Session 78: Cirrial

SESSION 78
Previously, Across the Horizon...
Lenore Hikaru's performance in Cardia was the event of the year, as all knew it would be. Unfortunately for our brave adventurers, it had competition for their attention.
The news of Cardia's mobilization for war shook the party, though everyone showed it differently. Some, like Isa, showed it by not showing it at all, which made sense to those who knew her, or most any Cardian.
The King lacking the support of the Azure Dragoon, now, that was news that would cause a Cardian to blink. Twice, even.
Fortunately, the Cardian War of Border Expansion would be on another day, leaving our adventurers to take in the end of the performance, engage in just the right amount of banter with locals about Falcom One's jazz-infused opening act, and then drink through the city on the way back to the aerodrome.
Upon returning to the sky and stopping to collect the news of the world, our brave adventurers received word from the Arbiters of Truth that there was news to share in person, and could they please come to the Triad at their earliest convenience.
After consulting with the Captain, who consulted with the spymaster, who determined there were no threats of violence expected at the docks, the Starfall traveled to the Triad for this meeting, plus a bevy of errands for a crew newly inspired to acts of musical theatre.
We join our brave adventurers in the crossroads of commerce itself...
**
...or at least a tavern somewhat near the center.
World's First is a two-story eatery covered in items of remarkable distinction -- the world's first (blank) -- but dubious cultural value.
Certainly, someone would be interested in the world's first papier-mache wheelbarrow, but would that person actually have any disposable income?
Regardless, there it is, right by the stairs leading up to the second story, which appears to specialize in fabrics and regret. The Arbiters themselves have yet to arrive, giving the officers of the Starfall a moment to themselves.
Isa settles into her chair beneath the World's First Automatic Bootlacer, looking into her drink. She's been quieter than normal, which is like saying the ocean is somewhat wetter today.
Bast edges around a skull that looks much more likely to be the last of something than whatever the nameplate claims it to be, and claims a seat by the wall.
Linnet's head might as well be on a ball joint, with the extent to which she's swiveling it around and staring at all the weird stuff on the walls.
The first round of drinks is on the table, along with napkins and placemats with Interesting Facts about various phenomena throughout the restaurant. None of them are actually interesting, which might be why the drinks are so large.
"I realize there had to be a first pair of elbow-length fingerless gloves at some point," Yves mutters, "but is that really worth commemorating?" He shakes his head, ear piercings jingling faintly.
Orrey doodles on the placemats a bit as he sips his tea.
In trying to read the sign on a taxidermied...something hanging off the ceiling, Linnet has twisted so far around that the bottom four inches of her braid are in her glass. She hasn't noticed.
"It's not about worthwhile. Just something that people will remember. Some do it better than others." Bast takes a sip of his drink, and looks almost pensive.
"Okay, that's got to be bollocks, I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as a jackalopard. Is there?"
"Sometimes 'first' means 'only'," Isa notes.
Yves stares at beady eyes and dubious fabrics. "...what I can't understand is how this place stays in business. Why would anyone send us here? Is this a prank? Is this money laundering? Do the items on the wall come alive at the stroke of midnight and roam the streets, casting spells of mystical persuasion on sleeping citizens to convince them to eat here again?"
"Folks and Jokes, Bunnies and Funnies, Artists and Heartless, Cardians And Cardigans, High Spots and Hand Grenades, my absolute favorite people in this entire world!" booms an uncomfortably loud and regrettably familiar voice.
"You don't have enough time to read everything the first time, so you come back either to catch up on the bits you missed or to go 'hey, you'll never believe this weird thing I saw' and drag your friends along. It's like a museum that serves very large drinks and appetizers with too much cheese." Even the curtains are supposed to be the World's First example of particular fabric techniques, though Linnet guesses that those techniques might as well be 'painting with your eyes closed on a moving ship.'
