Poisonous Fox

The gloom at the back of the tavern fit my mood just fine as I took my breakfast.

If someone were to ask, which were more interesting, the stained and grimy wooden table, or my cream laden porridge, I would easily answer the table.

As I continued prodding my porridge, I almost chortled, thinking about how ‘porridge’ was a misnomer. Marianne was the one that pointed it out, that my bowl contained more cream than anything else. When I had first tried doing this, it had been a necessary compromise that almost worked. The cream made it almost tolerable.

But days later, my stomach churned and roiled with dissatisfaction, yearning for the taste of something more substantial. Most likely meat. The craving gnawed at me like a ravenous beast, causing me to question my very nature. No, my stomach definitely craved meat. It seemed more and more that bits of my non-humanity were poking through the Guise. I worried that it would fail. Could it fail? Given my luck, the spell could and would and at the least opportune of times.

As these troubled thoughts swirled within my mind, my roommate Marianne Frostlight, she gracefully slid into the seat across from me. Not for the first time, my breath caught just slightly when I saw her, but not for the obvious reasons, not because of her ethereal beauty, nor her almost shimmering skin, or even her general icy allure. No, my breath caught because she reminded me of a sister lost.

"Good morning," she said, resting her own porridge down. "And how do you find yourself on this fine day? I couldn't help but notice you were up and at'em even before I got up! Weren't you working late last night? I never knew you were a morning person. In fact, from how you've acted in the past."

She continued speaking non-stop. This was perhaps the reason she reminded me of my sister. Not for the first time, I lamented my shoddy memories. Even my sister's face slipped my mind.

"Ah..." I said, trailing off, once Marianne paused speaking. "It... it went well enough?" In truth, I had meant to ask her for advice, and to see what she thought of those mothersworn peacekeepers. "Good morning, by the way."

Her keen eyes must have picked up on my mood; they lingered on my uneaten porridge. She furrowed her brow slightly. With a hint of concern lacing her words, she gently inquired, "Is everything going well? You seem uncharacteristically pensive this morning. Did you ever turn in last night? I had thought I saw you, but it might have been a dream..."

"A good dream, I hope?" I asked, forcing my mouth to quirk up in a slight smile. "At least if I was in it..."

Her brow furrowed further. "Jackie..." she trailed off. "What's wrong? What happened? Was it the peacekeepers last night?"

"You heard about that already?" I asked, surprised. I wondered who Marianne had gotten that choice piece of gossip from.

"A little," she said, waggling her hand side to side, before she deflated. "Truth be told, I was listening in to your encounter from our room. The windows were open, and I had trouble sleeping, and did they really accost you like that?! I couldn't believe it! The absolute knaves!"

"Ah," I said, wondering how to approach this. On one hand, Marianne seemed to be a tender soul, one I would hate overburdening. But on the other hand, she already knew at least a little of it, and likely it would come out sooner rather than later. I might as well get in front of it. "Did you... hear of anything else last night then?" I asked.

"No... ?" she held her head askew. "What else happened? Something else happened?!"

I winced.

"Jackie! Tell me this instant what happened or I–"

"Alright, alright!" I hurried before she drowned me in another flood of words. "You'll be hearing about it soon anyways..." I paused, taking in her expression. "And I could use some advice."

Her eyes were still narrowed.

"Uh-huh," she said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall. "Spill."

I swallowed. This was uncharacteristically intense for her. So before she took some ill-thought out and draconian action, I began to tell her the most pertinent details. Naturally, I added a theatrical flair to it, to hopefully rob the actual horror from the events.

"Last night," I began, my voice a mere whisper, with myself bending partway over the table, "I found myself entangled in a confrontation with the peacekeepers."

"Yeah?" Marianne said, leaning forward slightly. "I knew that much. What else?"

I smirked. "Their corruption was palpable... Their intentions nefarious. They demanded what I was unwilling and unable to give! They leveled dastardly threats–" I noticed Marianne's lips curling upwards, if slightly. I found myself getting into the story as I went, having likely more fun than I should have. But Marianne was nodding along, hanging off my words. It came with a sense of empowerment. And the attention was not unwelcome either. From a platonic perspective. "-and then they fled, to conspire and plot their vile... plots? But! But, that was not all," I added. "Are you familiar with the name, 'Samuel Grant?'"

Marianne twisted her lips slightly before nodding, "I think so. One of the important humans here?"

My eyes narrowed just slightly. Once again, I was taken by her ethereal, almost shining skin. And her blue hair was most definitely not common, from what I have seen.

I nodded slowly. "He's apparently a cousin to the baron," I said. "By foul chance, or malicious preparations, he was mugged soon after the peacekeepers left. A bit too quickly to be coincidental, I think."

