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Easter stared a good long time. And then stared some more. If she hadn't been holding a baby she'd traded for with a tarot card she wasn't quite sure she'd have believed it, even with her extensive background in reading faerie tales. Hoping such things took place in the world didn't make them happen, but perhaps it did. Normal children just didn't do such things, but Egan for sure was far from normal. He was...How was it put? Easter herself from dreams and other worlds? She couldn't quite remember the words well, but she tried to remember the meaning to them. Egan was an important part of her life now, and had to be well cared for. Egan himself watched attentively and quitely, taking in the sights of Miaka's transformation. Just what he thought about this occurence, Easter wasn't sure of. But perhaps this would one day happen to him as well.

The dry dust of the Boneyard slowly turned into the tightly packed clay of the stables as Eli trudged along. He noticed Lyra was now fixated on the little spool of thread she'd always had. Curiousity could wait no longer. "May I see?" he asked, reaching for the spool. As he attempted to take it, Lyra's quiet demeanor left the building as a pitiful wail escaped from her tiny frame. "Ah! Wait, here, yew c'n have it back!" Eli exlaimed, quickly putting the spool back into the infant's grasp. Her tantrum ended as abruptly as it'd started as she hugged the thread close to her chest, looking up at him distrustfully.

"Well, yew shoulda say'd somethin' if'n it was gonna be tha' much of a probl'm," Eli replied awkwardly, adding, "Hey, message receive'. Don't take yer spool... thingy." He pinched Lyra's little button nose and forced a smile for her. He was glad to see her smile back, though he noticed she was still tense and protective of her relic.

The sun rose steadily outside, setting the city on fire with its harsh light.

Long pale streaks reached past the mottled, moth-eaten curtains pinned up hazardly to cover the cracks in the wooden walls of the room. They crept silently across the floor, reaching for the crooked bed located in the farthest reaches of the musty, salt-crusted place. The wooden frame groaned loudly, echoed by a disgruntled voice.

The floor protested, the boards creaking as the large man dragged himself from the noisy bed, not realizing he was bringing his thin grey blanket with him as it slowly untangled itself from him to drop, ignored, to the ground halfway across the room. The large man shuffled to the door, leaned sleepily against its frame, the old wood loudly bending under his weight. He breathed in heavily with a yawn, not bothering to brush the crust from his eyes as he groped blindly for his vest, an item he had left discarded on a chair near the door some time during the night before. He couldn't remember when.

He nearly left the room without collecting his most prized possession, but a hand reached out to grab the doorframe before he made it too far out, an action that had not been planned nor taken into consideration by the rest of his body, and thus nearly sent him toppling. He turned on the heel of one booted foot (the heel was starting to come apart from the rest of the boot, he would have to buy some glue if he could) and marched back inside, plucking a proud black hat from a broken coathanger near the door, adjusting the crooked purple feather before plopping it on his head. He took a moment to adjust his grey hair before attempting to make his entrance into the world a second time.

He made his way proudly to his station, standing above the rest of the ship. He stomped his feet apart, planting his fists proudly on his hips. "All 'ands on deck. 'Oist theh sales, boys! Weigh anchor! We set sail t'day. Cabin boyo, fetch me'e fresh bottle o' whiskey fer the journey! Make haste!"

Nobody was there to answer.

---

Zasar clenched his hat between his teeth long enough so that he could sweep his grey hair back with his hands, tying it back from his face with a thin cord. He nodded his head cheerfully to the other residents of the docks as he passed them, receiving their usual, awkward stares without even a falter in his step.

He headed up, away from the water and into town. His stomach roared at him. Oof. He needed some food. As if his body had more instinct than his mind, he began to wander north towards the Kensington District, calloused hands slipping into the pockets of his greying pants as his head turned slowly to one side to stare with a glazed expression. His lack of attention nearly caused him to walk straight into more than one person, and thrice that in the number of inanimate objects, however that didn't seem to deter him in his choice of route as he ambled along, chewing on his tongue absently as he went and pausing only to spit and scuff his worn boots against the cobblestone.

It was his inattentiveness that caused him to fall into a scattered crowd of people walking perpendicular to his current route, and thus he was completely unaware of his change of direction, ambling eastwards towards the university. He hadn't a mind enough to wonder what was attracting the commoners there. Besides, one would suppose it wouldn't be long before he lost track of the crowd anyway, and knowing Zasar, he would probably just end up wandering in a large, lazy circle around the harbour until his hunger became too much to bear and he began heading in a chosen direction with slightly more purpose to his step. He whistled cheerfully until then.

There wasn't much for the younger Chou sister to do really, but a sharp 'twang' straightened her spine, an impulse she knew well, as she turned to her sister. She was rigid, nervous, she didn't even need to know what was going on because she already could see what could've caused her sister's body to freeze on spot.

