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If there was one thing Nightshade desperately needed practice with, it was the subtle art of dealing with other people. The half-breed for all her elegance with a blade had no elegance with the spoken word. She had her natural charms. A gentle smile, a softer than average voice (when she wasn’t screaming at her coworkers), and a generally relaxed posture (when she wasn’t in the middle of a fight). But she wasn’t all too familiar with actually convincing people of things on more than her merit of character alone. On that train of thought, she wasn’t very good at leading others, even though she was a fairly determined little creature.
That was what made her so nervous about her new position. She decided she needed to head over to the new town as soon as she possibly could since she wanted to get started early and make sure that all the mutants were taken care of. Not to mention make a good impression on them as soon as possible. The more friendly terms she was on with them, the better her life would be in the long run. Having them as friends not only made her job easier but made her feel safer in a way. Though that thought, of course, made a slight twinge of guilt enter her stomach. She was supposed to make people feel safe, not let them make her feel safe.
On top of protecting people from the mutants, she’d done a lot of work trying to protect the mutants from the people. Within the last season, she’d hidden more people under her wings than she ever had in her entire life. It was a good habit to be building up at the very least. As soon as her wings were strong enough she was going to start wearing her Valence Armor regularly, which would help in both combat and on the grounds she could use them like massive shields. It was already something she did often enough without the armor, even though it wasn’t the most effective thing in the world.
She breathed heavily as she tried to keep her thoughts all in alignment. The one part that worried her most about this entire thing was the simple fact the mutants had an empath. She wondered how and why an empath had ended up in the town. What gender were they? What would they act like? Look like? It was assumable it would be a mutant. She had a hesitance when it came to trusting this empath as anything magic related she usually thought of in association with Vuda and bad things. Her hesitance to trust was founded on many things, none of which were pleasant.
But, she refused to be derailed by something so painfully simple as a magic user. If she had that little courage then she wasn’t fit to be a warrior for the citizens of Etzos, let alone marked by the immortal of honor.
She remembered the location of Lakewatch by heart. After all, it had been one of her many jobs to try and map out good locations for towns. The beautiful secluded area of the territory she'd kept a secret as well as she could. Look back, it was hard to feel any kind of shame in the lie considering the goal it went towards. The winds were in her favor and flight had been quick, though annoying. She had stopped as little as mortally possible to try and make as best time she could, fortune be blessed she knew how to fly the way she did. She made the wind do as much of the work as she could make it.
As she watched the area come into view she decided it would be wisest to land a little way before it. There was no telling what they might do if a random woman just so happened to show up with little to no warning in the sky of all places. It was likely she'd be shot down if not attacked by any of the mutants who'd managed to mutate functioning wings. That was obviously enough a risk the half-breed didn't feel was necessary taking when her feet worked just fine.
The woman ended up finding a good place to land, a tree with gnarled branches not too far away but a good enough distance that they weren't going to see her coming from the sky. The oakish wood was dry and the tree looked dead, with lots of perches for hunting birds. It was the perfect place for a larger half-avriel to make her landing. The woman slowed down her flight and slowly extended her legs so that her feet grasped onto a higher hanging branch at the last moment. From there it was a couple hops down out of the branches, her fall slowed just enough by the beating of her wings as she brought herself closer and closer to the earth. Her feathers weren't even so much as ruffled by the wind, carefully preened and taken care of though she'd never admit it. Keeping care of one's wings was only common sense when the slightest feather being out of place could have disastrous effects on one's ability to fly!
After making her way to the earth Nightshade regathered her thoughts. She would likely approach the town trying not to look aggressive. But how does a trained fighter go about looking as non-threatening as possible? Be it wise or insane, the woman's idea of looking 'harmless' was making sure whatever weapons she brought were on display and her hands were in plain sight. As a forethought, she'd only brought Love Struck with her in case of an emergency. If they decided she'd be less dangerous unarmed (though she'd still be arguably rather dangerous given her unarmed track record) then at least she wouldn't be losing her father's sword.