"Did the peacekeepers–?" Marianne asked in a hushed voice.

I shook my head. "No, at least not directly..."

"But?" Marianne asked. "Go on! Spill!"

"I think they purposefully sent some lowlifes this way," I explained my suspicions.

"On the Hill?!" Marianne gasped. "They wouldn't! Did you get any proof, by chance? If so, we could get the Low Knights in on this. It would be a scandal!" Her eyes shined.

I shook my head once again. "The thugs were killed when I rescued Samuel, so there was no asking them. And of course, there was no proof. At least not that I found. I did hear them talking though. They had not targeted Samuel directly, but were just grabbing whatever patron they could find. Between that, and the timing, it was suspicious."

"Not proof though, you're right." She frowned. "But still–what were they even doing up here?! There's at least one checkpoint, though maybe they came up through the sewers?"

I shrugged and shook my head, having no idea just how they had snuck past the peacekeepers. I doubted all the peacekeepers were in on any single scheme, though I probably should avoid discounting that possibility. Maybe they were all working together?

"I might be able to help figure this out," Marianne said, frowning. "What did the lowlifes look like? Any markings on them?"

"Yeah," I said. "Armbands with a yellow 'P' on each."

"With one of the Pit Crews then," Marianne said slowly. "But this is far, far, outside their usual territory. They shouldn't have been up here, not at all, at least not in that aspect of their business."

Did Marianne have some ties to the criminal underworld here? If so, then she might be an invaluable ally in tracking down Emboru's sibling. If I decided to trust her with something so big. The thought of doing so left me nervous. But maybe, maybe it was something we could work our way up to.

I sighed heavily, perhaps dramatically.

"Now I'm stuck trying to figure out how to deal with this," I said. "I was actually going to ask you this anyways this morning..."

"Ask me what?" she asked, looking a mix of worried and complimented all at once, that seemed to meld into a general feeling of excitement.

"What I should do? A part of me thinks this job might be too much heat. That I should disappear–"

"You can't!" she immediately protested.

"Easy," I say, trying to wave her back down into her seat. "It's not like I want to. But it might be for the best." When Marianne's frown grew, I hurried to finish before another unseemly interruption. "This isn't going to be the end of it. Who knows how they'll escalate. If I stay here, then you and everyone else will stay in their crosshairs."

"In their what?" Marianne asked.

"Their sights. A target for their ire."

"No," she said, shaking her head with absolute surety. "They'll come after us regardless, now that it's an issue. If you left, then, then... we'd be in an even worse spot of trouble! And besides--" her voice dropped low and quiet, so that I strained to hear "-there's no guarantee they won't follow you, or that some other crew won't sell you out. You'll be safest here. With us."

I had not thought of that exactly. I blew out a heavy breath. "Well what should I do then?" I asked.

She remained quiet for some time, considering, while I continued pushing my meal around. The cream was barely appetizing, and the porridge certainly was not.

A sudden epiphany seemed to illuminate Marianne's visage as she raised her head, her azure eyes reflecting a newfound hope.

"You've an idea?" I asked her, somewhat amused by her mercurial attitude.

"Yes! Esmerelda! I think..." she twisted her lips again as she thought it out, "I think she can definitely do something to help. Maybe getting you reassigned, or making it so it would be too scary to mess with you."

"Esmerelda, scary?" I asked. "That's not exactly what I think of when I think of her." A flashback to her in her freshly soiled silk bathrobe came to mind.

"Ha... yeah... you'd be surprised," Marianne finished vaguely.

I shrugged, not particularly caring to ask more, especially as it would likely come to light soon. And besides, Marianne's thoughts were little different from my original plans to ask Esmerelda for help. And if Esmerelda was unable to give meaningful aid, then I could always leave later.

"Just," Marianne said while reaching over and putting a cool hand upon my own, "Allow me to speak with her first, Jackie," Marianne suggested earnestly, her fingers entwined with mine in a gesture of solidarity. "I am certain that together, we can ensure your safety against these disgusting men. While keeping you your job here."

"Very well," I acquiesced, nodding, though keeping my voice barely above a whisper, fragile as a snowflake upon the breeze. "I place my trust in you and Esmerelda." At least, so far as they knew, and until a more necessary course of action made itself required. "Maybe with her guidance we'll figure something out, afterall."

"Yeah!" she said. "Just have faith, you'll see! She's really good."

With the weight of our previous conversation still lingering in the air, Marianne shifted her focus to the uneaten porridge before me. The mushy grains glistened with cream, their blandness a stark contrast to my tumultuous thoughts.

"Jackie," Marianne inquired delicately, casting a sidelong glance at my neglected meal. "Is there something wrong with your food? Your appetite still seems diminished. Do you still not have an appetite, after last night? I suppose I wouldn't be too surprised. Or is it the cream? Too much?"

