"Muse," Plasmatoris muses. "I always expected my muse to be something less symbolic. Ah! I apologize, Mimi, that errant thought was rude of me." He picks up the inset eye gem he had earlier set down, curling it into a fold of his makeshift toga-robes, and he turns from the now-forgotten art (It was his own work after all, so clearly nothing he can draw inspiration from) and sweeps outwards towards where he assumes the gardens would be. "My memory is a bit addled today, I think. I have no recollection of any butterflies, nor flutter-byes. Nor muses, to be honest. I should love to see this butterfly at work at their gathering. It might inspire me."
Silasâ suspicion only increases. Yet again answers that make no sense. He looks at the wooden amulet on the table, which he had failed to notice before hand. He would like to inspect it but if she wants him to wear it seems dangerous.
âNonsense. This is the first time we have ever meet. I am not putting on any of your charms. Where have you taken me?â
"I humbly beg your forgiveness for my manners, what is your name, on noble unicorn? I am Okeannetis, a Maga of House Tytalus. do not like you being in a pen either, but I am not sure where I am, so as I said, let me get dressed, and we figure out what's going on here, as it's as much a puzzle for me, as it is for you."
Lares gets up and starts towards the hallway.
âYou are right, of course, as always. Now, how are we going to do this so we donât startle her needlessly?â
Lares stops outside the bedroom, knocks firmly, and calls out in Latin through the door:
âDear lady, may I have a word with you? Nothing to worry about, but it seems that something rather odd has happened.â
The girl closes her eyes "Libya. The covenant de Liberte is in Libya." She walks over to the plate and places some sort of meat, eggs, and some vegetables on the plate then closes her eyes. The food transforms itself into a... passable meal. At least the meat and the eggs are cooked. "Sorry, I'm Nicole, still developing my finesse."
"Libya? Libya? What am I doing in Libya?" mutters Argentius as he looks at the girl, watching her at the plate as she cooks the food.
"None of this makes sense. This must be my father's doingâŚ"
The magus returns to the table. "My casting toolsâŚ" He pats at his pockets as he looks about the room anxiously for the casting tools.
"Nicole, are you my apprentice?"
As Tastheus opens the door he sees a 10 year old boy with dark skin and dressed in white loose clothes that almost appear to be robes covering everything but his head and hands. He is continuing to talk in the language Tastheus does not understand.
Zarkut finds a number of lab texts and notes written in his handwriting, plus a few letters addressed to himself, a few in Latin, most in a language he does not know but recognizes as Arabic.
The sprite bobs up and down, "I can imagine, it seems like just yesterday I became your muse, and you said the same thing then about expecting something less symbolic. You were older then. I expect you have somehow lost your memories as you became younger, probably the skills you developed as well. Which makes me wonder, did you paint these pictures or another version of you? You still have your reputation, that has not left you, and I am still bound... o your butterfly is your, what's the word, familiar?"
The woman smiles "I would ask where you have taken me, yesterday we were in Greece and I became your muse, today we are in this landscape of blasted rock. But the charm is not mine, you made it years ago. It covers your condition."
"Unicorn? I remember being called a monocerous, is that the same thing?"
The woman in the bedroom begins shouting in an unknown language.
Nicole shakes her head "I don't think so, I have never had the Gift. Like I said, my mother was your cook, but now a girl who says she is my daughter, despite being the same age as me tells me I am your cook. Cook is not really descriptive, since I use the enchanted plate. You helped set up this covenant when my mother's mother was a child, and we fled the Inquisition in Provence, except it wasn't Provence anymore, but part of a unified France. We are Cathars, and had to flee."
"Do you know what year this is?" asks Argentius. He then pauses, considering, and then establishes his parma magica, taking care in the ritual.
Lares takes step back from the door.
âWell,that didnât work out great. Maybe you had better stay out of sight for now, Albrecht â who knows how accustomed she is to ghosts. No need to shock her any further.â
Lares then opens the door with his gaze lowered at the floor. He makes calming gestures at the woman while walking to the cabinet and indicating the womenâs clothes with his hand.
âPlease, clothe yourself. We will figure this out, no need to worry.â
He retreats back out through the door.
Silas shakes his heads in frustration.
âNonsense yet again. Yesterday I was at Verdi with my parens. I have never been to Greece in my life. And how could I have taken you here? I donât even know where here is, so I couldnât have been me. Nor have I crafted such an amulet.â
Silas approaches the table to take a closer look at the item, cautiously. If he really was the creator, it should be noticeable somehow.
Nicole looks uncertain as she answers "the year of our lord 1274? At least that's what I remember it being."
