Completed Desperate Times

[Autumn Rose]

Fall the 71st, 519 AV

Exhaustion. Few people understood that in its entirety, felt that in the very heart of the thing.

Autumn did. She didn’t need sleep, but when she expended her efforts on the world, she needed restoration, rejuvenation. And all night long, she hadn’t had a moment’s rest. Bell by bell, chime by chime, tick by tick, she had shredded herself apart, piece by piece, imbuing the strength of her soul into another body. Every breath she drew for the other tore away another fraction of her soul until finally there was nothing left to give but the end of her existence, and she knew it wouldn’t be enough. She needed more, but she didn’t have it to give.

If she took time, she could regenerate her mist, draw on what was out there in the ether to rebuild her, but time was the one thing she didn’t have. Sure, she had all the time in the world, eternity if she so chose, but Candace did not. Autumn needed something that would replenish her mist in a moment, return to her the strength and effort she had given away, just so she could give it away again. There was only way she knew of and only person who could do that, and she didn’t like the option.

But desperate times called for desperate measures, and so she hovered at the doorstep of the home of the person who terrified her most in this world, someone who could destroy her easily, someone who Autumn was certain wanted to wipe her from the fragile existence she was clinging to. Summoning what was left of the tiny fragment of her soul, Autumn pleaded with it to materialize her form. It didn’t want to. It was broken. She was broken. So when it didn’t respond to her begging, she drew on what strength she had and demanded it. Every portion of her was poured into this one action, but there was nothing left of her to give. Weakly, exhausted, she hovered in the air, nothing more than a hint of blue where one eye should have been and a shiver of the air that was there but not. Even if someone looked, they wouldn’t see her.

But the house didn’t need to see her. It could sense her, and it wasn’t pleased to see her. If anything, their first meeting had been less than pleasant. Neither had attacked the other, but Autumn had come following Madeira with an exhilarating malice bubbling out of her soul. The house had sensed that and had been certain to make her feel unwelcome. Today, it was making certain to return that malice in full. An overwhelming sense of impending doom pulsated from the building, but Autumn was too tired and too desperate for fear.

Her voice was barely more than a whisper. It was all she could coax from her soul and the air around her, but the defeated voice that emanated from the nothingness was enough to reach the house. “I’m not here to fight, House.” She didn’t know what else to call it. “I come bearing an olive branch. I want peace.”

A sudden increase in the hatred from the house said it didn’t believe her.

“I need help. Believe me, this was the last place I wanted to turn for it, but desperate times…”

There was no change for a moment, and Autumn felt certain the house wouldn’t hear her out, wouldn’t care what she said. For a few valuable ticks, the world seemed to hold its breath, then let it out in a collective sigh as the hate and malice stemmed itself. It didn’t leave completely, but it lessened enough that the air surrounding Autumn’s little soul felt less oppressive.

“Please. I don’t have time to spare. I need to speak with your mistress. Can you let Madeira know I’m here?”

Its anger had finally settled enough that it could sense the many things wrong with the spirit before it. Desperation was evident enough as well as the shred of hope that tottered on the edge of hopelessness, but perhaps the most noticeable oddity in the ghost was a weariness that bordered on emptiness, nothingness. It seemed that a simple forgetfulness would snuff her out of existence. The malice withdrew suddenly, and though it didn’t invite her in, it did welcome her closer. She could only hope House was bringing Madeira and bringing her quickly.

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira was in the bath when she felt the Infinity Manor's hackles raise. Her heels were resting on the lip of the claw foot tub, her head submerged in a froth of blonde hair as she stared at the ceiling through the distortion of the water. Her thoughts were wandering as her scared, mismatched hands traced the colourful outlines of the tattoos on her thighs.

What's happening?, she asked silently, pushing the question through the mental link to the Architectrix. When it didn't answer she pulled her head from the water, so it cascaded down her chest and between her pointed breasts. The skull tattooed just above rippled and snarled. "What's happening", she asked again, irritated at having to repeat herself.

