Destination: Carcosa

[polymods]

✖ Carcosa

Ⅰ. THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.

The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?

If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.

The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea.

There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.

Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.

The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.

---

Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.

All of the attendees are wearing masks.

You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.

Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.

Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.

No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.

Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.

---

Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.

The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.


The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.

There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?

Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?

Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.

---

Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.

You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.

There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.

Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.

You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.

It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.

Bonus: What's that? You want a Carcosa playlist? You've got it, babes!

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Anne Bonny | Black Sails | OTA

[bonnylass]

☠ I. THE DOCKS, CITY & TEMPLE
[ The first thing Anne explores are the ships. She knows them best, but finding each empty upon boarding had been unnerving. What good is a ship without a crew? How is that there are so many just waiting at anchor and apparently no one to claim them? It doesn't make sense and the animal instincts in Anne tell her to stay away while she is alone. Maybe Jack would know what to do with the opportunity, but Anne isn't a solo act. She can be found anywhere on the ships or skulking around the docks on the first day and anyone doing the same would be a welcome distraction from the ghostliness of the experience. She doesn't exactly look friendly, though if you're lost or unsure of yourself, it's clear she knows what she's doing and belongs on docks and decks more than on land.

In the shining city itself, assuming there's no one around to stop her, Anne's pirating instincts assert themselves. It might all be a wonder beyond anything she's ever imagined, but her response to such a sight is to take of it what she can. To own some part of it so it can't be taken away from her. She can be caught (after snatching some clothes that fit better than the robes and will be much better for fighting and fleeing) filling her pockets and carving pieces from the golden exteriors of buildings with anything sharp she can find, stuffing scavenged canvas bags or anything else that she recognizes can be used to carry plunder. She's stronger than she looks and will likely see anyone approaching her quickly as someone looking to take what she's rightfully stolen. Be careful. If you spook her, you might have a fight on your hands.

In the temple itself, Anne finds something else she's used to - reasonably close quarters with little afforded privacy. Immediately, despite the strangeness of the place, Anne feels at home being expected to sleep among so many. It smells like the sea, like other travelers, like dozens of people breathing all at once. Even though it lacks the rocking of the waves beneath her, this is a place she feels she could sleep. In fact, as she finds a mostly empty room and sits down on a bunk to kick her boots off, she even feels comfortable enough to ask of the other lone bunker a few spaces away: ]

You think those little things taste as strange as they look?

[ Meaning the guardians, of course. She's just about hungry enough to find out. ]
☠ II. THE MASQUERADE
[ Afforded a choice of her own, Anne would never have step foot in a party like this. It's hardly her Nassau brothel-or-tavern style, no more than the clothing she's been provided for the occasion feels right on her body. Her hair even feels lighter and cleaner, a rarity all its own. At least, she has a moment to think as her panicking eyes try to settle everywhere at once, she's wearing pants, unlike nearly all the women here. That's when she notices that every single person there is masked and her hands shoot up to her own face to find that she is, too. Part rabid dog, part the cogs of a ship, Anne can't see it - though she can feel it.

And she can feel that she can't get it off.

She might bump into you while trying desperately to pry the thing from her face, or perhaps, after she's given up, she sidles fiercely up to the bar to drink her panic away and gives you a suspicious once-over from behind her mask. ]

What the fuck is this shit!? [ She spits out the question like it's an attack all on its own. ] How do we get 'em off?
☠ III. LOST CARCOSSA
[ Anne isn't one for sharing, except in the most intimate of moments; quiet times with only those she trusts pressed up against her. Not here, sitting around a some damn skull on a foreign beach and surrounded by strangers who are far more talkative than she appreciates. She keeps her mouth resentfully shut as others share their losses and she shoots withering looks at anyone who dares to ask her what she's lost in order to be sitting there with them. It's none of their damn business.

She leaves before the talk has ended and heads back on her own, instantly soothed by the silence and the roar of surf on sand, even if she can't see the exact meeting of it through the fog. And then... she sees something else. Something rotted, shambling. Something she can smell, and god, she knows that smell.

Something? No. Somethings. ]

What... the fuck...

[ She's finding herself saying that a lot here, and while at least the long ivory-handled knives she'd stolen from the city slide easily from her belt, her scarred hands struggle to hold them as tightly as she'd once been able to. It won't be an easy fight on her own. She's ready for that. Or at least, she isn't afraid. She'll take fighting over being vulnerable every time. ]
☸ WILDCARD
( Let's plot or just hit me with something different! pm the journal or pp kaitniss to chat. )

temple

[darkdetective]

They serve food here, and you're wondering about eating the things wandering around the temple?

