Chapter #20The Craft by: imaj   There’s a certain uniformity about hotels: No matter where they are in the world, they tend to look the same. From Marjory’s memories, you have experience of five star hotels around the world. All the places that Breeanna has visited on tour. This one is little different - just another tastefully decorated corridor with rows of identical doors.
You walk down the corridor, an expensive handbag slung over one shoulder. It’s one concession Marjory made to the wealth Breeanna’s fame has brought her. In one hand, you clutch a brown paper bag. Your grasp tightens as you reach Breeanna’s room.
You knock on the hotel room door. There is no response, so you knock again and shout out: “It’s Marji sweetie, open up.”
After a few minutes of shuffling sounds, the door finally swings open. Breeanna stands on the other side, in a pair of flannel pj bottoms and a loose fitting powder pink tee. Her shoulders hang low and her hair is a tangled mess. She stares at you apathetically through lidded eyes. No one could possibly associate her with the effervescent celebrity that was singing and dancing on stage last night.
“Hi Marji,” Breeanna greets you in a near whisper.
You give the desolate popstar a hug, carefully holding onto the bag of supplies in your hand. A quick surge of Eldibria lightens Breeanna’s mood and brings the ghost of a smile to her face. It vanishes just as quickly.
“Nice to know I can still bring a smile to that face,” you grin encouragingly. You hold up the bag and give it a gentle shake. “Brought you something too.”
Breeanna beckons you in. She looks at the bag, her eyes showing a little more life. “What is it Marji?”
“Looked it up ona Internet,” you say. “Special calming mask - guaranteed to make you feel better. Works like magic. Whatja say, craft project?”
Breeanna gives you a shrug. “Can’t hurt Marji.”
“Aw Sweetie,” you say, giving her another hug and a heavy flood of Eldibria again to make sure. “This’ll all pass.” You step back from Breeanna and use a free hand to wipe away a tear from her eye.
You usher Breeanna further into her room, taking her to a soft leather couch and coffee table. With a little difficulty, you kneel down on the floor on the opposite side of the table as Breeanna sits down. She picks up your paper bag and spills its contents out onto the table - two convex mirrors and a handful of little baggies full of ingredients. The last thing to fall out is a cheap plastic cigarette lighter.
“What is all this,” asks Breeanna.
“Quicklime,” you say pointing at one bag before going on to indicate and name the contents of the others. “Ice cubes, wood ash. Rowanwood works best. Any is fine though. Some other stuff.” You pick up one of the bags, the quicklime, and empty it. Half into one mirror, half into the other. “We mix it all together.”
Breeanna picks up one of the other bags and opens it carefully.
“Oh, not that one sweetie,” you interrupt her before she has the chance to pour the contents onto one of the mirrors. “I need that for something else.”
She takes an experimental sniff at the opened bag. “What is this? Smells like wet earth.”
“Something like that,” you mutter as you snatch the bag back from her. A little drop of Eldibria heads off any anger that your action might have caused and instead Breeanna smiles a little. “Ok,” you admit. “We mix everything but this all together, just like this.” You splash more Eldibria to lift her mood. Breeanna’s smiles turn into a bout of giggling as if you’d just said something genuinely funny.
You work together, slowly and cautiously mixing the rest of the ingredients. Manifesting the relevant sigil elements on your fingertips at the prescribed points. As you work, Breeanna’s mood slowly settles, the change driven in part by the repetitive nature of the work and in part by careful work with Eldibria. You aren’t trying for a simple smile here, but for something that feels like a lasting improvement in Breeanna’s mood. One that will stick even after you leave.
“Now we set it on fire,” you explain. You pick up Breeanna’s mirror and hold it in the palm of your hand. It hides the unexpurgated sigil that you summon underneath it - the remote mask design that is buried deep within the copy of the Libra that is in turn buried deep within you.
You flick the lighter and the mixture catches fire. It blazes briefly, bright and purple. “Phew,” exclaims Breeanna. She grabs hold of her own nose. “That stinks. I mean, really, stinks.”
“So worth it though,” you reply, placing the mirror back on the coffee table. Breeanna stares at it in astonishment as it writhes and morphs into a bright, shining blue, mask shape. You take the other mirror. This time you manifest a different sigil, almost identical to the very first one you ever used. After you set it on fire it shifts into a polished mask too. A short cut you would not have spotted in the sigil designs had you not been able to reconnect with Kenandandra.
“Now what,” asks Breeanna.
“Put it to your face and all your troubles go away,” you smile back, using every last trick you know to convince her. A little sliver of Viritrilbia helps too.
Breeanna hesitates as she picks up her mask, but only a little. The mask vanishes as it touches her face. Her eyes flutter and she sinks backwards into the couch. You’ve got ten minutes before she recovers. Before you do anything else you gently probe at the sense of Breeanna’s presence at the back of your mind. Her mind is quiet now, but you’ll have need of this new connection later.
You reach into the pocket of your jeans and pull out a mind band you created it earlier. It fits into place on the mask you created, and sticks in place once you summon the requisite sigil to your hand. Then you pour out the little baggy of graveyard earth inside the mask. You add a dash of liquid from a little squirt bottle hidden at the bottom of your handbag. The mask flares again as you light it. Seconds later all that remains of the earth is the dull grey coating on the interior of the mask.
You stuff the golem mask into your handbag just as Breeanna comes to. “Whoa,” she groans, her hands grasping at her face and finding nothing. Then she feels round the sofa for the mask. “Knocked me for a loop. Where’d it go?”
“All used up sweetie,” you lie, slipping in more Viritrilbia to sound more convincing. “Just give it time and yah’ll feel right as rain.”
Breeanna smiles. “I think I should do the show tonight.”
Your face falls. “Oh no, that’s a bad idea sweetie.” You push as much Viritrilbia as your tenuous connection will allow, then follow it up with a splash of Eldibria to reinforce Breeanna’s trust in you. “Take an extra day to recover. No ones going to blame you for it.”
Breanna seems uncertain, but nods halfheartedly. The smile evaporates from her face. “Maybe that would be for the best.”
You’ll make sure that Breeanna is never uncertain about anything again.
To stop reminiscing, attend to Fi's reports in "A Short Hop" 
 You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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