170. Tabbycat

[Realm Boon: OATHBIND]

[Anchored Realm: TIDEREIGN]

[Boon Description: The Wayfarer must register an [Oath] and affirm it before the end of each [Tidewatch] cycle. Successful affirmation of the Wayfarer's [Oath] grants her access to an Oathborn familiar.]

[CAUTION: Once an [Oath] has been registered, failure to affirm it in time or any action that directly contradicts the [Oath] will be deemed a breach. Ending a [Tidewatch] cycle while breached will Frenzy both the Wayfarer and her Oathborn familiar.]

***

Without waiting for a reply, the ginger tabby hopped down from his boat and onto the bank. Agile, graceful, and soundless. As authentically feline as his appearance suggested.

The man stood to his full (but still slouching!) height. He was barefoot like Renna—furry, curled toes where the frog woman's were webbed. As for his hands (paws?), the right was gauntleted in black leather while the left was bare (but still furry!) save for a bejeweled copper band on the ring finger.

Serac put a lot of stock in first impressions. On this occasion, the ginger tabby strongly struck her as the secretive, sneaky type. Perhaps not too unlike her first impression of the Finless once upon a time. And yet, just as much as her instincts had once been to trust and welcome a lonely pink frog, the same instincts now told her to do the exact opposite to this feline stranger.

"Everyone back home thinks I've lost the plot," the stranger spoke again, warm and jovial as though he might be catching up with old friends—which only made Serac trust him less, "but I've been coming here for the last—the Keeper knows how many turns of the moon—just hoping one of you off-Realm Wayfarers might finally get off your arses and ascend. And just look what the cat's dragged in: not one, not two, but three outrealmers! Guess my nose is good for something after all, eh?"

The cat man suddenly brought his bare hand up to his chest, in an obvious effort to retrieve something stowed inside his cape. This, naturally, elicited all kinds of reactions from the Upheaver trio.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Zacko was the fastest, closing the gap in an instant and putting a firm hand on the stranger's wrist. "I know you're in a hurry, but there's usually an order to these things, yeah? How about start by telling us who you are and, uh, why you've been waiting by the shores for outrealmers to show up?"

For a brief second, the man looked rather nonplussed by Zacko's words. Serac thought she saw a faint glimmer in his dusky hazel eyes, which also faded in an instant. Then he was all smiles again as he offered up something that barely passed for an answer.

"Right. You don't know who I am. That makes sense. The name's Oriole ere'Quinlan. Just your friendly Tiryaga neighbor from Duskpool. And I've been waiting for outrealmers to help me with… erm, let's call it a courier job."

With that, the man called Oriole promptly slipped out of Zacko's grasp (like a proper cat!). He then looked the considerably taller Manusya up and down, before sending his discerning gaze onto and past the much smaller Renna.

Oriole's hazel eyes eventually ended up on Serac's person, where they lit up with an enthusiastic 'aha!'.

"You're a Rakshasa, aren't you?" he asked in a slightly hushed voice. "Never thought I'd see the night! You've certainly come a long way, and I welcome you on behalf of all Tidereign. Have you… affirmed an oath yet? Sorry if that comes across as rude, but erm, with the color of your eyes, it's a little hard to tell."

Serac kept her own eyes—crimson like the color her cheeks turned on occasion—narrowed in mistrust. Even so, she could sympathize with the stranger's uncertainty whether a Rakshasa's natural irises might instead be a sign of Frenzy.

"Yeah, I've got my [Oath] sorted, thanks for asking," she said without a hint of gratitude. "But I feel like you've strung us along for long enough. Care to tell us what this is about? Before… you know."

She glanced up at the sky. By now, a sliver of the sun had poked out above the tree lines. The ginger tabby did the same, before looking straight back at Serac, smile gone from his face.

"Right. Interview over," Oriole announced with an air of authority that ill-suited his otherwise playful voice. "Congratulations, Ser—akshasa, you're hired! Which means you get to be the bearer of this very important letter."

He reached back into his cape and pulled out the object in question, quicker than Zacko could stop him a second time. To Serac's relief, it really was just an envelope sealed with red wax, its worn paper showing clear signs of age and patience. Oriole presented it to her, but she didn't take it.

"Look man," she said, unable to fully hide her annoyance, "I'm not usually one to ignore an Anchored soul in need, but you… you're gonna have to give me more than that."

"No time to explain!" The cat man chose the most infuriating response imaginable, given how much of the Wayfarers' time he'd wasted so far. "Just hold onto the letter and give it to the person that fits this description. A deer woman about my age, slender with a white-spotted coat, and oh, this is of utmost importance: she's exceedingly pretty. Like you wouldn't believe. The best I can describe it—her face is as a rose garden in season."

Serac stared at Oriole like he'd just grown antlers on his head.

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"You're not very good at describing people, are you? Or giving instructions for that matter."

"Just take it, alright?" Oriole shoved the letter in Serac's face, a desperate edge creeping into his voice. "It'll all work out once you've carried this with you to the other side. I just know it!"

