Epilogues (All)

All,

Let's have one epilogue thread to suss out what happens with the ongoing threats and quests.

Edmund / Syd,

How is the trip back to The Tower? Is Princy alive or dead? Does Edmund return to his life as a butler, bringing back Parker, Paisley, and Janelle to serve alongside him? What happened to Lucius?

Litch,

Are you able to brave the abyss and retrieve the cure for Aloe? What price did you and the Talons pay?

Helix,

Do you choose to join the Talons or return to your life of solitude? Do you make peace with Hard Strike? Do you reconcile with Lucky Strike?

Our infiltration of the Library was successful, though not without casualty. Nobody perished, but I could have killed Jackdaw myself for his brash foolishness. That imbecile tried to slip away with his own take, separate from our intended goal and he tripped the alarm sensor. The fool took three gunshot wounds in the process as we made our escape with both the book and the old fellow that Lucky charged us with retrieving. Alas, none were fatal, though it was enough to make him a liability for our voyage to the Abyss. And he kept half of the items he tried to steal. Some folks just have the luck of all the gods with them. Curse his greedy eyes.

I wish the actual journey beyond the veil was uneventful, but of course it rained the entire time and we were beset both by groups of the Shark Eaters, as well as Rafters. The former group seemed to merely desire to keep us away from their sacred waters. Some sort of burial depths, I suppose. We avoided them, but it made our trip longer. The Rafters wanted me in particular. Bastards. They aren't much use in a fight unless there's at least twenty of them, and their shooting isn't worth a damn. The blasted rain actually provided us a bit of cover, though it didn't life our spirits much.

Eventually, Canary piloted us through the mists. Honestly, we couldn't tell the difference between here and there except that the Abyss doesn't have rain...or much sound. Everything was muted: sounds, colors, even the air smelled different. Not like death, as I supposed it would have felt. Just...different. Like wet earth. Which, by the way, there is a lot of. That surprised us all. We weren't anticipating an amphibious journey. And we didn't have the right gear for it. But, 'twas a strange sort of pleasant to walk on solid ground for miles.

It was rather easy to find the flowers for Aloe. Not much vegetation grows in the Abyss. A bit of grass, but no trees. That wasn't a disappointment to any of us. We have no trees in our home world either. We also don't have the shades of the dead walking everywhere. That was something we anticipated, but it didn't make us less uneasy. The souls of the damned, those without a protection of the Grey Wing, left to wander for eternity. They left us alone. Well, they left me alone. They seemed rather taken by Helix. They could see her, talk with her, and she them. I knew she was special. The Voice of the Tempest is a lovelier title than the Speaker of the Dead. But both apply.

As I said, finding the flowers was simple. Retrieving them...well, that's when we suddenly became visible to the Shades. Visible and targeted. How do you kill what is already dead? And in their own world no less? They surrounded us, cut us off from the Merrimac. In truth, the Talons were cut off from Helix and Lucky. I know not what they saw or experienced. The Shades demanded payment from us, threatening to take my children...all of my children in return for the plants to save Aloe. A life for a life. Is what they said, even while taking three from me in return for one. Bloody spirits can't count, it seems.

Shrike was prepared to sacrifice herself. Volunteered actually. But I overruled her. She's young and her daughter still needs her. My children also have their entire lives ahead of them. No, there was already one of us with a foot already in the grave. Of course, I was ready to sacrifice myself. Planned to, in fact. Kestrel didn't like it. Also offered to stay with me. But...my children, while adults now, still need a guide: physically and spiritually. No, only one should remain behind. That person is me.

Our parting, with my Talons, my children, my bride, might have been the holiest, most beautiful thing I've ever experienced. Fitting that it comes at the end. Oh, aye, I'm still here, writing my version of memoirs aboard the Merrimac. I'm nearly finished now, and it's a good thing too. My damned wrist is cramping and the ink is run dry. This diary, sad and short that it is, will return with my faithful along with their new High Druid - Kestrel of course.