As she approached the city she saw a pair of guards, two rather burly creatures of undefinable gender and appearance. The best words she could use were 'tanks'. They both had rather large statures, though one was a lot taller and the other a lot wider. One had fangs and a rather animalistic appearance, almost reminding her of the becomer she once upon a time adored. Like all things she came to love, he eventually decided that she wasn't worth the time or the effort. He never came back for her. Alex actually did come back once! But disappeared again immediately after, almost like she came back to taunt the half-breed. Even going back to her childhood the trend remained the same. When she outlived her use she was forgotten. She always did her best to ignore the pressing anxiety that Noth would follow in the footsteps laid out before him.
On the other hand, the guard who stood on the left was a bit more human-like. Large and strong, on closer inspection most certainly male, but also a lot more beefy than his companion who stood much taller. The half-breed quite literally had to look up, something she hadn't had much experience doing considering her lease on life. She'd heard of places where standing above others was a sign of being better than others. What did that make a creature like her who could so easily fly?
"Who goes?" The first one snarled. Female, guessing by the voice, female. It was a raspy tone that dragged like gravel in cobble, but there was a distinct notion of the tone and pitch that gave the impression of feminity. Likely someone who had been a guard long before the mutant outbreak given her disposition.
"The liaison," Night said simply. They'd started out speaking Ith'ession so she made sure to do the same. She wasn't sure if the mutants were aware they would have one or not, but she didn't feel compelled to lie to them given the nature of the situation. What would be the point? So instead she took an objectively blunt route.
"Then you wouldn't mind if we tied you up and checked to make sure then, would you?" The second one, the male, hissed as he regarded her through almost serpentine eyes. Those eyes were so comforting on actual snakes, her Taithir familiar in particular, but they were downright eerie in a human skull.
The idea of being tied up was a distressing one. She wasn't necessarily sure she trusted these people. But they didn't trust her either, so one party needed to swallow whatever fear they had and make a point. She supposed at this point it had to be her. With a resigned sigh, she quietly nodded her head. The guard approached her carefully, grabbing a rope from somewhere. She had hoped this would be much simpler and it wouldn't involve the one thing she hated most. She didn't like being tied up, nearly as much as she didn't like small and cramped spaces. She just about worshiped her freedom given the childhood she had. Any situation where she resigned control of her bodily ability or was restricted in how she could use them was a situation she quite thoroughly didn't like. But she silently complied. A yelp rushed from her body as the rope was tugged around her. "The wings! Careful of the wings!" She gasped. There was a bitter look on the male's face like he wanted to say something, but a quiet growl of warning from the female guard and he relented slightly.
She waited quietly for a while as the guard who tied her up disappeared, leaving her under the watchful eyes of the female guard. She could only hope that he was going to get the empath in order to test her. And hopefully not getting the rest of the town together for a lovely bird stew.
By the time the bulky male guard returned with someone, Night's wings had grown numb from lack of circulation. The individual walking beside the guard toward her did not inspire confidence.
He had a decidedly sinister look, his brow pressing low over his eyes to make them look permanently conniving, or even angry. The sides of his skull were so cleanly shaven, it looked as if it was more likely that hair simply didn't grow there anymore.
What hair there was had grown long and flopped loosely to whatever side the wind would choose, with two horns jutting forward from within the mop. Whether it was from effort, or an unfortunate fact of nature, his smile made its recipient feel as if a knife must be poised at their back.
His clothes were of a vaguely pirate fashion, but nicely cut, especially in the seat of his pants, where a short, wide reptilian tail had to be accommodated. But the most striking detail were his eyes; pure white, void of any apparent pupils, yet strangely able to follow their target with the same accuracy as any others.
He held out a hand as if to introduce himself, then offered what appeared to be a falsely embarrassed grimace at the realization that his "guest" had her hands bound along with her wings. It took no great effort on the part of his empathic abilities to detect Night's awareness of her currently numbed wings. Tied as she was, she could not access the ward to prevent it.
The first part of his test would not require it though. He locked his hands behind his back, "My name was, and still is, Garen Cricci" He pronounced it 'CREE-chee'. I'll offer my apologies for the bindings after I have determined that you are who you claim to be. I have heard several accounts of the liaison's good nature, and wish to aid us in any way she can. So if you are indeed she, you will fully understand our need to ensure that you are not some fanatic, sent to spy us out with the intent of flying away to betray our location to Etzos."
