Session 61 - Barely Breathing

Previously, Across The Horizon…
There is magic in Ducorde.
This is easily forgotten in most places. Cardian skies see airships flying overhead more days than not, but those are marvels of engineering first and foremost. The railways that bisect Saron carry valuable words and goods, magical and mundane alike, but the trains are what visitors remember and locals structure their day around. Caerwyn’s magic manifests in stories and tales of heroism long before the time of the listener. The Triad trades in everything, so much so that nothing stands out at a result. Alterna has magic, though the magic that rages around the ruined capital of the old empire is more a story to scare children, at least for most of the world.
There is magic in Machanon, and it cannot be ignored.
A three-hundred-foot-high grandfather clock serves as the Temple of Mechon, the center of worship to the god that gave the city its name, and the tower of time can be seen from anywhere within its borders. Any timepiece that comes within sixty miles of the temple syncs with the clock’s own time. If anyone promises that they will be at a particular place at a particular time, they are, without fail, there when they said they would be. No parties are held within Mechon’s borders, as no one there is capable of being fashionably late. 
There is order in Mechon.
The Meteor arrived precisely at 11:47 AM, touching down at Mechon’s airship dock, the pass good for twenty-four hours and not a moment more. Somewhere within this city lies word of the Machine City, according to the Arbiters of Truth. Somewhere within this city is a man named Blank, waiting for a keyphrase for delivery of an airship the party has no intention of delivering.
Above it all, the Temple ticks, just as it always has.
We join our party as they step out of the aerodrome into the city of Mechon at large…
**
Bast shields his eyes as he looks up at the spire of the Temple, expression somewhere between curious and moderately offended. For a little while, he seems to notice nothing else around him.
"...I mean, you can't call it superior clockwork if it's divinely ordained clockwork," Yves says, adjusting the strap of his satchel over his shoulder. "Very good clockwork, certainly. Amazing magitech, of course. But it's not superior clockwork if half the superiority is coming from another direction. It's like calling a particularly good sandwich the best possible loaf of bread."
"...And I figure we can convert some of the storage space to bunks, when we need to spend a few days in the field," Isa says, continuing an entirely different conversation.
The Aerodrome is in what the locals have called "the seven o'clock hour" of the city, in the southwest. The entryway points the party at the Temple itself, though passage through it is not necessary to continue. This does not stop people from heading up the stairs and inside, locals with their heads down, visitors with their eyes up.
For a while, Linnet was gamely trying to follow both conversations, but after responding to Isa about bread and Yves about sleeping arrangements, she's given up. Now, she's just trying not to trip over anyone else's feet as her eyes remain glued to the tower.
Orrey feels rather comfortable here. In sync with the flows of Time, and the divine nature of the magic surrounding them.
"Certainly you need very good bread for an optimal sandwich," Yves concludes firmly, "which only goes to prove my point. Linnet can back me up on this one. Right, Linnet? You know cooking."
"You do, but honestly, the optimum loaf of bread would be best enjoyed with fewer distractions than fill your typical sandwich. Speaking of distractions, Yves, watch your pockets."
"What would you even put in a cinnamon roll to make a sandwich?" Bast finally tears his eyes away from the towering clock.
"Peanut butter and jam, I suppose? Now I'm really confused. Was I supposed to bring sandwiches?"
Before separating, Chmurka gave the officers what she knew of Mechon, which was little. Visitors tend not to stick around, as they only are there for as long as they need to be, never shorter, never longer. "Anyone who lives there is weird," she said from her position in the Starfall's ventilation system. "Be careful."
"A small galley wouldn't be out of place, as a long term goal..." Isa muses.
Orrey pulls out his watch and checks it against the clocktower. It is perfectly synced.
"...man, do they never just stop and appreciate this place?" Linnet asks, but quietly, after dodging her fourth hurrying pedestrian in the last minute.
The Temple sees many passersthrough, and there are multiple taverns. Interestingly, the taverns are often full of people seeking out the next course of their lives, believing that they will find adventure and purpose if they are in the right place (Mechon) at the right time (????).
"Every hour on the hour?" Orrey asks idly.
