Godslost Hollow

Landing a ship alone, Moira had found, was no easy task. It had taken a considerable amount of effort to anchor The Taste of Sugar off the coast and lower the boat on her own, but she'd managed. One didn't become a masked agent of Isra's infamous Department of Anomaly Containment without being resourceful, after all. Once she'd managed to make landfall, she'd immediately spotted smoke rising off in the distance and began making her way inland. Friendly or not, it had been a while since she'd seen another living person. The thought that it might not be people that she met crossed her mind, but she decided that it would still be better than nothing.

After some walking, Moira found herself at the edge of some sort of camp. Skulking quietly at the edge of the treeline, she watched as laborers milled about between tents and cooking fires. The visible differences between the fancy and mundane tents told a tale of the command structure of this group, but it seemed organized enough. After assuring herself that they seemed like reasonable enough people (primarily making sure that they were not currently skinning and sacrificing any maidens to some apocalyptic god,) she decided to make herself known. Stepping out of the trees, she strolled into the camp, looking for any sort of authority figure who'd be able to offer some kind of information. Who knew, perhaps they'd have some food here. It had been a while since she'd eaten last, and longer still since she'd had anything good. Her glass eye was still bothering her, and she rubbed at it absently with a handkerchief. It tingled and blurred, but was still at least better than an empty socket. At least the enchantments hadn't completely worn off.

The speed at which the guards noticed a newcomer told a tale of a small, likely close-knit community. Moira filed the tidbit away as she lifted her hands up in front of her, palms out in the universal sign of submission. If they'd been in the habit of shooting newcomers, they would have done so already. The fact that they'd stopped her instead suggested that she was unlikely to be killed if she played along, and so she saw no harm in surrendering to these people. The worst they could do was turn her away or imprison her, and she was fairly confident in her ability to escape any sort of makeshift incarceration they put her into. She gave the scarred woman a bright smile, one that she'd practiced for years to perfect. Innocent, pretty, and entirely fake.

"I suppose I'm as lost as anyone could be," she said, eyes flicking between the armed guards. "I was lost at sea for who knows how long. It's a miracle that I found any land at all, much less an inhabited one. Do you have any better idea of where we are than I do? I'd love to hear it."

Judging by the condition of the camp, Moira was fairly certain that the group hadn't been here for much longer than she had. More new arrivals, then. Castaways or colonists? Had every land been consumed by the flooding, or just Isra?

"I just thought that my best chances would be to find other people," she said, gaze flicking up and down the scarred woman's body as she looked for her weapons. "I saw the smoke from your fires and headed towards it. Seemed a smarter idea than trying to wander through the wilderness on my own, don't you think?"

The level of caution spoke to some amount of threat to the camp, a fact that Moira made careful note of. Were there other settlements out there, perhaps? Or maybe there was some other less mundane danger out there, something that took the shape and face of a human. Regardless, Moira decided that this camp seemed safe enough (at least from outside threats). Whether these people would slit her throat as she slept was another matter entirely, but one she could deal with later. Whatever the danger was, Ava seemed to have a low opinion of the island. She gave her another perfectly rehearsed smile, pulling a short knife from her belt. Passing the knife from one hand to the other, she turned it around and held it out handle-first towards Ava. The motion was purposely clumsy, feigning unfamiliarity with blades. It never hurt to hide her skills around strangers, after all. She pulled a second knife from her boot, taking longer than she ordinarily would, and offered it up as well. She left her third knife concealed, the thin blade nestled vertically between her shoulderblades. The intricate sheath laid against her skin beneath her shirt, strapped carefully to her torso with the handle down. A hidden slit in the back of her shirt would allow her to draw the knife quickly if needed, but with any luck it wouldn't be necessary. Facing Ava as she was, the knife would be impossible to spot. Hopefully, the surrender of her "hidden" boot knife would keep the suspicion at bay. If they found that...well, she'd have to figure something out.