Visitor, it supplied unhelpfully.

Pulling her self up by the sides of the tub Madeira stood, groaning with the effort. She soothed the edges of her house's temper with gentle thoughts as she stepped out and pulled down a towel that had been warming on a rack by the small fireplace. "It's okay, I'll deal with it. Leave them be."

She wrung out her hair and stepped into her plain blue cotton dress, threading one button after another until it sat snug against her throat. Around her the manor appeared to be relenting, the room around her seemed to sigh as its anger released in a creak of stressed old wood. The house had become suspicious since it witnessed her fight with Jomi, so on top of its already mercurial temperament it was becoming rather unpredictable with guests. It was starting to take matters into its own hands about who could and could not enter its property, rather than consulting her. It made her nervous to see it taking that kind of control, a habit she was hoping to curb by pulling responsibilities away from it. She made the decisions here, and it had to understand that.

She held her gloves in the crook of her elbow and braided her hair as she padded barefoot down the winding metal stairs to the second floor. Without jewels, makeup or fancy clothes the young mage was an unimpressive little slip of a thing, but you'd never guess she knew by the way she held herself. When she opened the front door she stood straight and tall, pulling her gloves tight over her wrists. She had bags under her eyes and water in her eyelashes, and she rubbed them both in an attempt to clear her vision.

There was a ghost there on her doorstep, but she couldn't see it. It was nothing more than an outline of shivering air, and a lost glint of blue. But she knew who it was.

"Autumn?"

So this was why the house had been so defensive. Madeira too felt a spark of vexation at her reappearance. Autumn was the ghost who had slipped completely out of her grasp weeks ago, something that happened so rarely these days. She did not relish the reminded that she had been beaten, but she also recognized that something had changed. Madeira was not hunting her down. Autumn came to her. She wanted something, and badly, to risk knocking at her door.

She could guess what the ghost wanted, though. She was a shred of a being now. Whatever she had been doing since they had last met had messed her up, and badly. Madeira didn't have to fake the shocked at seeing the ghost so ruined.

"Autumn. Gods. Come inside. Tell me what happened."

[Autumn Rose]

The woman who greeted Autumn at the door wasn’t the one who typically presented herself about town, wasn’t the same one visually as the woman she had met that night earlier in the season, but she still held herself the same. She didn’t need to adorn herself with finery and makeup. Her eyes still carried a presence in them. Behind them was pride and power, and she wouldn’t be undone by simple things like an ill-timed visit. Somewhere in her tired mind, Autumn realized she had interrupted Madeira. The woman’s hair was still wet, and she was barefoot, barely pulling her gloves over her hands as she opened the door.

As shock registered on Madeira’s face, Autumn was too tired to question whether it was all just a ploy, whether the spiritist was using subtlety to manipulate the spirit to where she wanted her. Weariness and urgency made her forget to check if the crossbow was on Miss Craven’s arm. The truth was she didn’t have the time or the energy to waste on doubt. She had to trust Madeira, hope she would be benevolent.

By her words, she was, and Autumn didn’t question their authenticity. Now, in her hour of need, her trust was at a height it had never reached.

“Autumn. Gods. Come inside. Tell me what happened.”

Autumn couldn’t be sure if Madeira could see the shake of her head and hoped the urgency she put behind her weakly whispered words conveyed how desperate she was, how quick they needed to be. “I can’t. I need your help, but I don’t have time to explain. I need the most potent mist you have and as much of it as you can spare, and I need someone to take it to the Catholicon for me.”

It was a tall request, especially for someone who had no reason to trust her. She had to make Madeira understand, but she had no common ground to build upon. What Autumn decided on was the truth, unembellished. “Someone is dying, and I’m not strong enough to save them on my own. I need you. You’re the only one I know who can give me the fighting chance I need to give her the fighting chance she deserves.”

