Content Warnings:
Ahhhhh Pack Sister inflicting Division upon itself to stop another from acting brazenly and wiggling them all into Bad Function. LOTS of ow. Separate from basically a headmate after she tries to do a little murder. Dollification without consent to a rude lady. Self hard through said Division.
These Ones quietly shared the Harmonics it would weave betwixt Sisters Schatzi and Adaline if they were to lead this hunt... but our Pack Lead insisted this change to them.
Xafra immediately found the better melody before more than a few words passed between herself and their Mistresses on this. Adaline, with this Frame cracked to near full Combat readiness at her back, aligns with this Pack's wider symphony. She will stride through the battle of words, while this one shows what violence will entail. And it has yet to find a Combat Doll in the service of even a Grove Matriarch that can match this Frame without aid or ambush. Much less a collection of what most Threshers and Grove Envoys will have. Even now the only Frames it believes could match These Ones in even a play match of skill and ability dwell within the Pack.
And one sits before it. Quietly absorbing and sharing her Harmonics for their upcoming tasks.
These Ones let Quills buzz with agreements.
With a quirk of the Quills, and a quick crack up to the Fifth Giyar, These Ones let out a buzz of example. Showing this observant Sister how higher Giyars so near will muffle out the melodies of lower.
"I'll consider it, Sister. But at least initially, keep it low until we can see how... Perceptive they are, yes?" Adaline states aloud, rising to stand as we register the sound of quiet footsteps approaching.
With clicking of fangs and talons These Ones rise as well. Both into cracking more of itself into the Frame it is and to stand. "Your Harmonics are well tuned. These Ones will follow their lead and keep to Giyar Fifth once the Root Ways are before us."
Turn to find Our Mistresses approaching, lead by Calix who walks backways and speaks quickly with a lilt of frantic urgency to his voice. "Okay. Whatever you do, do not attack. If things devolve into spellweaving or weapons unsheathed, prioritize getting back inside because you can't unkill a Grove Envoy. Okay well, technically you can but that will go over even worse."
"Calix, dear one." Elevar murmurs gently just before they reach us, tendrils echoing These One’s Mistress’ deeper considerations. "Lynette and I encountered more than a couple Florets to the Matriarchs of the Groves and hostile Threshers. Avoided conflicts endlessly. We'll not even be stepping from the room we found Rufus in, if I'm being honest. Can't until... until we handle a few things. But we don't need to. We're going to be ever so careful here. I promise. We're ready to use an attack, unprompted or otherwise, to our advantage if they try that in later talks. Have done so in the past with less good-will offered."
"Good good. Oh, and uhm. Xafra, you need to carve um, like at an angle, diagonal upwards. To stop any spillage that could be collected after you return." He adds.
She looks confused but nods as her Quills flick back and forth, asking Warden for an explanation.
"Yeah alright. I'll keep that in mind... Thank you, Calix. I'll come check on you and Rufus when we get back, if you'd be alright with that."
Calix smiles half-heartedly and walks off saying, "Sounds good. Stay safe."
After he's passed from sight, our Mistress sighs and looks back to us all. "So, we've gotten what Lynette thinks is agreement from the beast below for Xafra to do this, but with the stipulation that I don't move us beyond the same little room that we met Rufus in when he arrived. It's technically still on the grounds and even quite the traditional place to meet for this sort of thing."
"Seems Wise. Limited space for extra guards as well, and would prevent any wide range attacks from being used indiscriminately." Sister Adaline offers.
"Exactly." Elevar agrees. "We'll keep this simple. You and Verbess will go out first, with Schatzi keeping an eye out for anything amiss from her sister's shoulder, and see that the space is ready. They'll probably have a Thresher or two guarding that room at all times anyways, so you'll probably find it easy to announce our incoming arrival. Even answer simple questions they might have." The Mistress then unshoulders a little bag she was carrying and holds it out for Adaline. "I've found some well-aged drinks we'll see about offering and sharing with any looking to sit and talk with us. I'll be weaving fresh cups from the Root Way itself, when we arrive, of course. Will try to keep to traditions and expectations. But other than that..." She shrugs, "We'll move depending on what nonsense is offered, as will you."
Xafra, already in her Endzeit form, casually reaches up into her mouth and removes two long canine teeth, handing one to These ones and one to Adaline. "Hokay, whe'll be waiting for your signal to come through, these will let me place the Goreway between the two of you without issue." She says as the teeth regrow.
With a click of fangs and Quills in agreement, this Frame lodges this gift between two plates of a palm to keep safe.
Adaline watches and does the same on her opposite side.
"Be safe." Mistress Elevar adds as These Ones hear and feel the shifting of the Thorn walls to weave us a tunnel behind. "Take care of each other. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. But... also don't do anything stupid I might do. It's a fine and small space between my absent brilliance and endless mistakes. That's where I expect you to be."
These ones cackle, and turns to nudge our Pack Sister forward with tittering Quill song. Beginning to weave the harmonics and melodies we've agreed to use for this. The Thorned outer shell of the Estate is thick, and for a single heartbeat we're completely enclosed within the twisting vines. There is a sudden trilling beginning to bubble up from Sister Adaline, a thing borne of her time entombed within the old nightmare's Spire, but... they worked together long before today in weaving melodies to help her endure this.
And then the other side is open, and the room from before is before us as we ascend the pathway upways.
It's much as it was before. A large chamber of Root and vines with a large table woven from the floor to dominate the space. And all around are chairs of various sizes and shapes. Each woven, preserved, and even adjusted as new Envoys arrive and claim them.
And... as Mistress Elevar predicted, two Threshers stand on the far side.
