It is morning/i>61F(16C) degrees, and there are clear skies. The mist is heaviest At Constitution and Sidney/span

Teagan does have to shuffle a fair few things around, but in the end… she does get there. There is a glance from Thomas to Seraphina and she comments: “The most surprising thing, I suppose… is that we aren’t in skirts.”

Once completely dressed in the ‘attire of Anupharis’ Seraphina says to Teagan and Thomas, ensuring that the robe is closed. “I suppose that is surprising, given Thomas’ penchant for them. But when the attire is sheer, does it matter?” She scrunches her nose up at Thomas for all his pleased looks and smiles to the two women. “One day, you will be in a skirt, I mean it.” She, too, removes her phone and tucks it away to look far more like a citizen of the land, than a tourist.

Beneath the sundial, the air is still dry and warm, but there is a coolness from being sheltered from the heat Anupharis is so known for. At least it makes changing a little more bearable. The whispers echo in the space, those of people talking above, and those from whomever has left the previous patterns in the sand beneath their feet.

Seraphina looks into the mirror, and checks herself, ensuring the veil masks her features. “We’ll make our way up to the street shortly… But we need to travel as inconspicuous as possible. Last time, we were spotted immediatately and had to handle a brawl at the bar before we even started into the dessert. The guide is awaiting us, but he is very nervous considering…” Considering he nearly lost his like two… maybe three times? Lost his caravan? Who can say!

Shade or otherwise, it is still incredibly warm as compared to New Haven where temperatures haven’t even given a bare consideration to going above freezing in some days now. Teagan has to spend a moment just adjusting her breathing from the cold and humid of her coastal hometown to the dry and arid of Anupharis. “Considering…?” The redhead cannot help but prompt Seraphina with a glance her way, eyebrows arching over her own veil: blue eyes even brighter against the blues of the outfit and without her glasses.

Inside his indigo robes, Thomas nods gravely. “I am behind you, Sera,” he says to her. “I’m far weaker than I was the last time we were here, though,” he admits to her. “I am hoping soon I will be free of what the Fae left for us, but…” He glances between her and Teagan. “There’s a tavern here,” he says. “A little rough, but a kind of fun place.”

“Well,” Seraphina starts, with a little nod aside to Thomas, “The last time, Obie got hit on by a whore who ended up being an assassin, seeking to kill our advocate.” A pause, as she begins to head toward the entrace up into the city proper. “Then, his entire caravan was swallowed up by the sands, when we were attacked by a sand wyrm…” She goes on, ascending, “And then, he was nearly killed again by the sorceror who followed us into the desert, demanding our lives for stealing from him.” Its pretty matter of fact in telling, as if she doesn’t expect the same. Probably. Then the emotion comes, “It was quite harrowing to be honest. Thomas nearly died, Matias nearly died… Tessa, too.”

Thomas looks around the plaza as he follows Seraphina up. His eyes may be on the ladies’ rear ends in their cloaks, but once they hit the wide-open plaza they instead scan to all those who wander here, moving around with their purpose in the City of Brass. “I do like this city,” he opines. “Even if they may have something to say about me.” He nods to Seraphina. “It was… harrowing,” he admits to Teagan. “But I had a guardian angel.”

“Ah, I’ve heard tales of the second one then, with Tessa,” Teagan says with a bob of her head. It sets the coins on the veil to sounding and she grimaces; grip on her staff tightening. Don’t like that. “Mostly from her and her repeated claims of Thomas and Matias trying to… out-dom one another, as she liked to put it.” The redhead doesn’t seem too worried about it as she follows Seraphina’s lead. “Well… outside of Rhagost, I’ve only been in the Godrealm for…” There is a pause and she opts to leave that one be with a thinning of lips and a tip-tapping of her staff against the ground a few times. “Anyway. My track record is good so, maybe I’ll be your good-luck charm.”

Brows raise. “Out-dom each other?” Thomas wonders of Teagan. “I’ve not spent terribly much time in Rhagost,” he says. “Honestly — this is my favorite of the Godrealm’s continents,” he shares with her, before he looks back at Seraphina.