Autumn drifted away from House, beckoning Madeira to follow her, before she remembered that Madeira would need to grab the things she needed. Quickly, she tried to blink back to where she had been hovering but instead blinked back past the doorstep and into House.

She felt a response that was almost a shiver from the sentient building, and she apologized as she drifted back toward the door, even the shiver in the air lessening at the effort her minor materialization took. “Sorry, House.”

Gliding back to Madeira, she begged again, but even the projection of her voice cracked and faded, certain words she said becoming nearly indecipherable. “Please, get what you need and let’s go. I can explain more on the way.”

The two women standing face to face couldn’t have appeared more different. Madeira, even caught unprepared, had an air of propriety and pride that the most seasoned socialites would have lost in the current situation. She exuded power. Despite every effort that Autumn put forward, she was only a shadow of a thing that shouldn’t’ve existed anyhow. She was fragile and broken, not just in the sense of her form but in her spirit as well. She was at her rope’s end.

She tried once more to summon her remaining mist to her to brighten her materialization, to say one thing more, but there was nothing left to draw on. The shimmer of air flickered, and the blue light of the one remaining visible eye went out.

[Madeira Dusk]

Unsurprisingly, Autumn refused to come inside. Madeira felt more than saw the spirit shake her head. Her voice was barely a whisper over the rustle of the trees. It didn't even project from anywhere near where her mouth should be, but rather behind her and to the left, like she was already floating away.

She needed soulmist. Madeira's soulmist. And she needed it taken to the Catholicon.

Madeira's eyes narrowed. What was this? She expected to be begged for soulmist, but not for the request to be threaded through a needle tying a story together. Someone was dying, and Autumn could save them, but only with her help?

Her soulmist was valuable, but only because she didn't give it away for free. It could restore even the weakest ghost in an instant, and imbued the revived spirit with part of the abilities of the creature who's blood was used to make it. Every ghost who saw it wanted it, and the fact she only gave it to her servants and those who did her special favours made it rare and prized. Was this little dance just so Autumn could get her out of the house, so someone stronger could corner her? Did she strike a deal: she got the soulmist if she brought the mage? Could it be Rothsam, using her like he used Jomi? Or could it be the mage murderer who's been on the loose for seasons?

But at the same time...

The manor's consciousness moved in lazy, mistrustful currents. Autumn was beckoning her, but when she mistakenly blinked too close the house shivered on its foundations in warning. The ghost apologized, but Madeira's own thoughts sliced loud and clean through the room.

LEAVE IT.

She had invited Autumn inside herself. The manor had no right to refuse her now.

Madeira stood in the doorway a tick longer, her arms folded, watching as the last of Autumn's materialization faded. She had done her share of begging in that past. There was a certain sound to it. A kind of low, desperate echo as a person with no options left was forced to hollow themselves out and lay their needs bare. Madeira let the sound of Autumn's echo reverberate in the space between her ribs before suddenly making her decision.

"Infinity, find Emma and tell her find me at the Catholicon so she can bring me home", she turned back inside, where the open kitchen curved against the left of the hexagonal house. She grabbed her holy flask from the table and two jars from the pantry, one full of foul looking black dough and the other with a centimetre of Spook's thinned blood congealing in the bottom. She pushed a handful of dough down her throat and chased it with a swig of cat's blood. "If she doesn't bring me back in a bell send Jomi to find me. If I still don't come back tell Allister to rip this city apart, starting with Rothsam."

Madeira slipped into her shoes and walked out the door without her rings, her bow, or her tools, just a flask and a belly full of soulmist. The urgency in Autumn's shivering form was heavy in the air.

"I can't see you, Autumn, but I can follow you. Lead the way."

WC: 549

[Autumn Rose]

Authoritatively, Madeira began to deliver commands, even as she swallowed dough and blood, and there was no question who was the mistress of this household. Still, Autumn sensed a tension in the commands that were given and how they were given. Madeira expected trouble and not just from Autumn, maybe not from her at all. Something larger was happening in this city, but to Autumn, there was nothing more important, nothing that carried a greater weight, than her current predicament.

