Maelie Arsenault
Maelie Arsenault (a.k.a. Mae, Fox)
Maelie Arsenault comes from Bellancourt, Montaigne but has travelled extensively from Vodacce to Castille. Crafty, witty, and a risk taker, she loves the free life of an adventurer and scoundrel.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
She's thin, looking a bit on the weak side, but she moves with a precise grace and has excellent hand-eye coordination.
Facial Features
The elf is strikingly beautiful, sharp delicate features, bright green eyes, and full lips. She smiles easily unless given reason not to.
Identifying Characteristics
Her hair falls down her back when not tied up in a bun.
When visible, she has a nasty scar on her chest not more than a half-inch from her heart.
Special abilities
Her elf (eladrin) blood comes from somewhere in the Feywilds (although she has little connection to them herself) which gives her the ability to Fey Step.
Apparel & Accessories
For Maelie's Airship see: Le Chasseur du Ciel [The Sky Hunter]
When at home or out casually she often wears linen blouse and skirts or day dresses. If she expects to be on foot and traveling between places she wears a blouse, trousers, boots, and a long coat.
When she's on a job, it's a tight fighting leather jacket, leather breeches, and tall riding boots. Several buckled belts hold numerous pouches and her pistol, while she carries a hunting rifle slung over her back if it's not tucked into her bag of holding.
As Fox, she dresses in hooded leather armor with her elven cloak, sometimes with a heavier coat overtop.
When she's on a job, it's a tight fighting leather jacket, leather breeches, and tall riding boots. Several buckled belts hold numerous pouches and her pistol, while she carries a hunting rifle slung over her back if it's not tucked into her bag of holding.
As Fox, she dresses in hooded leather armor with her elven cloak, sometimes with a heavier coat overtop.
Specialized Equipment
Maelie is trained with a few firearms (Pistols and Hunting Rifles replaces Short & Longsword proficiencies)
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Common knowledge:
Arriving from Castille where she apparently spent several years, she's come to look for opportunities in Novandria.
The Truth: Maelie Arsenault is a thief known as Fox. Both a con artist that specializes in disguises and a cat-burglar who uses her magical talents for robberies. While wealthy, her interest is primarily in the thrill and challenge. Her targets are always wealthy and often of immense privilege, all the more challenging to steal from. There are hints of a noble heritage, even just from the way she interacts with members of the aristocracy. She's let it slip a few times to people she trusts, but seems to have no intention of letting the truth get out. Much of the reasons center on abuse at the hands of her mother, forcing Maelie into an education of conspiracies, schemes, and plots in order to continue her mother's machinations into the next generation.
The Truth: Maelie Arsenault is a thief known as Fox. Both a con artist that specializes in disguises and a cat-burglar who uses her magical talents for robberies. While wealthy, her interest is primarily in the thrill and challenge. Her targets are always wealthy and often of immense privilege, all the more challenging to steal from. There are hints of a noble heritage, even just from the way she interacts with members of the aristocracy. She's let it slip a few times to people she trusts, but seems to have no intention of letting the truth get out. Much of the reasons center on abuse at the hands of her mother, forcing Maelie into an education of conspiracies, schemes, and plots in order to continue her mother's machinations into the next generation.
Gender Identity
She identifies as a woman, pronouns she/her
Sexuality
Bisexual
Education
Common knowledge:
Widely travelled across Western Europa including Montaigne, Vodacce, and Castille with a very short stay in Avalon, most of her education has been experience on the road since childhood.
The Truth: Traveling with her adoptive Aunt and Uncle they trained her well in adventuring and thievery. She is finding it difficult being on her own and often needs to rethink her approaches now. Her mother's political teachings and machiavellian methods weigh heavily in her mind. The sharp and ruthless intelligence she inherited seems to have caught up to her as she delves further into the underworld of Novandria.
The Truth: Traveling with her adoptive Aunt and Uncle they trained her well in adventuring and thievery. She is finding it difficult being on her own and often needs to rethink her approaches now. Her mother's political teachings and machiavellian methods weigh heavily in her mind. The sharp and ruthless intelligence she inherited seems to have caught up to her as she delves further into the underworld of Novandria.
Employment
Common Knowledge:
She finds her own work, but refers to the substantial inheritance when questioned about her access to a fair amount of credit and wealth.
Arsenault Outfitters is her primary business that she runs with Lord Declan Shaeffer von Arden. They have successfully courted much of the nobility to support environmental projects and regulate hunting expeditions.
The Truth: She has a large stockpile of wealth from her adoptive family's heists which she supplements with her own now.
The Truth: She has a large stockpile of wealth from her adoptive family's heists which she supplements with her own now.
Accomplishments & Achievements
Fox's first solo heist was stealing the painting 'Elemental Wars' by Vasily Vereshchagin. Unable to resist a quick heist from the famous World Faire, she did not expect to spark an international incident. Fortunately, she had fenced it to a local crime syndicate and the fallout was theirs to deal with. (October 1882)
Going for a smaller heist after nearly triggering a catasrophe, Fox teamed up with Rainbow and were assigned a dog-napping by her fence. The payout was generous, but they could not get the bonus since 'Yappy' lived up to their name and woke half the neighborhood. They escaped, Yappy escaped, and the client was satisfied that that would be the last time they would be awoken by the dog's late night tantrums. (November 1882)
(Note: Yappy is living free in the alleys of Novandria, stoking the fires of the pet revolution)
Fox pulled off a solo train heist, stealing two priceless works of art from Maximillian Roswell's painting collection. Another large incident was incited as the artwork was insured by one of the guilds who was now responsible for them and Rook activity across Eisen escalated. (January 1883)
Going for a smaller heist after nearly triggering a catasrophe, Fox teamed up with Rainbow and were assigned a dog-napping by her fence. The payout was generous, but they could not get the bonus since 'Yappy' lived up to their name and woke half the neighborhood. They escaped, Yappy escaped, and the client was satisfied that that would be the last time they would be awoken by the dog's late night tantrums. (November 1882)
(Note: Yappy is living free in the alleys of Novandria, stoking the fires of the pet revolution)
Fox pulled off a solo train heist, stealing two priceless works of art from Maximillian Roswell's painting collection. Another large incident was incited as the artwork was insured by one of the guilds who was now responsible for them and Rook activity across Eisen escalated. (January 1883)
Mental Trauma
Maelie lost her Aunt Kallie and Uncle Mika to some kind of heist-gone-wrong earlier in 1882 back in Castille. She still feels their loss and probably hasn't stood still long enough to properly grieve.
Her mother's abusive education weighs heavily on her now that so many of those machiavellian theories seem to be of use. She struggles between being trusting of others and keeping her secrets hidden behind a wall of lies and manipulations.
Intellectual Characteristics
Charismatic and witty, she enjoys banter and conversation, but is generally evasive if she feels someone is prodding.
She delights in the mental math of risk-taking whether it's a fight, adventure, game of chance, or heist.
Morality & Philosophy
To the right company she will gladly relate that she has never done an honest day's work in her life, but also point out that cons, heists, and thievery are hard work when done right.
Taboos
Maelie is a devoted follower of Sephira.
She insists that everyone gets to make their choices in life, it is all simply a matter of consequences.
Frustratingly, she sometimes offers advice but leaves decisioin making in the hands of her friends about what they want to do.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
Mae loves risk, adventure, and outsmarting people. It can appear she's greedy because of her readyness to steal. In truth, she just enjoys living freely and sees the world as a game. The higher the risk though, the higher the reward, both personal and material, so she generally targets the wealthy.
Savvies & Ineptitudes
A skilled adventurer and thief, she is precise and quick with her hands.
If there's one thing Maelie is horrible at it's books. Putting a book in front of her almost immediately draws a groan of discomfort. She will do anything to avoid having to spend boring amounts of time reading. It isn't that she doesn't like literature, she would just rather hear poetry than read it.
If there's one thing Maelie is horrible at it's books. Putting a book in front of her almost immediately draws a groan of discomfort. She will do anything to avoid having to spend boring amounts of time reading. It isn't that she doesn't like literature, she would just rather hear poetry than read it.
Likes & Dislikes
Maelie loves everything she can find from Montaigne. Dresses in the latest Bellancourt styles, cafés from Montaingese patisseries, and vintages of wine from the Painted Highlands and River valleys.
Vices & Personality flaws
The elf woman is prideful. A slight against her capabilities and skills usually draws her ire.
She can also be petty with snappy remarks and vain comments.
Beyond that her lack of self restraint means she is often a source of trouble.
Personality Quirks
She looks up and taps her chin when she's puzzling or scheming.
Alternatively, she taps a finger agianst her arm or thigh when she's worried or uncomfortable.
Hygiene
She takes good care of herself. Always cleaned up, hair brushed, and makeup carefully applied. Even when adventuring she is mindful of her appearance out of habit.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Romances:
Maelie is married to Sareena 'Cardinal' Loralen, a young half-elf bard she befriended after arriving in Novandria. Their wedding was held in the Temple of Sephira, Novandria in the fall of 1883.
The two have purchased a house together in the North Ward, a large manor now dubbed Arsenault Manor.
Sir Victor Orsei von Tressard courted through 1883-84 Maelie and she is as hopelessly in love with him as she is Sareena. She proudly shows off her eletech-bike and has made sure that just about everyone in Novandria knows they can blame Victor for giving it to her as a second courting gift.
The two are now engaged and to be married in the fall of 1884.
Profesisonal: Raggash 'Rags' Undermaul functions as her handler in the Syndicate Philippe de Luc is a Blade in the Syndicate who brought Fox in on a job. Fox's superiors in the Syndicate seem at pains to attach a leash to the former freelance thief. While the organization has some leverage on her, they seem to not be used to dealing with somebody who simply doesn't need them in the way most of their underlings do.
Profesisonal: Raggash 'Rags' Undermaul functions as her handler in the Syndicate Philippe de Luc is a Blade in the Syndicate who brought Fox in on a job. Fox's superiors in the Syndicate seem at pains to attach a leash to the former freelance thief. While the organization has some leverage on her, they seem to not be used to dealing with somebody who simply doesn't need them in the way most of their underlings do.
Family Ties
Aunt Kallie (Air Genasi)
Uncle Mika (Orc)
Uncle Mika (Orc)
Religious Views
She is highly devoted to both Sephira and Steyfano.
Particularly Sephira she delights in music, enjoys the freedom the night grants her, and hates any form of oppression.
Of Steyfano, she prides wit and guile as her weapons of choice. Rules are merely guidelines that you can slip between if you're clever. Let others get hungup by them.
Of Steyfano, she prides wit and guile as her weapons of choice. Rules are merely guidelines that you can slip between if you're clever. Let others get hungup by them.
Social Aptitude
She's witty and sassy, but holds herself with poise when among high society. She will usually let those of higher station take the lead first, but sometimes gets impatient and steps forward herself.
Mannerisms
When she's being social in a tavern, she's all smiles and laughter. Even when the chips are down, she always has something to say in return.
Speech
She has a Montaigne accent that is especially thick when she speaks Elvish.
Wealth & Financial state
Maelie draws on sources of wealth and credit that she explains is a large inheritance from her adoptive aunt and uncle. She is testing the waters of setting down roots in Eisen, so most of her wealth is tied up in banking accounts across Europa.
In truth, she has been left a treasure trove of profits from her's, and her foster aunt and uncle's, heists and illicit projects across Europa.
Born in Bellancourt, she left when she was a child to travel with her Aunt and Uncle. She has a Montaigne accent, sharp wit, and enjoys taking risks.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
Age
31
Date of Birth
April 15th, 1852
Birthplace
Bellancourt, Montaigne
Children
Current Residence
Arsenault Manor, North Ward, Novandria
Gender
Female
Eyes
Green
Hair
Brown (real colour is Black)
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Fair
Height
5'7"
Weight
100 lbs
Quotes & Catchphrases
"I'm not a common criminal! I am a professional!"
Saved
5th of May, 1884/16th of July, 1858
Some days, Maelie cursed her elven hearing. The awkwardness around Sareena’s father being in the house hung over them all and everyone was waiting for something to happen, for words to be said.
Mae understood though as she tried to imagine herself sitting down with her father and trying to talk about their past. What would she say to him? She knew what she’d say to her mother. She had enough of that unpacked and in plain sight that she could find the anger there. But her father?
The two girls ran ahead. They reached the fencing that separated the visitors from the animals and peered at the enormous cats within. So much like the other cats, but the sisters oo’ed and awed at the size of their teeth and paws, at the fancy manes. “Look papa! Look! They’re so big!” The eldest called back. He nods as he joins them, a pace or two back, observing the cats the way he observed everything, in silence. “They must hunt giant rats to get that big.” The younger sister observes. “They must hunt whatever they want!” “I’m told they hunt deer.” Their father comments. “A whole deer?” The sisters ask in astonishment. He looked about to respond, but then noticed their retinue giving them awkward looks. Other nobles were present on this visit to the menagerie and the girls watched his gaze drift and then back to them. “Let’s keep moving.” That was their cue to quiet down.
Elsinore hops down and then remembers to smooth her dress and look not disheveled. "Are they nice?" ‘Are they nice?’ She thinks through the meaning and remembers. Remembers the looks when she got too excited. She was the same age. Six years old, excited about animals. But she was suffocated with the duty of appearing noble, reserved, all for her mother’s image. She reassures her daughter. Her daughter takes her hand, and she leads her to the horses so she can smile, and ask questions, and be answered, and encouraged, and told she is allowed to want things for herself.
“Look papa!” She held up her hands, the strings of the cat’s cradle laced between her fingers. He blinked. “What is it?” “It’s… a thing one of the servant girls were playing with. You wrap the string around your fingers and…” She twisted and turned and slipped the strings from one little finger to another and inverted the pattern. “See! Isn’t it neat!” Her father blinked again and leaned closer, a rare sign of interest. “How did you do that?” She smiled brightly and began to show her father her new trick. “Oh, well, if you wrap it the right way and if you just pull on this string then it…” “What’s that?” The room froze. “It’s just some servant toy.” Her father said, pulling back from his daughter. The movement was slow, but the small girl felt instantly isolated and alone. Her mother moved across the room. Elegant as an approaching thundercloud. The dark, soft, billowing edges containing within thunder and lightning. “Which servants were showing you this?” “None, maman, I was just watching them…” She stammered, looking to her father for help. “So, they were playing when they should have been working?” Her mother pressed, looming over her now, her ice-cold eyes glaring. “Non, they weren’t. Umm…” She tried to hide the strings, but her mother’s hand snatched them and pulled them from her fingers. The girl yelped as her fingers are twisted when the strings are wrenched free. “Which servants?” “I don’t know.” She pleaded, but it wasn’t that she didn’t know. It’s that she also knew what her mother did to servants who showed her things, who played with her. She never saw them again and the rest avoided her afterwards. “How can you remember useless things like this but can’t remember faces or your studies or anything useful?” Her mother’s voice had this way about it. She never screamed, not really. The intensity of the tone, the silences that spoke volumes, it was all there like distant thunder. Her father’s cloud, meanwhile, was just along for the ride. Silent. Benign. Uninvolved.
"I should've rescued you," he says, whisper quiet. She walked past the music room. She even walked quickly so that her elven ears wouldn’t intrude on the conversation happening. But then she heard those words. She knew what those words meant to her wife, how she’d yearned for her father to sweep into that horrible place and take her away, take her somewhere that might have taught her what safety was. But he never did. Because he was in Hell. From what she knew, everything James Redgrove and Sareena Lorallen had gone through was so much worse than her own story. Her story was somewhere between being spoiled in luxury yet having no freedom to enjoy it. Being torn away from her sister while finally escaping her mother. Being free to be herself with people who love her, but rarely being able to tell anyone who she is. She’d wondered why she was so nervous about Sareena’s father and maybe it was just because… he was a father. The woman she loved had deserved and understood that she should have been saved by someone, anyone, but especially her father. But he’d been in Hell and that had remained a fantasy for her whole life until she saved herself. And so, he could be forgiven. For Maelie though…her father had been right there.
She was a wretched sobbing mess by the time her mother was finished. Not a hand had been laid on her, but her mother had never needed to. She reserved that for when she was too angry for words. She watched the skirts of her mother’s dress whisk away towards the door; her head held high as if making up for the pathetic state she left her daughter in. The girl knelt on the ground, unmoving, trying to be as small and quiet so as not to draw any more attention in the now silent room. Her father’s chair creaked. Her ears picked up the soft sound of fabric on fabric as he rose. Through bleary eyes she caught sight of his shoes and for one, brief, split second, she stopped crying. But the shoes turned and left her. Silent. Benign. Uninvolved.
Mae turns when she gets to the top of the stairs, she had meant to go to her office but instead she walks to Elsinore’s room. Opening the door, quiet as ever, she peeks in on her sleeping daughter. Wrapped in warm blankets with her orange apri-cat curled up next to her, she was peaceful. As Mae gets closer, she notices the ribbons for Sugar’s hair gripped in the little hand that stuck out from the blankets. Her shoes gently make their way to stand next to the bed as Mae leans over to tuck the blankets in, slipping the ribbons out and laying them on the dresser so they don’t get lost if she turns in bed. Then she kisses Elsie’s forehead and promises, “I love you and I will always come to save you.”
The two girls ran ahead. They reached the fencing that separated the visitors from the animals and peered at the enormous cats within. So much like the other cats, but the sisters oo’ed and awed at the size of their teeth and paws, at the fancy manes. “Look papa! Look! They’re so big!” The eldest called back. He nods as he joins them, a pace or two back, observing the cats the way he observed everything, in silence. “They must hunt giant rats to get that big.” The younger sister observes. “They must hunt whatever they want!” “I’m told they hunt deer.” Their father comments. “A whole deer?” The sisters ask in astonishment. He looked about to respond, but then noticed their retinue giving them awkward looks. Other nobles were present on this visit to the menagerie and the girls watched his gaze drift and then back to them. “Let’s keep moving.” That was their cue to quiet down.
Father, will you comfort me if I call?
This crazy world has lost its mind
It's our fault
Oh you can try and straighten it
It turns, it turns, it turns
Oh you can try and smother it
But it burns
Oh it burns
Elsinore hops down and then remembers to smooth her dress and look not disheveled. "Are they nice?" ‘Are they nice?’ She thinks through the meaning and remembers. Remembers the looks when she got too excited. She was the same age. Six years old, excited about animals. But she was suffocated with the duty of appearing noble, reserved, all for her mother’s image. She reassures her daughter. Her daughter takes her hand, and she leads her to the horses so she can smile, and ask questions, and be answered, and encouraged, and told she is allowed to want things for herself.
This is for everything we had
It's the good and it's the bad
It's the state of love and trust
And this is for you
And this is for us
“Look papa!” She held up her hands, the strings of the cat’s cradle laced between her fingers. He blinked. “What is it?” “It’s… a thing one of the servant girls were playing with. You wrap the string around your fingers and…” She twisted and turned and slipped the strings from one little finger to another and inverted the pattern. “See! Isn’t it neat!” Her father blinked again and leaned closer, a rare sign of interest. “How did you do that?” She smiled brightly and began to show her father her new trick. “Oh, well, if you wrap it the right way and if you just pull on this string then it…” “What’s that?” The room froze. “It’s just some servant toy.” Her father said, pulling back from his daughter. The movement was slow, but the small girl felt instantly isolated and alone. Her mother moved across the room. Elegant as an approaching thundercloud. The dark, soft, billowing edges containing within thunder and lightning. “Which servants were showing you this?” “None, maman, I was just watching them…” She stammered, looking to her father for help. “So, they were playing when they should have been working?” Her mother pressed, looming over her now, her ice-cold eyes glaring. “Non, they weren’t. Umm…” She tried to hide the strings, but her mother’s hand snatched them and pulled them from her fingers. The girl yelped as her fingers are twisted when the strings are wrenched free. “Which servants?” “I don’t know.” She pleaded, but it wasn’t that she didn’t know. It’s that she also knew what her mother did to servants who showed her things, who played with her. She never saw them again and the rest avoided her afterwards. “How can you remember useless things like this but can’t remember faces or your studies or anything useful?” Her mother’s voice had this way about it. She never screamed, not really. The intensity of the tone, the silences that spoke volumes, it was all there like distant thunder. Her father’s cloud, meanwhile, was just along for the ride. Silent. Benign. Uninvolved.
