Logfile from Envoy. (OOC) Log start: d:\logs\2010-11-07_lilac_Blitzheim.html

The ride along the trans-Nordika rail is a familiar one, though the accomodations aren't quite as lavish as before, and Lilac and Klaudia miss the princess play. Still, it's not uncomfortable, the passenger car shared with some other riders that more or less keep to their own benches and doze or hold quiet conversations. None looked inclined to pay the human any special attention, and even less inclined to bother the korv. There's a modest meal to be made out of a tenner and some fruit packed along, and they're full when they arrive. Even after they've disembarked on Blitzheim's grand platform, and Lilac is toting her halberd, and Von Horne her spear, there seems to be little attention other than a cursory glance by a commissar. "Even more hubbub here than Justinople or Spearhead," says the korv, her mask packed up and her head unadorned, looking out into the bustling, sooty city and its many towers, steep roofs, and clocks. "Not very inviting aside from the language being familiar. I believe you said

you had some ideas for accomodations?"

Lisandra had spent much of the trip in her own thoughts, or else conversing or sleeping the ride away. Occassionally she would draw her weapons and check them, something she's had to remind herself to do as often as not. While her skills are there, possession remains somewhat novel to a young woman who never had much of an education. "Oh, I have some friends in this city that may board us," Lisandra replies as she gazes out across the bustling expanse. "I just have to find them. This city is almost as complicated as Nagai, and last time, I was trying not to stay or look too hard. Well!" The young woman waggles her spear, held butt down, towards a street. "That looks as good as anywhere, to begin. Maybe we'll see an armoury."

Both women begin proceeding down the main boulevard away from the rail platform, leaving behind the bells and steam of the train yard for the drab colors of a city washed out by a grey sky. Here, there are plenty of hotels, inns, and restaurants to accomodate travelers, expensive ones close at hand and cheaper ones as they travel further in. Staying along these large thoroughfares, navigation isn't as difficult as the great city would have one think at first, and Lilac can find landmarks she can use to get to one of the Museum's contacts that Abbort Werner told her about. "Who are these friends of yours?" asks Klaudia.

"They're ... um, wellllll ... " Lisandra has never really be sure how to talk about the Curators. Being a member of a secret organization is something she never expected, and she finds it hard to know what to say, even having lived with concealing her own monstrocity. As she struggles with how to put the matter, she glances watches the inns slowly pass by, and realizes she had been becoming accustomed to finer living while with Umeko. Now that things are much closer to where they were for her, it all gives her a sense of nostalgia, of times changing, and back again. "Well," Lisandra wiggles the fingers on her free hand, "they're people who have helped us and who we help. I wish I could say more; you understand, don't you, Klaudia?"

"Frankly? I don't," says the korv, cocking her head to look at her companion over the fur ruff of her mantle. "I understand if you don't want to talk about it, and I won't question you, but I can't begin to guess at the circumstances, and I'd have to say I'm quite mystified."

"To be honest, so am I," Lisandra says, exhaling. She shakes her head as she walks, looking up in to the uniform grey sky. "So much has happened, and sometimes, I find that I struggle to make sense of it. Of anything. It must be all the stranger to you that a person in my condition had allies, let alone contacts." Her head shifts, following a window display full of well-made dolls, which she watches longingly. "But, they help me, and I them. They just ... I don't know. They were Lady Umeko's friends before, and they seem trustworthy. It's all so vague and bigger than someone like me, though. I wonder at how I got here."

The korvess holds a rough, scaley wingclaw up. "Come now, child. I hardly find it surprising you have allies. What am I, otherwise? Aside from that, though, and from what you've told me about your past travels, I don't think it's odd you would have associates, given all the fantastic things that you've touched and have been touched by. If you don't feel as though you can say more about them, I will assume you have a good reason and be satisfied with it. I can't guess at why it would be the case, but I take no umbrage." The dolls wear dresses almost as elaborate as Umeko's, or the ones in Castle Pieksvaldt. "If these people can help you, I think we should go to them."