Madeira let Autumn lead the way, her Alvad tendencies having let her grow up with no sense of direction. Even as drained as she had been, Autumn’s trip from the Catholicon to Madeira’s manor was much quicker than the return trip. She had forgotten how much physical bodies hindered those who wore them. They could only move so fast, and they couldn’t move through things. Worse, they couldn’t blink. Several times, Autumn had to remind herself not to launch herself a great distance ahead so she could reach the Catholicon more quickly, check on her friend sooner. Part of her was angry that Madeira could only move so fast, but part of her realized the miracle that Madeira had made the choice to come at all.

Autumn didn’t know what had made Madeira decide to join her, but she didn’t question it. Favor had found her, and she wouldn’t let that slip away. Whatever motivations drove Madeira, it didn’t matter. She was here, and she was bringing mist. Hope, that fragile light, broke inside of Autumn, not in the way a shattering glass would but in the catastrophic way a dam bursts bringing with it the flood of everything it had held back, in the way a capped mountain finally builds too much pressure to hold back and detonates, in the way a star dies in a flash of light brighter than it had ever made before.

The sudden renewal gave her the needed strength to push on, and she hovered out ahead of Madeira, speaking to the spiritist with a voice that came not from her mouth but from where she might have been or maybe where she should be. Autumn had promised Madeira an explanation along the way. “I hope you understand that this mist isn’t for me. It’s for Candace. She’s barely entered this world, barely begun life. Only four months old, and she’s already changed the world. At least, that’s what her parents would tell you if you asked them. Me, too, I suppose.”

It was a difficult thing to put into words. “She is incredible, though she has done nothing but exist. To me, that is enough. There is so much potential in her, but she became sick yesterday. A disease of the lungs, Alessia said. An infection. Phlegm and fluid and mucous are building inside of her chest, and she can’t get the air she needs. Alessia gave her something for it, but it needs time to work. Candace has to fight until it starts working, but she is so tired. She doesn’t know the strength of her own body. Left to her own devices, her breathing gets rough, and she starts to turn blue.

“She doesn’t understand that she is strong enough to fight this off, but I can. I can show her her own strength. Death doesn’t deserve her, not yet. When she begins to give up, I can breathe for her. She deserves this chance. Life deserves this chance. If you saw the way her parents looked at her while she struggled for air last night, you’d understand.

“I’ve never been a mother.” She shook her head, seeing that for the lie it was. “I have. I’ve never given birth, and I never will. But I have still been a mother. Twice. The first time was when I first knew Maro. I was his caretaker, and I loved him as only a mother could, but Kelvics grow so fast, Madeira. He didn’t stay a child for long, and things changed so quickly between us. That doesn’t change facts though, and the fact is the first love I knew for him was a mother’s love, and that is a love like few others.” Autumn was sure she didn’t need to explain the second instance of her motherhood. She sighed. “Words don’t do it justice, but if you were a mother, you’d understand.”

She went quiet for a while, but a few chimes from the Catholicon, another thought entered her mind. “Madeira, no one gives anything away for free. Don’t get me wrong. I’m willing to pay, but I wanna know. What’s this going to cost me?”

Dozens of possibilities raced through Autumn’s mind, money not among them. Most were unpleasant. There seemed to be an infinite number of things Madeira could ask from her, and Autumn wasn’t sure how demanding the spiritist would be. For Candace, she’d happily pay, but she dreaded Madeira’s answer.

[Madeira Dusk]

Autumn's weak voice brightened as she spoke, her words dancing somewhere between devotion and reverence. There was a baby, a most perfect creature by the way she described her. And she was dying, but with Autumn's help she could be saved.

