3.17. Frowns and Birds

Alyxa’s frown went deeper than just the skin. She saw her Dream again, standing there with Odin in that strange cavern. She suddenly felt like all the drifting pieces were slowly coming together; a jigsaw puzzle of infinite size made by blind gurus and carved by invisible children with no knowledge of puzzles whatsoever.

“The Trickster?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” June Darjeeling replied, “every religion since the dawn of time has had a ‘trickster’, as with most, they are all one and the same.”

“We learn to diversify, the Tricksters are better at adapting than the rest of us,” Morpheus said to no one in particular, brushing a finger across the porcelain of his teacup; the delicately painted birds fluffed their feathers and took flight, coasting in endless circles.

-And of course Loki is the one we’re concerned with,-  Bast grumbled, stretching out to her full glorious self.

Alyxa sighed and looked at her feet. She frowned again; her sneakers were stained and worn from travel. She needed new ones. She blinked and now she was suddenly wearing a pair of purple suede pumps. A quick look at Morpheus revealed his small smile, even though his eyes were still locked in the flying birds in the china.

“Alright, so we’ve solved the mysteries of the universe, now where’s Maye?” she demanded.

“Maye is searching for Loki, I thought I’d made that obvious already,” June told her.

-Not really,- Bast grumbled.

“Fine,” Alyxa cut in, ignoring the Cat-Goddess, “why is Maye looking for Loki and how do we get to her?”

June’s eyes sparkled.

“I don’t know the answer to the first question,” she said, “and as for finding her. You’ll just have to do a little Blood Scrying, now won’t you, dear?”

-‘Blood Scrying’? –

“Alright, let’s get it over with.”

3.16. Lineage and Ambition

“When Maye was a young witch, her father sent her to us for tempering, to hone her talents in such a way that might make her fit for leadership. It was her father’s dream that she would succeed him in the Great Coven, and so we taught her everything we knew and when she was ready we tried her in the way that was normal. She excelled at everything we threw at her, until finally we presented her with the darker arts. It is a witch’s right to know all sides of the Undivided; we were not to know that Maye would gravitate towards this lore, and too late we discovered that her ambition was stronger than her morality. When she left us to take up her father’s mantle, we had done all we could to caution her against this, but apparently we didn’t do as well as we thought. You must understand that we trusted our own teaching abilities, perhaps a little arrogantly, and believed we had ‘fixed’ her. She was the most powerful witch to be born into our family in generations, it was only right in our minds that her talents came with a certain superiority.”

“This is all very well,  June,” Alyxa put in gently, “but it doesn’t tell us where she is. Where is she?”

“Most certainly. What I am trying to say is that despite who she has become, Maye is our family, she is our blood,” the older woman assured her, “and like you, Dreamer, she is born from an illustrious line. Did you know that every witch can be traced back to a deity of old?”

“Of course, it’s common knowledge. I’m Morpheusian...Jessica’s Cassandrian, which is Helion. It’s how we  define ourselves.”

“Naturally,” June said, “the Darjeeling s come from the Trickster.”

3.15. Quests and Wishes

They had adjourned upstairs, where June Darjeeling served Irish Breakfast tea in delicate but mismatching porcelain cups. Bast opted to have cream instead while Morpheus seemed more interested in the fragile sweeps of paint decorating his saucer.

“As you can see, Maye is not here,” June said.

“Do you have any idea where she might be?” Alyxa asked, setting down her cup again.

“Perhaps.”

-What’s that supposed to mean?-  Bast demanded.

“It means that she knows where Maye,” Alyxa muttered, “I’ve read this book. Alright, June, what do you want?”

June smiled a very witchy smile, this one full of teeth and gums.

“There is a rather rare book in a...special collection,” the elderly woman said, “I would like it.”

-May one ask after the title?- Bast asked, and Alyxa could have sworn she was batting her eyelashes.

“‘Sefer Raziel HaMalakh’.”

-The original, I assume.-

“Certainly,” June replied, taking a sip from her tea.

“It’s not,” Morpheus stated suddenly.

“I beg your pardon?” June demanded.

“It’s not the original,” the Dream-Lord replied, “the Arcs took the original back when the Elder retired to Reveille.”

June’s face was a tableaux of emotions, skipping across her face like a pebble across a wrinkled pond.  