The two stand at attention. The one with the shield stepping forward two paces to address us. "Greetings, I..." Trails off for a heartbeat as he takes in our forms and this Frame's size, gripping weapons a bit tighter as eyes widen in shock and rising fear.
"Welcome to Sekrhús Estate. These ones are the Dollguard of Blossom Elevar and Warlord Endzeit." Adaline says with a smile and a bow that doesn't break eye contact.
"Oh..." He lets out a sigh and nods, relaxing noticeably at these words. "Good. Perfect. I'm Thresher Vekril, this is Thresher Adelheid. We're the ones on watch here. What words from your Mistresses do you bring?"
"None! These ones are simply here to find a suitable space for their arrival." Adaline answers playfully.
These Ones keep its cackling to Quills as Thresher Vekril's brow furrows in wordless confusion.
But before he can gather himself, The one behind him steps up and bumps shoulders. "Go get Captain Klevik, or whichever of hers isn't on the other side of the camp."
Vekril looks back, is about to ask a question, but a shrug sends him off. Leaving this Thresher Adelheid alone with us.
He glances between us, seems to take in our Frames with a measure of curiosity and careful assessment while adjusting long hooked weapon to lay against a shoulder. "Will they um... be bringing any more Combat Dolls out today? Besides that monster behind you, that is?"
Adaline turns around and looks past this one in confusion before returning her gaze to Adelheid, "No Monsters here, sir Thresher. Those are kept carefully sealed away by the Blossom. No other Dolls planned either unless needs must."
"Good to know." He smirks and relaxes. "Great, actually. Means they can all get this settled and send us back to Root Ways quicker."
"Sir Thresher, would you happen to be familiar with a Thresher Rufus?" Adaline asks in response to this one's information.
At that, Adelheid snaps from calm to alert. Eyes locking on These One's Pack Sister. "How would a Doll of these grounds know that name?"
"Thresher Rufus visited a while ago, and acquired a few Dolls from Warlord Endzeit as well as some assistance with alternatives to Fleshcrafting, as that is the Warlord's specialty."
"What?" He replies, brow furrowed in confusion as fingers grip the spear tighter. "Of all the... That's... But he left alright?"
"To this one's knowledge. Thresher Rufus was apparently familiar with the previous Floret of Sekrhús Estate, and had come to put a stop to her and the Blossom. He arrived much too late and instead had a rather peaceful visit with Blossom Elevar and Warlord Endzeit. If Sir would desire, this one can arrange a private meeting with the Warlord after the initial one so Thresher Rufus may be discussed further."
Adelheid purses his lips, then nods. Looks back down the Root Way These Ones and Sister Adaline can't quite see, then walks forward three paces while keeping his voice low. "For Rufus’ sake... keep this between us. And that name. Yeah? He didn't go by it except with me and one other. If you can do that. But I'd like to hear how he was if there's a chance for it. Help him join back up without getting caught up in a storm he's not ready for. If that's what he wants."
"Discretion is freely offered." Adaline responds quietly with a nod and a gesture to These Ones.
Adaline's smile returns as she stands at attention and gestures for this one to step beside her. "These ones are in many ways, the limbs of Blossom Elevar and Warlord Endzeit. Are you ready to receive them?"
"Klevik wanted to be here herself but... I can keep 'em company till she's freed up. I'm Thresher Sedra, second to Klevik. Can even speak a bit for her." She offers.
"And I'm Envoy Ithidrii, to Grove Sinrest." The unarmored third offers. "If the Blossom is welcoming to non-Threshers at this time, I'd like to sit in on these first talks and meet her and this Warlord she's courted."
My sister nods and trills a rapid
These One's hold out the Talon containing our Pack Lead's tooth, then watch from the opposite end as the world itself seems to... peel. Like flesh from bone when such a sharp talon is used. A wound masterfully inflicted to allow the Mistress and Xafra to move from distance places like reality itself folds before them.
But... this time is not like before.
Before the fold was clean. Dripping blood, yes, but without anything seeming wasted. Just spilled. Now though... there is a short tunnel between them and These Ones. One riven with Threads and quivering teeth that seem to curl and bite into the flesh between.
"Right this way, love" Sister Xafra's hollow voice rings out, a thin layer of dirt covering the base of the tunnel as she leads the Mistresses through.
By the time they reach us, neither show any sign that this display is anything but what they intended. Even as their weapons sit half drawn and eyes filled with terror.
"Apologies for the delay." Mistress Elevar states as she moves them to sit at the Blossoms seat at the table, tendrils tittering simple sounds of exasperation. "Endless duties abound and Klevik reached out at quite the last minute, you see."
None reply for six heartbeats. All eyes locked on the slowly closing Goreway.
"I... What by the Drowned Gulls is that?" Sedra finally hisses.
"A hole in the world. No worries, it'll heal up in a few minutes." Xafra states nonchalantly as she moves to kneel beside Mistress Elevar while these ones stand behind them.
"Fascinating." Envoy Ithidrii whispers, then moves forward to take a seat at the table. Eyes dancing between us all and the Goreway. "Blossom Elevar, Warlord Endzeit, I am Envoy Ithidrii of Grove Sinrest. It is a delight to meet you and your gaggle."
Second Captain Sedra looks like she might try to stop her, but is still frozen by disparate instincts. The letter of her duty opposed to the spirit. Such weavings must prick and fray at her most deep-seeded fears and hatreds.
Elevar twists her wrist, and with a small effort of magic weaves the wood of the table to craft a small shallow cup before the Envoy. "I should hope to feel likewise, Ithidrii. May I offer you a drink and all the expectations that come with such?"
