential clients in her day, and for a host of reasons. But the ship's request felt, to her, to have been too much in earnest to ignore. Besides which, if The Duck could indeed bridge distances so instantly, discovering that mechanism might well benefit her coven more than any other labor she could perform in the interim.

So it was that when the door reappeared, Imogen had gathered a bag of her meagre belongings and changes of clothes, and marched right onto the deck of the ship.

Here, the trouble began.

"Excuse me!" Imogen said to one of the swabbies, "Where can I find the- hey! Hey, don't walk off!"

But walk off the man did. Two more of the crew, approached similarly, were just as quick to pointedly ignore the Orkhan woman. Why? It was impossible to say. Perhaps they were simply that busy, or she had identified the meanest, grumpiest members of the voyage. Perhaps they bore some sort of animus against Orks. Maybe they were just deaf?

After a few minutes of this failed endeavor, however, Imogen retreated to one of the benches located just against the aftcastle, staring at the crew going about their duties. Hopeless. If she couldn't find directions, how was she going to find lodging? Go down into the ship and look? An impossible task, to be sure. If she walked down those steps, she was going to disappear forever into the underbelly of the vessel, never again to see the sun and stars, or taste the dew of rain upon her lips.

Imogen looked up from her mild bout with panic, and noticed a figure just a few paces away- small, but dressed in the finest, most exotic coat which she'd ever laid eyes on. Not a swabbie, then. Another passenger, perhaps? Well, she had to hope.

"Excuse me!" Imogen called to the other passenger, "Do you know where the cabins are?"

[Carina]

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Carina was watching the ocean. Zaichaer was not a city with much of an ocean view, and Kalzasi was more of a bay. The docks in Gel’Grandal were a little rough around the edges, and she never found time to wander down that way. It was much different on a ship, where every sense combined, and when she wasn’t too bothered by the breeze or the bobbing. Someone else had come through the door, now, but she didn’t turn to look yet, so serene was the blue ocean.

It wasn’t until she was addressed directly that she finally turned around and looked at the— was that a familiar voice? She tucked her bangs behind her ears and looked right up — far up, her neck craned back, even as the Ork was a few steps away — into the face of Imogen. Carina flicked her cigarette behind her right into the ocean and ran up to the woman with a hug.

”Immy! You’re here too? You really are?” After a long while of separation she had missed her partner in crime, and now it was hard to believe that they had been reunited. The magic of The Duck was not to be underestimated. Carina pulled back from the hug and fumbled for the pocket that held the golden sun ring and grabbed Imogen’s hand.

”I got this for you.” She held up her own hand, with the matching, inverse ring. ”See? We’ll match now.” Without so much as a breath between or a question of whether or not Imogen wanted the ring, Carina slipped the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly. She pressed the moon ring to the sun ring.

”Now I can’t lose you again. If you will it, you’ll always know where I am, and I’ll always know where you are. And how you’re feeling. Some pair of runeforged magic rings. But it means I can know where you are and portal to you, or know if you’re hurt, or in trouble. And you’ll know if I’m hurt, or where I am, or if I’m in trouble… I bought these a while back in case we ran into each other again.”

Carina kept hold of Imogen’s hand and dragged her towards the doors that led belowdecks and into the bunk. ”Yeah, I know where they are. There should be one with your name on it. Let me see…” With Semblance, Carina followed where the ship’s aura led, and it led to the room right next to hers.

”Here.” The door itself was unmarked, but Carina just knew it was Imogen’s. She took a step back to allow Imogen to open it herself, and finally dropped the Ork’s hand with the tiniest of squeezes.

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[Imogen]

"Hello, I-" Imogen's introduction was abruptly cut off as the figure suddenly and aggressively became her best friend, "C-Carina?"

True, Imogen's first thought when she'd entered the door some days ago was that perhaps it was some work of the Railrunners, but Kynne's inexplicable manner and speech had--she thought--properly disabused her of that notion. Was it true all along, then? Had the Railrunners somehow arranged this?

"Carina!" Imogen exclaimed, disbelieving, "What are you doing here? You were supposed to be in the Imperium!"

One shouldn't think too poorly of Imogen for this stupid statement; she realized only a moment later that Carina had obviously arrived in much the same manner as herself. In any event, she had only a moment to recover her composure before Carina had literally shoved a ring onto one of Imogen's fingers. She might have protested, but it wasn't really unexpected. It had never been in Carina's nature to respect any boundaries or personal space. Besides, Imogen had to admit that the little sun-themed ring was very pretty, and fit her general theme. One couldn't protest a friend accessorizing for you, at least when they did it well.