Above ground, the weather is unbearably warm, sweltering even, leaving the robes, as light as they are, an unbearable article of clothing as it traps all the warm, and wet heat in. Seraphina tells Thomas, “Just ….” She wets her lips, “Things are a little different for the both of this time. Lets try to be a little more careful.” Says the angel who enjoys taking the lead when it comes to the thrill of the find, the adventure, despite all her warnings and chastising of Thomas for similar. She chuckles softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the two of them try to out-dom one another.” She heads about a corner, a quick peek up at the rooftops, for any followers, and then down the road.

Murmuring, Thomas tells Seraphina and Teagan, “You wouldn’t be so hot if you didn’t keep those cloaks so tightly wrapped around you.” He keeps close to her. “Are we headed into the Cage?” he asks her. “Or back out to the desert, to find your Oasis?” As he follows behind her, he keeps a concerned eye on a city guard, uncomfortably close nearby.

As should be expected, people are people watching, looking for their big scam, the next pickpocket, their next swindle. Especially when it is such colorfully attired people who just miraculously showed up in the middle of the bustle.

“I always figured it was because neither of you fell for her vast charms,” Teagan says in an absent tone, already taking an edge of her robe to waft it a bit to generate some cooler air underneath. She casts a glance over to Thomas and huffs out just a little. “I’m a little concerned about sunburn,” she mumbles as she takes in their surroundings. And the people looking their way. Her bag is shifted just a bit closer to her, under her cloak as it may be at the moment. “I won’t have… full access to what I can do here, but there is plenty of sand so quicksand is always an option if we need to make a quick exit.”

“Our guide is waiting at the Cage. I suspect that he thought it may seem out of the ordinary for a man and a small caravan to be simply waiting at the gates out to the desert.” Seraphina tells Thomas. Her hand is slight, and she has slight of hand. The guard that gets to close is ‘accidentally’ bumped into and she retrieves a small token for the effort. She smiles beneath the veil at the guard. And even goes so far as to lower her gaze and dip a curtsey.

“Mmm. I do love the Cage,” Thomas says to Seraphina, before he turns to look at Teagan. “What a place to feel -alive-,” he tells her. “There’s hardly anything like in America.”

Teagan picks up what Seraphina’s putting down (as it were) and gives a small… well, she’s terribly at curtseying or anything of that sort, but the clasp on the robe can be adjusted so it falls open just enough. There is a glance over to Thomas and a slight quirk of her mouth behind the veil. “Careful talking it up too much,” she murmurs. “This isn’t my first trip outside of New Haven. Or even off-world. You don’t want it to be a disappointment.”

The guard first turns with a look of anger, “Watch where you’re going!” But, on seeing Seraphina, and her smile, and subsequent apologetic curtsey… but moreover, seeing Teagan give him a flash of the skin beneath the barely there halter she dons, he backs away and smiles too, “It is a crowded street. No harm, ladies.” With another look between the two women, the guard tarries on, walking backward in the crowd for a while, before turning and heading into a nearby building.

No harm, indeed. Thomas watches the guard go with some low concern. “We should get into the Cage,” he suggests. “Fewer guards there, at least.”

The streets grow narrower as people filter through, the streets dirty from travelers of all walks of life. The smell of sweat is heaviest here, along witih the stench of ale and the expellation of ale. The smell is unmistakeable and pungeant. Sitting on a twisting stairway, and old man sits, bright blue eyes the only thing indicating life still in him. Occasionally people walk past and drop a coin into a tin, which is then promptly taken by some ruffian. From another alley, a woman stands, dressed much in the manner that Teagan and Seraphina are, beckoning to Thomas with a soft shimmy of the coined halter she wears, and a upnod in an attempt to meet his gaze. Her eyes glow unnaturally.

