E6T3

[+Sorana she/her]

On 4.4.2023 at 10:10 PM, EmulatonStromenkiin said:

Balance thought for a moment. "The top of the building would be preferable. I will meet you there. "

He walked calmly outside, and made his way to the roof of the six story building. He still needed to figure out the conversion rate between Norts and Crysts. How irritating.

Mike watched him go, calmly stayed where he was, carefully contained his urge to move, to run. Only when Balance wasn't able to see him any more did he start counting. To hundred, and then again. And then he started to run. Back to the other room, where he opened the hidden door by pressing his palm against the wall, the gentle green announcing that the motivator had accepted his signature, the soft click announcing that the lock was open. Mike rushed through the door, firmly locked it behind him again and then shot along a corridor, around a corner, down some stairs.

His foot caught on one of the steps and he stumbled forward, missed the next step and tumbled to the ground, falling down the remaining staircase in an undefined lump. With a groan he hit the floor and lay still for a moment, before he slowly got to this feet again. His arm hurt, his right knee throbbed and the rest of his body protested as well. "Squid." he hissed and pictured the little creature jumping back into the darkness that housed them all. "Running down stairs is dangerous." his words sounded empty, like a mother who repeated the same phrase again and again and again. His fear that had driving him run had vanished and he continued his way more slowly, limped along the next corridor until he reached his home. He unlocked another piece of wall, that turned into another door at his touch and stepped through.

On the other side of the door he paused for a moment, sorted his thoughts before he made his way around the room, picked up a bag and started to stuff things inside. After he'd packed he sat down on a chair and pulled his shoe off, took a good look at his foot. It was red, slightly swollen and it hurt. With a sigh he wrapped it in some strip of cloths he had cut from an old shirt whose holes had made it impossible to be worn anymore and then put his shoe back on.

He slung the bag over his shoulder and pulled out a small device. Pick up complete. read a new message and he checked its time stamp. Only a few minutes. He left his room while typing another message to one of his contacts, asked them to take a close look at the street, described the bag he had used. Then he sent the same message to another one and grit his teeth. The ten chrysts wouldn't be enough to pay them, but if he went without food for another day or two, he should be able to stay in their good graces. With a grimace he sent the message to a third person, inwardly saying good bye to the new warm coat he had planned to buy using the money from the theft.

When he joined Balance on the top of the building he kept some distance between them. He didn't trust the guy and the last thing he planned to do today was to try out if he could survive a fall from a building. Which he couldn't.

"The motivator has been picked up." he informed Balance. "Are you able to track the new person as well, if I show you the area where the pickup happened?"

[Koloss17 She/They]

5 hours ago, I think I am here. said:

"Yes ma'am," Tsyan said, groaning and shakily standing to his feet. He'd dealt with superior officers, generals and - once - a Ghostblood council member, but surprisingly this older lady commanded more authority than any of them in those few short words.

Maybe he he was still dazed from the fall.

 

She asked what she could give him.

A job, thought Tsyan sourly.

"A job," he accidentally said out loud. Storms.

He backed away from the lady. Despite the pain, his steps were quick, precise, and firm. That was the training.  "Forget that. I'm no beggar," he growled at her.

well he clearly looks like one, she thought. Unfortunately, she was looking for someone to hire.

Against her own urgings, Clotho responded.

”What type of job are you looking for?”

This man was certainly not the scholar or refined but somehow sympathetic noble she was looking for. Do you really think we’ll find anything better?

 

The Alleycity she knew was not a place where you can get much better than this without selling your soul to Death himself. But the Alleycity you know might not be my Alleycity, she thought.

Keeping up the powerful facade that she was trained to pull off wonderfully, she looked at the lurcher distastefully for a response.

[I think I am here. he/him]

1 hour ago, Koloss17 said:

”What type of job are you looking for?”

So there was a job available. Tsyan narrowed his eyes at the woman, searching her face, scouring for lies. For a moment, he sweared the noblewoman looked almost conflicted - but then the moment was gone and she was back to her signature look of superiority.

He was no beggar. But when even the local butcher-shop rejected you...

"What type of job are you hiring for?" he asked, pacing back and forth like an Axehound getting its first taste of blood. "I'm no house-servant, though. I won't cook your food and iron your clothes."

That had to be said. These nobles - they assumed anything of guys like Tsyan. He searched her face again for weakness he could exploit, but found nothing in her demeanour. She was good.

"I'm good with a dagger," he continued. "Good at killing things. Good at getting into difficult places." And he was better at all three with iron.

It was a sore reminder. He started getting agitated. He hated this situation, hated asking for a job, hated the look on the woman's face. If he delved into the mess of his copperminds he was sure he'd find more reasons to hate.

