71st of Ymiden 721, Mid-Evening
Continued from here
Woe emerged from the gateway and into Quacia in nearly an instant, Opal's moonstride gait carrying her through moonlit areas, directly to the intended destination. Woe was heartened by his arrival. Generally, that meant that there was a chance that the person he sought also wished to meet again. Whether Woe would be able to bargain for her to return with him, was another matter.
The scent of wood ash and soot-filled choked all life from the city of Stone. At a glance, Woe could understand perhaps why Moseke's followers had sought to find acceptance, and gather a following to her. The arrival of Moseke's faith presented an alternate path to that of the Wounded God. A way to work with nature, rather than desecrate it. Yet it was never so simple. Nature had laid siege to Quacia since the cataclysm. Death and doom were commonplace. The city was always expanding, contracting, burning, and rebuilding. Diseased and wretched at one moment in history, and Glorious and forward-thinking at the next. In those qualities, it was a living thing.
The city breathed in and out, growing at one moment, burned down to rubble at the next. It could be wounded to be sure, but then scabbing over and then recovering. There was an underlying spirit of strange optimism and hope about the place that wasn't easy to perceive for most. Yet it was there, beneath all of the darkness, fire, blood, and gloom. Just as Xiur had told him during the feast, Hope was always there, even if it was hard to see.
The moonlight shone a path on the way forward, and Woe though he had a concern about Augusta, he calmed himself. There was no sense proceeding in anxiety, no greater time waster than fear and paranoia, which could prompt mistakes that wasted even more time. He had under thirty bits to locate Augusta, and convince her to come back with him. Or he'd have to wait until another night. Again and again, until she was no longer willing to meet with him. Then, would the door to Quacia forever be closed to him.
He was in the Shanty, and the ruin was almost palpable in this district. A field of rubble about a mile wide, festering beneath the high-rises of the Fortress, and what remained of the Gleam.
There was no time to waste, yes. So Woe called up Breen from the Beneath, bidding him to seek out traces of Augusta's emotional scent. Breen had met with her before, he knew and would be able to recognize the pattern and texture of her sorrow, if she did indeed suffer. IF not, well he was an extra pair of eyes at least.
Woe dismounted Opal, and proceeded quietly along the streets, invoking the ability gifted by Ziell, to walk as silently as feathery snowflakes upon a hill. He went forward, and soon enough received word from Breen in his mind. "Master, she's in there."
Breen's presence was felt within the broken-down frame of a tenement structure. The embers of yesterarc were all over the building, having been burned along with the rest of the old-growth in the surrounding countryside, in the Quacians' Zeal to purge anything that might harbor the lingering Creep.
Woe silently entered the doorframe, which left an open sky above him. He guided Opal into the building, and she acquiesced, following him inside. While he had no fear that she might be stolen or harmed, it was best to be careful.
Woe followed the whimpering of Breen to its source, where he stood beside Augusta, in the corner of a partition in the ruins. Woe entered, unheard by her at first. Then he slid his spectacles from his pocket, onto his face. It might help to explain quickly why and how he'd come, but first, he'd want to have an actual word with the woman.
She was curled up, wearing simple leather trousers, a linen shirt, and a measure of cloth that served as her bedroll. Was this how she was living? Who was this brute who ruled her life now?
"Augusta." Woe said, and then again, louder, "Augusta, it's me."
She stirred in her sleep, always having been a light sleeper, she rubbed her eyes and then shot up when she caught sight of him. It took a moment, but eventually, she recognized him. "Woe? How did you... Why are you here?" She looked a touch frightened, and he couldn't blame her, remembering what he'd been capable of while infected with arcane madness.
He shook his head, holding his hands up. "I want to foster your independence, from this man you've fallen in with..."
She stared at him a moment, and then heaved a shallow laugh, "Foster independence. What manner of ironic wordplay is that? How is it you 'foster' independence."
Woe's eyes rolled to the broken ceiling above the ruin. It was going to be a long thirty bits.
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