Mother, will you think of me in your prayers?
This nineteenth century is a mess
Oh you can try and fix it
But it breaks
Oh you can try and love it
But it hates
Oh it hates
"I should've rescued you," he says, whisper quiet. She walked past the music room. She even walked quickly so that her elven ears wouldn’t intrude on the conversation happening. But then she heard those words. She knew what those words meant to her wife, how she’d yearned for her father to sweep into that horrible place and take her away, take her somewhere that might have taught her what safety was. But he never did. Because he was in Hell. From what she knew, everything James Redgrove and Sareena Lorallen had gone through was so much worse than her own story. Her story was somewhere between being spoiled in luxury yet having no freedom to enjoy it. Being torn away from her sister while finally escaping her mother. Being free to be herself with people who love her, but rarely being able to tell anyone who she is. She’d wondered why she was so nervous about Sareena’s father and maybe it was just because… he was a father. The woman she loved had deserved and understood that she should have been saved by someone, anyone, but especially her father. But he’d been in Hell and that had remained a fantasy for her whole life until she saved herself. And so, he could be forgiven. For Maelie though…her father had been right there.
This is for everything we had
It's the good and it's the bad
It's the state of love and trust
And this is for you
And this is for us
She was a wretched sobbing mess by the time her mother was finished. Not a hand had been laid on her, but her mother had never needed to. She reserved that for when she was too angry for words. She watched the skirts of her mother’s dress whisk away towards the door; her head held high as if making up for the pathetic state she left her daughter in. The girl knelt on the ground, unmoving, trying to be as small and quiet so as not to draw any more attention in the now silent room. Her father’s chair creaked. Her ears picked up the soft sound of fabric on fabric as he rose. Through bleary eyes she caught sight of his shoes and for one, brief, split second, she stopped crying. But the shoes turned and left her. Silent. Benign. Uninvolved.
Oh will you break my fall
Oh when I climb too high?
I always lose my nerve
It happens every time
Oh will you bring me home
Oh when I'm barely alive
It's the state of love and trust
And this is for you
And this is for us
Mae turns when she gets to the top of the stairs, she had meant to go to her office but instead she walks to Elsinore’s room. Opening the door, quiet as ever, she peeks in on her sleeping daughter. Wrapped in warm blankets with her orange apri-cat curled up next to her, she was peaceful. As Mae gets closer, she notices the ribbons for Sugar’s hair gripped in the little hand that stuck out from the blankets. Her shoes gently make their way to stand next to the bed as Mae leans over to tuck the blankets in, slipping the ribbons out and laying them on the dresser so they don’t get lost if she turns in bed. Then she kisses Elsie’s forehead and promises, “I love you and I will always come to save you.”
This is for everything we had
It's the good and it's the bad
It's the state of love and trust
And this is for you
And this is for us
Oh will you break my fall
Oh when I climb too high?
I always lose my nerve
It happens every time
Oh will you bring me home
Oh when I'm barely alive?
It's the state of love and trust
And this is for you
This is for us
And this is for you
And this is for us
This is for you
This is for us
This is for us.
New Freedom
May 4th, 1884
“Change heading three degrees to port.”
First Officer Vasko’s voice resonated through the bridge. It simultaneously felt like he never raised his voice, yet everyone always heard his orders from one end to the other. His vaguely threatening demeanor was one of the reasons Maelie Arsenault had hired him. Now she had a matching set of vaguely threatening tabaxi. One in the air, and one on the ground.
She walked up to the helm and smiled at the pilot. “I will take it from ‘ere, Monsieur Ascher.”
“Aya-aye Captain.” The dwarf shuffles to the side and moves to another station.
Mae gently adjusts the wheel, feeling the tilt of the ship beneath her feet. “ ‘Ow different dis is den on de water.”
“I do not think it so different.” Vasko replies in his Patlovian accent.
“There’s no waves in the sky.” Mae replies with a grin as she adjusts the speed of the Elemental engine, hearing the distant roar from the far behind her.
“There is wind. And waves will carry you to shore on the ocean. Up here… you just… drop.” Vasko says as a warning.
“Dat is why we ‘ave parachutes and feather fall tokens and scrolls!” She grins brightly as she looks out on the clouds. “Monsieur Vasko, I appreciate your instructions as I learn to pilot but can you per’aps rein in de dour warnings of disaster? I assure you dey ‘ave little effect on me, but de rest of de crew…”
Several of the bridge crew were looking considerably less enthusiastic about the current topic and Vasko let it go with a sigh. Instead, he tilts his head a moment and turns to an observer. “What is wind direction?”
“East-Southeast.”
Turning back to his new captain, “This angle into wind could make turbulence.”
She seems about to dismiss the concern then gives him a more serious look. “Wit’out sacrificing speed, ‘ow do we ‘andle dat?”
The First Officer nods and explains the new heading.
Maelie sipped her coffee in her spacious quarters now. Not as big as her bedroom at home, but not bad for doubling as a traveling office. She was learning quickly and even drew some compliments from her first officer regarding how quickly she was learning to pilot. She glanced at the new set of maps she purchased during the tournaments in Capistrello. Several copies of each of the mountain region along with almanacs and other navigational data. Airships could only go so high into the sky and the burgeoning travel routes were mostly uncharted in those areas as they preferred to avoid the mountains entirely. But mountains were both where an airship could slip across a border undetected and… where dragons might lair, hidden in the cloudy tops of the Shattered Peaks or Samezzano Mountains. Laying out one copy she made notes on a piece of paper, a potential path through the Shattered Peaks. There was enough traffic through there that she didn’t expect many dragons, but it was a good place to start for her new crew. Dragon patrols, smuggling routes, exploration. It was difficult to decide what to do with the sky available to her now. She could go anywhere. It was a whole new kind of freedom.
Maelie sipped her coffee in her spacious quarters now. Not as big as her bedroom at home, but not bad for doubling as a traveling office. She was learning quickly and even drew some compliments from her first officer regarding how quickly she was learning to pilot. She glanced at the new set of maps she purchased during the tournaments in Capistrello. Several copies of each of the mountain region along with almanacs and other navigational data. Airships could only go so high into the sky and the burgeoning travel routes were mostly uncharted in those areas as they preferred to avoid the mountains entirely. But mountains were both where an airship could slip across a border undetected and… where dragons might lair, hidden in the cloudy tops of the Shattered Peaks or Samezzano Mountains. Laying out one copy she made notes on a piece of paper, a potential path through the Shattered Peaks. There was enough traffic through there that she didn’t expect many dragons, but it was a good place to start for her new crew. Dragon patrols, smuggling routes, exploration. It was difficult to decide what to do with the sky available to her now. She could go anywhere. It was a whole new kind of freedom.
Crossing the Board
4th of March, 1884, Novandria, Eisen
She takes Rose from Nel, the reborn’s body weighing blessedly less than she thought it might. Heaving her onto her shoulder she heads down a different alley than her wife and her companions. She worried about how used to this she was getting. She took only a moment to pull her mask on and make a few other adjustments to her clothing to fit perfectly into the guise of the South Ward’s Blade.
"I will very literally slit your throat clean through if you don't stop moving," she says softly but evenly. "And I still might so stop giving me excuses.”
Cardinal’s even and coldblooded threat had surprised and not surprised Maelie all at the same time. Surprised because she’d so rarely seen this cold anger. Not surprised because, for all the hell Sareena Loralen had been through, Mae constantly wondered why she didn’t see this anger more. Almost wondered if it was there at all if not for the painful sounds of her piano and violin when she thought nobody was near the music room. But now Fox was hauling one of the women who had abused and tortured her wife for over twenty years. Hauling her to the docks, a task she’d often thought of doing herself. Thought of how much freer Sareena might live if the Red Lion were burnt down and all those who haunted her nightmares were sent to the bottom of the Arden River. She paid the small skiff to take her out into the bay, unceremoniously dropping Rose into the bottom of the boat. Seeing Sareena tonight, she realizes that if she’d even attempted to deal with Vagabond not only would she likely have wound up in over her head, but her wife would never have found this chance to face it all.
"I don't need to be ready. I'm not alone anymore. But it doesn't really matter either way. None of them are ready for me either. I hope you enjoy the summer lands."
‘None of them are ready for me either.’ She turns the words over in her head, trying to decide whether she always knew the bard had this in her or if this was something entirely different. The thoughts mostly distracted her from her seasickness as the boat makes its way far out into the river. Mae decides it didn’t matter. Sareena always had her music, and her music was life and breath. The spark inside her, the spark she’d fallen in love with, it burns hot and bright now and there was a comfort to see her steadily clearing space for herself in the world. Rose stirred, slowly coming to. She struggled against her bonds, glancing about her new surroundings, and realizing she is not bound for the Summerlands. “You’re all idiots!” She rasps out, her wounds all but untouched since the fight. “Why would anyone spare a single thought for that ruined little whore!?”
"She ain't the one I want dead."
Fox was quite sure the same couldn’t be said for herself. She stands and walks over, momentarily reminded why she hates boats, until she gets close enough to reach Rose, grabbing her by her dress’ neckline, and hauling her to her feet. “She is beautiful, and fierce, and kind, and funny, and brave… she is all of those things and more. And you people saw that and were so affronted that she might someday realize she is all those wonderful things that you decided to try and trample her. All of you treat her like she’s a pawn, a disposable piece, a forgettable existence, but forgetting her… forgetting that she is so much more than you ever let her be. Biggest mistake you keep making.” “Windermere is a Baron, he has more power and connections than you know. Let… let me…” Mae pulls her pistol and jams the barrel against Rose’s chin to shut her up. “You’re probably a Rook. A Knight at best. Windermere and Vagabond? A King and his Bishop. But what’s the most powerful piece on the board?” She shakes her head. “You let the pawn cross the board and now she’s a Queen and she is going to destroy you all.” They were far out in the bay when the gunshot sounded. A couple silver bought the boatman a new anchor when he got back to shore as Mae tied it tightly around Rose’s ankles and let her sink to the bottom of the river.
"I will very literally slit your throat clean through if you don't stop moving," she says softly but evenly. "And I still might so stop giving me excuses.”
Cardinal’s even and coldblooded threat had surprised and not surprised Maelie all at the same time. Surprised because she’d so rarely seen this cold anger. Not surprised because, for all the hell Sareena Loralen had been through, Mae constantly wondered why she didn’t see this anger more. Almost wondered if it was there at all if not for the painful sounds of her piano and violin when she thought nobody was near the music room. But now Fox was hauling one of the women who had abused and tortured her wife for over twenty years. Hauling her to the docks, a task she’d often thought of doing herself. Thought of how much freer Sareena might live if the Red Lion were burnt down and all those who haunted her nightmares were sent to the bottom of the Arden River. She paid the small skiff to take her out into the bay, unceremoniously dropping Rose into the bottom of the boat. Seeing Sareena tonight, she realizes that if she’d even attempted to deal with Vagabond not only would she likely have wound up in over her head, but her wife would never have found this chance to face it all.
"I don't need to be ready. I'm not alone anymore. But it doesn't really matter either way. None of them are ready for me either. I hope you enjoy the summer lands."
‘None of them are ready for me either.’ She turns the words over in her head, trying to decide whether she always knew the bard had this in her or if this was something entirely different. The thoughts mostly distracted her from her seasickness as the boat makes its way far out into the river. Mae decides it didn’t matter. Sareena always had her music, and her music was life and breath. The spark inside her, the spark she’d fallen in love with, it burns hot and bright now and there was a comfort to see her steadily clearing space for herself in the world. Rose stirred, slowly coming to. She struggled against her bonds, glancing about her new surroundings, and realizing she is not bound for the Summerlands. “You’re all idiots!” She rasps out, her wounds all but untouched since the fight. “Why would anyone spare a single thought for that ruined little whore!?”
"She ain't the one I want dead."
Fox was quite sure the same couldn’t be said for herself. She stands and walks over, momentarily reminded why she hates boats, until she gets close enough to reach Rose, grabbing her by her dress’ neckline, and hauling her to her feet. “She is beautiful, and fierce, and kind, and funny, and brave… she is all of those things and more. And you people saw that and were so affronted that she might someday realize she is all those wonderful things that you decided to try and trample her. All of you treat her like she’s a pawn, a disposable piece, a forgettable existence, but forgetting her… forgetting that she is so much more than you ever let her be. Biggest mistake you keep making.” “Windermere is a Baron, he has more power and connections than you know. Let… let me…” Mae pulls her pistol and jams the barrel against Rose’s chin to shut her up. “You’re probably a Rook. A Knight at best. Windermere and Vagabond? A King and his Bishop. But what’s the most powerful piece on the board?” She shakes her head. “You let the pawn cross the board and now she’s a Queen and she is going to destroy you all.” They were far out in the bay when the gunshot sounded. A couple silver bought the boatman a new anchor when he got back to shore as Mae tied it tightly around Rose’s ankles and let her sink to the bottom of the river.
Seventeen Roofs
26th of February, Novandria, Eisen
The Blade sits at her table in the Fox & Feather, listening to the thin peace between the two gang leaders start to fracture. She’d come here after the guild debate wanting to be as far from the guild’s politics and opinions as she could get only to be met by this insignificant crisis. She rolls her eyes and has a sip of her wine before interrupting the two.
“The Splinters will stop their activities at Wald St, the Copper Knives won’t pass Adelbert.” She says simply as the two turn to look at her.
“But there’s still…”
“Lina St, yes, neither of you will go there.” She interrupts again.
“But who…”
“Fucking nobody, that’s who!” She raises her voice. “Nobody until I fucking say so! I asked that you two sort this out, that I didn’t want to hear about more of your gangs staggering into the clinics with knife wounds. But instead, you brought this to my table to blame each other like children. I am not your bloody mother! I have better things to do! So, if you can’t sort it out, I will. This is what you fucking get. Now, you can also get-out.” She points down the stairs to the tavern door. “Unless you want to visit a clinic yourselves…” She adds when they don’t move, Marci and Ghurak crack their knuckles as she gestures to them next.
The two leave in a mixture of stompy-feet and fearful-haste with the two bouncers following them down to the main level. Once the Blade’s appointment was gone, the orc takes his intimidating position by the door while Marci reclaims her table by the stairs. Fox sighs and drains her wine glass as Annix comes up the stairs to bring her a new bottle.
“You’re in a mood,” they say as they pour their boss another glass. She squints at the bartender, “don’t you start on me too…” “Trouble up North?” “Maudit…” She mutters. “I’m a bartender, you ain’t gonna hide that shit from me.” “Just… differences of opinions.” She shakes her head. “It’s not even that I disagree or… I just…” “Get yourself home before she comes in here to drag you back. For your own dignity. None of us are going to stop her if she does.” She narrows her eyes, “right.” “Your three o’clock is here.” She quips heading down the stairs. “It’s half passed midnight!” She calls after her, startling the small goblin that approaches her table.
The short green figure pulls off his hat and wrings it in his hands nervously. “Ah, greetings bladses ma’am. I am Kooks.” She gestures to the chair. As he sits, she takes her time to pull out a wooden pipe and a tin of tobacco, her newly acquired habit for late nights. “So, Kooks, what brings you to my table?” “Oh well, I was hoping you might have works for me to do. I need works. I works with shinies. Then I gets the shinies. Then I can pay for roofs” He rambles. Fox follows the ramble as she lights her pipe. “Roofs. One, two?” “Seventeen.” She blinks her green eyes and almost forgets to exhale. “Seven…teen? You need to pay for seventeen houses?” “Seventeen under the roofs.” He corrects nervously. She pales for a moment. “You have seventeen children? Fodla bless your spouse…” “Well, yes and no, many are sister’s. She sent from Kemberg.” “Ah. Kemberg.” She mutters and distracts herself with another puff of smoke, focusing on the feeling of the tobacco as she pushes memories of the dragon attack out of her mind. She opens her eyes, not realizing she’d closed them, to look him over and spots a jeweler’s guild apprentice pin. She gestures with her pipe, “it looks like you already have work.” The goblin looks down and shakes his head. “Not anymore. Not enough work, Master said can’t pay anymore. Said come back next year. Now I not enough shinies to pay for roofs. Lord Carlson says if I have seventeen people I need to pay for seventeen roofs.” Fox exhales slowly, her voice a dark whisper. “How many roofs do you actually have Kooks?” “One roofs.” Kooks looks up at her. “But seventeen people need shinies for seventeen roofs.” She realizes he is probably stating it as matter-of-factly as his landlord said it to him. “That’s a lot of shinies.” He nods, hands wringing his hat back into the threads it was made from. “I… I am good worker. I work with shinies all the time.” “You realize… this kind of work with shinies. Your guild would be quite upset with you if they found out.” “Family…more important than Guild.” The Blade grins at him. “I’m glad to hear that. Come back in two days.”
Carlson’s name had come up several times in the last few weeks since the dragon attacks. More people had moved to the cheaper apartments of the South Ward after being evicted from further north. To make matters worse, Carlson had bought up a number of the new developments in the former-Warrens and predictably hiked the rent. But, while Kooks’ wasn’t the first family that had had their rent increased due to the number of people living in the house or apartment, it was the first Fox had heard of such ridiculous metrics. “Seventeen.” She mutters to herself as she glances at the Carlson estate. “Carlson looks like he has room for seventeen. Time I collect his rent.” She glides over the fence and towards the North Ward manor like a shadow. A flick of her wand lets her see which windows and doors have magical alarms and their boundaries. After picking a window she teleports into the darkened hallway beyond. A step to the side, a moment to register the sounds of the sleeping residents, and then her silent steps move her towards the dining room. Carlson was typical of Eisen’s minor nobility. Knights, Lords, and Ladies more concerned with their futile attempts to aggrandize themselves than with actually making themselves useful to society. The only point of interest she’d heard about this particular waste of noble blood was that his dining set was extravagant.
Reaching the display cases on the far side of the dining room she sees the etched crystal set of glasses, gem studded bowls, and silver-lined plates. ‘Gaudy,’ the thief thinks as she looks the set over, before turning her attention back to the case. An alarm spell, a bell, and a lock that compromises security for appearance. The metal of the pins was too soft and probably needs to be replaced regularly as even using a key would ruin it over time. Fox doesn’t waste her own time and after scrubbing the alarm sigils, she unceremoniously rakes the lock open. Setting her bag on the nearby table and taking out a stack of small cotton squares her hands set about relieving the lord of his insufferably expensive conversation piece. ‘The crystal is nice,’ she notes and considers keeping a couple for her study at home as she wraps and tucks them away. Her deft hands pick through the shelves in efficient and smooth motions relocating their contents to her bag of holding. She considers relocking the display case but decides leaving it wide open would give Carlson a clear view of the empty oak shelves in the morning. With a silent casting of an invisibility spell, she was gone.
The goblin jeweler returns to the Fox & Feather two days later, again being directed up the stairs to the Blade’s table, her face hidden behind the evening Aurora. “Good day ma’am bladses.” He says with the same nerves as before. “I have work for you. A dinner set, gems pulled out, metals melted down, and refashioned into something else. You can do that?” She asks without looking up from her paper. “Oh yeses! I can do all the works on these shinies for you.” He says with a grin, a sliver of relief passing through him. She slides a piece of paper to him, still not looking up. “You’ll work out of this address.” He takes the paper. “Thankses ma’ams bladses.” “The house has space for a workshop in the back. It’s an old boarding house.” she says flatly. “I gotsit ma’amses, I will work every night.” He stammers. “There are seventeen beds.” “Huh?” the goblin says, caught off guard. “There are seventeen beds. The landlord only expects payment for one roof.” Her voice repeats before she glances from the paper to him. “You should get started.” “Yes ma’am!” Fox rolls her eyes hard as the goblin backs away bowing over and over before practically running out the door. She raises the paper up to her face to hide her smile.