The woman had too much power over him. He needed to play a card from his hand. He stopped pacing.

"And I'm good at figuring things out," he said. "Like how I figured out you're all alone in that big mansion. No security."

He stopped talking, let the implication hang silently in the air.

Edited April 13, 2023 by I think I am here.

[Koloss17 She/They]

17 minutes ago, I think I am here. said:

 

"What type of job are you hiring for?" he asked, pacing back and forth like an Axehound getting its first taste of blood. "I'm no house-servant, though. I won't cook your food and iron your clothes."

That had to be said. These nobles - they assumed anything of guys like Tsyan. He searched her face again for weakness he could exploit, but found nothing in her demeanour. She was good.

Where are my house servants anyway? If she needed a house servant, Clotho sure wouldn’t need to ask the likes of him. Though he would be cheap labor, money was never the problem.

Quote

"I'm good with a dagger," he continued. "Good at killing things. Good at getting into difficult places." And he was better at all three with iron.

It was a sore reminder. He started getting agitated. He hated this situation, hated asking for a job, hated the look on the woman's face. If he delved into the mess of his copperminds he was sure he'd find more reasons to hate.

Well today, so was she. Less the killing part, but if she had a dagger, she could certainly put up a fight. 
 

So she wasn’t with a killer today? That’s nice. She doesn’t seem to encounter all that many selves that have killed, and most of them were accidental.

Quote

The woman had too much power over him. He needed to play a card from his hand. He stopped pacing.

"And I'm good at figuring things out," he said. "Like how I figured out you're all alone in that big mansion. No security."

He stopped talking, let the implication hang silently in the air.

That gave Clotho pause. Good at finding things? She was in need of a detective…of sorts.

I’m sure I can find better than someone who just threatened me.

Can we?

”Well, given your detectiving skills you have shown thus far, it seems that you’re not very good at it. Anyone could figure out that I’m alone in this manor. I’ve lived here for 5 years. Ask anyone nearby and they will tell you that I live alone.”

While nothing there was technically a lie, it wasn’t the whole truth. Her house had…moved. Changed. That was all in the past now, though. 
 

“Unless you can give me something other than stating the obvious, I doubt your ‘skills’ will be any use to me.”

[I think I am here. he/him]

1 hour ago, Koloss17 said:

“Unless you can give me something other than stating the obvious, I doubt your ‘skills’ will be any use to me.”

Tsyan stepped forward, irritation burning. How many more hoops did he need to jump through?

He tried to think.

She'd paused for a moment when he'd mentioned figuring things out. She'd looked conflicted earlier despite her strong demeanour. She carried herself like a true noblewoman despite living in a mansion alone for - did she say five years?

Put all that together and you got - what? There were better Ghostbloods for this kind of work than Tsyan, the types who buried their heads in books.

"You're desperate," he said uncertainly. "You have money, but you can't solve your problems with it. You're not a fake noblewoman, not a con artist. But you're not shocked I kill people. You're..."

Tysan cursed. The woman wasn't unreadable, she just seemed... contradictory. A paradox.

"... you're more than you look," he said finally, hating to admit he knew nothing else. He was no detective. Would searching his copperminds make a difference? The thought stopped him.

"I'm a coppper Ferring," he said, wanting to change the subject. "If you need someone to find things out, I got a good memory."

There were no other cards to play. Had this been another day, another battlefield, Tsyan would have shown this stuck-up chull the meaning of fear. But right now, the battlefield was the conversation, and he felt frustratingly outmatched.

[Koloss17 She/They]

13 minutes ago, I think I am here. said:

Put all that together and you got - what? There were better Ghostbloods for this kind of work than Tsyan, the types who buried their heads in books.

"You're desperate," he said uncertainly. "You have money, but you can't solve your problems with it. You're not a fake noblewoman, not a con artist. But you're not shocked I kill people. You're..."

Tysan cursed. The woman wasn't unreadable, she just seemed... contradictory. A paradox.

"... you're more than you look," he said finally, hating to admit he knew nothing else.

Well, she couldn’t expect someone to figure out what she was that easily.

He clearly tried hard, and with his current state, what he came up with seems to indicate some amount of skill. Though Clotho was still not sure how much skill there actually was.

Quote

He was no detective. Would searching his copperminds make a difference? The thought stopped him.

"I'm a coppper Ferring," he said, wanting to change the subject. "If you need someone to find things out, I got a good memory."

There were no other cards to play. Had this been another day, another battlefield, Tsyan would have shown this stuck-up chull the meaning of fear. But right now, the battlefield was the conversation, and he felt frustratingly outmatched.