"They say they can, and you know, I do believe them. Maybe I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed, and scared. I'm so glad I have friends. If I had to do this alone, I don't know what I'd do." As the dolls pass on by, Lisandra admits, "I used to have a doll, did you know that, Klaudia? My father took it from me, because he said I needed to grow up and support the village, not have my head in the clouds; not dream of cities and songs. I wonder what happened to all of them. i was going to stop by the lumberyard in Justininople and ask, but ... I just couldn't! What if they were looking for me? What if they were gone? And, maybe ... what if they didn't care." The dolls fall out of view, and her face, reflected in the window, with it. "My home is gone, isn't it, Klaudia? Whatever the answer is ... It's gone for me. I'm so glad I have you all!" She sucks in a breath, wiping at her eyes with her free hand. "Oh, I'm not going to cry again." She waggles her spear, trying to show she's in control a

and not about to break down. "I'm not, really!" As her hand drops, she forces a smile, eyes too glossy.

Klaudia gives her protege a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "We can't say for certain it is. If it is a part of your life that matters to you, you can seek it again when you're ready for it. For now, like you say, you have us." The city around them becomes less polished as they continue to walk, eventually leaving the main street for several blocks and passing through a more residential district. It's not as affluent, but not dark or unfriendly either, at least not as Blitzheim goes. The streets are cobblestoned, the houses built tall and narrow with thick timbers, signboards for small shops and services swinging out over the road. It ends in a cul de sac blocked with a low brick wall and a taller hedge, over which can be seen clock towers and steeples some distance away. The cul de sac almost forms a little plaza, the sidewalks allowing small, tended trees to grow up from gaps in them, the street's end lined with a few stout buildings, one three stories, and the others two. A sign hanging out over

the three story building reads, "Mateh Rings" and is shaped like a scroll with a few brownish, broken-up circles at the bottom. A few chairs and tables sit outside it, a picture window looks into it, and the smell of mateh and tarts wafts from it.

"I think this is it," Lisandra says, pausing before Mateh Rings. She sniffs at the air -- old habits, or at least cursed habits, seem to die hard. "At lest, I hope it is. I'm starving." In truth, she ate before she departed the train, and it hasn't been all that long. The woman had alsways been quick to eat when she could, a side-effect of a year of living from meal to meal and near starvation. Her pregancy seems to have made her even faster to a meal, but at least she's calmed down since passing the doll shop and seems to have managed a genuine smile over the smells. "Well! Lets go in; I think all three of us want some food. Oh, and answers." Stepping forward, Lisandra pushes the door open and holds it for her mentor, following the older Korv on inside.

Both women troop in, the door rattling a nut chime over it like the one from Snowshoe's. The inside is lit with warm yellow light cast from numerous glass lanterns filled with paraffin, the place much brighter than the previous pubs and restaurants she's been to. The place is decorated with warm, polished hardwood and colorful oil paintings, several in a Gallisian style. Along one side of the room is a counter with glass cases full of pastries, breads, and muffins. At the back is a brightly polished steel contraption covered in pressure gauges, currently hissing and bubbling. There's more tables in here, though none are currently occupied, but there are signs that they were, a few plates with crumbs and crusts, along with empty cups. A human man in a flour dusted apron, a little heavy around the middle, with some silver streaking his brown hair and mustache, is in the process of collecting the plates, and he looks up when the door opens. "Guten tag! Come in, I can have a clean table for you ready in a

moment."

Unusually, for a cafe, many of the walls here have bookcases along them, and an archway leads into another room where rows of bookcases can be seen, the smell of old paper mostly suppressed by mateh. A sign on the side of the arch says, "Marion the Librarian's Book Emporium".

Both the sign and the greeting are in Bosch, but lessons with Klaudia have been paying off, and they're perfectly understandable to Lilac.

"Oh, thank you!" Lisandra replies, waving to the man. She lets her spear settle against her shoulder, arms wrapped around it as she turns her attention to the pastries. An unabashed, "Mmmmm," issuing from the girl as she puruses the selection. "Have you ever had a Naga Truffle, Klaudia? They're little -- or big! -- pasty things all covered in baked dough, with flavoring and spiced or what-not. The inside is just meaty paste, and they're not really for humans, but I like them. Jadai also has fish wrapped in this green ... paper, and that's really good, too, an-" Her ramble cuts off as she notices the archway, then squints at the words as she reads them slowly. "Oh!" She glances at the human, and asks, "Do you mind if I look in there while you get our table ready, sir?"