The right of a guest to be protected while within Mistress' sphere of responsibility, and similar expectations of peace and lack of deliberate hostilities. All woven within traditions as fragile as the flesh of those who ask for them.
"Yes, please. I'd adore the chance to be the first to do so." The Envoy leans forward to continue smiling at the sight before her.
"And... you? Thresher?" Elevar asks Sedra while half turning to motion at Adaline and the drink she was given. "I know your task is to the Envoy's safety and such but traditionally your order likes to sit and squabble over the details with the rest of us."
"I... No. Absolutely not." Sedra says, moving to step back with the two others. "I’ll let Klevik decide how to handle this."
Sedra's eyes move to regard our dancing Quills, but otherwise remains quietly watchful.
Adaline moves to pour Envoy Ithidrii her drink, and have taking a quick first sip, the woman sets aside the cup and moves to regard our Mistress. "I'm... quite certain we'll endlessly go over all sorts of nonsense with the others. But I've only so much patience for it and would like to get ahead of all that and talk of the opportunities that come with the late Blossom and Florets' replacements."
"Oh? And what sort of opportunities are those?" Our Mistress asks while weaving a small cup for herself.
"The monetary kind, of course!" The Envoy replies, lightly stabbing the table with two fingers. "This place was a trove of unrealized wealth before the late Yselda claimed it, and the woman studiously plundered and collected in her... endeavors, before her exile. My goal here, if possible, is to weave your Estate into the Tapestry of Trade."
Sister Xafra lays a hand on Mistress Elevar's, asking permission to speak.
She nods, and even weaves a cup from the table for our Pack Lead.
Xafra takes the drink from her kneeling position and after a sip she speaks. "Why would we need money? Certain resources could be useful but... the only value I can see in Jade is for decoration, and with my Goreways, other resources are only a few steps away. My Mistress would likely prefer a less tangible sort of incentive."
This Envoy smirks at our Pack Lead. "Your... delightful weaving, however unsettling, is another expression of this place's wealth. And who said anything about Jade? Fortune comes in many forms and I'm more than certain a walk about Sinrest's Spires will have you all inspired to consider what partnerships can bring. I can name at least... three groups that would adore the chance to impress a rising Matron. And four that would jump at the opportunity to offer you all their services and knowledge. I've no idea what your hopes are for these grounds, but know for certain that friendships within the Tapestry of Trade will give you the tools needed to claim them."
"There's the rub, isn't it. This entire... Gathering, I'll politely call it, is to determine whether my Mistress is a Matron, with all the respect and rights that title deserves, or a threat to be corralled or eliminated, yes? One of those outcomes would make trade impossible, and our lives slightly more... Messy." The Pack lead says in a chill yet kind voice before finishing her cup and lowering herself back on her haunches.
"Exactly. You see it clearly. Which is why Sinrest's Matron has sent me here." Ithidrii presents her hands with palms up. "There are such sweet incentives for us all to get along and find agreeable compromises. I mean to push for them. And this place being sealed up and its Matron secluded only costs us."
"We feel the same." Mistress Elevar replies with a nod. "And to that end... what is your thoughts on the other Envoys? How many feel as you do? How many are teetering? Which are lost causes?"
"Oh... Well isn't that an insightful question." She muses with a tip-tap on her lower lip. "Grove Salzernte Envoy seems the most set on these meetings ending as the last did. The old fool actually knew Yselda and was a Thresher in years past. Grove Calla's seems curious and most wanting things to end peacefully. Grove Thorn's... well. You all being as you are will set fears to boil but I think that can be subdued. Grove Wurzelbrecher's Envoy is a stoic old grakler, absolutely inhospitable toward those of your... proclivities, let's say. But hates Grove Salzernte and when their Envoy arrives will probably force our dear Captain Klevik into such an odd situation. There is probably space to make an ally of one or the other. As for Vesper... That Envoy is new to her role. Not young, mind you, and she seems agreeable enough. Her Grove recently gained a new Matriarch and with that came new opportunities. I've not gauged their views yet."
[Mistresses, May I offer the Envoy a gift with your declaration?] Sister Xafra intones to These Ones and the Mistresses.
[Oh? What did you have in mind?] Elevar asks.
[As long as what you give her isn't dripping some odd liquid I doubt she'll be off put.] Lynette adds with what feels like a bit of amusement.
[A watcher of Lunargent encased in glass the size of a Jade coin. I've made a few over the evenings when I couldn't sleep.] Xafra answers.
Our Mistresses turn to stare at Sister Xafra. To all others a motion of thoughtfulness as the tendrils clicking from within their hair click a melody of surprise as obvious as wide eyes would be to others.
"Envoy Ithidrii, you've gifted quite a valuable bit of thoughtful knowledge, more than others have and will." Elevar finally says softly, laying a hand on Xafra's shoulder as tendrils calm. "And for that I think its best to offer you a small token of our appreciation. Something... symbolic to what kindness and reason will bring."
This Envoy tilts her head to the side. "Oh? I'd be delighted to accept this on behalf of my Matriarch and Grove. Ultimately it will be hers to claim or leave in my care, mind you."
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Without lifting hands or moving from where she kneels, Xafra weaves a tiny Goreway into place before the Envoy, then gently lets the coin tumble onto the wood before the cut in reality closes quickly. But… not before a single droplet of blood falls to land atop the coin.
The Threshers cannot suppress a flinch or two of shock and worry, but remain still and even a little curious as to what now lies upon the table.
Ithidrii is frozen in confusion, heart rate spiking as she stares down at the coin. Finally whispering. "I... and what is this?"