-Weren’t expecting that, were you, crone?-

Alyxa flinched at Bast’s lack of subtlety.

“No, no I wasn’t,” June admitted.

“Is there anything else we might procure for you, my lady?” Morpheus suggested before either of his companions could stop him.

“A good night’s sleep?”

“Done,” Morpheus said, snapping his fingers.

“I was joki- ” June put in.

-You asked, wish granted, now tell us what you know!-

“Very well,” June murmured, shooting a side-long glance at Morpheus, “provided I never have nightmares again.”

“One wish I granted, a second requires a second bargain.”

-Tell us what you know.-

3.14. Words and Understandings

As it turned out, Dr. Charles Aswynn had indeed forgotten. He had to be trundled out of his lab where he had been arduously be at work making potions.  According to Michaela, who had been sent to fetch him, he often forgot everything for days at a time. It took an hour, but she extricated him and brought him before Jessica and Aeron.

“Charles, so nice of you to join us,” Aeron said.

“Yes, yes, sorry, I know, I missed out on the important meeting this morning,” Charles said, plopping down in a chair, “so are you going to tell me why I’m here?”

“We need a quorum and you, Jessica here, and I are it,” Aeron replied deftly.

Charles polished his glasses thoughtfully and peered through them first at the Loremaster and then at Jessica.

“A new Diviner? Why wasn’t I told?” he demanded, turning to look at his daughter. Michaela rolled her eyes but said nothing.

“Yes, the new Diviner,” Aeron said patiently, “you are the eldest witch amongst us, Herbalist, thus you make our third.”

“Ah, yes, well, of course, I see,” Charles mumbled, “I will, of course, be the third, and do my part for the coven. Was that everything?”

“We will need more than your usual attention span, Charles,” Aeron said gently.

“Yes, well, as you will. I s’pose with a youngster like this for a Diviner – ”

“Doctor, I know I am young,” Jessica interrupted, “but I can See.”

“What – oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, Diviner.”

“That’s quite alright,” Jessica replied, “we need to build our strength so we can help Alyxa get the little Dreamer back.”

“No kidding,” Michael muttered. Jessica reached for him and took his hand.

“There is much work to be done,” she told them all.

3.13. Paths and Patience

Michael scanned the room, seeing flashes of different emotions flit across the faces of the coven members. Here and there he saw relief, but mostly he saw disappointment, and every few faces it was anger. For a breed meant to be upholding the good, this particular species of witch seemed to be slightly too ambitious. He didn’t like it. Just as well that their new leader was not among them; the last thing this Coven needed was another megalomaniac.

“Not here?” Aeron asked, far more demanding.

“I think that is a matter to be discussed after Jessica has had a moment,” the Arc interjected, putting his hand on Jessica’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Michael,” Jessica calmed him.

“Do you...” Aeron said softly, “...have any idea where is he?”

Michael watched his charge sort through whatever it was that she was Seeing. He wondered what it was that she saw; it was the weird thing, this pact between the One and Apollo to protect the Cassandrian line. To think, Sariel had kept Morgan company for more than a human lifetime.

“He’ll find us,” Jessica said, opening her blind eyes, “we just have to have some patience.”

Aeron scanned her face for a moment and then stepped back.

“Very well,” he said quietly, and then raised his voice, “Lore dictates that in the absence of a Coven Master, the Diviner, the Loremaster, and the eldest member of the Coven form a quorum and lead the coven until the Coven Master comes forward.”

“So...who’s the eldest?”  Jessica asked.

Aeron scanned the room, muttering to himself, his eyes lighted on a young brunette.

“That’ll be Charles Aswynn,” he said after a while, “Michaela, where is your father?”

A rustle of murmurs, and finally Michaela Aswynn spoke up,

“My father isn’t here, I guess he forgot.”

3.12. Colours and Faces

The Coven members gathered in the largest room of the house, some sitting some standing, and all eyes were fixed on Jessica. She could feel the intensity of their thoughts behind the irises, so many different desires and criticisms. Who will she pick? When will she pick them? What does she See? Isn’t she too young? Jessica could imagine what went on in their minds, mainly because she was thinking them herself. They were valid questions too, all of them unanswered.

“Have you got everything you need, my dear?” Aeron asked her, coming up beside her.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied quietly, taking a sip of the glass of cordial sitting in front of her.