"Not at all, not at all. There's some in there that Marion will even let you take in here to read, you'll have to ask her which," says the aproned man, smiling.

"I will, thank you again!" Lisandra smiles back, bowing a little, then heads in to the bookstore to look around. It's here she expects her contact will be; the Curators always were very big on books and book-related symbolisim, she's decided. "Hello, Miss Marion?"

A few steps into the bookstore opens it out, another counter on the opposite side of the room. Books of all sizes line the many shelves in here, what must be a few rarer copies put in glass faced cabinets or cases. A mousy-haired woman behind the counter, younger than the fellow in the cafe but bearing a striking resemblance to him, smiles at Lisandra on hearing her name. She's wearing an apron as well, though it's dark green and there's no flour on it, and her dress is otherwise simple. "Hello there! Something I can do for you?"

Lisandra's smile is soon turned on the mousy-haired Marion, and she says, "Oh, yes. My name is Lisandra, Lisandra Dragomir. This is my mentor, Klaudia von Horne. We're here to have a bite to eat, and also, I was wondering if you have a copy of Baking with Flavio, fifth edition."

The young woman behind the counter blinks once behind her thick glasses, then smiles. "Oh, yes! We've actually gotten one just recently, it's still in the back room. It's pretty quiet out here, so come on back with me." She beckons the women behind the counter, and disappears into a door at the back of the room. Von Horne glances at Lilac, but says nothing.

Lisandra glances back, but shrugs a little and says, "We shouldn't keep her waiting, should we?" She smiles lopsidedly, then heads right after the human woman. "It's all a little exciting," she murmurs as the go. "Do you think I can get my pastry back here?"

The korv shrugs her one shoulder, and follows along, the women being led through and the door closed behind them. The storeroom back here has plenty more books and sheafs of paper, stacked up a bit more haphazardly, a desk nearby covered in materials and tools for binding, repairing, and retouching books, along with a few empty mugs and burned down candles. Marion sits on the edge of her desk and smiles again, gesturing at a chair if the obviously pregnant woman would like to sit. "Please, make yourself comfortable. You're safe here. What can the Museum do for you?"

Lisandra eyes the chair for a long moment, and, seemingly having lost some internal mental battle, relents and walks over to have a seat. her spear is laid aside, and her hands fold over her tummy as she leans back. "I was hoping the two of us could find some lodgings here, or nearby, where we'll be safe. I plan to remain here for a while in search of a young man, but there is the possibility of others problems, like the Cinders," Lisandra makes a face, "and even Chronotopian inspector involvement give what I was and am. Will that be a problem? Do you know about me? Klaudia?"

"I'm afraid I don't, but that's not uncommon," says Marion, folding her hands over her apron. "The Museum is quite scattered, but word can travel pretty quickly among Curators, so Grigori might have gotten word you were coming at the university, he's the Archivist for our little branch. If your need is urgent we can send for him right away, but if you'd like we can put you up for now and send a message on to him. He often comes here for some mateh and a scone anyway. Who sent you along to us?"

"Abbot Werner of Justininople, ma'am, " replies Lisandra, who glances at Klaudia for a long second before looking back. "My mentor is not one of us," she goes on to say, apologetic, "but Miss von Horne saved my life, despite what I was, and has been my teacher and bodyguard on this journey. I believe she may be helpful to our cause, too, but I was never prepared very well about these things, and I'm afraid I've been put in the uncomfortable position of trust between people who have protected me. I also want you to know, in case I've made a mistake, here. I don't want to cause any trouble, or to keep any secrets; not here and now, anyway. My history may also endanger you so ... So there is is." he young, pregnant human woman takes a breath, and adds, "I wouldn't midn resting here and waiting, if I haven't already made a mess of things?"

The human woman glances over at Klaudia as well, pursing her lips a little. "Oh... well, that's rather irregular, but I guess what's done is done. Abbot Werner is a good and wise man, and if he trusts you, so do I." She nods and adjusts her glasses. "My uncle, Bertram, can give you a room above the cafe, you'll be safe and comfortable there. Just let us know if you need anything, and we'll do the best we can. We'll send for Archivist Grigori."