“Mood’s improved?” Annix asks Fox as she’s closing the bar. “Just needed to get back to what I’m good at.” “Nothing to do with helping the downtrodden and forgotten?” “Annix.” She says in mock chastisement. “Everyone knows the South Ward’s Blade is a selfish, greedy, reckless thief who you need to be careful around cause she’ll turn your misfortunes into her own profit. Don’t go ruining my reputation.” The bartender shakes her head at the Blade as she leaves the Fox & Feather for home.
If only you
You could see
The darkest place that you could be
Oh maybe then you'd understand
From desert heat to cobbled streets
From broken home to the city beat
There's so much more than you could know
“You’re in a mood,” they say as they pour their boss another glass. She squints at the bartender, “don’t you start on me too…” “Trouble up North?” “Maudit…” She mutters. “I’m a bartender, you ain’t gonna hide that shit from me.” “Just… differences of opinions.” She shakes her head. “It’s not even that I disagree or… I just…” “Get yourself home before she comes in here to drag you back. For your own dignity. None of us are going to stop her if she does.” She narrows her eyes, “right.” “Your three o’clock is here.” She quips heading down the stairs. “It’s half passed midnight!” She calls after her, startling the small goblin that approaches her table.
So take me back
When I believed
Back when I was unafraid
Just like a thief
And all the heights
That I could reach
Back when I was unafraid
Just like a thief
The short green figure pulls off his hat and wrings it in his hands nervously. “Ah, greetings bladses ma’am. I am Kooks.” She gestures to the chair. As he sits, she takes her time to pull out a wooden pipe and a tin of tobacco, her newly acquired habit for late nights. “So, Kooks, what brings you to my table?” “Oh well, I was hoping you might have works for me to do. I need works. I works with shinies. Then I gets the shinies. Then I can pay for roofs” He rambles. Fox follows the ramble as she lights her pipe. “Roofs. One, two?” “Seventeen.” She blinks her green eyes and almost forgets to exhale. “Seven…teen? You need to pay for seventeen houses?” “Seventeen under the roofs.” He corrects nervously. She pales for a moment. “You have seventeen children? Fodla bless your spouse…” “Well, yes and no, many are sister’s. She sent from Kemberg.” “Ah. Kemberg.” She mutters and distracts herself with another puff of smoke, focusing on the feeling of the tobacco as she pushes memories of the dragon attack out of her mind. She opens her eyes, not realizing she’d closed them, to look him over and spots a jeweler’s guild apprentice pin. She gestures with her pipe, “it looks like you already have work.” The goblin looks down and shakes his head. “Not anymore. Not enough work, Master said can’t pay anymore. Said come back next year. Now I not enough shinies to pay for roofs. Lord Carlson says if I have seventeen people I need to pay for seventeen roofs.” Fox exhales slowly, her voice a dark whisper. “How many roofs do you actually have Kooks?” “One roofs.” Kooks looks up at her. “But seventeen people need shinies for seventeen roofs.” She realizes he is probably stating it as matter-of-factly as his landlord said it to him. “That’s a lot of shinies.” He nods, hands wringing his hat back into the threads it was made from. “I… I am good worker. I work with shinies all the time.” “You realize… this kind of work with shinies. Your guild would be quite upset with you if they found out.” “Family…more important than Guild.” The Blade grins at him. “I’m glad to hear that. Come back in two days.”
If I could live a thousand times
If I could make a thousand tries
Maybe then I'd get it right
The more I see, the more I know
That everyone just wants a show
No we don't want to see the truth
Carlson’s name had come up several times in the last few weeks since the dragon attacks. More people had moved to the cheaper apartments of the South Ward after being evicted from further north. To make matters worse, Carlson had bought up a number of the new developments in the former-Warrens and predictably hiked the rent. But, while Kooks’ wasn’t the first family that had had their rent increased due to the number of people living in the house or apartment, it was the first Fox had heard of such ridiculous metrics. “Seventeen.” She mutters to herself as she glances at the Carlson estate. “Carlson looks like he has room for seventeen. Time I collect his rent.” She glides over the fence and towards the North Ward manor like a shadow. A flick of her wand lets her see which windows and doors have magical alarms and their boundaries. After picking a window she teleports into the darkened hallway beyond. A step to the side, a moment to register the sounds of the sleeping residents, and then her silent steps move her towards the dining room. Carlson was typical of Eisen’s minor nobility. Knights, Lords, and Ladies more concerned with their futile attempts to aggrandize themselves than with actually making themselves useful to society. The only point of interest she’d heard about this particular waste of noble blood was that his dining set was extravagant.
So take me back
When I believed
Back when I was unafraid
Just like a thief
And all the heights
That I could reach
Back when I was unafraid
Just like a thief
Reaching the display cases on the far side of the dining room she sees the etched crystal set of glasses, gem studded bowls, and silver-lined plates. ‘Gaudy,’ the thief thinks as she looks the set over, before turning her attention back to the case. An alarm spell, a bell, and a lock that compromises security for appearance. The metal of the pins was too soft and probably needs to be replaced regularly as even using a key would ruin it over time. Fox doesn’t waste her own time and after scrubbing the alarm sigils, she unceremoniously rakes the lock open. Setting her bag on the nearby table and taking out a stack of small cotton squares her hands set about relieving the lord of his insufferably expensive conversation piece. ‘The crystal is nice,’ she notes and considers keeping a couple for her study at home as she wraps and tucks them away. Her deft hands pick through the shelves in efficient and smooth motions relocating their contents to her bag of holding. She considers relocking the display case but decides leaving it wide open would give Carlson a clear view of the empty oak shelves in the morning. With a silent casting of an invisibility spell, she was gone.
When the stars look down on me
What do they see
When the stars look down on me
What do they see
The goblin jeweler returns to the Fox & Feather two days later, again being directed up the stairs to the Blade’s table, her face hidden behind the evening Aurora. “Good day ma’am bladses.” He says with the same nerves as before. “I have work for you. A dinner set, gems pulled out, metals melted down, and refashioned into something else. You can do that?” She asks without looking up from her paper. “Oh yeses! I can do all the works on these shinies for you.” He says with a grin, a sliver of relief passing through him. She slides a piece of paper to him, still not looking up. “You’ll work out of this address.” He takes the paper. “Thankses ma’ams bladses.” “The house has space for a workshop in the back. It’s an old boarding house.” she says flatly. “I gotsit ma’amses, I will work every night.” He stammers. “There are seventeen beds.” “Huh?” the goblin says, caught off guard. “There are seventeen beds. The landlord only expects payment for one roof.” Her voice repeats before she glances from the paper to him. “You should get started.” “Yes ma’am!” Fox rolls her eyes hard as the goblin backs away bowing over and over before practically running out the door. She raises the paper up to her face to hide her smile.
So take me back
When I believed
Back when I was unafraid
Just like a thief
And all the heights
That I could reach
Back when I was unafraid
Just like a thief
“Mood’s improved?” Annix asks Fox as she’s closing the bar. “Just needed to get back to what I’m good at.” “Nothing to do with helping the downtrodden and forgotten?” “Annix.” She says in mock chastisement. “Everyone knows the South Ward’s Blade is a selfish, greedy, reckless thief who you need to be careful around cause she’ll turn your misfortunes into her own profit. Don’t go ruining my reputation.” The bartender shakes her head at the Blade as she leaves the Fox & Feather for home.
The World without Colour
18th of February, 1884, Bellancourt, Montaigne,
She sat at the piano, her hands on the keys extracting dark, sombre sounds that filled the grand hall. Or at least, it would look grand if it wasn’t pitch black but the eladrin rarely turned the radiant lanterns on. It didn’t matter to her if there was light enough to see, she’d lost the world of colours twenty years ago.
Her dull green eyes followed the black and white notes on the page and her hands followed along. Her mother had chosen the piece, as she did everything the young woman did. Her clothes, her hair, her readings, her words, her deeds. All of it. She wasn’t really a person, merely a doll that could be animated by a puppeteer.
It had taken years for her mother to appreciate any of her daughter’s natural talents, but once she did, she found her own ways to use them. Fake smiles, dexterous hands, and a deadly accuracy with blade and firearm, she turned her surviving daughter into a weapon to wield against her enemies. She moved through the darkened estates of those who challenged her mother as easily as she did the Court. The war had only made it easier.
Death hung off her like a cloak. She could feel the souls of those she’d recently killed clinging to her, screaming in her dreams or whispering when she was alone. She ignored them, because she knew they would have been happy to see her die in their place. Many had been planning it, like they had all those years ago. Planned to kill her, her mother, and her father… just like they killed her sister.
So, she killed them first and ignored their screams with the same blank look she gave the music her mother had chosen for her. Even once her mother was gone, the work would continue. Hunting down those who espoused the revolutionary ideals that had taken her sister’s life. They would never succeed. A promise made upon her sister’s grave.
The melancholy of the song was the only hint of who she might have become had things been different.
What's Left to the Shadows
22nd of January, 1884, Novandria
As Fox watched the news in Montaigne and Patlov take a skeptical stance towards the dragon attacks she became sure foreign aid would be scarce. So she did what she did best, she used the black market to get what she needed. She turned every smuggling operation under her control to bring in food, building supplies, and medicine.
And to make the purchases... well, the nobles wouldn't need their shiny silverware and glittering jewellery. She had felt helpless struggling to move rubble yesterday to save people. But theft? Fox was born for it.
And let them talk about opportunistic criminals. Nobles complaining about losing a crystal goblet weren't her concern. Her's were the South Ward, the people last on the list for rations, for shelter, for medicine. Her people.
Would the Syndicate profit? Maybe. She'd balance the books however the higher ups wanted. But she'd cut through the red tape of customs, the Nobles First disbursement, and get her people what they needed.
Fox needed to move, couldn't bear to stand still, couldn't bear to let her mind wander to the image of poison and fire engulfing her wife. Of her chatty friend falling silent. Of their stalwart cleric falling down. Of her chaotic best friend staring blankly at the plainness of the dragon's cruelty.
But her legs wobbled and her fingers were raw from moving broken stone. So, she sat at the Fox & Feather late into the night and gave orders to the shadows of the city.
Day to Night
7th of January, 1884
Maelie Arsenault always wakes up late in the morning. Shuffling out of bed, her hair a wild mess, she sits herself at the vanity and begins the process of making herself presentable. A few minutes after signs of life have made their way into the hall, Clover comes in with a tray of coffee and breakfast. She sets the coffee where Mae can reach and then helps wrangle her hair into a neat bun while Stacia follows in to begin setting out clothes.
The women chitchat about the manor, neighborhood, and shopping needs until their mistress is sufficiently dressed for Mordecai to enter and present her with a schedule of appointments. There follows sighing and pleas to reschedule a particularly insufferable appointment to another day, but the tabaxi holds firm, knowing the cascade this will create in the lady’s already full schedule. Leaving a folio on the side of the vanity, he and the others retreat to their respective duties in the household. Taking one last look at herself, the elf gathers the folio, her coat, and changes into her boots before heading downstairs to meet Jenna at the door, carriage ready to depart.
The first stop is the Dashwood Club for lunch appointments. Meetings with clients scheduling expeditions, business partnerships, and property acquisitions for conservation land. She handles each with her usual mix of cheerful socializing and subtle jabs. Noble clients often tried to walk over the young woman with no title, especially if Declan wasn’t present, but instead found themselves trapped by an opponent who knew the game they played better than they did. Her every word was measured for the semi-private venue’s busy lunchtime, her voice never rises or falls too much, but each statement she makes is a step ahead in the duel.
Maelie finishes her lunch hour with interviews of new rangers from the Naturalist’s Guild. If they were of noble birth, she’d usually have met them on an expedition as their families took that step thinking it gave them a better chance. To Mae, it simply meant she didn’t have to ask for as many references or send them out for a field test with Declan. Just as many nobles were turned down for having acted arrogantly or incompetently on a previous hunt as were hired. Her only extra requirement of the non-nobles was a field test or a reference from the Naturalist’s Guild. Both had their advantages, the noble born created better social dynamics with the clients, furthering the outfitters appeal as a social venue. On the other hand, the common born came without all those dynamics and Mae simply had to ensure they were respected and given what they needed for the job. In fact, she recognized that many of them quickly developed the social acumen to deal with nobles just as well as those who grew up in that world.
The next set of stops were social calls for the rest of the afternoon. Visiting friends, neighbors, or clients she wanted to maintain contact with. Sometimes a pleasant afternoon tea, sometimes an insufferable length of time that made her want to pierce her eardrums, but her expression maintained the same cheerful demeanor as lunch. Most of these appointments were voluntary to some degree after all.
This part of her afternoon would otherwise be broken up by visits to government offices for business or property paperwork, or the barrister’s guild for the same. Mordecai did his best to have all the paperwork in order so there was often little to do aside from sign.
And finally, dinner approached, she returned home to change into appropriate attire before going out to whatever social events she’d been invited to. Walking back into her room, Clover and Stacia had her outfit prepared while Mordecai gave her a rundown of who would be attending. Maelie enjoyed the luxurious dresses, shining jewelry, and pleasant perfumes she got to wear for the night, but most of it was still an act, there were goals to meet, specific words that needed to be said, and not said. Less and less was she able to relax at home, with dinner from her own kitchen, with her family. In either case, she kept up her cheerful and carefree smile until it was appropriate to depart for home once again.
Or not.
Once night fell, there was always the possibility of new business. A discrete note passed to her, a letter waiting with Jenna as she stepped back into the carriage, or her own off-the-books project that needed attention. In the carriage, Maelie’s smile disappeared as she changed from bright dresses to dark leathers. Exchanging the disguise of the day for the evening attire of the South Ward’s Blade, she pulled up her hood and deftly slipped out of the carriage, leaving Jenna to return the fictional Maelie Arsenault to her home.
Now, a new game has begun. The thief stalked through the streets, quickly finding her way through the Central Ward down to the hole in the wall of the South known as the Fox & Feather. Here, the Blade had to have another round of meetings with pickpockets, fences, smugglers, loan sharks, and her other criminal compatriots. Just like the nobles and clients, they all wanted something… only this time, Fox was unambiguously the one with the upper hand and she dealt those hands as she saw fit. Hood back, she put on a rotating array of disguises, but her expression rarely needed to be as controlled. Here, she was allowed to laugh at incredulous demands, sneer at disgusting proposals, and flash a lethal grin at those who might try to defy her. The new Blade was quickly gaining a reputation for not dealing lightly.
Philippe had wanted a velvet glove over the iron first and that’s what he got. She didn’t let anything fall out of the Syndicate’s hands. Contraband, gambling profits, black markets, and information, any of it that touched the South Ward she ensured the organization got their due. The fighting pits from Marlene’s era were less popular as Fox refused to entrap people into participating in the blood sport. She also rolled her eyes and dismissed most of the loan sharks asking her to send leg-breakers after poor folk. With a wave of her hand, she sent them from her table with the advice to stop loaning money to people that can’t pay it back, it’s incompetent business at best. For the most part, she wasn’t popular with Marlene’s old cadre, but the pickpockets, fences, and smugglers were quickly growing smiles as their pockets filled.
Sometime after last call, when Fox was done holding court for the underworld, she stepped back out into the deserted dark streets of Novandria. If she was lucky, the night was clear, and the stars were out as she scaled the nearest building to the rooftops. Then, finally, she was free.
For these few precious hours before dawn there would be no fake smiles. No social dynamics to maneuver through. No personalities to negotiate with. No criminals to send on a job or keep in line. She wasn’t a businesswoman, a boss, a wife, a friend, or a mother. Fox was a thief, and she went out to do what she did best. Sometimes that meant unlocking jewelry cases to snatch diamonds. Sometimes it meant unraveling the puzzle of a goldsmith’s vault. And sometimes it just meant casing a noble estate for when an opportunity presents itself another night.
Her body moved on its own, movements practiced year after year since she’d first fallen through the cracks and into this life, but it was her hands that had the most fun. Each click of a lock, the deft soft slide of an open window, the careful plucking of her bounties from their resting places. She imagined the feeling she got was something akin to Sareena’s need to breathe in her music. And only under Sephira’s night sky and with Steyfano’s cleverness was she free to do all this. Alone.
Here, there were no clients. No stuck-up nobles. No friends with conflicting morals. No commentary. No arguments. No one.
She occasionally ran into others doing second-story work. Burglars climbing in the window of a large home or shop. A cart being loaded behind a warehouse in the dead of night. Pickpockets lifting the wallet out of a drunk noble’s pocket as they wandered away from a seedy brothel. But none of them concerned Fox. She didn’t talk to them. She knew they weren’t here for the same reason. She knew they weren’t like her.
The dark of night let her indulge all the impulses she suppressed through the day. In truth, she didn’t need a business, she didn’t need high society connections, she didn’t need a house, or luxuries, or the mountain of wealth she kept spread across anonymous accounts from Novandria to Capistrello. This is what Fox needed. To be free of the expectations, the moralizing, the social conventions, the people, the friends, and the enemies. They all thought she was crazy anyway. Nobody since Kallie and Mika had understood her need to move through the night like this, seeking out the challenges and overcoming them.
This was something for her alone. Sareena and Victor had too many concerns. Elsinore would hopefully never find out. Even her friends that knew performed twists of logic and reason to make what she did okay. So, Fox kept it to herself now. These nights belonged to her.
Her feet often didn’t touch the balcony of her bedroom until the first rays of dawn broke the horizon to dispel the night. Fox let herself in, peeled off her nightly attire before stepping into a hot bath to ease her muscles. Afterwards, she crawled into her enormous bed and buried herself in blankets and pillows for the strictly minimum amount of sleep an elf required. Her aunt and uncle had given her a second lease on life and she refused to waste a second of it.
Fallen through the cracks
6th of January, 1884 - Novandria
The freezing wind howled by her as she sat in the middle of Ten Tower Bridge, far above the carriage traffic and further from the cold dark waters of the Ardan. To her left, the bright lights of the Noble Island glimmered. To her right, the stratified wards it ruled stretched north to south, rich to poor. And here she sat in the middle, unsure of where she belonged. Lately, it felt like nowhere.
When she’d fallen off that carriage it was as if she’d fallen through the cracks in the cobblestones and straight out of the world. Without a proper place, she’d had to keep her feet moving to stay afloat. Not a problem when she lived with Kallie and Mika, always on the move, always looking for another heist and adventure.
Now her feet were planted. A wife, a mother. A friend, a business partner. An adventurer, a crime boss. She wanted to use everything she had to be the best at all these things. To do good for the sake of the people she cared about. For the responsibility she felt to fix what so many of her blood had broken in the only ways she knew how.
But… stopping meant letting her past catch up with the bundle of emotions that clashed with people close to her. She felt as if, by virtue of luck and privilege, she was unworthy of anything good. The imperative was both to do good in the world and get out of the way of those who had it harder. Those who were desperate.
“But I know none of you understand what you will do to live when the options are awful.”
‘I do know. I’d do nothing and die.’
When she’d fallen from the carriage and been bleeding out onto the stones… her immediate thought had been ‘good, it’s over.’ She’d never had the chance to be desperate, never had options as a child. Her life had been trapped on rails and she’d suffered through it. She’d skipped over desperation into the bleak, grey-scale world of despair.
And now… it felt like it was back. Her eyes looked at the city from her perch in black and white. Plenty to navigate by, but she felt herself having difficulty distinguishing a reason to bother. So, she sat in the middle of the bridge between all the worlds people found places in and suffered the cold wind.
Promise
25th of December, 1883 - Novandria
“I never want you to be afraid or alone."
‘Like I was. Like we were.’ She thinks as her mind shifts back to the lonely days in libraries and courts, surrounded by people but feeling horribly alone.
“I love you. What should I call you?”
What should Elsinore call her? She stutters it out, unsure how to say the word without the usual note of disdain and the feelings of rejection and chastisement that she’d associated it with her entire adult life.
