Welcome to Gaia! ::

(( Note: Caoi never sent out a text to anyone; she doesn't own a cell phone. Please contact her via Dustin. Or smoke signals. Or show up here because you felt a tingly, magical disturbance in the force. ))


After running to the HQ in search of answers, Caoimhe and Gristla returned home less than an hour later. It was clear from one look at the building that nothing of use would be found there, at least not tonight. The selkie youth was shaking from her rude awakening, fingers working tiny circles across her chest. She had felt a snap; she had felt Gristla wrenched away from her. Is this what Conrad had been warning her about all this time? Her eyes flickered to the tigress who was curled at the other end of the couch, large head resting on Caoimhe's knees. Ever since the encounter, they had been unwilling to break physical contact with one another, as if they could somehow will their bond back into place. Like so many things that came along with being a Fa'e, Caoi could understand the gravity of what had happened without anyone having to explain it to her.

Gristla stirred, liftly her head slightly from her former ward's legs. The chill that rushed in was unbearable. Cub, she began, opting for thoughtspeak to spare her wounded throat, are you... okay? Do you feel... like you are...? Despite chats with Conrad and other guardians, Gristla had no idea how this how "fading" thing worked, or how quickly it could happen. Her heart would not stop beating, chest bursting outward like a balloon. What could she do to save Caoimhe?

Curling both arms across the cotton front of her long-sleeved tunic, Caoimhe shrugged, a weak gesture, hopeless. "I feel fine," she lied. What good would it do to worry Gristla? What Caoimhe needed was a conference with the other Fa'e. She needed one of them to explain all of this to her. What about... the Lethe girl? Hadn't she mentioned something about fading? It had been so long ago; Caoi could not recall the memory.

Mrs. Kates came over. She was an excellent crisis manager. The older woman didn't ask a single question, but instead went right to the kitchen and began to cook up every manner of sweet and savory dish she possibly could. The kitchen counter was covered in dishes of varying shape, size, and aroma in no time, but Gristla couldn't eat. Caoimhe munched slowly on some toasted garlic bread, but it did nothing to fill her stomach. The little beach shack (a far cry from the splendor of the beach house she'd rented for her birthday) on Gambino Isle felt hollow, empty, listless. But it was the hollow echo in her chest that had the girl shivering.

Worst of all: was this just the beginning of something much worse?

Caoimhe had been up for several hours and had only moved from the couch to pee, brush her teeth, and show this weird paper to Gristla and Mrs. Kates. She half-assumed it was one of them, but then it said all this weird crap in unfamiliar handwriting. When Dustin made his way down the stairs, she lifted her chin in greeting, holding to her spot by Gristla. Eventually, she would get up from the spot, but she feared taking even a single step in the opposite direction. Her guardian... or not her guardian? Damnit, Caoimhe had no idea.

She waited for Dustin to have a few bites before speaking, "I woke up with a riddle in my hand. Did you do it?" The selkie youth hoped he would say that he had, she really did. With all the weird stuff going on, the idea that something had slipped into her home while she was sleeping long enough to tuck a piece of paper in her hand was a little bothersome. Dustin hadn't made it in until late that night, and he hadn't said much about his own guardian. Caoimhe had no intention of prying.

Slipping her legs out from under Gristla, she crossed to the counter, grabbing a deviled egg and taking a bite. Mrs. Kates smiled at the pair of them. "Go on and eat your fill, kids," she said, eyes crinkling in the corners. The older woman wiped two greasy hands on her shirt and then left the small half-kitchen, filling the seat on the couch that Caoimhe had just left.

With the semi-privacy of a few feet of space, Caoimhe leaned in toward Dustin. She chewed thoughtfully, juice leaking out of the corner of her mouth. After a few swallows, she remembered her first question. "The paper. You did that, right? That was you?" A hopeful note entered her voice, eyes flickering back to the couch where Gristla sat. She shivered involuntarily and shifted her weight to try and hide it.

Lifting some kind of roasted pepper, she took a slow bite, her usual voracity momentarily abated. Caoimhe wasn't much of a thinker, and she was counting on Dustin to know just what was going on -- and to have been responsible for the paper-in-hand in the first place. She narrowed her eyes when he seemed to deny having been the one behind it, but softened when he asked to see it.

It was a bit small, but Caoimhe had willed herself not to crumple it up as she did most tiny bits of paper, worrying the edges until white began to flake off. Crossing to where Dustin had taken a seat, Caoi remained standing, ever-conscious of her tiny chances at a height advantage. "Here," she said and handed him the paper.