[ he's in the middle of cinching a length of long, corded rope to his pack when she speaks. while he doesn't stop initially, he does glance up to make a final point. ]

Besides, haven't you noticed the strange way their shadows move?

[bonnylass]

[ Anne isn't good at taking things that are actually offered, even worse at trusting new people and new situations, so the question just gets a silent scowl from her in return. ]

Could be a trick of the light.

[ She's used to the shifting shadows of rigging and sails and all the tricks that sunlight can play. ]

How do we even know what they are until we've killed one? This whole fucking place could be a trick.

[darkdetective]

Could be.

[ he pulls a piece of bread from his bag, a kind offering from those 'things' she's referring to, and takes a bite. ]

Isn't, though.

II the masquerade

[queenking]

Oh, we match. [It's a cheerful comment, that doesn't in the least belie the fact that Saxsice is beginning to feel a little panicked about her own mask, and how tight it's beginning to feel. She swivels in her seat, sloshing a little champagne from the overfull glass she's holding and giving the other woman a once-over.

Then she shrugs, maneuvering the glass under the nose of the mask.] Hell if I know. I've tried everythin'. Even tried smashin' it on the bar. [She rolls her eyes.] Bartender really hated that.

[bonnylass]

[ Cheerfulness of any kind, especially when she's in a state of distress, already has the tendency to set Anne on edge, but her instinctual hatred and fascination for effortlessly feminine women also sparks like a pistol shot at the friendly greeting. The stranger gets a similar scan from Anne, but it's a quick one. ]

...You smashed your face against the bar?

[ She eyes her like she thinks she might be a bit mad, but the look passes. The moment the bartender is occupied elsewhere, Anne hoists herself up and reaches across the space to snatch whatever bottle of brown spirits is closest. She doesn't bother with a glass. ]

You all there? Or just drunk?

[queenking]

[Saxsice shakes her head, wagging a finger reproachfully.] I smashed the mask against the bar. [The protruding nose of the wolf-shaped mask gets a tap from a bitten-down fingernail.] Figured the headache would be worth gettin' this damn thing off.

Didn't work. And no, I'm not drunk enough. [She gestures at the brown bottle.] Feel like sharin'? This whole situation'd be much easier intoxicated.

i; docks

[shapeshistory]

Darling. [ Jack's voice cuts through the darkness, though his presence can be heard long before he speaks: he's got his own change of clothes, but more importantly, he's clearly stuffed the bag provided for him with things that clank and clatter together. Valuables. He waits to speak again until he's at the other's side, chest heaving as he breathes out. He's been walking fairly quickly for a while, by the looks of it. ]

I do hope you're in the middle of procuring a boat for us.

[ Which is to say hello, Anne, how are you? His gaze visibly sweeps over her, taking in her new outfit, brows knitting together, stolen goods and the need for a boat temporarily forgotten. She looks stunning. ]

[bonnylass]

[ That familiar coo of what might as well be her second name draws Anne's attention from the waiting gangplank and soothes her instantly. She waits on his approach, glad not to be alone a moment longer than she has to be, and without comment or asking for permission she reaches out and takes the heavy bag from him. After giving the contents a cursory look, Anne hoists it easily over her shoulder to spare him the burden.

She isn't unaware of the way that he's looking at her either, but his own new clothes get a silent, quizzically raised eyebrow from her in return. She's always been fond of the way he dresses (it certainly makes him easy to spot quickly in a fight), but this is... decidedly different. Cuddly, almost.

But the smile that steals across her face and tugs at her lips is solely because of his suggestion. ]

This one's too big, unless you've made some new friends here I don't see. [ A pointed look over his shoulder at the empty, foggy dock. ] But there's a smaller one tied up down there. Ain't far.

[shapeshistory]

[ The bag is taken from him, and what follows is Jack meeting Anne's look about his clothes with a look of his own. His nose turns up, his teeth bared-- it's a cross between a slightly annoyed grimace and a wince of understanding: 'I know, I know, it's an unspeakable crime, I'm well aware.'