"Oh! It's... uh, a tracking ring? I suppose? Well thank you, that's very thoughtful. It's quite pretty, how lucky that they had one with the sunburst shape!" The idea that it had been commissioned did not cross Imogen's mind, as she had never had enough money to pay any tradesman to do such a thing.

"Oh, we're going downstairs now."

~~~

Where Carina's room had been plain and utilitarian, even spartan, Imogen's cabin was bizarre.

The walls of the room were not smooth, but instead covered in vines and plants; flowers, yes, but also purple bushes and broad, leafy growths. The corner furthest from the large bed was dominated by what appeared to be a live tree growing out of the deck, offering a variety of vine-draped branches at face height. Imogen's eyelid twitched as she saw that detail, understanding at once where The Duck was drawing from. The floor of the room was solid grey tile, but the ceiling, inexplicably, appeared to be a shallow dome, depicting the night sky and phases of the moon.

At the foot of the bed was a trunk, which Imogen cautiously loaded with her bow, folded tent, and changes of clothing.

"This is such a weird ship. Carina, why is the ship so weird?"

Saying her friend's name suddenly reminded her of many other questions she'd had.

"Gods, Carina, are you okay? Did everyone make it out of the city? Did the Imperials make you wear one of those slave collars and, and, and do nude dances?"

[Carina]

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Imogen’s room was like nothing that Carina had seen before, in her life. Not at the small menageries of Zaichaer, nor in Kalzasi, nor in the other menageries of Gel’Grandal, though being there only a season she had only witnessed those animal habitats from afar, and had never found the time or coin to go in.

”It’s weird because...she is alive, and she found us.” It wasn’t nonsense, and it was true that Carina rarely spouted nonsense. She wandered open-mouthed around the room, looking at the plants and leaves and the vines and gaped at the moon dome in the ceiling. She barely had the thought to answer Imogen’s question.

”Oh, Immy, I don’t know. I wasn’t in Zaichaer. I was in Gel’Grandal. And I never had a chance to go back, yet.” Her attention finally returned to Imogen, and though she answered the first, it took her a few extra moments to realize what she had asked in the second.

”I haven’t danced. Let alone nude ones...though I did find a strange club, a door that led into a basement off the alleyway, where a woman holding a whip told me... never mind. But it seems to be the Imperial fashion to wear collars. They had a great many Avialae wearing them. Military types.”

She shrugged. ”I didn’t wear them though. But I acquired this coat,” where ‘acquired’ could mean a great many things, ”And it doesn’t let me get too cold or too hot at all. A special fabric. Great for the wind. And the heat. I think we could both fit into it.” It was a great deal oversized, the dancer practically swam in it, and Carina slipped one arm out of the sleeve and offered that half for Imogen to slip into.

”How was Ecith? How did you end up here? Did you go back to Zaichaer?”

.

[Imogen]

"Oh." Imogen responded, sounding almost disappointed that Carina had not done any exotic Imperial slave dancing, "That's good, that they didn't make you- well, it's a shame that you didn't get to do any- it's, uh..." Damn, how to gracefully disengage from this trainwreck of a statement? Ah, wait, she had it- "I'm so glad that you're okay, Carina."

The larger witch did not hesitate to accept Carina's offered coat, finding that the fabric easily stretched to accommodate her larger arm. "Heavens above, what is this made of?" The--viscosity? Was that the right word?--of the fabric gave Imogen a stealthy plan of her own and she slid her right arm around Carina's back in the guise of testing out whether the coat would fit with her hand cradling Carina's elbow. It did, though it seemed as though the Orkhan woman had, unaccountably, bulked up during the course of her erstwhile sabbatical and her forearm was nearly thrice the width of the smaller human's.

"Ecith? Ecith was..." Imogen thought back to her journey, to the weeks spent fruitlessly combing Drathera only to find that some unnamable eldritch force had erased her contact from the memory of all living things, to the days spent fighting through the jungle, sweat-soaked and wracked with fever and monster attacks, to her détente and deal with the lemurs, her encounter with the great god-beast of fire which had sent her fleeing, unable even to think, to the strange dreadmist-soaked winds she had fought. "Really beautiful, actually. I met some distant family members. Here, look at this-"

Imogen pulled her left arm around to show the ring she was already wearing, an ancient silver ring bedecked with a huge opal. "Apparently this belonged to a great-grandmother. The red dragons- uh, the city archives are run by red dragons, don't ask why- let me keep it if I promised to return it before I die. Oh! And I learned how to shapeshift-" Imogen's tail snaked around her leg to pop up in front of the two witches, waving. "-and I met this fire-monster the size of a mountain. Um, remind me later, I actually need some help involving that one."