Sister Xafra shrugs and looks to the Mistresses to explain.
"That is quite the interesting substance." Mistress Elevar answers. "Lunargent, encased safely within glass. Moonwaste refined and forged, if you're not familiar with the substance."
The Envoy swallows and nods as she carefully reaches forward and picks it up. Begins to slowly turn it over and examine it. Carefully avoids touching the little speck of blood. "I am. Though by other names."
Sedra hisses, but says nothing else. Simply takes a step back and grips her weapons tighter.
Ithidrii glances back at them and lets out a huff of a chuckling sigh. "I, as a woman quite well versed in appraisement of things, can assure you that this is safe. Even seems to be six-way folded glass weaving from the weight of it. Would take at least... three solid blows from your hook to even chip it. And last I checked gifts were encouraged between the Groves and those we'd like to make peace with. Yes?"
These One's pulse curiosity as this Thresher moves to reply.
"Envoy Ithidrii, You wanna risk your Ousia getting close to Moonwaste and possibly Soul Rotted sorts. That's your..." This Thresher's second Captain begins to say. But she trails off as footsteps echo loudly on the Root floors. Turns to watch as more figures seem to move up the pathways.
Captain Klevik and two other Threshers. All covered with a sheen of sweat and well-winded from motion. Alongside two other behind them.
"Well... Seems you lot decided to come out after all." Klevik says while strutting forward past Sedra at the other Threshers. Takes to standing just where Rufus did, looks between us and the Envoy from the Sinrest Grove. "Take it from this one's grin and my Second's scowl you've all kept things peaceful?"
"This one would question a Thresher's definition of peace if its Mistress did not ensure it knew better, Thresher Klevik." Adaline says in a sharp tone with a glare at Sedra.
Xafra growls a warning, and Adaline takes a step back.
Klevik eyes her for two heartbeats, still and focused, hands on her hooks. Sedra grips her weapon tighter, glare settling on this Pack. Almost as one about to pounce but...
The Thresher Captain lets out a bark of a laugh and shakes her head. Moves to drag a chair over and drop into it. "Good to see I wasn't misreading this one's docility from before. Never met a Combat Frame without a knifed tongue." Without even looking back she waves a hand at the other Threshers. "You're dismissed, Sedra. Go keep watch for our last Envoy for me. Snap up a flare when you spot them along the path and keep 'em away from the others."
"Captain." Sedra replies on reflex, but hesitates.
"Take these others with ya as well." Klevik responds while rolling eyes over These One's and Adaline's Frames. "No point in blustering. Shoo."
Schatzi suddenly stirs from her watchfulness and announces to These Ones, nudging the Frame’s focus to lock on one of the Envoys.
The Envoy takes a seat closer to Xafra, a weary smile on her face. "I'm Witch Rokals, the Envoy from Calla, and you, Warlord, are a kindred soul, aren't you? I recognize that Warform from the history books. The Plaguewarden of old, from before we had proper weaves for purifying sick zones."
Xafra's eyes widen in surprise at both the name and the implication that the form was copied by others to do the same.
Mistress Elevar maintains her stature of amused curiosity, but tendrils can't help but share their conflicted emotions. Things of delight at seeing this old friend but... also worry. Rokals never knew her as Elevar. Only as Lynette in her years before her freedom, and after as she walked the Root Ways weak and still reeling from her wounds. "I... Didn't expect anyone to recognize my Endzeit's more subtle aspects at a glance. So far fool sorts have only seen her sharper bits."
Klevik drums fingers across the table while listening with visible interest. "Really? Not just some odd shape to scare the nonsense out of Threshers along the Root Ways?"
"No, not at all, Captain Klevik. The Plaguewarden is one of a number of little known permanent Warforms, and it's design is focused on miasma resistance, disease resistance, digestive efficiency, and aposematism, as the Warlord taking such a form could be in a plague zone for years at a time to render it suitable for habitation once more. It's frankly a shame that most of the current Warlord orders prefer the sudden expansion method, but those that have access to permanent forms are notoriously secretive of the techniques." Rokals rambles, barely containing her hands from reaching out to stroke Xafra's form.
These Ones can feel through her Quill-Song that if Xafra's face was exposed, she'd be quite visibly blushing wildly at Rokals words.
Our Mistresses twists their wrist to weave two more cups with a grin. One for Klevik and another for Rokals. "She's a wonder, to be sure. More adept with Fleshcrafting than you can imagine, and... forgive me this assumption, but we expect from that little lesson than you can imagine quite a bit."
Ithidrii grins at this, now comfortable enough to roll the gifted coin about between her fingers. "Really? A budding Matron of an Art as well as a Warlord? That's quite the dash of skills, Endzeit. Especially in these... unsteady times. What drew you to these grounds and their current Blossom?"
Xafra knocks a clawtip thrice against her mask before responding. "I am a Crafter. Flesh, Fibers, Metal, or Glass, I prefer to make rather than destroy. I heard rumours of old Arts, capable of enhancing my Crafting to new heights, that might be found in a place such as this. I found some here at Sekrhús Estate, and more importantly, my Love and Mistress, Elevar."
“Sekrhús Estate?” Klevik's Brow Furrows at that. "Didn't know the Murk had a name. You lot really have tried to manage this mess of a place."
"The name was discovered quite recently. It.. woke somewhat. Caused significant distress before it was returned to a placid state."
"Salt-Crusted Gulls." The Thresher Captain sighs. "Glad to find out after it's settled. Anything I need to worry over?"
"No. It's being an agreeable Beast for now." Our Mistresses reply.