"What about my pockets?" Yves asks, casting an eye about warily for pickpockets, or people with cheery balloons, or other such urban hazards.
Bast swallows several unvoiced opinions about peanut butter, and glances over at Orrey fiddling with his watch.
"Time to go, Cap'n?" Orrey asks.
The time on Orrey's watch -- and the Temple -- reads 11:56.
"As good as any. Let's see what we can find." With one more frowning glance up at the Temple, Bast sets off in its general direction.
Bast has reached the bottom of the steps when the Temple rings twelve.
This brings about a set of changes in Mechon. First, the tone of the clock echoes through the ground and up through your bones, ringing into your jaw, thundering into your chest. Second, chatter immediately starts up through the city, voices ringing out where before there were none. Doors open, kiosks are operated where before they were merely occupied, and commerce is activated.
Sleepy and serene one second, open for business in literally the next.
Isa looks around. "Huh."
"This is not a place that believes in sleeping in," Yves says darkly.
"...th'ell?" Bast looks back at the suddenly noisy streets, tension radiating from his posture, rubbing his chest as the internal echoes of the clock die down.
"...that's honestly disturbing." Linnet moves a step closer to Yves and Orrey and, for once, doesn't even try to wander off and browse the shops.
Orrey is staring at Bast suspiciously.
"Shopping hour," Isa surmises. "Efficient."
"There's efficient and then there's..." Linnet gestures irritably, struggling for a word that's not "clockwork," because that feels like a slur here. "So in sync it's kind of creepy?"
"Orderly," Isa says. Is she...smiling?
Orrey watches Bast carefully, eyes following his every movement. "Bast, are you feeling alright? Everything seem...normal?" Orrey asks.
"Must get a lot of tourists from Cardia." Bast glances over the suddenly livelier-looking Temple taverns, then at Orrey. "Apart from finding a new way to get my teeth rattled?"
"You're freezing in time repeatedly." Orrey says quickly and quietly, eyes darting around to be sure no one is in range to hear besides the Starfallen.
"But if you feel fine, I guess there's nothing to be done about it." Orrey says.
"...is that the singular or plural you?" Yves asks.
"Just Bast." Orrey clarifies.
"Seems strange," Isa notes.
Bast starts to reply but then throws up a hand in a semi-concealed signal for a pause and sets off toward a side street, his steps light and quiet.  Orrey watches him go, trying to catch another time skip glitch.
Even Linnet noticed that one, though she's still trying to process "freezing in time repeatedly," as none of what Bast was doing looked like dancing. "...do we follow him, or do we stay here?"
Orrey pulls out his watch to time the occurrences.
Isa shakes her head. "He's being sneaky. We're...not that. Wait."
"I don't know how to interpret that hand gesture," Yves says. "It's either 'stop doing what you were doing and do this' or just 'stop right there'--oh, good, Isa knows these things."
Linnet nods and resumes her cover of Wonderstruck Tourist. It's not hard. (although her neck is beginning to get stiff.)
The voice Bast heard is clearer as he nears the corner.
Bast's path down the side street takes him closer to the places where the undesirables would go, the people who are looking for their calling, the right time while hoping this is the right place. The words get easier to make out, the closer he gets.
"...chance of a lifetime, riches beyond your wildest imaginations, and I'm sure you've had the chance to imagine a great many of those. Imagine it! The Machine City! The discovery of a generation! Ancient secrets of a time long past, waiting to be restored to the current day!"
It's just around the corner now.
Bast frowns, a certain day on a certain train coming back unbidden, before looking around and matching the pace and the slightly driven look of the crowd as he turns the corner to see what he can see.
He stands on a soapbox, the classic pedestal for haranguing the multitudes. He cajoles and convinces, he inspires and ingratiates, a man who left one crew behind apparently in search for another.
Aurin, the reason Bast left the Triad in the first place, runs a hand through his scruffy blonde hair and grins. "Now, how many of you will be joining me, eh?"
"...motherf..." Bast hisses under his breath, forgetting to move with the flow of people through the alley. Well, then. He steps back to a wall, out of the main thoroughfare, cups his hands and yells: "I heard your grandmother went looking for it and only came back with your curse of a father for her trouble! What makes you think you'll do better?"