"A clown's far from the worst thing I've been called," she said, holding the knives out for Ava to take. "But it seems that we've got a lot more to sort out than just one castaway. Where are we, anyways? And who are you people? I don't suppose you're from around here, are you? Are you the only ones left?"

Innocent and harmless, Moira decided, would be the way to go with these people. It was easier to hide things and reveal them later than accidentally tip her hand too much and try to come up with excuses. Who knew, perhaps they'd be useful to her. Maybe they'd have someone worth talking to who knew something about the whole situation. If not...well, two knives was an acceptable price to pay for the information she'd already gotten. She had plenty more on the ship.

"I'm told it's one of my weaknesses," replied Moira, still smiling placidly.

She followed Ava through the camp, glancing from side to side as she took in her surroundings. She counted people as she walked, keeping a mental tally of guards, mages, and anyone else who looked useful. It was a habit of hers, something to keep her occupied when she otherwise would have been idle. There was no such thing as having too much information, after all. There was always a chance that she'd find herself fighting against these people, and knowing so it paid to pay attention now. The words of her instructor rang in her ears, still as clear and crisp as when she'd first heard them years ago. People are like horses, the man had told her. Use them wisely and treat them kindly, but don't hesitate to put them down once their usefulness has ended. Licking her lips, she recalled her crewmates on The Taste of Sugar and smiled. Their usefulness had continued long after their lives had been extinguished.

As Ava explained what she knew about the island, Moira nodded along thoughtfully. Loyal vassals to a noble house...but how long would the loyalty last in this new, unfamiliar land? She wondered how long it would be before starvation drove the people to rebellion against their masters, realizing that any power they had once held was now merely imaginary...or was it? Did the mysterious twins possess some sort of artifact or magical ability? It was all rather intriguing, but none of it was especially relevant to her at the moment. It was interesting to note that Ava considered herself to be a member of the estate, which suggested that her loyalty ran deeper than a mere paycheck. The name of Godslost Hollow brought a smirk to her painted lips, and she chuckled. At least these people had a sense of humor.

The signs of other landings on the island were promising, and Moira wondered if anyone she knew had survived the flooding. Anybody in the underground laboratories of Ettinger's Asylum were sure to have drowned, but perhaps some field agents had made it. Their survival was their own problem, though. Right now, she had to focus on her own. As the magister ogled her, Moira winked back, sticking out her tongue at the woman before she was shooed away. They didn't get newcomers here often, it seemed.

"Who am I?" repeated Moira, turning back to Ava. "My name's Moira Blaine. I was...a secretary. To a government minister. I don't know anything about Fellhaven, so I don't suppose you would have heard of the Isran Empire. That's where I'm from, anyways. I managed to survive the floods and the mists by jumping onto a ship just before the floodwaters swept over the docks and snapped the mooring. Good thing I was near the docks, hmm? I guess it's just lucky chance that I survived and drifted here. Thankfully, the ship was stocked up for a journey. Lucky me, I suppose."

The lies slipped from her lips as easily as a favorite song, and she hoped that her innocent, wide-eyed act would lend credence to her tale. If she ended up meeting with someone important, perhaps she'd reveal some of her more useful skills...but she'd spent enough time pretending to be a secretary that a little longer wouldn't hurt. Ava would almost certainly wonder what kind of secretarial duties she actually performed, but that wasn't her problem. If it did become a problem...well, she'd just have to handle it. Moira was good at handling problems.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, gesturing vaguely to the camp around her. "It looks like you're set up pretty comfortably — as far as castaways go, at least."

"Isra." Ava repeated. "Can't say that I do."

Her eyes narrowed at Moira's account of her time here. It seemed harmless enough, sure, but there were enough 'lucky' happenstances strung together after one another to trigger Ava's distrust. It was all a bit too convenient, she thought. Ava was a naturally distrustful person, but it was her job to be. There were some that might equate her instincts to paranoia - but at the end of the day, it was paranoia that keeps people breathing. 