I looked down at the bowl, the very sight of the porridge igniting a gnawing hunger that had only been growing. I needed meat. But it seemed meat was uncommon here in Southbridge, and I hesitated, wary of revealing this facet of my identity to Marianne, lest it cast me in an even more deviant light. But then again, maybe Marianne would hold her judgment? If she was even human to begin with? And her reaction would help measure her dependability. I decided to go with it.

"Truth be told, Marianne," I began tentatively, my voice laced with trepidation. "My current cravings lean towards... more carnivorous fare." I braced myself, awaiting her reaction with bated breath.

Marianne's eyes widened momentarily, betraying a flicker of surprise, but her features quickly softened into understanding. It seemed that she, too, was no stranger to harboring secrets and concealing aspects of her true self.

"Ah, I see," she murmured sympathetically, her tone devoid of judgment. "Well, nothing wrong with that! We all have our peculiarities when it comes to our inclinations - culinary or otherwise..." she looked off to the space above me, seemingly remembering something other at her words. "Well–" she clapped. "No worries! So you want some meat with your meal? Truth be told, it's not that uncommon elsewhere–just not the norm here. It's not strange at all, I promise."

Relief washed over me like a soothing balm, assuaging my fears and bolstering my resolve. If I were to stand any chance of accomplishing my mission – seeking information on behalf of Emboru and his sibling – I would need to place my trust in Marianne and embrace the vulnerability that entailed.

"Thank you, Marianne," I whispered, probably making a bigger deal of this than I should have, or would have normally. But I was building on the foundation of our relationship here, and I needed to make sure that keeping my secrets was rewarded. "Your acceptance means more to me than you could ever know," I finished, doing my best to avoid sounding as lame as I thought I did.

"Of course, Jackie," she replied warmly, her azure gaze shimmering with sincerity. "But you know, if it's meat you need, Cook has a private pantry full of it. You may recall partaking in such a feast during your inaugural evening under this roof, although your memories may be clouded by an excessive indulgence in spirits."

Oh. Somehow, I had forgotten about that. But Marianne had already seen me eat meat, at least once. Was my memory beginning to slip? The thought that it might be was terrifying, and not completely unrealistic, so far as fears went. Afterall, I had already forgotten most of my life from before. And there was magic in this world.

"Huh," I said, lacking eloquence. "That is... huh. You know, I had forgotten about that."

"Not surprising, considering how much you drank," Marianne said, snorting a quick laugh. "But if you really need meat, then go talk to Cook! She keeps a pantry to herself, given her... you know... nature? Yeah, that. See if you can get her to share somehow."

"You know?" I asked, pushing my bowl aside, "I'll go do that right now. Thanks for reminding me!"

"No problem!" She called after me.

So, with newfound determination, I ventured forth toward the bustling kitchen, its cacophony of sounds and scents assaulting my senses as I crossed the threshold. There, amidst the steam and sizzle, I beheld the cat-like humanoid, the Kaivan nicknamed Cook, her feline visage contorted in ire as she berated her hapless assistant, Anne.

"Little Anne!" Cook roared, her voice a veritable tempest of fury. "How many times must this one remind the proper technique for preparing these tubers? This should be easy! Or perhaps it is foolish thoughts of boys that fill your mind? Perhaps your dream is to work in the brothel, at least, if any men would have your flesh?"

As Cook's wrathful tirade continued, I hesitated, my heart hammering within my chest as I contemplated the wisdom of interrupting her explosive outburst. If I were honest with myself, Cook scared me, at least a little. Yet, fortified by my gnawing hunger, I steeled myself for the confrontation that lay ahead.

"Excuse me, Cook," I interjected, my voice carrying unfelt confidence. "I heard I might convince you to open your stocks of meat?"

At my words, Cook's ire towards Anne seemed to dissipate like fog. Her gaze fell upon me, her reflective green eyes weighing me. Until finally, she spoke. "And why would this one share? Will there be payment, this one wonders?"

"Payment?” I asked, licking my lips. “What… what sort of payment are you after?"

I hoped not more rats.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 65

Mind: 75

Spirit: 49

Talents:

Athleticism (3/9):

Climbing I (3/9)

Featherlight I (3/9)

Inversion (2/9)

Stealth I (6/9)

Trackless Tracks I (3/9)

Area Coverage (5/9)

Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

Eschiver I (1/9)

Evasion I (1/9)

Impending Sense (1/9)

Lucky Break (1/9)

Spells:

Illusion I (5/9)

Touch (8/9)

Guise of the Kitsune (3/9)

Closed

Gifts:

Obsession (3/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)