“If you need – ”

“Aeron,” she interrupted, sharp enough to surprise herself, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Alright,” he said quietly, and moved off.

She let him go without making any attempt to apologise. Someone else drifted towards her, she thought it was Delia from the perfume but before she could say anything the whirl of colours that were her Sight settled.

A stream of faces flew past her, like index cards being sorted. They spread and became a room full of people, the coven Working a rite. There were braziers everywhere, and torches. It was Beltane. The Circle glowed in the firelight. The Coven Master stepped into the centre of the Circle and pulled back the cowl of the ceremonial robe.

Jessica knocked over the glass, spilling cordial everywhere, as she stood up. Michael was behind her then, steadying her.

“Jazzy? What do you See?”

The tension in the room was a physical presence, it wanted to know who she was going to choose.

“...he’s not here. The man in my vision, he’s not here,” she said, “but...I think, I know where to find him.”

3.11. Blood and Guts

As usual, there was blood everywhere. Andreas sighed miserably and shook a bit of human entrails off his boot. It was a boat house of some variety, but it might as well have been a slaughterhouse for all the bits and the smell. He had done his fair share of butchery over the aeons, but this was beyond the pale.

“Why can’t she just talk to people?” he demanded as he spotted his lover. Hector looked up and effected a small shrug.

“You try explaining that torture isn’t always necessary to a woman like Medea, you’ll likely end up like that,” he said, pointing at what looked like the remains of a skull. The brain was leaking out, somehow pooling sadly below it. Andreas decided not to dwell on how it had reached such a liquid state.

“Did we get anything at least?”

“Apparently we did,” Hector replied, gesturing at vaguely-visible sigils written all over walls, “according to  Mercedes, these are Keys to open a Gate to Hell, or something.”

“So...what? We’re going to storm Hades and retrieve Amy?”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that simple a plan,” Hector assured him, “not even Medea is a match for the Prince.”

“But does she knows that?” Andreas murmured, then, seriously, “as long as she lets us in on the plan, I don’t like the idea of Lucifer screwing around with the order of things.”

“If the Elder would get off their behinds and help it would make a difference.”

“So you believe we should go to Reveille?” Andreas asked, they had not discussed this before.

“I believe we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“You’re not wrong, love,” Andreas agreed, scraping some unknown visceral matter off the sole of his boot, “not wrong in the least.” 

3.10. Assurances and Reassurances

The house felt full now that there were actual people in it; for Jessica this changed the very timbre of the atmosphere, adding all manner of colours and hues to the odd sense of sight she now had. For the most part, the newcomers were strangers to her; as Morgan’s apprentice it had never been necessary for her to meet or work with other witches. Aeron introduced them to her one at a time so she could get a feel for the sound of everyone’s voices, not that she could remember them all, but a few stuck out. Michael’s presence was always there, somewhere in the room – the coven had accepted his presence as part of her own, and if there were any questions they were asked out of earshot.

“You alright, Jessica?” Delia asked her softly.

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed.”

“You’ll get used to it,” came the reassuring reply, “or not...Morgan just referred to everyone as ‘dear’ or ‘darling’, I guess that helped.”

Jessica laughed.

“I think I might be a little young to call people that.”

“You’re the Diviner, you can come up with something else more appropriate.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jessica said, “right now I’m more concerned about how I’m supposed to be choosing the new Coven Master.”

Delia patted her hand in a maternal fashion, odd for someone her age and a small part of Jessica resented it.

“It’s meant to come to you, I don’t think you’ve got much to worry about.”

Jessica bit her tongue; she was really tired of people telling her there was ‘nothing to worry about’. No, she thought sarcastically, I’ve got blind, see weird colours and occasionally have weird dreams about the end of the world.

“At least all the candidates are here now, right?” she asked instead.

3.9. Clues and Acquaintances

“You’re a witch,” Alyxa said accusingly.

“I would have thought that was obvious, given the shop we’re in, my dear.”

Alyxa found herself blushing.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“As for being a witch, so are you,” the older woman pointed out, “a particularly powerful one.”

“What makes you say that?”

-She’s got eyes,- Bast muttered, stretching out to soothe her hackles, -you’re here with us.-

Alyxa blinked and looked at the cat and then at the Dream God disappearing down the narrow aisle of books.