"We've only been holed up here a couple weeks. We're just getting our feet wet here, proverbially speaking." The Estate had a handful of irons in the fire, and the higher-ups were eager for their forces to become fully operational. Julius and Eliza could hardly be called slave-drivers - it was just as inconvenient for them to have an exhausted workforce, after all - but neither too did they tolerate inefficiency beyond a reasonable threshold. "I reckon it won't be long before we outgrow this little camp, but that's neither here nor there."

The woman shifted her weight, looking the trespasser up and down. "Well, Moira... Now that you're here, what do you propose we do with you?"

Following Moira's answer, Ava's attention was stolen by the signal of a magister, the footfalls of various members of the estate padding towards the front gate. Her eyes narrowed again, grunting softly before lifting herself up and glancing at the commotion. 

"Aren't we popular today." The woman whistled, beckoning two guards over to the tent to watch over their visitor. "Stay put," she commanded with a cold glare in Moira's direction.

---

The strange tower of a man was met with a near identical view as Moira did not long before - one brimming with a multitude of arrowpoints and blanket distrust. Ava approached lazily, taking a few steps forward but keeping her distance from the figure and the smoke billowing from his footsteps. This man was dressed to kill, as if he hadn't in fact been recently deposited on a hostile, unforgiving archipelago - and beyond that, that bleach-white skin gave her the impression that he had only just been dug up from the ground.

If Moira was the picture of innocence, then he was the exact opposite. She couldn't decide which of the two unsettled her more.

Ava spit out the now-stripped twig she had been rolling between her teeth. "And exactly who are you supposed to be?"

The woman that sauntered into his view bristled with hostility, and not just the literal variety of half a dozen bolts aimed for his person. Who was he supposed to be? Supposed to be? He was supposed to be in his castle, in his laboratory, seeing the faces of humans such as this only when he needed to feed. That was who he was supposed to be. At the moment, however... He bowed, slightly, including at his waist as he crossed an arm over his chest, grasping the velvet edge of his mantle. It wasn't a full, sweeping bow, but it did offer some modicum of respect. Straightening, he glanced over the archers, the movement of his eyes glacially slow, as if committing them each to memory before he settled upon the form of Ava. 

"I am Lord Mykola Volkh." the vampire replied, his voice barely above a whisper, but clearly audible, even above the din of the camp and the distance between them. "I find myself in an unfamiliar land, and seek to regain my bearings. You will forgive me for intruding, but you seem to be the first sign of civilized life I've managed to come across." his voice almost had an edge on the world 'civilized' but it was a fleeting effect, difficult to notice as he pressed onwards. 

"My situation is as such that we may be able to negotiate some kind of alliance, if I may speak with those above you." His glassy, dead eyes focused on the woman before him. A strong, fearless heartbeat. Impressive, in its own right. Not like the men that crowded around her. Yes, she was the one to speak to about such things.

Though Volkh held the power to sense the rhythm of one's heart, the dissonance of the pair emerging from the forest behind him may have proven to be... quite puzzling. The man stood there with no heartbeat at all, and as for the woman... it was wrong, somehow. Her heartbeat was far too slow, abnormal in some way, as if its pipes and valves were twisted several times over one another. And the blood flowing through her veins was... it was loud.

She stood before him, her clothes cut in several places to reveal a dozen nicks and cuts of various sizes - claw marks, bites, and lacerations of all kinds. Despite the wounds, she stood tall, seemingly unbothered, and with an undisputed air of regality that was felt across each and every guard that stood in formation at the gate of the colony. She looked upon Volkh, and greeted him with a warm smile. 

"My Lord Volkh, it is an honor and a pleasure. I can say with complete honesty that I look forward to making your acquaintance - just as soon as I am able to rid myself of these vestments. This island has not been kind, as I am sure you will understand." The sorceress bowed deeply, drawing upon every social grace in her arsenal in the presence of the vampire lord.

"I am Lady Eliza Winterlight, Exemplar of the Winterlight Estate of Lychcroft. Please, accept my invitation to accompany me within our encampment." She beckoned forward with a wave of her hand, turning next to her disheveled companion. "And that goes for you as well, dear," Eliza said plainly with a quick wink.