That is certainly audible as Bast's voice, back in the main drag.
"That sounds like trouble." Orrey says.
"That sounds like Bast," Isa agrees.
Linnet snaps out of a soulful quiet reverie (in conversation with Yves) about how wonderful it would be to explore the main tower when she can fly again, and plants her feet firmly on the ground. "Right. All in favor of either rescuing our captain or at least watching?"
"Close enough for support, far enough to stay out of his way?" Orrey asks, starting to move that way.
"We should at least be close enough to back his play," Isa says, and follows Orrey.
Aurin snaps his head to find the source of the voice, and breaks into a huge grin. "Because I know a master locksmith when I see one! With a safecracker as wise as you aboard, we'll find ourselves rich in no time!" There was something else that crossed his face before the grin, though. Something haunted.
"Out of range of whatever grenade he throws this time, anyway. C'mon, Yves, let's move." Linnet breaks into a jog, tugging the distracted viera along behind her.
"Doesn't take a master to unlock your mother's girdle! Stop embarrassing yourself already and come show me where the good drinks are around here!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm sure our captain only does wise things," Yves says, jogging along with Linnet.
"...we are talking about the same moogle, right?"
"I mean, sometimes I haven't been entirely clear of the wisdom," Yves says, "but that's me and life and wisdom in general, so I sort of thought... uh... anyway."
He shakes his head. "Fine, fine. Top Of The Hour, everyone! 6:30 tomorrow morning! You know what awaits!" Aurin hops down off the soapbox and approaches Bast.
Isa moves through the crowd to a place where Bast can spot her, but ideally Aurin does not. She gives her captain the most subtle of nods.
"He's shouty and standing on an actual soapbox and starting whatever party tomorrow at the crack of dawn? I haven't even met this guy yet and I dislike him immensely." Linnet slows to a halt a bit further back in the crowd, apologizing to several people whose knees get whacked with her braid.
Orrey is watching Bast and timing things on his watch again.
"Does no one in this city believe in sleeping in?" Yves asks.
Bast eyes Aurin as he approaches, noting Isa's presence behind him. "Didn't feel like putting down roots, huh. Come on, let me introduce you to the crew. And do keep a lid on your bullshit stories-" the quick hand signal they'd come up with for the Undersiders "-for a change, would you? At least until we're properly drunk?"
Aurin laughs it off. "I can only stay for a few minutes, but I can show you around," he says casually, looking down at the moogle with real affection in his eyes. His hand flashes back a signal of his own. "Now, what's your poison?"
"Wine and a side of not getting stabbed in the back or my pockets cut?"
"Just like old times." He claps Bast on the back. "You got a crew? This that same group of kids you adopted in Saron?" He hasn't seen any of the others yet; all of his attention is on Bast.
"More or less. You got one of your own here?"
Isa closes to sucker punch range.
Linnet shoots Yves a baffled look - more or less?
"Not permanent. There's a place here off the coast -- I mean, off the eastern coast, bit of a hike -- that I'm checking out, but really, it's nothing you'd be interested in," Aurin says. His hand moves in the same pattern again, twice.
Orrey counts softly, muttering just loudly enough for Yves and Linnet to hear him"...eleven, twelve...and thirteen. Every time, thirteen. Weird."
"You're going to have to explain that later when we're out of earshot," Linnet whispers back.
"Oooh, aren't we mysterious. Should I show up for your expedition tomorrow, then, and see what you've been up to?"
Yves gives Linnet the baffled shrug of "Politics, who knows?"
"No," Aurin says, shaking his head vehemently. There is a quaver in his voice. "No, Bast. Don't."
"Twelve normal breaths, then Bast freezes for the thirteenth...then rapidly blinks forward to where he should be." Orrey shakes his head. "Either of you seeing that?"
Bast shrugs lightly. "Still owe me a good place to drink, then. If you're not in too much of a rush."
Linnet stares at Bast, then at Orrey, then at Bast, then back at Orrey. "Nope. Not sure which of you's hallucinating."
