Glimpses 15.5 [aka 17] and 18

The first one should fix a continuity error. Takes place before the Dungeon meet.

Grohl  15.5/17   {takes place before 16}

Grohl silently tapped his fingers to the sounds in the room. Threnody, her words, weren’t important; she had a voice like a metal brush on a drum, rasping and with increasing vigor. As a musician, sounds were important in that they defined your relationship with the world. Music everywhere, calling, shaping the world, an extension of life, and not a mere profession or class-based tool.

The large book dropped beside his head didn’t make him jump, but it did ruin the rhythm. [Auditory Defense] was enough to protect his hearing. Too many musicians overlook it and end up with permanent hearing loss.

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!”  

There is that rasp again, and with good volume. Why had Ambrosia passed him off to this woman? Grohl focused on the words and not the sounds. Do this and get your singing angel back.

“Sorry, I got a hum in the drum that distracts me. Can you repeat that?”

The necromancer straightened her uniform. “House White has had threats due to the nature of our lady’s class. Part of the training we are initiating is one of improvement. While you’re maxed out on your musical profession, your class is at an appalling level one. It is time we rectify that for your safety and that of the house. In that respect, I am assigning you to a delve to gain levels in your security class.”

“That sounds like work.” Grohl groaned.

“Of course you’ll be paid for it. And because of your lack of fighting skills, I’ve also assigned a higher-level staff member to join you. Though they do need remedial training after an incident. Come in, Tess.”

Oh, a hum. The vibration was outside of hearing range for most people. Paired with it was a small click mixed with the thud of overly heavy footsteps. This girl who walked in, her body sang.  A new instrument? Grohl lunged forward, eyes so close to the strip of camouflaged metal that went up the inner thigh. He touched the metal to feel the vibration.

“Nice tone with minimal variations to the vibration?”

“Mr. Grohl, unhand that woman! This is not how you greet coworkers!”

“Oh, dear, you can hear that? I’ll have to figure out a way to properly mask it for stealth mode. It was always a design flaw.”

“Flaw? No. I want to know if you can make it available for all to hear, and modify it on command.” Grohl ran his finger up and down the metal, imagining how he could use this.

“The whine was one of the reasons why my projects were moved to the shed. I suppose with the right input and material, one could adapt the energy channels to do what you ask.” Tess mused, already caught up in how to engineer the request.

“Sir, unhand her!” Threnody continued even as the drummer tuned her back into the rasp.

“It’s okay, he’s only admiring my construction. It’s good to know someone appreciates my work.”

Thernody stammered a bit, reining in control of herself. “You’re already here because of your work. You assaulted a guest, and your last creations exploded.”

“That version was too new. This one has all the glitches smoothed out. Trust me.”  

Grohl tapped on the metal hard enough that she could feel it. It was a non-malicious skill amplifying the vibrations created by the power running through the brace. Dance, it screamed, and made her want to squirm a little. Luckily, she was locked in place and only had to suffer from the feelings and not the act.  There was no way she would let Threnody embarrass her further.

“We are going to make such great music together!” Grohl declared, oblivious to it all as he beat on the other thigh, testing for differences.

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Queens Hand  One- Five- Three -18

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Knives. Knives in her eyes. Knives in her soul. Overwriting the temporary identity was killing a part of her soul. There were mental skills that could temporarily alter your personality, make you believe you were the role you were adopting. None of those managed to sniff the hiring process at this so-called House White.

What was required was cramming your whole soul and identity into a box, then overwriting what was there with a new, pre-set spiritual energy composite. At least that is what had been explained to her. Not everyone survived the process, but this was the third time she’d come out of such a state. It was never pleasant and required the abandonment of the entirety of the experiences the cover had participated in.

“One Five Three. One Five Three. One Five Three.”  She whispered her designation to help settle back into her body and soul container. “I am me.”

The woman opened her eyes to pitch blackness. Sensations came next. Constricted on all sides. [Unholy Strength] She shoved against the wood. It strained, compressing enough to leave handprints she could feel on the surface, but it did not bend or break.

“Mindy, was it? I suppose you wouldn’t know.”

That voice. Calm. To the point. Bored almost. They had recordings of all the key players. Dossiers to memorize. Histories to go over for when she woke up.  

[Sweet Lies] “Bates, you have to help me! I’m trapped. I don’t know what’s going on.”

The head butler was said to have a soft heart, making hires at Coodly house that no other aristocrat would make and then giving people multiple chances when they made mistakes. Burn it all down, he hired that Necromancer. Even considering Lady Coodly’s prophetic dalliances, this man vetoed many of the woman’s so-called “next great savior” potential hires. The years of records set a good profile for how to manipulate the man, even with a history that only started when he emigrated to Hazeldown thirty years ago.  “

Help?” She squeezed out with extra quivering

“You disappeared while clearing out one of our properties. Countess Maye ensured we got many properties in some of the more dangerous locations. The rat pack has claimed credit. Anything to lend credibility to how they claim to be a dangerous and powerful influence in the city. I’d ask you questions, but that has never ended well for a Hand.”

“Hand!  I don’t know what you’re talking about?”  One Five Three, insisted, letting real desperation and fear leak into her fake one.

“It’s okay. I have plenty of time to listen. If you want, you can tell me your designation. That, at least, doesn’t trigger your self-destruction implants.”

They could hear each other. There must be a way out! The hand of the queen worked harder on escaping the container she was in.  It was futile.

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