“My name is June. The Lady Bast I know by reputation,” the old witch went on, following Alyxa’s gaze, “the other...I cannot name.”

Morpheus stuck his head out from around the end of the bookshelf.

“I am Morpheus, Lord of Dreams, Wandering King, Master of Reveille, Prince of – ”

-I think she gets it, kitten,- Bast cut in.

“Are you sure?” Morpheus asked, tilting his head curiously at June.

“I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Lord Morpheus,” the witch assured him.

“Of course,” Morpheus agreed, taking it for granted. Alyxa couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him.

-Now...you wouldn’t happen to have a tea-like last name would you, June?- Bast asked slyly, her narrow face looking decidedly pointed at the question.

“Darjeeling? You’re looking for young Maye then, I assume.”

“Actually, yes, we are,” Alyxa replied, glad that they were finally making some headway.

“She is my great-niece,” June said softly, “she said people would come looking for her. I didn’t expect you. What do you want with her?”

-She cost us something precious in exchange for her newfound powers,- Bast snarled.

“What precious something?” June queried.

“An Unbound Dreamer. Traded to Lucifer,” Morpheus stated, “a trade this world cannot afford.”

“Then it is true, and Lucifer wishes to bridge the Rift. How interesting.”

3.8. Dust and Cobwebs

“Can I help you? Or are you happy to browse?” the elderly woman behind the counter queried politely when Alyxa and Bast came in.

“Um...just looking, thanks,” Alyxa replied. The old woman nodded and smiled. The shop was incredibly narrow, as though it had been squished between two buildings as an afterthought by some enterprising young architect bent on efficiency.

Floor to ceiling, the place was packed full of dusty books, jars full of herbs and spices, and all manner of ingredients for ritual, spell, charm or brew. Alyxa had never seen so much witchery in one place, not even in Maye’s spellroom. Morpheus was running his fingers along the spines of a few books.

“Morph-” Alyxa started, halting herself when she realised ‘Morpheus’ wasn’t the most common name in the world, “what are you doing?”

“Searching,” he replied stoically.

“For what?” Alyxa demanded impatiently, but he had wandered down the aisle of shelves already.

“Where’s that accent from, dear?” the old lady asked. Usually such a question, prying into her personal affairs, would have rankled Alyxa, but it was posed so politely that she felt quite happy to reply.

“Oh, I’m English but I lived in France for a few years when I was little.”

“How wonderful,” the old lady declared, “I visited Paris as a girl. A long time ago.”

“Oh, neat,” Alyxa replied, trying to be polite.

“My family is from India, originally, most of us lived in England, but some came down here. What brings you to Australia?”

-This old bat likes to talk,- Bast commented, jumping onto the countertop.

“Only about interesting things, Cat Queen,” the old lady replied without missing a beat.

Bast’s fur fluffed itself into a fury and she hissed.

“You...you can see her?” Alyxa asked softly.

“Of course, dear, can’t you?”

3.7. Magicks and Lore

Melbourne. A collection of a-stringent synapses, ley-lines, and otherwise intersecting waves of thought and power. There were different people everywhere, not a one was the same. It was fascinating. Even more so than London. Morpheus was having trouble focussing, there were new things all over the place, every nook and cranny had something different to look at. There were cafes and eating places; you couldn’t swing a cat without hitting some tiny shop full of fascinating goods – not that you would be swinging cats in Bast’s presence. More than once, Alyxa had to haul him away from a window behind which lights flickered and masses of fabric folded themselves into masterpieces of fashion. Intoxicating humanity and its ingenuity.

-You’re like a week-old kitten, Dream King, seriously, get a grip,- Bast hissed at him the fourth time she and Alyxa had to come back for him.

“Sensory overload,” Alyxa said with a shrug, “we’re lucky he wasn’t like this on the plane.”

-He was like this on the plane, you just didn’t notice.-

“That’s not the point,” Alyxa murmured, pulling Morpheus away from a bookstore window.

Suddenly, Morpheus looked away, staring down the street. His eyes were violently green slits as he scanned the people wandering the pavement.

“Morpheus?” Alyxa asked, but he was moving away from them, darting down the street.

-Fishsticks and – what’s got into him?!-

They raced after him, struggling not to lose him in the crowds. When they finally caught up he was standing in front of the smallest shop Alyxa had ever seen. Before either of them could ask what had drawn him here, Morpheus opened the door and went inside without looking back.