Aurin's eyes dart from side to side. "There's, uh, a place about six blocks east of here, in the five o'clock, called Tellah's. I can meet you there at 1:11?"
"I'll be there." Bast nods, not taking his eyes off the crowd.
"Good. See you then, Bast," Aurin says, and then starts down the street by himself, away from the Temple.
Yves leans over to Linnet and murmurs, "Is it just me, or is our captain scariest when he's acting really pleasant?"
"Definitely not just you."
Orrey walks up to Bast and Isa. "Anything we need to know about that?"
"By which we mean, hi, boss, nice to see you." Linnet untangles herself and glances around Aurin's speaker's platform for any telltale signs of just what the hell he's up to tomorrow morning.
Isa watches Aurin as he leaves the crowd, but listens for Bast's answer.
"Old friend, has a knack for digging up the worst trouble around. And it sounds like there's more around here than even he's used to." Bast grimaces. "Can't tell what sort."
"So is it old friend drinking, or trouble drinking?" Isa inquires calmly.
Linnet finds a few... pamphlets would be too polite. Little bits of paper with The Edge of the World at the top, with copy like Mysterious Ruins Displaced In Time! Unspeakable Riches! Answers To Life's Questions! Fame! Fortune!
"Just me? I'd be looking for the first train out of town. All of us...well. Might stand a bit of drinking with an old friend and seeing what happens."
Isa nods. "Are we at the table, or in the crowd?"
"And do we actually drink, or just sip tea?" Yves asks, in the spirit of practicality, and perhaps wanting a beer if that's still an option.
"Crowd or another table. Best not to expose everyone from the start," Bast says. Bast shakes his head. "Orrey? You were saying something earlier?"
"About your skips through time?" Orrey asks.
"...my what now." Bast looks at Orrey like he's lost his mind.
"I'm the only one seeing it. I haven't been sampling any of Yves's special concoctions." Orrey says. "Twelve breaths everything is normal. On the thirteenth, you freeze...then jump forward to where you should be in time." Orrey says and shrugs. "No idea what that means."
"Well, that's news to me." He looks over the rest of the party questioningly.
Yves shrugs. "I can't see it, but if I want to look at something very closely, or measure its timing, I prefer more instruments."
"Orrey, are you sure you're feeling all right?" Linnet frowns. "Bast, I'm sorry, I've been trying, but I notice bugger-all out of the ordinary. You know I'm kind of a terrible scout. Can we maybe have this conversation somewhere a little less smack-in-the-middle-of-the-street-in-a-foreign city? If one of you's going to go nuts or vanish in time or whatever, I'd like to have a little more space to think."
"It's something to do with Time Magic, I imagine." Orrey says.
"Ah. So you're going nuts in a way I can't fix." The White Mage looks even less happy.
"Any idea what this might be? Something about you, or me?" Bast asks.
"No idea. Though twelve and thirteen are significant numbers." Orrey says. "That tower had thirteen levels instead of twelve."
"There's a thirteenth second, and only you see it," Isa says with iron-hard certainty.
"I wasn't the one hanging out on the thirteenth floor." Bast shrugs slightly. "If it's not an immediate problem, keep an eye out and see if you spot something like that anywhere else. Maybe it's some sort of local weirdness."
"I'll let you know if I notice anything change about it." Orrey nods in agreement.
The party has reached Tellah's just as the city vibrates itself into 1 PM.
No wild changes turn Mechon into a festival or anything like that.
Yves watches with some suspicion for sudden changes between lunch being served, or not being served, or what not.
Tellah's is a bar and restaurant combo run by an old man in a purple cloak and a beard that reaches the middle of his chest. He is reading a book as you all enter, and shows very little interest in doing anything else. He takes orders more as suggestions, and when Orrey sneaks a peek at the book, he sees that it's just full of weird runes, not words.
A block or two before Tellah's, Isa directs Linnet and Yves to drift away from the group and enter together. She pulls Orrey away to do the same a few yards later. Bast is left to arrive alone.
Bast stops in his tracks a few steps away from Tellah's, staring into the spaces above the city - then slowly shakes his head and makes his way inside, ordering a glass of wine and taking a chair with its back to the wall.