Gauging her reaction to this rough necessity was just a small part of the empathy-free portion of his test. He then continued on with the next portion, "So, realizing that you have no hands available to accommodate us, just tell us where you have the papers from Patron Calloso, outlining this liaison arrangement, and I will look them over and make sure nothing has been changed."
Most people in Etzos knew that Patron Lerrik Calloso was the head of the "Old Guard" faction, one of the most tolerant groups to be found in Etzos. Anyone who did not know that the arrangement had actually been made through the Citizen's Committee would consider the Old Guard to be a very likely partner in such an effort.
Given the nature of the man standing in front of her, the half-breed herself was remarkably unperturbed. There was a slight amount of discomfort noticeably visible, but nothing that gave away any fact she might have been put off ease by the man in front of her. If anything the discomfort simply came from the fact she had her wings tightly bound to her sides and her arms were starting to go numb in addition to her wings. Some might have thought the appearance of this man disgusting or perhaps even intimidating. His nature alone was enough to prove to the densest of people that he had the potential to be dangerous. An idiot could have picked up on the intelligence and dangerous nature hiding behind those pupil lacking eyes. But Nightshade? No, Nightshade was dating Noth. Enough said.
Watching him careful and listening to his words, she shifted slightly. There was something deeply upsetting about being bound, but the emotion itself wasn’t direct at those around her. The annoyance boiling in her stomach was at the rope itself, a vicious and wrathful annoyance that came with the prickly feeling of her wings being uselessly numb and bound. There were also traces of anxiety wreathing their way through her chest. A terribly fearful feeling that came with being unable to access her wings. None of these emotions were connected to the slightest in the mutants standing around her. They were directed completely at the feeling of being unable to move, her beloved freedom restricted so greatly. It had taken much effort to agree to be bound and now it was taking even more not to beg them to take the ropes off. Or at the very least loosen them.
When Cricci spoke she did her best to focus the entirety of her attention on his words, trying not to pay mind to pain and desperately chaotic feelings that came with being tied. She wanted not only to be able to reach for her anti-empath charm but also for the little gem in her back pocket that helped her to be calm. She sighed as he articulated and nodded her head quietly. “Yes, I understand. This is, after all, a rather sensitive matter all things considered. I’m more grateful than I am upset. The fact you’re treating me like this is somewhat relaxing all things considered. It means you won’t be taken off guard by someone else trying to find out about the existence of the town,” she paused as she suppressed a sigh. Good natured as she was, the woman also wore her emotions on her sleeves, and it was very obvious by the way she rolled her shoulders just how deeply distressed she was. In spite of that, her patience was somewhat legendary and there wasn't even the slightest hint of a temper flaring at those who had the thought to restrain her. Just agitation towards the situation itself.
Ultimately, the words she spoke were true in regards to it being slightly relieving she was being treated like such. There was something deeply fearful in the idea that the town might be discovered. She cared not for what might happen to herself, she'd faced prosecution and death threats her entire life, being denounced for helping mutants would be nothing new to her. There, however, was a number of innocent mutants that might get caught up in what amounted to a genocidal slaughter if the town was to be discovered, and that had honestly been one of her largest worries when the mutants were being snuck out of the underground. “I do hope that one girl got here safely,” she muttered more so as a comment to herself as she thought about the mutant that she’d found when trying to map out the undergrounds with Natau. The young woman had been wounded and the half-breed had barely managed to get her out without notice. She hadn’t been able to take her the whole way, but she’d found another mutant to trust the woman with. She did ever so hope that they both managed to get out safely.
As Cricci continued the half-breed was given paused and her eyes narrowed at the comment. Paperwork? She opened her mouth for a moment and quickly closed it again as she tried to quietly gauge her words, a certain kind of familiar weight resting on her chest. “My deal was not made with the Old Guard. I spoke with the Lady Terris, it was with the citizen's committee that I made my deal,” she spoke with the blunt honesty that was so very much ingrained into her nature. It was uncertain if the woman could lie, even to save her life. On a chance, to save someone else's if the situation called, but surely not her own. There was perhaps a bit of worry in her tone as she spoke, unable to keep it completely even in response to the comment. There was no way that they’d set her up! Right? She knew this was going to be an unpleasant experience, having to deal with an Empath poking at her thoughts. She hated to be prejudiced but there was a distrust she felt in regards to magic, especially magic that could be used to manipulate her actions. In fact, that thought alone was one item on a very small list of things that terrified her. Now, this? The thought that she’d been set up was one that was deeply wounding as she’d placed a good deal of trust in the pair who gave her this job. She'd agreed to speak to an Empath for immortal's sake! She wasn’t sure what she’d do if they had set her up. It wasn’t what the mutants would do to her that caused any form of worry, the woman was fearless in the face of injury to self or death, it was the fear that she truly had no political allies in Etzos that made a quick shiver race her spine. It didn't occur to the woman that Cricci might have been messing with her, let alone testing her.
