Chapter 6 (Continued)

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

Georg makes a waggling motion with his hand. "Depends on how good the builders were and how cheap the people who paid them were. If this were in a more well-to-do part of town there'd be a good fire wall between them, but here..." he trails off, taking in their surroundings. "Even with thin, cheap walls it'll be noisy, though, so the barrier might be better to keep quiet as long as we can."

Breathing heavily, Asra makes a gesture with her hands, conjuring a shimmering barrier of light between them and the prying eyes of the guards, effectively hiding them from sight as the light bends around them to show only the pathway behind them. Asra's stomach turns from what, in her eyes, is a relatively simple spell for her, and her mind swims from the surprising amount of effort it takes to do this.

"By Altam's hairy ass-crack, move," I urge, toddling towards the back door as I maintain the spell. "Before I lose my lunch."

As soon as they are out of sight, Asra dispels her magic and braces herself against the wall, looking white as a sheet. "O's and A, what is happening to me. It was never this difficult to cast spells before." She mutters weakly.

[AftermathGM]

At the end, she offers a quiet "Thank you." It comes out sounding a little more earnestly grateful than she had hoped - her barriers on her emotions are still too low, everything rubbed as raw as her chafed wrists and ankles.

From behind Iana, the woman says gruffly, "I've known too much before too."

When Iana stops flexing her fingers, the woman takes her hand -- not gently, but not roughly either -- and repositions it to be tied up again. Like the other hand, she tightens the restraints enough to allow for more feeling in Iana's hands. Without further comment, she gathers up the tray and heads for the door.

[AftermathGM]

Asra's difficulties with simple spells are becoming a concern. Once is chance. Twice begins to suggest a pattern. Her vertigo comes and goes in waves, so intense one moment that she has to grip Georg's arm to keep from sinking to the ground, only to fade into a distant queasiness the next. The streets are narrow here in this part of town, the alleys even more so, but as the two of them move toward the back door of their destination, another wave of vertigo makes her look up and she gets a glimpse of the sky.

The sky overhead roils with sickly color: bruise purple, greasy browns, the red of congealed blood. It nearly makes her vomit. Her knees go weak and she crumples against Georg's side. As she dares look up again when the vertigo fades, so do the colors, leaving only the faint trails of the swirls and streaks that had been there a moment before. With the clarity that comes from no longer wanting to lose one's breakfast, Asra realizes she's seen something like this before on the image screens in Rothenend's office, peculiar storms rolling across landscapes in unnatural colors. How that's connected to her magic isn't immediately obvious, but there certainly does seem to be some connection.

Despite the distraction and the difficulty maintaining the barrier, they don't appear to be detected as they approach the back door. There's one bored young man, hardly old enough to be shaving consistently, standing beside the back door but he doesn't appear to see Georg and Asra. At least the barrier is working. For now. There might be more sets of eyes on the alley, but a quick look about doesn't reveal any. Taking some time -- time that may or may not be available given Asra's state -- might reveal other watchers.

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

From behind Iana, the woman says gruffly, "I've known too much before too."

When Iana stops flexing her fingers, the woman takes her hand -- not gently, but not roughly either -- and repositions it to be tied up again. Like the other hand, she tightens the restraints enough to allow for more feeling in Iana's hands. Without further comment, she gathers up the tray and heads for the door.

Iana nods, quiet and sober, and this time when she says "Thank you," it is a bit softer, muted to match the other woman's tone.

What else could she say, as the woman starts to leave? I hope I don't see you again? or, I hope I do see you again?

Or, I hope you get out? But she doubts that the woman would accept even that much sympathy from Iana - nor that she would even be able to phrase her words in a way that their intent would be clear, given how frayed her nerves have been.

So she says nothing more, and just lets the woman leave.

When the door closes, Iana gives herself the luxury of a few seconds to just sit. Breathing, flexing her fingers, squeezing her eyes shut and not bothering to try to fight back the tears that have been prickling behind her eyes.

But only a few. Because she has something new to investigate, and that does more work than anything else possibly could to chase away the wave of weeping before it begins.

As soon as her breathing steadies again, Iana sets back to work. She arches her long neck up, using every fraction of additional flexibility provided by the newly loosened bonds to slide back in her chair, trying to see what is behind her.

[Georg Elsebethson]

"By Altam's hairy ass-crack, move," I urge, toddling towards the back door as I maintain the spell. "Before I lose my lunch."

As soon as they are out of sight, Asra dispels her magic and braces herself against the wall, looking white as a sheet. "O's and A, what is happening to me. It was never this difficult to cast spells before." She mutters weakly.

When someone tells Georg to move like that, he doesn't stop to ask questions. He keeps one hand on Asra's shoulder, partially to help keep within proper distance, partially so he can catch her if she falls over. "Steady," he murmurs in a low voice, carefully moving his weight with each step to keep his footfalls light. Asra's difficulty is worrying, especially if it's tied to the general magical difficulties in Meriava, but he doesn't have time to worry about that right now.