When he took it, she slid around to the back of the chair and leaned over, reading the paper as he did. After a few moments, she repeated her sentiment from earlier. "So... you put this in my hand, right?" It was a stupid joke, but a joke. It had to be. Caoimhe had never dealt with Chaos before, but if its arrival meant more of the pain she'd already felt between her and Gristla, she wanted it to just go away.

Dusty didn't puzzle over the paper long - enough to read it, a second time to make sure he'd really read what he read, and then he shrugged and passed it back. "Wasn't me." He had bigger things on his mind, after all.

In his pocket, his phone - well, Arrien's, actually, his was lost to the HQ - buzzed. Naolin must have finally texted back. Pulling the purple flip-phone out and opening it up, Dusty read, furrowed his brow, and then tilted the phone to show to Caoimhe as well:



"That one wasn't me, either," he assured his friend, just in case she still found him suspicious. There came a knock at the door then, but Dusty couldn't even feign interest. He was involved with sending a reply, and wondering if he ought to head back to where he'd slept and see if he could find that piece of paper....

"Hey." He said in turn, more calmly than he felt - years of keeping himself more or less contained were of use right now - and he stepped inside when the selkie allowed himself to pass, bending over to take off his shoes less he get mud and sand all over the house. By doing so, however, he saw a black-furred form sitting there. Dustin ! Thank goodness...

"Hey, Dusty." He offered the deerkitten as he straightened again, biting at his lip in a nervous gesture probably acquired from Raven. "Are you... are the both of you allright ? Your guardians ?" He had to make sure, at the very least. And if they were not... at least spread in the information he remembered so it could be useful. So that there could be a chance to save them.

Oblivious to most things in that precious wide-eyed way that babies often are, Caoimhe barely watched Dustin go, saying only, "Yeah, you should probably try to find that." When he passed by, she glanced back up to Sei. It was comforting to have another Fa'e here, especially one that she liked. Sei had come to her birthday party, and despite the hell that had broken loose, he didn't seem to hold anything against Caoimhe. All of these were Good Things.

She thought of Gristla, of the feeling of a tendon snapping between her chest, and rubbed absent-mindedly at the spot. Lowering her voice, she looked up at Sei through a fringe of lashes and said, "She's... okay. Blind right now. I don't know if it's permanent. I was woken up out of a dead sleep with these feelings like someone was cutting something out of my chest." Her fingers tapped against her collarbone, emphasizing the shocking pain. "I ran downstairs to Gristla. I don't know how I knew it was her that needed help. There were these black tendril... things... all over her. I jumped on her and did this new thing I do know where I can make a... bubble thing. And it repels things." Caoimhe's new powers were just that: new. She was still getting the hang of it, and it was more or less a miracle that she had even been able to produce a protective one around she and Gristla when it was needed.

Raking one hand through a tangle of brown curls, she took a seat at a stool by the kitchen counter. "I don't think we're connected like we used to be." She shrugged, but it was a sad gesture, like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. And in the girl's mind, it kind of did. Gristla was the only maternal figure she had ever known, aside from Mrs. Kates, and she didn't want to lose her. More importantly, she didn't want to lose herself. Caoimhe had no idea how progessive this fading business was, but she had heard enough Fa'e talked about it under hushed breath that she knew it had to be Very Bad. "What about yours?" she ventured. There was no tenderness in her voice, just a need to know. She twirled a curl of hair idly around one finger.

Definitely not a conversation Dusty was unhappy to miss, he judged as he re-entered the room. It hadn't taken him long to find the crumpled bit of paper he'd discarded upon waking up, and his composure, well... as long as he could keep it out of his voice, he'd be fine. Dark fur hid things well, after all.

"Here," he said tonelessly, passing the paper to Caoimhe:



"It's a stupid one," Dusty mumbled. "I dunno what it's talking about at all. I don't even like turnips."

It seemed to take a moment, or perhaps Caoihme's inquiring gaze, for Sei to apparently notice, but once he had, he took at look at it.

"None of them make any sense." He muttered, looking over to take a peek at Dusty's paper. "...Turnips ? Don't people usually carve pumpkins ?"

Strange. Maybe they just made no sense... He had seen quite a few, but nothing seemed to leap out at his mind to tie them all together.

His free hand went to his jacket pocket, and he pulled out his own note.



"Everyone's got one, as far as I know... and the same dream. And some are written differently. I think I've seen... 3 different handwritings ? Well, two or three. Looks like mine and Dusty's are the same..."

He pondered the selkie's last question, but... "I don't know. I don't know at all." Airi... might know how to bond Caoi back to her guardian, maybe. She seemed wise beyond her years.