It is probably a pretty consistent misconception that Empaths are just naturally excellent actors, able to stay in perfect control of their own emotions. But there is really no basis for this assumption. The ability to wade through strands of emotional connections within someone else' subconscious neither implies nor imparts control over one's own. Cricci found himself somewhat befuddled by the situation he'd put himself in with his ploy regarding who had sent the avriel woman.
On the one hand, he had already detected a veritable carpet of self-doubt strands, past and present, within the avriel's mind, and could easily bring her to a desperate state of uncertainty over whether Lady Terris and her Black Guard lover were "playing" her to some self-serving political end. But that was really the opposite of what he was trying to accomplish. He was trying to establish that she WAS who she claimed, not muddle it to where nothing she said could be verified.
Also, his empathic spark had blossomed with the mutation from "The Padfoot Effect", and he did not know if it differed in some way from the traditional domain. It could be he worried over nothing. But he was not a bad man, despite his devilish look; and he did not know if his alterations to a victim's emotions might be irreversible.
And then there was the fact that this liaison was supposed to know she'd be tested. It was the reason he'd provided the Citizen's Committee with his ward. But with her hands, and wings, tied behind her back, she'd be unable to reach her ward. Plus, if he let her reach it, she'd know the test had not been done yet. And despite Empathy's subtle power, if a person knows they are currently being targeted, it greatly affects the results.
So he needed a reason to release her from her bindings without it being obvious that it was done so in order to give her access to the ward. His concern lightened suddenly as he realized she had said nothing regarding his mention of 'paperwork'. She'd caught the error regarding Patron Calloso, but had not remarked about the lack of documentation; as though anyone seeking to keep the existence of something unknown would be foolish enough to commit it to written record.
It had now occurred to him that this was exactly the opening he was looking for. He easily found the strand where he'd just mentioned the paperwork. being so recently spoken, it was prominent in the patterns of weavings at the forefront of her mind. He then traced it back to where it connected to her memory of her meeting with Lady Terris and Captain Segrille, where they had outlined what sort of testing to expect from him.
He did not immediately begin embellishing it. Instead, he turned to his two companions and instructed them to "...release her so she can retrieve her paperwork and allow us to settle this unpleasantness." There was an upside to his roguish appearance; and that was that he could apply powerful empathy to this small weave without the strain making much difference to his expression.
The purpose of this was to make her think there actually had been some paperwork, and that she somehow did not have it now. He waited a moment to do this, to give her enough time to get hold of the ward, if she had it. If she WAS the true liaison, his efforts to magnify this false worry would not take hold, and she would remain calm - if not a bit annoyed over having been bound - and flat-out deny the existence of any such document.
If she was NOT, there were a number of angles of uncertainty she'd have to contend with, and it would show. With his unusual enhancement to his empathy, a regular ward might not be entirely effective. That was why he'd had this one made infusing his own blood into it. If it was not the right ward, her lack of resistance would betray her. If she was an impersonator, she might think that there WAS a document, and be exposed that way. Every other angle eventually trickled down to one of those two end results.
There was another upside to his wicked appearance. Not only did it cover the look of effort as he applied his empathic power to her emotions; it covered the effect on his own emotions as he did so. It was not that there was a backlash of the actual magic upon him. It was simply that as he'd fished through her strands for a tool, he'd found a strong majority of memories where her behavior had been entirely motivated by honesty and generosity. The truth was, he felt bad for what he was doing.
But at the same time, he found the very strand of her own understanding of its necessity. She was truly ready and willing to suffer this indignity for the sake of what she clearly perceived as innocent victims. He felt an undeniable surge of gratitude for what now felt like "permission" to continue.