And me? Well I don't want to be the one living soul wandering forever amongst the dead. No, I'm going to take my own path out of this world and into the embrace of the Grey Wing. Should be a short trip, as I'm halfway there already. So, dear reader, whomever you may be, there is hope even for you. Follow under Her Wing and she will never fail you. You don't have to remember me. No, you don't even need to know my name. I'll be the first to greet you in the next life and the first to fly with you on your maiden voyage through the skies. Look for the old freller with long hair and a creepy smile. (Though hopefully the age will depart me in eternity. Who actually frellin' knows?)

May the Grey Wing bestow her blessings on you and raise you to eternal flight.

I find Merlin, working in the Talon’s garage early in the morning. He is covered in grease and patience. As I finish asking him for a ride back to The Tower, I hear someone behind me say, "You’ll ride with me." Turning, I find Shrike. She doesn’t say anything else to me - simply makes her way over to her ski and starts the engine. I think I see a smirk on Merlin’s face as he silently returns to work.

The trip back to The Tower is serene, in a way I don’t expect. I’ve never ridden like this before - so close to the water, fast, nimble. With the sun still rising, the otherwise undisturbed waters below us mirror the dawning day above. It feels like I’m flying.

Shrike glides up to the dock with expert precision, and I hop off. She looks at me for the first time in a long time, and I say, "Thank you." She heads back out to the crystalline waters. If she said anything I didn’t hear it.

I see a figure rise, as do my nerves, until I recognize him as Roark. He pats my shoulder as I approach and greets me. I can’t tell if it is an act, professionalism, or just another day for him. I make my way through the ground floor, and get in the elevator. The press of a button and a retina scan later I’m exiting on Princy’s floor. Our floor. Surprising how easy it has been so far.

A putrifying odor hits me as I step into our waiting room. I pause, taking a breath of what might be the freshest air in the sprawling apartment, and tie a cloth around my face. As I enter I see the bodies of the twins. Wendy is tipped off of the couch, her guitar is cracked under her ragdoll body. Seems she barely realized what was happening before the bullet struck her in the chest. Dez is in the hall, gunshot to the back. She must have been running to try to get to Princy’s room.

As I head down the hall, I pass the office. The stench is coming from there. Preparing myself to see Princy’s body, I head in. Lucius is barely recognizable. Bruised and swollen. Multiple gunshots. With the amount of exposed viscera, he is clearly the primary source of the putrid smell. A suicide note is at the table, but beyond a quick scan I don’t look for details. There will be time for that later. I can tell immediately it isn’t Lucius’s handwriting. And I imagine suicide by beating and shooting yourself multiple times are a feat beyond Lucius’s skill. Whoever did this is likely just trying to pin it on a convenient scapegoat.

In a daze, I head over to Princy’s room. I see his body - exactly where I left him. I slam my fist into the solid door succumbing to my rage - no one survived.

Then I hear something. A faint breath. I look around to see if someone is still hiding when I see small movement in my peripheral. My attention is pulled to the source of the movement. Time stands still, then Princy blinks.

The next 24 hours are a blur. I’m at Princy’s side with water and food, tending to his wounds. I am able to get ahold of John - she and Millions arrive almost immediately after our call finishes. Millions wasn’t even fully dressed when they arrived, clearly summoned from his bed he wasted no time in rushing over.

Both are surprisingly helpful in every way possible. John and a small crew take care of the bodies and document both the scene and my statement. Millions sits with Princy and me. He helps us get in touch with Parker, and is able to have Dinero return the three women to The Tower after just another day. He could have sent someone else quicker - but it seems he felt that having Dinero and Canary perform the task would be the most secure option.

Princy is up and about now, and his spirit seems to have returned. He, Parker, and Millions have several conversations, though I know not of what they speak. Perhaps plans for security, justice, or perhaps to discuss an exit plan. It doesn’t matter to me right now.