"Hey, none of them are trying to club you over the head and go through your pockets. Puts it ahead of half the local establishments." Seen through his glass, Bast's half-smile looks even more crooked - then vanishes at the raucous greeting.
Wedge works in as his namesake, shouldering his way in between Yves and Orrey (which takes some doing, with his width), setting down a titanic banana split on the table. "How is everyone on this fine day?" he exclaims. Behind him, Biggs spins a chair around and straddles it, close enough to Isa to commiserate, not close enough to be an immediate problem.
Orrey raises an eyebrow at the loudness of the voice in his ear.
Yves opens and shuts his mouth a few times, then settles on, "We're here. Definitely. In this place. Which apparently exists. In this state."
"Here." Bast taps the table to illustrate the point. "What's the occasion?"
Jessie rolls her eyes as she sips one beer, holding a second one as a backup. "He's been off his rocker all day waiting to see you all. Don't know why you're his favorite, but eh. Business is business, and you've all been the business lately."
"We've certainly been busy, at least." Linnet unspindles herself and only now notices that her stein of something fruity and beer-adjacent is extra-full. Chagrined, she pulls out the end of her braid and tries to dry it off on her pants without attracting attention.
"Main reason you're here now, though," Jessie says, in between hefty gulps, "is that someone's askin' after you. Specifically you." That last bit is to Linnet.
Linnet raises an eyebrow. "...what flavor of someone are we talking?"
"Do they seem... corporate?" Yves asks darkly.
Jessie purses her lips. "I'd say she's mostly like a... yeah, like a fucking accountant. Mousy little thing. Seems scared half to death, and not just 'cause of Hips Akimbo over there." Wedge doesn't notice, engrossed in his dessert.
"Oh. Well, that sounds harmless enough." (Linnet doesn't think she knows any accountants.) "What was she asking?"
"If there was a way she could find you." Having drained the first mug, onto the second one. "After figuring out who she was talking about, I said that maybe I could get a word out to you, for a fee, 'course. She was 200 gil short, but Biggs chocoboed up the difference because he's gone bleedin' soft, but hey, gil's gil and it's even better gil when it's my gil."
"Is she local? I mean, did she follow you here?"
"Now, I know how you feel about heading into a dangerous situation without preparation, on account of audits or whatever, so I didn't tell her you were coming today or anything. She's in town, I can go get her. Not here to spring anything on you." She thinks. "She wouldn't tell me her name or anything, but that's normal 'round here."
Linnet turns to the rest of the table. "Simple enough. Or I can go meet her, if everyone else has something to do. Outside of this place, I mean."
"Definitely not local," Biggs says. "We helped her get set up at a flophouse that's not going to leave her destitute, she's got no idea where she is. Whatever's got her out here, must be important."
"Sounds like we didn't cross half the Dicelan because an old classmate wanted to catch up, at least," Bast concludes. "Where's she at?"
"Oh dear. Well, no sense keeping her waiting. Should we go to her or meet here?" asks Linnet.
"Pretty sure she's just fishing," Jessie says with a shrug. "She's not got much better to do."
"Here's good." Bast takes another sip of his drink.
"I argue with 'good', given that--oh. You mean to meet." Yves hunches over his drink, eyeing something that eyes him back.
"Biggs, track the kid down and bring her here." Jessie glares at her mug after he gets up, and then calls after him. "And order me a beer downstairs!" To the group, she says, "Anything else before we fuck outta here?"
Isa doesn't bother with preamble, "Where was the last sighting of the Azure Dragoon?"
Yves' head pops up. "Yes! Why did you pick this place to meet? ...I mean, Isa's question is more important. Right."
"Anything new since our last visit? Rebecca still making waves?" asks the captain.
"Let me check," she says, pulling a notebook out of her vest. As she flips through the pages, she adds, "Because it's fucking terrible and I love it."
"Yves, for once you're the least remarkable thing in this room." Linnet hugs him.
"Do we need a sign that says first ever Thunderbun?" Orrey asks.