There is a parting smile for the guard and Teagan hurries on. She doesn’t bother fighting with the cloak again at this juncture. It’d take too much fiddling and require removing her hand (again) from her messenger bag. She’s not about to do that, not until she trusts someone isn’t going to ‘bump into’ her. Plus, well… it is a little cooler this way, at least. There is a glance after the latest ne’er-do-well to steal from the old man’s tin and Teagan starts to reach for her key, but holds herself back at the last second to keep in stride with Seraphina. “Good to know some things stay the same no matter where one goes,” she murmurs.

There’s a pause, eyes drawn to the woman in the doorway, but then Thomas’s eyes drift away — back onto Seraphina and Teagan, watchful, and then up above. He’s looking through the alleys, perhaps, scanning to see if there is some danger. Of course: Thomas’s eyes are focused not on physical threats but on something of a sinister, more spiritual nature, a little unfocused as he takes in this world and the half-world that overlays it.

Danger lurks in any seedy little alleyway, no matter where one lives. New Haven, or Anupharis, people are people, and some are just better off than others. the trio stands out like sore thumbs here in the poorer edge of the town, and it is no wonder why the woman in the alley has targeted Thomas, in his indigo robes. “Yes, it’s sad to see. How the rich eat the poor, etcetera. Figuratively… Though literally to, I suppose.” She continues through the street, making little eye contact as she goes, pocketing the little trinket that she’d taken from the guard. Nothing, surely, that he will miss…

Surely. “Where are we going?” Thomas asks of Seraphina, hurrying close to her. “The Torn Veil, again?”

“I’ve forgotten where it is, Thomas,” Seraphina says, passing by a few shops, and peering into windows. “We’ll have to visit the less seedier side and do some shopping,” she tells Teagan.

“Oh, is that a place and not just something you aspire to do?” Teagan cannot help herself and there’s a flash of a smirk behind the veil she’s wearing. Gaze flickers to Seraphina and there’s a brief rise and fall of shoulders. “If you’d like. I’ve never been a big… shopping sort. Trying on clothes gets…” She doesn’t even need to look or gesture to explain why it’s: “…bothersome.”

“I can find it,” Thomas tells Seraphina. “I’ve been here before — more than once,” he tells her, nodding to Teagan. “It is a place!” he says to Teagan, moving to lead the trio through the narrow streets, until at last he is in front of some particularly disreputable, seedy tavern. “Here we are,” he says to the girls, pausing. “We should go inside — not linger.”

can’t help but chuckle at Teagan. “I think that the answer is ‘yes’!”

There is a gesture for Thomas to lead the way. As for magic, they are in a magic city, the scent of it is in the air, as much as the musk of the unwashed. It tingles at the nape of the neck and causes the hair of your arm to rise. Dare Seraphina suggest that this has been going smoothly? Perhaps not. One has to wonder. From one of the doors, a man and woman stumble out. From inside, there appears to be a brawl still in process. The man looks like he’s taking a few punches, and a knife to the gut. “Ah… I think that this is it.”

“So,” Thomas tells Seraphina, stepping inside the tavern, “it is.” He keeps close to both women, glancing at Teagan to make sure she is alright. “I do like this place,” he acknowledges. “It has a certain kind of Robert Howard charm, doesn’t it?” he asks them, even as he shifts perhaps to make sure he has a fine grip on his knife inside his robes. This is, after all, a place with that certain kind of charm.

If one is concerned that Teagan might be bothered or even scandalized by the bar as they pass two exiting to enter (thus adding +1 to the total population within)… she does not seem flustered in the least. She looks briefly at the two before letting her gaze shift to take in the inhabitants of the Torn Veil itself. “So,” she says, sotto-voice, keeping near enough to Seraphina and Thomas to converse without needing to raise her voice (and due to the crowds), “what now? Is it as easy as find your guy, get out of here? Or do we need to… win a brawl or games or chance as seems par for the course in Rhagost?” She is so much more familiar with pirates at this point.

Inside, it is chaos. Multiple men are in the middle of a fight. Women are clinging to one another, circling about one of their own who looks like she’s been on the other side of a fist one too many times. “I should hope we don’t have to…” But they are entering what appears to be quite the thing. Because in a town like they are in, one does not simply fight with hands and knifes. That tingle felt? Was directly from inside. There is an immediate urge to hurt people. A sole man stands in the corner, an amused smile lit on his face.