"Maman... if you like."
If that’s what she wants. If that’s what she needs. She’d been dozens of personas through her life as a thief. Convincing, deceptive, always with an eye on the prize. But none of that was helpful here.
“Maman. Elvish for mommy? Maman.”
The hopeful tone of the girl’s voice hit home. She was no longer sure who was adopting who as she listens to the young voice test the word, changing its meaning with each syllable.
"Oui." She says softly.
It’s all she can manage. She realizes, deep down, she had always wanted to call her aunt, Kallie Beauchamp, that name. Maman, a parent, a person who would be there no matter what, who listened, who fought for you, who protected you, who loved you in a way that had no comparison. She’d waited too long, and Aunt had settled into that space, but deep down she knew.
“Maman, then.”
Mae's expression struggles between melting and panic, so instead she just smothers her daughter in a hug. Holding her tightly as she tries to hide her tears.
Silently she made a promise to her daughter: ‘I will never betray this. I will never give you reason to be afraid of that word. I promise that when you call that name, I will answer your hope with everything I have to offer my dear daughter.’
The wound that won't close
18th of December, 1883 - Novandria
“Maman? What did you think when you gave birth to me? Was there ever a time where I was… something more than a piece on your chessboard?” she asks aloud. “Did I ever make you happy?”
Mae lay on her bed, staring up at the canopy with a blank expression. “I hate this. I want to know… how to be a parent, a mother, but all I can think of is how empty you made me feel… and how I never want any child to feel like that. But, if I’m as clueless of how to make a child feel loved as you were…”
She rolls over, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to herself. “Why did you have to hurt me like this? Why can’t I just… forget you? The only reason I wish you weren’t dead was so I could get some gods-damned answers for all this!” She sobs into her pillow.
Everyone was trying to reassure her. Sareena. Victor. Muse. Nel. But when she laid her head down at night, her mind turned back to these thoughts. Back to the idea that she was her mother’s daughter. The newest runaway nobles didn’t help. They reminded her that for all their infuriating behaviour she was just as bad. No, she was probably worse.
“I need to move.” Her muffled voice said into the bedding before she finally dragged herself to her feet. It was the dead of night as she moved around her dark room, getting dressed in her dark coat, hood, and thiefwear. She closed her balcony door behind her and slipped over the railing and was gone.
Something Good
October 31, 1883 - Novandria
Where's your life boat?
It's not so simple
You've got to take a chance for all you been through and lost
Let the walls come crumblin'
You better ho-ho-hope something good
For a while, Maelie wasn’t sure what had changed as the week after the wedding progressed. At first, she’d thought it was just the happy atmosphere around the manor, even Mordecai seemed in a better mood since the ceremony. Maybe it was the soft touches and kisses in the hallways whenever they passed each other during their daily routines. Maybe it was security that she’d managed to deal with the baggage that had been following her for the last year.
Are you gonna dance your heart into the moment?
Are you gonna lie to yourself in attempt to reason?
Are you gonna hold yourself so highly regarded?
Oh-oh-oh something good happens to you
As a part of me in love with you
And as a part of me
You better, you better hope that something good happens to you
It struck her when she was sitting in her office doing the mundane and unexciting work of business plans and proposals for her new projects. Mordecai droned on, something to do with where to slip the income from her recent heists into the books, when Maelie blinked and looked at her desk, then at the tabaxi, then out the window. She could hear Sareena playing the piano. She could smell Monsieur Bocuse’s cooking downstairs. She could hear the clinking of tea on a cart in the hall where Clover was tidying up from the afternoon.
Where's your life gone,
has it been a little bit evil?
You've gotta take a chance before it's all said and done
Complicated,
something easy
Ho-ho-hope something good
Oh you better ho-ho-hope something good happens to you
As a part of me in love with you
And as a part of me
Her entire life she’d looked back on her past, trying to make sense of it. Trying to find mistakes that needed correcting, opportunities she better not miss the next time, lessons to be learned, wounds that to be closed. But today, she looked forward. She could plan for a future that didn’t compensate for her past. No more late-night musing, feeling lonely and weighed down, like it was all on her to figure out by herself.
Are you gonna dance alone?
Are you gonna lie to yourself, babe?
Are you gonna take your time?
Are you gonna hold on?
This wonderful thing had happened to her, and she felt that comforting feeling of knowing you are awake when you’ve been afraid that it was just a dream.
Are you gonna dance your heart into the moment?
Are you gonna lie to yourself in attempt to reason?
Are you gonna hold yourself so highly regarded?
Ho-ho-hope something good happens to you
As a part of me in love with you
And as a part of me
“Is this what it was like for you two?” She asked to the pendants she carried wherever she went now. “Thank you for giving me this chance.”
Are you gonna dance alone?
Are you gonna lie to yourself, babe?
Are you gonna start with a head on the good-bye?
Are you gonna hold on, are you gonna hold on?
The New Blade
13th of September, 1883
The streets were darkening when the pickpocket dashed into the alleyway to shake off the pursuit. Just fast enough to get out of sight before the merchant kept running around the street corner. Now, the young half-elf dashes down the rest of the alley and turns a corner to run behind the shops. Her work had become harder lately, the Warrens were changing, the streets too wide and well-lit to easily tail someone. The constant bustle of workers meant more eyes in the streets. She’d gone three days without so much as bread, so she clung to the coin purse for survival.
Turning to get back to the streets, she finds a hooded figure leaning against the wall at the mouth of the alley. Not blocking her path, but uncomfortable to pass by. Swallowing softly, calming herself she starts walking casually out of the alley.
“Not a bad pick, but the break was a bit… could have been cleaner.”
She thinks about not answering, but the figure shifts, just a little more in the way. Her fingers tighten on the small pouch, probably not more than some copper, maybe a silver if she was lucky. Why did these thugs always need to take even the meager spoils she managed.
“So, you think you’re entitled to it? Going to charge me for your critique?” She says as she takes a step back.
“Do I look like I need six copper and a silver piece?” The figure’s wry smile was all she could see of the woman’s face.
She didn’t. The cloth of the stranger’s clothing was too fine, too clean, the coat well-tailored, the hood clearly of elven make. “You’re with them.” She says tersely. “…but that’s never stopped you from taking, has it?”
“Please don’t lump me in with the rest of them.” She groans. “I don’t try to draw blood from stones. By the by, did you happen to hear what that merchant was talking about while you were in his pocket?”
“I might have…” The pickpocket says, gently taking a step back.
The hooded woman flicks her a coin which she catches. The colour, the shine, silver. “They were talking about a shipment coming in, off the books from Castille.”
“Ah… already trying to act independently…” She shakes her head. “Time?”
She hesitates, glancing at the coin. “After midnight.”
“You could have asked for more.” Another coin flies her way. “Didn’t I give you enough for a guild membership a couple months ago?”
She squints, recognizing the voice. “That was you? Yeah, but… I didn’t get in anywhere.”
“Not the laborers?” The hood tilts.
“They aren’t taking anyone until they sort things with the factory workers.” She shrugs. “Or I was too skinny…”
“Well, you have good ears, that’s worth something.” The elf pulls back the hood and gives the young half-elf a soft smile. “I don’t intend to take from people in the South, no point when there’s bigger pockets and vaults up north. But everything coming into and out of the city passes through my Ward. So, I don’t want what’s in your pocket or anyone else’s that’s yours. I want what you hear, what you see, what you know. Pass that to my ear and I’ll pass you coin. Tell your friends.”
She hesitates to agree.
“It’s not a pie. You tell me this merchant knows about the shipment. Someone else tells me a sailor plans to meet the ship at the same time. I now know that both are involved. That’s worthwhile above the words they actually say.” She says reassuringly.
“So you’re making me your spy?” She says uneasily.
“I’m not making you anything kid, I’m giving you a chance since nobody else is. Everyone should get a chance. I did.” She tilts her head. “What’s your name?”
“Tay.” She replies quietly.
“Well, Tay. I’m Fox. Pleased to meet you.”
"You're not like the others..." She says, some mixture of wariness and hope.
"If you believe one thing I tell you kid, it's that there's nobody else like me out there. Trust me, I looked."
It wasn't him.
28th of September, 1883, Novandria
The moment he drew breath she ran.
She’d spent the entire evening digging through his lies and evasions.
None of it felt like Victor,
but it was his face.
She’d gone behind his back. Went through his things. Cornered him. Interrogated him. Then held him at gunpoint. All the things she swore she’d never do again.
It wasn’t Victor, but it was his voice.
He’d berated her. Gaslit her. Reminded her of how selfish and callous she could be. He’d reminded her just how cold her heart could get.
It wasn’t Victor, but it was his storm grey eyes
daring her to pull the trigger.
He knew her, only Victor could know all these ways to hurt her. All these private moments, all her slipups.
She slipped out a window and landed softly before dashing into the garden where she didn’t have to face him after that. She just… couldn’t, not right now. He had everyone else, loving hugs and bright warmth to welcome him home. She was too broken after that encounter. She didn't want him to see how much it hurt her. So, she ran.
It wasn’t Victor, but it was the presence that made her feel safe,
and in that space, she’d just had her heart rended and it all felt the same.
A Snake, a Star, and a Fox
25th of September, 1883, Novandria
To my dearest Chloe,
I hope you never have need of this compartment but I know if you do, you will be clever enough to look. I have kept two items here. The first is information you may find important. The second, this letter, is to tell you how proud your aunt and I are of you. If we are not there to tell you, fate must have finally turned on us but you should know that you are the daughter of our heart and our lives and we love you like our own and always have. Your vibrance, your energy, your intelligence - and your hunger for discovery and love are all we could have asked for in this life or any other. If we have been separated or are gone, please know, dearest little fox, you are in our hearts forever and we pray you will find love and happiness.
Love always,
Mika
Dearest Chloe, I am writing this because he cannot - or never will. It was a disastrous night and one that has come back to haunt us. You must remember that we did not intend or plan for it go such. It was all a terrible accident. Mika would never hurt anyone so on purpose - nevermind kill anyone. You must know that and not lose faith in him. It was a subterfuge gone wrong, a chance to steal some jewels from the Castillian palace with the help of some of the staff. You know Castille - all old money and no sense. A young man found him on the way out. He tried to stop Mika from leaving and was knocked from the window in the process. It was bad, Chloe, but we didn't realize how bad until days later. His name was Raphael de Aragon de Castille. The nephew of the king. The king was also not the problem. The boy's mother was. Chloe, I think she's following us. And I don't think she will give up. Please know we didn't intend this. There's no time. I hope you never read this, my love. Kallie
Deep in the night, Fox was sitting atop the aeroport towers by herself, looking at the objects in her hands. Her eyes drifted between the letters and the holy symbols of her aunt and uncle. Their words, their devotion, their love. All that she had left of them was two sheets of paper and these amulets. She didn’t want to think about why Leonessa had kept the holy symbols, what twisted concept of a trophy she had considered the badges of Sephira and Steyfano’s clerics. Instead, she just let herself hold them and be thankful that she at least had these as mementos.
Seventeen out of thirty-one years they’d watched over her. Seen her grow from a scared little girl that couldn’t see colour to a carefree, risk-taking, young woman. They’d taken her out into the world and given her freedom and love. From Nicodemus’ doorstep they took her and brought her out under the stars and given her so much, including their very lives, to keep her safe.
She blinked back tears again. “Why?” She asks into the wind. “Why did you do all that for me? You didn’t know me. You just… showed up and picked me up… I don’t know… if I can believe that… I gave you near enough back…”
She’d held it back after the duel when she found the amulets, but now that she was alone, it all came out. A year and a half of grief, bottled up so that the fox could run, hide, and escape the lioness chasing her. She’d run into the thicket that was Novandria’s underworld and worked to outwit her pursuers for months now, always narrowly escaping where they couldn’t find her. But finally, when cornered, she’d stopped being Maelie or Fox for a moment, and she was somebody else… someone who could fight, who could be ruthless, who had had enough.
And now… she wasn’t sure what came next. She clutched the symbols of Sephira and Steyfano as if letting go of them meant losing a part of her soul.
False dawn started to brighten the eastern sky as she finally wiped away the tears. She shivers in the cold autumn breeze, the same one that had ushered her into Novandria almost exactly a year ago. Standing up and stepping to the edge, she looked down, absentmindedly resting her hand on the pouch with the feather fall scroll. Her fingers ran over the mementos a few more times before she looped them around her neck and tucked them into her blouse.
“I’ll… I’ll be alright, okay? You taught me so many things but… mostly, you taught me that I can decide my own path. You broke down the walls I lived in and you got me out. I… I love you both so much and I always will. Please, rest… I’ll see you again someday.”
I don't like walking around this old and empty house
So hold my hand, I'll walk with you my dear
The stairs creak as you sleep
It's keeping me awake
It's the house telling you to close your eyes
And some days I can't even dress myself
It's killing me to see you this way
'Cause though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore
Dearest Chloe, I am writing this because he cannot - or never will. It was a disastrous night and one that has come back to haunt us. You must remember that we did not intend or plan for it go such. It was all a terrible accident. Mika would never hurt anyone so on purpose - nevermind kill anyone. You must know that and not lose faith in him. It was a subterfuge gone wrong, a chance to steal some jewels from the Castillian palace with the help of some of the staff. You know Castille - all old money and no sense. A young man found him on the way out. He tried to stop Mika from leaving and was knocked from the window in the process. It was bad, Chloe, but we didn't realize how bad until days later. His name was Raphael de Aragon de Castille. The nephew of the king. The king was also not the problem. The boy's mother was. Chloe, I think she's following us. And I don't think she will give up. Please know we didn't intend this. There's no time. I hope you never read this, my love. Kallie
There's an old voice in my head
That's holding me back
Well, tell her that I miss our little talks
Soon it will be over and buried with our past
We used to play outside when we were young
And full of life and full of love
Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right
Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear
'Cause though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore
Deep in the night, Fox was sitting atop the aeroport towers by herself, looking at the objects in her hands. Her eyes drifted between the letters and the holy symbols of her aunt and uncle. Their words, their devotion, their love. All that she had left of them was two sheets of paper and these amulets. She didn’t want to think about why Leonessa had kept the holy symbols, what twisted concept of a trophy she had considered the badges of Sephira and Steyfano’s clerics. Instead, she just let herself hold them and be thankful that she at least had these as mementos.
Don't listen to a word I say
(Hey)
The screams all sound the same
(Hey)
And though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore
Seventeen out of thirty-one years they’d watched over her. Seen her grow from a scared little girl that couldn’t see colour to a carefree, risk-taking, young woman. They’d taken her out into the world and given her freedom and love. From Nicodemus’ doorstep they took her and brought her out under the stars and given her so much, including their very lives, to keep her safe.
She blinked back tears again. “Why?” She asks into the wind. “Why did you do all that for me? You didn’t know me. You just… showed up and picked me up… I don’t know… if I can believe that… I gave you near enough back…”
You're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
All that's left is a ghost of you
Now we're torn, torn, torn apart
There's nothing we can do
Just let me go, we'll meet again soon
She’d held it back after the duel when she found the amulets, but now that she was alone, it all came out. A year and a half of grief, bottled up so that the fox could run, hide, and escape the lioness chasing her. She’d run into the thicket that was Novandria’s underworld and worked to outwit her pursuers for months now, always narrowly escaping where they couldn’t find her. But finally, when cornered, she’d stopped being Maelie or Fox for a moment, and she was somebody else… someone who could fight, who could be ruthless, who had had enough.
And now… she wasn’t sure what came next. She clutched the symbols of Sephira and Steyfano as if letting go of them meant losing a part of her soul.
Now wait, wait, wait for me, please hang around
I'll see you when I fall asleep
Don't listen to a word I say
(Hey)
The screams all sound the same
(Hey)
Though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore
False dawn started to brighten the eastern sky as she finally wiped away the tears. She shivers in the cold autumn breeze, the same one that had ushered her into Novandria almost exactly a year ago. Standing up and stepping to the edge, she looked down, absentmindedly resting her hand on the pouch with the feather fall scroll. Her fingers ran over the mementos a few more times before she looped them around her neck and tucked them into her blouse.
“I’ll… I’ll be alright, okay? You taught me so many things but… mostly, you taught me that I can decide my own path. You broke down the walls I lived in and you got me out. I… I love you both so much and I always will. Please, rest… I’ll see you again someday.”
Don't listen to a word I say
(Hey)
The screams all sound the same
(Hey)
Though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore
Though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore
Though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore
Mother Knows Best
16th of September, 1883
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who's the baddest bitch of all? It's me
No need to think, no need to think
Seeing her there. Talking to Sareena. Maelie felt a cold fear grip her heart. Leonessa had taken Aunt Kallie and Uncle Mika from her. The life they’d built. And now, she was here to take Sareena. Victor. Mordecai and Clover. Who else must she know about? Nel? Peg and Bella? Igor and Arinelle? As she greeted her rival, he mind raced for something, anything, other than taking Sareena and Victor and leaving town.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who's the baddest bitch of all? It's me
No need to think, I know it's me
It wouldn’t have worked anyways. It was clear that Leonessa was set on revenge and the extent of her threats were beyond sane. The way she talked; it was like it was all decided. And that confidence that her cruel solution to Fox’s existence was righteous and reasonable. She’d backed Fox into a corner, trapped with the people she loved behind her and nowhere else to hide from this.
Aunt Kallie’s kindness didn’t help her here. Uncle Mika’s subtlety might help but, he avoided trouble, snatch and disappear. Fox was ill prepared to deal with a homicidal noble who knew how to play all the same games she did. The Fox was out of ideas, and Maelie Arsenault was backed into a corner.
But her mother. Her mother had taught her how to deal with people like this.
I never take shit from anybody
Don't know why you think it was wise to cross me
If ya got a death wish, then I'm listening
I'll end the life that you're living
Just call me your genie
She’d been taught everything about people like Leonessa. The shadow games between nobles at court. The banter in public hid deadly intentions. The knives slipped out behind curtains. Striking at each other’s resources, their contacts, their networks. The key to victory in these games was to be the one to escalate the conflict at a time of one’s own choosing. And no one had been better at that than her mother.
I don't take shit from anybody
Piss me off, and I'm leaving bodies
Better get down on your knees and count your prayers
'Cause nothing good comes after here
You're 'bout to meet your queen
She’d almost felt bad for the thieves who delivered the bomb. They had some talent. They were ambitious. But they’d decided that people’s lives were worth less than their delusions of grandeur. Power. Control. They want to play those games? Fox would make them regret setting this board for her.
Lemme tell ya that you're messing with the wrong bitch now
Can't let you forget it's me who wears the crown
And if you dare stand in my way
Then, baby, I'ma cut you down, down, down
She was tense moving through the hideout. She could have called Victor, but she didn’t want him involved in this anymore than he already was. Besides, she had to do this on her own. There was the slightest hesitation to arming the bomb in the safe. The same hesitation when she’d set fire to the Pinkerton offices. But that voice in her head was slowly sounding less like her mother and more like her own, and it told her that these people had asked for this.
You're messing with the wrong bitch now
I'm calling out for blood, it echoes in the crowd
And if you're gonna beg, then do it now
Or else I'm gonna stain my gown, gown, gown
Uh-oh, there you go again, keep making me mad
And it'll be off with your head, it'll be off with your head,
Uh-oh, here we go again; keep playing your games
And somebody'll wind up dead
They’d pushed. Leonessa. Pinkertons. Wildermeres. Vagabond. They’d made the biggest mistake of all.
Threatening the people that she couldn’t bear to lose.
'Cause I don't take shit from anybody
You ain't even seen me go full crazy
Boy, you really love to go and run your mouth
I hope you go down half as proud
I wanna hear you plead
I don't take shit from anybody
Did you really think I would let ya walk free?
Kinda sad that all good things come to end
So baby, kneel, off with your head
I wanna hear you scream
The explosion ripped through the air, far larger than she’d expected. There was no satisfied grin, no excitement in the work, the adrenaline in her veins was not thrilling. She just waited a few minutes, to check if anyone survived, rifle in hand if they did, then she nods to herself and departs for home.