"Only if he's planning to work here." Bast is unamused.
Yves narrows his eyes at Jessie. And so the truth has been revealed.
"Leaders have been quiet for a bit," Jessie says without looking up. Without a pencil to chew on, she just sticks a strand of her hair into her mouth. "Ah, here -- okay. Azure Dragoon spotted in Koehnta a week ago. Rumor of Mechon the day before and after, unconfirmed. Report of Saron two days ago, but Azure doesn't mean green. Not the fucking Viridescent Dragoon."
"...there's an entire platoon of fancy-colored dragoons?" Linnet is awestruck.
"No," Isa says curtly. "Any pattern to their movement?" she asks Jessie.
"Nothing I've seen, but for a grand I'll get you the last two months of moves and send 'em to your ship," she says. "You can run red lines between 'em on your own."
Isa waves a hand as if she hasn't even registered the amount. "Do it," she...requests? Confirms? It's probably not an order.
Jessie gives Bast a quick one-of-you's-fucking-paying-me-first eyebrow.
Bast responds with a small nod. "We'll get it sorted before we leave."
"Good." She slams her notebook shut, then smiles broadly. "Excellent doing business with you, try not to die, enjoy your weird friend. Cheers, mates." Jessie leaves. Wedge continues happily eating his banana split.
Linnet waves cheerfully, then gives the rest of the table an innocent shrug. "I don't know any accountants, so I'm not sure offhand who this is, but she sure doesn't sound like she's trying to murder us. So let's hear her out."
"You don't owe anyone astronomical sums of money, by any chance?" asks Bast.
"Not that I know of," replies Linnet without thinking. "Never had it to spend, never got into the habit."
"Who ever really knows whether or not they might owe astronomical sums of money to unknown parties?" Yves asks, not quite hypothetically.
Bast tilts his head to the side, looking at Yves with some concern.
"Debt doesn't spontaneously pop into existence, Yves." Orrey says, hesitating a bit before doing do.
"Let he who has never ended up in a high stakes dice game while blackout drunk cast the first--oh, never mind. I suppose most people get that out of the way in college."
Isa nods in agreement. "This is why we wouldn't wager cash."
"Or maybe it does." Orrey sighs.
"...let's let me do the talking," Linnet declares into her glass.
Wedge finishes up, daintily wipes his mouth, and then heads out. Twenty minutes later, after food has been delivered and plates are starting to empty out...
"You can't just pile on cheese and expect it to be a dish," Isa complains. "There's an art to it."
"Excuse me," comes a quiet voice by Linnet's elbow. "You're Linnet Leveche, right?"
"Exactly, it's like when you try to caramelize a plantain but you just--" Yves hushes for the sudden new voice.
The speaker is a wind sylph with very pale green skin, short pink hair constantly rustling in her wind, rimless glasses on a slightly crooked nose, and four earrings in her left ear and none in her right. She’s wearing a cropped blue jacket, a bright orange top, black jeans, and ankle boots festooned with flowers and zippers both. A silver necklace around her neck glistens with so many rings it’s clear half of her life she can’t dress with any sort of visual interest, and she has dedicated the rest of her waking hours to making up for that.
"Last time I checked, anyway." Linnet scoots over to make room at the table. "Pull up a chair and fill us in?"
She does just that, bringing a chair over and sitting down between Linnet and Isa. "I'm so glad to finally get a chance to meet you and talk to you. I was afraid it would take longer."
"Jessie's not very reassuring, but she knows her way around. So, what's your name, and what blew you over my way?" Linnet's tone is all stranger-at-the-pub friendliness.
She seems very flustered, and then the reason why makes perfect sense. "Serj told me to contact you," she says. "My name is Cirri Idraen."
For a brief moment, Linnet's friendly mask slips and she looks like someone slapped her over the head with a skillet. Then she recovers, but not smoothly. "Welcome, Cirri, and may I say what a pleasure it is to meet you?" "...particularly away from the factory?"