That made Clotho pause. A copper ferring? Nearly exactly what she needed for herself. But would that help regain the lost memories within herself?

It wouldn’t hurt to give this man a shot.

I shouldn’t trust this man.

Once again going against her less trusting selves, Clotho decides to give it a shot.

”Well, I suppose I can give you a day or so to prove your worth. You’re hardly in top shape anyway.”

This is a bad idea

”I suppose iron must be acquired. Where do you get your vials?”

[EmulatonStromenkiin he/him]

10 hours ago, Sorana said:

Mike watched him go, calmly stayed where he was, carefully contained his urge to move, to run. Only when Balance wasn't able to see him any more did he start counting. To hundred, and then again. And then he started to run. Back to the other room, where he opened the hidden door by pressing his palm against the wall, the gentle green announcing that the motivator had accepted his signature, the soft click announcing that the lock was open. Mike rushed through the door, firmly locked it behind him again and then shot along a corridor, around a corner, down some stairs.

His foot caught on one of the steps and he stumbled forward, missed the next step and tumbled to the ground, falling down the remaining staircase in an undefined lump. With a groan he hit the floor and lay still for a moment, before he slowly got to this feet again. His arm hurt, his right knee throbbed and the rest of his body protested as well. "Squid." he hissed and pictured the little creature jumping back into the darkness that housed them all. "Running down stairs is dangerous." his words sounded empty, like a mother who repeated the same phrase again and again and again. His fear that had driving him run had vanished and he continued his way more slowly, limped along the next corridor until he reached his home. He unlocked another piece of wall, that turned into another door at his touch and stepped through.

On the other side of the door he paused for a moment, sorted his thoughts before he made his way around the room, picked up a bag and started to stuff things inside. After he'd packed he sat down on a chair and pulled his shoe off, took a good look at his foot. It was red, slightly swollen and it hurt. With a sigh he wrapped it in some strip of cloths he had cut from an old shirt whose holes had made it impossible to be worn anymore and then put his shoe back on.

He slung the bag over his shoulder and pulled out a small device. Pick up complete. read a new message and he checked its time stamp. Only a few minutes. He left his room while typing another message to one of his contacts, asked them to take a close look at the street, described the bag he had used. Then he sent the same message to another one and grit his teeth. The ten chrysts wouldn't be enough to pay them, but if he went without food for another day or two, he should be able to stay in their good graces. With a grimace he sent the message to a third person, inwardly saying good bye to the new warm coat he had planned to buy using the money from the theft.

When he joined Balance on the top of the building he kept some distance between them. He didn't trust the guy and the last thing he planned to do today was to try out if he could survive a fall from a building. Which he couldn't.

"The motivator has been picked up." he informed Balance. "Are you able to track the new person as well, if I show you the area where the pickup happened?"

Balance looked out over the skyline visible from the rooftop. It was bewildering, but there was a strange logic to it from the twisting alleys and the broad Streets to the low houses and the divided districts. He turned as he heard Markus open the door and come out. He was watching him warily, and keeping away from the edge.

"The motivator has been picked up." Markus said. "Are you able to track the new person as well, if I show you the area where the pickup happened?"

"I will be able to do that," Balance replied in his buzzing voice. "But we need to start higher." 

He spread out his fingers, and his eyes took on a blueish hugh. A platform of lines formed beneath him and Markus, which rapidly propelled them up another 300 feet, stoping so that most of the city was visible.

"What is the name of the place?" Balance calmly asked.

[I think I am here. he/him]

6 hours ago, Koloss17 said:

"Well, I suppose I can give you a day or so to prove your worth. You’re hardly in top shape anyway.”

This is a bad idea

”I suppose iron must be acquired. Where do you get your vials?”

Tsyan ignored the patronising tone of the noblewoman. The realisation that he'd scored himself some money was more than enough to wash away his irritation for now.

He couldn't help it - he grinned at the noblewoman. She seemed conflicted again, and whatever he mentioned about his copper had worked. Hey now, maybe he was a better detective than he thought.

"Anywhere," he said quickly, but trying not to sound desperate. "Convenience stores. Metallurgist shops. Everyone sells vials on the side. It's iron, not atium."

A thought quirked him. Slowly he turned towards the butcher-shop a short distance away where he'd been rejected. He smiled. That manager would rue his days.

"That store's the closest. I... know the owner," he said to the woman. He looked at her up and down.

"And I'd like some advance pay. To make sure you're not leading me on. Drab clothes, empty manor. You're not exactly shining riches yourself."