“Jesus,” Thomas says, sotto voice. Seeing the man in the corner, he asks Seraphina, “Is that our guide?” That urge rises in him, too, as he twists his hand a little.

There is a slight twitch from Teagan and she rolls her left shoulder out, right hand still on her staff… though it tightens. She’s processing through that urge, letting it pass through her and on. “Someone’s having fun,” she mumbles to herself, casting a look around and finding the man in the corner as well: for the smile that likely looks a fair sight different than most of the rest. “We may want to… get out of here as quickly as we can, before we get waylaid for too long.”

It is just like a magic user to summon their minion to a fight, right? Lucky for the trio, they narrowly dodge a messy fight, or a feast of crab legs. She nods to Teagan, ducking and weaving through the crows on swift feet, staying out of the line of site, as she approaches the man. There is a smile of recognition on her approach and then to Thomas the man says, “I hope that you don’t mind that I caused a diversion to make it easier for us to leave without suspicion…” But the smile fades when Seraphina throws a punch right into the man’s jaw!

“I think it’s time to get out of here,” Thomas tells Seraphina, his voice low. “We’ve got our guide.”

“Wrong type of sand, buddy,” Teagan quips to a crab that is evaded (and thankfully without any wardrobe accidents) before they no longer have to worry (either the minions did realize this was not the beach and poofed or got distracted properly). She follows after Seraphina, shifting to take hold of her key properly now. As a precaution. There is a slight grimace for the man who gets hit. Not entirely in sympathy…

… but not entirely without sympathy, either.

The man rubs at his jaw, likely seeing two of Seraphina afterward, “I did ask for that…” His eyes move onto Teagan, “You are not the same woman as before. I should hope you have a little more sense than her.” There were two, he doesn’t clarify. The man, still nursing his chin, leads the trio out to the street, and to the gates of the city, where beyond, cloaked by illusion, a small caravan awaits. “I did not bring the same size of caravan this time. I am still working on hiring new men. Since many of mine are still buried beyond… Perhaps I can use you, Thomas, to help me raise them.”

Outside the walls, Thomas strides out with Seraphina, Teagan, and the guide. “I am happy to help,” he tells him with some humor. “And — old friend — I can tell you the help I give you does not flag, nor tire, nor sleep,” he says. “The dead are considerably more -efficient- than the living.” He looks over at Seraphina. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

He need not clarify. He could mean either and Teagan would likely agree. Both in the lack of sense and hoping she has more. There is a release of tension once they’re out of the bar and out of the alleys surrounding it. The further she is from the violent influence, the more it bleeds off of her. These things linger. There is a look from the guide to Thomas, however, and Teagan just (figuratively) bites her tongue.

The man explains, “I have had to focus on illusion since the last you two were here, stealing faces so that I can avoid punishment for aiding and abetting. And yet, here I am. I am interested in the Oasis. Call it my newfound talent. I want to see how I can access the power, myself.” Seraphina nods to the guide, who leads them to the hidden caravan, where two camel await with only two men. He nods to Thomas, “That is my thought, yes.” Seraphina shares a look at Teagan, her own body language tense with the desires of men and woman wanting to see blood. So when Thomas asks her the benefits of dead opposed to the living, there is a /look/. She already popped one man in the mouth. What’s another?@

“What -is- the Oasis, exactly?” Thomas asks, turning to look at Seraphina and the guide. “I know it has power, but…” He pauses. “It is it the power we need, all of us? To recover?” he wonders. “To prosper?” He looks at Teagan. “Though I suppose you don’t need it at all,” he tells her.

“It has healing powers. Much like the lore of the fountain of youth. It is restorative.” Seraphina says, having done some of the research of course! She is still giving Thomas the evil eye, her fist balled up like she may be ready to strike. Despite this tension, the guide says, pulling on the rein of a camel to get it to kneel so that Teagan or the angel can mount for the journey. “In part, this is true. It is restorative, but it comes at a price. To reap the benefits, one must be willing to bath in its depths. It is a body of water, but it burns.”