Madeira's face only darkened as they walked. Frustration poured off of the ghost's shroud at her slow pace, and even invisible Madeira could feel the agitated lick of its currents running electric through the air. But even so she could feel her legs getting heavier, and her steps began to slow. The scar tissue of her right hand felt tight. She massaged her thumb into the palm as she walked.

She doesn't know, she had to remind herself. This ghost has no idea what she's doing to this child.

There was a choice here, rising in front of her as inevitable as the tide. And there was no right answer. Her eyes tracked the faint shimmer of the ghost as she drifted over the cobbles, weaving between people who didn't even know she was there. A mothers love was a powerful thing, Autumn was explaining. It didn't matter that she never bore a child with her body, she had been a mother more than once.

Madeira felt an ache deep in the empty space of her womb, but still she didn't speak. A passerby knocked into her, distracted as she was. She only smiled wanly as he apologize. What was she going to do?

Finally a few chimes later the endless stairs leading up to the Catholicon raised up before them, and Madeira was out of time. But Autumn spoke first: “Madeira, no one gives anything away for free. Don’t get me wrong. I’m willing to pay, but I wanna know. What’s this going to cost me?”

The Eiyon wavered where she stood. Here was the choice. Did she save Autumn, or the baby? She couldn't do both.

Saving the baby meant restraining Autumn, and letting the little girl die. It was her time. To meddle in her death, prolonging it by even one tortured breath, was wrong. Her very soul shuddered to know what Autumn had done. Possession was not a kindness. It was a violation of the sanctity of ones soul. She was not giving the little girl the strength to breath, she was forcing muscles she couldn't feel to go past their endurance. She was forcing breath into a tiny body that couldn't take the task of living anymore.

But if she let that little girl die in peace she would lose Autumn forever. The ghost had just opened up to her about Maro, motherhood and her most intimate emotions. This was the kind of rapport she needed if she was ever going to truly exorcise the ghost. If she kept this going she could one day kill Autumn, and send her happily to her goddess.

So who should she save, Autumn or Cadence? Who was going to suffer so the other could die?

"Autumn..." Madeira finally stopped in her tracks, her eyes studying the steps before her like the answer was written in the stones. "I'm a mother too. I have a little girl, and a little boy. They're Kelvics, like their father. I love them so much. Gods, I never knew I had such love in me until they were born. Amelie has this bright, beautiful laugh and this sparkling tenacity about her. Moritz is so smart and independent. Such a serious little boy. They're such trouble, but I'm so proud of them. You're right, words don't do it justice."

She looked up at the ghost, and her eyes were hard and cold. "I am their mother, and I love them. Because of that I would never hurt them the way you're hurting Cadence. My help is not free, you're right. So my payment is this: think hard about what you're doing to this little girl. You're prolonging her life in a cruel way, delaying her natural death, to save yourself the grief of losing her. Its selfish, it's cruel. If you love her, if you truly love her, you would let her go."

She held out her flask, and the scythe embossed on it's silver surface winked cruelly in the unseasonably bright sunlight. The soulmist inside of an irresistibly attractive fragrance, and it would take no effort for Autumn to reach through the silver shell to take it.

"I need you to understand what you're doing to this girl. Do that for me, and if you still decide to go through with this I won't stop you."

She chose Autumn.

[Autumn Rose]

A mother? Autumn hadn’t expected that from the spiritist, but as the words spilled out of Madeira’s mouth, Autumn knew they were true. Even for an accomplished liar, the emotion when she talked about the children was too real. Amelie. Moritz. Autumn tucked the names away for another time, another place.

But then came the accusation, and Autumn felt her rage, hot and consuming at the very core of herself. Madeira would feel it, too, but she spoke what was on her heart to say. “I love them. Because of that I would never hurt them the way you’re hurting Candace.”

Madeira laid down what she required as payment. “Think hard about what you're doing to this little girl. You're prolonging her life in a cruel way, delaying her natural death, to save yourself the grief of losing her. Its selfish, it's cruel. If you love her, if you truly love her, you would let her go.”