Lisandra blushes faintly upon seeing she did make a mistake, but bobs her heads and murmurs a "thank you," when the Curator decides to ignore the mistake. "It's very kind of you," she adds, grateful. "We'll try and not be an inconvience. Both of us are used to living off the countryside, so we won't need very much. I do think I'll want to come down and eat pastries, though. I always wondered how people make those." Looking about to get up, Lisandra seems to think better of it, and settles back in again. "Do you mind if I read?"

Marion adjusts her thick glasses, smiling. "Oh, not at all. If you see something you'd like to take up to your room, just let me know and I'll see if it's one that doesn't need special tending. Make yourself comfortable, and just let Bertram know if you need anything. We'll let you know when Grigori arrives."

Lisandra smiles at the offer of hospitality, inclining her head. "I think I'll sit here for a while. Walking around is getting harder and harder, and I just traveled across Sylvania! I never thought I'd appreciate a chair this much; it's funny how the world can change." She glances at her mentor, and asks, "We should probably talk, to, or ... " Her gaze shifts back, " ... should I not talk about this further? Ummy mostly did the talking for me; I'm most of the 'get artifact and ffight supernatural terrors' part of things."

Marion looks back and forth between the winged woman and the half-winged bird. "Well, if I may, what is her relation to you?"

Lisandra purses her lips as she cocks her head to the side, regarding Klaudia. She's silent for a moment, thinking, and finally replies, "She was my hunter, and nearly killed me several times." She rubs at her neck, still remembering that chain, but begins to smile as her explaination turns to better memories. "When we finally met outside of a battle, in Rookery, we spoke for a while, and it turned out we weren't really enemies after all. She saved my life and nearly lost her own protecting me from an artifact, and now she's my teacher and my friend. I trust her as much as I trust anyone in the world."

The mousy-haired woman blinks behind the thick lenses of her glasses. "My goodness. Well, we've seen plenty of strange things, and if you'd vouch for her, the Archivist might ask if she'd like to be brought into our confidence. We could use all the capable people we can get. If not, we'd have to ask that she stay out of the loop... no offense, madame." Marion holds her hands up, but Von Horne just shakes her head. "None taken," the older woman replies.

"Oh, that's fine. Miss von Horne is a very practical sort of person, she understands need." Lisandra smiles again, then, turning, begins to scan the shelf of books. "You don't mind that I'm here, do you? I should note I have certain enemies, and as I said, Miss von Horne was my hunter. I don't know the laws on ex-monsters, and then there's the Cinders ... I think Vandriger isn't the type to act outside the game board, at least."

Marion shakes her head. "That's what we're here for, it's the part we play. We expect to see strange things, and being careful about who we associate with lets us trust those that we do. In whatever power we have, you're safe here." She studies the Von Horne again. "And really, I would think the skills of a professional huntress would be invaluable where most skills around here lie with cataloging."

Lisandra pauses in her perusal of the assorted volumes, staring ahead, somewhere far beyond them. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to someone telling me, "you're safe here," or if I'll ever feel safe, but still ..," she glances, back, giving a smile, " ... hearing it means a the world to me. Thank you. And you're very right about Miss Von Horne, she's learned about so many things, I still don't think I know a quarter of what she has to teach. And really, she's like us, just in a different way. She fought all her life to protect the world an stop an artifact's misuse, never knowing, until the end, what caused it all. She's taught me too, like I said. Her skills are exactly what our agents need to address the products of magic and artifice."

"You laud me too much, child," demures the korvess. "I merely fell into the role I played. But I am glad to continue it. In either case, we've had a long trip. Lisandra, I think you should lie down and rest some. You've had a long day... several long days, and you'll want to be alert to meet this archivist of yours."

"I can never laud you too much, Klaudia!" Lisandra laughs, rich and musical, before pushing herself up to standing. She adjusts her sword, then sticks her spear under her arm, so she has enough room for books. Several tomes are gathered: The Keyless Work, a treatise combining Gearite dogma with mechanical prinicples; Blood of Our Highest, a rather heavy looking tome on Chronotopian noble lineages, and Flora of the World, an botony guide. These she carries, tucked gently against her chest. "Well, off to rest and read. Please, show me the way?"