“There are many myths,” Thomas murmurs, “about purifying flames. I wish Cyprian were here.”

“He is some sort of Zoroastrian fire mage, the best I can gather,” Thomas says. “Did you know? He lost his century trapped in some magic flame.”

Teagan just gives Thomas a broad smile as to whether or not she needs this Oasis and goes past him toward the camels. Confidence is everything, they say. And as such, she is riding a wave of (New! Disposable, Inflatable, Travel-Ready Confidence! Now in Fresh Pine Scent!) confidence to get herself onto a beast she’s never ridden before that may as well be the evil cousin of her hated horses. “One can be a mage of any stripe and utterly clueless about everything around them,” she quips easily over her shoulder.

“Mmm,” Thomas tells Teagan. “I’m sure that’s true.”

“Yes,” Seraphina tells the trio, taking the time to heave herself up onto the other camel. “careful, Teagan, they are mean creatures. The like to spit…” But after, she continues, “It is said that those who will bath in the water will come from it — new. But, the water does not burn flesh the way fire does. Instead, it burns weakness, illness, fear, and spiritual decay.” She pauses here, a little side glance given Thomas. “When touched, it is said that it feels cool for a heartbeat — then ignites in a searing, internal heat that crawls through the body…”

“Spiritual decay?” Thomas asks of Seraphina as he rides. There’s some frown. “What, exactly, is that? There are many thing in the world, Sera, not all of them full of decay.”

“I have come to realize that any animals we ride resent us deep down and are always on the lookout for ways to get revenge,” Teagan says in a low voice as she watches her camel (both camels, really) warily. “Everything is full of decay,” she notes after a moment to Thomas. “The universe is steadily decaying even as it expands.”

“I would like to think I’ve ridden things that don’t resent me,” Thomas banters back to Teagan. “But perhaps not.” He looks over at Seraphina for a moment. “But yes: all decays,” he says. “Death is some gate we all pass through.”

Off the small group sets, into the desert, deep into it, until the gates of the city are no longer visible, and all one can see for miles is sand. Large and small dunes shift and rework themselves as they watch. She tells Thomas. “I’m not entirely sure, Thomas. It is just what the book I found said. But I suppose if you have to wonder, maybe its because there is a little of it in you?” She teases, right? Of course, she does. The guide says, “All true from the lore, but there are things it will not heal. It will not heal or restore what was willingly given up, and it cannot be bottled up and carried away. All you will have is a canister of inert sand.” The man says then, “And it can only be used once in your lifetime. The second time, it will burn away your whole identity.”

“I don’t resent you, and I don’t like being compared to a camel.” Seraphina tells Thomas, body bopping in strange patterns with the loping of the animal across the uneven sands. “First, a cat, a pet, and now a beast of burden. I’ll never be your beast of burden…”

“My identity matters,” Thomas says, thoughtfully as he rides. He looks to Seraphina. “You are not my camel,” he tells her. “Even if you have two delightful humps.” He pauses. “Humps? Lovely lady lumps?” he inquires. “I’m not sure.”

“I did say animals,” Teagan says, catching that look from Thomas to Seraphina. She tsks faintly, but soon has to focus a bit more on staying upright on the camel. Nope. Do not like. Do not like at all. “Oh,” she says after a time, reminded it seems by ‘bottled’ for how soon after that her features shift into one of remembrance. “I was asked if I could try to bring back some wine, perhaps. So maybe some shopping is required after all.”

The guide remarks, “Yes, yes, well, speaking of beasts…” He looks to Teagan, hand on the rein to ensure the camel continues to walk. “Be on the lookout for rocs and of course, the sand wyrms. They are far more of a problem, I think than the rocs. They can sense the vibrations of our movements. I am told that you can compare them to …” He pauses, then snaps his fingers. “Oh, the creatures in Tremors. Or Dune. But I thought referencing that first was too on the nose.”

“Thomas…” Seraphina huffs out in a soft exasperation. “They are lovely, but that song is terrible.”