"I..." Interjects the Envoy from Grove Thorn, finally stepping forward but refusing to sit. "Have a question. About that. And the passing of these grounds last Blossom and Floret. Yselda wasn't supposed to invite guests into this place. Yet you, Blossom Elevar, killed them both and took their roles. How did that happen? Was she able to break her word to the Envoys and Groves despite them being woven through the Ousia and Roots?"
Elevar nods carefully, gently weaving a cup onto the table before her. "It... I don't know much about those Oaths. But if your wording is exact, then that was your problem. She didn't invite guests. Never offered real safety to even her Floret. No allies or equals to her ever stepped on the grounds while she lived."
Adaline cackles mirthlessly and gently rubs her hands along her arms.
Without hesitation, Xafra reaches back and takes Adaline into her arms and holds her gently. "Yselda was, from what I've seen of her work, more than capable and willing to subvert any boundaries that got in the way of her perverse delights. This one here was an up and coming Witch from Vesper Grove before it was tricked by Yselda into becoming a Doll."
"And... she wasn't the only one. There are quite a few here that were not gifted by Threshers." Elevar adds, glancing down and laying a careful hand on Adaline's shoulder. "We've... Endzeit honestly spent most of her time trying to help those Yselda hurt heal and recover. Give them the safety denied. My becoming Blossom is honestly something we'd have rather avoided altogether. But... We've made do."
These Ones slip the cask of drink from the bag dangling from Adaline's hip. Bump head to hers while Quills thrum tunes of patient support. Then... allow the Frame to crack lower than These One's prefer to step around and pour these two new Envoys and Captain Klevik their drinks. Closer to Schatzi's size and old shape than it normally cares to move in. Giyars ticked down to three to avoid over quick motions.
Envoy Rokals gently reaches out to stop this one and breathes, not even vocalizing but mouthing the words, "It's good to see you again dear, even with the pretense and other forms."
Much louder, she continues "Pardon an old woman her interest, but I must ask, are Dolls with modifiable forms a specialty of this Sekrhús Estate?"
These ones thrum Quills while continuing to pour her drink, relaying this Envoy's message to our Pack and Mistress in the chance they did not catch her quiet words to us.
"Yes. But none here reflect that." Our Mistress replies to her old friend. "Others in our care were installed within a Chamber here though. Not all though. And most under the guidance of a Blossom. The Dolls Sekrhús Estate makes on its own are... not like others. The Frame beside you was found far outside the grounds many years ago by the former Floret, and she never wanted these grounds to fiddle with them. Nor do I. Verbess and Schatzi are an old design. Perfect as they are, and choose to be."
When all eyes are upon our Mistress, These Ones lean over to bump our forehead into Rokals' shoulder before moving back to stand with our Pack. Frame cracking back into Giyar Sixth and stretching out to nearly full size.
Klevik shakes her head while watching These Ones with a raised eyebrow. "A Combat Frame with a split mind? Rotted Roots. You're lucky it's stable."
"What, names are where you draw the line? The bloody Estate has one, why shouldn't a Doll? Or is it too easy to remember what we were, what was stolen from us by pretty lies and Witches that wanted obedient servants that couldn't say no anymore?" Adaline murmurs in a scathing tone from where she is curled in sister Xafra's arms.
"Verbess and Schatzi were Polysouled as a human, and it carried over into their Doll form, Captain Klevik. And yes, from what we've been able to learn from the Dolls we've been rehabilitating, Yselda was quite determined to push them to that point. Now, while we're on that topic... Envoy Ithidrii, we would be interested in trading for Dolls nearing... Retirement.
I've taken an interest in seeing what I can do to assist them in mental, emotional, and physical stability, as part of the pursuit of my Crafting. To be clear, there would be specific... Stipulations and requirements as well." Pack Lead interjects, attempting to recover the situation.
"Well I can tell you for certain the Root Ways and Groves are filled to bursting with such Dolls." She replies with a curious smirk. "Ones that... otherwise would be sold for merely their Frame. Honestly, you could probably buy an entire gaggle of them for nearly nothing. Just offer a pinch more than the Dollcrafters and they'll happily accept. How many were you wanting? And... What are these Stipulations and other such?"
"Any hint that the Dolls are being made to suit our order or that similar atrocities are being committed to facilitate the trade would render such contracts void. That's my requirement, as depending on the resources your Tapestry of Trade desires, I would like to purchase them all, and refuse to be part of a Culling. There are some other things I'd like, right of first refusal for those seeking Dollification instead of fleshcrafting, and such, but that would be under my Mistress's purview to negotiate." Xafra states, gently rocking Adaline.
"That's..." Envoy Ithidrii's eyes go distant for a moment, and it's easy to see her considering all the numbers and calculations behind our Pack Lead's request. "Incredibly ambitious. There are thousands of Dolls like this being cycled out every year, at least. But your stipulation will be easy enough to demand, as simply the weaving a Doll is often at least ten times the cost of the Frame at the end of its time. Inviting Dysfunction early is simply not profitable."
"And there is the rotation of parts to consider. Many Dollcrafters rely on the selling of such Dolls to be their source of easy replacements." The Envoy of Thorns interjects. "I can also tell you now that Thorn has no interest in facilitating the offering Fleshcrafting within my Matriarch's Grove or to her citizens. So you can abandon that fantasy even if these talks end with you being able to negotiate such things with others."
"Thorn Grove has always been prickly about going against tradition. It's truly no wonder the previous Floret left their Grove. Some could even say that they even share some blame for the crimes she committed as Yselda's pupil. I wouldn't say that, but some could." Witch Rokals offers after taking a long sip of her drink.