Well, when she put it all like that, the entire affair sounded... kind of ridiculous, actually. She hoped the Sunsingers weren't going to reject her expense claims on the basis that in no world should any of that have happened on a simple meet-and-greet trip.

"I...did go back to Zaichaer, after. It's pretty bad. No- it's really bad. Most of the buildings are still standing, unless they were too close to the Presidium or the Grungeworks, but the mist storms must have killed one in three. The Sunsingers and Railrunners seemed to have mostly made it through, but the city was full of monsters. There was even a big slime thing hunting in the Pfenning, though I think that was after the staff evacuation."

That had been the bright spot, anyway. Most of the people Imogen personally knew had been close to the Sunsingers or Railrunners, and therefore able to evacuate before the worst effects of the fallout had made themselves known. That had almost been frustrating, really. She'd gotten confirmation that the Everleigh girl's fucking air officer dad had survived before she'd been sure Carina had.

"So I followed some of the refugees north to Kalzasi looking for you. I, uh, figured that, contractually, I had a duty to make sure you were safe, right."

It was a pretty dogshit excuse for blowing off the rest of her order to chase down her friend, and it sounded paper-thin even as Imogen said it.

"I paid for detectives, wrote to several spies in the Imperium, and got absolutely nowhere. Then I walked into this random-ass door and found you in ten minutes."

[Carina]

.

"Cloth of comfort, they call it. I figured you'd be okay." Carina sighed. First Vanessa, and then Anton, and Imogen again. The Zaichaeri she knew were safe.

She wasn't sure about herself. Gel'Grandal, and the flight of the Railrunners who had accompanied her, left her drifting from person to place to pocket to pharmaceutical stash. She blinked a few times as Imogen recounted her story, and then she sat down on the bed behind them, dragging Imogen down with her.

"You met dragons?" She grabbed Imogen's other-ringed hand, and looked at the giant opal. "Nice. Do you think they'll know when you die? —" She raised an eyebrow at Imogen's tail. "Ecith... I'm not sure if I'd like it there. I heard that the people are the size of trees and the trees are the size of mountains. Is that true? If there's a fire-monster that big I can only imagine."

"Grungeworks? Presidium? I wonder..." How long it had been since she had spoken to her family. Her mother was tired from younger siblings, and Carina had forced her way through the ballet academy. It had been many years since she stopped showing up. Now they could have been dead. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to feel something about that. "It must have been terrifying. I'm sorry." Carina laid back on the bed, again dragging Imogen with her. Exhaustion settled into her bones. Maybe she could've slept right there.

She turned her head fully in Imogen's direction and yawned in her face. "You know, you're not actually under contract to protect me. You weren't even officially assigned to work with me in any long-term capacity. It just kept happening, I think, because you worked at the Pfenning.." If it worked, it worked. That must have been the Coven's philosophy. "No, the other 'runners who were with me in Grandal abandoned ship when they heard what happened to Zaichaer. I'm surprised you didn't run into any of them."

Carina was not typically a clueless sort of person. "That's why I got those rings, anyway." But she was clueless. "You went to a mountain of effort there, Immy. I suppose it was sort of destiny that we'd both end up on this ship, eh? Maybe she knew we got lost."

.

[Imogen]

Imogen allowed herself to be pulled down next to Carina, lying on her side. She watched the smaller woman as she spoke, paying no attention to the yawn at all.

"Whatever, contracts are just a formality. I'm the only one who has to know what my duty is, not the rest of them."

That was true as far as it went, though her superiors probably wouldn't have favored this exact framing. Duty was a conceit meant to hold the adherent to a standard of conduct which was above petty self-interest, noble and high-minded in its pursuit. Yet the actual framework of that duty was born, inextricably, from that which the adherent felt to be good and righteous; in other words, the genesis of duty was within the heart, not merely an imposition from without.

"Honestly, I don't know what those dragons know. They're red, so they're the brood of Vicis, right? And they live beneath the temple of Galetira, so maybe they can tell the future? Whatever, joke's on them- as long as I never die, it's just a free ring. And it's very pretty..."