“We’ve encountered one before,” Thomas says to Teagan. “It was far from ideal. The Dunebreakers are — well.”

“No, no, let him continue,” Teagan discourages Seraphina from discouraging Thomas by encouraging Thomas in his impromptu spoken-word karaoke. “I’d like to hear the entire song.” She does look to their guide and leans a little (purposefully or just due to the sway) in his direction to ask: “And how like the worm in Beetlejuice are they?”

The guide either tempts fate or isn’t actually familiar? “Beetlejuice?”

“Ah, you don’t know about Beetlejuice?!” Teagan exclaims, almost too gleefully.

This is what they get for bringing a Fae along. She might explain further in a moment, but really. Let her enjoy this.

Teagan is a beacon for bad luck, is she not? Ask the multiple cars that she’s run into, maybe. So even if the woman has her moment of enjoyment, she has summomed something. The sand shifts in an unnatural way beneath them, against the wind, to form a shape long and wide. Perhaps she should have asked how similar it is to the worm in Star Wars?

“Lord,” Thomas tells Teagan and Seraphina. “You two…” He pauses. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen Beetlejuice,” he admits. “I was a kid.”

Seraphina didn’t say the name, she’s not tempting fate, afterall, and that Thomas thinks she has, just goes to prove how much he does listen to her. Hrmph! But there is no time to point that out! The camel that Teagan is upon stops abruptly and starts to tug on the reins the guide holds. The animal makes sounds of protest, even as it starts to sink into the sand like a b-rate version of Artax.

“This doesn’t seem good,” Thomas observes, scanning the horizon.

As Teagan sobers from a bout of the giggles, she notices the shifting of the sand. Because she is a luck fae, it is true. And not all luck fae are of the good kind. She certainly tends toward the bad, particularly where she herself is concerned. “This is fine, right?” The query poised as she gestures toward the shifting sand with her staff. But then her camel is sinking and Teagan is swearing in a mix of English and Spanish as she grabs firmly at her key. “I told you, I told you these animals cannot be trusted!”

As if it were the camel’s fault.

“No, this is not good..” Seraphina says her eyes now on the sand as it begins to try to swallow up her own camel. “How fast can camel run?” she asks, no one in particular, but clearly this is not something that she’s researched.

Teagan is not about to go groping around for her thumb drives just to find the one with the ‘Camelus dromedarius, Land speed of’ entry, sorry.

“Not fast enough,” Thomas says to Seraphina. “For esssentially any question other than ‘racing another camel’ or ‘racing a person’.” He snaps the reins of his camel, trying to get some speed.

“I do wish that I could fly…” Seraphina says, but then, she might be able to outrun it even without wings. Is it something she is willing to try? The guide says, “Remain still. It will pass if we do not move.” And yet. Camels. And Thomas, driving the camel she and he are riding upon.

“Yeah,” Teagan hisses to their guide, “and if we drown in the sand, we’ll pass too. And not in the ‘like ships in the night’ kind of way, either.”

Unfortunately, there is no outrunning a Dunebreaker. One massive worm head, dusty from sand, but still somehow slimy, bursts through the sand, between Thomas and Seraphina, and Teagan and her camel. Sand sprays everywhere like a hose with a hole in it.

There is no way that Teagan is going to remain on that camel once the worm breaks through the dunes. With her key held firmly now, mirrored scales now rippling down her left arm, she etches symbols in the air and through the rift comes an amalgamation of light and color that inserts itself between her and the worm, closing quarters with it. Meanwhile the redhead tumbles off the camel to the sand and starts backpedaling, bow freed from her back to start firing at the worm as she works on gaining distance enough to feel less like, well… worm food?

Teagan’s camel stops hard in the sand when the battle starts, it tosses her off of it and then running off in the other direction. Sadly, first you see it, then you don’t as a second worm pops up from the sand and swallows it whole. It is actually lucky that she tumbled off or she would have been worm food, and luckier yet, she was not the person the worm was in hot pursuit of. No. It was Thomas, the awful camel-jokey, and Seraphina. When it breaks though, the angel rolls off the camel from behind Thomas, leaving her in direct line of sight of the creature, and the first on its mealplan.

