OOC: BSparrow, you can control his mother and where the guest room is, just get to bed. We've got a lot of people waiting on the morning to come, and we don't want to lose anyone else.
ooc- Trust me, I'd like nothing better. I've been in IN's shoes far too many times.
ic-
Morgana followed "Elizabeth" (somehow, Morgana didn't think it would be particularly polite to call her apparent benefactress by her first name, but she had nothing better) as the older woman led her up the stairs on the side of the inn. The older woman didn't speak much, either because she wasn't sure what to make of her son's guest, or because it was simply not in her nature. She let Morgana into a well-furnished room on the end of the hallway, with a window that overlooked the square in front of the inn. Very little dialogue was exchanged between the two women, for which Morgana was grateful. She had nothing against the woman (other than being bowled over by her, of course), but she had little will to make small talk.
Once in the room, Morgana tried to get comfortable... but found that she couldn't just yet. Not until she'd inspected every inch of it. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but it didn't really matter. Once she'd run her hands over the walls, checked beneath the rugs, tested the casing on the window, checked desk and bed for structural abnormalties, identified the scents of all candles and herbs, and gotten a good whiff of the bowl of strawberries in the bowl on the side table, she felt much better.
She'd just flopped down on the bed when the door burst open, and a tub, bathing supplies, and a fresh nightdress were brought in. She shooed the servant out before she had a chance to even
offer help with the bathing, locking the door firmly behind her.
With a contented sigh, Morgana set her dagger on the bedside table, shucked off her clothing, and sank into the tub of hot water, scrubbing liberally to get the scents of the day off. Then, she dried herself off and slipped into the new nightdress. She had half a mind to throw the old one out the window, just so she never had to smell it again.
Leaving the tub to stand in the corner for the rest of the night (the servants could fetch it in the morning, for all she cared), she sighed and slid under the covers, letting herself go. She didn't so much fall into sleep as dive into it.
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In the middle of the night, she woke abruptly with the distinct sensation that there was someone in her room. Memories of being grabbed in the middle of the night--one of the few memories she retained--made her snap her eyes open and lash out before she'd even located the intruder. She kicked out at the darkness, but her foot hit nothing, and she only managed to tumble out of bed in a tangle of sheets.
She turned her head wildly about, searching for the presence.... but no one was there. Not that she could see in the dim light. Nonetheless, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone present. She reached for the rusty dagger she had set on the table...
...only to find that it wasn't there.
Panic kicked in, and she made a move toward the door, only to be blocked by a black shape that detached itself from the shadows. She leaped at it, hoping to barrel through, if nothing else, but the other easily turned her momentum against her and flipped her onto the ground. She lay on her back, trying to catch her breath as she stared up at the ceiling. She felt a soft leather boot land on her stomach, and a pair of cold brown eyes glittered down at her from the shadows above her.
"You have always been a light sleeper, Sister, but that was a bit much." His voice was low and raspy, and deadly quiet. It was unnerving enough to stop the woman's struggles.
Seeing that Morgana had stilled, the foot was lifted from her stomach. The man stepped back, giving Morgana room to stand... a gesture she didn't understand. Still, it was better than staying on the ground. She stood up shakily, peering at the figure. "Who are you, and what in Oblivion are you doing in my room?" she hissed.
She could make out an odd shift in his posture. No wonder he was so hard to see; he was wearing black robes, the bastard. "Now is not the time for games." The man would have sounded annoyed, if his cold voice could pull off such a tone. "Come, you've tarried long enough."
"Tarried? You think I'm
TARRYING? What the bloody--"
"For the love of Sithis
keep your voice down," he hissed. Morgana's mouth snapped shut all on its own.
She could see him narrow his eyes. "What is wrong with you?" He demanded. "Have you been compromised?"
Morgana shifted uncomfortably. The book she'd found earlier came back to her.
The Five Tenets, it had been, and she had known it by heart, even though she got the distinct impression that she should not. This was, undoubtedly, related to that. What else could it be? "I... I think I have been. I don't remember much at all before yesterday. ...Do I know you?"
He closed his eyes, his expression one of mildly mixed annoyance and weariness. That was all the answer Morgana needed.
At last, with a long sigh, the man opened his eyes again. "I am Lucien Lachance. Come. We're going to get to the bottom of this, and this is not the place." He pulled Morgana's dagger out of his robes and tossed it onto the carpet, then turned and headed out the door.
Morgana gathered up the few things she had and padded quietly behind. She left the dirty nightdress, though... she never wanted to see that thing again. "Where are we going?"
"Just be silent and follow."
It irked her, taking commands. Yet, this man didn't annoy her nearly as much as most of the people she'd met today had. He was straightforward and coldly self-assured. She couldn't help but feel an immediate respect for that.
Clutching her few possessions to herself, she followed the stranger out of the inn and into the district, clinging to the shadows the entire time. Lucien was much better at this than she was... she lost him several times, and he had to grab her to get her moving in the right direction. Finally, they entered into an average civilian's house and preceded down into the basemant, into a sub-basemant, through a damp tunnel, and to a red door with a black hand imprinted on the front.
Morgana jumped as an eerie voice surrounded her.
Where does the Night Mother rest?"In the arms of Sithis," Lucien said without hesitation. The portal creaked open.
Welcome home.ooc- There, whew. MORNING. Don't go, IN. It's morning, see?
Sorry for abandoning you momentarily, FC4. I'll find you again in the morning, I think.