He also doesn't have time for the blasted guard standing next to the door. "Of course he's right there," Georg murmurs under his breath. No way they get the door open and inside without him noticing. If Asra was in better shape he might have waited to scout the alleyway and see if the boy goes off to take a leak or nod off. Instead it's going to have to be fast and stupid. "I'm gonna grab him," is all the warning Asra gets before Georg maneuvers her over next to the door, bringing the edge of the barrier next to the guard. He leans Asra against the wall of the building before, lightning quick, he reaches out with both hands and grabs the guard, one arm around his neck and the other hand clamped over his mouth (or, rather, face).

"Shhh," Georg says. "Keep quiet and play nice and this doesn't have to be unpleasant."

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

He also doesn't have time for the blasted guard standing next to the door. "Of course he's right there," Georg murmurs under his breath. No way they get the door open and inside without him noticing. If Asra was in better shape he might have waited to scout the alleyway and see if the boy goes off to take a leak or nod off. Instead it's going to have to be fast and stupid. "I'm gonna grab him," is all the warning Asra gets before Georg maneuvers her over next to the door, bringing the edge of the barrier next to the guard. He leans Asra against the wall of the building before, lightning quick, he reaches out with both hands and grabs the guard, one arm around his neck and the other hand clamped over his mouth (or, rather, face).

"Shhh," Georg says. "Keep quiet and play nice and this doesn't have to be unpleasant."

Asra is not at all thrilled by the fact that she is placed against the wall of the building like a piece, but she does have to admit the masonry does feel cool against her skin. She leans her face against the pebbled surface, unbothered by the little dents it is leaving in her skin as she tries to get her churning stomach under control. She hardly spares a glance to the poor boy being manhandled by Georg.

"Y-you've got this one," she encourages him weakly, holding a thumbs up as she closes her eyes to try and ignore the worry gnawing at her weakened stomach at what the emergence of those swirling colors meant. "Just let me know when I can drop this stupid spell."

[AftermathGM]

The guard, hardly more than a boy now that Georg sees him close up, tries to squawk but whatever sound he might make is muffled completely by the large hand covering his mouth. His entire face, really. He tries to squirm up enough to catch a look at Georg's face but it's to no avail. He is well and truly caught, a lake trout in the fisher's net.

Come to think of it, this lake trout feels a little like he's been tossed up on the deck. His breath isn't coming nearly as easily as he'd like. He bats ineffectually at Georg's arms, wriggling to try and free either his mouth (unlikely) or his nose (maybe), something that'll open up an airway.

It wasn't supposed to end like this, he thinks as his vision starts to swim. Easy money, Armok said. They just need people to stand around and watch for undesirables, he'd said. I don't know about undesirable, but I'm guessing invisible giants were one of the things I was supposed to watch out for.

His fuzzy head kicks around the contradiction of having to watch out for invisible giants. There's something there that doesn't quite match up, but he can't quite put his mental finger on it...

[Georg Elsebethson]

Georg doesn't really want to choke this kid out, but a squawk like the one he just muffled could alert others and that would make things messy. Well, messier. He carefully repositions his fingers to free up the boy's nose. "Listen, kid, I don't want to hurt anyone, but my friend's in there and I don't want anyone hurting her either." He pauses a beat to let that register. "If you don't have as good a reason as that to be here, I'm gonna kindly suggest that it's not worth having to fight a guy who can lift you up one-handed. There are better ways to get some quick coin."

"You could let us by and forget this happened." Georg glances around the alley to make sure no one else is coming and to reassess his surroundings. "Or I could toss you into that pile of rubbish over there and you could pretend to be knocked out. It looks reasonably soft."

[AftermathGM]

Oh no. Ohhhhhhh no. Despite the kid's panic, the confirmation and realization that he has indeed managed to well and truly fuck this up takes center stage in his eyes. This is exactly the sort of undesirable he was warned about!

The only real way out of this is to make it look like he was overpowered and not just... just... corralled. Maybe they'll understand and forgive. Look at this guy! He could probably lift the building one handed. What was he to do? Not a thing except get walloped. So, a walloping it is.

In a moment of what he considers to be true bravery, he nods his understanding, trying to put on the most innocent face he knows. When Georg gives him an opportunity to speak, he says quietly, "Could you... thump me just a little bit? A bit of a bruise'd go a long way, make it look like I at least put up a fight? Then I can go lay down in the rubbish and you can go on your way?" He swallows heavily, a prominent Adam's apple bobbing. "I hope you find your friend," he adds.

[Georg Elsebethson]

In a moment of what he considers to be true bravery, he nods his understanding, trying to put on the most innocent face he knows. When Georg gives him an opportunity to speak, he says quietly, "Could you... thump me just a little bit? A bit of a bruise'd go a long way, make it look like I at least put up a fight? Then I can go lay down in the rubbish and you can go on your way?" He swallows heavily, a prominent Adam's apple bobbing. "I hope you find your friend," he adds.

Georg sighs. The kid makes a good point, and he doesn't want to leave him fearing for his life the way Ishan is. "Alright, but if it's going to look good, it's gonna hurt good." He's not even sure this kid has ever really been punched before. He definitely doesn't want to risk rattling his noggin. "Take the biggest, fastest breath you can and hold it in." He gives the kid two counts, then punches him in the gut. Not hard, by his standards, but enough to knock the wind out of him and leave a hopefully glorious bruise behind. Georg gently helps the kid to the ground and says, "Just lie there and come up with your story. Make it a good one, and that bruise'll get you free drinks for a week at least."