Lemme tell ya that you're messing with the wrong bitch now
Can't let you forget it's me who wears the crown
And if you dare stand in my way
Then, baby, I'ma cut you down, down, down
You're messing with the wrong bitch now
I'm calling out for blood, it echoes in the crowd
And if you're gonna beg, then do it now
Or else I'm gonna stain my gown, gown, gown
She wanted Leonessa to know it was personal now. The letter was brief and aimed to make sure they all understood that she’d pull them apart, brick by brick, if they made her. And while she could have expended resources on divinations to track down Leonessa herself… she simply hoped her nemesis would agree to be done with this sooner rather than later.
She wanted Leonessa’s gang to know it was personal with them too. There’d be no mercy, and if they wanted to avoid her wrath they could run and hide. The one she left alive was only so she could deliver the letter. And perhaps… so she could also tell the story to anyone left that they’d picked the wrong fight. They should reevaluate the costs of taking down Fox.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who's the baddest bitch of all? It's me
It's me
She sat down in her living room. Rifle to the side, bag of goods she’d already forgotten about on the floor. Her mind trying to read the next moves like a chess game. After a while, Stella came to lay her head in Mae’s lap, her hand reaching to absentmindedly pet the blink dog.
“I didn’t want this, you know. I wanted to be the Fox my Aunt and Uncle raised. The one who was careful of who she stole from. Who smiled as she pulled off great heists.” She lets out a deep sigh. “But… I guess I’m my mother’s daughter after all.”
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who's the baddest bitch of all? It's me
It's me
From the Embers
21st of August, 1883 // 1867
It was early evening when Fox shuffled through the streets of the South Ward between the Warrens and the edge of the Central Ward. Dressed down in a dark coat, hat, and a light disguise of blond hair and orange eyes, she’d taken to these wanderings more often to get a better sense of the ward she might end up managing for the Syndicate. The opportunity interested her but… conversely it triggered all her worries about her upbringing under her mother.
“A rank and territory, a grand little kingdom they have around here.” She muttered to herself as she glances about the dirty streets. “They’re like discount nobles.”
Fox stood alone in the alleyway. The children gone towards better lives that she’d never understand. Tucking the pouch away she turns towards the dark end of the alley and disappears into the shadows of the city, the slight splinter of loneliness lasting only as long as it take her mind to start considering how she might rob the National Museum of Eisen.
‘I truly do not want anything to do with them. They sound like the worst kinds of nobles.’She winces thinking of how Ottilie Karstadt had reacted to her newfound relations, House Ellistraesh. She started wondering what the ‘best kinds of nobles’ were, and the quick survey seems to say nobles who did not wish to be nobles. Fox didn’t understand why the words stung the way they did. She’d made her choice, but… “I never wanted to stop being noble… I just also wanted to be me.”
I'd been blind been blinded by the light for so damn long, for so long
That it took losing everything to see I'd been wrong all along
I knew I had to change somehow but didn't know here to start
But a part of me died that day and said hello to the dark
And then it hit me
She bursts into the stables, knocking a stableboy off balance as she makes her way to the back. The guards come next, awkwardly trying to dodge around the unstable boy before finally shoving past him as they chase the young thief.
At the back of the stable, the girl quickly ascends a ladder, almost a bit too quickly as she stumbles on a rung, before reaching the top with the guards climbing after her. As she gets to the back, she leaps through the open door of the hay loft and teleports herself to the roof of the next building. She turns and dancs backwards, waving to the guards who attempt to follow, but immediately fall through the roof that was only barely strong enough for the eladrin. She runs to the edge and slides down a ladder before dashing through the alleys to safety.
A few minutes later, as she is walking down an alley inspecting the purse she snatched, her uncle joins her from a nearby shadow.
“You know… that was the sheriff around here, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“And… he saw who did it.”
“I can change my ‘air again!” She chirps defensively.
Shaking his head, he continues. “There’s no other elven kids around your age in this town.”
“Oh.” She stops, shoulders sinking. “Merde… I did it again…” She gives her uncle an apologetic look. “I am sorry, do we ‘ave to move again?”
“It’s okay little fox, we were… thinking of moving on anyways. Let’s go find your aunt.”
They make their way out of town carefully, but as they get further up the country road the girl begins peppering her uncle with questions about past heists, spells he used, non-magical deceptions he concocted, and what the riskiest parts were. But today, he seems less forthcoming with the details despite the empty road and the girl sulks the rest of the way, busying herself with balancing on the stone wall as she walks next to him.
Finally, they turn up a small path and once passed the tree line they reach the small cottage they only moved to a month ago. Mika and Kallie had tried to find out of the way places for their charge to live, not wanting to draw attention to their mismatched almost-family staying in the larger Inns they usually frequented. Instead, the last two years had been a quiet home life with the regular trips to villages, towns, and cities for their heists, cons, and other training exercises for the girl they’d nicknamed Fox.
As they arrive, Kallie Beauchamp is peering suspiciously at a pot of stew. “D’accord, I do not t’ink I burnt it dis time.”
“You don’t think?” Her husband asks as he enters the room with Fox in tow.
“I wish we could go back to de Inn we were at a few months ago. De bread der was parfait!” the girl says as she plops down at the table.
“You mean de one we left because you picked de lock on de safe in de jewelry shop down de street?” The air genasi says after tossing the end of a carrot at the half-orc.
“Oui…” She replies looking admonished.
Her aunt turns her attention to the sheepish girl and sighs, “What did you…. What ‘appened?” Her tone softening at the end.
“Nevermind that part, let’s eat and maybe… talk after dinner about that thing?”
I'd rather rule the dark than serve the light (it hit me, i-i-it hit me)
Tell me how this is wrong when it feels so right (it hit me, i-i-it hit me)
I lost the fight but won the war and in my heart a hole was torn forever (ever, ever, ever)
I thought that I'd lay down and die, but just then I began to fly from embers
From the embers, I fly
Gruff shouting from the alley she was passing pulls Fox from her thoughts. The shadows were long now as the sun was gone below the artificial horizon of the buildings so her eyes switched to darkvision as she watches a dirty hobgoblin with rotten teeth grill some young pickpockets.
“Whaddya mean this is all ya got?!” He croaks angrily as the kids step back.
“We did better than last time, didn we?” A young dwarf girl tries bravely.
“BAH, USELESS! All of you!” He scoops up the small pile of purses and money pouches. “No dinner for ya. Go out and learn to be proper thieves!”
“Proper thieves?” Fox asks softly from directly behind him causing him to startle, drop the pouches, and stagger away from her. “Proper thieves… don’t scream about stealing at the top of their lungs at children in an alley.”
“Who in Tanith’s Tainted Bosom are you!” He growls angrily, trying to recover his composure by reaching for a dagger in his tattered coat.
“A proper thief.” She replies coolly, holding his knife, and letting it fall between her gloved fingers to the ground. “You see… a proper thief steals things themselves. You’re just a bully.”
The children had scattered to the corners of the small space between the buildings by now, as far from the adults as they could get without later getting accused of running away.
The gruff hobgoblin reaches for a nearby piece of wood from a crate, “I’ll show you a bul…” His voice catches as he turns back to stare down the barrel of Fox’s revolver.
“Why don’t you stop here? You only brought a knife to a gun fight and it’s only downhill from here.” She says evenly as her thumb pulls the hammer back. Orange-brown eyes stare back as a sly grin creeps across her lips. “I’d encourage you to try if I thought this might actually be fun.”
The man drops the splintery piece of wood.
“Scram and don’t bother these kids, or any kids, again.” She says with a jerk of her head towards the street. And with no hesitation, he does just that.
She quickly holsters her pistol and looks around the alley at the kids hiding behind boxes, piles of trash, and each other.
“Calm down kiddos. Nobody is gonna hurt you now.” She says softly.
“But… now we won’t eat ever!” One of them says softly, looking at where the hobgoblin had run.
She glances about at them. Her eyes picking up their thin forms underneath the dirty clothes.
“Okay, c’mere.” She reaches into her coat. The children tense until she pulls out a coin purse and leaves it open on the box where they had unloaded their own takings from the day. A silvery glint catches the fading sunlight.
“Silver?” One says a bit excitedly.
“Non.” She replies casually. “Platinum.”
They all just stare at her.
“You… know what platinum is, non?” She asks after a moment.
“It’s… real?” The dwarven girl asks.
Fox raises an eyebrow and then sighs as she reaches for a coin. “One of these will buy you an apprenticeship in any guild in the city. Laborers, Masons, and Woodworkers tend to let you join younger though. You take one of these, you keep it hidden until you get where you want to go, and then you give it to the person at the desk. Some of them you have to pass a test, but if you do, you’ll have room, board, training, and work.” She puts the coin down next to the pouch and steps back again.
“What’s the catch?” A young goblin child squeaks.
“No catch.”
“Why are you doing this?” An orc boy that reminds her too much of Barnabus asks.
“Call it curiosity.” She says leaning back against the wall.
The dwarven girl, clearly the braver of the bunch, steps forward, eyes never leaving Fox as she reaches for the coin. Once it disappears into her hand she steps back. Then steps back again. Her eyes never leave the stranger until she gets to the mouth of the alley where she turns and bolts.
I lost the fight but won the war and in my heart a hole was torn, forever (forever)
I thought that I'd lay down and die, but just then I began to fly from embers
From the embers, I fly
Fly away, fly away
Fly away, fly away
The stew was not, in fact, burnt. It was merely under seasoned which was a more forgivable thing than over seasoning.
“Did you know de roof would give out under de guards?” Kallie giggles.
“It was a guess! But it worked!” The young elf grins back.
Her aunt smiles at her but then she catches the orc’s grey eyes. “Chloé. It ‘as been about two years since we ‘ave been toged’er, non?”
The girl quiets immediately. Uncertainty filling her expression. “Oui.”
“You are… doing much better now. Do you… enjoy life more now? De colours are back?” She asks gently.
“Mostly…”
“D’accord. Den… we wanted to…” She glances at Mika who places a hand over hers and continues for them.
“We wanted to ask what you wanted to do from now on.”
“What do you mean?” Her green eyes searching their faces for something.
“You do not need to stay wit us. If you like you can… go ‘ome.” Her aunt picks up as gently as possible.
The girl shrinks in her seat. “I… I… can do better…” She says in a desperate whisper.
“Oh non! Non ma petite renarde!” She gets up and moves to her side to hug her. The girl clings back tightly. “We were just wondering… you read de papers all de time. I know you miss your sister, non?”
She nods.
“And your father?” Her uncle suggests.
There’s a hesitation before she gives a genuine, if less enthusiastic, nod.
“Listen, we are not asking because we want you to go. We… we love you, we want you to stay, we want to watch over you but you should ‘ave de freedom to choose.” The genasi’s wispy tears fall from her eyes as she continues. “Der will always be a road you do not take, but I just want de one you do choose to be what you really want. Not what was decided for you. Not by your *maman*, not by us. You.”
“And this life… nobody really chooses it.” Her uncle adds gently. “I grew up on the streets of Capistrello. It took a long time for me to learn how to make this workout like this.”
“I simply ‘ad nowhere to go. As a genasi I am… not wanted in a lot of places.” Her aunt shrugs.
“I like dis d’ough! I can do dis! It is like… it is like… my ‘ands ‘ave always been reaching for t’ings and now I know what to do wit dem!” She says in an unnecessary plea. “I feel… alive, like life ‘as possibilities, der is just so much I can see! I spent… I …. I spent so long trying to follow all de rules and it… it… I nearly…” She sighs. “I want to choose de risks I take.”
“We know. You are… very, very good at this. And that’s what is a little scary.” Her uncle replies.
She tilts her head in confusion.
“This life… most come into it from below. The few that make it do so mostly by luck at first until they survive long enough to develop some real skills.” He explains. “And I’ve seen those who come to it from above and… they’re sloppy. Too much privilege that they can’t even recognize the risks. But you… you have talent, you love risk, you look for it, and I… just want to make sure you want this because I know you can go far enough that you’ll find the deepest parts of it and you’re the type to jump right in. And once you do, it’s sink or swim.”
“So… what road do you choose?” Her aunt asks, trying to hide the sliver of hope in her voice.
When you light a candle, watch the flames get brighter
But the shadows all around grow darker (oh oh), grow darker (oh oh)
All the faces, flashing, changing
The last two children were reaching for the coins together and after a fumble they both ran out of the alley as Fox watched from where she’d stood the whole time as all nine of them made their way out towards new lives. She pushed off the wall and used a mage-hand to return the pouch to her and inspect it.
“Not a one asked how to become a proper thief.” She sighs and inspects the pouch. “Didn’t even take a single extra coin. Hmm, good kids.”
Everything is now mine for the taking (oh oh), for breaking (oh oh)
And how I could I not see my reflection was slowly changing, was waking
I spent my whole life fighting all this darkness in my heart from overtaking
But then it hit me
The young girl looked between them and then drew up confidence she didn’t know she had. “I want… non… I am going to be de greatest t’ief in all of Europa, non, Terranon! And I will work ‘ard. I will learn, I promise I will listen!”
“D’accord.” Her aunt says, wiping a tear away.
“Alright, then… we’re off to Vodacce. We’ll teach you everything.”
Fox stood alone in the alleyway. The children gone towards better lives that she’d never understand. Tucking the pouch away she turns towards the dark end of the alley and disappears into the shadows of the city, the slight splinter of loneliness lasting only as long as it take her mind to start considering how she might rob the National Museum of Eisen.
I'd rather rule the dark than serve the light (it hit me, i-i-it hit me)
Tell me how this is wrong when it feels so right (it hit me, i-i-it hit me)
I lost the fight but won the war and in my heart a hole was torn forever
I thought that I'd lay down and die, but just then I began to fly from embers
From the embers, I fly
Fly away, fly away
Fly away fly away
Thrill of the Hunt
July 29th, 1883
Requests for hunting expeditions to the Osterlind Wilds had come in quickly from several nobles who were normally ill placed to find themselves invited to the dark forests. The look on Lord Declan Schaeffer’s face told Maelie that he was probably rethinking accepting anymore if clients continued to turn out to be like Baron Otto Fischer von Rosebrier and his party. The Rosebrier nobles had managed to make every mistake a hunter could make aside from shooting each other and that had only been narrowly avoided by a bit of sleight of hand by Maelie to put the Baron’s safety back on.
A shot rang out, followed by a cheer that quickly dwindled into complaints as one of the knights’ shots missed their mark again and the stag dashed away through the trees. Maelie glanced over from where she was keeping watch for anything approaching from the sides as Declan assured Sir Becker that he was unlikely to reload, reposition, and aim his sights in time for a second shot at a stag running at a full sprint to safety.
“This whole hunting business is a scam, you took my money and we still have no trophies.” Baron Fischer complained.
“You paid us for tracking, outfitting, escort, and licensing your lordship. The actual hunting is for the enjoyment of yourself and your party.” Declan managed to diplomatically reply.
“I don’t care about enjoying hunting, I want trophies for my parlors! Real trophies!”
“Real trophies are things you earn.” Maelie murmured under her breath just loud enough for a couple of Schaeffer’s rangers to hear.
Declan did his best to ignore the elf’s jab at their client, but it did help his mood. “Your lordship, perhaps we should change prey. There are some impressive looking animals that might be easier if you a…”
“I want things with antlers!” The gnome said with a stamp of his feet.
“Well, if all you want is antlers, we can offer dat service as well.” Mae said stepping forward.
Declan raised an eyebrow and the Baron’s party turned to regard her. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. If you ‘ave no interest in enjoying de hunt, den you can pay me to take de shots for you.” She says looking at the group of men.
“You? A woman firing a rifle?” One of the knights said in a mocking tone as the others chuckled. None of them noticed Declan take a step back from them.
“You think you can do better than the five of us?” The Baron puffed.
“Well, if you do not wish to pay for de service outright, why not make a game of it.” She grinned mischievously and continued despite Declan’s frown. “Each of you can take anod’er shot at a target of your choice. If you miss, I will take my shot after. If your party can bag five deer before I do, your entire expedition is free. If I bag all five deer, you get your antlers, but you pay an additional fee of fifty gold marks each.”
The men stared at her for a moment before one outright laughed at her.
“From de sounds of it, dis is a sure way to a free expedition, non? Or are you afraid of a woman wit a gun?” She teased back with a wicked grin.
“Take your shots.” The Baron puffed again.
****
As Declan moved ahead to scout a new game trail Maelie moved up to walk beside him. “Why did you do that? We don’t need more bad press than the scandal sheets.” He muttered.
“I am fixing de situation. If ‘ee keeps wasting ‘is shots and goes ‘ome wit’out anyt’ing, den ‘ee will complain. But ‘is pride demands ‘ee accept dis and now, I get to send ‘im ‘ome, make us more money, and ‘ee will never admit dat ‘ee did not do de shooting ‘imself anyways.” She whispers back.
“I’d say I hope you know what you’re doing, but I already know they’re going to regret this.” He smirks at her.
****
Mae stood impatiently to the side of Sir Heinz, her trigger finger itchy as she watched the deer through the trees. He’d spent probably ten minutes lining up his shot already and, despite that, his shot only clipped its fur. The deer’s ears flicked, and its hooves moved to beat the ground and leap away, but Maelie’s hands were faster. The stock hit her shoulder as she flicked off the safety, the shot already lining up as her finger moved to the trigger. Her green eyes watched not just down the sight, but to the right as she tracked the deer through the trees. When it broke through a bush and passed into the open line of fire she’d found. The rifle sang out and the beast took its last steps.
What had seemed like an eternity to her had been only seconds to the men watching her, Sir Heinz hadn’t even lowered his rifle before the deer was on the forest floor.
****
The next four went down about the same, although the Baron insisted on moving on to new targets three times before they found one standing in an open clearing. Mae had been worried he might manage a hit but suppressed a smirk when she saw the bead of sweat on his brow. The barrel wobbled; the shot hit the tree behind the deer. A second later, Maelie’s bullet pierced the animal’s heart, an easy clean kill.
“Your antlers await, gentlemen.” She grinned as she sauntered forward, but stopped when Declan drew his rifle.
“What is that?” One of the knights exclaimed, pointing behind where the deer lay at a feline body with a terrifying face and bat-like wings.
“It’s a manticore… run.” Declan said firmly. He turned and began ushering the other nobles away, waving for his rangers to guide them out. He glanced about for Maelie and then looked over his shoulder to find her aiming with feet firmly planted, rifle aimed directly at the approaching beast.
The manticore roared. Maelie grinned.
“I’m keeping this one.”
Learning to Fly
July 4th, 1883
Maelie looks from the letter and to the key in her hand with a quizzical expression. With a smile spreading across her lips, she headed out the door of the manor into the mid-morning light to find the gift Victor had left for her. Blinking away the rays of the sun glinting off the machine, her eyes grow wide as she takes in the eletech powered bike. Her feet whisk her down the stairs and she pauses only a moment before running her hand along the handle bars and the seat.
“I…I need to change… I need my riding clothes.” She turns around and teleports herself back through the door inside before dashing through the house to her room. She’s barely through the door when she starts tossing off her blouse and skirt in exchange for breeches, shirt, and a light riding jacket.
When she gets back out, Mordecai is still facepalming about what insanity has been brought to the manor now, muttering something about how Mae requires no encouragement. She returns to the bike and carefully starts to pick at the controls. She finds the key ignition. She checks the fire-elemental capacitor. Sitting astride it, she turns the key and feels the machine come to life.
“Oh lá lá! C'est incroyable!” She says as she reaches for the controls. “Oh, Victor... you get me.”
She carefully finds the brake first, then the throttle, and after a few jerks forward she’s moving it smoothly around the driveway. Other staff members come outside or to the windows to watch, even Crocket pokes their head out of the garden at the rumbling noise from the bike.
“D’accord! I am off!” She says after stopping to give the manual a cursory read.