The spiritist held out the flask, soulmist inside glowing with a tantalizing aroma that could only reach the dead. "I need you to understand what you're doing to this girl. Do that for me, and if you still decide to go through with this I won't stop you."

Autumn drew on the last of her mist, letting Madeira see her face as rage dissolved into sadness. “I have thought about it, Madeira. I had an eternity last night to think about it. Every time I watched her struggle. Every time I watched her suffer. It crossed my mind.”

That familiar sensation from life, that pit in the depths of one’s soul, the one that accompanied a sickening feeling at the things one had thought or done, came to Autumn now. “It crossed my mind. That I could end this. All it would take is a chime-long struggle. One chime, maybe even less. My will against hers, and mine would win. Hold her breath until it wouldn’t come again. Give her the mercy of rest. Believe me, I thought of it. Every time I slipped into her, I faced that decision again and again. And I made the right choice.”

Her soul sighed, and the edges of her mist dissipated into the world about them. “You disagree with what I’m doing here. I’ve sensed your mark. Maro had it, remember? I know what it feels like. You think that just because you’ve been touched by the Queen of Death that you have the only understanding of death, the only right understanding of it. You think I’m cruel?”

“How can you make such an accusation? I have lived death, in one of its cruelest forms. I understand it more intimately than you could ever hope to, in ways I pray you never will. If you understood what life meant to those it was stolen from, you would not be so certain in your assumptions.

“You think I’m a monster. You think I shouldn’t exist, that the only place I belong is moved on, returned to the cycle to reincarnate and forget this life. You think I’m cruel, that I’m making a mistake, that I’m making her suffer. I’m offering her a night of pain and agony, so she’ll have a lifetime of opportunity to be loved the way you love your children, a lifetime to discover that she loves someone that much too.”

Letting go of her materialized form, invisible Autumn reached for the flask and slipped through its side, drinking deep of the mist. It pained her to say, but it was better than anything she had previously tasted. Even her favorite, Maro’s, with all the love it was crafted with, with all its intentionality to be used by her and her alone, was not so good. Finer than any mist made by the most seasoned spiritists on Black Rock. Finer than the best aged wines from Kenash’s plantations she had had in life. This was exquisite, and when she had drunk her fill, Autumn burst back through the side of the flask, feeling more alive than when she was fully rested. There was power in this mist, and she was stronger now than she had ever been.

She materialized again, briefly for Madeira’s sake. “You may disagree with me, Madeira, but let me prove you wrong. One day, you will meet Candace, and you will realize the good you did here today. I promise you. If you like, she’s on the second story. You may see her now. You can watch what I do, but I warn you, it’s not an easy thing to see.”

With that, Autumn twisted and blinked twice, once through the walls of the Catholicon and once upward into its second story where she knew her friend was waiting for her return. Candace was waiting along with her parents, Alessia, and two assistants. Candace was in Alessia’s arms, and Autumn could tell by her mother’s sobbing that things had gotten worse since she left. Alessia was trying to get the child to cough again. Candace’s lips over the doctor’s shoulder were growing bluer by the moment. With one more blink, Autumn was where she needed to be.

Inside the child, she let her soul find the outer extents of the body, then wrap itself around the more important parts, following the vague currents of djed she knew were there. Possession had never come so cheaply to Autumn than in this moment. There was no resistance from her host, and the power that coursed through her being from Madeira’s mist gave her unknown strength.

Forcing the lungs to do what Candace couldn’t, Autumn drew in deep breaths and sent the air out in hard, racking coughs. After a steady chime of this, Autumn felt life and strength returning to the body, and despite the effort it took, her grip was not slipping. The muscles weren’t so difficult to move anymore. Even possession could only push the body so far. Living flesh had its needs, and without them, it could only do so much. A wise ghost knew to take care of its host. Air was the most vital resource.