The Orkhan woman moved slightly, pressing up against her friend, and raised her other hand to Carina's face, displaying the sun-blazoned ring. "But not as beautiful as this one."

Imogen triggered the ring experimentally- though she was no Sembler or mind-mage, the process of using the rune-forged dwimmer was easy, practically instinctive to any rune-marked witch. She allowed the feeling of Carina's proximity to wash through her mind, and the feeling of that feeling, and the perception of the feeling. It was kind of intoxicating, like standing in a hall of mirrors and seeing yourself reflected off into a fractal infinity.

She felt herself teetering dangerously on the edge of some perceptual abyss, as though she were about to fall into Carina's chest and disappear into the unknown beyond. Grasping at her friend's last words, she pulled herself back to the moment.

"...who is she? The Duck, I mean. Can't you tell, with your..." Imogen nodded towards Carina's rune-marked eye, her face close enough to nearly bump heads. "Can you tell how all this has happened?" Carina had always been savvier than Imogen at such questions.

[Carina]

.

One thing the rings did not do was alert the other that they were being inspected. Maybe it would have been a useful feature, but they only worked with each other, and it was to be assumed that such a pairing would be consensual. And if it wasn't, there were greater issues to be had. So Carina simply watched as Imogen dove into the aura she couldn't otherwise see. There was a great deal of affection, and worry, and relief in Carina's aura when she regarded Imogen. However the Ork perceived the aura, it was clear.

Carina didn't think to do the same, despite having purchased the rings with no regard for whether or when she would find Imogen again. It was a good thing, too, because she didn't want them to get separated again — not where they couldn't find each other.

"She's sick. Or...cursed. I think that's the same thing for a ship." Carina looked to the ceiling of the room through the corner of her eye. "You know, it's sort of like... I don't know why she's here, but she was looking for people to help her, right? But I'm not sure what that all entails. It could be anything. And I'm not sure I'm so helpful. But Kynne can't leave the ship, none of the crew can. I think they're all cursed."

Her gaze flicked back to Imogen. "That's why were called here. Because we can leave. But they don't even know what they're looking for." Carina's runed eye glowed as it did when she used it, subtle, but Imogen's face was close enough to hers. "I can see the whole ship. It changes, and reforms, and moves rooms around without bothering anyone. She seems to want to keep me from getting lost, because not many others can see her like I can.

"It's not any magic I've seen before, but her aura's just as poisoned as the rest of the crew's. Just as complex, like she's thinking and feeling. I bet she listens."

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[Imogen]

At Carina's last statement the Ork blinked with surprise and drew away slightly, on the verge of sitting up as she looked at her surroundings. It was little more than a startle as what she had thought was a totally intimate moment suddenly contemplated the gaze of a stranger.

"Listens? D'you mean The Duck is always-"

Imogen scanned her cabin, eyes narrowing as she took in the living wood, the strangely-fitted stone, the odd pattern on the ceiling. Which parts were alive? The wood? The stone, too? She couldn't hear any breathing, any settling, any noises which typically served as the hallmark of living things... but she could hear the wood creaking as it settled, the waves washing at the hull outside. Was that a kind of life, or was it just movement? Was there a difference?

Had there ever been a difference?

"Um, sorry. My thoughts got a little away from me, there." Usually Imogen's thoughts were both modest and infrequent, such that they were easy to manage. Still, she felt that she had to be excused for increased contemplation following the weird series of life-changing events which had unfolded throughout Glade and Searing.

"Well, it doesn't matter. The Duck brought us back together, and so we shall save her from whatever curse she suffers from in return. After all, we are witches, and that is a standard job for witches." Not for either Railrunners or Sunsingers, but it was certainly part of the milieu of the Zaichaeri conception of a witch. "Admittedly I'm not sure that my power to turn into a lemur is going to prove decisive, but I'm not the living magical boat here."

That, at least, was true. Not the part about not being a boat (although that was also true), but that if The Duck had really reached across the world to pluck them both up and reunite them, Imogen owed the ship a great debt. And it was the practice of the Sunsinger Order to pay every debt, in full and on time, no matter the violence it might do to your personal bank account.

The metaphor had gotten away from Imogen again, so she settled for quietly holding Carina's hand instead.