The woman has no modesty when you enter the room but flies towards you asking unintelligible questions as you show her the closet. Then she is silent, aside from the sound of heavy breathing as her nostrils flare. After a few moments she grabs an outfit to put on as you depart.
The woman sighs deeply, which you realize is the first time you have seen her breathe. Picking up the amulet you see where verditius runes have been carved into the pattern, and they do appear to be in your own style.
Lares closes the door behind him.
âLooks like we need to find someone who speaks Latin. Letâs see if thereâs someone else here. Stay out of sight still, if you would be so kind.â
He takes a peek in the kitchen, then tries to find a way outside, looking for more people.
Silas puzzlement increases. How could this be. Only his parens should be knowledgeable enough to make such an exact forgery.
âThatâs curious⌠Some illusion perhaps?â
Still holding the amulet, Silas turns towards the woman again. With the other hand Silas gestures toward the other room, which he recognizes as a laboratory.
âSo whoâs laboratory is this then, I suppose it wouldnât be yours if you just arrived as well.â
Zarkut looks over the documents, his confusion deepening. His handwriting? How could that be? He pages through looking for any notes in Basque. Not knowing how or why someone would forge his handwriting so it fooled even him, but if they did, maybe they'd know his mother tongue anyway...
"I have never heard that name, but perhaps it is."
Okeannetis puts on some clothing, and exits the door to the room.
"You're some kind if spirit, then? Or a faerie? As for where we are... That's a good question. A geyser of water doesn't sound like Durenmar. Nor does a hot day like this at this time of the year. I guess those answers lie beyond this door... I don't suppose you brought me here somehow?"
Aetherius will step outside the room, on his guard.
Plasmatoris stares at the little sprite, mind spinning. Ideas, disbelief, aesthetic observation of the pixie's form, calculation of likelihood. Ugh, she looks like a faerie. Aren't they parasitic creatures on the souls of humanity? Maybe she is lying, or maybe...Maybe I have no idea. Plasmatoris turns away and walks to the paintings, laid out. He looks them over, analysing them as he speaks.
"Tell me what you remember about me. And the familiar. How we met. If you have been a muse, then you likely inspired the unknown paintings." He looks them over, trying to decide if they are his style, and if he can determine their order of creation, to see the evolution of the style. He will look at the sculptured next.
"Where are we, Mimi? what do you know about these works? What do you know about my familiar? Can you get me something to write notes apon?"
Lares heads outside and sees a variety of people, a few children but the vast majority are between 10 and 25, leaning heavily to the middle. Skin colors range from european mediterranean to a dark olive to a very dark brown, and they seem to be divided by styles of dress as well. Except of course for the wooden people, whom he realizes are not just statues when someone talks to one of the figures and it follows them. In the center of everything is a geyser spraying water up into the air where it does not fall down but evaporates instantly, and at one end of the town is a set of animal pens with fantastic beasts you have never seen before, something that is a mix of lion, hippo, and crocodile, a sphinx you have at least heard legends of, and what appears to be a truly massive black unicorn with armored plates for skin walking out of one of the pens, a woman in her early twenties seems to be heading towards the unicorn.
Silas- there is no lab equipment in the kitchen, the lab is in another room.
Zarkut finds nothing written in basque.
Okennetis finds much the same scene as is described for Lares, except of course for the fact that she is the woman headed for the "unicorn".
The voice answers Aetherius "No, I'm not a spirit, I'm an Ibis. Water bird. Which right now is lacking in the water. And the only way I could have brought you here is if you are rather small and possibly tasty. What door are you talking about?" You exit the house to much teh same scene as the other two, except that you also spot a long legged bird nearby.
all the paintings look like your skill improved significantly before you made them. The sprite bobs over a mountain landscape "This is the first, of these at least, you had earlier works you gave away, you painted this one in the alps after studying in Paris, the next you created from a studio in your old covenant, from your imagination" the second depicts a scene of pigs dancing while storks sit in chairs watching. "That spawned some interesting stories, and faeries to go with them, let me tell you! Then there's..." she seems to know the exact history of the first 19 paintings, then falls quiet.
Giving up on the papers, Zarkut goes to the balcony, and looks around. As he walks over, he asks the ghost, "Al Zahut, are you recalling anything? Do you recognize this place?"
The ghost appears, shaking his head "nothing, nor do I remember having ever been anywhere this warm, though at least with no body I am not uncomfortable."
The woman in front of Silas stammers, "I assume it is yours. It looks like yours."
Silas looks rather unamused. Heâs not making any progress with this being, and she isnât making any more sense.
âMine? But⌠Just stay here for a bit.â
Silas makes his way towards the laboratory. The owner would have left some evidence behind. He continues to clutch the amulet in his hand. Surely there must be some explanation to all of this.