"Right through here." Marion takes the two other women back toward the cafe and takes one of the side doors up to a second story, and then up again to a loft. It isn't very spacious, and the ceiling is low, but it's cozy, the floor softened with a thick, warm carpet and the sturdy furniture worn into rounded wood corners. There's a heavily quilted bed on one side of the room, while the other has a large sofa that could pass for a bed itself. A writing desk with stool takes up the position benearth a small round window that lets in a shaft of sunlight, wan as it tends to be in Blitzheim. The rest of the furniture vying for space are an overstuffed chair jammed into one corner and a nightstand pressed up close to the bed. A lamp hangs from the ceiling instead of sitting on the nightstand, which is probably there for books or glasses. An empty chest made of aromatic hardwood is last, sitting at the foot of the bed for linens and belongings.

The young lilac-eyed woman's eyes light up when she sees the room, "Oh, how cozy! I'd spent the last few months in an empty haunted castle, and I'd have exchange the whole thing, for a room like this. I really don't need much; this is a bit like the home I always wanted to have." She steps inside, placing her books down on the nightstand, then begins to place her weapons aside and remove her greatcoat. "Not that the castle is mine to give, of course -- it's for me to find who can. Which reminds me ... " Laying next to her spear is a wrapped pole-like object, which Lisandra carefully frees from its protection, revealing a scepter with the head of a korv. Also revealed is a drawing of a korv's face, and a few letters, which had been bound with it. Lisandra picks the cane up and turns it to face the young woman, tapping the butt on the ground, showing the picture with her other hand. "Have you seen this man? I was asked to find him."

Marion had detoured into the kitchen, and follows the others up the stairs with a kettle and cups, and a plate of tarts, simple but freshly baked. The small room fills with the scent of raspberries and tea. Setting them down on the writing desk, the shopkeeper adjusts her glasses to peer closely at the scepter's head and the drawing. "Hmmm... the drawing is too stylized for me to recognize as any individual, and the head of that rod isn't anyone I know. That heavy beak looks familiar, though... I think those of the korv noble houses tend to have that heavier, more severe build."

"It's very regal, isn't it? I feel lacking just holding this." Lisandra turns the head to look at her, and she shakes her head at it. "She was such a wonderful person, even after she had lost almost everything. We all feel like such a shadow to what's gone ... I'll fulfill your wish, somehow." She gently lifts the scepter, reverently placing it back beside its wrappings. "Lady Margeret Pieksvaldt, may she rest in peace. The man I'm looking for is the heir of Castle Pieksvaldt. I did at least take a tome on nobles," she nods to it, " ... so maybe that will help. But first, rest and eating. Thank you so much for the food, and everything. I'll just be here, for when he arrives."

The older woman smiles, putting her hands in her apron pockets. "I'm very glad to help, Lisandra, Madame Von Horne. And it's Pieksvaldt, you say? I'll see if I can turn anything up. If I can't, I'm sure Grigori can."

"I'd really appreciate that. Rookery needs its lord, the sooner the better." After beaming another smile, Lisandra takes the tray of food, walking over to settle down in the big chair. "Just let me know when he arrives, and please, feel free to wake me up if I fall asleep!"

Its been a day and a half since Lisandra arrived at the quiet Chronotopian bakery and book shop, a time of quiet study, rest, and during the hours she feels up to it, going about town to gather information and research possibilities. Various individuals were consulted, from heralds and histories, to blacksmiths and engravers. While informative, her results were also fairly discouraging. It seems the Pieksvaldt name was lost among marriage and intermarriage here in Chronotopia, making finding the new Lord Rook akin to finding a needle in a haystack. Having new weapons crafted seemed equally distant. While the skill is here, Lisandra's life is rich only in struggles; purchasing the time and material is far beyond her means. This has left the new Hunter rather morose, but at least she's not completly out of ideas. In an affort to gather information and smooth relations with her most dangerous enemy, she's decided to write Lord Vandringar a letter.