He didn't doubt she had some money, but he had to reply about the comment about not being shape. Give him iron - and he would streak across the sky. His fingers twitched and he licked his lips just thinking about it.

Edited April 13, 2023 by I think I am here.

[Koloss17 She/They]

58 minutes ago, I think I am here. said:

Tsyan ignored the patronising tone of the noblewoman. The realisation that he'd scored himself some money was more than enough to wash away his irritation for now.

He couldn't help it - he grinned at the noblewoman. She seemed conflicted again, and whatever he mentioned about his copper had worked. Hey now, maybe he was a better detective than he thought.

 

This man really was desperate. But with desperation comes loyalty…

A jolt of memory shook through her. Sister, dead. A house on the brink of collapse. Her, taking up the mantle. Clotho, growing to become the daughter her father always wanted. If only he knew how flawed she really was.

 

A tear ran down Clotho’s cheek.

So that’s your story.

 

Wiping the tear away, she refocused.

Quote

"That store's the closest. I... know the owner," he said to the woman. He looked at her up and down.

A clear lie, but one that she knew was going to be on his head rather than hers.

Quote

"And I'd like some advance pay. To make sure you're not leading me on. Drab clothes, empty manor. You're not exactly shining riches yourself."

He didn't doubt she had some money, but he had to reply about the comment about not being shape. Give him iron - and he would streak across the sky. His fingers twitched and he licked his lips just thinking about it.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled some boxings* out of her purse. Given that she had been away from the world for so long, she estimated what she thought would be about right. 

“This should buy you the vials you need, and then some. Just know that there is more where that came from, but only if you prove your worth in the task I need you to complete. Now go buy your vials; I have notes to write down.”

Edited April 13, 2023 by Koloss17
Phrasing

[I think I am here. he/him]

1 hour ago, Koloss17 said:

Rolling her eyes, she pulled some boxings* out of her purse. Given that she had been away from the world for so long, she estimated what she thought would be about right. 

“This should buy you the vials you need, and then some. Just know that there is more where that came from, but only if you prove your worth in the task I need you to complete. Now go buy your vials; I have notes to write down.”

Tsyan took the boxings, stuffing them in his pockets. They were enough, more than enough, but he didn't comment on them. The woman had money.

He turned and walked in the direction of the butcher-shop, her words echoing in his skull. A task she needed him to compete. He remembered the odd tear that had fallen from her eye before she'd snapped back to her usual self.

Did she dislike hiring Tsyan? Was she emotional about giving her boxings? There were a hundred reasons for the tear, and Tsyan couldn't figure any of them out. He didn't care. He had money!

#

The manager of the butcher store met Tsyan with a cheeky smile.

"I saw you crash," he said. "You're not still looking to be hired, right? Policy's the same. No one to vouch, no -"

Tysan tossed a couple of boxings forward, anger boiling in him already. He didn't need the manager, didn't need any of these ants.

The manager caught the boxings and set them on a table behind him. The back wall was decorated with various steel hooks attached to chains, some small, some larger than a man's head. Most hooks had one cut of meat or another on them. Some hooks were empty.

"Iron," Tysan said. The manager turned his back for a moment, then came out with a few vials. Enough to last a while. He tossed them to Tsyan, who downed one and stored the rest in pouches by his side.

He burned iron. Life filled him. The blue lines burned back into existence. He smiled, adjusting his stance to brace himself.

"Now," said the manager, facing Tsyan. "Seems like you got a job after all. See? It's not that -"

Tysan flared iron, pulling on an empty hook behind the manager. It jerked from its spot and embedded itself in the manager's arm, causing him to scream and collapse. Tsyan didn't get why you would scream if the wound wasn't fatal.

He considered taking back his boxings, but he was no thief. He had his vials. Walking outside again, he pulled on a streetlight and shot himself in the air again, this time actually landing the Pull.

That's more like it.

[Koloss17 She/They]

As this Tysan went away, Clotho pulled out her notebook. And with who knows how long, she took notes. Portfolios on her current selves first, and then an entry on this conversation. Everything was crucial if your memories fade at the drop of a clip.

Then, Clotho heard a scream. From the direction of the shop Tysan had entered. What in Harmony’s name?

 

Heart pounding, Clotho pulled out her cane. As she did, Tysan came flying towards her with a murderous grin.

Ruin.

 

Minds reeling, Clotho had to think fast. Metal. 
The only metal she had on her person was the boxings that she held with her, in her front purse. She dropped them to her side.

She was standing in front of her manor. There were metal objects, but none, she thought, near the entrance. The handle was made of wood, and the lock made of… aluminum, she thought. This was an expensive house, and with it came safety. 

Where were glass knives when you needed them?