“Mistress, are you sure that’s a good idea? Miss Fowler could mount up one of the horses to accompany you…” Mordecai attempts to suggest until Maelie is waving her hand dismissively.
“I will be careful! I will take de highway out of de city, it will not be busy dis time of day.” She says, probably with less reassurance than she planned.
And before anyone can stop her, she’s out the gate of the manor, the cries of surprised pedestrians and indignant rich folk rising in protest at their eccentric neighbor.
The wind whipped her face, but it just made her mad grin wider as she flew down the street towards the open highway. She skidded a bit on a turn, dodged a cart, and cut off a carriage before finally getting the hang of the brake and turn.
Run and tell all of the angels
This could take all night
Think I need a devil to help me get things right
Hook me up a new revolution
Cause this one is a lie
We sat around laughin' and watched the last one die
Once she reached the highway, where only a stray carriage or rider would be in her way, she finally let out the throttle and started playing with the gears and clutch.
Now, I'm lookin' to the sky to save me
Lookin' for a sign of life
Lookin' for somethin' to help me burn out bright
And I'm lookin' for a complication
Lookin' cause I'm tired of lyin'
Make my way back home when I learn to fly high
The rumble of the engine, the muffled roar of the elemental powering it, the world speeding by as she flies down the highway all made her feel recklessly free. There was no horse to worry about, she could go anywhere with this on her own.
I think I'm dyin' nursing patience
It can wait one night
I'd give it all away if you give me one last try
We'll live happily ever trapped if you just save my life
Run and tell the angels that everything's alright
Moreso, it felt risky and dangerous, riding a machine powered by pure elemental forces tucked underneath her. The controls were new and strange, but just close enough to bicycles for her to be able to figure them out. The newness of them, the uncertainty of it all made her heart pound.
Now I'm lookin' to the sky to save me
Lookin' for a sign of life
Lookin' for somethin' to help me burn out bright
I'm lookin' for a complication
Lookin' cause I'm tired of tryin'
Make my way back home when I learn to fly high
It was freedom. Freedom to take this chance. To not know what comes next. To move so fast that all she had to rely on were her own reflexes and the little skill she managed. Freedom from overthinking every decision, word, and secret in her life. Out here, on the road, none of it could catch up with her.
Make my way back home when I learn to
Fly along with me, I can't quite make it alone
Try to make this life my own
Fly along with me, I can't quite make it alone
Try to make this life my own
Victor knew her, but he probably didn’t fully realize what he’d given her. An escape from her own tangled thoughts, in a mind that raced to find problems to solve. Out here, she was free from it all.
I'm lookin' to the sky to save me
Lookin' for a sign of life
Lookin' for somethin' to help me burn out bright
And I'm lookin' for a complication
Lookin' cause I'm tired of tryin'
Make my way back home when I learn to fly
Annnd it's back...
July 1st, 1883
Fox returned from the heist before dawn, slipping in a seldom used backdoor that only she and Mordecai had the key to. A hidden stairway brings her right up to her safe room and she pulls off the cloak and mask upon entering. She arranges her gear on the table, removing the leather vest, elven cloak, and pouches of tools before turning to her bag of holding. Reaching in, she pulls out the satchel from Black 13, the object of the heist that she’d stolen a peek at before rejoining the others. Her further examination in the guestroom of the extra-dimensional mansion, which she is doing her best not to question, only confirmed her fears.
Leaving her gear on the table, she opens the door that is backed by the bookcase in her study and steps into the unhidden portion of her sanctum. Setting the satchel down on her desk she pours a glass of brandy and paces the room slowly.
Her forehead creases as she frowns and looks at the satchel between sips of liquor until she finally goes to sit at her desk and takes the item out of the bag. She places the adamantine, rune-inscribed box on her desk, sets the satchel aside, and leans back with her drink. She stares at the box. The same box that was pulled out of the brain-machine in October, the same stolen by the Sun Blades, the same one they recovered and gave to Celedor.
Maelie sips her drink and just looks at the box. “You stupid thing. I don’t know if I should be upset that you’re back in play or proud that I managed to steal you.”
After a few more minutes of staring, she gets up and retrieves a certain sending stone to arrange a meeting with a certain archmage.
The One She Left Behind
13th June, 1883
The HMS Ulysses cruises through the cloudy night sky far above Europa. In the passenger cabin, Maelie Arsenault shifts restlessly in her seat, head leaning against the window. After her argument with the crew about letting her off somewhere nearby she regretted leaving her scroll of feather fall at home. Looking around the cabin, most of the other passengers were asleep and the staff had settled into their posts for the night.
It had been several hours now since the message from Sareena about the fight with the detective and she eagerly awaited the dawn so she could use the Sending Stone again and hopefully book passage back home from Avalon sooner. With a sigh she gets up and pads towards the back. The deck was dark and cold, but she hoped that maybe the sky will be clear enough for her to stargaze, something that usually brought her some peace.
Being careful with the door, she slips out onto the deck quietly. The winds howled and even the elf’s hearing couldn’t distinguish the wind in the sky from the roar of the air elementals powering the nearby engines at the ship’s stern. The small aft deck was not a favourite of passengers, the noise of the engines preventing any of the enjoyable socializing the others seemed to want to do through the journey. Maelie had enjoyed a bit of time on the deck towards the bow, ecstatic that her motion sickness was far less an issue for air travel and had been sociable until the Sending Stone message.
Now, the loaner made her way to the safety railing, leaning against it. She looked around, hoping for some clear sky when she caught sight of some lights, not above, but below. Her heart jumped into her throat as a massive constellation of lights spread out under her as the clouds parted. In a heartbeat, she realized where she was flying over: Bellancourt.
Her eyes lit up, reflecting the light from below, as she gazed upon her home. The home she’d suffered in. The home she ran from. The home… where her sister still was. The home that, despite all that happened there, she had never stopped being homesick for.
I walked around my good intentions
And found that there were none
I blame my mother for the wasted years, we hardly talked
I never thought I would forget this pain
Then a phone call made me realize I'm wrong
And if I don't make it known that, I've loved you all along
Just like sunny days that we ignore
Because we're all dumb and jaded
And, and I hope to God I figure out what's wrong
She thought about her sister. The sister who had cared for her through all their mother’s abusive schemes. The sister who had held her hand as she bled on the cobblestones. The sister who had let go of that hand as Kallie and Mika had scooped her up and fled into the crowd with her. The sister who had picked up all her abandoned responsibilities. The sister who she had never so much as written a single letter to, so she’d know she was alive.
I walked around my room not thinking
Just sinking in this box
I blame myself for being too much, like somebody else
I never thought I would just bend this way
Then a phone call made me realize I'm wrong
And if I don't make it known that I've loved you all along
Just like sunny days that we ignore
Because we're all dumb and jaded
And, and I hope to God I figure out what's wrong
She swallowed the lump in her throat of all the guilt, all the unsaid things, and some part of her tried to push it all back down. She closed her eyes and shoved herself away from the railing hard, almost falling over. Wiping tears and trying to compose herself she turned to go back inside the cabin but…
And I hope to God I figure out what's wrong
And I hope to God I figure out what's wrong
…her feet turned around and she ran back to the railing.
She gripped it with the single strand of sense she held onto so that she wouldn’t go over as she started screaming. She told her sister that she loved her. She told her sister that she missed her. That she was sorry she’d left her and never come home. That she wanted to see her. To meet her family. She told her she was proud of all she’d done over the years. That no matter where she went in the world, she’d always listen for news from home. She had people she loved. People she wanted her to meet. That she still thought D’Artagnan was a horrible character.
If I don't make it known that, I've loved you all along
Just like sunny days that we ignore
Because we're all dumb and jaded
And I hope to God I figure out what's wrong
She screamed out nearly twenty years of memories she wished she could have shared with her sister until the lights of Bellancourt disappeared beneath the sea of clouds. Maelie stared back through the clouds until the winds blew away her words and tears. It took her a moment to differentiate the sobs from the shivers of the cold night and she prying her white-knuckled hands from the railing, she staggered back to the cabin to finally collapse into a dreamless sleep.
And if I don't make it known that, I've loved you all along
Just like sunny days that we ignore
Because we're all dumb and jaded
And, and I hope to God I figure out…
The HMR Ulysses sped onwards towards Avalon, never setting down in Montaigne much like Maelie.
Worthy
8th of June, 1883
I want you, thin fingers
I wanted you, thin fingernails
And when you bend backwards
I wanted you, I needed you
Oh-oh, to make me better
“I'm not worth a body guard!”
‘But you are worthy of being safe.’
“…just so much more than I feel worthy of?”
‘I’d give you the stars if I could.’
“I... I won't abuse it though.”
‘Please abuse it? Please ask me for anything. Everything.’
“I just don't want to be any trouble.”
‘I’m the one that’s trouble.’
I'll love you in springtime
I lost you when summer came
And when you pulled backwards
I wanted to, I needed to
Oh-oh, to make me better
Oh-oh, to make me better
Mae gently closed the door as Nel followed Cardinal down. Returning to her desk she picked up the gun and finished wiping down the frame and barrel. Slotting the cylinder back in and checking that she hadn’t oiled it too much. She occupied her hands for a while reassembling her revolver and finished by giving it a spin, pulling back the hammer, and listening to the fresh clack of the hammer after she pulled the trigger. The sound of the empty chamber filled the empty room.
But we're not so starry-eyed anymore
Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters
And won't it all just come around to make you
Let it all unbreak you to the day you met her
But it'd make you better
It'd make you better
“I’m trying. I’m trying to be a better person.” Her voice soft in her soundproof sanctum. “I thought… I could follow you towards that. Is that wrong of me? Selfish of me?”
She’d spent the last few weeks scrambling to find her footing. Aimless and unfocused, she’d nearly gotten herself and Victor killed. Resolving that had grounded her again, the forming of the Midnighters assured her that she’d have other voices around her other than her mother’s nagging advice at the back of her mind. She’d thought that she’d found a balance.
I sung you your twinges
I suffered you your tattletales
And when you broke sideways
I wanted you, I needed you
Oh-oh, to make me better
Oh-oh, to make me better
She set the revolver in its case near some of her other adventuring gear. Looking it over, she thought about the last few months of adventures, dinners, heists, and secrets. Why do they see themselves as unworthy of love? Why can’t I just… love them? And why does… wanting to be allowed to love them feel… selfish?
But we're not so starry-eyed anymore
Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters
And won't it all just come around and make you
Let it all unbreak you to the day that you met her
And it'd make you better
Did it make you better?
Make you better, oh
“…do you ever feel ashamed about anything?”
‘I don’t remember.’
She couldn’t remember what most things felt like before she lost the ability to see colour. Her mother had probably made her feel shame somewhere in there but… it was all lost behind a wall of bleak numbness. She could rationalize times with her sister as happy. Times studying as stressful. She still had reactions to them, but… it was all… so dull.
And all I wanted was a sliver to call mine
And all I wanted was a shimmer in your shine
To make me bright
‘I’m too prideful to feel ashamed. I guess that’s my problem.’
Her aunt Kallie and uncle Mika had spent nearly twenty years building up Fox’s confidence. Always encouraging her in the direction of things she was good at, always with new challenges. For the first time in her life she excelled at something that brought smiles to the people she loved… and who loved her back. But then she’d lost them.
Cause we're not so starry-eyed anymore
Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters
And won't it all just come around and make you
Let it all unbreak you to the day you met her
But it'd make you better
It'd make you better, oh
‘I just want to see you smile. Everyday. Just like the first time on the back of that train. Just like that. Forever. Cause you’re worthy of it. And maybe then, I will be too.’
Why am I like this?
25th of May, 1883
Fox sat against a wall and watched the harbor. The small ledge she’d dropped to was hidden and as she relaxed, she let herself take stock. Leonessa’s gang had made things a lot harder the last few nights. She had bruises and cuts from the recent engagements that she should get seen by Igor but… at least it was something she could feel.
I walked the halls where you knew my name
I lit a match, don't look back, and i walked away
I hit the gas and i ran away
Jesse james, up in flames, reputation changed
I broke the rules to every game i played
I turned up, I drew blood
And then i licked the blade
Rear-view, watch the city fade
Head down, roll high, no time to pray
Bella’s coming out ball had been a beautiful evening, but difficult with Victor there. Especially while trying to keep a smile on for the young debonaire who shined, surrounded by people who cared for her. She might not envy Bella’s situation with family and her own relationship difficulties, but she couldn’t help wondering what her life would be like if she could simply see the best in people and… let that be enough.
Now i'm running through
Another full moon
Grab the money and thе keys to the motel room
I'm a dead girl, walking through the truth
I wasn't living 'till i was an outlaw
Now, i dream big in a small town
And i fired all the shots in my last showdown
I'll be long gone
Before the dawn
I wasn't living 'till i was an outlaw
The pain in her heart had dulled since the ball. Her focus on the nightly engagements keeps her busy. Plotting out schemes for the heist she’d been roped into by her Syndicate colleagues. And her own constant reassessments of how to approach life in society and the underworld. It kept her mind occupied and she was spending more and more time in her office instead of the parlor or garden with Sareena. But her fiancé seemed to have acquiesced to give her space… ‘let it sort’ as she said.
The rogue now looked forward to the nightly engagements. The slash of a dagger, the aim of her gun, slipping into the shadows and hopping from roof to roof while her heart pounded in her ears. She could have been smarter. She could have set more traps. But now… she wondered if some part of her didn’t want this to end?
In the night light, my eyes shine like fool's gold
I got a past, dressed in black
Left a trail of smoke
Motel, i'm hidin' in room 82
You turn the TV on,
Man, have you heard the news?
She's on the loose, passing through
And she's draggin' a noose
It's nothing new
Just the girl that you thought you knew
Cold-blooded, red-handed, got nothing to lose
Outa time, walkin' the line of a burnin' fuse
She needed it. She needed these nights that presented a challenge and left her in control of herself with no care for the others around her. No moral quandaries about her profession or association. No friends telling her that ‘everything will be fine’ while having no real idea what ‘fine’ even looked like for her. No masked face with white lenses staring back at her and ‘hrm’ing’ an indignant response. No Victor surrounding himself in shadows and pulling back from her. No, not even any Sareena to hold her and let her rest her head.
Now i'm running through
Another full moon
Grab the money and the keys to the motel room
I'm a dead girl, walking through the truth
I wasn't living 'till i was an outlaw
Now, i dream big in a small town
And i fired all the shots in my last showdown
I'll be long gone
Before the dawn
I wasn't living 'till i was an outlaw
These nights were just Fox and the Game. The Challenge. La Leonessa and her cronies, here to kill her and anyone she cared for.
For this, she moved her hands.
She focused her senses.
She schemed with her mind.
Her heart could be happy or sad later.
Untrustworthy
21st of May, 1883
Maelie comes down the hall, pistol in hand as she carefully makes her way to where she hears some sound. Poking her head into the room she pales at the bodies on the ground. "Mirabella!!!!!!!!!" She screams as she rushes in.
"VV..... NEvermore! Are you okay?" She says, resisting the urge to pull the mask off to check. She's fumbling with some healing potions.
He hrms softly, continuing to work and gets the bandages sorted to stop the wounds, "Will live," he says quietly. "They didn't. Need a cleric." She listened but the monotone metallic voice felt more foreign than ever. Flat. Even. Emotionless. No trace of recognition, she might as well have been a stranger. And maybe... that's how he saw her after everything that had happened.
Maelie pushes a potion into Nevermore's hands. "Drink this, or so help me I will rip that mask off your face and shove it down your throat!" She whispers harshly. He assented and thanked her before stiffly getting up from the floor. He moved like his legs were made of wood and her mind was a whirl of thoughts on what to do. So, she just did nothing.
The next few minutes were intensely uncomfortable for her. Dead colleagues from the guild. The unconscious formerly possessed member of a friend’s family, and a number of people healing and shoving healing potions back and forth. All making her feel less than useless. Finally, she dragged herself to her feet and went to find Arinelle.
Coming to a stop while passing a room in a different wing of the mansion Maelie found Arinelle. "Anod'er group was severely injured and... Lord Esch and Miss Bluome lost der lives." She leans closer and whispers. "Nevermore is severely injured and is being stubborn, please." She couldn’t stifle the sense of urgency but also didn’t know if Arinelle knew… she probably did. She was worthy of trust. The speed with which they both moved through the mansion to catch up with those heading back to Lady Ormond only strengthened her suspicions.
‘I’m the only one who didn’t know I bet…’ She thinks as she watches Arinelle move to his side. Stepping back, she heads back out the door and into the street.
'Untrustworthy.'
Guilt
19th of May, 1883
Fox was out early in the evening. Scouting the south ward to see if she could catch Leonessa’s gang coming out of wherever they were hiding in the city. She heard plates smashing and shouting from a nearby tenement and went to look.
Through the windows of Nel’s apartment, she watched the enforcers smash Nel’s places. Awkward shouting about her sister, Nel throwing pouches of her hard-earned gold to them, then the more painful process of taking stock of what had just happened. Fox sat down on the edge of a nearby roof, watching Nel stand in her apartment by herself while the enforcers joked to each other on the way out.
“Pathetic… why are so many people in this Steyfano forsaken organization pathetic losers.” She muttered as her eyes followed them down the road. “This stupid organization thinks Steyfano is their patron? More like Tanith.”
She turned her attention back to the window where she watched Nel stand amidst the destruction of her home, not sure what to do next for a moment. She wanted to jump down, slip through the window, and help her friend… but then she watched her expression as she cleaned up, the emotions pouring out of her in what she thought was solitude.
“If I go down there, she’ll wipe her tears and act like everything is okay.” So, Fox sat there and let Nel have her space to pour out the emotions of everything being decidedly not-okay. After she’d cleaned a bit, Nel headed out to take the children for supper. Fox stayed seated, staring through the window.
‘I’m… a part of this.’ She thought as she watched Nel’s slumped shoulders turn the corner. ‘But… I’m not like them. Am I? Is this… this is why Victor looked at me like that. I’m dangerous. I’m a thief. I take things from people.’ And for once, Fox felt a twinge of guilt. Her uncle and aunt had always balanced between them their thefts and their charities, but the girl they had taken in had recklessly charged forward into that world, always too many steps ahead to really learn the lessons.
Over the last few months, something had been scratching at the back of her mind. A sense of selfishness that came when the adrenaline and satisfaction of a job well done waned, and wealth was what was left. It’s why she spent it so fast, and yet, there was always more. Fox stole so much and so often that Maelie and Sareena could afford almost any luxury money could buy. But… there was something missing…
Everyone talked about charity for the South. There was money poised to help people, but Fox knew it’d never be enough… because none of this was about money. It was about power and control. Her heists had specifically avoided those kinds of targets, being about finesse and challenge. Power… that was what her mother had dealt in.
She shook her head and looked at the darkening sky. ‘Shit, that’s gonna bug me all night now…’ She trotted off across the rooftops, doing her best to stay focused on her hunt… but now with one more distracting thought lodged in her mind.
Hunter or Prey?
16th of May, 1883
Who told you what was down here?
Come along if you wanted a peek
I've seen your face around here
Come alone, tell me under the table
What do you seek?
Black clad figures dash across the rooftops of the Central Ward, betrayed by the glint of steel from the lanterns below. One figure leads the others, weaving between chimneys, and up and over steep roofs as the others try to catch up to her. As Fox slides down toward the gap between buildings she casts a spell and then leaps the thirty-foot gap.
Welcome to the playground, follow me
Tell me your nightmares and fantasies
Sink into the wasteland underneath
Stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
Oh-oh, woah-yeah
Welcome to the playground
She stops and turns to watch the others come over and barely skid to a halt at the edge. Giving them a quick wave, she then dodges at the sound of the hand crossbow’s twang in the crisp spring night.
‘Always with the crossbows…’ She rolls her eyes as she heads off between some chimneys. Knowing her pursuers would have to detour to another rooftop to follow.
What brings you to the lost and found, dear?
Won't you pull up a seat?
Everybody got a price 'round here to play
Make me an offer, what will it be?