It's a small thing, one of those natural moments that pass between them that lasts fractions of a second: little glances, little looks. They can carry entire conversations like this. for now, though? Boats. He has some supplies in the bag full of loot--not much, but he's going by the size of the boat on their arrival. Not meant for long journeys, which means if they go the way they came, they should have a decent shot of getting somewhere. Jack doesn't quite care much--anywhere that isn't this place, so long as it's with Anne. Anywhere where he doesn't feel forced or trapped. ]

Excellent.

[ He's already heading in the direction Anne motioned to. ]

What we do next will depend on where we land. [ It's mostly out loud for himself: he knows Anne trusts him. ] It's a matter of getting there safely.

II

[libertalia]

( lucky enough for her, sam's already managed to work out the little, ah, secret behind the mask-removing bullshit, so it's with an easy yet appraising look that he glances anne's way, not at all perturbed by the fact that she sounds like she could slam his face into the bar counter at any moment. it's almost amusing, but it would be rude to laugh at a lady's troubles when he's clearly in a position to help.

he gestures to the bartender with his glass of quickly disappearing gin in a motion that says another, and one for the lady, then turns to face anne fully, a slow smile pulling at his mouth. )

Well, I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.

( which is probably not the answer she was looking for, but there's no fun in playing your hand from the start is there? )

[bonnylass]

[ It's a good thing he doesn't laugh because Anne has tried to kill people while in a better mood for less. Even his easy and unbothered manner is something that feels targetted at her now since everything and everyone is more irritating to her when she's upset. It isn't rational, sure, but not too much about the way Anne comports herself around others is. ]

Tell you what?

[ She manages to make the question sound like an accusation. Since who the fuck are you? is implied, she skips that line of inquiry altogether. ]

I ain't tellin' you shit. [ But she's just unsure of herself enough that after spitting that out, she gives him a sideways look and snatches the offered drink when it arrives. ] What d'you mean?

[libertalia]

( alright, okay, he can see she's clearly very worked up about this, so he lifts a hand in an almost apology, not quite deferential but he is backing off a little from being a complete jackass. )

I mean ... ( he downs the rest of his drink, shoving the glass aside to start in on the other. he holds out the newly filled glass, as if he's waiting for her to toast with him. ) A secret.

( and whether or not she decides to clink her glass against his, he'll take another drink anyway, nodding almost solemnly to the mask still on anne's face. )

Only way that thing's coming off your pretty face.

masquerade~

[omertae]

[ All things considered, Angelo doesn't mind his mask, burnished gold and unmistakably demonic in shape. It covers most of his face, leaving only the still-sullen tilt to his mouth and his deep-set eyes visible. Sure, it's stuck to his face for the foreseeable future, but it doesn't take a genius to work out that everyone's masks reflect them somehow. It's almost flattering.

At the bar, he's ordered himself something that looks like it might be a brandy, one hand fitted into the pocket of his trousers while he waits. Her question just about surprises him, until he takes in her mask. It's undeniably ugly. Angelo doesn't think he'd want that on his face either. ]

Have you tried pulling really fucking hard?

[bonnylass]

[ Anne's head snaps around and even with the mask in place, the irritable fury is evident in her eyes. Or, as much of them as can be seen through the heavy mask's eyeholes from his much taller vantage point. Her vision isn't obscured enough to miss him, though, and something about his casually comfortable stance against the bar only makes her angrier. ]

'Course I fucking tried it.

[ She sounds about as friendly as her glare looks, but when his drink arrives she's distracted enough by her need for one of the same that she turns, fast, to reach across the bar itself and snatch the front of the bartender's shirt. ]

Bring me the bottle. Now. [ With a shove to get him moving. ]

this is ancient i'm so sorry

[omertae]

[ Whoops. Angelo's eyebrows raise sharply behind his mask as the bartender rushes off to do as she said. Well, that's definitely one way to get things done – he kind of has to respect it, even if it seems like a little bit of an overreaction, and he'd know all about that.

He has a casual sip, waiting, watching. The bartender comes pelting back, skidding to a halt with the bottle of amber liquid clutched tightly in his fist. He looks for a moment like he's considering asking her if she wants a glass with ice, and then – smart man, Angelo thinks – he just sets the bottle down on the bartop and skitters off to go serve someone else. ]

Y'know, you could've just asked him for it.

II. The Masquerade

[neverwither]

[ Knocked by someone, Chloe assumes one of the other guests has gotten a little too enthusiastic with their dancing. Ready to say it’s no problem at all, please don’t worry and then go about her party business, she turns towards said someone. Only instead of finding someone with careless footing, she finds a woman flailing as she tries to wrench off the mask.