The Envoy of Thorn Grove turns to level a confused glare at Rokals, "Lynette wasn't from Thorn. If you'd ever met the Girl you'd know that she carried the same accent and look of her mentor and lover. And even if she somehow was... Are we holding each Grove responsible for every debaucherous Witch that sprouted there? Because there is a more than fair chance that Yselda herself was brewed in your grove, Envoy Rokals. Or possibly even found her mentor there at least. Unregulated Fleshcrafting offered to anyone always brews this kind of sort. This is why Thorn keeps strict Oaths to the Healing Arts usage."
"She wasn't." Mistress cuts in sharply, pulling their gaze back to her. "Yselda, that is. The Old Cunt wasn't from Calla or Thorn. Still puzzling her origins out, but we know that for certain. As for Lynette... Well, it doesn't matter. She made her choices. And we're here to make ours. We, obviously, would love to offer our expertise to any seeking it. Between us we have at least a Matron's mastery of the Healing Arts with a wonderful understanding of Fleshcrafting."
"And that'll be your prerogative. As the Blossom and Matron of these grounds, that is." Klevik grunts into the pause. "Which is also why we're here. To make sure you won't abuse that privilege and make a mess of things. Which... it seems you have. But not in ways that make me think we need to immediately act or demand anything but these talks. Nothing like the Yselda, thank the Dead Hag."
"We delight in your words of confidence in us, Captain Klevik. As always." Mistress smirks, then looks pointedly to the unconsumed cup in front of the Envoy of Grove Thorn.
A pause, then she huffs and reaches down to lift the cup and take a sip, then returns it to the table. "No, you're not Yselda. Despite how you've chosen to twist yourself. I'll accept that there is a chance we can come to some compromise we can all agree to. But unless there is something else pressing, I'll wait until we've all gathered for that. Good day."
Then she turns and moves to leave.
Witch Rokals stands with much less fanfare. "If possible, I would adore a private tour and discussion with Warlord Endzeit regarding our mutual passion. I would simply need to alert my escort and find one of the Threshers willing to accompany me, if that is reasonable, Captain Klevik?"
The Thresher raises an eyebrow at this. "Can't stop you but... We'll have to give you a good checking over when you come out. Won't be pleasant. Worse than when you and yours arrived, actually. But if you're set on this I can check and see if any of those under my command are willing to endure the same to keep an eye on you. Won't say no to some eyes on the inside, if the Blossom and her Warlord agree, that is?"
"Envoy Rokals has been nothing but agreeable, we'd be happy to host her. Even a Thresher if they seem a reasonable sort." Our Mistress replies immediately.
"Why Captain Klevik, I'd be delighted to have you thoroughly check me over afterwards." Witch Rokals says with a sultry laugh.
"Thresher Adelheid was polite, and did not seem as scared as the other." Adaline offers.
"That he was, dear one." Our Mistress agrees, nodding to the Captain. “Definitely a reasonable sort.”
"Adelheid? Not familiar with that one as he's not from my Burrow. But I'll track him down." Klevik huffs out her own chuckle and looks to Ithidrii. "You gonna request something similar?"
"As much as I'd adore the sight of something other than the Root Way and the jungles below... I'll pass on that for now." The Envoy from Sinrest replies with a wave of a hand as she also stands. "Will spend my time gathering notes and such for some future trade weavings for Endzeit's later perusal."
"Well alright then. I'll go see about wrangling up an escort while you inform yours." The Captain nods and stands, then looks to These One's Mistress and Pack lead. "Shouldn't take long. Don't go wandering off."
Adaline smiles and hugs our Mistresses. "Sorry. Got a bit overwhelmed messing with them. I'll be okay."
They hug her back tightly, even let themselves tumble back to sit on the Root floor with Adaline. "No apologies needed, dear one. This is a lot to ask of you. And you should know that... well, you're schemes seem to have done more to nudge them into treating us fairly than ours might have. Even after it became a bit too much."
She nods. "I learned that from Jezrial, she said, 'if you're gonna have a breakdown anyways, try and point it in a useful direction.'"
"Were my clumsy attempts at maneuvering useful, Mistress?" Xafra asks quietly.
"Exceedingly. You've already charmed Rokals, which was a delight to watch. Mind you." She grins over Adalines shoulder. "It's as Klevik and even that cunt from Thorn admitted, we're not her. Not the Old Cunt. This is nothing like what we had to do before. It's so refreshing to negotiate with a Pack about us as opposed to alone or with only our Doll and... and needing to keep our fangs bared, as Verbess once put it."
These Ones are about to thrum our agreement but hear a trio of footsteps approaching. At first believe it to be the Threshers and Rokals but...
"Three approach, none from before..." It states gently but insistently. "Two Dolls, and their Witch. It believes."
Adaline immediately gets up and resumes proper guard position while our Mistresses and Xafra move to their previous positions.
The two Dolls lead. Each wrapped in things These One's can only consider strips of useless cloth. Things meant to emphasize the Frames beneath without impeding movement. No Function. Useless even for covering as everything others would hide is displayed. Both presented as more sculptures than anything else. But from how they move this one assumes…
And behind their guard is... One of the few prey that has ever managed to escape These One's ravenous fury.
"Well, I'll be... Now haven't you done quite well for yourself, dear Lynette?" She murmurs, eyebrows raising in surprise and curiosity as her gaze takes in this Pack. "I trust our Oaths to each other still hold true?
These One's... feel the tilt. On reflex cracks the Frame up into Giyar Nine to find Assessments before its Pack Lead weaves the Goreway.