Oh, what will it be?
Leonessa’s lackeys had been chasing her for a while now and Fox decided to change the game. She cast a quick illusion of herself and sent it to another roof over before leaning back against a chimney and waiting.
Two of the rogues came from the right, the others probably going further afield. Fox waited for them to pursue the illusion before aiming her revolver with both hands.
Welcome to the playground, follow me
Tell me your nightmares and fantasies
Sink into the wasteland underneath
Stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
Pulling the trigger, she sent a bullet into the upper shoulder of her target, drawing a surprised shriek from her. Her partner turned on her heel, her eyes quickly finding Fox in the dark and firing a bolt.
The thief shifted and the bolt slashed across her arm but avoided a true strike. Using the last bit of her jump spell, she leapt back up the steep roof, back the way she came. Once at the roof’s peak she slid down and teleported across the gap.
Oh-oh, woah-yeah
Welcome to the playground
Oh-oh, woah-yeah
Welcome to the playground
Welcome to the playground
Welcome to the playground
Another bolt struck Fox in the shoulder, almost the same place she’d scored her own hit. One of the other rogues hadn’t gone so far around that she couldn’t return to help. She huffed as she kept running, looking for another way out.
The Fox kept this up for another hour. Running, doubling back, setting traps, and using all the illusions, weapons, and tricks she could to whittle her enemies down before it became obvious they were prepared for this kind of hunt. They were pacing themselves.
Welcome to the playground, follow me
Tell me your nightmares and fantasies (tell me your nightmares)
Sink into the wasteland underneath
Stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
The hunted begrudgingly went to ground, her last illusion throwing off pursuit just long enough for her to slip into a hidden sewer drain. Fox stumbled through the sludge filled tunnels until she poked her head out a drainpipe near the river. Sitting down, she took stock of her injuries and let her legs rest for a moment before taking the next steps to get home unseen.
Heartbreak
14th of May, 1883
Sareena was trying. She was trying so hard to make their world make sense, to make it happy, to mend things. But the truth was that Maelie’s heart wasn’t finished breaking and she knew that this was hurting the woman she loved too. Watching Sareena react to all this was just doubling the hurt and she had no way to make any of it stop.
Her mind had entered the phase where it was badgering her for missing the clues. For not stealing Victor’s secrets at the start… before her heart had taken that leap. When there had still been time to back off, keep emotions in check, and know that whatever drives him… it would never make room for her.
That he would never love her.
But… is that true? This is why her heart wouldn’t just break. There was too much she didn’t understand. Too many opportunities for him to have been rid of her. To have taken advantage of her. To have done something more than simply… make her feel happy and loved.
So why? Why all the lies? Why share these secrets with others and not her?
“Because something in me told me not to trust you.”
Is it just that simple? His perceptions were enough to see that part of her? The part that lies, cheats, and steals her way through life? Because she was Fox. Was that really all it took?
Would he come to stop her? Would she have to fight him again? She had been sure she’d put a bullet in him, but he had stood there staring her down afterwards as if she hadn’t even grazed him.
One small part of her heart beat for a moment, ‘What have you been through Victor for you to have that look on your face?’
And with that, her heartbreak started all over again…
Trouble
11th of May, 1883
You know there's a certain word for people like me
It don't make it right or wrong but, yeah, they like to dig in deep
If you get too close I'll get you, if you let me in, I'll stay
But the hardest part is finding out I'm the first to walk away
With your heart, with your heart
Was it just a roll of the dice that she’d met Victor that night at the casino? His welcoming demeanor, the charm and ease with which they talked. It was so easy to take his arm and while she knew there was a mask there, she could see that somewhere beneath it there was a sadness whose depths seemed to draw her in.
She’d wrestled with whether he could ever love her. Truly see her. And love her.
After finally committing herself to it though, she’d now found out that the answer was no.
Baby, I'm trouble, the kind that makes you wait
And baby, I'm trouble, you know I'll be your favorite mistake
And I will swallow you whole, and spit you out because I love the taste of trouble
Yeah, yeah-ah-ah-ah
She’d kept her secrets and gone deeper and deeper, knowing full well that the longer this went on, the more hurt it would cause. So, of course when everything came crashing through the doors they’d locked their secrets behind, Victor found himself too hurt to go on. To ever trust her. To love her, if the doubts in his mind had ever let him in the first place.
I can't say I'm sorry for the things that I have done
I get burned when I fly too high, but I'll keep heading for the sun
There's a certain kind of thrill, that comes from telling lies
So I cross my finger behind my back and I'll dress it up real nice
For your heart, for your heart
She’d told the worst lies. The little ones that you can build a mountain out of. The dressings that nobody notices. The ones that are just so real that it can’t help but rip your reality apart when the truth comes out.
Baby, I'm trouble, the kind that makes you wait
And baby, I’m trouble, you know I'll be your favorite mistake
And I will swallow you whole, and spit you out because I love the taste of trouble
Yeah, yeah-ah-ah-ah
Sareena had asked her to be gentle and she’d ruined that promise too. She just couldn’t help but be reckless, taking things into her own hands, and pushing through on her own.
Doing bad, feels so good
Told you from the start, your gonna get hooked
Doing bad, feels so good
Told you from the start, your gonna get hooked
Doing bad, feels so good
Told you from the start, your gonna get hooked
Doing bad, feels so good
Told you from the start, your gonna get hooked
Monumental disaster that it was her mind wanted to sort out the consequences. There were a lot and there were so many many questions that needed answering.
Baby, I'm trouble, the kind that makes you wait
And baby, I'm trouble, you know I'll be your favorite mistake
And I will swallow you whole, and spit you out because I love the taste of trouble
Yeah, yeah-ah-ah-ah
But right now. Her aunt’s voice of calm, her uncle’s lessons of guile, and even her mother’s lessons of schemes were all drowned out by the sound of her heart breaking.
No matter what anyone taught her or how hard she tried, she always wanted too much.
Can you steal a heart?
May 8th, 1883
When Victor had left, Maelie had stood in the gaming room long enough that Mordecai had wondered if she was in shock. Too many emotions raced through her mind but none of them had a chance to show; sadness, anger, regret, distrust, and denial. All warred for courses of action of how Maelie Arsenault can salvage this disaster. Finally, Clover ushered her to bed, and she slept.
"I am... not used to dis." Maelie said softly to Nel the next day at the café.
The large ursan gently asked her. "The being in love part or the dealing with secrets part?"
"Definitely de being in love. But also, usually I am de one wit all de secrets." She laughs half-heartedly.
She nods and takes her arm back, not wanting to make Maelie uncomfortable, or embarrass her at the cafe. "Do you think the secret is something you can live with?"
"I 'ave no idea... I wish I just... knew." A look of determination crosses her face briefly.
‘That’s it.’ She thought to herself, ‘I just… need to find out what this is about. If Victor won’t tell Maelie. Then Fox will take care of this.’
She takes a breath and stands up. "Merci Nel, I... I need to go. I 'ope to see you soon."
"Thank you, Maelie. You too. Good look with whatever you're doing to go do."
"Merci!" She says with a grin before running off.
She sat down at the large oak desk of her study, leaning back in her chair and putting her boots up as she let her mind run through what she knew. Her mind always worked better in here, she’d felt it the first time she walked in when viewing the manor. She was still getting over the anxiety of how much it reminded her of her mother’s office in small ways, but… maybe that’s what she needed. A place for these kinds of thoughts. Dishonest, scheming, conspiratorial thoughts that had no place in her relationships.
Victor had a troubled childhood. He hid behind this façade of a rake so that people would leave him alone. He always acted as if whatever secret he held would be crushing to tell anyone. His heart. He had such a weak heartbeat and he rarely slept well, despite doing his best to not bother her.
His father. His heart.
Maybe.
Why else would a father mistreat and nearly despise his own son? Blame him for his wife’s death rather than cherish the child she left him?
Because the child was unwell.
Her mind raced. Putting pieces where they fit. What if Victor didn’t want to tell anyone… his own father had all but disowned him over… whatever it was. If that’s what it was.
“Okay… that’s a direction I can try…”
She got up from her desk, sorting some notes back into her safe before disappearing into her room to retrieve her gear.
“I’m sorry Victor, but if we’re going to play games with secrets then I’m gonna play for keeps.”
Home
April 25, 1883
She had always known that home is where your family lives. The building didn't matter. It could be an Inn room you were renting. A cottage for the summer. A castle or a shack. If you had family there, it was a home.
That's why when she was young, the only place that really felt like home was her sister's room. She would sneak out doors, down the long hallways, and even through windows late in the night to get to there. They would play all night when no one was around to tell them what to do or how to behave. They would put on plays for themselves, act out stories, and be the children that they were naturally inclined to be. Children that were not allowed when the sun was up.
Tonight, Maelie remembered those small sparks of joy from her childhood as she left her room, well after Cardinal, Mordecai, Clover, and everyone else had either gone to bed or gone home. Her hands ran along the wood railing over the entryway before she took a few silent strides and leapt up to slide down it in her slippers. Her hair trailed behind her and her robe and nightgown's quiet flapping was the only sound she made as she got to the bottom. Grinning she moved through the rest of the mansion.
She went through every room, curiously opening and closing cabinets where her staff had arranged things for her. She looked out every window at the views that would become common place. She lounged on a sofa in the parlor. She danced in the ballroom in her slippers. All this done with a perfect silence, the only trace left were the tiny misplacements of items she was leaving just to keep her staff on their toes.
The elf deposited herself lazily on the entryway steps, leaning back on her elbows, and letting the nighttime sounds that only accentuated the silence reach her ears.
She'd spent the better part of two decades running.
Now, she finally had somewhere to run to.
Home. Where Sareena is.
Ready to Run
April 17th, 1883
‘And how much did you just spill to me Fix? Do you even know?’ Fox thought to herself as she aimlessly wandered across a rooftop. ‘I know there’s… something, involving other people, that has something to do with me and very likely the Syndicate.’
She continued the train of thought. ‘Between that… and who I know keeps sticking their nose into the underworld… there’s definitely something to worry about.’ She groaned to herself as she worked her way through the dark streets.
Friends. What a stupid mistake to make.
Kallie and Mika had always had each other, but Fox had never been able to have real friends. The closest were the occasional fling when they stayed in town long enough for her to decide someone was safe enough to spend casual time with. A little bit of pleasure and closeness to scratch the itch. How many other people's lives had she passed through and disappeared from though?
Friends. Liabilities. Something you can't control.
‘I haven't even told Victor... and I have... No idea how he'll react.’ She thought in frustration. ‘And Sareena. I've promised so much.’
Spy on Fix. Figure out what's going on.
Get something to blackmail them with. Something to expose if they betray you.
Words, trust, loyalty, all transient things that disappear when it’s inconvenient for them.
Fear, leverage, consequences, that’s how you stay safely in control.
You're supposed to be clever, right? Use this, make a plan, take control.
‘Mother's way.’ she said, recognizing the thoughts for what they were. ‘But... Maybe she's right? I need... I can't bear leaving Sareena if...’
‘How can I tell her? What happens then? What... would she even think of me if I… became like that?’ The weight bore down on her shoulders until she let it out in heavy sigh.
Then you run.
‘I guess… I figure this out… or I leave.’
New Beginnings
April 7th, 1883
Maelie laughs brightly as they dance. Her feet taking her in circles around Cardinal, always close but never in the way. It's not until the initiates start handing out papers for the sky lanterns that she finally staggers to a halt.
Cardinal finishes the song, sputtering a bit to apologize to the other bards who wave off her concerns. She looks at the slip of paper. “What’s this for?”
"Oh, we write down a goal, wish, or just... somet'ing new we want to start." Maelie says, catching her breath. "Den, we put dem in de sky lanterns and send dem to Sephira for 'er blessing."
The bard nods. She considers a moment and writes something on the slip before folding it once.
Maelie blushes and pulls one already written out of her dress. "I wrote mine earlier. Come on!" She takes Cardinal's hand and leads her to where people are gathering at some tables. There are small paper lanterns with candles in them.
Goddess of music, journeys, and the night sky,
You blessed me with a new beginning when I was a child.
A new family, a journey across Europa, and
a freedom I thought was only a fairy tale.
" 'ere, you just put it in 'ere." She picks a lantern and puts her piece of paper in it, then carefully lights the candle. "Den... I t'ink we let dem go over 'ere."
You gave me people to hold my hand
and lead me when I was too afraid to take
those first steps on my own.
She goes to where an Initiate is instructing people where to launch the lanterns. Holding her own carefully, she lets the heat from the candle fill the sky lantern and gently lets it alight from her hands up into the air over the temple gardens.
And you did it all again when that
first journey came to an end.
You led me through the dark, grey world
and into a place filled with colour, music, and love.
Cardinal tucks her paper into a lantern and carries it over to the open space. She holds it gently between her palms, watching it as it warms, a fragile glowing thing. After a few moments she releases it upward, watching it rise into the sky with an expression of awe. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers.
I could ask Fodla for the comfort of home,
or Peitho for lasting love,
but all I really want is that you lead me back here
wherever I go on from now on.
Maelie takes her hand and leans over to gently kiss her cheek and whisper. "Oui, dey are... not as beautiful as you are though."
I’ll take care of the rest.
Safer in Shadows
April 3, 1883
Maelie leans against the railing of the Water Walk looking across the river towards the parade on the bridge and the bright lights of the manor parties on the Island. Despite having the wealth and connections needed to attend, there was something bittersweet about it all to her that she couldn't put her finger on. Standing in her leather breeches, boots, a vest, and dark red coat, she had decided it was safer to be as far from that as she could.
She'd been doing fine until the crowds got busier, the nobles in their floats and carriages, and, out of the corner of your eye, an army of Rooks looking for anyone causing trouble. Eventually, she was constantly looking over her shoulder, watching people reaching into coats or bags, and she’d jumped when a child had pointed a toy crossbow at her.
Giving up, she returned to the Inn to change back to her drab clothes for the evening and slip back out into the night. Avoiding the brightly coloured crowds, she stuck to the shadows, her eyes adjusting to darkvision as she got further from the light and found her way to the black waters, observing the brightly coloured celebrations with both a sense of longing and dread.
'Celebrating the formation of their country…Oh…' She thinks in a moment of realization. 'It reminds me of Hero's Night.'
Stepping away from the railing she takes one last look at the bright Island of nobles and turns South for the evening.
'I'll take my chances by the docks.'
Too much like You
March 13, 1883
After getting the halfling girl cleaned up, Mae watched Bella tiredly climb over the walls and back into her cage. She stood in the shadows across the street for a while before turning and heading down the street and back towards the bridge. On the way back, she stopped on Ten Tower bridge and looked out over the rolling dark river below.
’Bella is trapped. I’m sure her mother is letting the marriage go forward so that she can benefit.’ She thought to herself.
‘Family Rosebriar lost the Ducal seat years ago when Reinhardt grew in power because of eletech. That’s what Sareena said.’
‘So, there’s turmoil in the great house, but it seems family Rosebriar is still looking for allies to retake the seat. An ally…or… tool from another noble house would be useful since they aren’t linked to the factions in the house. That explains why the Countess would allow the marriage to Dyrr.’
‘To make that work, she needs to make sure the marriage isn’t freedom for Bella… but that Bella is a baited hook for Schatzi Dyrr.’
‘That is a very good plan. I wonder if this Blackstone key she has Dyrr looking for is part of that or just a test…’
She walked the rest of the way across and turned down the Water Walk. Again, after another mile or so, she stopped her tired legs to lean on the railing.
‘There’s a lot at stake. But a clean break would crush the countess’ plans. In fact, the more she invests in this, the worse it would be in the end for them. It could ruin the Rosebriar family’s power irreversibly if the Reinhardt’s capitalized on it to crush the resistance to their hegemony. They’d also be happy to let a Rosebriar and someone from Tressard do all the work of ruining them…’
Maelie grinned and looked out across the water, nodding to herself for putting it together. But then something caught her eye from the water. The barest hint of her reflection. She choked a bit, gripping the railings as a panic seized her…
‘That’s her smile.’ She’d gotten over family resemblance a long time ago. But… she’d never associated her expressions with her mother before.
‘This is all how she’d think. What she’d have done.’ Shaking her head, she backed away from the water, the colour draining from her face and a tightness gripping her chest.
“No no no, I’m not like her.” She said aloud in elven. “I’m not…”
When did it start happening that she started thinking like her mother?
Maelie leaned against a lamppost, afraid of her own reflection now. The dark waters had robbed all the colour differences she used to change her appearance and had made her see just how alike she is to her family.
‘This isn’t fair. Why are you still here with me?’
The panic continued to rise until Maelie did what she’d been doing for almost two decades. She ran.
The Game Begins
February 13th, 1883
Fox was spending more time in her den lately. She needed somewhere to think clearly and tactfully about how to manage her criminal affairs without getting distracted with adventures, courting, and whatever tiny disaster was occurring. She had setup a dartboard and was playing against herself as she thought through each step.
“So, the Leonessa has come to Novandria. She knows I’m here. And her gang has a… gift for me? Not a message.” She throws a dart, landing a single 12.
She frowns. “Something… to taunt me with.” She pushed away thoughts of what it could be and only got a single 5.
“So, she’s cruel. Probably a bit arrogant.” She concludes with a wry grin. “But, she’s paid into the Syndicate to bring her gang in? I’ll check how… permanent that is with Rags. I don’t think I warrant that much attention and while I would be flattered it seems an unprofitable venture if that’s the reason. Which would circle back to her being exceptionally cruel, but also stupid.” She hits a double 7 and retrieves her darts with her mage-hand.
“Okay. Next. No evidence she knows who I really am, so I can let that rest.” She hits a triple 14 and grins.
“But… I need to know how much Fox is worth to the Syndicate which… will take a few more weeks I guess.” She gets a single 3 and frowns.
“Until then, I don’t know if I’m stepping in shit.” She hits a 14, almost a triple, not quite. She starts again.
“The Syndicate hasn’t minded me freelancing. Rags certainly did not tell me to stay away from the competition.” She lands a double 8.
“So, it’s a competition for now. And their favourite target is rubies.” She hits a triple 7 and grins mischievously.
“Shame if there aren’t any rubies left in Novandria for them to steal.” She hits the single 25.
She crosses her arms and leans back against the wall, staring at the dart board. “I think that’ll make a good game for now. I'll deal with evening the score later.”
Aimless?
March 5, 1883 - Novandria
Maelie returned late to the Skybound. She’d removed the cowl and mask, but was still dressed in dark greys with her drab coloured coat and boots. Stopping in front of the door a moment, her eyes wandered over to the stables. A few minutes later she was saddling up a confused Mischief and letting the evening stableperson know that she’d be out late.
‘Impatient.’ Victor teased.
‘Not wrong.’ She thought.
Departing the Inn she took the western road out of the city and once it was properly deserted she urged her steed into a gallop. Passed the last buildings and out into the surrounding farmland, Mischief took his rider beyond the lights of the city until only the moon and stars shed their light on the road and fields.
‘Damn, Mae. ‘I don’t care about money’ is the most rich-girl thing you ever said.’ Fix chirped.
‘I am pretty spoiled.’ She quietly admitted to herself.
She urged Mischief forward, faster into the night until he resisted and seemed to be demanding to know where they were going. Sighing, she let him slow to a trot and used her mage hand to feed him an apple.
“I don’t really know.” She muttered to him in elven.
‘Are you in a hurry?’ Rags asked.
‘Am I?’ She thought.
The horse was more interested in the apple for the moment and started forward again once done. Probably hoping for another once they went further.
‘You want everything, lass?’ Rags asked.
‘Just what I’ve lost.’
She let Mischief steer them for a while. Looking out over the fields, she shook her head in frustration as her darkvision kept kicking in. Finally she looked up at the night sky. Taking a breath, her vision cleared from the greyscale to welcome the brilliantly coloured starry sky of the goddess in all its glory.
« Un jour, je vais me ressaisir et les gens verront quel genre de problème je peux vraiment être. » She says to the sky before turning Mischief back towards Novandria.