And so with a great application of empathic enhancement to the alarm that would rise from the uncertainty over the existence of the previously mentioned 'documents', he watched her to see if she had the ward, and would remain calm and dismiss it, as she should. Otherwise, she would lapse into a state of frantic despair over having "blown her mission".
As soon as she was released from her bindings her hands went to her ward. She took a couple breaths trying to force her mind into a sense of ease. "I meant to imply this with my last statement, but apparently implication wasn't enough. Properly so as assumptions based on implications can be easily misconstrued," she said as she stretched her wings a couple times, trying desperately to chase away the feeling of numbness in her wings. "There was no passing of any form of documentation. Just this," she said as she held up the little white disk now within her grip. It felt like her wings were being stabbed as the blood and the feeling started to slowly pour back into them. There was still a quiet worry in the back of her mind that he was asking for paperwork that had never actually been received. She was still hopeful something good would come from this in the end, but she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her own ears.
"I do hope that this won't be of some issue, but as I said before, there was never the passing of any kind of paperwork. Understandably so since this is supposed to be something of a secret and paperwork is rather easy to trace if you shoot the messenger," she said with a bitter laugh. Paperwork was a bad idea, in fact, anything to do with Lakewatch being put into parchment and quill makes it just a little more likely that something bad was going to happen to it and its people. The worry once again flared. Even reporting things like materials the town was in need of would be dangerous. There would be safety in putting as much distance between the town and Etzos as possible, but that would bring with it its own difficulty. The half-breed could help. Dear immortals, she'd be more than happy to help with anything that needed to get done as long as someone was around to teach her how to do what needed to get done. But everything would be so much harder trying to maintain the safest amount of security and secrecy possible. She hesitated on who she'd go to and what she'd actually report. It scared her. Again, more for the people of Lakewatch then herself.
She laid a wing across her side slightly as she began to mess with the feathers, preening them more or less. Getting tied up had completely messed up where they laid. It felt uncomfortable and she knew it would make flying harder when it came time. So she messed with the feathers trying to set them back into place as best she could while also subconsciously using it as a method to calm herself. The action worked and she was able to focus a little more, gathering up her scattering thoughts as she fought not to try and solve a hundred different problems at once. One thing at a time. Right now, that thing was the Empath standing in front of her.
Cricci saw the disc, and recognized it as having the same appearance as the one he'd had made for Lady Terris. But it was still possible that it could be a very good fake, and if he asked to take it for examination it would put any subsequent testing in doubt for the avriel girl. Any problems could be understandably protested as something he'd done to her thoughts while she relinquished the mental protection of it.
She'd also not bitten on his bait about the Old Guard, as opposed to the Citizen's Committee. But he felt one more test while she held the disc was in order. He watched her sorting out her feathers, realigning and straightening them. He felt bad for what must surely be very uncomfortable on the skin beneath.
They had more than one newly winged mutant in town, and they were all quite conscious of any disturbance in the "lie" of their feathers; those that HAD feathers that is. Only one of them had actually begun to learn to fly. They rest were trying, but hadn't gotten anywhere beyond embarrassing face-plants yet. They also had an avriel who'd been mutated to where his wings were now so small and misshapen as to have rendered him "grounded"; a term the poor fellow had used himself. They actually had him on a sort of suicide watch.
Suddenly, her preening gave him an idea. Not only would it be very easy to find the strand related to it, since it was obviously on her mind, but it would be easy to observe if her attitude changed about it. He checked quickly to make sure she still held the disc, then found the strand connecting the specific subject of feathers to her overall knot of concerns over comfort and appearance.
The whole Padfoot situation was easy to find in her mind as well. She'd apparently been close to it in a variety of ways. Once again, an appreciation for what this woman was doing here prompted a sense of guilt. She was obviously someone who cared, and had decided to take action. Still, he knew she'd accepted that such tests would be necessary, so he pressed on. He connected the Padfoot issue to her concern over her feathers, trying to bind them in a negative sense, connecting the discomfort with the proximity of so many mutants.
