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Deanna squinted at the ink pressed to page above her guiding finger, and pursed her lips. “Now this is a problem.”
They’d found the aged scroll in Ludinus’ Molaesmyr tower, an artifact of an era that had seen similar disruption to magics. People were nothing if not adaptable - faced with no sending spells then, eventually another way had been developed, cherished, then lost again as the easier way reasserted itself. The scroll promised connection between two people not by following the leylines, but threads of fate, and the moment the Hells realized what they held, they had hastily stuffed the other prizes from their exploration into their bags and crowded around it, Ludinus’ plan forgotten. The prospect of connecting with Laudna, Orym, and Ashton again shivered anxiously through each of them as Deanna ran her finger under every word, slowly. When she spoke, all attention snapped to her, whip-like and vibrating.
She carefully rolled up the scroll, pressing her mouth into an apologetic line.
“It looks like there’s another component we missed. You have to have blood from both the sender and the sendee. I guess it won’t work after all.”
A muting pall settled over their excitement. Another dead end.
“Does it have to be wet?”
They all turned towards Imogen, who had finally stopped pacing. Deanna blinked.
“What?”
“Does the blood, ah. Have to be wet.” Imogen toyed with the chain around her neck, then sheepishly lifted it with her thumb to bring the Bloodwell Vial up out of her dress. “Because I. Um. Might have something that will work?”
FCG rolled closer, optical sensors readjusting to look closely at the vial, humming. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, Imogen, I know that used to be Laudna’s, but doesn’t it need to have YOUR blood in it to work?”
Imogen’s gaze skittered away towards the ground, the tips of her ears heating. “Well, yeah, but when we…lost Laudna, her blood in it turned to ash. I didn't dump it out. I just sorta…mixed my blood in with it?” Her voice murmured near to silence. “I didn’t want to give up any piece of her.”
Those words dropped like a stone into a still pool, and the group stood in the quiet ripple of Imogen’s grief, until Deanna clapped her hands together, eyes wild and smile painfully wide. “Wow! So that is dramatic and macabre!”
“Aw, I think it’s sweet. It’s nice to keep mementos of those we’ve lost, isn’t it? All my weapons were scavenged from Dancer’s other robits after I horribly murdered them by mistake.” FCG turned to FRIDA. “If I ever die, you have my consent to use my body parts. I think my shoulders might make nice pauldrons.”
“I will…keep that in mind.” FRIDA pressed a hand to their coat, above their core. “I do think I have all I need, however.”
Deanna screamed with her mouth closed, looking towards the ceiling, before pointing at both Imogen and FCG with the scroll in turn.“Cool cool cool. So just so you know, that is not normal. You know that’s not normal, right?”
Fearne nodded serenely. “Yes, we’re certified freaks.”
Imogen, who had been slowly burning brighter and brighter red behind the hands she’d pressed to her face, opened her fingers enough to scowl through. “Fearne, your bed curtains are made of skin.”
Fearne shrugged. “I said ‘we,’ didn’t I?”
Deanna’s frantic laugh and muttering of “sure sure ok sure” seemed to lance her hysteria, and she settled. One more deep breath, and then she patted Imogen’s thigh.
“Hey ok, no judgment, actually. I’m kinda into it.”
At that, Chetney leaned over and waggled his substantial eyebrows. “Y’know, when I turn into the BEAST, I unzip my skin.”
Deanna flicked through several stages of grief at once. Again. She sighed, knocking the rolled scroll against her chin with both hands.
“It is incredible that you felt like just being a wolf wasn’t freakish enough.” She paused. “We’ll talk about that more later. Why don’t we maybe work on the spell now though? Imogen, give me your blood sludge, let’s see how it goes.”
Imogen took the vial from her neck and passed it over, and the bubble of awkward around the group popped, as they returned to purpose. After a minute of muttering in elvish to herself, however, Deanna raised her head with a frown.
“I can’t BELIEVE you all gave me shit about the goat, though.”
“Aw, damn, Deanna, you broke Imogen again.”