Serac had met many Anchored souls on her journey, but perhaps never one quite so pushy (and so terribly unpersuasive!). Almost instinctively, she put her hands up and turned away, as if to say: I'm done. Above and all around, the sky brightened another shade of sepia.

"Carry to the other side?" The raspy-voiced question came from Renna. "Is such a thing even possible? I was given to understand nothing physical can pass between the Day-Night divide."

"You're right about that," Oriole conceded, flashing the frog woman a brief smile. "But this letter will pass through intact. Trust me on this."

"I gotta say, Brain Cell," Zacko chimed in again, already adopting a nickname of uncertain relevance. "You clearly believe this to be a sacred mission, but you're doing a dogshit job of convincing anyone else. Maybe we all just call it a night for now, yeah? Pick this up again when you've got more time and maybe more practice at effective communication."

"But"—Oriole raised his voice, now clearly agitated—"we might never get another chance! Rakshasa, I know you're the one I've been waiting for. If you just do this one thing for me, I'll forever be in your debt."

Serac reluctantly looked over her shoulder, only to be confronted by the dangling envelope. The sun continued to climb, and the Realm grew ever brighter.

Just my luck, Serac thought, for this shady character to be my introduction to Tidereign. Maybe if I just hold out for a few more seconds, this whole place will 'reset' and I could start over in a brand new Day…

"Please, Rakshasa!" Time was running out fast, but Oriole still hadn't given up. "Just take the letter! That's all I ask! Why won't you say 'yes'?"

"You really can't understand why I wouldn't wanna work for you?" Serac groused. "Several reasons, but the main one is you're a liar. Or at the very least, you're lying to my face about something right now. As for how I know, I guess it's the same way you seem so sure about—"

[TIDEWATCH: Your OATH has been breached. You now have 12 seconds to affirm your OATH.]

[WARNING: Frenzy Imminent]

… What??

The message—the judgment—caught Serac completely off guard. Not only was [Oathbind] the last thing on her mind at the minute, she could hardly believe this ridiculous proposition from Oriole counted as a 'thrill or spill' for her to say 'hell yes' to!

She fell to her knees as the red haze descended. The sepia tones of Tidereign at Dawn became an all-too-familiar blood-soaked field. Oriole ere'Quinlan, together with the letter in his hand, melted into an amorphous, lurching shadow.

"Oh shit, is this what I think it is?" The voice of a friend, deepened and distorted beyond recognition. "Fuck it, just say yes and take the letter, Serac! Even if this whole thing turns out to be a disaster, it's gotta be better than what's happening to you right now!"

It was sound advice, and Serac wanted dearly to heed it. But she couldn't. In fact, she couldn't speak or move at all.

Something or someone was holding her back, restraining her in a tight bear hug. Precious seconds ticked away as she came to a horrible realization.

It was her self. She was the Frenzied being that wanted to say 'no' to everything and everyone before her. And it wouldn't stop saying 'no' until it had its way. Until all other beings and forces in the universe prostrated themselves before its self-righteous authority.

In fact, the force of its rebellion was so powerful and so undeniable it overwrote the very rules of Pathsight.

[Chamber Three: HAIR TO HAIR]

Bang!

[116!]

REVOLVER fired on its own. Without authorization and from the wrong chamber at that. There'd been no one to squeeze its trigger, other than the amorphous shadow now lurching out of the Rakshasa.

The Primal-imbued bullet tore up her thigh, but that wasn't where she felt the pain. No, the pain was much deeper and higher. It came as an excruciating, band-like headache around and within one half of her skull.

She shut her eyes. She thought she'd learned to live with the pain, but she'd been wrong. Somewhere in the haze that permeated her mind, she saw a red, impish smile.

"Serac!"

Someone was shouting a name, but she couldn't remember who or why. Then, for just one Ksana, radiant sunlight pierced through the red haze, only to be accompanied by a Realm-changing notification:

[TIDEWATCH: Your OATH remains breached. The current cycle has ended. A new cycle begins.]

Suddenly and totally, the Rakshasa was overcome by somnolence. Her focus shifted once again, from her broken [Oath] to her detached self and now to her overwhelming need for sleep.

Good thing she already had her eyes closed. Good thing she could just slip into a long, long sleep now, and forget this whole—

Oh no, you don't. You can sleep when you're dead!

She snapped her eyes wide open, yet saw nothing. Who was that? Who would speak in such a harsh, demonic, and kingly voice when all she wanted to do was sleep?

But then all thought of sleep left the Rakshasa, as she was grabbed bodily by the waist and yanked away. From what and to where? She had no earthly idea, any more than she had the strength to resist.

But as it turned out, this Night—far and away the most disorienting 42 minutes of this Rakshasa's life—had one more surprise left in store.

[Oathborn Technique: SHADOW LEAP]

In that final Ksana where Night turned over to Day, one more shadow broke into a Rakshasa's fading vision.

This latest iteration took the form of a lithe, springing cat. It held in its paws a letter—time-worn envelope sealed by red wax—which it promptly and smoothly slipped into the Rakshasa's belt, whether she wanted it or not.

And as Night turned over to a brand new Day, Serac Edin's last and first thought was: I knew that tabbycat was lying about something!

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