He began to twist the strands to add a tendril of fear and loathing, based on the joined strands of discomfort and the nearness of mutants, to make her think her feathers had been "infected" somehow. That she was....beginning to mutate herself, to become a monster. she needs to tear the infection out; to save herself from becoming some kind of horror. All the acceptance she'd worked so hard to earn in Etzos, would be destroyed if she allowed herself to fall prey to this magical affliction. Everyone she'd ever helped would turn on her with hatred and disgust! Run away! Save yourself!!....
At least it felt as if he was successfully altering her strands this way. But the disc ward made it all numb somehow, like having your hands so cold, you can SEE yourself pick up a rock, but can not actually FEEL it. He could feel the touch of her strands, could feel the sense of his pulling and altering them, but could not really feel that they were going along with the force he was applying to them. He watched her, ready to immediately stop her if she actually started to tear her feathers out. This was just a test after all. He would never forgive himself if he made someone disfigure themself who'd only been trying to help.
The half-breed continued to run a finger along her feathers, messing with the placement of some while leaving others as they were. For a moment it seemed as if nothing would happen until her eyes flashed with a sudden horror. Perhaps for a split trill, it would have looked like the magic was taking effect, but that idea would quickly be dashed as she opened her mouth. "My Primary!" She cried as her attention turned completely to one feather in particular. For the most part Night's feathers all looked to be beautiful and heavy, a testament to the care she put into them. But this feather had been bent in an awkward position when she'd been tied. The long and elegant looking feather, though not broken at the very least, was noticeably bent enough that it would cause serious difficulties with flying if the half-breed couldn't fix it.
There was no action or sound the half-breed had made up until this moment that even vaguely equaled the horror and the terror of her actions right now as she curled the wing closer and desperately tried to fix it, by no means tearing out her feathers or running away. It was a deeply wreathing and bone-chilling horror that came with a single feather being bent. But then again, it was a Primary. For any who understood the dynamics of birds, the importance of the primary couldn't be overstated. Also known as the first flight feathers there were only a couple on the ends of a wing. Without them, it became difficult or sometimes impossible to fly. Birds who could no longer fly since they were pets sometimes had the join or the follicles at the end of their wing destroyed, keeping them from growing their primaries. For any who had owned a bird, the effects were rather obvious, no more flying. If she did end up having this feather get destroyed it would take seasons for it to grow back, and in the meantime, she'd be grounded. Not permanently, but still a big problem for someone like Nightshade. There was a very valid reason for the horror on her expression that almost brought on tears as she desperately tried to flatten out the feather.
Eventually, as luck would have it for all parties involved, the feather did eventually flatten out properly, returning to its luxuriously straight and silky place where it would allow for flight. The body of the half-breed visibly sagged with relief, but she quickly realized where she was once more and straightened up a touch. "I... apologize for that," she said with a slight cough. Her face was tinged pink as she refused to make eye contact. "That was, just, uh, a really important feather," she flinched at just how stupid that phrase sounded when said out loud. She wasn't certain if they would understand the importance of the feather. There had to be winged mutants, but she wasn't sure how many had feathers or completely understood the importance of their feathers. She was a bit curious how many did though. She could always teach them. It was fun teaching others how to fly.
Cricci's attempts to manipulate her strands still went completely ignored as the disk never left her hand.
For several moments, Cricci's heart sank with sadness. Everything he'd seen from this avriel woman had impressed him. And now the thought that she was a fake, probably one sent to search out and mark the location of who he now thought of as his people, truly crushed his hopes.
He would, of course, have to kill her. He could not risk the lives of all these poor wretches, who'd only just recently come to feel the beginnings of safety and the possibility of rebuilding their lives, on the fools' hope that whoever had sent her would choose to leave them alone.
Her anxiety over that which she named as her "primary" fell right in line with the fear he had instilled in her. He could still not account for the odd lack of connection with her that he'd experienced, but he knew that any tick, she'd be backing away, wide-eyed with loathing and terror.
Except that she didn't...
'Any tick now' he said to himself, subconsciously trying to prompt events to match his anticipations, unhappy though they were. His noted his two subordinates looking the question at him. He gave only a slight shake of the head to them. He wanted nothing to be an outside reason for her to back away from them. He could not act if there was any doubt.