A breeze blows past me and I turn as if to follow the invisible sprite of wind flit down the hall. The zephyr tussles Paisley’s hair while she works on a puzzle, then vanishes into the air beyond. Farther into the living room I see Parker talking to Janelle. Janelle glances over at me and sees me already looking at her. She smiles and turns her attention back to Parker. I awkwardly try to look busy but only manage to do so briefly before we lock eyes again - knowing smiles erupting across our faces.

An aggressively friendly slap to my back startles me to attention. Millions demands coffee in a friendlyish manner, and heads with Princy to an office where they prepare to draft plans for requests and legislation about whatever they have been discussing. I make my way to the nearest kitchen.

Seems change is in the air, and now so is the aroma of coffee.

Some days, when I look back on that voyage into the maelstrom and think about how it changed the course of my life, I wonder if it was worth it. There, in that place where the Whispers wore shadows like coats, they had not just voices to taunt me with, but prodding fingers and cold breath. They touched the ends of my hair and tugged at the hem of my dress and invited me to stay, to stay, to stay.

After Lucky refused to look at, much less speak to, me during the voyage, it took the two of us being separated from the others in that vile place for the ice to finally shatter. The first thing he said to me was, "How do you make them stop?"

Even then I knew the truth was - you cannot. How much truer that has been since we returned.

The Whispers are louder now, and louder every day. When I wake in the morning, if I have slept I have dreamed, and if I have dreamed, it has been of that place, and my body bears the scars of their grasping claws anew, Whispers reaching from beyond the Veil to pull me to the depths with them.

Zephyr and I left the Talons together not long after our return. She stayed with me at my apartment, helping me quiet the Whispers and soothe their clawed trails for a time, but her desire for freedom called to her too loudly and I couldn't keep her in a cage. She set out to the great blue. I'm not sure what she found out there, but sometimes I think I hear her voice among the Whispers. Or perhaps they are playing tricks on me as they so like to do. How strange it is, then, that I have never heard Litch's voice among them. I choose to believe that his Grey Wing ferried him safely to some happier after.

Lucky killed Wells after we returned, as he wanted, and the Vaulters sought vengeance on the Sipps, as I feared. Lucky lost control of what Sipps survived and showed up on my doorstep with new scars he still won't tell me about and a wild plan to help us rid ourselves of the Whispers. His desperation reminded me of Nuport, who I hear is now becoming something of a goddess to the Vaulters now. They say she can control the future.

For all his plans, Lucky and I never did get rid of our Whispers though. I understand Wells still berates him nearly daily and Hard Strike urges me to help her son even more often. His body is now mottled by the same circular wounds mine is, the leeches taking the edge off the Whispers, but rarely silencing them completely. People come to us sometimes, looking for loved ones, or lost ones, or answers. It brings in enough for us to survive on.

Between Lucky and myself, it seems we hold the whole of the maelstrom in our minds. I hate to admit that it has aged me faster than I'd like and when I catch my reflection in the silver of the kettle boiling water for our evening cups of tea, I pause to frown at the wrinkles around my eyes and mouth, at how my skin is starting to remind me more of the Whisper's bodies beyond the Veil than my own. It can't have been that long since that fateful trip. A handful of years perhaps? But time has been slippery since then. Some days I hardly feel its passing at all. Perhaps it is true, then, that a hundred millennia have passed without us knowing.

Lucky's hand reaches in from behind to cup my chin, turning me gently from my reflection to look at him.

"You are as beautiful as the day I first saw you," he assures me. He turns the stove back on, the kettle somehow cold when it was boiling only a moment ago - that was only a moment ago, right? - and he kisses me. His lips are cold, same as mine. Perhaps I am now more Whisper than woman. Perhaps he is more Murmur than man. Perhaps we are already beyond the Veil, or perhaps we are trapped somewhere between, a foot in the land of the living and a foot in the land of the dead. I certainly feels like I have seen more sunrises than one person should, but I am not ready to give up the hope of seeing just one more. Not yet.