Surrounded by such children and the exciting event that bestowed upon her sister's child, she didn't even notice the extra standing in the audience.
Choosing her words carefully, Yami opened her mouth to speak, a warm smile crossing her face, but her insides on edge. She had the feeling they were being stalked but never acted upon that feeling.

Everyone seemed too much like an enemy (which brings into question why she was so easily distracted by the small child against this thinking), especially suspicious characters that stalk them. Yami felt the need to call out to her sister, tell her to grab her child, forget the others and run. But she swallowed back that command, trying to read this woman before them.

"May I help you?" she finally managed to smoothly say. The words wanted to burst out of her mouth, but she kept calm, confident. She knew what to do if things went wrong.

Fae chewed her lip for a moment, taking in what Kaley had said. If she stayed in the shadows of the buildings, in the back of the crowds...she could, maybe, mix something to splash at the guards that would sting the eyes, and...

You've gone mad, Fae...throwing your lot in with a guard.

She remembered the dagger in her boot, but quickly pushed the thought aside. That would do about as much good as poking a lion with a sewing pin. Reluctantly, but with no other choice that she could see, she started off behind Kaley. If worse came to worse, she could always run once she had flung a few stones.

"I have your word?" She asked quietly as she fell into step behind the guard. "A few thrown stones in exchange for my freedom, and...'food' left in the Boneyard after dark?"

Easter tensed up as the bright pink child approached her with it's winning smile and light playful eyes, with no regards to how life was expected to be around here. Egan, maintained his firm clasp on her arm, as a source of comfort? Guidance? Out of his own fear? He'd been the one interested in the first place, hadn't he?

By the time Easter had snapped out of her internal dialogue the bright child was standing before her demanding with all her charm to see Egan. A clumsy "Um." was all that Easter could manage before heading back to her mind to deliberate. 'Should I trust this kid? Egan doesn't mind her it seems....He's never led me into a trap thus far, despite being a physical handicap.' "I suppose..." Easter crouched herself down on one knee. Poised to stand in case she'd have to make a quick getaway. 'What are you doing Easter?! You can't go trusting people! They only want what you have and will take it! How in the world could this little thing grab Egan? She's smaller than I am and I have enough issues carrying him.'

Egan looked up at Easter, and when satisfied with what he saw he turned his attention back towards the new child. "Blanhhm." It was a simple greeting Easter assumed, and looking at the two of them, it crept up on Easter that this child could possibly be like her Egan. That that quiet woman over there had had the same fantastical experience she had with strange rooms filled with people and music that appeared where they really weren't. She hadn't even considered that someone else in this horrible town could have been given the same strange responsibilities. How many other people were out there with children that weren't really children? Easter found herself wishing for Egan to grow quicker than she ever had before. He would be her way out of this hellish town, she knew it.

A series of heavy locks turned behind the gate of the University. Peace Enforcement officers, armed with crossbows, stood ready atop the stone wall of the campus as the first cargo-laden wagon entered the street. Following it came another two dozen large wooden wagons, each loaded with supplies kept beneath heavy canvas. The carts were driven by teams of horses, and flanked on either side by the private armies of the Marsalles families.

The stretch of road that lay between the University gates and the Marsalles district was less than a mile, yet it seemed as though all of Wynander's citizens were crammed into this short space. A crowd of people stood on the sides of the street, forming a thick tangle of human arms, all reaching towards the wagons as they passed. Women and men cried out for mercy, praying that the wagon-drivers might be kind enough to toss some supplies into the hungry crowd.

Despite their desperation, however, the people were kept at bay by the sight of drawn swords and other weapons carried by the hired guards. Tension mounted until an elderly woman threw herself towards the edge of a wagon, clawing at its wooden wall in an attempt to climb its side. She was quickly cut down by a hired soldier, who ended the whole affair in a mere seconds before returning to his post by the cargo. Another guard dragged the limp body out of the way of the wagon's wheels, letting blood pool at the feet of the gathered crowd.

[ . . . ]

"Look at that! Goodness, he didn't even have a second thought before he killed that poor woman," Adalei whispered, her shoulders trembling as she clutched Elliot's side.

The pair stood in an alleyway leading to the street, with a mass of many other people attempting to fit in the same space. All around them hung the stench of human sweat, their conversation masked by yells and cries from the crowd.

"Hm, did you say something?" Elliot asked.

"We haven't come up with a plan at all!" Adalei said, tip-toeing so her mouth was closer to his ear. "Let's not get involved today. This thing is out of control; we cold get hurt just standing here. Come on, I don't want to be around all of these people."

Though she tugged at him, her efforts were handicapped by the press of people around them. "Wait, I don't want to go," Elliot responded, shrugging off her arm. "I want to see what's going to happen. The emotions here are amazing." He closed his eyes, as though to tune his mind to some deep rhythm. "Everyone is scared for their life, even those soldiers. There's going to be some bloody action today, but I don't know why you're so panicked--" He paused, leaning so that his eyes were level with Adalei's. "I'll keep you safe, even if the whole world goes mad."