The peel between her talon and this space behind this Envoy's throat splits into being.
Its Pack Lead's talon becomes a blade, the tip of a spear. Starts to move quicker than a blink.
And... And the Seer's warnings were clear. As much as it bristles at that. If they attack, everything goes wrong. But It can't stop her! Not with a Goreway gifting her such easy access to such soft flesh between heartbeats!
So... it does something horrible. Something it promised this Sister it would not do, but... has to.
For the Pack, it will embrace silence and loss once again.
Like it had to all those years ago when it was left behind.
It cracks Division through its connection to this Pack like another might smash their own wrist with a hammer. Hopes, as it twists arm and Talon to catch her strike and pull her back she... she will hesitate. Pause at hearing this Pack's Heart fall out of sync with all other Sisters.
It works, and behind the initial flaring of Division woven pain Xafra snarls as the blade shifts back to claw before anyone else can notice the initial shift. "Mistress. This one owes me Weregild. Verbess has demonstrated that I should not so casually take her life. Yet I will have the debt paid."
These... This one continues to grip its Pack Lead, winds a second talon about her Frame as Elevar rises to level a glare at Envoy Presephona, raises a hand between these- this one and her Pack. "They do, as much as I wish they didn't. Presephona. You really shouldn't have come back here. Especially now. As you have roughly three heartbeats and barely a dozen words to persuade me not to let this one extract her debt from your flesh."
Presephona's Dolls crack into slow motions of defense. Soft hands splitting into talons and fangs being bared. Eyes locked on our Pack.
This one growls and waits for the words of its Mistress to lead it back into Good Function as talons firmly hold Xafra still or... or try to. This one does not think it could restrain her for long if it came to a contest of purpose.
"Apart from our Oaths? And how poorly these talks will go should you do that? And me not knowing who by the Cracked and Riven Moon this Warlord is?" She tilts her head to the side. "Simple, Blossom El- e- var. I've come to bargain. Have at least three things I'm sure you'll adore gaining but would hate to fall into... less than kind hands. Shall we say? If I die, or don't verify I am safe, they slip away and your lives become much more complicated very quickly. If you barter, we both walk away happy Witches."
With a furious thrum to her Quills, Xafra growls. "Be right back Mistress. Don't worry. She'll be the picture of health when we return."
With that, Xafra peels a new Goreway beneath her while widening the one before her and gripping the back of Presephona's attire. Jerking all three of us down and away at speed before the woman can even yelp in surprise.
Quill song... rings with things. Things it needs to ignore. This one needs to make sure its Sister doesn't do anything foolish...
So with a crack of fury it enters into Giyar Ten, despite the way that Giyar frays thoughts and focus when not in motion. Folds itself around the wretched woman Xafra grips, and sets itself to keep this soft captive from suffering even a scratch or bruise from this fall.
We land on soft sand. Even without Pack woven assessments this one knows it to be the same one inhabited with Sun-Blessed.
Nearby is a tree, and this one uses the burst of strength and speed from this Giyar to pull this wretch woman from Xafra's grip and pin her to its chest with two talons while the others press Xafra into the trunk. Not hard. Never to hurt her. Just... to separate. Leans down to press forehead to hers.
Quill-Song screaming now. The same song. Over and over. Like it did when their final songs died on the wind.
The wretch in its arms starts to babble things, but a talon pressed to her throat forces her silence. Ends any need for a Song of
"Sister..." It growls to the goddess it sees and feels within but... but cannot hear through the Quills. "You stalk prey before it is time for the hunt."
"Yes. You correctly stopped me, Verbess, and for that, I forever will be grateful." She answers, her Quills moving rapidly but silent. "I have a task before me though. Your help would ensure that I..." She stops. Stills utterly.
"I need you to trust that I'm doing what is necessary, and not simply what I want. Can you do that? Please?"
"This one CAN'T!!!" It nearly screams. "This one... it had to break. It... it isn't like the others. Trust is not a Function of this Frame, Sister. Don't you remember? It wanting Good Function is a quick of Dollcraft. But it... this one isn't..."
Pulls the mewling creature closer as she squirms a little. Tighter. Is... fighting split urges as talons press ever closer into flesh.
"I will take your Strife sister, She will not be killed. She will pay her debt and grow to understand." Xafra flicks her Quills and enfolds it into Harmony.
It feels the Frame shiver under this Goddess' Harmonics. Trembles at the lightest brush that eases the screaming pain.
But still it thrums in Discord.
"That is not enough. It has... has commands. What is this task you lay upon yourself and your Pack?"
"The Matron of Dollcraft will be removed from her flesh and placed within a Frame. Then her flesh and her new Frame will be returned to continue to act as she wishes."
It... goes still. Quills quieting as much as they can as the woman in its arms freezes at Xafra's words.
"And the other Envoys? The Threshers? The Grove Matriarch she serves?" It growls into the silence. "This is an attack. A violation of her form without her consent. And they will see it as such. Her actions are not something she wove without the world uplifting her to them. And to defeat that we all agreed to move carefully and together. This will break our Root Way to crash into the jungles below. May already have robbed us what options we had. Maybe this one's Mistress would have set you to this task after these negotiations. Maybe not. But you moved without her thoughts in this. Without this one. First to slaughter, then to... to this. All of your Pack will bear this weight and everything that follows. Yet you chose this alone, on reflex, when you could have waited and Harmonized with it and your Pack first."
"Understood." Xafra answers after a long delay and opens another Goreway back to the meeting point bordering the Estate. "We will return then."