Bast sets his drink down and takes a closer look at the newcomer.
Yves is confused for an instant. And then the name clicks.
Her shoulders sag, a mixture of relief and anguish pouring through her. "You were there. You understand. You at least saw it."
"What I thought I saw was your remains, so I'm not going to claim I understand, but...yes, I was there." "...please." Linnet fills a small plate of assorted appetizers, pours a glass of beer from the pitcher on the table, and sets them before the newcomer. "Eat, settle in, and tell me everything."
"I'm sorry. What did you say your name was, again?"
"Cirri Idraen," Cirri says to Bast. "I used to work at the Viesen-Croyle factory, before the accident." She clasps her hands together. "What did you see there first? I have to know, please. Serj didn't go inside until after you did. No one saw inside the factory but you."
"Oh, hell." Linnet takes a deep breath. "Um...we saw a couple of totally wrecked rooms, a mutated test subject that kinda beat the tar out of us, a basement full of lab couerls, your scarf and a smear of blood on the wall that looked pretty conclusive...I thought I saw your ghost in the room. I...I'm still having some trouble processing that you're here."
Yves waves a hand for the nearest passing waiter. "We're going to need some more drinks," he says quietly to whoever responds to that hail. "Stiff ones. Maybe just bring, like, a bottle of gin for the table, and many tiny cups? Thanks."
"I'm asking to join your crew," Cirri says, not looking up from the table. "I'll tell you why, but that's the main reason why I'm here. I'm here at all because you're here, I think, but I don't understand why." She takes a deep, shuddery breath. "I'm pretty sure I died."
Linnet wraps a comforting arm around Cirri's shoulders and gives the rest of the table a shut up and listen look.
Bast opens his mouth, then carefully closes it in the face of Linnet's glare.
Isa is unreadable.
Yves is waiting desperately for that bottle of gin to arrive.
"Legally I'm dead. That's why I want to join your crew. I don't have my old job. I'm legally dead. Cirri Idraen, 26, survived by no one. I can't work. I can barely travel. My apartment's done. They closed out my lease. I died. I was dead for... two weeks? Three? I don't know. I died the day of the experiment and I woke up five days ago in the middle of the night of the factory and I screamed and I cried and I ran, and then I tried to go home and I did most of those same things again."
"Blustering hellstorms." Linnet looks at the rest of the crew. "Well, first things first, Captain, permission to adopt a new crew member?"
Bast casts an appraising look across the table. "What can you do?"
(Isa leans towards Linnet and says, very low, "five days ago I threw you off the deck of Meteor.")
("Stop saying it like it was all your idea," Linnet whispers back. "I threw me off the deck.")
"Run numbers?" she says meekly. "I'm a technician. I can follow orders. I'm a fast learner. I'm ambitious, but not to the point that I want your job. I care about my work. I'm bad at job interviews."
(Isa shrugs. "We threw you off the ship.")
"...and after that, Cirri, I owe you an explanation."
"Ship's mostly crewed by actors right now." Bast shrugs. "We'll take you."
Orrey's eyes have been wide throughout the whole of Cirri's story, and he's switched from doodling on the placemats to drawing in his notebook a swirl of images including Cirri, some hellish claws, an undead Tonberry that everyone at the table should be able to recognize, and an ominous version of Turon's symbol tying it all together.
"Do, uh, have you... Like, you haven't heard of anyone else coming back to life after being dead, since you got, uh, alive again, have you?" Yves asks, extremely casually.
Linnet's shoulders sag in relief, and the smile she gives Bast betrays a hint of tears. "Thank you. And Yves, hold on a sec." Then, she fishes in her jeans pocket and removes...a small, slightly crumpled bag sewn out of a scrap of ivory lace. She hands it to Cirri. "I think this is yours."
Cirri opens the bag and, with wide eyes, pulls out the crystal. "Where did you find this?!" she exclaims.