“What on earth?”

-Well, well...look at that,- Bast mused, looking up at the shop sign.

In gilded letters, glowing: ‘Magicks and Lore’.

3.6. Tea and Pastry

Barring the doe-eyed waitress the cafe was empty, something that had been ‘Arranged’, no doubt. Alyxa prodded her tea with her spoon, trying to decide whether she wanted sugar or not. Everything tasted strange at the moment: jet-lag. She heard the shriek of a child’s laughter; a girl bolted down the street, a bewildered parent giving chase. Alyxa swallowed a mouthful of tea.

“Are you alright?” Morpheus asked, looking up from the pastry he was decorating with butter.

“I miss Amy,” Alyxa said softly.

-Who knows what Lucifer is doing,- Bast muttered sullenly.

“It is moot to speculate. Our best change of freeing the little Dreamer is to find Maye Darjeeling and force her to return her powers,” Morpheus stated, “we do not have the necessary calibre to go after her directly.”

“We could have stayed with Medea’s team,” Alyxa said, “they’re not lacking for fire-power.”

Morpheus frowned a little at the mention of Medea’s name, but his attention remained otherwise focussed.

“This is silly!” Alyxa declared, shoving her tea back, “what are we doing about finding Maye? We’ve been here three days and nothing’s happened.”

Bast eyed her over a raised paw, the tip of her tongue poking out of her mouth.

-Of course stuff has happened. I’m just waiting,- the Cat-Goddess said after a moment’s pause, -why do you think we’re sitting in this tacky little cafe?-

“The pastry is just a bonus,” Morpheus murmured.

-We’re here for her,- Bast stated, pointing her washed paw in the direction of the approaching waitress.

“The waitress?”

-The waitress.-

Said waitress bowed when she reached the table.

“Mistress, the witch you seek is not in this city,” she said.

-Where then?-

“Melbourne.”

- Thank you, kitten.-

The waitress blinked dully and toddled back to her work.

-Of to Melbourne then.-

3.5. Reception and Messages

The kaleidoscope of Jessica’s world settled momentarily into patchy visions of caves and rocky surfaces.

“Jessica?”

She turned in the direction of Aeron’s voice.

“I’m alright,” Jessica said, smiling at him, “please, continue.”

“Most of the Coven members are returning now. We should have a full house in a matter of days. After that it will be up to you to choose the next Coven Master or Mistress.”

“Because Maye left no successors we are facing an unprecedented occassion,” Delia’s voice put in from the left side.

“And in such circumstances we defer to the Coven Diviner,” her father finished.

“And I’m meant to See who the next Coven Master is?”

“I suppose,” Aeron said.

“You ‘suppose’?” Jessica laughed, “what do you mean by that?”

“It’s not like it’s happened before, Jazz,” Delia chided.   

“I know, I know,” Jessica replied, “but it’s not like I’ve done this before.”

“Touché,” Delia joked.

“We know this is a little intimidating, Jessica, but we are all behind you.”

“That makes me...”

A flash of colours showed her the face of a beautiful young boy in total agony.

“...Loki?”

One some other sensory level she realised Delia was frowning. The negativity was almost tangible.

 “Sorry,” Jessica apologised.

“Morgan used to do that too,” Aeron commented, “you said something about ‘Loki’?”

“The TrueSight is starting to show me something,” Jessica explained, “but it’s patchy. I sort of feel like I’m not getting good reception.”

Delia chuckled.

“Give it some time, there are plenty of stories of Diviners not receiving the full vision until the time was right.”

“So I just wait?” Jessica asked, “strikes me as slightly inconvenient, but alright. Is there a time limit on making this decision?”

“Sooner would be better,” Aeron said, “the Coven needs strong leadership in the times to come.” 

3.4. Possession and Opinion

“You Dreamed Odin?” Morpheus demanded.

Alyxa was brushing her teeth and had to rinse her mouth before she answered.

“Actually, I Dreamed about Loki, Odin was just there.”

Morpheus stared at her through the reflection of the mirror.

“How dare he interfere with you,” he grated after a long minute of silence.

“I think he was visiting his son, and I just happened to Dream at the same time,” Alyxa told him, applying her moisturiser next, “I wouldn’t take things so personally.”