Though he was a man who had learned bitterly that unpleasant necessities could not be put off for the fact of their unpleasantness. He was not about to sink to the point of giving himself a reason to make that assumption. Her safety was as important to him as his townspeople's. Perhaps if she'd been a pure human, he might have been less cautious on her behalf. But he could well imagine the difficulties she'd endured, due to her race, to get even to the meager level of acceptance her presence here now suggested.
And even that did not truly confirm anything. He did not assume this duty fell upon the shoulders of someone genuinely popular in town. Clearly she'd earned some trust in pretty high places. But a job with such potential backlash, and necessary secrecy as this, would never be given to some 'Doran'-type. There would be nowhere to go but down for a celebrity like him. This job would only be given to someone who did not have far to fall.
He realized he'd fallen back into the emotional trap of feeling sympathy for her; feeling admiration and appreciation for taking on such an unwelcome task. But even as he steeled himself to shake off any regrets for what he knew he'd have to do, it occurred to him that she had still not actually done anything to support the initial indication that she'd fallen prey to his Empathic tactics.
If anything, she seemed to be getting over it. Yes, she was still messing with her feathers, something he'd taken as proof that she'd believed they were corrupted in some mutagenic way. But it steadily took on the reality of being nothing more than worry over kinks and misalignments caused by the ropes; something he realized he'd not considered.
Relief flooded through him to the point that when she remarked about the importance of that feather, he burst out into laughter. It was to credit of his two guards that they joined in. The naturally ruddy complexion of Cricci's face did not expose the embarrassment he felt, both for his initial suspicions, and his inability to stop laughing. It was not aided by the look on Night's face, as he struggled to get himself under control.
Waving to his guard to step back, he doubled over, placing his hands on his knees, now signalling to his 'guest" to give him just a bit to gain control of his laughter. "I'm so sorry, Miss Nightshade...Miss Eld...I truly am. And relieved! Oh yes, I'm so glad I misunderstood your upset right now. It followed all too closely the emotion I was trying to inflict upon you as a test. But I see now the actual basis of your concern was an entirely different thing."
He gestured to the road that led down into what appeared to be a dead lake, complete with rotting trees, and an ugly haze. "I am glad you are who you're supposed to be. I like you and I would have hated to think your sincerity and willingness to help us was a fake." He did not say what such a turn of events would have forced him to do, as he led her past the point where the Illusion broke into the truth of a clean, healthy community, populated by the most wondrous variety of citizens. He suspected she knew.
Instead, he smiled broadly as the truth of Lakewatch opened before her eyes. "Let me show you around. Let these people express their thanks to the one who made this all possible."
The woman looked confused for a moment when Cricci began to laugh, confusion painting her features. She couldn't help but tilt her head curiously as Cricci spoke, his words finally making sense out of the laughter that bubbled from his chest. "I'm sorry if I confused you? Primary feathers are extremely important things though if I lost one I wouldn't be able to fly until I molted and grew it back, which wouldn't happen for a couple more seasons at the least! I would be completely earthbound, and obviously, enough that could cause some severe issues," she said as a slight amount of crimson became more pronounced on her cheeks, desperate to try and explain her rather embarrassing panic over the potential loss of a single feather. She relaxed slightly as Cricci continued. Luckily all was well and feather had been straightened out properly, so there would be no issues flying home.
She turned her attention to the direction that Cricci motioned. There was a significant difference between the current appearance of the area and how it had looked when she scouted it out. The most jarring of all being how ugly it was in comparison, deathly and rotting. She knew that this was likely fake but her thoughts weren't confirmed till she passed a certain point, following along with Cricci. She nodded along quietly, understanding exactly what he would have had to do should the woman not have been who she said she was. As soon as the illusion broke her eyes widened slightly. She never saw the mutants as something ugly. She saw them each as something new and beautiful, some of which looked more amazing and beautiful than the people in Etzos by far. Perhaps it was just the woman looking through the lens which racism directed at her had provided for her, but there was something amazing and wonderful about the inhabitants of the town. Something that made her smile warmly as she gazed upon it.
"While I am more than happy to accept them, there's no need for thanks. It was my pleasure," she said with a gentle breath. There was obviously a lot more to her words than what was simply said. There was a certain weight that went along with the fact she had a rather similar understanding of what it was like to be one of these mutants. When she came to Etzos, thanks to her breed, she might as well have been one. It truly had been her pleasure.