 

In a haste, Clotho evaluated her options. She could certainly fight, but she was more of a thief than a fighter. She could run, but that wouldn’t get her far. There seemed to be only one option, and it was not a great one.

“What in the Ascended Savior are you doing?”

@I think I am here.

Edited April 14, 2023 by Koloss17

[I think I am here. he/him]

13 minutes ago, Koloss17 said:

"What in the Ascended Savior are you doing?”

@I think I am here.

Tsyan landed on a nearby streetlight with perfect dexterity, then perched and looked down at the woman. His smile faded. Why did she look so terrified? She'd even dropped a few coins. They lay still on the sidewalk, blue lines streaming from them to his chest.

"What?" he called down at her, confused. He looked back to the butcher-shop, then back to the woman.

"I bought some iron. Didn't take long. Isn't that what we discussed?"

He glanced towards her cane. Had she been ready to fight? The thought alone was enough to make Tsyan smile again.

[Koloss17 She/They]

31 minutes ago, I think I am here. said:

Tsyan landed on a nearby streetlight with perfect dexterity, then perched and looked down at the woman. His smile faded. Why did she look so terrified? She'd even dropped a few coins. They lay still on the sidewalk, blue lines streaming from them to his chest.

"What?" he called down at her, confused. He looked back to the butcher-shop, then back to the woman.

"I bought some iron. Didn't take long. Isn't that what we discussed?"

He glanced towards her cane. Had she been ready to fight? The thought alone was enough to make Tsyan smile again.

A moment of confusion flashed through Clotho. She hid it immediately. This man was insane.

”Are you a rusting idiot? Did you not hear the scream? Did you cause it? Is there any reason in particular for it?”

This was a bad idea. This man is not to be trusted. This man is dangerous. She had just given him iron.

She…would need different selves. Clotho rarely changed selves voluntarily. Every time she willingly erased a past or present history, she missed the potential of discovering their branching point. What made them different from her, and, more importantly, what was the same. 
 

These selves were useful. She would not erase them yet.

Edited April 14, 2023 by Koloss17

[I think I am here. he/him]

45 minutes ago, Koloss17 said:

A moment of confusion flashed through Clotho. She hid it immediately. This man was insane.

”Are you a rusting idiot? Did you not hear the scream? Did you cause it? Is there any reason in particular for it?”

The scream. Tsyan looked back over to the butcher-shop. A wave of irritation passed over him.

"What does the scream have to do with anything?" he asked. Babies screamed too.

"Look," he said, holding his hands up and not wanting to cause any misconceptions. He could see her thinking deeply and his heart began to race. She could cut his employment at any moment. Had it all been too good to be true?

 "I had history with that butcher-shop," he said slowly. "And I did what I do. That's who I am. Not ashamed of it. And if you're hiring me, I think it's important I know who you are, too. Dont want any surpises."

He had already found her impossible to read. Whoever she really was - the answer had to be good. He leant forward on the streetlight.

"So, who are you, lady?"

Edited April 14, 2023 by I think I am here.

[Koloss17 She/They]

2 hours ago, I think I am here. said:

The scream. Tsyan looked back over to the butcher-shop. A wave of irritation passed over him.

"What does the scream have to do with anything?" he asked. Babies screamed too.

"Look," he said, holding his hands up and not wanting to cause any misconceptions. He could see her thinking deeply and his heart began to race. She could cut his employment at any moment. Had it all been too good to be true?

 "I had history with that butcher-shop," he said slowly. "And I did what I do. That's who I am. Not ashamed of it.

So this guy was a psycho. However, he’s desperate. Desperation forges loyalty. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Quote

And if you're hiring me, I think it's important I know who you are, too. Dont want any surpises."

He had already found her impossible to read. Whoever she really was - the answer had to be good. He leant forward on the streetlight.

"So, who are you, lady?"

“The name is Clotho Renoux.” She said. “I’m a noblewoman from Scadrial and an augur. I’m not what you expect, and I never will be. Very few about me will be constant, but one thing is a certainty: I am the best Augur you will ever meet.”

That was a very impressively delivered line, and it felt…instinctive. Interesting.

Edited April 14, 2023 by Koloss17

[I think I am here. he/him]

15 hours ago, Koloss17 said:

“The name is Clotho Renoux.” She said. “I’m a noblewoman from Scadrial and an augur. I’m not what you expect, and I never will be. Very few about me will be constant, but one thing is a certainty: I am the best Augur you will ever meet.”

Tsyan listened quietly, fascination all over his face. A gold misting. He knew they were a bit odd, but even with her answer, this woman was draped in more mystery than a Selish stage play. What did it even mean to be the "best Augur he'd ever met"?