“I’m not taking it personally, I’m – ”

“Acting incredibly human,” Alyxa cut in, crossing her arms to face him, “you’re being a little bit possessive, more so than usual.”

Rather frustratingly, Morpheus simply turned around and left the bathroom. Alyxa threw up her hands and followed him. She had taken two steps when he had her pinned against the wall, fangs buried in her throat. The blood streamed, and she felt her body grow lethargic in his arms. It grew, gliding over her skin and through her veins, until suddenly it was gone. She blinked and looked up.

“You can take more if you need it,” she whispered, drowning in the viridian of his eyes.

“No,” he told her, brushing back one of the strands of her hair, “I’m by nature selfish, and you are by nature giving.”

“I’m alright. I’ve rested, I feel good as new.”

Morpheus nodded and simply walked away again. Alyxa sighed and sat down on the sofa next to Bast.

-You two don’t keep your lovers’ quarrels to yourselves do you?- the Cat-Goddess asked, Alyxa glared at her, -I’m just saying, kitten. Some of us need sleep.-

“We have to get Amy back and stop Lucifer.”

-And I’m working on it.-

Alyxa curled up and sighed.

“But why am I dreaming about Loki?”

3.3. Father and Sons

A cavern, screamingly open and vast. Dreaming, Alyxa, sees a simply altar, pulled from the rocky floor itself. Upon it, a young boy with the face of such love-crafted beauty that it breaks her heart when she sees the shackles chaining him to the unforgiving surface. A young woman stands beside him, weeping at the sight. In her hands a bowl full of violent green. She holds it over his face, catching the droplets tumbling from the ceiling. The bowl is full, hastily she drains it over the side, but a drop manages to touch skin. The boy screams in agony. Alyxa starts forwards, but she cannot help him. Fates are at work here, Fates that she cannot control. The boy turns his head, unseeing, towards her. The poison has streaked his face in red gashes, scoring the youthful beauty. She has seen this before, but she cannot remember where or when; she knows this story.

“Does this disturb you, little Dreamer,” a voice whispers in her ear, “seeing him like this?”

In the Dream, Alyxa turns. An man stands before her, old and yet not, with one eye covered by a patch.

“Lord Odin,” she murmurs and his head nods an assent, “I...don’t know. I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

“This is my son,” he tells her, “locked thus for his crimes against the world.”

Alyxa looks back at the boy.

“I thought Baldur would be older looking.”

Odin chuckles, coming forwards.

“I have many sons. Most of them trouble-makers, to my shame. This is not Baldur.”

“Then wh- ,” Alyxa stops herself short and looks again, straining her mind for a half-remembered story.

Odin waits patiently for her to put the pieces together. She stares at the boy, names and stories manifesting themselves in her mind.

“Loki?”

3.2 Flights and Findings

There was a singular moment, somewhere during the twenty-four hour journey, when Alyxa wondered why Morpheus and Bast had not simply brought them to Australia the other way. Looking at Morpheus on the plane, however, made her realise that he was enjoying the new experience. With all that had been going on, Alyxa had forgotten how new all these things must be for him; everything was tangibly real compared to Reveille. When they finally landed in Sydney International, Alyxa could practically taste his excitement.

“Alright, it took us long enough to get here. Now what?” she asked, shooting a pointed look at Bast – who everyone else ignored.

-We check into a hotel, I could use a nap,- Bast replied calmly.

“You slept on the plane, the whole way. In my lap,” Alyxa countered.

-And your point is?-

“Enough,” Morpheus murmured, “we shall find a place to stay and perform more research to find the witch.”

“Most witches aren’t this much trouble,” Alyxa grumbled, grabbing her suitcase.

-Most witches don’t trade god-souls with the Prince either,- Bast pointed out. Alyxa eyed her for a moment, the travel exhaustion was getting to her and it was beginning to frustrate her that neither of her companions was at all affected. She doubted that Jessica was having any such issues with Michael; the Arc probably travelled First Class.

“Alright, whatever, let’s just go. I need a shower and about a week’s worth of sleep,” she stated, and looked around for any helpful signs or directions.

-This way,- Bast announced, padding away silently towards a door that had not been there before, -I know a place.-

“As long as it’s got a real bed and a hot bath, I’m fine. Just don’t expect me to deal with any kangaroos.”

-Or wombats. Wombats are extremely odd.-