Even with this new strength though, Autumn could feel how taxing every breath was on the body. When enough of the buildup of the sickness was gone, Autumn pressed all of her focus into breathing. The downward pull of the diaphragm. The swell of the belly. The rise of the tiny chest. Again and again and again.

With her focus on the child, Autumn couldn’t be sure if Madeira had come or not. She didn’t care. All she knew was Madeira had given her the mist. Every breath Autumn drew for Candace was Madeira’s gift, not Autumn’s. Life. Despite whatever misconceptions Madeira held about the world and the way it worked, she had chosen life today. Autumn didn’t want it, she didn’t like it, but she was in the spiritist’s debt and deeply.

Those who were watching noticed the marked improvement in the child’s breathing but could see Candace was still far from clear of danger. Each breath came ragged and painful, a desperate gasp but a breath nonetheless.

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira felt sick. She stowed her empty flask away, and it felt somehow heavier than it did before. She gave Autumn a chance to make the right choice, and she wouldn't. That made Madeira complicit in this crime.

"Autumn, please, listen to yourself!" and now it was her turn to beg as she reached out for the ghost that stood strong and defiant before her, her shroud solidifying in the light. "There will be other lifetimes for this child. This is not about you wanting her to live, this is about you wanting her to live as Cadence. You just want her to love and laugh and grow up somewhere you can see it. You have no idea what you're doing, let her go!"

But it was too late. Autumn had blinked away, moving up the endless stone stairs and disappearing into the tall tower.

Madeira's heart gave a great lurch, as if striving to follow the ghost, and then began to pound. She swallowed hard, choking on a sudden, irrational panic. That little baby, that poor little baby. Her soul was being raped because a ghost and a spiritist decided that she was going to live. What had she done?

Autumn was wrong. Her idea of death was wrong. She had revealed that she had died horribly, and Madeira knew that that experience coloured her perceptions. It had become tilted, skewed, washed in bitterness and regret. And now she was using it as an excuse to hurt a child and spit in the face of God.

Madeira made as if to follow, as Autumn offered. But as she raised herself onto that first step she stopped, feeling the gentle presence of death lapping at her consciousness. Many people had died on these steps, trying to get to the Catholicon. She brushed her mind over a few of them, and the scenes opened like flowers for her. An old man with a weak heart had laid down and died exactly where she stood. A reluctant suicide had tried to climb the steps with her wrists open to the bone. A little boy with a spider bite on his neck was being carried in his fathers arms when he stopped breathing. The dying was painful, but death was a gift. The world only looked so cruel from this side. It didn't show the freedom and potential of an unbound soul, having stripped the suffering body away to be rewritten anew.

"Maddy? Are you okay?"

Emma materialized behind her, her wide brown eyes both scared and astonished. It was then that Madeira realized she was crying. She quickly wiped the back of her gloves over her eyes.

"Oh, Em, thank you for finding me so quickly. I'm okay, sweetheart. But I think I might have done something really terrible."

The ghost shuffled her feet anxiously, not quite able to look her mistress in the eye.

"Like, really bad? Like when Jomi tried to bury Spooks to see if he'd turn into a ghost cat? That bad?"

Madeira gave a watery laugh. "A little bit worse than that."

"Oh." The ghost looked at her feet, then the sky, then the catholicon ahead. "Do you wanna go home?"

Madeira thought about Autumn on that second floor, forcing this child to breath, and her heart turned cruelly. Autumn owed her her life for this. One of these days she was going to come and collect for this blasphemy they did together. But not today. Autumn could have this one day to revel in life.

"Okay, kitten, lets go home."

[Autumn Rose]

Even with Madeira’s mist, Autumn struggled. Possession wasn’t something she was well-versed in, something she had much practice with. Despite the strength Madeira had lent her, after only a bell, Autumn was completely spent, and there was still plenty of work to be done. Three more memories were gone by the time Candace was breathing steadily. It took several more bells before Autumn felt comfortable handing control of the body back to Candace. When she was certain the child was breathing well on her own, Autumn left their body.