He sat down on the streetlight, dangling his feet in the air. She said she'd never be what he expected. Well, her answer certainly hadn't been what he'd thought to hear from a lady like her.

"So, then, Ms. Renoux," he said, tilting his head to the side. Maybe working for this woman wouldn't be so boring after all. "What's my part in this? What exactly are you hiring me for?"

Edited April 15, 2023 by I think I am here.

[Koloss17 She/They]

3 hours ago, I think I am here. said:

He sat down on the streetlight, dangling his feet in the air. She said she'd never be what he expected. Well, her answer certainly hadn't been what he'd thought to hear from a lady like her.

"So, then, Ms. Renoux," he said, tilting his head to the side. Maybe working for this woman wouldn't be so boring after all. "What's my part in this? What exactly are you hiring me for?"

“I need a sort of…detective. I am nearly constantly burning gold, which gives me incredible ability. Unfortunately there are…drawbacks.”

Should she really be giving this much information to this man? If things go awry, he would have incredible amount of detail on her.

But did that matter, really? She’s not influential, and nobody really knows her. She has no allies, but she doesn’t have any enemies either. Taking a breath, Clotho continued.

”Given the nature of my burning, I forget things. I forget what happened last week. I forget who I owe money to. I forget who I used to be. I don’t even know my own age.”

”I have tried, for years it seems, to retrieve my lost identity. However, it is clear that even with limitless expertise, I cannot unravel my past alone. I had hoped for a scholar, maybe a historian. Perhaps even an allomantic specialist. Though, a copper ferring might be of use.”

 

”Do you think you will be of any use, or are you a waste of coin?”

[I think I am here. he/him]

4 hours ago, Koloss17 said:

”I have tried, for years it seems, to retrieve my lost identity. However, it is clear that even with limitless expertise, I cannot unravel my past alone. I had hoped for a scholar, maybe a historian. Perhaps even an allomantic specialist. Though, a copper ferring might be of use.”

”Do you think you will be of any use, or are you a waste of coin?”

Waste of coin. Tysan scowled at the phrase alone. He'd done many things for his employers, but he was never a waste of coin. If the lady wanted a detective, she'd get one.

"So, that's why you focused on me being able to figure things out,"  Tysan said. "Instead of my other skills."

He wondered what "incredible ability" the lady got from her gold. She had mentioned "limitless expertise". What did that mean?

Could she...?

He dropped from the streetlight, pulling on it slightly to soften his fall. He walked towards Clotho.

"I think you'll find me more useful than a bookworm," he said. "Too much academia, theory... it muddles everything. I get results. I'm straight to the point."

He tapped one of the knives by his side, and winked at her.

"Besides, once you do remember your life, Ms. Renoux... maybe I can help you take care of a few things. A noblewoman must have enemies, after all. Even if she's forgotten their faces."

Edited April 15, 2023 by I think I am here.

[Koloss17 She/They]

1 hour ago, I think I am here. said:

"So, that's why you focused on me being able to figure things out,"  Tysan said. "Instead of my other skills."

He wondered what "incredible ability" the lady got from her gold. She had mentioned "limitless expertise". What did that mean?

Could she...?

He dropped from the streetlight, pulling on it slightly to soften his fall. He walked towards Clotho.

"I think you'll find me more useful than a bookworm," he said. "Too much academia, theory... it muddles everything. I get results. I'm straight to the point."

He tapped one of the knives by his side, and winked at her.

Clotho gave him a thieves’ glare*
 

Spoiler

Look you totally know what I’m talking about here. Side-eye with crossed arms and angsty. You get the gist.

“Look, I’ll give it to you simply. If you get results, you get paid. You try anything funny, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Clotho wasn’t a crew leader, and doubted she ever was. But everyone she worked for knew not to backstab her. She wasn’t the greatest of fighters, at least not consistently, but she was never predictable. If this guy thinks that he can pull something on her, he’ll have another thing coming. Especially since most of her shadows have turned out to be fighters or assassins these days…

No. Those are not my memories.

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"Besides, once you do remember your life, Ms. Renoux... maybe I can help you take care of a few things. A noblewoman must have enemies, after all. Even if she's forgotten their faces."

That was always a possibility. Though, since she had not encountered any thus far, she doubts that if there are any, that they will be of any harm.

”Well then. Now that you know your job, let’s get to work. If you were to retrieve the lost memories of a gold savant, where would you start?”