In a bid to stop it without distressing the woman more, Chloe gently puts a hand on her arm. Even though her own mask probably doesn’t help matters much. ] I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea…

[ The masks don’t show any signs of budging but who knows? The poor woman could end up seriously hurting herself. ] I know this is… Well, to say ‘unusual’ would be an understatement but I’m sure that we could figure out something together?

[bonnylass]

[ Despite how gentle the touch is, any touch at all would have received the same response from Anne in that moment; she whirls and reaches out to grab the stranger on instinct, once-strong fingers locking in a grip on Chloe's clothing that can be somewhat easily broken if she tries. Anne is frightened and when she's vulnerable, she's also at her most dangerous.

But only a second later, Anne has properly taken in the sight and she recoils from the mask that she's confronted with - it disturbs her in a way that none of the other masks at the party have although she doesn't know exactly why. It's like staring into the face of a doll - an expensive one that might have belonged to a rich girl in London - but this time the doll is staring back.

She lets her go with a shove and takes a step back, wishing she had her sword or even a pair of knives. ]

Unusual? [ Arriving from the 1700's has been an adjustment indeed and Anne has a bad temper on her very best days. ] You've seen all this shit and you're tellin' me it's unusual?

[neverwither]

[ Ah. She may have misjudged this situation. It’s her own fault, really. Given how panicked the woman seemed, it’s hardly surprising that she would lash out. And at least she’s just grabbing at her rather than going straight to smacking her in the face. Though maybe the mask would offer some protection if that does end up being the case.

With a small sound of relief when she’s let go, she maintains the distance that’s been set between them. As more of a nervous tic than anything, Chloe straightens out her clothing. But not too much. She doesn’t want to seem like she’s making any kind of commentary on what’s just happened. ]

I think there are probably a lot of words for it. But I did mean what I said about trying to work it out, if you’d like?

I. THE CITY

[medeiun]

[ It's all beautiful in a way that Maleficent can appreciate, but is simultaneously unsettled by, at the core of her. The perfection of it, everything shimmering golden: the smoothness of the structures, the unnatural angles of their edges. Such things can only be accomplished by Mankind, their tools. This may be far more advanced than the stone castles of Man back in Maleficent's world, but it is the same, at the core of it: a world crafted for humans. It feels almost wrong for her to step foot here.

And so she puts on her own masks to provide security for herself, her own type of armour. She finds clothing from their elaborate shops and uses her magic to re-craft it, turning their fabric into something of her own taste: a long dress and cape, a matching headpiece that wraps up her horns and conceals her hair. She chooses gold, not to blend into this gilded human city, but to show that she will not bow down to it. Re-crafting their materials into something of her own, reclaiming it in this way.

And so she moves through the city, a strange and tall woman, large feathered wings draped behind herself. When she turns a corner (her gait smooth, inhumanly quiet) and sees the young woman there, crouched and scraping gold from the side of one of the great buildings, Maleficent draws to a halt, sharp brows lifted. As everything about her is sharp: the catlike glint of her eye, the slant of her cheekbones, the great horns curving from her head, the clawtips each wing possesses. The dark fairy stares down at the figure, taking her in, and then her blood red mouth parts. ]

Some humans punish theft by cutting off a hand. [ This is how Maleficent announces her presence to a stranger: by saying something nasty. In truth, she could care less about anyone stealing from this golden place. ]

Or perhaps a finger or two, if one is fortunate.

[bonnylass]

[ Anne isn't the type to stop what she's doing just because she senses someone watching, and indeed when the softly gliding shape turns the corner, she only gives it a cursory enough look from under the brim of her (disappointingly little) hat to make sure that it's not coming too close. She isn't armed like she'd prefer to be but she's fought with less, so while the little flare of vulnerability spikes in Anne, she slams it down and only looks up again when she's spoken to.

When she does, her sneer is suddenly interrupted by a look of shock as she takes in a creature like none she's ever imagined, let alone seen. Anne has little imagination, as a rule, and while she's seen some strangeness already here, it's nothing like those wings. Those eyes. Whatever she's wearing on her head. Is that what the rich fucks wear here? If it isn't she hasn't seen anyone like her yet.

When she finally gathers herself enough to speak, the snarl comes back quickly. ]

They can try.