"Serj gave it to me. Thought it must've been mine." "Buffeted the hell out of me for the past week and change, but my theories started with 'this is actually Cirri's' and ended with 'I know a lot less about being a sylph than I would like to know.'"
She holds it in both of her hands, a light shining strongly from the crystal, a light that also shimmers just beneath her skin. "I -- I can barely believe it," she says, choking back a tidal wave of emotions.
"...I was a tiny bit reckless with it, but I'm not sure if I should apologize, as that may have been what brought you back." Linnet looks relieved and sad and sheepish all at once. "Five days ago, I kinda...jumped into the Howling Eye."
She shakes her head uncomprehendingly, and not in the fun way. "I don't know what that is." "Giant hurricane of wind aether." "Oh."
Bast wiggles a horizontal hand back and forth. "Into might be stretching it a bit. You'd probably land on the cannon, jumping into."
"Regardless of the semantics," Linnet glares briefly at the captain and continues, "I plunged your crystal into the densest reservoir of aether we could find, and it may have responded. I had absolutely no idea it would respond quite like that, though."
Yves pours tiny glasses of gin all around, having finally impressed upon a staff member that, no, he doesn't want a giant mixed drink, this is medicinal gin and an emergency requirement for the table right now. Yes, the gin is going into brightly colored novelty shot glasses. No, it shouldn't change the taste. Probably.
Linnet removes the ankle bracelet that holds her actual crystal and lays it on the table in front of Cirri. "I was trying to recharge mine."
"Your crystal drained? Oh, no. I don't think you can recharge it like that," she says thoughtfully.
Linnet restrains herself from jumping on that dangling thought. "...would you rather talk about that, or about the factory shitshow, or about none of the above and just eat some dinner?"
"Got something out of it, anyway. Linnet, you might want to etartsnomed at some point," Bast suggests.
"What happened that drained your crystal?" Cirri asks. "Where were you when that happened?"
"The floor of the factory," Linnet replies, not looking at Cirri.
"Captain?" Isa asks.
"Have you gone back?" Cirri asks. "When you fixed my crystal, that's where I was -- where it went wrong. I wonder if something changed there for you?"
"Well, not here, obviously." Bast raises an eyebrow at Isa.
"I haven't been back on the floor, no. They were a little busy trying to clean everything up from the last time we were down there." Linnet shrugs awkwardly. "But...we fought one of the test subjects, she almost killed me, and when I could think straight again, I realized there was nothing left of my winds."
"If the factory's where it happened, maybe there's some clue there as to what actually happened," Cirri presses. "Other than that... Saine has everything, including more knowledge on sylphs than anywhere else in the world. Something there surely could help you, if you can get in." She sniffs. "I applied to every academy there, but didn't get accepted."
"Want to come with us when we do go? I don't think I'll have a problem getting in," replies Linnet with a shrug.
Bast asks, "What did happen in ereht? If you remember."
"...and only if you want to talk about it. If you'd prefer, we can save that until we're not in public," Linnet reassures her new friend.
"I'll tell you on the way," Cirri says.
Orrey looks at Bast. "Where is Ereht? I don't think I've ever heard of that before."
Linnet nods. "Let's leave it be, then. The ship's crew are very, very nice, if not all that experienced, and you might recognize our mascot."
Bast blinks at Orrey. "I haven't either. Where's that from?"
"You just said that." Orrey eyes his friend. "Feeling ok?"
"Yeah, I'm enif. What are you talking about?"
"I think Saine is a great idea," Yves says, and downs his shot of gin. "Who needs a refill?"
Isa pushes her glass towards Yves, but she's watching Bast.
"...Isa, which of us is too knurd to follow this conversation?" Bast returns Isa's look, gesturing between himself and Orrey with what looks like a perfectly steady hand.
Orrey glances down at his still full shotglass next to his cup of tea and then back up at Isa.
"I think that might be you, Captain." Isa says. "Whatever knurd is."