Linnet and Yves are ensconced at a cozy little table, Linnet laughing helplessly and nearly knocking over her wine at some point of Yves' grand story.
At 1:11 precisely, the door to Tellah's opens.
It is not Aurin.
Isa is telling Orrey, at length, her plans for the Meteor. And strongly recommending he draw pictures as she talks.
Orrey does so, with enthusiasm.
He is human, roughly Isa's height, dressed in a flowing sea-green cloak, tied off with a silk yellow sash. His beard is thick and curly, with six beads woven into it, red, black, red, white, red, brown.
He wears a lot of jewelry around his neck and on his wrists, though nothing more prominent than the hooked hoop earring in his left ear.
He scans the room, and stops on Bast. "You would be his friend, then," he says, his voice rich and deep. "You know Aurin."
Bast tilts his glass toward the stranger ever-so-slightly. "I'm expecting Aurin. I don't think we've met."
Yves is still working on refining his sandwich metaphor. Either he's not paying any attention to Bast's table, or he's faking it well.
"We have not. Mutual friend." He steps closer, but stops, out of respect or perhaps apprehension. "I am here about Aurin. May I join you?"
Bast gestures at the three empty chairs at his table. "Take your pick."
He takes the middle seat. "My name is Azdar Chid. I work... that's not quite correct. I work with Aurin, but we are not coworkers, precisely. We have similar goals, though mine have taken a back seat to his."
Azdar rests his hands on the table in front of him, his left hand making a fist, his right hand holding it. "Aurin is gravely ill, Bast."
"Would that be why he couldn't join me here?" Bast inquires blandly.
"Yes. A flare." He takes a breath. "It is why we are searching the Edge of the World, for a cure."
"I do appreciate you taking an interest in his well-being. Or do you work for him, in this?" Bast takes a sip of his wine. "What did he pick up since I saw him last, anyway?"
"I am searching the Edge of the World for answers relating to the time of the Alternan Empire," he says. "There are signs of a city once there -- more than signs, in fact," he says, some wonder creeping around the edges of his voice. "There are places there where you can step inside the city that was once there, and see it as it was, Bast." He leans forward, his elbows on the table. "You can see the buildings that once were, breathe the air that once was, and just tantalizingly out of reach, see the books that once were. It was a library, I believe. The places where the two meet, they do not include those rooms, though I hope there is a way to move those... pockets, those gaps, those doors. Inside those doors, Aurin's condition stabilizes. The degradation stops. There is an answer there, if only we can find it. If only we can survive the risks," he adds ruefully. "The Edge of the World is dangerous. Whatever once was there has a vested interest in keeping others out, it would seem... and the machines that once ran that city are still dangerous."
"So where is he staying these days? I hadn't realized this was so serious." Bast looks quite concerned. "I'd like to catch up a bit."
"We are staying at the Top of The Hour tonight, before returning tomorrow. I can take you to him, if you want."
Orrey says to Isa quietly, "He's our ticket in to the MC, isn't he? Nice coincidence that Cap happens to know a guy who's been exploring it."
"That would be good. Returning?"
Isa looks thoughtful. "Maybe. Unless someone knew we were coming."
"And is setting us up?" Orrey nods sagely.
"To the Edge of the World," Azdar says. "Hopefully with assistance from those he was able to convince."
Isa nods. "Could be a trap."
"Either way, we're going?" Orrey asks.
"So it's you, Aurin, and...?" Bast asks.
"If it's honest, we're in the city. If it's a trap, we need to back Bast's play. So yes, either way."
"Just us," Azdar says. "I have the money, he has the ingenuity. Your friend has a drive to him that is absolutely moving."
"And prefers to leave the details to others to sort out." Bast smiles fondly. "Shall we go see him and talk over this expedition, then?" He sets his barely-touched glass of wine down on the table.
"Of course. I hope he will be able to join us in conversation, Bast, though he will be happy to know you are there for him, even if he cannot," Azdar says.
Try as she might, Linnet has not figured out a psychic communication spell, so she settles for fixing Bast with a sad "let me help" look and hoping he'll look back at her.