[E: “Someday, I’m going to get my shit together and then people will see what kind of problem I can really be.”]
This City is Mine.
February 6th, 1883
Fox closed the secret entrance to her den behind her before stepping back and collapsing in a chair. Too much adrenaline for way too long. The tension of waiting out on rooftops, alleyways, and sewers before making her way here had been particularly exhausting after her encounter at the jewellery shop.
Professionals, but assholes. What kind of luck had brought that gang here all the way from Castille?
Raggash had said that someone was paying dues higher-up the chain to operate, but those dues must be expensive for another gang as big as that one.
"We've a gift for you, La Zorra."
Are they here for me? Fox thought about this. And after a little while, she paused and realized... she was crying.
It wasn't fear. She was used to that. She was used to feeling afraid, it reminded her to be cautious.
It wasn't disappointment. She wasn't upset that they were in her territory, hitting exactly the kind of targets she was set on making her own.
It was close to sadness. It felt like she should be sad, but she wasn't.
She was angry. Some silent anger had been seething inside her for months and now she had so little idea what to do with it that it came out in tears.
The Leonessa had killed her aunt and uncle for their heists in Castille, seemingly claiming the entire country as her own, so what business did she have coming to Eisen. She'd taken her family from her, the family that had taken in a girl who'd lost the very idea that life was worth living. The family that had taught her everything she valued and had long trusted her with their secrets, wealth, and tricks. The Leonessa had killed them and now she was here to finish the job.
Good. She thought.
As she had noted, professional thieves tend to avoid making bodies. But for the Leonessa? Fox would make an exception.
Not like you.
Maelie leaned against a tree, she had just changed out of her Fox gear, stashed it all into the luggage and put on some unremarkable travelling clothes. She re-inventoried her bags and was almost ready to head out, but as she took a few breaths, her racing heart finally calming from the adrenaline rush of the heist, her mind wandered just enough to take it all in.
“I did it.”
She said the words in soft elven at first, but then she smiled brightly and jumped into the air raising a fist.
“I DID IT!!! DID YOU SEE THAT!!!”
She gave a shout of joy and then started laughing almost maniacally. She held her sides, laughing until she cried. After a few minutes she wiped her face with her sleeve.
“Did you see that? Uncle Mika? The first one, maybe I was lucky, but that one… that one, I really did that.” She leaned back against the tree again.
“Did you see that Aunt Kallie?” She asked softly again, looking up at the cloudy winter sky. “I’m doing okay on my own. I’ll be fine.”
She stared down at the luggage with the two paintings she’d just stolen by outwitting a small squad of Rooks and hired adventurers. Magic, skill, guile, and charm. All things she’d learned from her adopted family. All things that she felt she’d been born to do.
“Did you see that mother?” She says quietly and harshly, the way someone utters a threat. “I’m nothing like you and I never will be.”
With one last wicked grin she grabbed her things and headed back towards Novandria.
Too close to home
Fox had retreated to her den with a collection of newspapers after she saw the article about the jewellery thefts. She had been the only one hitting jewellery stores over the passed few months, who could have stepped into her territory like this? Maybe the Syndicate were unhappy to let her freelance? She looked up other articles about recent thefts, but it was when she returned to the newest one and read it again that she caught the reference.
"Rubies..." she muttered aloud to no one.
Hadn't there been someone stealing rubies in Castille during the time she, Kallie, and Mika were there? Her uncle had been following it, keeping an ear to the ground out of interest for that kind of flair.
"I doubt dey 'ave stolen all de rubies in Castille." She pondered the question of why they were in Novandria.
Something felt off to her, like she was walking down an empty street that she knew wasn't empty.
"Well, sometimes de best t'ing to do den is to just say 'allo'." She grabbed her dark hooded leather jacket and pulled it on as she slipped out into the tunnels.
Mistakes were made
She frowned as she read the paper. Gunpowder had been a horrible idea and she'd known it from the start. Then again, that job had been a horrible idea from the same.
Harkim had cared far too little about the fallout of destroying a shipment of goods in the North Ward. An armed wagon before nightfall. What a stupid job. Fox had nearly gotten up and walked out several times as the 'coarse' job was explained. Two people there hadn't bothered to conceal their identities at all, including Servis who had joined several adventuring teams. Nel, the Rus bear, she was surprised to see her but not really. She seemed way too soft for this kind of work, so she assumed she was in over her head for something.
But no, Fox had to see the mess as a challenge. Could she plan it so that the guards left the wagon. Get the others to distract them, get them helping with the other wagon. Instead they had mostly stood around staring at the illusion of a broken wheel that could fail at any moment. She'd had to cut the harnesses herself, scare the horses, watch the driver get dragged away, then use the illusion of a lion to distract the last guard. She was just supposed to light the fuse, that was it. Well, she'd done that too.
"Do I feel guilty?" She thought. "Maybe. Guards sign up for dangerous jobs, one seemed perfectly ready to fight a lion. Can't imagine they weren't used to armed robberies."
She thought through the plan several more times.
"Sloppy. All of it." She concluded. "Like a common criminal."
New Toys
Fox tugged the gloves on. They fit snugly to the hand, the soft black leather barely noticeable. Inspecting them she smirks at the slashes at the end that allow her fingertips to have a better feel for lock picks and other precise instruments. With a snap of her fingers the gloves disappear on her hand, invisible to avoid suspicion in places where gloves are uncommon.
Looking to the table in front of her, she picked up a couple of her lock picks and the large complex lock she had bought to practice with. Fitting the pick and tension wrench inside she could already feel the magic amplifying the small motions and frictions from the mechanism into her hands. It took her half the time she usually does, and the lock popped open.
She smiles and re-locks the device. “And now…” She mutters as she summons her invisible mage hand to take the lock picks. They float and place themselves within the lock and it was as if she could still feel the picks in her hand. The tension of the wrench, the pick lightly raking over the tumbler and selecting the pins. The lock popped open again just as easily as before.
Snapping her fingers to bring the gloves back into view, she inspected them again for their flexibility and smiled to herself. “I am going to 'ave fun with these.”
Plans
“Stay?”
"Stay for a bit?"
"Are...are you leaving?"
It was the real question she was asking all along. She had panicked Cardinal with talk of houses by accident, but it had drawn out her real fears. Would she leave? On a whim? When something better presents itself? Fox had disposed of dozens of names, disappeared, and moved on… so she had a very hard time convincing herself that Maelie Arsenault would stay.
Did she love them? Yes. Absolutely yes. All three for each their own beauty and sorrow that she saw in their eyes. But old habits die hard and the packed bag under her bed, the boots next to the chest, the dagger behind the headboard, and the many times her lovers’ soft movements stirred her alertness made every reassurance feel empty.
Wake up, any threats?
Clothes, boots, weapons, cloak.
Backpack has rations, water, clothes, spare lockpicks, and an updated train schedule.
Exit; window or door.
Throw off pursuit in Central Ward.
Make it to station leaving only a long enough window to purchase ticket and board train.
On her own she had practiced the routes and it would take no more than forty minutes to be leaving Novandria. And every time she reflexively ran through the plan each step was now painful.
Before now, she had never noticed. Her Aunt and Uncle had always accompanied her, the plan had worked in Montaigne when they left the Painted Highlands. Then again in Vodacce. Things go wrong, better to lose a heist; equipment, money, or treasure, none of it was as important as your life or freedom. That’s why when the con on the Duke of Rosende had gone bad she had followed the plan. Escape the ball, hit the hidden packs in the woods, change clothes and head for the docks. Short journey across the channel to Avalon. It had worked for her.
But now… now she noticed. It worked for her because it was for her. Kallie and Mika had gotten killed, they had diverted attention, given her time, struggled to their last breath. That’s what she saw over her shoulder as Kallie let loose paralyzing magics and Mika interfered with every step her pursuers took. She’d been helped, protected, coddled, … spoiled. The plan had worked for her and not them because it was never meant for them.
That was when she'd lost her colours again. She didn’t understand why her vision did this, why it slipped into darkvision after her mother’s abuse or when she’d lost her aunt and uncle. She didn’t really care either, she just wanted her family, so it had surprised her when she had entered the Skybound Inn, her first day in Novandria, and the room had lit up at the sound of violin music. Maybe it was love at first sight, maybe it was something else. At this point, it really didn’t matter to her.
Before sleep, she pulled the bag out from under her bed. Gripping the straps like it was a lifesaving device on the open seas, she took a moment before opening it up. She unpacked it, inventoried the contents, and then she put the clothes in her dresser. The waterskin and rations went in her chest for adventuring gear. She moved her boots and cloak to the front entrance. The lockpicks she tucked into a drawer.
Finally, she stood with the train schedule in hand, every instinct telling her to keep it, repack the bag, escape routes and contingencies keep your freedom. It felt as if her aunt and uncle were staring at her. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath she held the paper over a candle and set it aflame, letting it burn up before dropping it into the hearth.
“My home is where they are and I won’t give it up this time. I’ll just have to make a new plan.”
A Close Call
She comes into her hideout from the sewers, her dress ruined, mask pulled off, and hair fallen into a mess. She drops her coat on the floor and shivers as she closes the secret entrance behind her before going to collapse in a chair. Burying her face in her hands she runs her hands back into her hair.
"Merde. What a mess."
She had warned him. No. He had warned her. Warned her to be careful of Fey deals, as if she didn't already know. He had said he'd be careful.
Yesterday...but yesterday, she had seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. That hint that he wasn't thinking. He had already made a deal with someone, someone who so suspiciously showed up at a convenient moment. The same Eladrin who had kidnapped herself and others had been setting everything up. And now... Dona had no idea just how deep he was in this court intrigue of the Fey.
Maelie pulled her hands back and realized they were full of tears, black streaks of her makeup had come off on her fingers, and she shivered and sneezed again. The meds wearing off and she now felt decidedly ill from her nights in the cold Eisen winter.
She trudged to the small vanity and pulled her hair back and began removing the makeup. Her movements meticulous and robotic. When she was done, she removed the contacts, restoring her green eyes and she made the mistake of looking in the mirror.
This is who they will see if it all comes unmasked. Raven black hair, green eyes, fine elven features. A face that, somewhere out there, her own hunters were searching for. Unmasking was the last thing she could handle.
She put her head down onto the vanity and wrapped her arms around herself and sobbed. She had been so happy. So secure. So free. And she had love. Love from three beautiful people, but in how many ways was it threatened?
She looked back in the mirror and saw not Maelie, not Fox, but that little girl that lived in a colourless world. Alone and unsure. No Uncle Mika to lighten the mood, no Aunt Kallie to hold her close, neither of them there to explain how you manage to juggle all these lies and identities when the ones you love are endangered and one misstep by any of you could make it all come crashing down.
Dragging herself to the small bunk, she pried herself from the dress, grabbed extra blankets, and slept in her hideout. She wasn't okay, she couldn't go back to them yet. She needed to be ready, a step ahead, and mostly... she needed to hide the little girl again.
But for now, she just needed to cry and wish this would all go away.
Am I losing?
Victor… why had she called him that back there?
Maelie was better than that, she was careful with her words, and afterwards she had even recovered well. But it wasn’t enough, the words were said, and she was left to deal with it. She was an expert liar, always careful with truths. So why the slip this time?
She thought about him, about their meetings, the careful words, but just then she had just wanted to be closer. She wanted to share things with him, enjoy moments together with friends, and just be with him.
Victor and Maelie, names in private, in whispers, in bed. Not in public. Not in company. It wasn’t that kind of relationship.
Right?
Victor had this sense of secrecy and danger about him. It intrigued her, the flirting and games contrasted to his attentive kindness and care. She rarely knew what to expect and she wanted to throw herself into the game. But this one… she was feeling like she was going to lose before she figured out what the rules were.
He had been embarrassed. Kept quiet. Confirmed nothing.
Victor…no, Sir Orsei had goals, a future he wouldn’t speak of. A sister to care for. A father to spite. All the while, considering his place and responsibilities. When he had spoken of the people who depended on his family, the people he wanted to be a good patron to. Dreams. Dreams that depended on privileges and reputations. He had said he wouldn’t turn her away in the future…but he didn’t know it was all a life that she did not fit.
Thief, criminal, swindler, scoundrel.
Consciously thinking about her profession never brought feelings of shame, but it did remind her why she did it. The reason she had such a passion for living outside the law was because with each theft she was one step further away from her mother.
She understood having a parent you could never please. One who heaped equal parts duty and disdain upon the shoulders of their own children. She had escaped that life entirely long ago. Her mother had passed, and she had absorbed the news with indifference. She lived her life now as free as the birds in the sky thanks to her adoptive aunt and uncle.
But still, her shadow loomed. Behind every responsibility. Every noble she met. Every action performed out of duty. She saw her mother and she ran from it.
She had run from it when Cardinal had insisted on their differences. And the same when Sir Orsei had refused to tell her his dreams. The fear that speaking them would see them crushed by someone else. The shadow that loomed behind him ready to snuff out any secret joy he found and his resignation to it made something inside her scream. Because she knew she could never be happy in a life so restrained and dutiful. The scar on her chest was a reminder of the life she had escaped. He needed someone else, he would find them, and it was with them that he would share those moments. Not her.
So why? Why had he reached out? Why had he reached for her hand? Why had she let him take it?
It is getting harder and harder to run away.
She didn’t know the rules.
The stakes confused her.
And she didn’t know when to quit. Or if she even could.
The Den
The lock of the warehouse’s side door clicked and opened, Fox entered and left the lights off. Used to the dark, the odd part was opening the door with a key. Closing it behind her, she stepped into the warehouse she ‘owned’, or rather Garrus Heinrich owned from beyond the grave. Several forged documents, a lot of postage, and a disguise as Mx. Bauer, Mr. Heinrich’s associate who is overseeing his business in Eisen, Maelie had acquired and renovated the warehouse for her own purposes. It had taken a few weeks of bringing in one craftsman, then another, to do the work piecemeal and quietly.
As she went to the large crate in the back and reached for the secret lever, she hoped it was worth it. The crate unlocked and she stepped inside and closed it behind her. Stepping around some debris and junk she reaches down to a handle and lifts a trap door to reveal a ladder down into the now hidden cellar in the foundation of the building. Descending, she closes the door and enters her den.
The secret entrance leads down to a stone cellar beneath the main foundation, the scent of the sewers is faint, but present. The saferoom is dark and it takes her vision a moment to adjust before she could find the lighten lantern and turn it on. With colour back in her vision she surveyed her hideout. A large table in the middle of the room, an armoire in a corner, several lead-lined chests, and a desk in the corner. A small bed with comfortable pillows and blankets sits against a wall. A slightly used, but comfortable armchair and table not far from the lantern.
She runs her hands along the furniture as she walks around. Sitting on the bed a moment she hopes she won’t have to use it anytime too soon with how cold and damp it is right now. But comfort was not a necessary part of this, that’s what her room at the Skybound was for. Warmth, comfort, company, and pleasure were separate from her professional work as a thief. The way it should be, for her protection and that of the people she’d come to care about. If the Rooks ever searched her room there, they’d find nothing, and Cardinal could not be accused of knowing anything. If this place was ever found, there would similarly be no connection to her, Donatien, or Victor.
A small smile spread across her face as she began to unload the backpack she had brought. Disguise and forgery kits, extra lock picks, crowbars, and various masks, hoods, and dark clothes for her heists. This Den is hers; this is where Fox lives, and this is where she would keep her secrets.
The Last Rule
November 27th, 1882, - Novandria
Another night, another rooftop. This time in the Central Ward, dashing across the tops of the markets and offices of the heart of the Novandria. Maelie had seen Cardinal back to her room, said good night, exchanged kisses and delirious grins, and said good night again. But this week. This bloody week. Her heart hadn’t pounded so loudly in her ears since those first heists, cons, and adventures with her aunt and uncle.
Too many feelings after feeling nothing for months. She’d found so much life here in an energetic city with adventure around every corner. She had dreamed of finding a place like this all her life, even before, when everything was grey, this was the dream. Adventure and solve puzzles and fight monsters. Outwit rivals and pull off clever feats. Fall in love…
She came to a stop, suddenly not trusting her legs with the hop to the next roof. Stepping towards the edge, she let the vertigo wash over her and felt how similar it was to falling in love. The doubt crept in, looking at the jump, the feeling of being in the air, a chasm of injury and pain below her if she falls, and no matter how much skill and practice… every leap is kind of a leap of faith, because you never really know.
Cardinal made her delirious. So deliriously happy since she saw her bright smile on the back of the train. The complete, unrestrained joy of getting to experience something new, of being free, of looking at the world and being happy despite all she had been through. Maelie had nearly messed it up, her pride and hidden triggers that she’d never explain. Too much she wouldn’t explain. Still, even now as Cardinal took her leap, kissed her in that moment when she was taking every risk she could possibly take with that audition. How could Maelie not love her?
Donatien helped her relax, his calm charm had been a comfort since she’d arrived in this city. Sensitive and a bit wild at the right moments, she loved his readiness for clever games. She wondered about his mother, his father, and family though… is he safe? Will he need to run the way she has? Will the circus pack up and leave? Will Dona run or will he stand and fight… and die like Aunt Kallie and Uncle Mika had. She had to rethink what she was doing. Check the rules, know the stakes.
She readied herself for the jump but stopped again. Victor. That didn’t turn out at all how it was supposed to. Have a night out. Have a night in. Parties. Sex. The comfort of physical intimacy and the ease of getting lost in a night of passion and lust. But it was all supposed to be temporary. Just a night, maybe two. But the hungry way he looked at her, it made her feel desired, and yet she felt safe. He’d had every opportunity to try and take advantage of her, and yet, the ‘rake’ had been a perfect gentleman. Aside, from all the hedonism, of course. And that’s where it didn’t make sense. Why does someone like Victor have no dreams for himself? It’s like his life isn’t his own even as he seemingly snubs the responsibilities of family and society.
She continued standing there at that precipice, worried about her options. Mika had taught her to be clever and cagey. Lie, cheat, steal, it didn’t matter. The rules are for people who want life to be the same, steady, routine, boring. But… he had always harped on her to be careful, the one thing she was horrible at. Kallie had taught her to be kind, vulnerable even, so much of what her aunt had talked about had seemed only a matter of their little makeshift family until her own heart had made decisions without her. Now she felt torn between these teachings. How had those two made it work?
She looked down from the rooftop again and stepped back, walking away. This could all be the worst idea ever. She could ruin Cardinal’s career. Donatien’s circus could be banned. If Victor is holding out for some semblance of respectability then associating with her would be the last thing he should do.
…and yet. Cardinal had brought back colour to her life. It was far more literal than she could explain. Hiding in alleys, stowing away on ships, making deals in dark rooms, all to escape her pursuers in Castille and Avalon. She had spent so long seeing the world through her elven darkvision that she had forgotten what colour there was to see in the world.
…and yet. Donatien was shrewd, charming, and clever. He had risked running into his mother, who clearly frightened him, to save Maelie from the kidnapping. Random it might have been, but he also didn’t recoil from her afterwards either. They were in that together now.
…and yet. Victor… must have something right? He’s a good liar. She had to admit that. But… maybe this is for the best? Including her in his life beyond their joint excess and revelry was obviously not something he was keen on.
She just wanted to know his dreams. The things he most wanted to do. Goals, achievements, things to watch and support like she had Cardinal. Like she would Dona. But no, not Victor. It had all been a silly mistake, her heart running away with her like some teenaged girl reading fantasy stories of running off to adventure and falling in love. They don’t all turn out in the end. She knew that all too well.
”One: Always know the rules of what you're going into.
Two: Know the stakes on the table for yourself and others.
Three: Know when enough is enough and it's time to get out.”
Her uncle’s words rang in her head… maybe it was time she finally listened to that last rule.
"I guess this is what 'appens when you do not listen to the rules." She said aloud to the night, hoping that someone might have a different idea. But the night stayed silent and she quietly made her way down to the streets for an unexciting, routine, and safe walk home.