Yves refills Isa's shot glass, refills his own, downs his, and then recaps the bottle. "We paid for the gin, we get to keep the gin."
Orrey passes his to Yves.
"Let's go, then. I'm pretty sure the jackalopard on the ceiling is staring at me." Linnet pushes in her chair and pats her hair dry one last time.
That doesn't seem to be the answer Bast was expecting. His nostrils flare briefly, and it takes him a moment and a long breath to reply with a "Alright. Let's continue this back at the pihs." He gets up, leaving his drink behind, and heads to the door.
A short time later... It's a humid day at the Triad, which isn't too unusual. The docks get it worse than anywhere else, what with all of the ships both sea and sky, and the fact that everyone seems to paint them white, reflecting the sun back onto the pathways until everyone's having a bad time. The Starfall cuts a distinctive silhouette up ahead as the party approaches, and then the party is approached.
Orrey checks his watch.
"Bast," someone calls out. A Black human woman, sporting a fauxhawk with lime-green braiding up the sides. Somewhat familiar, though it's taking a moment. "Captain of the Starfall, bounty hunter?" She looks over the group, and nods to herself, sails rippling in the wind behind her. "Yeah. Definitely. Listen, I'm going to need your weapons or two hundred thousand gil, and really, don't make this complicated for yourselves."
Yves takes a swig from the bottle of gin he's carrying, and says, "Huh."
Bast pulls up short and, for lack of a belt for a proper Negotiating Pose, sticks them in his pockets. "That's higher than your average mugging goes around here. Difficult times?"
"Penalty for claimjumping," she says in a matter-of-fact fashion. "You went after something that wasn't yours. You wanted to make a name for yourself. Congratulations, you did. We know who you are now. There are penalties. Are you paying, or are we taking?"
Isa looks profoundly unamused, but does not explode into violence as long as Bast is speaking.
Orrey looks around to see who the "we" is.
Linnet steps protectively in front of Cirri, but she stows the combat pose in favor of crossed arms and one unimpressed raised eyebrow.
"Woh about an introduction to start with? I don't recall owing anything to a random musician," Bast replies.
"I owe eighty gil to a violinist, but I wouldn't call him random," Yves says helpfully.
"...random musician?" Linnet pauses to think.
"Maybe a little quirky at times, but only when he was high, and who isn't a little quirky then?" Yves rambles nervously.
Finally, it dawns on Linnet. "You know, I thought it was weird to pair Hikaru with a jazz group, but what is the pianist from Falcom One doing mugging a random group of audience members?"
She looks between the group, momentarily flummoxed. "You're all as weird as we are," she mutters.
"At least." Linnet's still crossing her arms. "Did Hikaru's manager stiff you on your fee, or something?"
"I'm not weird," Yves says indignantly, "I'm slightly drunk. Or, uh, kuh-nerd? The captain was imprecise on that point."
"It's a cover. I mean, we also do covers, it's not all original material, but -- I'm not explaining this to you. This is a stupid conversation. This is a stupid conversation and we're not having it any more." She snaps her fingers.
Isa sighs.
Linnet tracks the other four members of Falcom One coming out of the crowd, from around the corners of the ships, all armed, all strange, all ready and more than willing. "Take 'em down and leave them there," she calls out. "No killing!"
Orrey fires out the purple spinning clock aura from his watch towards Isa.
"Linnet, tell the random musician that I'm not--oh, never mind," Yves says, and sets the gin bottle carefully by his feet.
“Is it time to face the music?” Orrey asks.
"It's time to pay the piper," Isa responds, snapping out her spear.
"Ah well." The hand Bast pulls out of his pocket is full of grenades.
"They didn't have a piper, Isa, and we're not paying anybody two hundred thousand gil," Linnet replies over her shoulder. "Showtime!"
"Watch out for the bottle!" Yves calls, flicking blue sparks into readiness within his hands. "We paid for it already, it's still ours."