Disappointment like she had rarely felt it before filled her. Madeira wasn’t there. Aside from Candace, her family, and the medical staff, the room was empty. In her weariness, unable to do much else, Autumn looked at each of their faces. Every last on of them was tired. No, not tired. That wasn’t the right word for this.

Exhausted. Few people understood that in its entirety, felt it in the very heart of the thing, but the six of them did. The five of them and Autumn. Eyes that needed sleep strained against its necessity in order to keep watch on the child. Bodies too wasted to stand lounged uncomfortably against the limited furniture. They looked as exhausted as she felt, but beneath that outward portrayal of exhaustion was something else, something stronger. Satisfaction. Satisfaction in a job well done. And relief. Relief that the little life brought into this world would continue on it.

Life. It was what had brought them together this night and morning. Life was a choice well worth making. Here, lying in a hospital cradle, was everything they had fought for, and Autumn had to admit little Candace wasn’t impressive. But Candace was Candace, and that was enough. She didn’t have to be impressive. She merely had to be.

A rolling schedule was set with each person’s shift overlapping with the one’s before and after, so there were always two pairs of eyes to watch Candace, three if Autumn was counted, but no one other than the child knew she was there. In this fashion whoever was awake could keep the other awake as well as keep an eye on the girl. Everyone went to their respective sleep or watch, and though Autumn could rest, she couldn’t sleep.

And that left her with her thoughts, and there was only one thing that dominated those. Missing memories. It was like having an itch, not one she didn’t know how to scratch but one she couldn’t scratch because she didn’t know where it was to scratch it. The memory had simply existed, then was gone. The having lost it wasn’t the worst part. It was the knowing that she had had it. If she didn’t know it was missing, she wouldn’t have cared.

But she did know, so she did care. It was maddening, like having a word on the tip of her tongue but not being able to speak it, only this was infinitely worse, because this thing had been a part of her. IT was so much a part of her that it had been stored in the core of her.

Autumn was beginning to understand how some ghosts went insane.

Instead of dwelling on what she had lost, Autumn turned her thoughts to what she had gained. Bell after bell, she watched as Candace’s chest continued to rise and fall. It didn’t matter how many memories Autumn lost. Today, Candace had lived. Today, through no power of Autumn’s own, an agent of Death had made the choice for life. Four memories was a small price to pay for every breath Candace would draw from here on out. Autumn know that. One day, Madeira would, too.

Autumn lurked, a sinister shadow that existed just beyond the scope of the eye. Anybody watching wouldn’t see her, but she existed, as much as the things in the real shadows that continued to watch the scene. Though she wasn’t materialized, Autumn smiled, and the world seemed a little brighter for it, a little warmer. Mortal pacing seemed too fast now. Candace would live and grow and change the way all living things did, and there was nothing Autumn could do to stop that.

[Madeira Dusk]

Grades Awarded!

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Autumn Rose

Skills

• Materialization: 4xp
• Possession: 2xp

Lores

• Infinity Manor: reluctant and hostile
• Lore of the emptiness of spiritual exhaustion
• Persuasion: pleading
• Lore of the physical limitations of living bodies
• Cadence: worth anything
• Madeira: is a mother
• Amelie: Madeira's daughter
• Moritz: Madeira's son
• Possession: forced breathing

Awards & Retribution
+Item gained
+Trait recieved
-Injury
-Mizas spent

Notes
Thanks for the story! <3

Madeira Craven

Skills

• Architectrix: 2xp
• Planning: 1xp
• Negotiation: 1xp

Lores

• Autumn: needs help
• Architectrix: taking matters into its own hands
• Planning: worst case scenario
• Autumn: is a mother
• Autumn: tortured possession
• People: Cadence
• Autumn: dies horribly

Awards & Retribution
+Item gained
+Trait recieved
-Injury
-Mizas spent

Notes
Notes here.