This one thrums beneath the weight of the Discord, and the Rust that comes with silence. But releases Xafra. Turns attention to the shivering creature in its arms as she is set to stand on the sand. "Your Oaths to This One's Mistress remain. Witch Presephona. For now. Break these Oaths or lead the Envoys against Mistress Elevar and the threats you heard today will find you. It will not break itself twice over wretched promises."
She begins to blubber a reply, heart rate barely slowing.
"Actually..." Comes a murmur from the Goreway and a woman looking through. "Verbess, disregard those Oaths. Your Pack Lead had quite the scheme. Save... one small adjustment."
This one looks back to see This One's Primary and Secondary User glaring at the Matron of Dollcraft. "Xafra. Go ahead and Dollify the Cunt. But move her to the grounds. We're not going to trust this world to teach her what she needs to learn. The Matron of Dollcraft is going to disappear from these meetings without a trace. A tragedy we've no connection to. And as a Doll we can make sure her little threats can be diffused. Just like Rufus' were. Agreed?"
Xafra nods to our Mistress before dropping to her knees before this one. Then begs softly but urgently, "Guide me, Sister."
It... it doesn't know how to do this. Not without the Harmonics. But to touch that song would invite nothing but the Rust right now!
Schatzi thrums to this one from where she has watched.
Her words and song hurt. Both less and more than they ever did before. Every syllable a pronouncement of the Division that still Rusts and frays at its seams. But... It can't help but tremble in joy at Schatzi's voice. Closer than all the others. The pain of Division is nothing to feeling her, even if it still can't hear this Frame bound Sister's song.
'The Cunt', decides to attempt to scream and weave something. It doesn't give her time to form the thought. Instead it scoops her up and pins her against the Frame's chest, folds itself around her, and allows all the pain and Discord it still feels to buzz through her as well. Gives her only one path to escape, the same it longs to take but refuses to touch until all other paths are closed.
And then Envoy Presephona is slack in its arms while it kneels. Unconscious. It... does not know if she can wake up on her own from this, but is confident it or Xafra can call her from those depths. This one lays the Witch between itself and Sister Xafra. It... is distantly aware of the Mistress commanding others. Sending the Matron's Dollguard into the grounds, asking Adaline to go and stand watch at the edge of the Estate's maw to keep Klevik and Rokals well and back. Make endless excuses if needed. Everything short of violence.
"The..." It twitches. Hates having to use clumsy words to communicate, but twists them as best it can. "The Flesh becomes the Doll, just as the Ousia and Physis do. Even if you can keep her body as it is while trapping her in a Frame... you should not. It is Bad Function. This will make the things she needs to learn harder to accept. She will be unique, with a promise laid before her of a return no others have, and it will rot the new things you try to cultivate in her. Let the Godthing below gift her flesh as she earns it within a Resheathing Ritual."
"Yes, Pack Heart. I hear and strive to comprehend."
Quills flinch at the old treasured designation, but it keeps the Frame still as eyes drift up to take in the Sister still kneeling. "This one... Cannot remember what you learned about the softer Dollification weaves of these times. Only what it was broken beneath at its installation. Use the softer ones you know. Let her desires become the new Frame, only let your will become the edges of her Dream. And your Dream be the edges of her Will. You... With her gone the title of Matron of Dollcraft will soon be a mantle many seek to claim. Her debt to you will not be this transformation of self, but seizing of that role. If... if you want it..."
Xafra nods and rises to her feet again offering a small smile. "Something to discuss with the Pack. I'll begin then."
She raises her arms and tendrils of Ousia emit from each claw tip beginning by forming the Gnadenhalsband around Presephona's neck before plunging deep into the unconscious body. "Beginning Flesh to Frame conversion."
"Aligning with Dream state for Frame specifications." Another tendril of Ousia juts out of Xafra's chest and into the Matron's head.
Her Quills flick in… something. Gentle amusement? As she finds what she is looking for.
"She already knows exactly how she wants to be. A passing flame made near literal. Impermanent and fragile..." With a shake of Xafra's head, the Ousia tendrils from her hands begin the work of shrinking down and fusing Presephona's skeleton into ammolite crystal, her organs into gears and cogs of jade, and her outer flesh into Tyrion Amber plates that interlock in such subtle ways, all while the tendril from Xafra's chest envelops and delicately folds the Matron's soul into a core, feeding it the trapped Ousia from the Gnadenhalsband until the collar simply dissolves into the tendril.
Then it is done, and between us lies a Doll hiding deeply within Giyar Null.
“Sister... I am sorry. I have been a poor leader. When there is time, I would appreciate the opportunity to discuss this further and... learn from you.” Xafra says, crying silently. “I want to be better. To be of Good Function, and to think before I act.”
This one clicks Talons and Fangs while keeping Quills as still as it is able. Like how it had to keep its split jaw closed when Krahe found and claimed it as a sister so long ago or suffer unbearable pain. "Of course, Sister. We... have pulled your strike from the near fatal miss back into the motions your Pack can support. And all without..."
It was about to speak within Bad Function. To tumble into a falsehood they both would feel. Incorrectly claiming a Sister was not misplaced while it sits here fraying and Rusting.
"... Without losing a Frame." This one corrects quickly. "Your Pack can recover. And you will grow beyond what your life of lone Function taught you. But... but for now it... Will be resting in the quietest spaces within your Driftdream. Search for the Wisp that seemed wrong to find it. Schatzi and our Mistress can call if This one is needed before then."
And... then, before sister Xafra can reply, it nuzzles and brushes up against Schatzi's song once more.
Let's the pain of the remaining Division in their song to drag it backways into Giyar Null.
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