[ She dares them to. Her tone of voice dares this thing to make something of it. That's about the only response Anne ever has to threats, both minor and truly dangerous. Both are indistinguishable to her because the required response is always the same: prove that you aren't weak. In a way, she relishes any opportunity to prove to the world that she isn't afraid of it. Because she very much is.

She finally stops what she's doing and drops a chunk of gold into her bag, then stands up slowly like she's being held at the end of a pistol. ]

You gonna tell them?

[medeiun]

[ Maleficent meets that shock almost gracefully, almost patiently — she is well-accustomed to it, of course. There may be a scream, or the girl might pass out (humans lose consciousness.... very easily, she has found. As if they just turn right off. It's quite funny.)

But what comes is a snarl, and the fey's sharp brows slowly lift just a fraction. She is used to hostility, but not from a single woman, alone, with no roaring army behind her to fuel anger up like flames against the pointed creature, the devil, the witch (and the many other colourful titles which have been directed to Maleficent).

No, this one's anger is on its own. Alone. And this is what she's most familiar with, this sharpness, this threatening reaction like a knife's edge. It's completely opposite of Aurora's softness, which has always been an alien thing to Maleficent, for as much as she's come to have love for the girl. She stares, dark mouth pursing slightly as the young woman slowly gets to her feet, facing her. ]

No, [ she answers simply, tilting her head slowly back a bit to take in the girl. It's a smart thing to do, crafty — but it's true that there could be punishment for it. And in this place of strange magics, Maleficent isn't sure what might be incurred upon them. (Concerned?? Of course not. It's not her job to look after the weak little human Travelers she's become unwillingly swept on this journey with.) ] These buildings of theirs are odiously tacky. They could use a bit of surface work.

[ Her eyes cut back to the "surface work" done by the girl, the chunks of gold missing from the structure, before returning to her face. ]

Is gold really of such value to you? Other humans seem to be getting by without it, here.

[ There isn't exactly a mass of the other Travelers doing what this girl's doing. ]

iii. lost carcossa;

[necrosaint]

[ Normally Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Harrowhark the First, best bone adept in the entirety of the Nine Houses, would not be having any problems here at all. She would be having a skeleton army handle everything for her. But she does not have her bone shards here—she does not have any bone with which to transform into a defense except for that which is inside her own skin.

She does not trust that she can recover well enough to pull bone from her body safely. She would not dare unseat the inquiring skull. She is, instead, walking backward slowly, looking at the shambling once-living with her head tilted back and to the side. She looks wary, but also curious. ]

An apt question. I am trying to ascertain what the fuck, which is mostly just these are dead humans who were, presumably, at one point, living. What I would like to know is how the fuck, and furthermore what can be done.

[ She crouches in the sand, starts combing through it, reaching out with every sense she's got to try to find any bone at all. And then, and then she realizes -- ]

Your knives. What are they made of.

sry for the wait, this bone coincidence is amazing

[bonnylass]

[ The first thing that flashes across Anne's mind (the part of her mind that isn't thoroughly focused on the strange, shambling and advancing threat), is that this girl talks a lot like Jack. It at once puts her on guard while also being strangely reassuring, because while anyone else who's ever talked like Jack has been some wealthy fuck she needs to watch out for or someone trying to get one over on her, there's also undeniable comfort in the phrasing - in the almost pompous way the threat before them is being assessed.

She throws a questioning glare at the girl and gives her head half a shake as if to ask 'did you really just ask what I heard you ask?' ]

What?

[ Still backing away from the walking skeletons, Anne glances down at the ivory-handled knives which she's holding at the ready, useless as they seem to her against such odds. Her hands still ache when she closes them in a tight grip but she's trying to ignore the pain, as always. ]

What the fuck's that matter?

[ So much for getting a clear answer out of Anne during a tense situation. Anne only trusts her captains in battle (when it comes to answering questions and following orders without backtalk) and this is certainly about to be a battle, as far as she can tell. ]

then it took me forever so no worries in any direction

[necrosaint]

If you'll let me hold it, I'll show --

[ Harrow says this, and then almost instantly gives up on it. She straight up has to cut herself off to get to a new, different point. This woman talks like her cavalier just enough that maybe using something that would work on Gideon will work on her. ]

-- I can control bone, so if you will lend me one, I can make us a small army of our own. I will do my best to return it to its original state.