“I need a new line of business,” the guide mumbles, having drawn a knife but using it to cut his palm. The blood drops onto the sand, sizzles there, in fact. But before he can utter a ritual, the worm is segmented, the bottom half still wiggling. The camel is likely not a tax write off. For her part, Seraphina is breathing a bit heavily, “Well… Maybe we should tread a little softly? We do not even know how far out it is we must go.” She stores her blade away, and then brings out her water. The guide reports, “We are close.”

“That does not account for the trip back,” Teagan points out as she recovers herself, getting out her canteen as well. Stamina bedamned, she’s panting a bit. Her minion is dismissed with a gesture, but she does not release the key. Just in case. Otherwise, it is back to the bow on her back and staff in her hand as normal. She does set off to follow, marginally glad at least to not be riding on such untrustworthy animals any longer.

“We all need a new line of business,” Thomas tells the guide. “We need a life of idle indolence, surrounded by beautiful women who peel and feed us grapes.” He pauses. “And yet: what we have is this world of ours,” he says to the man. “Imperfect.”

In this deep desert, out in the distance there is a shimmer, a mirage between the very visible heat waves. She gives Thomas a look. “I am not a single grape for you, Thomas.” She says this but — there is what she says, and what may end up being a reality. The raven-haired adventuress takes a sip from her canteen, seeking to quench a growing thirst in the oven that is Anupharis. “Look!” she calls out, pointing, and soon the speedy little angel is off and running, trying to reach the oasis.

“What a miserable world that sounds like. A bunch of lazy, fat men expecting what they already do? Ugh. At least right now there;s some use out of you.” Teagan notes and is about to give a conspiratorial wink to Seraphina when… she realizes the other woman has taken off. With the slightly huffed sigh of someone who is just over this heat (that she will most definitely be missing within seconds of being back in New Haven), Teagan takes off after.

“Be careful,” Thomas warns Seraphina, but he is starting after her. “There are strange illusions here, in the deep desert.” His steps quicken, following her with some speed. “Both of you!” he cries out, including Teagan as well. “Be careful!”

They are also being guided by an illusionist, but surely he wouldn’t just give them an illusion. After all, its not like Thomas and Seraphina hadn’t been the cause for him losing all his men, and having to hide his identity! By the by… where is the guide? He does not seem to be here anymore. Dunbreaker? Backstab? At any rate, they are now without a guide or his very small caravan. “Its fine,” Seraphina tells Thomas, echoing the man’s own words to her, as she runs to a very literal fire, to dive beneath the flames, in fact. She sips a canteen, though, not coffee.

Surely he wouldn’t. Surely! Thomas is not as fast a runner as either Teagan or Seraphina, moving across the dunes in his heavy indigo robes. “Of course it’s fine!” he calls out to Seraphina, some genuine joy in his voice. “What is it?” he asks. “Can you see it?”

At least her cloak flapping up behind her as she runs means Teagan should be readily visible for some time. The white staff may blend into the dunes, but between her red hair and the blue of her attire: she’ll stand out well enough even if she outpaces Thomas before he sees the fire or Seraphina. But unlike the angel, the fae does not dive in. She’s not in need of this… but someday? She might be. And so she comes to a stop, stumbling only slightly in the dust-like stand to keep her feet. “Sera?”

isn’t listening. Gah, perhaps Thomas has rubbed off on her too much. Its plausible that she heard Teagan question her. Maybe her sanity? The flames burn hot, white hot, and the heat is palpable. The desert dry heat trapped in the air and beneath their feet is made all the more unbearable with the burning lake. The woman falls to her knees at the edge of the water, entranced by the fire, the very kind of fire that once burst from her hands. The woman reaches into the flame, and the water, and submerges her hands. And then the scream comes.

When Seraphina screams, Thomas runs faster — worried, clearly. “Sera!” he shouts, and there is genuine emotion in his tone, some panic. He runs up to the end of this lake of fire. “Sera!” he calls to her, looking for her; looking to see if she is okay.