Dear Lord Hagan Vandringar,

Given all that has happened between us, and our rather unfortunate-

"Unfortunate?" Lisandra asks aloud, blinking. "Is trying to bite someone's hand off unfortunate to me, now? Mmm, but I can't be too upset about it. I don't want him to think I'm begging or cowed ... " She plops her hand down on her quill-free arm, staring at her letter. And as cold as she's been, she's taken to bringing her wings about in the safety of her room, wrapping them around herself like a blanket of feathers. "Maybe ... Maybe unfortunate is the right word ... "

In the time afforded her, Von Horne has renewed hunting contacts, getting in touch with the local guild and other monster hunters. She's also had a simple perch brought up, since the overstuffed chair is rather awkward for her to sit in. She sits on her perch, using an odd combination of hand, beak, and foot to manipulate her iconic spear, cleaning and maintaining it. Without all her bandoliers, knives, and furs on, she looks fairly unremarkable, though getting an impression of a korv's build under their feathers is difficult at best. Flesh left scarred but mostly smooth and healed over is bared at a patch where her left wing was, and mostly covered by the empty sleeve of a loose shirt that the huntress wears with baggy trousers, relaxed enough in the loft. "I wouldn't allude to the incident, child," she says, still looking at her spear as she lubricates the hinged jaw. The smell of oil is somewhat pungeant but not too strong. "He already knows what happened. If you don't want to seem presumtuous, I su

suggest saying something about your appreciation for his time, instead. It'll be enough if he means to humor you at all."

Lisandra looks up, peeking over her left wing. "Oh? That's very smart of you!" The young woman dips her head again, quill scratching against parchment as she rewrites her introduction. "This is the sort of thing Ummy would have handled, she's very good at it. I'm still amazed that I'm addressing high nobles, and working with them, but I think I've become used to living a life outside bounds of regular society. I'm just ... me, and ... here, where ever and whatever I am, never quite being anyone or anything in society. Does life feel the same way to you, too?"

Klaudia looks up again, her expression contemplative. "Mm.. somewhat, I suppose. I think I had more opportunity to ease into it than you. I'm already accustomed to dealing with my peers, and I don't really spend so very much more time engaging society than I did before. The biggest difference is that I don't have the constant shadow of Rookery castle stretching over me. At my age, I don't feel a great need to attend balls or festivals. It's pleasant enough to be able to sit, have an apple, and watch the clouds pass."

"I'm glad you've found some peace, Klaudia, I really am. Looking back, I think this was a very nice outcome to events that could have gone much worse." Lisandra smiles over her wing before her head dips back down and the writing noise resumes. "For me, I don't really know who I am anymore. I was a monster, I've experienced ... other things, I work with an Imperial noble, I've been an Imperial agent, I was honored by the Emperor, then I lived in a castle, but I'm still just a poor peasant woman, and no looks at me as anything but, now that my body looks human again. It's all very difuse. But, at the same time, I don't really mind anymore. Being a kind of phantom isn't a bad life; I'm free, after all. I got what I wanted when I left home, in the end. It's just not what I expected, and I feel very out of place among people. I don't even really feel human, anymore -- but that doesn't bother me either." Her head rises, brows raised. "Do you think it should, Klaudia?"

Von Horne returns to her work, applying a few more strokes of a polishing cloth and then taking her her korv's-beak spear. She inspects it closely for a moment, and apparently satisfied, gives the haft of it a brisk turn, a practiced motion flipping the lower beak-blade to scissor up to the upper one and lock in place with a metallic ring. She leans the weapon in the against the unoccupied corner chair. "Only if you feel you're losing sapient traits like compassion or courage. Otherwise, I don't see that you have to identify with any particular species. You're you, that's what's important.

"I think you're right. I'm lucky to have such wise friends!" More scratching, then a pause, and a second more, and Lisandra is sitting up, gazing at a letter in her hands. "I don't think I'm losing any sapient traits; if anything, I feel a lot stronger than I used to. The beast was something I relied on, but besides the teeth and claws, mostly what it gave was a lack of restraint. And that, despite all it let me do, was undermining me as a person. And you know what? I like being able to associate with anyone. I like Korvs. I like Jupani. I like the reptile people of Nagai. It's nice to know, I can live with anyone, because I don't belong to anyone." Lisandra sets her letter down, then eases herself to stand, wings stretching out. "Eerrg! I've been sitting too long, and my baby weight is making my backside sore."