Edited April 15, 2023 by Koloss17

[I think I am here. he/him]

19 hours ago, Koloss17 said:

"Look, I’ll give it to you simply. If you get results, you get paid. You try anything funny, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Tysan was a bit taken aback by the sudden change in attitude. He supposed this was where he'd have to remember what she'd said. She'd never be what he expected. Nevertheless he nodded respectfully. He liked her more like this, when she deserved his respect.

"If you knew my previous employer," he said. "Then you'd know I wouldn't expect anything less. I've worked under those terms all my life."

Every assassination had mattered. Every missed target - a lost chance, and an advantage gained by rivals and enemies. Authority. His heart pumped with adrenaline just thinking about those days. He felt restless and primed - 

19 hours ago, Koloss17 said:

"Well then. Now that you know your job, let’s get to work. If you were to retrieve the lost memories of a gold savant, where would you start?”

- but first, the investigation. He titled his head and wondered if he had anything about gold savantism in his metalminds. Probably not. Then he wondered if that even mattered for now. Amnesia was amnesia, wasn't it?

"Well what do you remember?" Sounded like a stupid question, but - "I have to start from somewhere. Old interrogation technique. Once we have something, we branch out."

Something occurred to him. He knew he'd forgotten something.

"And where were you going today?" he asked. "Before I... made my entrance."

[Koloss17 She/They]

5 minutes ago, I think I am here. said:

but first, the investigation. He titled his head and wondered if he had anything about gold savantism in his metalminds. Probably not. Then he wondered if that even mattered for now. Amnesia was amnesia, wasn't it?

"Well what do you remember?" Sounded like a stupid question, but - "I have to start from somewhere. Old interrogation technique. Once we have something, we branch out."

Something occurred to him. He knew he'd forgotten something.

"And where were you going today?" he asked. "Before I... made my entrance."

“I was heading over to somewhere more central. Seeing if there would be those with more influence, perhaps the Scholar’s Guild, if they were still around. I have had minimal contact with others for close to five years. My plans were limited.”

Clotho dropped the act. Mostly. This was business, and it felt…right, somehow. That was….her memory. That needs to be written down.

Pulling out one of her notebooks, she took some quick notes.

”In regards to your other question, I remember sparingly little. If you’re talking about actually remembering, I remember nearly nothing. From my own past and memories, that is. Keep in mind, I have three streams of thought in my head at once at any given time.”

”However, I have pages upon pages of notes. Identities and histories of past selves, and occasionally, glimpses of my own memories.”

Clotho held up the notebook she had just written in.

”I make sure to have backups, in case there something happens to the notes I carry on my person. Once I have taken and copied notes, I analyze. Search for clues in the various memories, and search for similarities. Every gold self has a break-off point. There are any number of differences from shadow to shadow, but there is always one event that changes their history. That means that if that is identified, everything before that break point is most likely tied to my own memory.”

Sighing, Clotho continued.

”Due to this, I have gathered quite a lot of information. Memories, of a sort. I know my house name, the names of my family, that my family was quite influential, as well as a general timeline of events leading to my arrival. I have a whole journal of notes pertaining to my own tentative memories if you would like to see it. I also have a rough timeline, if you would find that easier.”

[I think I am here. he/him]

Three streams of thought. Storms, Tsyan could barely keep track of his one stream of thought most of the time. And judging by the mess this city got itself into every few months, he doubted most other people could, either.

He listened closely to her system with her notes. It seemed... good. Methodical. Like it should've worked. But five years alone and only gaining that much info had to mean something could be improved. Somehow.

A walking logic puzzle, he thought.

"Like a walking lo-" he stopped himself, cursing internally. Was his impulse control really that poor?

"It would be helpful to go inside and see your journal," he said, though the idea of poring over notes nauseated him. "If you're not still shaky over a scream that wasn't even fatal."

Storms... a member of the Scholar's Guild really would have been more apt. Or would they?

"Do you ever act on your notes?" he asked. "Visited people you remember? Places? Talk to people you think know your family? Where is your family, for that matter?"

He supposed she wouldn't remember. Scratching his head with one hand, he dug deep in his pockets and took out a handful of copperminds in the other. They were in the from of vintage copper coins, and he laid them flat on his palm. Each had a white note attached to it with writing on it.

He took a copper coin without a note and held it in tight in his palm, dropping the rest in his pocket with a clink.

"I'm ready," he said, then grinned at her. "Don't worry, this one I'll make sure I won't throw away."

@Koloss17

Edited April 16, 2023 by I think I am here.

[Koloss17 She/They]

41 minutes ago, I think I am here. said:

He listened closely to her system with her notes. It seemed... good. Methodical. Like it should've worked. But five years alone and only gaining that much info had to mean something could be improved. Somehow.

A walking logic puzzle, he thought.