“Is this a trust the process… or fuck it, that kind of scream is always bad kind of situation?” Teagan may be talking to herself, but it’s keeping her from running in to pull Seraphina out. Because if it’s the former, she loses it as an option in the future. And if it is the latter, she risks turning it into a two-point harmony. “Do you have a good line of sight on her?” As she starts summoning up the wind, she approaches nearer (but still keeps a nice healthy flame-free distance).

The hazy nature of the mirage does obscure her, certainly, and she’s right center of the oasis, her hands plunged into the water, and fire crawling up her arms and setting her clothing aflame. And as mirages do, as warned by Thomas, they move. Does it seem farther away from Teagan and Thomas now?

There’s a pause, and then Thomas looks at Teagan. “If it comes to it,” he tells her. “Pull us both out.” Then, turning to look at the fire, he rushes for Seraphina, summoning a flare of wards and energy shield around him as he tries to go pluck the woman free of the flames.

“What? Oh, yes, of course,” Teagan says as she hastily stops working her poor man’s telekinesis (a strong gust of wind) to shove Thomas into the fire after Seraphina. She does keep moving to keep herself out of it while keeping the two of them (hopefully) in sight.

Tears fall from Seraphina’s eyes, no matter how much she burns. “They are true! The lore is real!” she calls out, adamant on keeping her hands in the flames, even as her flesh smokes. “It has to be!” she says.

Rushing into the flames, Thomas’s shield flares purple-green. The magician is chanting, words rolling off his tongue, and unlike so often — when he has some chorus of whispers to back him up — this is only him. He sprints to Seraphina as his shield coruscates with flame, whatever dark power fuels it beating back the fires of righteousness, and he stoops. He stoops, to pick Seraphina up, turning to rush back towards Teagan and safety, buffeted and protected perhaps by the wind she calls.

There is some light shuffling from one foot to the other and Teagan squints to watch through the haze of the fire and other illusions. She’s still not venturing in. Someone has to stay out and tell the story if this all goes terribly wrong (provided she makes it out of the desert in that case, that is). “There is a tipping point,” she murmurs, not raising her voice to nudge the scales one way or the other. But she’s still talking as if she could do as much. “You have to find it… the point where you either trust the process… or you realize it was all a lie. And if you decide at the wrong time-”

You either miss out on a great discovery… or the rest of your life.

“Come on Hale…”

And as soon as the scholar has Seraphina in his arms, Teagan does call up the wind, summoning it from behind them and toward her: hopefully protecting, yes, but also giving an extra push to get him out of the flames all that much quicker.

In Thomas’s arms, Seraphina’s hands are still flaming, black smoke rising from them. But with this fire, there is something more, if one looks closely. And Teagan and Thomas are. They might notice that her veins glow golden. It spreads from her wrists up her arms. It pulses in her neck. It is far more noticeable when the wind first causes the flames to flare higher (thanks oxygen), and then blows it out. Her veins pulse as the grey smoke still rises from her skin, even which has not been affected by the fire she lept right into with blind faith and a sense of curiosity and adventure. What was the worst that could happen, afterall?

What’s the worst that could happen, indeed? Thomas holds Seraphina close, dearly so. Once he’s out, he looks to Teagan, even as the dark-haired woman glows and smoulders in his arms. “We need to get back,” he tells Teagan. “We need to get home. Do you have a shard of mirror with you?” he asks, cradling the woman.

Blue eyes drop to Seraphina as the two exit and Teagan is closing the distance to start looking the woman over. She does not reach out directly to touch her, no. But it is a visual examination and one of concern at that. Thomas’s question may well come from a distance for all she doesn’t react initially and when she does, it’s with a “Hmm?” But the question does finally process and she reaches into her messenger bag to surface with a pouch. From this, when opened, wafts the scent of several herbs and the like… but a rather small hand mirror is produced. “I try to keep ritual items on hand.”

“Don’t we all,” Thomas murmurs to Teagan. With Seraphina in his arms, Thomas begins to chant: focusing on the mirror to open a doorway home, back to Haven.