"Like a walking lo-" he stopped himself, cursing internally. Was his impulse control really that poor?

"It would be helpful to go inside and see your journal," he said, though the idea of poring over notes nauseated him. "If you're not still shaky over a scream that wasn't even fatal."

Storms... a member of the Scholar's Guild really would have been more apt. Or would they?

This man was…something all right. It’s never too late to back out.

No, it really is.

“Wait in the den while I find some notes. There…should be an open seat.”

Preservation’s Shadow, was she really doing this? She has her selves. They are specifically built for this. They will help.

Leading Tysan to a den, which felt empty and unused. In reality, it was where she often transcribed, with pencils and papers carefully stacked on a side desk. There was four unused chairs, with a table in the center. While they were occasionally used, they looked…barren. This was the saddest noble’s mansion she had seen.

As she made her way over to her notes, she found herself checking for metal. As a noblewoman’s house, it came with quite a few portraits and candles, all cast in some sort of bronze of brass. There was doubtlessly countless secret compartments and entrances to this mansion, but Clotho had never bothered to look.

Grabbing a transcribed copy, which was surprisingly legible, she made her way back. Should she bring more? How many visits away from this guest would she want? 
 

Grabbing a few more books, she continued back. 

 

[I think I am here. he/him]

Tysan followed her into the den, trying not to make eye-contact with the large portraits across the walls. The sophisticated noblemen and noblewomen they depicted were probably long gone, dust on these furnishings. Not that there were many furnishings.

"So, that's a 'no' on whether you've visited the things you remembered?" Tysan asked. He supposed it may have been hard for a woman like her to get in some of the ... darker places. Well, maybe not, actually. She'd surprised him before.

Taking a seat and noting the carefully organised stationery, he wondered how someone could live like this for five years. The furniture wasn't bad, just... lonely-looking. His scrappy apartment on the poorer side of Smokestack was half the size and had twice the stuff. But then again, his apartment and everything in it was probably worth less than one of these bronze candles.

Storms, right now I'M worth less than a fancy candle.

He watched her get some books and his eyes widened.

"They're... all your notes?" He had some reading to do. "I may need more than one Coppermind."

Pouring a few of his copper coins over the desk and hoping she wouldn't mind, Tysan held out two, white notes written on their surface.

"Tell me," he asked. "Which one should I erase? This one has the agricultural economics of New Hallendren as of... okay, 13 years ago. Not exactly relevant. And this one..."

He held up a second one. "Is the complete archives of TruthSpikeTruth.org. Pretty sure they said everyone should be a drab... for some unspecified economic reason. I think they also believe uranium to be the 17th Allomantic metal?"

@Koloss17

Edited April 17, 2023 by I think I am here.

[Koloss17 She/They]

10 hours ago, I think I am here. said:

Storms, right now I'M worth less than a fancy candle.

He watched her get some books and his eyes widened.

"They're... all your notes?" He had some reading to do. "I may need more than one Coppermind."

“Oh, Preservation, no. These are only a synopsis of my notes, the ones that specifically pertain to things that might help in this particular issue.”

If Clotho had only kept this many notes in the span of 5 years, she would be much further behind than she was now.

Setting them down, Clotho gave descriptions. “This is a journal of all of the connections I have made. A summary of sorts. Within it, there is a rough timeline of all of the facts about my life that I am near certain of.”

”This is a journal containing the memories that I myself have remembered. Without help of other selves. These are the most concrete pieces of history I have.”

”these other books are shortforms of all of the selves that I have documented over the last 5 years. They by no means contain every bit of data about them, but they contain the pieces of information that I believe to be most relevant.”

”and this,” Clotho said, “is a collection of the remaining notes from before I arrived in Alleycity. Sparingly little survived, as many were stolen or damaged on my way here.”

Clotho felt that this would be a good start for this particular problem, but she doubted it would be enough. There were countless pieces of information, and there was certainly connections she had failed to make.

Quote

Pouring a few of his copper coins over the desk and hoping she wouldn't mind, Tysan held out two, white notes written on their surface.

"Tell me," he asked. "Which one should I erase? This one has the agricultural economics of New Hallendren as of... okay, 13 years ago. Not exactly relevant. And this one..."

He held up a second one. "Is the complete archives of TruthSpikeTruth.org. Pretty sure they said everyone should be a drab... for some unspecified economic reason. I think they also believe uranium to be the 17th Allomantic metal?

Fillfully erasing memories? She…couldn’t fathom why. Sure, neither seemed particularly helpful, but what if there was something useful there?

”Do what you wish. I do not think I am the one to tell you what to do with your own memories.”